#while tms still hasn’t

[marimbles]

at the risk of sounding like really entitled….

does anyone else have a fic that is their most popular, but you don’t want it to be, because you don’t think it deserves it, and you have better stuff, and while ofc you are grateful that people like something you wrote, it’s almost annoying that for some reason That one is the most popular. lmao

[kacievvbbbb]

I like to think that on some level Shanks is just a little upset (Beckman knows the truth; that he is deeply, simmeringly, furious) at the unfairness and hypocrisy that is Mihawk still wanting to fight Zoro.

That he still thinks Zoro’s going to be his greatest challenger- the one to usurp his throne, that even though he’s down an eye, even though they are both “lacking”. Zoro is somehow still worthy of Mihawk’s attention when Shanks has been judged and found wanting.

Shanks lost an arm, and they still can’t talk about it, and Mihawk still won’t fight him, but he’ll fight Zoro. Trained Zoro. And he knows it’s not the same, he doesn’t even want the title, doesn’t want to be Mihawk’s “destiny”. He knows that he’s being childish but Mihawk started it and it’s not fair.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better. 

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood. 

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman. 

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters. 

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children. 

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting. 

This was about their relationship with Harrington. 

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache. 

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted. 

That makes him easy to take advantage of. 

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip. 

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.  

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him! 

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry. 

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there. 

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well. 

Eddie was here to break it. 

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit. 

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks. 

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees. 

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing.  “What are you--hey!” 

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house. 

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue. 

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--” 

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and  right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day. 

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to find the kid. 

 Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame. 

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has  ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font. 

(Baking puns. Disgusting.) 

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding. 

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?” 

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen. 

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles. 

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes. 

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here. 

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. 

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”  

He cuts himself off with a hiss,  eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt. 

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.” 

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie. 

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!) 

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.” 

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers. 

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,” 

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.” 

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.” 

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!” 

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.” 

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb. 

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.) 

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment. 

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona. 

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.” 

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes. 

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?” 

“Guys.” 

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!” 

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter. 

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction. 

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over. 

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.) 

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.” 

“Steve--” 

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.” 

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him. 

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury. 

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style. 

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink. 

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine. 

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit… 

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that. 

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.” 

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach. 

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.” 

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!” 

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.) 

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely. 

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things. 

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here. 

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.) 

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,” 

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?” 

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice,  already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it. 

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help. 

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once. 

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.) 

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?” 

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even. 

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…” 

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating. 

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely. 

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does. 

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house. 

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest. 

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly. 

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!” 

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked. 

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth. 

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen. 

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine. 

Typical. 

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?” 

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.” 

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere. 

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer. 

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches. 

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right… 

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly. 

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way. 

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming. 

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door. 

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them. 

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.) 

He could leave now. 

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give. 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?” 

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud. 

“What?” 

Thank God for Harrington’s headache. 

“You look terrible, man.”  Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.” 

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party. 

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.” 

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie. 

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.” 

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened. 

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.) 

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.  

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.” 

Harrington grimaces. 

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter. 

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole. 

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers. 

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.) 

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety. 

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.” 

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.” 

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face. 

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me,  I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch. 

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead. 

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment. 

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?” 

“....are you offering me drugs?” 

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket. 

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?” 

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it. 

“How is that going to help?” 

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.” 

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount. 

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him. 

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning. 

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him. 

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja. 

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’ 

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.” 

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.  

 “I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him. 

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”  

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.  

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people. 

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game. 

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains. 

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart. 

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.” 

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.” 

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” 

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that. 

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit. 

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.” 

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out. 

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.) 

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom. 

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room. 

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.” 

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it. 

Fucking rich people. 

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.” 

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed. 

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers. 

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute. 

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.” 

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie. 

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.” 

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having  fun destroying one's own ego. 

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had. 

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed. 

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom. 

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. 

It freezes him in place. 

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own. 

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment. 

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.  

“Anytime, big boy.” 

Anytime. 

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it. 

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday. 

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days. 

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington. 

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life. 

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices. 

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer. 

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking. 

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well. 

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.) 

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe. 

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy. 

“Would you just let us in?” 

“No.” 

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.” 

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.” 

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily. 

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness  just isn’t cutting it anymore.) 

“And why would I do that?” 

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control. 

Checking up on the guy was overkill.  

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground. 

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”  

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.” 

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head. 

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on. 

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it. 

 Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces. 

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning. 

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly. 

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.) 

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not. 

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh. 

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread. 

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday. 

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one. 

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.  

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.” 

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe. 

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead. 

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!” 

Which gets Eddie’s back right up. 

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents. 

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.” 

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you. 

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most. 

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one. 

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.” 

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark. 

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark. 

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer. 

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face. 

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

[linderosse]

Wielders of Wisdom: Introductions Part 4

Phantom (Guardian) [ST]

Driven and determined; orderly; kind of a diva

Surprisingly strong after Malladus fortified her body for his own use

She started dating Spirit after he renounced his hero status to go back to being a humble train engineer. Orders him around all the time (they genuinely love each other).

Her singing voice is enchanting :)

Story: [Locked until further notice]

Echo/Aurora (Dreamer) [EoW, CoH, AoL]

Once, she was a hero. Now she’s Depressed^TM.

Doesn’t sleep much anymore. Barely holding it together for Dawn’s sake

Desperately misses her home, her family, and Silent. Very fond of Hyrule and Dawn. A small part of her is bitterly jealous that Dawn gets to be summoned away into other eras, while Aurora seems to be trapped after the Great Decline— but she loves Dawn and would never begrudge her that opportunity.

Her first and second adventures have made her an excellent dancer

Story: Since her awakening, Aurora has done her best to be the older sister Dawn never had. But the world is still devastated by the Great Decline, mistrust runs rampant, and it’s hard adapting to life centuries in the future. Dawn keeps telling her about the other Zeldas, but neither Dawn nor Aurora have been able to summon the others to their era, and Aurora hasn’t been able to leave. Aurora will do what it takes to support Dawn’s goal to help their people prosper— but who knows? She might be keeping secrets of her own…

< Part 3

Masterpost

[cloudcountry]

hi....... idk what to do but may I have a set of mutual pining (idiots in love holding hands accidentally) strawberry macarons with bubble tea in a mostro lounge TM cup.... sorry if idk how to order (꩜ᯅ꩜;)

an order of romantic fluff with riddle rosehearts!

It’s like time slows to a stop when you grab a hand instead of your magical pen, and said hand grabs you back. It’s like you’ve been shocked from the top of your head to the tips of your toes as you lock eyes with Riddle Rosehearts, his face quickly turning a very familiar shade of bright red.

You’ve never moved your hand faster.

You whisper a hasty apology, fearing that he’s angry with you after your little slip up. Pretending it never happened, you grab your pen (for real this time) and focus as best as you can on the lecture.

It’s hard when he’s sitting right next to you and hasn’t said a single word indicating whether he’s actually mad at you or not. It’s hard when you can’t stop looking at him out of the corner of your eye, only to never catch him looking back at you even once. It’s hard when class ends and you have to pack up all of your things at a totally normal, not at all fast pace, just to get away from him faster.

“What is going on with you?” Riddle asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

You freeze, looking over at him with a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hold your hand...? You’re not mad right?” you laugh anxiously, trying to cram everything in your bag while maintaining eye contact.

“Stop that, you’re going to rip something.” Riddle scolds, grabbing your hands and stilling them.

It’s the second time today you two have touched. Your heart lurches in your chest.

“Why would I be angry with you?” he says suddenly, snapping you out of your panicked haze, “It’s not like I hated it.”

“...Huh?” you blink.

“Nothing. I’ll see you in the gardens.” Riddle blurts, so much unlike him that it makes you giggle as he rushes out of the classroom, magical pen and papers in hand.

-> riddle's roses . . . @amaribelt @cookiesandbiscuits @v1vsie @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb @seraphinariddle @edith-is-a-cat

[zephyrtheoctopie]

Heart of the Memverse, Veins of Order.

TASK M4NAGER!

(…name is a wip. Read its lore below the cut.)

Task M4nager came about from the ambitions of two differing entities. The conquest for Order and an unchanging world, coupled with the need for validation, the want to be acknowledged for SOMETHING by both their peers and their lovers.

But Four got a lot more than what he was bargaining for, that’s for sure.

Task M4nager is, in essence, the worst parts of Ramiel combined with the personality of Order merged to make one being. A scorned and slighted dictator, rejected by everyone.

But it wasn’t always like this.

TM was originally created by Marina as a sort of automated admin panel, able to keep the Memverse up and running without the constant need for organic oversight. TM was in charge of almost everything from the nodes, to the Spire, to even the things that spawn within and so on.

It also acted as a security system, preventing malicious viruses from entering and damaging the code. And it was *supposed* to prevent the exact circumstances that resulted in Order’s manifestation.

But it didn’t do that, did it? This failure in logic resulted in TM completely crashing and becoming basically inoperable.

You would think this would be a good thing for Order, but no actually. Despite its overriding of the system, TM was still above it in the hierarchy. And if TM hasn’t operated in a while, the Memverse’s code will start to rot and tear itself apart. The solution to this plight? The consciousness of a living being. With that, there would be no error since TM is now, well, alive.

