#also damn this got away from me

[sierra6x]

------@stingslikeabee gifted:

Valentine's Day was an odd one at the Killer Queen - one of the few occasions where Melissa closed up earlier, and not because she had any plans - but because her employees did. The barmaid wasn't keen on keeping people around when there was no need, so she let all the girls go home during the afternoon, as well as the other people who worked there.

Six lingered behind - as he often did; the empty bar was more of a home to him than a full house, and she didn't mind his silent company while she went through the motions. Melissa was about to turn off the kitchen lights when she saw something on the counter there: a bowl of strawberries, chocolate and a folded note from Charlie (who was working out stuff with his ex-wife) that read 'to my idiot boss and her favorite idiot'.

Melissa laughed then - if it had been anyone else, the woman would have likely ignored the tease, but her cook actually predated her management era. He was some sort of an older brotherly figure, who had been fond of Borys and stayed after she took over. He looked after the barmaid, and likely watched everything from behind the scenes - as much as the tipster tried to deny, she had favorites.

Or rather - a favorite.

Picking up both things, Melissa paused by the bar to grab a bottle of champagne, too - it had been there for ages, not a drink any of the patrons really asked for, but now she was doing the entire thing. The brunette returned to the main room and placed the celebratory items on the pool table, interrupting the solitary game Six was enjoying by himself and offering him a grin as explanation, motioning for him to get closer.

"We're both idiots according to Charlie - it's a gift from him. I suppose he's sad we're both lonely today when he's seeing his ex-wife," Melissa chuckled and made herself comfortable on the edge of the table, proceeding to pick one of the strawberries to dip into the chocolate and inviting Six to stand in-between her legs, offering the delicacy to him with a teasing grin, "Happy Valentine's Day, Six. You are my favorite idiot, you know - Charlie's right."

------HUMANS WERE SILLY little creatures of habit. it was easier to map something into the neurons by doing it repeatedly - a sense of comfort was established, stroked the mind in a way that sent ease into an otherwise shot system. six's system was pretty fucking fried. he'd heard the rumors that sierra agents usually burnt out and he could understand it. in some fashion he'd followed in their steps. turned his back on the program, on the cia, on the people that pointed their fingers and commanded someone die.

it was pretty nice to have bodily autonomy.

there were a lot of people all over the world he got information from. some he'd never met face-to-face ... always through dead drops or coded phone calls. sometimes he had short chats in public places where both parties wore sunglasses and did their best to forget any detail about the other (but secretly remembered everything just in case.) killer queen's was the only place that six kept coming back to. the only place where he struck a rapport with the fixer. the only place he had some shred of familiarity.

he'd liked borys well enough. the man was professional in his own sort of way and never grated against six's nerves. he was one of the people that stuck by when hands switched to melissa and struck some sort of chord there, too. enough that he came in his off-time, when he was stateside. not that he would ever admit those things.

too often he played pool by himself. sometimes another person balled-up and played him, but he was more than content with just games on his own. it was easier for him to keep track of what was going on around him. while regulars and visitors alike knew this was a sanctuary that didn't necessarily mean they abided those rules. occasionally six saw swift justice enacted against those that dare break them. once or twice he'd done it himself. but here he played a game alone on a table he'd moved to and fro more times than he wanted to admit. that meant he earned the right to play the fucking game alone.

he didn't even remember it was a holiday. (and when did a holiday count when it was literally bankrolled by a corporation??) it was just another tuesday night. here six sipped on ice cold water and knocked those little colored balls around while listening to people talk and schmooze, watching the girls bustle around like little bees and charlie whistle in the kitchen so loud that he heard it over the jukebox. sometimes when the song was loud enough people sang along to it like bad karaoke and six enjoyed those moments, privately, because he could just blend in without anyone remembering he was there.

but earlier than most nights the patrons slipped out. then the girls clocked out and scurried home. then charlie fucked off to wherever it was that old, nosy cooks went when they weren't occupying the kitchen. and six lingered, shooting pool while melissa closed things up. because he'd wordlessly walk her home every time he was around, just to be sure she was alright.

sierra six did not do those things willy nilly.

and when melissa wandered over with the champagne and strawberries in tow he already had an eye on her. the game she interrupted had been already paused, evident by how six leaned against the pool table with such a lax posture that deceived how attentive he actually was that it might be cause for balking. " champagne from him, too? "

one brow raised. amusement defined six's features in a subtle sort of way. he knew melissa would pick up on it.

