#you know when I got this prompt
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metalhoops Ā· 2 years ago
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ā€œI think Iā€™m seeing things, man,ā€ Eddie spoke from his spot on the Harringtonā€™s couch. His white skin appeared paler still against the brown leather.Ā 
Steve didnā€™t blame him. He was on all kinds of painkillers. Itā€™d been two weeks since the world fell apart. Two weeks since Vecna disappeared. Two weeks since Eddie almost died.Ā 
Steve liked to treat those memories as others treated head-on collisions. It was better not to look at them directly. It was better to treat it like itā€™d never happened.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™re we looking at?ā€ Steve asked from his spot on the floor, following Eddieā€™s line of sight to the gap in the curtains.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t know. Thought I saw somebody outside,ā€ Eddie confessed.Ā 
The Harrington house had always been filled with spectres, whether that of partygoers, like front lawn flamingos in need of an exorcism or the body in the backyard pool. But those were Steveā€™s hang-ups, not Eddieā€™s.Ā 
If all it took to be a ghost was to haunt, Eddie might be included in the ranks of his own private phantasmagoria. He kept checking each night to make sure the boy was really there, that heā€™d really gotten out. People shouldnā€™t have that much blood in them, and they definitely shouldnā€™t have that much blood out of them.Ā 
Steve went to the window because that was something he could do for Eddie. He wasnā€™t sure why he kept feeling the need to apologise. He hadnā€™t done anything wrong, but hell if Steve knew if heā€™d done anything right either. Heā€™d gotten Eddie out of the Upside Down. Heā€™d put his hands inside the boyā€™s body, shoved his shirt beneath his skin and held it in the dark cavity that oozed and throbbed warm blood like the rise and fall of the tide.
Donā€™t think about it. Check the window. His hands at his side felt cold. He wondered if theyā€™d ever be warm again. There was a figure across the street.Ā 
A boy in a basketball jersey circled passed the house.Ā 
Things never ended smoothly. Steve liked to think once Jason went down the rest of the vigilante crew would stop looking for Eddie, but there were some stragglers who hadnā€™t got the message.Ā 
Hopper had his hands full trying to clear Eddieā€™s name. Eddieā€™s uncle was still looking for him. The whole town was holding their breath in the midst of destruction, waiting for someone to blame. Steve shut the curtains, turned the lights off and moved to Eddieā€™s side in the darkness.Ā 
ā€œHounds of hell still circling then?ā€ Eddie guessed after one glimpse at Steveā€™s face.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll call Hopper,ā€ Steve reasoned, reaching up to squeeze Eddieā€™s knee. He wasnā€™t sure why heā€™d done it. Maybe to make sure he was real. Maybe to tell him he was sorry.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t worry about it, Steve,ā€ Eddie spoke, reaching out and snagging the hem of Steveā€™s sweater.
ā€œNo one thinks Iā€™m here. If the cops show up at the Harringtonsā€™ itā€™s going to turn some heads,ā€ Eddie reasoned, and he was right.
So where did that leave them? Sitting alone in the dark with Eddie fading in and out of sleep and Steve watching car headlights dance across the curtains, waiting for the moment everything went wrong.Ā 
ā€œSteve?ā€ Eddie breathed beside Steveā€™s ear in the blackness. He hadnā€™t realised they were so close.Ā 
ā€œYeah?ā€ Steve moved his eyes from the window to look at Eddie.Ā 
ā€œI think Iā€™m crashing,ā€ he noted, a grimace dancing across his face. Steve had never felt smaller.Ā 
ā€œDoc said weā€™ve gotta wait six hours,ā€ Steve replied, hoping he didnā€™t sound as worried as he felt.Ā 
ā€œHow longā€™s it been?ā€Ā 
ā€œThree.ā€Ā 
Steve always wanted to appear cool in times of crisis, but he had no idea what he was doing. Some of the government agents Steve had signed countless NDAs for over the past four years had patched Eddie up as best they could and had started scrambling for a cover-up.Ā 
In the meantime, Eddie would stay at Steveā€™s place. It made the most sense. Eddie was nobody to Steve. No one would go looking for Eddie at the Harringtonsā€™, and unlike the other older teens, he didnā€™t have parents to answer to. Big house. No parents. Perfect place to lie low.Ā 
Steve was nobody to Eddie and yet for the past week, theyā€™d been an island unto themselves, trapped indoors together, watching shadows on the walls and trying to keep each other alive and sane. He felt completely unprepared.Ā 
ā€œAlright. Come on. Letā€™s go to bed,ā€ Steve muttered, kneeling in front of Eddie. He watched the boy rise to a sitting position over his shoulder. Eddie snorted.
ā€œWhat exactly is the plan here, Steve?ā€Ā 
Eddie had been stuck oscillating between the living room, kitchen, and downstairs bathroom for days. They could both use a change of scenery.Ā 
ā€œPiggyback,ā€ Steve spoke, trying not to think about the connotations that the word had garnered. He wasnā€™t going to think about Vecna. Not today.Ā 
He expected the boy to argue, but instead, he felt Eddieā€™s arms snake around his throat. He held tight, but not as tight as he should. Steve had to hold on to his forearms like backpack straps as he stood. Eddieā€™s legs were stronger. They held firm around Steveā€™s waist.Ā 
Eddieā€™s head flopped against Steveā€™s shoulder blade, nuzzling into the space. He was warm as the sun. Too warm. He was running a temperature. Steve tried not to think of the last time he carried Eddie. The boy was uncharacteristically quiet. Steve needed to do something.Ā 
ā€œSaddle up, buckeroo,ā€ Steve spoke, hoisting Eddie further up his back. He felt a puff of air against his neck, a barely there laugh.Ā 
ā€œHi-yo, Silver,ā€ Eddie grumbled against Steveā€™s skin.Ā 
Steve moved deftly through the dark, taking the staircase slowly and methodically. The last thing either of them needed was another broken bone.Ā 
ā€œI think I owe you one once all this is over,ā€ Eddie noted. Steve was already shaking his head.
