#... Nonsensical And Gay ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

little-annie · 9 months ago

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Bet you didn't know how Eddie found out Steve was Bi.

It was at a club in Indianapolis of all places. He and Steve, along with Robin and Vicki, had made their way to the city for a weekend of fun.

And some recognizance apparently.

Steve was convinced Vicki was into boobies, and at some point had made it his mission to prove such information to Robin. His location of choice? One of the biggest gay clubs in Indiana.

How Steve knew of the place made no sense to Eddie. Well at least not right away. Now though, now he knew Steve was…

Steve was:

A little fruity.

A friend of Dorothy.

A real cocksucker.

Steve Harrington was all of the above apparently.

To Eddie's utter bafflement.

And outstanding joy.

But sitting at the bar with the man in question by his side, Eddie hadn't known that yet. He was helplessly pining over a friend he thought he'd never have the faintest of a chance with. Watching from the side lines, imagining himself as the hot brunette in Steve's strong arms when the man would occasionally make his way to the dance floor.

They were having a good time. They were drinking, the girls were dancing like a couple of dorks out beneath the shining lights. Everything was going great.

But Eddie could still see from even across the dance floor the longing look in Robin's eyes as she watched Vicki do the sprinkler of all dance moves.

They really were perfect for each other.

“How's mission besties to boobies going? You think you'll have Robbie sucking on a tit by the end of the night?”

Sitting on the bar stool next to him, Steve snorts into his drink, choking on a laugh as he turns to admonish Eddie, “Jesus man.” He coughs around the fruity drink clogging his throat. “Robin would punch you in the jugular if she heard you say that.”

Eddie smiles to himself, just happy that he made Steve laugh. “Well good thing she's out there with Vicki then. Really though, any closer to helping them figure their shit out?”

Just as Steve's about to answer, both of their eyes watching the girls, they watch as some tall blonde jock approaches Vicki.

In the same instant they catch Robin's expression crumble.

“Mother fucker.” Steve huffs before he turns back to the bar and orders Robin's favourite drink. A Blue Hawaiin topped with more fruit than Eddie's eaten in the last year. Bright and flashy, decorated with a tiny purple umbrella.

Robin joins them not a minute later, sweat damp hair sticking to her forehead as she sighs sadly and falls face first with a groan into Steve's chest.

Eddie would be jealous if he didn't feel so bad for Robin.

The poor girl is nearly at her wits end.

For months her and Vicki have been going through a will they won't they type of thing.

Christ, they even kissed at one of Steve's little parties. Under the guise of spin the bottle, but it still happened and lasted way too long for Vicki to not have enjoyed it.

But then the next day, Eddie remembers Vicki talking about Dan. Her on - off boyfriend who apparently, judging by Steve's seething and Robin's near blubbering is the guy with his arms around a very annoyed looking Vicki's shoulders.

Robin's pulled herself from between Steve's beautiful beasts and is now leaning against the man, standing between his legs as he hugs her and she solemnly nibbles at her skewered fruit with her chin hooked over Steve's shoulder.

He's saying something to her that Eddie doesn't catch, but he notices how it makes Robin smile.

Albeit a little sadly.

Turning his attention away, Eddie takes a sip of his drink, stares daggers into Dan's soul on Robin's behalf and lets the Wonder Twins have their moment.

Amidst wishing Dan to drop dead, through the blaring music Eddie eventually hears Steve's determined tone.

“I'll do it, Rob.”

Curious, Eddie tunes in.

“You're not doing anything.”

“Mmmmh nope. I'm gonna do it.” Eddie nearly hears Steve's nod of resolution as he keeps his eyes on the gyrating crowd before them. He sounds determined. Surly staring his own form of ill will into Dan's soul, Steve continues, “He keeps dragging her on, which means she's dragging you on. And I can't let that happen.”

Robin sighs, “Steve.”

“Robin.”

Eddie can damn well hear them staring one another down.

It's rather loud.

As is the blatant telepathic convention they're having now.

After a moment of lord only knows what they've communicated to each other through a series of complicated facial expressions, Robin sighs again, apparently having accepted defeat, “You're a bitch.”

“You love me.”

“I hope you get Crabs.”

Eddie snorts to himself as he finally turns to take in the two next to him. Robin's now occupying Steve's previous bar stool and Mr. Great Tits and Tight Levi's himself is standing with the bitchiest expression known to man, staring Robin down, who sips her drink and appears unfazed.

And then Steve smirks.