" that's why i'm unmarried. " not the job. not the lack of social life. not the fact that he was owned by the government up until a few years ago. because of whatever song and dance charlie played with his ex wife. (buy that and he'll sell you another). without asking and without waiting to be told he set his pool cue down and reached for the champagne in question. turned out his various tactical skills applied well to popping corks, and the telltale THWUMP gave way to his success.

what would really make him an idiot was if he ignored her wordless invitation. well, mostly wordless. and for a moment he watched her posture, the expression on her face, the curve of her lips ... before he moved to where she'd intended.

he towered over her, even when she perched on the raised edge of the pool table. he didn't blink, either. just canted his head, leaned slightly forward (pushing into personal space well-beyond the definitions of comfortable friendship) and set the bottle down somewhere behind her. " yeah? " how many other idiots did she have? surely just the one.

the question hung for a moment before he bit at the strawberry, snatching it from melissa's fingers with his teeth and pulled back slightly ---not away, before claiming the berry with his own fingers. he bit into it proper, separated most of it from the green top, and chewed.

not once did he look away from her, either. direct eye contact throughout.

" you, too. " happy valentine's day. he reached for a berry on his own, skipped it entirely and opted to dip his middle finger in the chocolate instead, and offered it between he and melissa. in a dare.

even his grin emphasized it.

[fuupan]

drew these for heart pirates day and uhhhh ep1115

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Parentalbond Horror

*grinning* I am baaaaaaaack!! @spotaus get over here :D

So. I had the difficult choice on which drabble i wanted to write so For now I settled on this one because I haven't had the chance to write a drabble with Horror's pov since a while and that is a crime.

First Drabble here Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

As always we go in unbeta'ed and unedited.

*-----------------*

Horror checks the windows again before turning back to the couch and seeing Nightmare just staring at him.

Horror tils his skull "sleep will be easier if you actually lay down...." And he looks pointedly at the couch.

Nightmare gains that stubborn glint in his sockets again as he huffs "I am fine. Not tired at all." he looks at the pile of bags in the corner of the room wishfully.

Horror has to keep his chuckling inside as he answers "Shame then that it is bedtime for young skeletons." And adult skeletons. Horror glances at the other three. All KO on the other couch, all still dressed in their normal clothes and none of them actually finished their meals.

Horror will have to pack up the leftovers. Make sure nothing goes to waste. But he will let them sleep for now and just make them eat a big breakfast. But all three had been running themselves ragged lately. Especially after the last encounter they had had with the Stars.

It meant they have been making more jumps and teleports and not going out as much to collect things to make it easier for them.

Horror walks over to them and puts one of the blankets in this apartment over them, he doesn't bother to try and pull them away from one another. The four of them always had the habit of sleeping in a pile and that habit only got worse once they started searching for Nightmare and reclaimed him.

Horror checks Ngihtmare's plate and smiles "You finished it all today." No wonder he is grumpier and more active than usual.

Nightmare pulls a face and crosses his arms. Horror walks over and nudges him at his shoudler "Sleep time." and he waits.

Nightmare grumbles more as he pushes the blankets and pillows around. Horror just crosses his arms as he waits. Nightmare huffs but lays his skull down on the pillow and glares at him.

Horror knows he is grinning but he is proud to say he doesn't actually snort or laugh at the grumpy face Nightmare is pulling. instead he moves closer slowly, the first week of watching Nightmare flinch at every movement and sound had been horrible, and puts the blanket over him as well.

Nightmare doesnt complain about it. Most likely becuase he just saw Horror do the same for the other three.

Horror nods and sits by him "Time to sleep." it is his turn to keep watch and he plans on taking ti seriously.