ā€œYou stick around, and Iā€™ll call it a favour. I think Henderson would kick my ass if you died.ā€Ā 
ā€œThe kidā€™s got spunk. Iā€™ll give him that,ā€ Eddie noted as the two reached the top of the stairs.Ā 
ā€œHeā€™s got an attitude and a problem with authority,ā€ Steve corrected, taking Eddie to his bedroom.
He moved to the edge of his bed and let Eddie extract himself. When they broke apart, Steve felt cold again.Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s our boy,ā€ Eddie chuckled, shooting Steve a lopsided smirk. He was definitely still high on painkillers.
Steve rolled his eyes and helped lower Eddie down onto his favourite pillow, the one worn down with age but all the more comfortable for it. He pulled the covers up around the boyā€™s shoulders.
ā€œYeah, our boy,ā€ Steve echoed in a too-fond tone.Ā 
Heā€™d never let Henderson hear the term of affection. The kid had a big enough head as it was, but in the too-quiet world of just himself and Eddie, he felt okay admitting it. Once it looked like Eddie was settled in, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, feeling as he always did, like a stranger in his own home.Ā 
ā€œWhen did you last get some shut-eye, boy wonder?ā€ Eddie asked, his foot tucking beneath Steveā€™s thigh.Ā Ā 
Friday. What day was it? Sunday. Not good.Ā 
ā€œWell, come on then, donā€™t make a guy beg. Lay down, Steve. Itā€™s your bed. I could sleep in the spare room if itā€™s a problem.ā€ There was something cautious about the offer Steve didnā€™t understand.Ā 
He flopped down beside Eddie, so close the two shared a pillow. It changed the shape of the thing. It made the familiar strange.Ā 
ā€œYou know, I had this dream last night,ā€ Eddie began, his dark eyes still open, glued to the ceiling. He cringed, knowing all the ways dreams could go bad, but Eddie shook his head.
ā€œNot that kind of dream,ā€ He insisted, his hands balling into fists on the bedsheets.Ā 
ā€œI had a dream I was a pinball machine,ā€ the boy stated plainly. The absurdity of the statement shocked a laugh out of Steve.Ā 
ā€œThese painkillers are legit, Harrington,ā€ Eddie spoke, shooting Steve a sidelong glance.Ā 
ā€œWhat kind of pinball machine?ā€Ā 
ā€œYou know the Centaur one? Itā€™s black and white, mostly. The arts got this topless guy whoā€™s half man, half motorbike,ā€ Eddie explained.Ā 
Steve had no idea what he was saying, but it was nice to hear him talk.Ā 
ā€œWait, if you were the pinball machine, how did you know what you looked like?ā€Ā 
ā€œGreat question Steven. Iā€™ve got no clue. Dream logic,ā€ Eddie reasoned.Ā Ā 
Steve screwed up his nose at the use of his full name. Only his dad called him Steven. Eddie raised a brow, seeming to take note. One of them had shifted closer. Steve wasnā€™t sure who. Eddieā€™s hand brushed against his side as he played with the sheets.Ā 
ā€œRemind me again why I needed to know about your pinball dream?ā€ Steve asked. The sound of the wind in the trees outside his bedroom window set his teeth on edge.Ā 
ā€œBecause youā€™re too damn serious and I thought itā€™d make you smile... Which it did.ā€ Eddie added the last part in quietly and Steve rolled his eyes.Ā 
Eddie craned his head to look around Steveā€™s room before screwing up his nose.Ā 
ā€œAnyone ever told you your wallpaper is gaudy as hell? Your curtains match your walls. Dude, I thought rich people were meant to have taste,ā€ he observed, the boysā€™ shoulders pressed together.Ā 
ā€œThis coming from the guy who eats cereal out of the box with his hands,ā€ Steve countered, no heat in his voice.Ā 
ā€œAre you still mad I used to stand on your lunch table?ā€ Eddie muttered, shoving Steveā€™s shoulder before tensing. When had Steve last checked his dressings?Ā 
He flipped the bedside lamp on, leaning over Eddie to do so. Heā€™d been helping the guy shower for days now. Privacy was a word reserved for other people. Intimacy was a necessity.Ā Ā 
ā€œOnce you stood in my mashed potatoes. It was disgusting,ā€ Steve uttered, gently peeling up the hem of Eddieā€™s tee shirt. Really, it was Steveā€™s, but it seemed strange to make distinctions.Ā 
Eddieā€™s eyes trailed down to Steveā€™s fingers, half-hooded and slowed with sleep or inebriation, Steve didnā€™t know which. He wondered how much of all this Eddie would remember when he got better. He would get better.Ā 
ā€œYou never ate the potatoes. Youā€™d bring your stupid bagels from home,ā€ Eddie remarked, as Steve carefully unwound the bandage and gauze. It was stained brown with dried blood, but it looked better than itā€™d been a few days before, no longer as red or swollen.Ā  Ā 
The bagel comment made Steve look up. Seemed like Robin wasnā€™t the only one thatā€™d been watching him. Maybe Eddie had a crush on Tammy Thompson, too. Maybe it was something else. Steveā€™s friends had crappy taste in women. Eddie could do better.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s the verdict, doc?ā€ Eddie questioned, noticing Steveā€™s sudden silence.Ā 
He cleaned the wounds as best he could. Eddieā€™s fingers had found their way to Steveā€™s thigh, gripping so tight he thought it would bruise. It would be another to add to the collection. Steve hadnā€™t been thinking of how his battle wounds were healing. He was in triage mode. Eddieā€™s wounds were worse than his.Ā 
ā€œWe're going to have to amputate,ā€ Steve deadpanned as he found the first aid kit heā€™d hidden beneath his bed years before, starting to redress the wound.Ā 
ā€œHow the hell can you amputate a side?ā€ Eddie asked with a shaky laugh, his breathing more ragged again.Ā 
ā€œWell, you see, thereā€™s this new experimental procedure that lets you transplant your brain into a pinball machine,ā€ Steve began and felt Eddieā€™s elbow in his side.Ā 
ā€œScrew you.ā€Ā 
Steve laid back beside Eddie, less space between them than before, if it was at all possible. They braced against each other, the contact grounding Steve. Eddie was alive. He was alive. Maybe one day they could look at each other and not think about death. That day wasnā€™t today, but Steve could hope for it.Ā 
As Eddie drifted to sleep, his head fell on Steveā€™s shoulder. He wouldnā€™t sleep for long that night, but he was used to that. He knew the weeks and months after a run-in with the Upside Down were full of fitful sleep and nightmares, but they never lasted.Ā 