The MV however, wasn’t open to the public yet. So Order couldn’t just pluck a random sanatized octo or something for it. But there was….a few beta testers.

Eight/Hephaeus, Acht, Pearl and…

Ramiel. Agent 4.

Out of all the potential choices, Ramiel was the most mentally malleable. See, over the past few months, he had been feeling more and more overshadowed. I mean, how could he not? Artemisa, Hephaeus, and Neo 3 had all basically saved the entire world at one point in their lives. What had Ram even done compared to that? Save a stupid glorified catfish? Hell, he didn’t even save Callie, MARIE was the one to shoot those shades off and bring her to her senses. He felt so….inadequate compared to everyone else. And it ate away at his ego, badly.

Because the MV kept tabs on its users mental states at all times, Order knew this all.

One day while Ram was finishing up recording his combat data for use in the Parallel Canons, Order came to him with a proposition.

That if he joined its cause, he would have everything he ever wanted. Recognition…

Ramiel, not in the best mental headspace, and not really knowing what he was getting himself into exactly, took it up on its offer.

Ram proceeded to have his little squid soul ripped from his physical body and transported into the Memverse, where it was planted into TM.

And thus, Task M4nager was born.

That’s about it.

Thanks if you actually took the time to read all this!

[finisnihil]

Hey guys so a while back I went insane and made a list of things we know about Luocha and the coffin entity that took an hour of scrounging every second of screen time and references to his person

These lists were made as of 2.1.

So what we know about the Coffin Entity TM:

•Is being delivered to the Xianzhou despite the fact nobody on the Xianzhou stores their dead the way this person is stored. Also, Lucoha hasn’t “delivered” it yet he still is carting it around despite being on the Xianzhou. It also seems whoever he’s delivering it to is of the Ten Lords Commission and he's aiming to go to the Xianzhou Xuling with it

•They met only once and it was during some sort of conflict Luocha became involved in

•The coffin is being delivered on somebody else’s behalf, possibly the deceased’s or another third party's

•The coffin entity is not considered a friend, lover, or relative

•Luocha proposed a deal of some kind that he’s still waiting to see the entity uphold

•The entity isn’t quite dead as it is temperamental and jabs Luocha with thorny vines when he upsets it. The coffin also has an emphasis on being silent as though whatever is in it can talk back and chooses not to

•Luocha considers their relationship a business one

•Luocha says he and the entity underestimated each other, particularly when Luocha proposed the deal

•He states he and the entity both wanted to use each other

And now, what we know about Luocha:

•He’s a wandering merchant who is registered with the IPC and the Xianzhou Yuque

•He seems to come from an aristocratic or wealthy background based on his clothes and speech and sword (An Épée which is used in fencing, a sport typically practiced by European royalty and the upper class since the 14th Century as that’s when the oldest fencing records seem to hail from)

•He’s considered an Abomination of the Abundance and he confirms his power stems from Yaoshi

•He has no home according to him

•He can heal both organic and inorganic life forms

•He’s looking into immortality of some kind which is interesting because he also seems to have a negative view of immortality and even notes Mara-struck being used as "sacrifices to the Abundance". He also says yearning for immortality as a short-life species is normal and to avoid doing so would be like killing an Aeon.

•He wants to kill Yaoshi

•He’s working with Jingliu to kill Yaoshi and I think Jingliu is the “other business” he had to attend to

•He isn’t the one who snuck on the Stellaron despite turning himself in for doing so. He says he delivered it without knowing its significance but once again he can can sense Stellarons so that doesn't hold much water, but who knows it's murky.

•He doesn’t know VA (Void Archives)

•He he’s wary of Jing Yuan and tries to avoid to being watched by him

•He “changes his mask” so to speak to fit in different situations which matches the fact he goes by the alias Luocha when on the Xianzhou

•His clothes are that of his home world and he wears them “to remind him of the path he must keep treading”

•On his home planet he was involved with a church/church-based society

•His city was destroyed and he was perhaps the only survivor? Possibly related to the Knight of Purity Palace set?

•Many Xianzhou natives say he works and speaks like an older Xianzhou native

•He has a very similar design as Yaoshi

•Before he arrived on the Xianzhou he had a diviner tell him “not to be concerned with the destination, but to seize [his] chances and travel with the current to reap the greatest harvest”

•Luocha is an alias, not his real name, and he only goes by Luocha on the Xianzhou and his real name is noted to be a "tongue-twister" by himself and Jing Yuan

•He’s always wanted to visit the Herta Space Station

•According to Jing Yuan, he "isn't in any hurry to conduct business" and in Jingliu's quest he says Luocha didn't conduct any trade during his stay and his departure lined up with the calamities taking place

•He doesn't like seeing flowers wither but does later note "maybe it's not so bad after all"

•Jingliu says he's "just like her" in that he has a "hole" in his heart that no matter what he does he cannot fill it and just exhausts himself in the effort to do so

•He sells "uncommon trinkets"

•He considers friendship precious

•He typically doesn't get eye bags from staying up

•He's renting a like AirBNB type residence to stay in instead of the Petrichor Inn where he normally stays. He notes it "helps him forget his identity as a traveling merchant"

•One of his hobbies is observing and experiencing the Xianzhou natives' way of life

•He considers himself not great as opening conversations

•He seems to like wine as he left us some when he departed from the Express

•The flower that is his motif is a actually a white iris, which represents innocence and purity and are often used at weddings or as sympathy flowers at funerals. A lot of fanon stuff will depict him with white lilies though, which represent rebirth and purity!

•Jing Yuan admitted he outsmarted him

•Luocha has a weird motif in his related achievements of dancing (Coffin Dancer and Wardance: Épée Trial)

•He broke into the Shackling Prison but seemingly did nothing. Luocha states that in doing so he found the Luofu didn't have what he was looking for

•Jing Yuan mentions he's infamous for being involved in matters at locations called Eternity Fortress and Shroudveil Starzone which I can't find mention of anywhere, so I don't know these locations

•Dahao tells us that upon being arrested Luocha was charged with identity fraud and smuggling dangerous bio-merchandise among other crimes, which Dahao points out is weird and vague.

•He considers the Clous Knight's devotion to Lan as making them "closed-minded". He says there's other factions other than those of Lan who want Yaoshi dead and that they must "look to the source for the solution" to severing Yaoshi's curse

•He also has an understanding of traditional medicine and will write prescriptions for people

•He likes to do little kind things for people with no expectation of being recognized or praised for it

•He constantly stresses he's a noncombatant and while he can hold his own in small-scale conflicts he seems to rely on more experienced fighters in more serious ones and this is reflected in his sword which an Épée, a kind of heavy fencing sword

•He’s interested in and holds a great deal of respect for Elias Salas which is interesting because Elias Salas is notable for not wanting to extend his lifespan despite being able to and died at 103

I probably missed some stuff but I scrounged all this from lightcones, voice lines, character stories, relic backstories, quests, messages, trailers, etc. If I missed anything let me know! Some of these are obviously more relevant than others but if I missed anything let me know and I'll add it to the list!

I wish I could add the screenshots of where I got everything but posts have picture limits so if anyone's curious where I found certain information feel free to ask and I'll reply with where I found it.

Have a great day, mwah!

[imsofthelp]

Word count: 2.7k

Category: Angst, Smut

Warnings: smut, a bit of rough sex ig, reader is sad tm, cult leader geto, an awful lot of dog metaphors, veeeery slight masochism but not really explicit. Takes place eight years after Geto left but reader's age is not stated.

Summary: When Suguru left, a part of you went with. It's not a surprise, that eight years after, you still come crawling back to him.

***

When Suguru left, a part of you went with. The school years spent together passed by in a flash and then he was gone without saying goodbye. No words, no letter, not even a short message to your phone. The wallpaper was still set to the picture of the two of you. He wasn’t smiling in that one. When was the last time he did? The more you study the phone screen, the more your hands tremble. His skin looks pale, the bags under his eyes holding all the colors of the night sky. How could you not notice? How could you possibly be that stupid? How were the signs so glaringly obvious yet slipped past your radar?

You were too happy, your brain suggested. Lost in the bliss, living in the soft summer days, only noticing that you had nothing warm to wear when winter came along suddenly. Shoko had told you not to blame yourself, yet you noticed that she had started smoking way more. You were often with her, when she allowed the nicotine to surround the air around you, letting the bright red cherry tip burn right to the filter. Those moments were quiet most of the time.

Satoru didn’t say anything to you, during that time. You often wondered if he was hurting more than you. If the guilt ate him completely instead of chipping away as it had on you. You wondered if he had any tears left to shed. Yours seemed never-ending.

You also wondered what your friends (if you could still call them that, after so many years of no contact) would think of you if they saw you like this. Hair matted with sweat and sticking to your forehead, skin clammy and flushed, eyes rolled to the back of your head and countless loads of cum decorating your pliant body.

Right now, Suguru had you on all fours, back arched harshly, his large, unforgiving hand aiding the pose with a tight hold on your hair, the other resting on your hip with a bruising grip. His hips were unrelenting in their pursuit of his pleasure, almost punishing with how harsh they were. Your body bounced back and forth with each mean thrust, your hands fisting the silk sheets until the knuckles turned white.