“I literally watched you shave your chin hair with the razor I use on my balls. If I get Crabs you're coming down with me.”

Robin hardly looks bothered as she bites a hunk of pineapple from her skewer, seeming in a much better mood than when she'd arrived.

“You whore. Course you shave your balls.” She mumbles around the fruit in her mouth.

“Not everyone likes to have a jungle bush, Robin.”

Their continued nattering is lost to Eddie as he remains hung up on the idea of Steve's balls. Are they clean shaved, trimmed, artfully maintained?

He's pathetic. Eddie's well aware. Daydreaming of Steve's Adonis like body isn't new in the slightest.

He apparently wonders for so long that when he tunes back to reality, Steve and his decidedly trimmed balls are gone.

He looks to Robin who downing the remainder of her drink.

She shrugs, as if that explains anything.

Then he sees Steve at the other end of the bar talking to Vicki's maybe boyfriend.

It looks heated.

God, is Steve going to fight this guy? Fuck. Eddie's scrappy but he's never had a great track record with Jocks and he knows Steve and all of his monster fighting abilities means nothing when it comes to fighting people. He remembers the guy getting his ass handed to him by Byers. And Hargrove. Like he gets Billy, the guy was fucking insane. But Johnathan? Steve doesn't stand a chance against this guy. He's got at least twenty pounds on Steve.

Steve's going to get his ass kicked and Eddie's not going to be any help. Sure he'll try, throw a punch, maybe play dirty and move his rings over to his other hand so it hurts more, but otherwise he's got nothing.

All bark, no bite.

Fuck, what if the guy has friends here?

Eddie looks back to Robin who's now leaning back against the bar, watching as Vicki dances in the distance, giggling to herself as she waves at Robin then proceeds to do that shopping cart.

The sweet, ginger haired little dork.

Again, their perfect for each other.

“Steve's not really going to fight that guy is he?”

Robin snorts.

“Yeah, with his dick maybe.”

What?

“What?”

Robin waves him off with a limp wrist and plunks her empty glass onto the bar top behind her with a dull thud.

And then she's off.

Leaving Eddie with that tidbit of information.

She was joking, right? Right?

She had to be joking.

“Robin?!”

His voice is either lost to the music or she's ignoring him.

Probably the latter.

By the time Eddie turns his attention back to the end of the bar, he catches Steve giving Dan a playful tug to the belt loops and an expression Eddie can only describe as a smoulder.

Then Steve's pulling this guy by the hand to the men's bathroom.

What the fuck did he miss?

Jesus H Christ.

—

Twenty minutes and one tequila shot later, Eddie watches as Dan goes scurrying by from the bathroom to the exit, still tucking his fucking polo into his pants.

Lucky bastard.

A moment later, Steve returns.

Hair messy, pupils blown, shirt untucked and …

No.

It's that?

There's a small dot of milky white on Steve's chin.

Fucking hell.

Steve plops down in his chair, steals Eddie's beer and downs the remaining half, finishing it with a content sigh.

For the longest time Eddie's speechless.

Staring at Steve and the fucking splatter of come left on his chin.

What the actual fuck?

“What?”

Steve must've noticed.

Christ and it's not like Eddie can let the guy go walking around with that.

“You've got, uh, something on your chin…”

And like he knew it was there, knew exactly where it was, Steve wipes the evidence of his earlier rendezvous away.

Eddie can't help but continue to stare.

And like an idiot he decides to open his mouth. “Did you just…?”

And like it's nothing, Steve answers.

“Suck off Vicki's ex then threaten him with bodily harm if he ever bothers her or Robin again? Yeah. And?”

And?

And?!

Since when did Steve suck dick?!

Eddie's careening towards a level two gay fucking melt down when Steve decides to continue, sounding every bit offended and confused. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“No!” Eddie answers immediately, hands up in defence. Steve's expression softens just a touch. “No. No, fuck, Steve. No, not at all. It's just-” well he didn't know and he and Steve are good enough friends Eddie figured something that important to Steve's person, he'd know. “I just didn't know.”

Steve's nose scrunches in that cute way that always makes Eddie feel like dropping dead, and then almost sounding like he's surprised, Steve laughs, “You- hah- Eddie! You didn't know!?”

“No!”

“No wonder,” Steve more so says to himself before ordering both him and Eddie another drink.

He doesn't continue until he's had a sip of whatever fruity monstrosity he's drinking now. “I've been flirting with you for months, Ed.”