On a long enough timeline, you could get used to anything. It was strange how short that timeline was when it came to getting used to Eddie.Ā 
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More days came and went with the same imperfect routines. The two boys woke at all hours of the night and spent the daylight hours behind closed curtains, trying to heal.Ā 
By the third day, Steve got sick of the quiet. A sombre mood hung over them, shifting and changing like the phases of the moon. It never entirely disappeared, but there were moments it seemed almost absent.Ā Ā 
One of these such moments arose when Steve hijacked the boombox from the living room and dragged it upstairs to his bedroom, where a slowly healing Eddie sat bored out of his mind, aching and itchy. Steve knew the feeling. The wound on his neck had scabbed and begun to fade into a scar.Ā 
ā€œHey, Munson?ā€ Steve spoke, sitting beside Eddie, spreading his tape collection between them.Ā 
ā€œYou wanna hear some real music?ā€ He asked, watching Eddieā€™s nose scrunch and his teeth worry away at his bottom lip.
ā€œThese are all horrible, Harrington.ā€Ā 
Eddie turned over several cassettes in his hand, treating them gently as though they were something special.Ā Ā 
ā€œYou have every WHAM! album, dude. The Outfield. Halls & Oats. Tears for Fears,ā€ Eddie listed off, his tone one of disgust.Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re going to have to pick something, or Iā€™ll pickĀ WHAM! out of spite.ā€Ā 
Eddie rolled his eyes and shuffled through the tapes, tossing one Steveā€™s way.Ā 
ā€œBowie isnā€™t horrible,ā€ Eddie mumbled as Steve placedĀ The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, into the player.Ā 
The two sat shoulder to shoulder, as always, listening to the quiet swell of drums. Steve realised too late it was a song about the end of the world. He realised, later still, that it was a love song. Eddieā€™s fingers drummed against his knee. Steve tried to ignore the way the action made his heart swell.Ā 
Steve couldnā€™t sit still any longer asĀ Moonaged Daydream began. He remembered another life in Nancy Wheelerā€™s garage, asking her to pretend things were normal for a couple of hours. God, he wanted that. He needed a few normal hours.
He wasnā€™t the same person heā€™d been back then, but parts of him had stayed the same. He didnā€™t know how to change them. Nancy Wheeler faced problems head-on, but Steve? The passage of time had taught him how to stand his ground in the face of danger, but he hadnā€™t yet learned how to stop being chased.Ā 
He caught Eddieā€™s eye and watched as a wicked grin spread across his face. Without words, he knew exactly what Steve was about to do. He grabbed the nail bat he kept by the bed, the same one from the Wheelerā€™s garage and sang, using the gnarly weapon as his makeshift microphone. He was a little too loud and a little off-tune.Ā  He sang about alligators and space invaders, lyrics he knew off by heart, without understanding them.
He watched as a grin threatened to crack Eddieā€™s face in two. There was a reckless abandon to his smile. It was different from the glazed-eyed, half-high smiles of the past week. His eyes were keen and sharp as he watched Steve fling himself across the room in the way only someone whoā€™d learned to dance drunk could.
By the time the album finished, heā€™d worked up a sweat. Eddie joined in, singing a couple of lines when he could before tugging Steve back to bed, his hand in Steveā€™s hair, smoothing it back in place. The action was intimate, yet familiar.
ā€œAlright, Starman. Maybe Bowie doesnā€™t suck so hard, but when Iā€™m not on the run from the law, Iā€™m going to show you what real music sounds like.ā€Ā 
ā€œPromise?ā€ Steve asked, his chest heaving.Ā 
Then, Eddie did something so unlike anything the populous of Hawkins would expect. To them, he was a Satanist and a murderer. Steve had always known better, but heā€™d seen Eddie as a wildcard. He was loud and rough around the edges, but he also had the capability of being endearing when the moment called for it. Still, Steve had never expected Eddie to roll over, extend his pinkie and link their little fingers together.Ā 
ā€œI promise,ā€ He assured, placing his lips to the knuckle of his thumb as though sealing the deal.Ā 
The action was equal parts childlike and intense. Steve looked down at their interlaced fingers and knew he was in over his head. Warmth pooled in Steveā€™s fingertips.Ā 
ā€œEds, Iā€”,ā€ A knock at the downstairs door made the words die on Steveā€™s lips. The boys pulled apart. Steve was cold.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll get it,ā€ Steve spoke, picking up the discarded nail bat and trudging down the stairs.Ā 
He hoped it was one of the door-knocking jocks. Some primal part of him felt like hitting something. Years before, he would have questioned if he was the kind of person who could do it, but now he knew he could.Ā 
Steve clutched at the bat hidden behind his back as he swung open the door, coming face-to-face with an older man dressed in too-short jean shorts, holding an armful of paper bags. He looked familiar. Heā€™d seen the man with Hopper. A furrow etched its way onto his brow.Ā 
ā€œArenā€™t you going to let your beloved uncle in, Steve?ā€ The man spoke, loud enough for the people in the next neighbourhood to hear.Ā 
ā€œRight,ā€ Steve mumbled, pushing the door open and stepping to the side.Ā 
The man walked through the house as though heā€™d grown up within their walls, dropping the paper bags on the countertop, switching on the lights and examining the space.Ā 
ā€œHopper sent me with supplies. Itā€™d draw too much attention having the feds at your front door, but a visit from your favourite Uncle Murray? Thatā€™s incognito. Iā€™ve got groceries and painkillers, slipped in some vodka too, on the house. Personally, I was thinking of making my homemade ravioli for dinner. Trust me, itā€™s to die for. Whereā€™s the other one by the way?ā€ The man, Murray, breathed, spinning on his heels to examine the interior of the house.Ā  Steve let his nail bat fall to the floor.