You squirm forward a little and his strong body chases right after. His lean, toned body leans on yours, more weight landing on you, his soft hair forming a dark halo around you.

“Not trying to run from me, are you, darling?” His voice is dark and a little breathy.

A soft grunt slips past his glossy lips and you still, taking and taking and taking until there’s nothing but him. His clean, woody scent surrounding you, his silky hair tickling at the sensitive skin of your neck and his huge cock tearing away at your insides.

“N-no. Sorry.”

You’re surprised by the breathlessness of your own voice, sounding so far away. Geto rewards you with a content hum as he kisses the shell of your ear with befitting gentleness. The only sound besides your own deep breaths is the loud squelching of your awfully wet cunt.

It’s not like he hasn’t prepared you. He spent what seemed like hours between your legs, dark hair pulled into a bun because he didn’t like distractions while doing the thing he enjoyed most. He dangled your pleasure just in front of you, only allowing you to cum when you begged real pretty and tear tracks embedded themselves into the soft skin of your cheeks. After that, he had stretched you out with his fingers, cooing at you almost mockingly when three seemed to be too much. And they were, they really were with how long, thick and calloused they were and yet-

Nothing ever prepared you to take his cock, not even when you were dripping, messing up his expensive sheets. He was massive — long, and thick and slightly curved to the side, hitting all the right spots instantly yet never fully fitting inside.

“No? Seemed that way, doll.”

Another kiss, this time to your exposed neck, before his thrusts pick up speed. It’s nasty and loud, yet missing the usual sound of hips connecting that most often came along with sex. Those two last inches never did fit, much to his displeasure.

Suguru angles his hips in a way that hits that spot deep inside, the one that despite countless times of trying, no else was able to hit in the way he was. You keen loudly, burying your head into the bedsheets and sniffling loudly, hands clawing around in search of reprieve.

Suguru grants you that one relief, the hand that was knit tightly into your hair finally leaving and intertwining with yours, fingers squeezing tightly, as if he was the one afraid to let go. His thrusts are still mean. Now, that he had finally granted you the pleasure of feeling his cock against that one sensitive spot, he abused the newfound power over and over and over again.

“You close, love? Tell me how it feels.”

His voice is sweet and as smooth as honey. The word “love” feels like venom dripping from his perfect lips. Another mean thrust and you’re keening, thoughts jumbled in your head, saliva dripping down your chin as if it’s your brain leaking out.

“Feels, ngh- Feels soo- Suguru!”

He actually laughs, sound melodic and heavenly. He’s a god above you, a vision of utter perfection, and you’re a mortal, on your knees in his temple, begging for reprieve, for pleasure, for him.

“Use your words, dear. Can you do that for me?”

It’s completely condescending. The only thing that’s betraying how tight you’re squeezing him is the slight grunts he allows to slip past. He had nothing to hide from you, anyway. Who would you tell, when you were so afraid of admitting that you shared your bed with him?

“M-mhm, wanna be good. Feels, ah, feels good-“

His thrusts slow and you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad for actually whining at the loss of friction. He’s a henchman and you’re the victim, willingly walking to him and laying yourself under the shining silver of the axe. Nothing seems to matter anymore, save for your pleasure.

Your hips buck back, trying to get him to speed his thrusts back again, but Suguru is not the one to give in that easy. His hand still on your hip tightens, fingers curling in a way that’s sure to leave bruises, that’s sure to leave his mark.

“You can do better. You want to come, don’t you, darling? Yeah, you do… So do better for me. Talk all pretty, okay?”

And how can you refuse Suguru, when he asks like that?

“You’re s-so big and n-no one else can fuck me like tha-that. I love your cock, love to fe-feel it in me, love the way i-it hu-hurts and lo-love you, ah-!” words tumble past your lips as fast as running water, afraid to disappoint him, afraid for him to leave.

Finally, finally his hips pick up their speed, the hand that was just squeezing your hip now slithering under your body and finding that little bundle of nerves in an instant. He seems to have no trouble playing you like an instrument, his practiced fingers drawing tight, fast circles on your clit. You just do your duty, keeping your back arched, your hips thrusting back to meet his movements.

It doesn’t take long for your vision to completely black out, screams and moans and little ramblings leaving your spit-soaked lips. Suguru aids you through your orgasm, never ceasing his movements against your clit. He gifts you with a couple more shallow thrusts before he’s pulling out with a soft grunt. In a moment, you feel the warmth of his cum hitting your back and your knees finally give out, body splayed out on the bed.

Suguru rolls over in order not to crush you, his own breaths labored and loud. You spend a long moment just catching your breath, head turning to the side and drinking in his painfully pretty features. The arch of his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, his tired, dark eyes and his mused hair.

“You confessing your love for me was not something I had expected tonight.” He answers with a chuckle, your name slipping past his lips unprompted. No matter how soft it is, it still sounds foreign.

“It was just a slip of a tongue.” You reply, still studying each movement of his body. He was still so coordinated and delicate in his maneuvers, as if the intense session before didn’t tire him out at all.

“Some phrase about a cat and it being out of the bag seems to come to my mind.” Suguru chuckled, before standing up and disappearing for a moment.

He comes back with a wet towel, wiping away at the mess between your legs and then carefully caressing your back, removing all evidence of what has happened before. He puts it away immediately, always the one to stick to neatness and tidiness.

“Why didn’t you just finish inside? It’s less messy and I’m on birth control.” You find yourself mumbling the words. Perhaps you just missed his warmth, craving it to be so deep inside you that even after you left, some part of him still lingered.

Suguru hums softly, pulling you into his strong arms. His skin is warm against yours. He’s still naked, his chest pressed up against your back. It feels right. Like that’s the way it should have always been.

“Admittedly, I am not that possessive, darling. You can fuck whoever you like, someone who fits your moral compass and all that. I don’t need to cum inside to prove that you’re mine.”

He’s always so nonchalant about this. Like he’s absolutely sure that you would always come crawling back, even if it resulted in bruised knees and absolute banishment of your dignity. It hurt that it wasn’t exactly wrong.

“It seems that no one fits my moral compass nowadays. Perhaps I am getting too picky.” You answered quietly, softly. The smell of sex was still heavy in the air.

Suguru brushes figures into the skin of your arms, making your body instantly relax in his strong arms. It shouldn’t feel so safe. Not when the blood of so many people stain every inch of his skin. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. He had never hurt you, at least, not physically. The emotional damage was something you preferred to think about over a nice bottle of wine, alone.

“Perhaps you are. Or maybe we are just two sides of the same coin. I cannot seem to find someone who’s presence satisfies me as much as yours, either.

His words never fail to make you blush. You’re not a school girl anymore, it shouldn’t affect you at all, let alone this much and yet, when it’s Suguru, nothing is off the table.

“We are not the same and never will be.” You find the strength within yourself to answer. The words are weak and uncertain.

“Oh, are we not?” He answers immediately, the movements of his nimble fingers ceasing for a moment before continuing their path down your arms. He’s soothing you, you realize. How stupid. As if you ever needed that. As if he actually know how much you did.

“What are you implying, Suguru?” You ask, and your head finds it’s way to rest on his chest. Suguru finally relaxes, as if it was him who craved it instead of you.

“I will never change my ideals and yet you still crawl back to me like an obedient little dog.” He lets the words linger in the silence of his bedroom for a moment, “You will never change yours and yet I welcome you back into my arms each time.”

“Comparing me to a dog now?” Is all you manage for an answer.

The words have no real bite behind them. A metaphor of a dog with no teeth comes to your mind briefly. You are a scared animal, cornered in somewhere, just waiting for a hand that will feed instead of hitting. Suguru embodies both.

“That’s not what you should be focusing on. And that wasn’t even my point.” He waves you off with a gentle flick of his wrist.

“Spit it out.”

“We were doomed from the day we first met. It was meant to be happen this way.” He begins, and you can’t begin to understand what he’s getting at. Suguru often got philosophical after sex, “I believe it was Emil M. Cioran, who said “If you are doomed to devour yourself, nothing can keep you from it: a trifle will impel you as much as a tragedy. Resign yourself to erosion at all times: your fate wills it so.”

“Are you saying that there was nothing that I could have done to prevent you from leaving? That you are devouring yourself?” the words taste bitter on your tongue.

“I’m saying exactly that. The guilt is written all across your features each time I see you. Not only because you feel bad about us sleeping together. You can’t let go of it even eight years after, you carry it with you like a deadly weight. It’s going to drag you down one day, don’t you know?” He asks so nonchalantly, like he’s not expecting an answer. You offer him one anyway.

“And the part about devouring yourself?”

“Exorcise. Consume. Repeat it until everything inside you aches. My fate was written down on the day my cursed technique developed.” He’s quiet as he tells you this. Honest, for the first time in a while.

“And for you, that is synonymous to devouring yourself? Your technique?”

“More or less so. The rest of devouring is me reaching for a goal that is impossible to reach. Icarus flying too close to the sun, Laika trying to reach the stars.” He’s silent for a long moment after that.

You don’t really know what to say, either. The need to ask about why he was still doing this if he knew what the outcome was, dies down on your tongue. Instead, you hold onto his hand still tracing shapes on your arm. He gives your fingers a squeeze. The atmosphere of his bedroom is heavy and dark, melancholy weighing down heavy on your bones.