“Yeah well I thought you were straight.” Eddie grumbles, feeling like a fucking idiot. Had Steve really been flirting with him? Had all of the lingering touches and seemingly longing stares all been intentional.

Jesus. Fucking. Fuck.

Steve had asked him if he wanted to fool around a couple weeks ago and Eddie thought he was joking.

Shit.

“What?” Steve says, halfass sounding offended, “Like it would have made a difference. Dude you've made it obvious you're not interested.”

“I- what?”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah. No hard feelings man. I get it. I'm not your type.”

“Not- not my type!? Steve! My beautiful beautiful boy, I am so interested. I'm painfully interested. I'm so interested I jack off to the idea every night, interested.”

He's just going to ignore the fact he said that aloud.

It's worth it for the blush that rises to Steve's cheeks anyways. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“So you wanna?”

“Absolutely annihilate each other in the men's bathroom?” Eddie asks confidently, truly hyping himself up so he doesn't freak out, downing his drink and standing to offer Steve his hand, “ Yes please.”

But not taking his hand and running to the bathroom to hopefully suck each other off, Steve stays sitting, staring at Eddie's offered hand. And just when Eddie starts to think he's fucked this all up before it's even started, Steve stutters his response

“ I- well- I was thinking more like a- a movie and milkshakes, or something?”

Oh.

Oh this isn't just sex to Steve.

Thank God.

Eddie wasn't entirely sure how his heart would have handled the alternative.

Did Steve Harrington just ask him on a date?

“Yeah.” Eddie answers, a little breathless, a little bashful.

“We can do your thing to if this is just-”

“No. No, Steve. It's really not. I feel like a fucking schoolgirl, man. All giddy and shit. I just never thought-”

“You're kinda hard not to want Eddie.” Steve interrupts him.

And isn't that a fucking line.

Maybe…

“Both?” Eddie asks, only for Steve to raise a brow

“What about both?”

“Oh!” Steve shouts, catching the attention of a few people, one of which being Robin who was wandering hand in hand with Vicki to the bar, “Yeah. Fuck yeah.” He downs his drink just as Eddie had and finally takes Eddie's offered hand.

On their near sprint to the men's bathroom, Eddie's sure, through the buzz of his own brain and the blare of music he hears Robin's raspy voice shout, “Enjoy my besties bald balls, Munson!”

---

Give my tittle ideas babes. I wanna post this insanity on Ao3.

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m1d-45 · 4 months ago

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the pain of rapture

summary: there is no excuse for weakness in an archon. only explanations; no matter how impossible to find.

word count: ~3k

-> warnings: major spoilers for liyue archon quest . duh . unedited . also duh

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

there was no underestimating the time that zhongli had waited for this day. it was every archon’s desire to fulfill their duty, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel as if his wait was all the more painful than theirs.

every archon—no, every person had, at some point or another, strayed from their ideals. whether inconsequential white lies or betrayal of that which they loved, no soul was pure. nobody ended up exactly as they intended to be, in exactly the life they meant to live, with exactly the views they had longed for as a child. it was simply impossible; the world was too unpredictable, forcing one through trial after trial to pull gem from slag and discover what color crystal lay within one’s veins. despite these unremarkable paths, it was equally everyone’s nature to seek out a reason that they were unlike everyone else. billions of unique voices joined an endless choir of individuality, cutting into the same earth for a place within it, blind to their actions being pushed along by the mob around them.

and perhaps, due to his position as archon, he had thought himself better. perhaps he, like everyone else, had thought that he was nothing like anyone at all. while he could never return to who he was before the archon war, his memory was not as easily washed away as time, and he had had millennia to reflect.

was it his own mind that decided to rewrite his history? actions were undeniable, but nobody but him could attest to his motivations. was he judging himself through the wrong eyes, and in the process blinding himself to the truth? or had he willingly turned away from what he already knew? even from an outsider’s view, he was a stark contrast to the morax he was. should it not follow that he has also changed internally? that the rough, raw ore of his pain had softened and smoothed? ah, but to argue that would be to admit that he was once a jewel that hurt to hold. what gem did not want to be admired?

there was a lot that has changed in his life. it should not be so shameful to acknowledge that he, too, had changed. stones in rivers did no good to travelers when jagged and unsteady. he had learned. he was not so foolish as to think he was incapable of learning. there were many things he did not know then, and still things he did not know now. what did it matter that “humility” was missing from the first list and “pride” from the second? circumstances had changed, and he had changed with them. there was no shame in adaptation.