ā€œYou really should invest in a gun, kid...Was I interrupting something?ā€ The older man asked, gesturing absentmindedly to his balding head. Steve touched his hair and found it still out of place. He ran his fingers through it in an attempt to tame it.Ā 
ā€œNo, we... I was sleeping. Eddieā€™s upstairs. I think heā€™s okay, but I could use another set of eyes. I donā€™t know exactly what Iā€™m doing here. Are you staying?ā€
ā€œIā€™m just staying for dinner. Itā€™d look strange if your uncle only showed up for a few minutes, wouldnā€™t it?ā€ Steve didnā€™t dignify that with an answer.Ā 
ā€œThereā€™s the man of the hour,ā€ Murray spoke, glancing up at the top of the staircase where Eddie stood, leaning heavily on the banister.Ā 
ā€œWhat happened to staying up there?ā€ Steve spoke through gritted teeth, making his way back up the stairs.Ā 
ā€œYou were taking too long,ā€ Eddie muttered with an unbothered shrug.Ā 
ā€œAnd if itā€™d been one of Jasonā€™s asshole friends, weā€™d have been screwed,ā€ Steve rebutted, letting Eddie lean on him as they made their way to Murray in the kitchen. At least he could walk.
ā€œBut it wasnā€™t,ā€ Eddie huffed, his breath warm on Steveā€™s neck.Ā 
Steve kicked out one of the kitchen chairs and lowered Eddie into it. The older man watched them as a scientist observes a specimen. There was a morbid fascination to it.
ā€œI see you two are getting along well,ā€ He spoke.Ā 
Heā€™d found where Steveā€™s mother had stored their pots and had begun some strange kitchen alchemy. Steve had made risotto. This guy looked like he was completing a summoning ritual. The ingredients were splayed out on the countertop like objects of adoration.Ā 
Steve sat down in the chair beside Eddie. It felt strange having someone else in the house. For what seemed like a lifetime, his world had consisted of one other person. He missed Robin, Dustin, and the rest of the kids, but he hadnā€™t let himself dwell on it. Heā€™d known their isolation couldnā€™t last forever, but heā€™d never have guessed Murray would be the first person heā€™d see.Ā Ā 
ā€œTense mood. Why is it I always end up in the middle of couples in denial?ā€ Murray breathed to himself.Ā 
Eddieā€™s head snapped up with a speed Steve hadnā€™t seen him manage all week. Steve didnā€™t look at Murray, he was too busy trying to unpick the pained look on Eddieā€™s face. His eyes searched the boyā€™s body for some torn open wound heā€™d missed.Ā 
ā€œWhat? Donā€™t look so surprised. Contrary to what kids these days think, we did have homosexuality in the sixties,ā€ Murray informed before pausing. He gave Steve a once-over that made his skin crawl. He felt as though he were a bug, pinned beneath a glass plate.Ā 
ā€œAnd bisexuality,ā€ He clarified.Ā 
Steve averted his eyes and reached over to squeeze Eddieā€™s knee. He was hopelessly lost in the conversation, but he knew something was wrong with Eddie. The boy jumped at the sudden contact and Steve pulled his hand away as though burnt.Ā 
ā€œSo, whatā€™s the problem? Still in denial?ā€ Murray asked, levelling Steve with a knowing look. He scowled back at the man, ready for him to leave.Ā 
ā€œNo. I think you know how you feel, maybe even how he feels.ā€ Steve didnā€™t know how to respond.Ā 
ā€œYou, however,ā€ Murray continued, turning his attention to Eddie, the boiling pot on the stove, forgotten.
ā€œI donā€™t think you have a clue. Self-esteem issues, maybe. You try to hide it, but you couldnā€™t imagine that someone in a house like this would look at you twice.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhat the hell, man?ā€ Eddie breathed with a huff of indignation. Murray showed no signs of stopping. His eyes were back on Steve.Ā 
ā€œSo, whatā€™s holding you back? You got your heart broken after Nancy Wheeler. Let me guess, you keep saying how much you want commitment, but you keep dating the wrong people, people who donā€™t want to be tied down. That, my boy, is self-sabotage and him,ā€ Murray spoke, indicating Eddie with a wooden spoon heā€™d been using to stir the rice.Ā 
ā€œHe looks like a long-haul kind of guy.ā€Ā 
ā€œDude,ā€ Eddie interjected.Ā 
ā€œWhat? Youā€™re both obviously attracted to one another. Donā€™t lie. I have eyes. Youā€™re telling me that all this near-death stuff hasnā€™t made you re-evaluate your life a little? Itā€™s just been you two, locked away together at the end of the world, helping each other heal. Seeking comfort in one another. Youā€™ve got shared trauma. That kind of thing bonds you for life.ā€Ā 
ā€œLeave it alone,ā€ Steve said, standing as he spoke. The chair scraped on the tile floor. A nails on a chalkboard kind of sound.Ā 
Steve pushed past the older man, pulled the pot off the stove, and let a tense silence settle over the three of them. The subsequent dinner dragged on in uncomfortable silence. Steve and Eddie kept their eyes glued to their plates. Murray talked but neither paid attention. He gave Eddieā€™s wounds a once over, appearing as lost as Steve. He didnā€™t seem concerned, so Steve took it as a good thing.Ā 
He thought heā€™d known what tense silence between himself, and Eddie felt like, but heā€™d known nothing compared to the moment Murray left. His whole body was on edge. Eddie wouldnā€™t meet his eyes. They needed to talk, but neither wanted to be the first to cave.Ā 
ā€œI was thinking of turning in early,ā€ Steve spoke, not knowing what else to say.Ā 
ā€œYeah. Me too.ā€Ā 
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The boys lay side by side, but sleep didnā€™t come. Eddieā€™s body was wound tight as a tourniquet. This time, Steve was the one bleeding out.Ā 
He wanted to say something, but he didnā€™t know what. Maybe that he was sorry. Murray was right. Steve had known Eddie liked him and he hadnā€™t said anything because it wasnā€™t a problem he could throw himself in front of. Itā€™d be easier if he thought telling Eddie would end up with him getting hit. There were worse things.Ā 
Eddieā€™s feelings had become more apparent as their time together wore on, but on some level, Steve had known long before. When Eddie had leaned over into his space smelling of cigarette ash, dried earth and sweat and called Steve some god-awful pet name, heā€™d known. He also knew the feelings werenā€™t one-sided.Ā 
That revelation came later. Eddie had been fading in and out of consciousness. Steve had shaken him awake to redress his wounds when it happened. The boy awoke, shooting him a lopsided grin, gazing at Steve with his drowsy, doe eyes.