“You’re bad at pillow talk, Suguru.”

He offers you a small laugh, sound melodic and airy.

“And you’re trying to evade the topic. There was nothing you could’ve done, okay? And I don’t have plans for returning.” Your throat burns. The harsh reality that you have been trying so hard to avoid comes crashing down around you, “It’s not that you’re not good enough for me to turn my back on all of this. The thing is, you’re pretty, and caring, and your laugh, and your touch are the only things that can soothe my tired body.”

“You’re pouring salt into the wound.” You answer, and your voice is hallowed. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it. Deep down, you know that it’s the latter.

“My goals just always come first.” He adds, as if that wasn’t obvious, as if it hasn’t been the thing that’s haunted you for years, borrowing it so deep inside your body, soul and heart that it’s become familiar.

“Your goals always come first.” You echo, “You’ll die a selfish man, Suguru.”

He rearranges you into a more comfortable position, laying you down onto his chest and enveloping you both in a soft, warm blanket. His breathing matches yours and you feel yourself teetering along the edge of unconsciousness.

Suguru presses a kiss to your hairline, chuckling softly, before closing his own dark eyes. Can you even hear him anymore? Ah, no matter. He can always tell you the next time you come back to him.

“Don’t I know it, dear. Don’t I know it.”

[malkaleh]

Rings of Power 2X08

FIRST OF ALL HOW I AM SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL 2026 UNDER THESE CONDITIONS. HOW.

Secondly CHARLES EDWARDS YOU OWE ME INFINITY TRILLION DOLLARS IN EMOTIONAL DAMAGES. INFINITY.

(I still very much think Celebrimbor actually willed himself dead there, as the last thing he had left he could do :((((( :/)

(Also the horrible awful intimacy in whatever torture had clearly been going on for a while there - that face caress was so so creepy and awful and the blank spaces FUCK).

CHARLIE VICKERS YOU ALSO OWE ME INFINITY TRILLION DOLLARS. ACTUALLY THE WHOLE CAST OWES ME BUT THE CHARLIES ESPECIALLY. AND MORFYDD. AND ROB. AND BEN. AND ISHAMEL

(You know the worst thing is, the absolute most horrible thing is that I do think Sauron’s tears/words there about regret were completely genuine. Like, completely).

(For fic agenda reasons I also need to point out that in one of the drafts in the unfinished tales Sauron wanted to attack Lorien and Rivendell first and just like he wants to get his beloveds back UGH okay I know tactical reasons but also)

LEAVE MY SWEET BABY BIRACIAL ELROND ALONE YOU FUCKS. YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKS. (He is so soft and so kind and so gentle still and the way he stands in what I assume will become Imaldris is just MY HEART HURTS).

Sauron really was ‘soon as they unblock me the weddings are back on’ like I swear (I think he was extremely angry that Celebrimbor was going out of his reach).

(Still hasn’t mentioned Luthien, is still terrified out of his mind)

HI GANDALF.

ARONDIR LIVES MY BELOVED.

kemen i hope sauron sacrifices you first or an eagle eats you. Or you die slowly after stepping on Eressea/Valinor.

Hi islidur and theo are brothers now and also THEO IS GOING TO BE FINE HE IS NOT GOING TO BE EVIL I REFUSE.

ADAR. FUCK. (The way he loved his kids so much and yet by that love going wrong he fucked everything up is just ://///. Also GLUG IS FINE. HE IS FINE. HE IS GOING HOME TO HIS WIFE AND BABY GLUG).

(Sauron’s ex’s really are unionising/understanding each other)

Somewhere in mandos Feanor is like GET YOUR BITCH ASS HANDS OFF MY HAMMER LET ME AT HIM (Celebrimbor is getting ALL THE HUGS when he arrives okay, from EVERYONE).

Galadriel is continuing the family tradition of Dramatic and I love that for her. Also MORFYDD MORFYDD.

MIRIEL IS GOING TO BREAK MY HEART INTO PIECES. MY DARLING MIRIEL YOU ARE GOING TO BE FINE YOU ARE. YOU AND ELENDIL WILL BE GETTING MARRIED AND HAVING KIDS AND IT WILL BE SO CUTE.

Oh Earien :(((((. I love her i just…

The way you fall matters, even if that’s all you have left. Even if you will not win through, even if it is hopeless - it matters that you were kind, that you were good and you held to love and light and maybe you will not live to see it but the dawn will come is so…I really really needed that.

Gil-Galad Is an incredibly stressed dad (tm) and also oh my heart his face when he sees they are hurting Elrond could you please tell him in words (also stop with the microaggressions).

Islidur COME GET YOUR WIFE.

No really I keep imagining Celebrimbor arriving in Mandos and everyone, I mean everyone including Mandos and Manwe and Varda and EVERYONE just hugging him and reassuring him and bringing him tea and blankets and hot chocolate.

(Finrod is going to GO BACK TO MIDDLE EARTH AND FIGHT PEOPLE STAY AWAY FROM HIS SISTER AND HIS HUSBAND AND WIFES BEST FRIENDS GREAT GRANDCHILD. Fingon is also going)

(Sauron really really did not want to not have Galadriel and Celebrimbor and Elrond beside him as consorts like please I need all the fic about this please trop writers please also include Elrond)

In conclusion eleven trillion stars out of five how am I supposed to wait two years, this cast owes me emotional damages.

[sapphicseasapphire]

Sorry for the many questions I'm about to ask but its been driving me insane.

How exactly does the story of Hyrule Warriors work with your cryptid au? Does Wars have a personality during those events or do the events of Hyrule Warriors not happen at all?

Your au is great and l really want to know how Wind, Time, and maybe Ravio interact with Wars. I am considering writing a short story with them, and I want to stay as loyal to the au as possible.

Also I love your art.

Hello!! First of all I’m SO SORRY it’s taken me this long to get back to you!! Sincerely I apologize!! But this question made me do a lot of deep thinking and I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer. I’m gonna break this up into sections under the cut because it’s gonna get pretty long.

How does Hyrule Warriors fit into the au? Gonna be completely 100% honest here, I’m kind of sort of rewriting the whole story I think. There’s a lot that I’m still figuring out, but (in the briefest of terms as this is all subject to change) here’s what I’ve got so far: Cia is still enamored by the Spirit of the Hero, and Ganon still takes advantage of that desire and purges her of her light, corrupting her. She still opens the Gate of Souls(s) and launches an attack on Hyrule, opening portals across time. However, in this era, there is no hero. (There was no Ganon either, before she showed up, so Link was never born. There was still a Zelda, since Hyrule’s princesses are always named Zelda. But yeah, Link just doesn’t exist). Not until Cia’s attack, that is. When Hyrule is threatened, Zelda and Impa decided that they need a hero. And so, they make one. They physically pull the Hero’s Spirit from its resting place in the Sacred Realm and manually place it in a sword, thus creating Wars.

They don’t call him Link, as he’s not a person. In this era, he’s always been called the Hero of Warriors, as that is his purpose. He was created solely to fight. To win the war and save Hyrule.

After the war is won, he is placed deep within a temple and abandoned. After all, he’s a literal weapon. A weapon without a wielder is dangerous- anyone could take up his sword and be accepted as his new Master. The temple that he’s placed in is a typical Zelda Temple TM, like a dungeon, and it’s where he will wait until he is discovered by the Chain.

Does Wars have a personality in Hyrule Warriors? Short answer: no. He is a freshly created sword spirit and bound entirely to his Master. (Which, at this point, is his Zelda). With the War of Eras still ongoing, his purpose hasn’t yet been fulfilled. At this point, he is very very similar to how Fi was in Skyward Sword: mostly residing in his sword and giving power ups to his Master, only manifesting outside of the blade when called upon. He doesn’t speak unless spoken to. He shows absolutely no emotion. Ever.

… which leads me to the bad news. How do the others (Time, Wind, Ravio) interact with Wars? Generally speaking, they don’t. Like. Not even a little bit. With Wars constantly in his sword, he’s pretty inaccessible. Plus, they don’t really have any reason to. Any of Wars’ advice is heard only by Zelda, who relays the information to the group, they don’t think to ask where these strategies are coming from. And they really don’t think much of the sword at Zelda’s back.

That’s not to say that nothing is happening between the Links, though!! I’ve been having a field day thinking of little Time, a godling, fresh out of Termina and trying to comprehend the weight of his fate while also being a kid and now fighting in yet another war he never asked to be a part of. He’d appear to the others as Child Link (and go by Mask), using his god powers to change his appearance. He doesn’t have to be Child Link, but with how new his powers are?? He’s scared to be anything else.

And WIND!!! Wind and Ravio interactions!!! I have been thinking about this for WEEKS, ever since you sent this ask. Wind, the chaos gremlin of an Aquili. And Ravio, the violence hating Mer whose whole family and everyone he knew was killed by the corrupted Aquili in his own world. Ravio witnessed his whole pod being murdered, he narrowly escaped. He was a child, alone and afraid. If Legend carries bias against Aquili, imagine the scope of Ravio’s trauma. I wouldn’t be surprised if he avoided Wind at any cost.

(I will be making a lot of Ravio content in the future. He’s just. He’s my little guy).