Nightmare huffs but just turns his face further into the pillow. Tiny body starting to relax with the simple comforts.

Horror tries to not be obvious as he keeps an eye on Nightmare.

Horror knows of course what is going on and he is trying to not give in. At least one of them should not give into the adopting.

Horror can admit he had been surprised that Dust was the first one to actually soul adopt Nightmare. Especially after only a week. It had been so fast and the transition between the before and after state had been so smoothly that Horror had honestly thought that Dust had done it on purpose and planned.

It would have made sense. Dust had been the one to find the book first and been the one to actually manage to get Nightmare back to them.

Only for it to become obvious that Dust had no idea what he had just done.

Soul adoption is a rather normal thing for monsters to do. Though in most universes they rarely happened as monsters don't tend to abandon children.

But well, Horror's AU had been one with starvation and a lot of fighting. People lost their lives in multiple ways. That meant quite a few orphans.

Soul adoption happened when an adult monster willingly took the role as caretaker for a younger monster who doesn't have a caretaker. There are a few more factors obviously but Horror doesn't know all of them of the top of his skull, especially not now with that hole in it.

What it comes down to? Nightmare is an orphan and has no one he could go to that could take care of them, and all of them know this. Dust found out first and surprisingly his soul was open enough to the idea to accept Nightmare as... well... his.

There are more hurdles in this situation of course. The fact that they Nightmare they knew was an adult, which is what Horror thinks is tripping up Cross. But Dust had been very quick with accepting that Nightmare is now a child and so immediantly treated him as one.

Killer took a bit longer but quickly fell into step as well. Calling Nightmare tiny boss and going from his right-hand-man to his babysitter, Killer's words not Horror's.

Horror is however a bit surprised that Killer also soul adopted Nightmare. In theory it shouldn't have happened as Nightmare at this time already had Dust as his caretaker and so technically didn't need one anymore.

Seems like Killer's soul didn't agree with that.

Horror can't say a lot about it though, seeing as he can feel it happening with himself as well. And he has no doubt that Cross is very close to giving into his own instincts and feelings concerning this as well.

The whole thing with their last interaction with the Stars is a very big give away. Even if Cross felt very embarresed by his own reaction.

At least Nightmare is no truly convinced that they won't harm him and will help him. Horror is happy they managed to get there and with it having only been a month since they took him with them. Horror can say they did a good job.

Nightmare has falled asleep.

Horror move slowly and silently and puts two fingers to the the side of his small belly and feels.

Horror may not have a lot of magic himself but his AU was left him with a very useful skill. Wiht how little food there was available and how little magic there was there came issues. One of the issues was that after a while the magic monsters had wasn't strong enough anymore to digest the food that the mosnters did manage to eat. meaning that even if the monster ate food they would not get any energy or new magic from it.

Meaing that even if they ate they would continue to starve.

Wiht how difficult it had been for Nightmare at first to eat or even remember to eat Horror had worried something simular may have happened. That being in the goop form had caused his own magic to grow too weak to be able to function fully.

But all Horror feels is the soft and quiet purr of NIghtmare's magic working hard to use the offered food to rebuild the babybones' small reserves.

Horror sighs a sigh or relieve and just watches Nightmare for a moment. Nightmare, having noticed the pressure on him, makes an unhappy sound and his socket flutters open to give him a sour look.

Horror chuckles as he whispers "I apologise." Horror is unsure how clear his answer is as Horror himself is purring like a loud law mower at this point.

Nightmare blinks at him, still looking like the tiniest little grumpy skeleton this multiverse has ever known, before closing his sockets again and turning on his side. surprisingly not away from the touch and light hold.

Horror watches the other. It is strange. They are all different yet Nightmare still has them all completely under his control. Yet it is in a completely different way and Ngihtmare now doesn't even seem to realise it.

Horror leans on the couch and watches their tiny charge just sleep. Horror had managed to keep the need to complete an adoption at bay by reminding himself that Nightmare already had a caretaker- well two and a half now, Horror is sure that all Cross still needs to complete the soul adoption is a tiny nudge. Horror thinks that Cross is jsut thinking too much about it and doubting his own instincts and feelings.