Heā€™d crooned,Ā ā€˜Good morning sunshineā€™. And that had been enough.Ā 
Steveā€™s heart had stuttered to a halt as it had all the times before when a pretty girl had called him a prettier name.Ā 
As much as Steve hated to admit it, Murray had been right about a lot of things. There was one thing Steve desperately wanted him to be wrong about.Ā 
He and Eddie were bonded because of what theyā€™d been through. Thatā€™s what the man had said. Shared trauma. Was that all they were?
Steve was back in the bathroom with Nancy, her white shirt, red. The whites of his eyes the moment she left, red.Ā 
He knew where shared trauma got him. Heā€™d try to bury it. To move past it. He wanted to be more than what was done to him. People would say he was running. He was bullshit.Ā 
How was he meant to sit with the kind of stuff he and Eddie had been through? How was he meant to fight it? Would Steve always look at Eddie and see his death? Would Eddie always look at Steve and feel like dying?Ā 
ā€œI wished Iā€™d met you later,ā€ Steve spoke to the dark room.Ā Eddieā€™s locked body loosened, and as it did, he started to shake. In a moment, heā€™d start to bleed too.Ā 
ā€œYou know, normally people say they wished theyā€™d met you sooner.ā€Ā 
ā€œI mean... I wish weā€™d met after everything with The Upside Down. That you hadnā€™t gotten dragged into it. I wish that weā€™d gotten to know each other the normal way,ā€ Steve explained. Eddie snorted.Ā 
ā€œCan you imagine me doing anything the normal way?ā€ He had a point.Ā 
Steve didnā€™t know how to say what he wanted to say. The silence was back, looming large as a lunar eclipse.Ā 
ā€œYou arenā€™t... weirded out by what he said? About me liking you?ā€ Eddieā€™s voice was small. The only time Steve heard Eddie whisper was when he was dying.Ā 
ā€œI think he also said something about me liking you back,ā€ Steve replied, glancing at Eddieā€™s profile only to find the man was already watching him. His face was contorted in confusion.Ā 
ā€œThen... whatā€™s the problem here, Stevie?ā€Ā 
Steve had never been good with his words.Ā 
ā€œWhat if weā€™ve ruined it?ā€ He tried. At seeing a frown cross Eddieā€™s face, he knew he hadnā€™t done a good enough job at explaining.Ā 
ā€œWith whatā€™s happened between me and you. You never wouldā€™ve looked at me twice if I hadnā€™t saved you, and what if thatā€™s all weā€™ve got? Shared trauma.ā€Ā 
Bullshit. What if all they had was bullshit? Eddie finally understood.
ā€œI donā€™t like you because you saved me, Steve. I like you because despite all the terrible shit you make me want to laugh.Ā  I love that youā€™re shit at dancing, but you do it anyway. Also, screw that guy yourĀ risotto is better than his. Youā€™re a good cook. Your stupid hair makes me want to slam my head in a car door and before you say anything, thatā€™s a compliment. You care so damn much about everyone.ā€ To Steveā€™s surprise, Eddieā€™s hand reached up to touch his cheek.Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t like you because weā€™ve been through bad shit together. I like you because you make me feel like one day, weā€™re going to get out on the other side of it, that things arenā€™t going to be like this forever,ā€ Eddie finished.
Steveā€™s heart was a cardinal, beating itself bloody against a windowpane.Ā 
ā€œCan I kiss you?ā€ Steve breathed. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous.Ā 
Eddieā€™s smile was a lightning strike, bright, beautiful and something theyā€™d shape gods after.Ā 
ā€œI thought youā€™d never ask.ā€Ā 
Eddieā€™s lips were warm.Ā 
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kenjakusbraincum Ā· 1 year ago
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Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifullyšŸ©· please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)šŸ˜­šŸ©·
Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3
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Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.
But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.
He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.
"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.
He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.
"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.
"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.
"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.
"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.
"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.
"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.
"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?
"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.
"Yes Master."
-
You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.
When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.
Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.
"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.
"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.
"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.
You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.
Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.
Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.
"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.
He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.
"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.
You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.
None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?
You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.
"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."
You bow to him and leave.
And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.