(if put back in the thick of war, would he become who he was then? would he revert back to the mindset of selfishness and wrath that had kept him alive? was that really what had enabled his survival at all, or was it just his claws?)

the moon was not the only witness to these debates, but it was the most frequent. during the day, he could busy himself with work and walks and idle discussions with whomever he pleased. it was only at night, when the port had settled but his mind had not, that he was without reason to avoid such musings. the air was warm and yet he kept his hands close around his teacup, feeling the corners settle into the indents of his knuckles like there was never a time he didn’t spend his evenings like this. there was nobody around to fool.

sleep never came easy to him, in any of his iterations. morax had too much to do, plans to pore over, reports in one hand and a sharpening stone in the other. rex lapis got the closest, spending time not tending to his people quietly meditating, listening to the prayers brought through the stone beneath his hands. even now, if he pressed his hand flat against the earth and searched, he could still find the last vestiges of these pleas. he never listened for long, though.

despite shedding as much of his skin as possible, sleep did not come easily for zhongli. he could lay and wait until his muscles itched for any sort of attention, but his mind never slipped away. if work was particularly stressful and he had neglected this routine the night prior, he could perhaps slip into a fitful doze, but it was always easily interrupted. birds on his windowsill did not make him reach for a blade as they once would have, but they did once again bring his mind back into consciousness, identifying its call and guessing the time as if his internal clock ever wavered. he had long since come to peace with this—it made sense his transition into humanity would not be seamless—but it had become more troublesome recently.

if anyone asked, not that they would, he would simply say that lantern rite was coming up soon. with vendors focused on the event, it would be harder to fetch the supplies necessary for the parlor, and as a consultant his job was to be able to provide options for his customers. if florists were out of silk flowers until next week, or there were no dried birch available, then it fell to him to inform the client. those in mourning were already unconsolable, and he saw no reason this excuse would not work. the handful of times he’d had to use it, when he was new to the parlor and they hadn’t gotten used to his personality yet, it had worked fine.

it was good that nobody knew who he truly was. he had long since grown used to the desperate cries of his people, and heard enough of their disputes and conversations to know which words helped and which did not. his excuse was just that; an excuse.

zhongli did not have a birthday. not just as a date of the start of this identity—though that itself had taken several years of pondering, each of which could have been equally considered a “day of birth” in that sense—but as an absolute date. aside from the fact that the modern calendar had simply not existed back then, there was no date in his memory that was truly his birthday. consciousness was a hazy thing, and he’d never had a need to decide which of the days of his blurry existence constituted a “birthday.” however, humans placed importance on them, and so he did as well. like everything else about his new persona, he had chosen it, placing it at the end of the calendar year for no particular reason other than it feeling right. no day stood out to him enough to be “his,” and all carried some level of importance. he had experienced thousands of each day, and it wouldn’t be right to decide which stack of events was more or less “meaningful,” so he didn’t. the last day of the year, perhaps somewhat symbolic of his retirement.

before that day, he hadn’t given much thought to the passing of time. he was aware of it, certainly, but it had never weighed on his mind as it did. dedicating himself to human ideals meant noticing and appreciating when the year ended and another began, looking out over the city from ground level.

it also meant that when he looked up, he recognized the stars held within the night’s tapestry.

lapis dei. the stone of god. it hadn’t appeared until several years into his place among liyue’s harbor, and only a few months before his planned failure during the right of decension. his vision was glass, and yet it weighed heavy as jade against his back that night, the name settling against his heart like a snake around a sun-warm stone.

it was not that night that he sought. as your traveller had roamed the world, it was to be expected that you may have your pick of companions, and it made sense than an archon (however retired) would be among them. no, the day that had just closed, that left him with now cold tea, was not something as simple as a rearrangement of false stars.

it was that a special set of six had flowed brighter. it was that, before he could blink, he had been pulled into the sky. his teapot was in front of him one moment, and the. it was gone the next, replaced by sprawling clouds and a voice he’d never heard. all the same, you were familiar, a memory he did not hold but could still feel the shape of.

he had waited for years to feel this light. to be held in a sea of stars and to be something of desire, something the one who had all wanted. it was, in his mind, a final act of defiance against celestia, and a firm bind of his loyalty despite the distance between him and you.