But that still leaves Horror, and what he wants to do. He figured that it would be better to at least keep one of them unbiased in this nature, just in case that Nightmare suddenly turns into an adult again. But the longer this went on the less likely it seemed to Horror.

Not to forget. Horror doesn't even think Nightmare wants to be an adult again. Not now that he is a child but doens't have to vigilent every moment of every day.

Does he technically already have caretakers? Yes. Does Horror still want to count himself as one? Yes.

So. He just picks for himself.

Horror moves slowly and quietly as he picks Nightmare up. Nightmare grumbles in his sleep at being moved but calms when his magic recognises Horror.

Horror gets comfortable on the couch and lays Nightmare on his sternum. He can still feel the tiny soul beat and pulse fast even through two shirts.

Horror pulls the blanket back over Nightmare and waits.

It doesn't take long as Horror can feel the slight pull on his magic and energy. Hardly noticable and Horror doubts that if he wasn't so paranoid about his own levels he would have noticed.

It is something tiny monsters do. To help stabalise and sharp their own magic they try to take tiny bits of their parents, or caretakers in this case, to help guide them. It all happens naturally.

Horror just holds the tiny babybones closer and feesl Ngihtmare's soul slowly start to match Horror's own soulbeat and he feels all the calmer.

Now it is pretty much done. Horror will have to probably deal with this decision one day but for now he is happy. Their tiny babybones is comfortable and everyone is resting. Tomorrow they will have to worry about getting supplies and where they can go and eventually where they will sleep that night.

But right now? Right now he doesn't have to worry about that. and all he ahs to worry about is that their babybones is comfortable and healing.

*-----------------*

First Drabble here Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

[its-your-mind]

Tbh I??? Really love these Bell’s Hells Company Retreat Activities???? Bc like. It’s not like any of them have been overly cagey this whole time, or actively hiding big secrets from each other. (someone at some point mentioned how BUCKwild it would have been to watch the M9 try to play What The Fuck Is Up With That within the first ten episodes of c2, with all the shit all of them were hiding and how much their early relationships were based on a mutual understanding that no one would expect each other to bring up the past unless it became a danger - the only one who ever poked that particular bear was Beau with Caleb at the start when she traded access to the Archive for the reason why Caleb gets fucked up by fire, and that private conversation shaped their relationship for the rest of the campaign BUT I digress.)

Nothing anyone confessed during the Honesty exercise was… a surprise. The only one who hadn’t shared the entirety of his past (that he remembered) was Chetney, and his was never the past that felt like a threat - that revelation was more along the lines of FCG’s type of “tell me about your family trauma so I can fix you” line of questioning.

The truths the Hells offered up to each other… they were significant (Fearne, I was disappointed in you for being afraid of your power), and scary (deep down, both Delilah and I kind of want the shard), and hard to say out loud (even on the nights I bunk up with one of you, I feel so lonely), but critically, so little of it was surprising. No one was sharing anything earth-shattering about their pasts or previously unknown plans for future betrayal.

And during the Communication exercise - none of them - Chetney, Imogen, Ashton, or Orym - doubted that their directors were leading them the wrong way. They listened, and paid attention to instructions, and didn’t try their own path because they felt like they knew better.

And then during Trust! The part that should have been the hardest!! All of them were obviously distrustful of each other, shooting around stressed looks, sending familiars to dive-bomb to check for flesh, but like… none of them actually turned on each other. None of them ganged up, or broke off, or stood in opposition - they were wary of each other, and they got the task done.

So… it didn’t really lead to any huge shifts in the dynamic. But that was never really what they needed! The Hells have trusted each other since the beginning, and even when they’re actively having to fight each other, it’s always with a desperation born from a place of concern. They really do care for and love each other. I don’t think any of them, if they sat down to think about it, truly believed that one of them was going to betray the others.