I’m having a very fun time thinking about these interactions, even if it’s a bummer that Wars isn’t a part of it. (Remember! The only one who knows what Wars is is Sky. Wind and Time never had the chance to meet him. Although, after they discover that he’s a Sword Spirit, I bet a lot of things suddenly make a lot of sense haha!)

ANYWAY. This is one of the less organized lore posts I’ve made but I wanted to get this answered. Like I said, I’m still workshopping this, but I hope this helps? You’re welcome to make a story (as long as you tag me)! I’m sorry if this was a bit of a let down, but even if Wars’ role isn’t very big, I already have so many ideas about the others! I hope this gives you ideas as well

[stardustdiiving]

I love Neuvillette and find him so interesting to compare to other characters he shares characteristics to—I rlly wasn’t expecting them to go the route they did for what kind of character he was going to be but I’m so on board with it he’s so fun

First comparison I’ve been thinking about I suppose is him and Zhongli. They’re both distinguished old men (tm) who r powerful non human entities, but the way they both go about this are both enjoyably distinct. Both of them are both capable of deep gentleness, but Neuvillette’s gentleness feels a lot more “innocent” than Zhongli’s does. Zhongli is gentle from a place of experience of having to be not gentle in his time as an Archon who had fo hold his country together through apocalyptic war and calamity, but while he is gentle from a place of certainty about himself and what he’s learned/will learn about the world, I feel Neuvillette is gentle from a place of uncertainty and feeling he still has much to learn about himself and the world

We still don’t know a lot about Neuvillette’s history as of 4.1 but it’s interesting to me Neuvillette feels like a non human character who hasn’t had a lot of unique suffering tied to being physically nonhuman, and/or calamity intertwined with him learning about and building a relationship with humanity, like a lot of other non human characters we know have. A lot of his hardship in this vein feels very…grounded on a human level (see: his SQ) and different than say, a Scaramouche or any of the Archons

Neuvillette seeking out humanity and the way he connects to communities and other societies I think can have this additional sad edge to it because I wonder if you could frame that as being influenced by the fact he doesn’t really have any community of his own kind around him to feel a sense of identity with. So like, compare how Neuvillette engages with humanity, compared to how characters like Yae Miko or Xiao—I feel there’s a level of disconnect and difference in how they want to/feel they should engage with humans because they have a sense of identity as youkai/adepti that Neuvillette might have never really had a chance to develop, because of the circumstances with his own kind

The way he forms bonds with humanity and the melusines just feel very distinct to me, and feels like he’s been able to explore it with a less jaded view than a lot of other characters have been able to do. That’s sort of what I mean when I describe him as having this certain feeling of “innocence” to him

He’s just very earnest in a way that’s honestly really endearing. I like how he sincerely responds to Paimon’s silly suggestion to refer to himself as a “dragon out of water” rather than a “fish out of water” because he’s just genuinely spending a lot of his time trying to learn and understand how to communicate and engage with others very often. It’s funny how it’s not even like Neuvillette isn’t jaded or doesn’t hold strongly worded opinions or dislikes of things. His earnestness about this sometimes manifests as him being kind of sassy and it’s honestly hilarious. He’s very a impartial judge who cares a lot about fairness but also he must scoff at a lack of respect towards the Art of drinking water and Zhongli + Venti LARPing normal mortal humans , you see. Love this guy

[spectrum-color]

does robin hobb actually doesn't like fitz and fool together? i'm halfway in the series and seem some people speak abt this

This is a tricky question to answer, because we really don’t know where she stands right now. Bear in mind that this answer will have whole series spoilers so I will put it below the cut.

On one hand, the end of Fools Fate featured the Fool leaving Fitz so he can have a hetero happily ever after with Molly, telling him that he’ll never be able to offer him what she can. When people objected to this because of the buildup of Fitz and the Fools relationship through TM and the resurrection scene in particular, Robin Hobb wrote a very angry blog post. In it, she said that Fitz and the Fool were just like childhood best friends, that portraying their relationship as romantic invalidates Fitz and Molly, and people who didn’t like the ending were just angry that they didn’t have sex. She also railed against fanfic and said some pretty offensive things about how for Fitz to be involved with a man, he would have to be gay and it would cheapen his history with women (apparently bisexuals don’t exist.) This got a lot of backlash needless to say and convinced a lot of older fans that she’s homophobic, which you still hear sometimes.

THAT SAID in Rain Wild Chronicles, she put a gay character at the center and gave him a (honestly terrible imo but it has its supporters) romance. This seemed like a possible apology to fans who were angry about the blog post. In the final trilogy, the Fool returns and it’s a mixed bag. On one hand, she portrays Fitz and Mollys life together as lonely, and Fitz misses the Fool fiercely and lacks any true friends without him. On the other hand, when the Fool does return, he’s been horrifically tortured into insanity, is (mistakenly tbf) stabbed by Fitz, rejected by his daughter, and is generally miserable for the entire trilogy. It felt mean spirited and there are people who have theorized it was motivated by spite towards people who didn’t like the separation. idk if I believe that because it came out at a time when grimdark was very popular in the genre, but it is out there.

As I mentioned earlier, Fitz and Molly’s youngest daughter, Bee, is also the Fools child through magic and his successor as White Prophet, which is pretty loaded. Fitz coming to accept that the Fool is her father too and that they should raise her together is actually a major plot point. Their relationship is also repeatedly shown as being Fitzs priority in this trilogy: he writes the Fool intensely emotional letters that he never sends during his years at Withywoods, he leaves Bee behind to save the Fool and then to care for him when he nearly dies, he passes as a couple with Amber while they’re in Kelsingra and Bingtown.

Most importantly, in the end, when he’s dying and carving his memory stone wolf to go into the Skill stream like Verity did, he chooses the Fool to go with him. Not only that, but Bee tells the Fool that she resented him because she thought that Fitz loved him more than he ever loved anyone else, including her. You could def debate if that’s the truth, but it was very charged, and it was on the last few pages, so it was the endgame. It is all very ambiguous and something she hasn’t spoken on outside of the text of the actual book since the TM era. Personally, I just go by what’s in the text, not anything extraneous Hobb said.

[thebroccolination]

Win had a rough week. He tried to arrange a family meal that went sour, got a frantic call from the man he loves that convinced him to drive two hours by motorcycle in the rain to a completely different province, found that man almost delirious in a cemetery before an unknown child’s grave, heard that man sob into his shoulder that life would be better if he were dead, met that man’s parents for the first time early the next morning, drove two hours back to Bangkok with a fever, and then had an emotionally turbulent build-up with Team that left them both in tears.

He had a rough week.

They both have.

And because of that, I think it makes sense that Win had no idea how to answer Team’s question of what they are to each other. Their relationship status has always been nebulous, but as @nejineeee and I were just discussing, Win also kind of had his confidence torn down piece by piece throughout this episode.

First when Team told Win to leave his room. As far as Win knows, he hasn’t done anything to be kicked out for. He doesn’t know Team just had an emotionally raw conversation with his friends that’s put him on his back foot. He just knows he had a fever the night before, he was allowed to stay then, and now Team’s telling him to go to his own room seemingly for no reason.

Win looks genuinely confused and hurt, and it probably wouldn’t occur to him to think so, but there’s an imbalance here. Win’s allowed Team to use his room as if it were his: he sleeps there, showers there, even borrows Win’s clothes freely. But Team’s room is still only Team’s. And that’s Team’s right, of course, but it gives us an idea of how Win could be interpreting Team’s side of things.

We know Team loves Win, and so does the alphabet gang and now the traffic light gang, but he can’t say it to Win himself. Team is terrified of losing the most important person in his life—someone he didn’t even know a year ago!—who’s become so significant to Team that he introduced him to his parents and wants to be significant to him, too. He can’t imagine life without him anymore.

But when Win makes up an excuse to stay in Team’s room for the night, that his fever is still lingering, Team argues back. Maybe because he wants some degree of control back, to keep for himself some small part of his life that Win hasn’t totally absorbed yet.

Win doesn’t know that’s what’s going on, though.

He just looks genuinely vulnerable and almost nervous that Team really does want him gone. When he’s done nothing wrong—in fact, when he’s only done things right. All he did was rely on Team while sick, so is that where his mind goes? This is what happens when you’re a burden to others? They get bored of you and kick you out?

And in terms of character growth, I was so proud of Win here. This scene is the first and only time so far that he’s genuinely gone against what Team claims to want. Every time before, Win’s ultimately backed off and respected Team’s space (King of Consent TM), but now, he finally pushes back, and purely because he wants to be near Team.

He’s worried about Team. He’s saved this kid from nearly drowning, and then only the night before he was sobbing into Win’s shoulder that life would be better if he were dead.

What Team said to Manaow and Pharm about Win is also true of Win: he can’t imagine himself without Team anymore. And given Win’s fear of being alone, being left, could there be anything scarier for him than realizing Team is that important to him?

And yet, despite pushing back and ignoring Team’s protests, when Team does join him in bed, Win gives Team this searching look below. I interpreted it as Win checking whether Team is actually uncomfortable. If Team really does want Win to leave. Because I think he would have, if Team had said just one more annoyed hia here.

Yet, when Team says nothing more…

Win loves him so much, and honestly, what he’s been doing for Team would probably work for a lot of people. Team just needs more stability and a level of bluntness than Win can offer him at this stage.