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dandelion-roots Ā· 24 days ago
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[ID: a series of drawings featuring Riz Gukgak from D20 Fantasy High. In the first, Pok holds Riz's shoulders in heaven as says, smiling, when you work until the dead of night, your friends know you do it because you love them. In the second, Riz is having a group hug with his party and the text reads, but is it really love that drives you, Riz Gukgak... In the next, a desperate, pleading Riz clutches the shoulder of an indifferent, faceless person and the text continues, ...or is it fear? In the fourth, Riz is younger and digging through crystals with bleeding hands; the text reads, what use are you when you can no longer dig. In the fifth, Kalina, shrouded in darkness with only her eyes glowing, reaches towards the camera with a smile; the text reads, when you're too scared to think. Sixth, Riz is filling out Fig and Kristen's papers under the light of a lamp, serious and tired; the text reads, when you're too tired to work. Seventh, Riz is lying in bed, eyes hidden behind hair, hand on his father's picture; the text reads, too sad to keep the mood up. Eighth, Baron stares into the camera; the text reads, too lonely, too insecure, too weird. Ninth, Baron is holding a defeated Riz by the throat; the text reads, to keep moving? Tenth, Riz is standing in the distance, holding his briefcase, and behind him is a football/soccer ball; the text reads, what use is a ball that can no longer roll? The last drawing just says none in brackets on a dark background. End ID]
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puppetmaster13u Ā· 9 months ago
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Prompt 266
Back on my Danny & Ras frienemies/rivals/maybe-lovers-nobody-can-tell-their-signals-are-very-mixed train.Ā 
See, Danny has gone through time a lot. Often. It comes with being Clockworkā€™s charge-son-thing and honestly he finds it fun. And several times heā€™s used this time travelling to get some training in. Enter Ras, stage left, also a teen at the time and also learning swordsmanship from the same person.Ā 
And theyā€¦ utterly despise each other. They would kill the other for an apple slice, if the other one would die! But also, only they can kill the other, as it is obviously their right!Ā 
And well, they keep running into each other. It has been a hundred years, surely the other would die by now? But of course their rival would live through utter spite. Probably to spite them specifically.Ā 
The amount of times they have ended up sparring- trying to kill each other or not- the moment they see the other is actually ridiculous. But time is also passing. Andā€¦ Danny understands, not having another to talk about things people are forgetting, or have already forgotten.Ā 
How they ended up actually talking without a murder attempt was a long story that included a demon, a dragon, a pair of fae, some bandits, and a lot of alcohol, but it happened. And then it happens again. And again, and now itā€™s just kind of normal to share a drink after their spars, talking about things that no longer exist, and things they miss.Ā 
Sure Danny can go back in time again, but he knows better than to do it willy nilly. Heā€™s matured, heā€™s been an adult for a hundred years now, he knows thereā€™s consequences for messing with time, even with Clockworkā€™s blessings.Ā 
The first time they got married was technically for an undercover assassination. Well, Ras was there to assassinate someone, Danny was there to grab an artifact that should Not be in the realm of the living. And they got divorced after, it was fine.Ā 
They just, also got married again when they met a few years later, for another job. Andā€¦ okay, so maybe they have gotten married over a dozen times now and only divorced like half of those times. Half of those were for the bit or while drunk!Ā 
And even if technically theyā€™re married or shared a bed, itā€™s not like they're exclusive! As Rasā€™ daughtersā€™ existences attest to (adopted in one case or not). They donā€™t exactly have a label for their relationship, despite others asking for one or trying to put a name to it themselves.Ā 
Now Danny knows Ras isnā€™t exactly a good dude, or at least on the side of ā€˜goodā€™ as heā€™s a literal assassin. But he also knows that good? Bad? Rather relative. He had gotten labeled as a villain when he was just trying to help all that time ago after all, and really who was he to tell someone else how to live their life?Ā 
Which brings him to now, where heā€™s run into his old frienemy-rival and his youngest daughter. Who has a braindead teenager and a small toddler. Which is fine, really- but also, Talia dear, why are you using a brain dead teenager to guard your three year old son?Ā 
ā€¦
Okay, Talia dear, Ras (Derogatory), why are you using your brain dead son and grandson to guard your younger son and grandson? Do you not have the Pits, which you were soo proud about Ras? Yes, he will spar with you, but for Realmsā€™ sake, heal, whatā€™s his name? Ah yes, go heal Jason and heā€™ll actually stick around for a few years, deal? Good.Ā 
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shimmershy Ā· 2 years ago
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Chara Week Day 5: Ghost
Every time I see that machine in the True Lab, I wonder if it could possibly be Chara's soul in there? Probably unlikely, but not impossible... It's interesting to think about what the implications of that would be.
A version with no text and then a version with just the machine, because I think it looks pretty cool and ominous alone as well.....
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starry-bi-sky Ā· 5 months ago
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more incorrect quotes for the stillborn danyal au - dpxdc
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Student: so like,, *gesturing to Plasmius* is he like,,, your dad or...?? Phantom: he would be if he wasn't such a BITCH Plasmius: excuse me Phantom: YOU HEARD ME
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Under the Bleachers: Danny and Dash smoking in solidarity Dash: Danny: Dash: do you have notes from Lancer's class today Danny: since when do I ever have notes from Lancer's class Danny: I can ask Tucker but only if you have notes from Abernathy's class Dash: deal
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Sam and Tucker: *making s'mores with Danny's lava hair* Danny, as Phantom: >:I Sam: you're just mad because you didn't think of it first Danny: yEAH
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Danny, freshly ghosted: .... Danny: well. at least i dont need to waste money on lighters anymore
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Tucker: with how long your hair gets we may just have to start calling you rapunzel Danny: don't you dare Sam: rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your lava hair Danny: NO
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Danny's hair tie breaks in the middle of a fight Danny: fuck Skulker: language child Danny, pushing lava bangs out of his face: fuck you! just for this im turning your suit into molten slag Skulker: waitholdonwecantALK--
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Danny: you know, by your logic Maddie is equally as guilty for abandoning you as Jack. She also never visited you while you were in the hospital. Vlad, had put his infatuation with Maddie aside but still kinda had feelings for her: Vlad: you're right Danny, not used to an adult agreeing with him: I-- huh, I am? Vlad: yes. If Dr. Walker had cared about me -- even if only as a friend, she would have tried to remain in contact with me. But she didn't. She is also as equally guilty for the accident that took your life too since she also failed to properly check over the portal for flaws and any improper wiring. Danny: wait- wait, i mean-- Vlad: this means only one thing Danny, bewildered: ??? Vlad, extinguishing all lingering feelings: I have to kill her too (somehow) Danny: nO.