But they haven’t had time to sit and think about it. They have been actively fighting the literal end of the world since like… ep 45 (first irl Ludinus sighting/convo). The apocalypse happened. Has been happening. For thirty episodes now. They spent a good chunk of that time apart from each other, and then the rest of it desperately reaching out to anyone with more power than themselves to beg for their help.

So yeah! It’s not a big surprise that they’re all bottling up a lot of their own shit right now! There aren’t that many personal issues that feel like they deserve more attention than the literal end of the world.

It was inevitable something was going to give. And since Ashton’s shit was up next for dissection because they had a past that brushed up against the Primordials? Of course they were the one whose internal lockdown broke first. And of course when it did, it physically shattered Ashton, too, right along those same fault lines where Milo put them back together the first time. It’s so good that they had friends who were there, past and present, to make sure none of the pieces got lost. To put them back together.

We watched Laudna break down right after, specifically because she was back home, in this place where Delilah had first tortured and killed her, where she had lived as a wraith haunting a castle. Delilah had been slowly picking the lock on the cage the Hells had forced her into, and Ashton’s “betrayal” was the last tumbler Delilah needed to snap into place to break the lock in Laudna’s mind. And her mind shattered, fragmented in the same way it had been after she was first brought back as Delilah’s vessel. How beautiful that it was Laudna’s love of children and her desire to make Ashton a gift (meant to be part insult, “because you’re a child,” and declaration of her care for him, “I like children.”)

And Fearne… Fearne almost broke down after them. Slamming the hammer down next to Ashton’s head over and over and over, screaming at him, wandering away through the city, sleeping alone in the woods… She saw the cliff’s edge coming. That’s why she asked them if they could stop at her Nana’s first.

Because she needed it. And the rest of the Hells say, “Why? Do you think Nana Morri can help us in this?” And Fearne says, “Well, I don’t know, but…” And Imogen says, “Do you need it for you?” And Fearne says, in a small and shattered voice, “…yes.”

And that’s the end of the discussion.

They go home, to a place where they are safe and have time, for the first time since Ruidus was locked in place.

And so they have time to be Honest - and they are. Fearne likes to watch them all and play with their hair while they sleep. Orym has thought through how he would neutralize them if he absolutely had to. Ashton thinks it would be better for him to be dead than for Fearne to be hurt. Imogen is scared to face her mom. Laudna dreams of leaving this behind. FCG is jealous of the people around him with a heart, because they have possibilities he doesn’t. Chetney hasn’t settled down once in 400 years because he’s scared he’s cursed to drive away any family he has.

Behind all of this - I want to know everything about you. I need to make sure you don’t hurt each other. I would sacrifice myself to keep you from pain. I don’t want to choose between my blood and this family we’ve built. I want you all to be safe. I want you to pursue happiness. I don’t want to lose you.

And then, Communication - follow along this path. Listen to my voice. Keep calm, keep quiet. Stay the course. I will keep you safe. Keep walking, keep walking, and… you’re there, honey.

And finally, Trust. Two of them are going to be replaced by fae beings bent on preventing them from completing their mission, and they have to complete this task without letting the infiltrators stop them. Okay. Let’s all stick together. Keep eyes on each other. Wait for the doppelgängers to give themselves away somehow. Do you remember these small, banal details about our mutual history? There’s a possibility that action you took was malicious, but I know you well enough to know that might have been a mistake you made on your own. Here, I’ll walk into traps to show that I’m not going to stop you. I’ll get out of your way and take out the threats. I’ll be eyes in the sky and send my familiar to poke you to test if you feel like you should. But nothing you’re doing makes me see you as a real threat - just the possibility of one. I trust you. I trust in you. I trust myself to know enough about you to identify if you’re doing something differently than normal.