Then they arrive at the resort, and Team claims that he doesn’t want to room with Win. To the point where he’s literally screaming “HELP ME” to his best friend.

And sure, that’s How Team Is, and he doesn’t mean it really, but that’s also the second time in less than twelve hours that Team has expressed displeasure at the suggestion of sharing a bed with someone he’s spent months actively seeking out for exactly that purpose.

Incremental damage to your defenses is still damage.

Then, there’s the bottle game where Team (correctly) tells Dean he isn’t dating anyone. And he isn’t, and there are ways to change that, but oh, how that must sting for Win to hear aloud after everything they’ve been through in the past week.

It’s entirely possible that Win just doesn’t understand what Team needs from him. He’s waiting for Team, but that’s not what Team needs.

After that, Team ends their kiss on the dock without explanation and leaves Win alone there.

I think it’s easy to see Team’s side throughout the series because we’ve seen him seek help from his friends and heard what he’s thinking and feeling.

Win’s less forthcoming, and I think that’s why he’s so broken by this whole episode. He’s always faster to care for others than he is to seek counsel for himself. But during the scene where he’s sick, Win doesn’t object to Team taking care of him. On the contrary, he seems quietly undone by it.

Win is just so young himself. He’s only two years older than Team, and this whole situation is just as new to him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he should say. He just wants to feel wanted by the person he loves to a degree that scares him, and he’s trying to communicate in the ways that feel safe to him.

In the next episode, he’ll make it right. They’ll finally talk, and there’ll be tears and catharsis.

But I think this episode did a strong job of showing why Win hesitated when Team asked him what they are to each other. For all we know, Win might’ve hesitated because he’s stuck between two answers: what they are and what Win wishes they were.

[vylad243]

hiiii! 💕 I know you said you aren’t taking on too many requests atm, so it’s no pressure at all if you don’t feel like responding for a bit — your comfort is top priority after all! But here’s a bit of a fandom AU classic for you: radiostatic beauty and the beast AU.

Vox is a young, brilliant, beautiful, and talented up-and-coming overlord hoping to make it in the scene with his newfangled television idea — Hell still being in The Dark Ages (TM) at this time. He feels unsatisfied with his life and is ostracized/shunned by his fellow overlords and sinners who assume he’s stuck up and find his constant push for innovation odd (“what is this so-called electricity thing? We were doing JUST fine with the trashfires, thank you!”) Not helping matters is that he is also being actively “pursued” (aka harassed) by Valentino, who keeps proposing that they team up for business purposes but really just wants Vox’s soul/Vox all to himself and won’t take no for an answer. Despite his aspirations, Vox is content to live as happy and simple a life can have in Hell alongside his beloved personal assistant Papermint and Vark.

Things take a turn when, one day, Papermint goes out to run an errand while walking Vark and doesn’t return. Concerned for his assistant’s safety, especially after Vark returns Papermintless, Vox does some investigating (sidenote: I headcanon that Vox used to be a journalist when he was human, so he’d have the skillset) and after doing enough digging, realizes that Papermint had vanished around the premises of a seemingly abandoned and derelict hotel on the outskirts of Pride. Heading there himself, he finds himself taken aback when common household appliances start talking to him and notices a strange magical aura permeating the old building as he scopes it out. He eventually finds Papermint in the dungeon and is confronted by the imposing form of a giant, territorial wendigo — however he quickly recognizes the creature as Alastor, a former overlord who had mysteriously gone radio silent seven years ago and was presumed dead by the masses. He had caught Papermint trespassing on his property and had tossed him in the dungeon with plans to turn him into a future meal for attempting to steal from him: the poor assistant had tried to make off with a beautiful antique radio as a gift for Vox to cheer him up after Val’s latest stint had left him considerably heated and had wrongfully assumed the place was abandoned.

Vox, as you can imagine, is having absolutely none of this and barters with the Radio Demon to release Papermint and, in exchange, he’ll take his place as his prisoner and next meal—as it was his fault his assistant wound up in this predicament anyway, and besides it’s not like anyone will care if he’s gone anyway, right? Alastor is taken aback by this young demon’s gutless nature and sacrifice (and perhaps even a little flattered as well), but honours his wishes and let's Papermint go, arranging him a room to stay in and allowing Vox free reign of the hotel as long as he stays away from the forbidden radio tower. Vox is likewise just as confused by Alastor’s gentleman nature as anyone probably would be: having heard many, many stories before of the “terrifying and ruthless, bloodthirsty” Radio Demon, Vox is mostly shocked that he hasn’t been torn limb from limb yet. He finds himself adjusting to life at the hotel fairly quickly, finding the strange sense of solace it provides the much needed reprieve from his life back home, despite the occasional bouts of homesickness (missing Papermint and Vark in particular). He even quickly befriends and bonds with the enchanted staff, which includes a gothic raggedy Ann type doll named Velvette (who naturally is at the ready to give him a makeover at the drop of a hat), a vintage tea kettle set named Rosie, Niffty — a feather duster, and so on.

However, despite his terrifying appearance and reputation, Alastor is mostly just an awkward loner desperately seeking companionship and sees a worthy potential friend in Vox (although rest assured, the Radio Demon will not hesitate to rip you apart with his teeth if you cross him); living in exile after being cursed into this form by Lilith herself for his arrogance, Alastor has long since given up hope on breaking the curse and his content to live a quiet life in isolation with his enchanted servants. However something about this Vox creature draws his attention and fascination quickly turns into affection the longer the two interact and bond. It isn’t too long before Alastor realizes that he no longer wishes Vox to just be his friend, but his mate: with much of the help of the staff, he begins the process of attempting to court Vox over the span of a year — unfortunately, years in isolation has left the poor stag with the social skills of a rock, so Vox doesn’t immediately clue in on what’s going on but is flattered by the lovely and thoughtful gifts and increasing invites to dinner and dances. Unbeknownst to Al, Vox soon starts developing feelings of his own toward the terrifying but kind demon as well, but is too scared to act on them in fear of being rejected like he is with everyone else. Velvette, and the rest of the staff are all sighing and shaking their heads at the mutual idiocy of these two.

Unfortunately, their budding romance is put to the test when Alastor realizes that, by the end of this year, if his spell isn’t broken, then he will be permanently trapped in this state and will be lost to his animalistic urges, putting Vox at a great risk of getting hurt. He allows Vox the opportunity to go visit his family back home for some time and uses his absence to sneak out of the hotel and meet up with the princess — who had been letting him and his thralls hide away in her hotel this whole time — in secret, hoping to figure out how to finally break his curse before anyone gets hurt; Charlie is, unfortunately, unable to break the curse herself but informs him that if he performs one truly selfless act for someone he loves, then the spell will be broken and he will be restored to his former power.

And just beyond the gates of the hotel, things in Hell aren’t looking so hot either: Vox’s disappearance was initially brushed off, as was Papermint’s claims of the Radio Demon still being alive, but now — six months in without power and the media demon still not showing has made speculation rise. Things only go more out of control when Alastor himself is accidentally spotted on one of Vox’s still functioning security cameras leaving a secret meeting with the princess. Shit hits the fan and, ever the opportunist, Valentino seizes the chance to rile up both the public and his fellow overlords into taking down the Radio Demon before he becomes too “difficult to manage”, his efforts only strengthening when Vox suddenly reappears back in Pentagram City, still alive and singing the Radio Demon’s praises as he gleefully reunites with his beloved assistant and pet shark once more. Valentino tries to pressure Vox into staying away from the hotel even longer and becomes more aggressive/possessive in his advances as a result — accusing the wendigo of brainwashing him and projecting so, so hard in the process. Vox, fed up with the moth’s disgusting dehumanizing treatment of him, denounces him and tells him flat out that he’d rather die than be Val’s little plaything, inadvertently letting his feelings for Alastor slip in the process. Enraged at this final, brutal rejection, Val knocks Vox unconscious and keeps him locked up in his tower for a time, using his sudden disappearance and staged evidence to fake the media overlord’s murder and further rally up the people and leads them into an attack on the hotel — fully intending on killing Alastor so that Vox has nobody left to go to but him.

Meanwhile poor Al is beside himself with worry over his mate not returning but falls into despair at the thought that Vox has abandoned him the longer he fails to return, and meanwhile Vox desperately tries to escape Val’s tower, realizing that he really is in love with Alastor and vowing to kill Valentino himself should anything happen to his Radio Demon. He manages to get a distress message to Papermint, Vark and a stowaway Velvette, who help him break out and together, they race to go save Alastor before it’s too late.

This is quite a long one! While this is a great prompt, sadly this would be quite a large project and I don't want to do anything too big for prompts since I like to keep them to 1k-3k words. Maybe one day I'll shorten this down and make it into a prompt, but not right now

Thank you for the prompt regardless! It sounds really interesting!

[inawickedlittletown]

Don't Make A Shadow Of Yourself (BuckTommy fic) - 8/12)

Summary: "A man who's pure of heart...may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright" - Howl (F+TM)

BuckTommy Werewolf AU. Throughout most of his adult life, Tommy had dealt with what he was. The duality of being a man and also an animal…a beast. Werewolves weren’t born, they were made. 