#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dpxdc#dpxdc crossover#dpxdc au#dpxdc prompt#dpdc#stillborn? no still born au#stillborn danny#danyal al ghul au#danyal al ghul#flanderizing the vlad and danny dynamic just a littlešŸ•ŗ šŸ•ŗ šŸ•ŗ as a treat#parental vlad masters#my vlad masters could beat up your canon vlad masters#my vlad masters also wears a ribcage corset and is permanently cursed with BabyFaced 20 Year Oldness when he's plasmius#danny: hey so my foster mom also never talked to you when you were hospitalized tho | vlad: oh shit u right | danny: i am#vlad: she's also not blameless in your death either. | danny: uh oh | vlad (ultimately A Dad First): this means i have to kill her too#bc if phantom can be a permanent 14yo then plasmius is also a permanent college student and i think thats hilarious. he physically cannot#grow a goatee as plasmius. he can get all the facial hair he wants as vlad but not as a ghost. L to him. this only fuels his vendetta#SB Vlad: im gonna kill maddie | canon vlad: you WHAT#hc that maddie got her doctorate with her maiden name first and refuses to change it. jack and vlad both supported this decision in college#and still do. im taking Vlad's creepiness about maddie out back and shooting it in the kneecaps. boom gone now i can just make him Parental#vlad saw maddie try and shoot danny once and promptly did a 180 on his feelings.#vlad: ah well actually fuck you too now. you shot my kid | danny: NOT YOUR KID#i want everyone to know that i was listening to thunder bringer when i was making the vlad plasmius design and so that is now attributed to#him forever and ever. i curse him with the Zeus Boss Battle Theme Song
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phoenixcatch7 Ā· 5 months ago
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It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?
Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet šŸ¤­
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valeriianz Ā· 1 month ago
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Hiii @embroiderling here. For the way you said I love you, can I ask for 31? Or 27. Or 25 šŸ˜‚ all the options are so good šŸ’–
Thank youuuu
Helloooo! So nice to see you after so long! haha 31: In awe, the first time you realised it also, reincarnation au :D
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ā€œI love you.ā€
The stranger looks twice at Hob, a beautiful expression of bafflement making his eyes pop.
Hob blinks, the words coming back to him.
ā€œSorry,ā€ Hob laughs, breathless. He feels a flush growing up his neck. ā€œThat justā€“ came out of me. I donā€™tā€“ hereā€“ā€ Hob scrambles to get his feet flat on the ground and heft himself up halfway, extending a hand to the man heā€™d crashed intoā€¦ who looks achingly familiar.
The man, who Hob takes in properly now, hesitantly takes Hobā€™s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up from the ground, standing now on unsteady legs. They carefully walk out of the bike lane and onto the slightly congested sidewalk. Hob realizes he doesnā€™t have his scooter until his hand shoots out to catch the thin, gorgeous man, by the elbow as he wobbles a bit.
ā€œCareful.ā€ Hob offers a smile but it feels broken. ā€œYou okay?ā€
The man looks up from the point where they are touching, back to Hob, absolute shock and something like recognition glinting in his eyes.
Hobā€™s breath catches when he sees that the man is crying. Beautiful blue eyes shine and overflow down pale skin and strikingly sharp cheekbones.
ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€ Hobā€™s grip tightens slightly on the manā€™s arm while the other hovers between them.
ā€œI donā€™t knowā€¦ā€ The man finally speaks with a voice that sounds like heaven. His fingers shake as he wipes away the tears on his face. ā€œI just feel likeā€¦ā€
His low vibrato cracks as he looks back at Hob.
ā€œFeels like Iā€™ve been waiting an eternity to hear you say that.ā€
Hobā€™s jaw drops and his heart soars.
ā€œWhatā€™s your name?ā€
ā€œDream.ā€
Hob huffs out a disbelieving laugh.
ā€œItā€™sā€“ Itā€™s so crazy. I knew that.ā€ Hob laughs properly now at the smile that tugs up the corner of Dreamā€™s lips. ā€œDo you know me? Whatā€™s my name?ā€
Dreamā€™s brows pinch together as he seems to study Hob.
ā€œ... Hob.ā€
The smile that cracks through Dreamā€™s composure is enough to send pin pricks up Hobā€™s spine, tickling the back of his neck, not to mention how incredibly strange and yet familiar this all seems. Like heā€™d looked at those crystal blue eyes a hundred times, in a hundred different lifetimes, a hundred different emotions reflected in them.
Then Dream laughs. A bark of laughter that he immediately covers with his hand and finally, for the first time since Hob spoke to him, looking away, the tips of his ears turning pink.
ā€œWhatā€™s so funny?ā€ Hobā€™s smiling so wide he feels his eyes squint.
ā€œI donā€™t know!ā€ Dream nearly screeches, his visage morphing through something like the five stages of grief before smiling again.
ā€œButā€¦ā€ Dream manages to get himself under control, looking around at the people walking past them, the buildings towering over them, and back to Hob. ā€œItā€™s a very strange name.ā€
It feels like an excuse, or some explanation that at least makes sense.
ā€œI love your laugh,ā€ Hob blurts out, feeling more present, all the sudden.
Dream sighs, his body relaxing, like heā€™s committed to whatever is happeningā€¦ acquiescing to it.Ā 
ā€œI know you do.ā€
Hob grins. This is insane.
ā€œCan I take you to dinner?ā€
Dreamā€™s breath seems to catch, his eyes flicking up and down.