And the result of those exercises? No new information, but maybe some things that we all had lost track of amongst the chaos. I am not shocked by your Honesty. I know deep down that I can rely on your Communication. I do Trust you. I know you. I care for you. I know you care for me, too. Even when I have doubts, even when you fuck up, even when things break bad and you make the wrong call…

We are a team for a reason, and no matter what we said in the beginning, it is not just out of necessity or convenience. Are we a bunch of fucked up, broken people? Absolutely. Are we going to continue to fuck up? Probably. Does that change how we feel about each other? No. Never. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here, fighting alongside you. Helping you up when you stumble. Offering a shoulder when you need to cry. Standing over you to protect you if you fall. Laughing with you in good times, kicking ass for you in bad. This is our family, damn it. It is strange, and broken, but it is ours, and it is good.

[evillillad]

not seen: me foaming at the mouth trying to marry this man

[buckevantommy]

ohhhh they made a blunder with the timeline: tommy tells gerrard he transferred out of the 118 5 years ago, but then later bobby references buck's arrival at the 118 being 7 years ago. hmmmm

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the boy-but-not-that-way-ism of riz gukgak send tweet

[strangersatellites]

pride, envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

wrath (noun): uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred. wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance. in its purest form, wrath presents with injury, violence, and hate

cw: rough sex, unhealthy relationships, blood, unsafe sex, choking, slapping, dacryphilia, angst (????) on accident, probably more tbh they genuinely fucking hate each other in this universe

This thing they’d had going on for three months now really had started off fun.

It started out soft and sweet. Stolen kisses in the back of The Hideout, quick, messy blowjobs in the backseat of Steve’s car, booty calls late at night when one or the other couldn’t sleep.

He can’t really identify what went wrong or when. All Steve knows is that the butterflies that he used to get when Eddie came around have turned and twisted into something sharp and heavy. Now when they’re within earshot of each other it's all biting insults and low-blows.

Somewhere along the line, the happiness that Eddie planted in his heart morphed into bitter resentment. But Steve’s nothing if not self-sacrificial, and the sex was too good to give up. Who is he to deny himself of the only good thing Eddie has left to offer him? So now he finds himself shoved into bar bathrooms and left high and dry, bruises mottled up and down his chest and dark bags under his eyes from a fitful sleep. Somehow he’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

On nights where he can’t shake the memory of Eddie’s lips on his and his heart fluttering pretty and soft, he goes out. 

He goes out to a seedy club and he finds someone that he won’t remember the name of in the morning and he tries anything to clear his mind. Nothing’s ever as good.

Tonight he’s found himself a few beers deep and tracing water stains on the bar top at some place he’s never been just outside of town. He’d spent the last ten minutes or so talking to a guy that looked like he’d show him a good enough time. Dark, curly hair cut so that it flopped down into his face, pretty blue eyes that went a shade darker when they looked Steve over, and a shirt cut low enough that Steve could see ink swirl across his collarbones in vines and leaves. 

Steve thinks his name is Adam, but he wasn’t really listening and still really isn’t. He’s found that a few soft laughs and hums while guys talk is usually enough to feign interest long enough to coax them to a bathroom. 

This guy, Adam maybe, is about two seconds away from dragging him there himself, he can tell. It’s written all over his body language. Steve smiles his prettiest smile and flutters his eyelashes.

But as soon as he opens his mouth to purr something like “Do you want to get out of here?” There are strong arms snaking around his waist and teeth scraping at his throat and Steve’s blood runs hot in an instant. He’s well-accustomed to it no longer being a good sensation.

Steve shoves his elbow back with as much force as he can muster and it all goes red before he even hears his chuckle.

“Strike out again, Harrington? I made it just in time then, huh sweetheart,” Eddie coos in a tone dripping with condescension.

He’s on his feet and shoving at Eddie’s chest with enough force he knows it’ll bruise, sees it knock the wind out of him a bit. Gets right up in his face and would do anything to rip that self-satisfied smirk right off of it.

“You miserable fucking prick,” he spits, uncaring of the way Eddie flinches back the tiniest bit. “I was not striking out, and I never am! And yet here you come acting like you’re saving some damsel in distress when it’s you crawling back to me. Every. Single. Time,” he punctuates with jabs to his chest. 