Words: 3,515

Read on Ao3

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

-

Chapter Eight

Days later, Tommy was still a little dazed by his date with Evan. After dinner, they went to the movies. They’d wound up at one of those theaters that showed both the new releases and then older stuff. Tommy hadn’t looked up what was playing before the date, figuring that Evan could make the choice. So, when Tommy spotted You’ve Got Mail as an option, he almost let himself be disappointed that they probably wouldn’t be watching that, but then that was what Evan got them tickets for without even saying anything to him. 

“What?” Evan asked while they stood in line for popcorn. 

“I just — why did you pick that movie?” 

“Tom Hanks,” Evan said. “Well, and you told me you like romcoms. Not to mention it starts in fifteen minutes.” 

Tommy could have kissed him, especially because he’d noticed that three other movies were also starting around the same time. One of the Lord of the Rings movies, Inception, and a Marvel movie. Any of those would have been easy picks for Evan, but he’d gone with the romantic comedy all because of Tommy. 

Evan was just amazing and Tommy was replaying the way the date ended pretty much all the time in his head because it had ended with one of the best kisses that Tommy had ever had. Evan had just gone for it, his enthusiasm taking over and making the kiss just on the side of rough and deep and like Evan was making his best effort to devour Tommy entirely. To leave his mark behind. Tommy couldn’t wait to kiss him again. To see him again. 

If he’d thought that they texted constantly before, it increased after their date. 

Evan texted him all throughout his day out with his sister at the florist complete with pictures of the flowers they were considering. Evan texted him on his downtime on shift. Thoughts about a podcast episode that Tommy had told him to listen to, random facts that almost came out of nowhere. They didn’t talk about their date or the kisses they had shared so far, but Evan was flirty even over text and Tommy couldn’t help but flirt back. 

It was almost a whole week before Tommy got to see him again, but it was because the 118 was getting together at Hen and Karen’s house and somehow they decided to include Tommy. 

He arrived with a berry topped cheesecake in hand even though Hen had told him he didn’t need to bring anything. Karen opened the door. 

“Hey, come on in,” she said warmly. “Everyone’s outside. Buck hasn’t been cajoled into shifting yet, but it will happen with time so that’s always fun to watch.” 

Tommy didn’t know Karen all that well. He remembered meeting her back when he was still at the 118 and thinking that Hen had done well for herself. He knew Howie had been responsible for them getting together and — come to think of it — he was sort of responsible for him meeting Evan. 

Karen led him through the house. It was cozy and lived in. A family home. 

Athena and Hen were laughing at a table, the third chair seemingly Karen’s and a fourth pushed in. Bobby was once more behind the grill, apron on. His eyes searched for Evan, but he didn’t spot him. 

“Tommy’s here,” Karen announced. 

He got a chorus of hello’s. Tommy smiled and waved at everyone. 

“Where should I put this?” 

“Oh, right here is fine,” Hen said. 

He moved towards the table and Hen snatched the cheesecake from him and then motioned for him to take the fourth chair at the table. 

“Come sit with us. We can catch up.” 

“Can I get you a drink?” Karen offered. 

“Uh…just a beer is fine,” Tommy said. 

Karen smiled easily. “Coming right up.” 

They brought him right into their conversation, apparently a discussion about Evan’s attempts at getting Chim to allow him to plan a bachelor’s party for him. 

“Chim doesn’t want it, Athena,” Hen said. 

“I think Buck is just trying to show how much he appreciates Chim. Would it be so bad?” Athena asked. 

Hen let out a sigh. “It’s just adding one more thing that he doesn’t want.” 

“What does that mean?” Karen asked after placing Tommy’s beer in front of him and taking the remaining chair. 

“Well, the wedding was supposed to be small and now it’s become this whole thing,” Hen said. 

“Why is that?” Tommy asked. 

“Maddie’s parents.” 

Which meant Evan’s parents too. Evan had never once talked about or mentioned them, not that Tommy ever went into his own family. 

“What about them?” Tommy asked. 

“They offered to pay for the wedding,” Karen explained. “And since any wedding is gonna get expensive, Chim and Maddie decided to let them.”

“Things escalated from there,” Athena offered and from the way that her eyebrows raised Tommy could tell it hadn’t been in a good way. 

“Now,” Hen said, “the wedding is this big event. Maddie’s parents have invited some family friends and the guest list has gotten bigger than what either Maddie or Chim wanted. It’s been a bit stressful for them both.” 

“And now Buck wants to throw a bachelor’s party,” Karen said. “Well, maybe it won’t be a bad thing. What do you think, Tommy?” 

Tommy felt put on the spot. He ran a finger over the condensation on the beer bottle. “I guess if Howie is really opposed. But it could also be nice if the party isn’t something wild and crazy.” 

Hen hummed in response. 

“It also sounds like Evan is just trying to show Howie how much he welcomes him into the family,” Tommy added. 

The conversation shifted after that. Tommy was distracted, when he finally saw Evan. He seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with his sister. A serious one going by the way that they both looked more than a little agitated. 

“What’s going on over there?” Hen asked. 

“I don’t know,” Athena said. 

Tommy felt the strange pull to go to Evan and soothe him. It felt like the wolf wanting to break through. Instinct that didn’t make sense to Tommy in any way. He forced himself to stay put as Karen began discussing the newest thing at her job. 

“And how’s it been flying for air support?” Karen directed at him. 

“I love it,” Tommy said. 

“He’s pretty great at it too,” Hen added. 

Tommy looked down. “I do alright.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kinard.” 

He told them a few stories from work and couldn’t deny how good it felt to be around people that understood him and knew a big part of him. Karen even asked about how he dealt with being a Werewolf and working air support. 

Athena in particular got a kick out of Tommy admitting that he pretended he was very superstitious about full moons. 

“That’s a new one. You’ll have to tell Bobby about that,” Hen said. 

“How, uh, how did you all find out about Buck?”

Buck had never told him, he realized, but he remembered how close Hen and Chim were by the time he left and how different things had started to seem when Bobby arrived, but it certainly hadn’t been like it was now. 

“He didn’t keep it hidden for long,” Hen said and she explained about the day she found out. 

“Of course it was to help someone out,” Tommy said. 

Hen nodded with a smile. “That’s our Buckaroo.” 

—

“No,” Buck said, shaking his head. “No. Maddie, tell them they can’t come a week early.” 

Maddie sighed. “It’s not like they’re going to listen to me. You know them, Buck. They weren’t asking as much as letting me know they were coming early.” 

“And where are they staying?” Buck asked. 

When Maddie had gotten the call, Buck had assumed it was something to do with the wedding. He hadn’t noticed it at first, the stress that Maddie was under. He’d known she was busy with wedding planning and to him it had just seemed like something good and happy. Maddie and Chim were finally getting married. 

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. Not when their parents got involved. 

After leaving home all those years ago, Buck hadn’t looked back. It went both ways in the sense that his parents never tried to reach out to him. Later he learned from Maddie that they had asked her if she knew about where he was and upon confirmation that Maddie knew he’d gone they’d just left it at that. Buck couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t hurt to know they didn’t care. It had made it easier to leave them behind, though. 

After he was bitten, that was when he was absolutely sure that he wouldn’t be talking to his parents any time soon. He didn’t even tell Maddie about his lycanthropy until she came out to California. It had been a real shock to her, but it wasn’t something that Buck was willing to hide when Maddie was right there in front of him. 

“Where are they staying, Maddie?” Buck asked. 

“I offered them the guest room at my house,” Maddie said. “I only thought they’d be here for the weekend.” 

Buck let out a breath. In truth he had no problem with his parents being around. He’d done alright the last time they came out, granted he’d been in a coma for a part of it. Still, he and Maddie had planned that out meticulously so they’d be gone before the full moon. It was the same reason that Maddie had picked out the day she did for the wedding, it was four days after the full moon which meant that if their parents were arriving a week beforehand they’d be there during the full moon. 

“Look, you’ll just have to be careful,” Maddie said. “I’ll tell them you’re working and keep them occupied with the wedding and Jee.” 

Buck let out a breath. “Yeah and then I’ll never hear the end of how I was so unhelpful during my own sister’s wedding.” 

Maddie looked frustrated. Annoyed with him even and he hated that, but he also knew that he was right and that things might go even worse. When it came down to it, Buck was the thing their parents hunted and they would hate him if they ever found out he was a Werewolf. A part of him even wondered if they might try to kill him. 

“I know you’re worried,” Maddie said. “And I’m sorry I’m bringing them back here again.” 

Buck sighed. He pulled her into a hug. “Just…I know you’re stressed but this will go so much worse if they figure out what I am. Even worse if they find out about Eddie. About Tommy.”

That made him tense up. What would they do to them…but no, Buck would keep his best friend and his — well, whatever he and Tommy were — he would keep them away from the Buckleys no matter what it took. 

“I know,” Maddie said. “I know. But you know we won’t let them do anything to any of you.”

He hugged Maddie and he watched her go to where Chim was sitting on a blanket on the grass with Jee and her toys. He could tell that Maddie was filling him in from the way that Chim tensed. The wedding was supposed to be happy and one of the best days for Maddie and Chim and it was slowly becoming something else instead. Buck didn’t want to add to the stress.

Walking towards Bobby, he spotted Tommy at the table. He hadn’t even known that he’d got there and his breath caught in his throat. Something inside him unfurled and he just…he let go because Tommy was just a few feet from him and already looking at him. Buck had never felt the way he felt about Tommy, not for anyone. 