(he asked, at first, for a contract to prove it, but you had just laughed. it made sense. he still wondered if you were laughing at the impossibility of the idea of you being limited by mortal paper or laughing at him for suggesting it.)

those years, however, were spent doing just that: waiting. sure, he busied himself with the harbor and considered himself as doing a rather good job as blending in with the people around him, but he was not a fool. to be worth someone’s time was to have something to offer.

equally, he was not some unsteady, sobbing servant. he did not win his seat in celestia through pacifism. he did not sprout stone forests without power within his hands. he felt nothing but pride as a new polearm was placed into his hands, hefting its weight. the stars faded and he was left in unfamiliar territory, led to a group of enemies that snatched up their weapons the moment he got close.

for good reason, he’d thought, leaning into your touch as you guided his hands to pull a stele from the earth. pure geo wrapped around his shoulders—a skill he hadn’t needed to use for several decades now; he’d have to brush up once you were done with him. that was secondary, though, to the planet befall collecting over his shoulder. already, undead habits rose to the surface of his mind, preparing for the dust to settle and his spear to once again seek blood.

but his opponents were not left frail and weak by his show of skill. within seconds, they shed the stone he’d built around them, looking little more than annoyed.

why?

his spear glanced off their armor without so much as a scratch, despite the force with which he swung it. you pulled him in and out of range of their swords, far too dodgy to be handling an archon.

why did it seem like he wasn’t doing a thing? why, when a crossbow bolt clipped his shoulder, did it feel like the shot had passed through his chest instead? you clicked your tongue like a parent who’s child had done something they weren’t supposed to and he was back in the skyless sea, watching distantly as unfamiliar vision wielders took his place with well-worn precision. he was barely bleeding, the shift of his coat over the scratch shouldn’t feel like he was dying, and his spear should not have been so blunt. he drew it again, testing the edge with a finger, and it caught the fibers of his gloves with ease. he could feel the steel itself hum under his touch, a fine, razor point despite the repeated reflections.

it was only then that zhongli had begun to worry.

he’d heard countless stories from both near and far about the feats of strength normal people could wield when under your blessing. why was he not affected by it? why did it feel instead like all of his strength had been sapped from him, leaving him unable to even nick a bandit’s skin? had he made a mistake somewhere?

what would you think? an archon made helpless. offering you his strength was one of the pitiful few ways left he could help within the bounds of his contract with celestia, and now it was gone.

or had you noticed how he had faltered? how he had slipped from being zhongli for a moment, and decided to punish him for it? would this state last beyond your influence? no, you weren’t so cruel as to leave him helpless for one mistake. and yet, his mind fell to late nights, wondering if his worries had crossed time and space to reach your ears.

it was a plain truth in zhongli’s mind that the only thing he had left to offer you was his strength. he had no stories you had not heard, no wisdom you did not already know, no information left for him to speak. was this a lesson of some sort? but why not tell him directly? your voice had cooed in his ear as a war plume was tucked into his lapel, talking about domains and rolls he didn’t understand, but could hear as clear as jade.

and yet. you led him on a few more walks through valleys and plains, the few interactions with enemies either sprinted away from or leaving him tucked on a shelf while your better equipped followers attended to the problem. when it was over, his house felt too oppressive, the pot barely moved off the stove before he pushed open the door and took to the earthen path.

it was the lantern rite, he lied, his vision heavy against his spine. it pressed against his lower back and swayed when he walked, like the guiding hand of one treading alongside him, except the streets were empty and he had little to blame but himself.

did you know it was his birthday? did you blame him for having one?

did you know that that single day with you had only pushed sleep further away from his grasp? did you know that he could not change the past, no matter how hard he tried? if he’d not signed that contract with celestia then he would not have been here to witness your golden messenger. was he not meant to?

why not tell him? or had you already? had he missed something, somehow? when? was it during the war, when his memories were still colored by his selfishness? what lesson was he supposed to learn from helplessness?

was this some indication that you preferred him as a human, without the earth-shaking power he had held with his gnosis? but why lower him to the strength of an insect? he didn’t know.

zhongli was not insecure. he was proud of his new life and had not been given any reason to doubt that self assurance. even now, he did not regret it, only… wondered. wondered, and thought, and pondered, and mused, and ruminated, and reviewed, and every other verb one could apply to the deep, unsettling feeling that he had made missed something somewhere, and the rapidly growing need to find it.

#aka. happy birthday old man <3 #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin x reader #gender neutral reader #zhongli #sagau zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #but like. to me #sagau x reader #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #new year same bullshit sorry guys. i love putting this man through it for no reason #if this is nonsense rambling it’s because i’m gay stupid and tired. hope this helps <3

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