ā€œI feel like you owe me a lot more than dinner.ā€
Hob laughs again, emotion welling on inside his throat and making his own eyes begin to burn.
ā€œIā€™m going to make it up to you. God. What is happening right now?ā€
Dream merely shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and looking around them.
ā€œAre you free tonight? Eight oā€™clock?ā€
Hob nods, excitementā€“ like a child, rushes through his veins.
ā€œLetā€™s meet here,ā€ Dream points to the ground. ā€œ... again, if youā€™re serious.ā€
Hob nods again. ā€œIā€™ll be here.ā€
ā€œGood,ā€ Dream takes a long breath, his eyes seem to burn, instantly watching Hob. ā€œI will see you again.ā€
An unconscious grin splits across Hobā€™s face.
ā€œYou will.ā€
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chiropteracupola Ā· 2 months ago
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I destroyed a bond of friendship and respect / Between the only people left who'd even look me in the eye / Now I laugh and make a fortune / Off the same ones that I tortured / And a world screams, "Kiss me, Son of God!"
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xxrat--punkxx Ā· 1 year ago
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Repair day
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artbyfuji Ā· 1 year ago
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Rosebird Week Day 1: Red Thread of Fate
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starflungwaddledee Ā· 10 months ago
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so about the ship thing . . . Have you heard of a little guy called Sailor Dee? They showed up in Revenge of Meta Knight as part of Meta Knight's crew, and I think a couple other times in minigames and merch. I imagine he'd be braver than the average dee since he works for MK, so maybe they'd be able to power through the ick reaction like Bandee
hmmm... i think you might be onto something!
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might be about to give bandee a run for his money, perhaps. speaking of... here's a little bonus:
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heartdrop Ā· 2 months ago
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i like you more than soup šŸœ
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puppetmaster13u Ā· 1 year ago
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Prompt 100
ā€œWhat are you, a Kent?ā€Ā 
Itā€™s a saying in the world of the supernatural. A well-known one even. See, several, many generations back, no one quite knows when, the Kent family managed to run afoul of a particularly nasty creature who laid a curse upon them. The original wording, no one quite knows either, but the gist, everyone is aware of. For no firstborns will be born to them before they already have one.Ā 
It was supposed to be airtight in a way, a curse that would end the entire bloodline really. For a child to exist before they could have a child? How could that be?Ā 
Well. That curse hadā€¦ backfired. It had backfired massively. Most, at least back when blood was everything, didnā€™t exactly ponder things like adoption to those outside of their own bloodline. The Kents however, lived in a very simple village, one that had disease spread through it often back then, leaving families childless and children parentless.Ā 
What were they to do but take them in? And so they had a son, many sons and daughters even, before their firstborn. Now of course, most would simply dismiss it afterwards. After all, that was the end of the story, isnā€™t it?Ā 
Well, no. See, the curse was a family-line curse, a just in case perhaps, that meant that each generation could not have any children until they had children. Perhaps it should have ended there, but well. It didnā€™t.Ā 
Kents are a strange breed in the world of the supernatural, known for having aā€¦ bit of an adoption problem. If any child or babe were to be left near their land, one can be assured the family line would take them in as their own.Ā 
Fae, demon, human, changeling, satyr, cyclops, half-breeds, werewolf- it didnā€™t matter. A Kent would gladly pick the child up and raise it as their own. And now, they could add aliens to that long, long list in the family line.Ā 
And really, perhaps with this context, is it really surprising that when one Clark Kent, said alien, opens his door to a basket on his doorstep holding a trio of godlings, he takes them in with no questions asked?Ā 
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veinsfullofstars Ā· 2 months ago
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šŸ· Kirbtober 2024 Day 22: Ship or Hangout šŸ·
(ID: Kirby series fanart of Daroach and Dark Meta Knight overindulging on ā€œfancy grape juiceā€ together, their faces brightly flushed from the several bottles standing empty around them. The thief sits with a glass held loosely in one paw, laughing and resting the other paw on the unmasked knightā€™s head as he lays sprawled over Daroachā€™s torso, disgruntled but not particularly inclined to move, his wing lazily draped over them both. END ID.)
ā€œHa! Who's the *hic* lightweight now, sunshine?ā€
ā€œMmrrghshuddup. Smartass rat with your stupid pretty mouth stupid mmghngh..."
Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)
Started on 10/02/24, finished on 10/03/24. | Kirbtober 2023 Comp
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corviiids Ā· 2 months ago
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for the word prompt: hanahaki, with lawlight
The first petal emerges with so little ceremony that nobody notices it except L. On screen the Yagami boy says, "Quite frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if Kira sees right through this."
The pink petal unfurls quietly in his hand.
L says, "Your son is clever, isn't he?"
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The flowers come out wet. It's an ungraceful affair, but at least they're small.
When they're whole, the petals coil around in neat spirals. Sometimes they're buds, but usually they're just individual petals. There's a strength of emotion in what L feels, but yearning feels as much the wrong description as unrequited.
The flowers don't hurt, and after a while, they stop altogether.
On screen, Light Yagami blinks. He looks tired.
"Ryuzaki," he says. "What's it going to take for you to believe that I'm not Kira?"
Without turning the microphone on, L coughs once and expels nothing but air. Light stares beseechingly up at the camera for another long moment before he slumps.
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L's throat stays clear until Higuchi seizes and collapses in the Chief's arms. Then, it isn't a petal at all. Light's shoulders are still heaving when L starts to cough. By the time he's spat up the irritant--one single yellow stamen--into his palm, Light's eyes are fixed blankly on the middle distance.
"Ryuzaki," he says quietly. Calmly, coolly, like he wasn't screaming himself hoarse only a second ago. "I want to check this out."
L coughs again.
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The last petal emerges later, but it disappears into Light's palm, and L doesn't know anything after that.
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(send me a one word prompt)
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