“Buck? Are you alright?” Bobby asked. 

Buck turned to him at once. “I’m — yeah, I’m…turns out my parents are getting here earlier than we planned. They’ll be here during the full moon.” 

“They’re not going to find out, Buck,” Bobby said. “We’ll do anything we can to prevent that.” 

“I know,” Buck said. “I know. It’s just…” he trailed off. 

Bobby reached out, touching his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Buck.”

He really really hoped so.

—

“What’s wrong?” Tommy didn’t get to ask until it was almost fully dark out. 

The whole day, he and Evan had wound up with other people between them. Tommy was happy to feel so included and to have more than just Evan as a reason to be there, but it almost felt like anytime he and Evan would get close someone would come along to start talking to one or both of them. 

“Wrong?” Evan asked. 

“Evan, something is bothering you.” 

Evan gave a short nod. “Turns out mine and Maddie’s parents are coming to stay the week before the wedding.”

Having gotten the sense that there was something up with Evan’s parents and going by this reaction, Tommy was even more sure there was something going on there that he didn’t know about. 

“Are you not okay with that?”

Evan chuckled. “Oh, I am definitely not okay with it. Maddie has a better relationship with them and they’re trying. You know, they helped them with the downpayment on the house and now they’re paying for the wedding, it’s all guilt money but it’s meant well.”

“And where do you fit in?” Tommy asked. 

“I fit in here,” Evan said. “With everyone here. There are some things that you can’t come back from.”

Maybe Evan wasn’t giving him a full detailed explanation, but Tommy understood. He understood better than most, so when he reached for Evan’s hand and Evan grasped it, he hoped to convey that understanding. Families were complicated. He hadn’t spoken to his in years. 

“We tried to plan it out so we could avoid the full moon,” Evan said. “Now they’ll be here during.” 

“They don’t know you’re a Werewolf,” Tommy said. 

Evan gave a nod. “I’m hoping they’ll never know.” And then he got really serious. He turned to stand directly in front of Tommy and grabbed his other hand. “Tommy, my parents…they can never know any of us are Werewolves.”

There was something there that Evan seemed to want to convey. He actually sounded kind of scared, which Tommy didn’t ever want to see on Evan again. 

“What’s…what’s going on, Evan?” 

Eddie, who had been convinced to shift into his wolf came running at them all of a sudden, bumping into Evan’s side and sending him right into Tommy, who grabbed hold of Evan. Evan leaned into him and fixed his arms to rest around Tommy’s waist and Eddie circled them, tail hitting their legs before he gave a wuff and left. 

“I think that’s Eddie asking why we’re both still on two legs,” Tommy said. 

Evan was still in his arms and Tommy pulled him in closer. Evan didn’t seem to mind. 

“Can I tell you later?” Evan asked. “It’s just—”

“Yes, Evan. Of course.”

He could feel the way that Evan relaxed and that was maybe concerning on its own. 

“Parents are complicated,” he said. “I get that. Are you gonna join Eddie?” 

“Only if you do it too?” Evan asked, smiling at him with just a touch of playfulness. 

In Tommy’s opinion, it was a bad idea to have three Werewolves in someone’s backyard, especially one that wasn’t all that big, but Evan was looking at him with so much hope that Tommy couldn’t have said no. He followed Evan to a spot around the house and they did quick work of their clothes. They walked out side by side and Tommy hadn’t been expecting that everyone was waiting for them. It made him self conscious and like he should just shift right back to human. 

Evan bumped his shoulder into his and when Hen approached, Evan put himself between them and Tommy watched as Hen pet Evan’s head and down his back. 

“Tommy,” she said, “you make a beautiful wolf.” 

He inched closer and her hand was hesitant when she touched him, but her fingers tangled in his fur gently and he could smell how happy and pleased she was. Howie approached them, Jee in his arms. Tommy had seen Evan and Eddie with the kids, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t scared about interacting with them himself, especially Jee who was the youngest and smallest. But Howie brought her closer and Tommy held himself still as her little hands touched him, patting him. Her giggles and how she tried to wrap her tiny arms around him melted his heart. 

Tommy met all of them again as a wolf. Maddie pet his head and scratched his ears. Christopher threw his arms around Tommy’s neck and Karen ran her fingers through his fur, fixing anything that had gotten rumpled. They all smelled wonderful and welcoming, but Evan’s scent was what Tommy gravitated towards. 

He stuck by him, couldn’t help but want to be near Evan. Evan seemed to feel the same. 

Tommy had no idea how long they ran around as wolves. He’d never been petted or had so many different hands in his fur. He hadn’t known how good it would feel or how it would make him feel like he actually belonged there. He didn’t want to think of them as pack, they weren’t there yet, but the possibility was there. The acceptance was there. 

“Come over?” Evan asked when they were both getting re-dressed. 

Tommy slipped his shirt on and turned to find Evan leaning against the side of Hen and Karen’s house. 

He looked amazing. Hair mussed, his shirt a little wonky. Tommy crossed the distance between them and Evan just waited for him, head tilted up like he was waiting to see what Tommy would do. Tommy leaned in towards him, pressed his hands on the house on either side of Evan and gave Evan just about enough time to push him away before he kissed him. Evan kissed back at once, drew him in closer with hands that landed on Tommy’s hips. 

The kiss was hungry, it was passionate. Tommy could keep kissing him forever if he were allowed. 

The sound of something falling tore them apart and they turned to find Eddie. He was only in jeans, shirt held to his chest bunched up. His shoes were what had tumbled out of his arms.

“Sorry,” Eddie said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Then, he picked up his shoes and backed away, but he looked way too pleased with himself.

When Tommy looked back at Evan, he was leaning back against the house, but when their eyes met he let out a laugh and then his arms were around Tommy and his face was pressed to the space between Tommy’s neck and shoulder, still laughing. 

“Evan, we should go out there,” Tommy said. 

“I’ve been trying to find a way to tell them. But that…that works.” 

Evan laughed again and Tommy joined him. They hadn’t had that discussion. They hadn’t really talked about anything because they had kissed a few times and gone on a single date and been too busy to do more than flirt over text. 

“Eddie isn’t going back there to tell everyone is he?” Tommy asked. 

“He won’t,” Evan said. “He was just going to be the hardest to tell. Might give me some grief, but I’m glad he knows.”

—

Buck didn’t hate that Eddie found out by seeing him and Tommy kissing. He just mostly thought it was funny and that it made things easier for him. It eased the conversation that he and Eddie would have about it later. When he and Tommy finally did get back, Eddie met his eyes only to shake his head and look away. Hen raised an eyebrow in his direction and there was a moment when Buck thought that maybe she knew what was going on too. Considering how he’d called her before the first date, there was more than enough reason for him to think Hen definitely could put it together. 

They all headed out around the same time, picking up after themselves so it wouldn’t all be up to Hen and Karen. 

Eddie walked out with him and Tommy. Chris walking just ahead of them. 

“I didn’t want to see it, but I approve,” Eddie said before he went to help Chris get into the car. 

“Oh. I’m — it’s new.” 

Eddie chuckled. “I figured, though I should have seen it coming. See you at work?” 

“Yeah. See you. Bye, Chris!” 

Chris waved at him. 

When he got back to Tommy, he grabbed his hand. Their fingers linked together and Buck loved the way their hands fit. He loved that Tommy’s hand was bigger than his, but that they still managed to fit together. Tommy pulled him towards him and then in the direction of Buck’s Jeep.

[via-the-cryptid]

oooh it’s been a hot second, but I’m back to continue the Gotham Ghost AU!!

Ellie is now bandaged and no longer contains a bullet, Ace is chilling somewhere in the ceiling with her hand sticking out so Ellie can see where she is (they have separation anxiety), and Eddie is… in his room having a crisis. there’s a fucking CHILD in his house, and he can’t kick her out because he’s been struck with the uncontrollable urge to study her brain, but what does one do about a child being in their house? does he… give her things? food? a book? is the ceiling ghost negotiable or is that addition mandatory? what if he stunts her mental growth and her mind becomes unsuitable for proper use?

Eddie is, of course, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s worrying over her like a new adoptive parent. to be fair, at this point he thinks of her more like a fond experiment than a child that is under his protection, but the fact is that he’s still acting like a concerned dad.

but of course, we can’t have nice things while I’m around because I am a master of hurting characters in the best worst ways possible! which means that now it’s time to point out: as far as Eddie knows, Ellie is just some weird-looking little girl whose brain works sideways. he doesn’t know about her powers, nor does he know she’s technically half-dead and also not from this dimension! Ace is aware of Ellie’s Oddness(TM) but still hasn’t really seen Ellie turn herself human.

why, you ask? she can’t! Ellie’s powers are on the fritz from the portal incident, meaning that for the moment, she’s stuck as a ghost. and worse, she still doesn’t actually trust the Riddler. she’s known too many people who only wanted to use her, and she’s still not sure what his real motives are. for now, she’ll stick close and observe, but the second something goes wrong, she’s getting the hell out of dodge.

Ellie knows all too well that she can’t trust anyone but herself, after all. Not even the ghosts can save her if she’s caught at the wrong moment, and most of them would rather watch her burn than put the fire out.