Eddie’s smile doesn’t leave as he huffs a laugh. His tongue swipes across sharp, sharp teeth and he leers at Steve with narrowed eyes. Predatory in a way Steve liked once upon a time but now makes him want to punch out his teeth. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he looks entirely too comfortable with the fact that he just ruined Steve’s night. Again.

“God, sweetheart. You’re so wound up,” he whispers, face pinching up in faux concern. He brings his hands up to smooth down Steve’s biceps and digs his fingers in tight enough that he doesn’t budge with Steve’s attempts at shaking him off. “Tell me. When was the last time someone fucked you good enough that you remembered his name the next morning, now be honest.” He leans in close and that smirk is back and Steve hates it. “You can say it was me, honey. It’ll be our little secret.” 

And Steve’s seeing red again because he’s right. 

It was him. It’s always him and probably always will be. 

He gets back up in his space once more and makes sure he’s looking at his eyes when he whispers a sharp “Fuck. You.”

And it's only for a split second but he swears he sees hurt flash through brown eyes. Gone in an instant and replaced with a real, raw indifference that Steve thinks might be worse. 

He feels a hand at the back of his neck and Eddie’s lips brush his ear. 

“Yours or mine?”

And it was always going to go like this. Steve’s not under any illusions. Knew this time wouldn’t be different. But it still stings the way that he knows in an alternate universe that question might’ve been accompanied with giggles and a kiss. 

But then he remembers the way that Eddie looked so proud when Steve first said he hated him and the rage is back ten-fold.

He turns on his heel and knows he’s being followed.

“Yours. Don’t want you in my fucking house.”

*****

Steve’s got Eddie’s wrists pinned to the wall above his head and his teeth raking down his neck. Wants to leave a mark. A memory. 

He hears Eddie gasp as Steve’s hips shove hard against his own and he shoves harder in retaliation.

“Remember when you used to kiss me?” Steve asks, Eddie’s breath against his face enough to pull some bricks from the walls he’s spent months building.

He feels more than hears Eddie’s hum. Feels his knee come up to shove him backwards until he’s the one pressed against the wall, face turned sideways and arms pinned behind his back.

“Yeah sweetheart.” He leans in to bite at Steve’s ear and make him hiss.

Steve’s grinning, ugly and mean when he grits out “Worst decision of my fucking life.”

But now Eddie’s the one smirking, he can hear it when he speaks. “Mine too. Liked my life a lot better when I didn’t know what you taste like.”

Steve aims for the shin when he bucks a foot backwards, nails it if Eddie’s grunt is anything to go by. He spins around and shoves at Eddie hard enough to send them both to the floor, grateful for a second the fact that his muscle mass makes it easy to manhandle his way into what he wants. 

He laughs, loud and fake. “Now see, that I just don’t believe, Eddie.” He’s got his eyebrows raised high and pout on his lips and he knows what’s coming and he relaxes into it.

And yeah maybe Steve’s strong, but Eddie knows him. Knows when his guard is down. He gets his knees up around Steve’s hips and flips them over, Steve’s back against the ground and there’s the fury Steve’s been after. Been trying to bring it out all night.

Eddie’s got a ringed hand pressed tight against Steve’s throat when he finally lets himself feel. Feel good the way only Eddie can make him. Lets the fight drain out of him as his vision goes spotty. Eddie’s spitting words in his face, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” and saliva into his mouth and it’s so bad-good.

His next breath is heaving as he comes back down and Eddie’s already standing and walking away. 

“Get up. I don’t have all night.”

And now that he’s got Eddie mad, got him fired up, he knows he can let himself go. Lets himself fall even though he knows Eddie’s not going to catch him. Thinks it's worth it until it's not. Until tomorrow when he remembers the way he and Eddie won’t look at each other when their friends are around. They way they don’t talk.

Because this is how it's always going to go. He’s going to let Eddie rile him up, make his sharp, heavy butterflies flutter out in words he thinks he doesn’t really mean. He’s going to push and push and push until Eddie breaks. And even though he started it, Eddie always will. Break, that is. He’ll break out of his self-assured, indifferent asshole persona and he’ll turn into something real and mean. Someone that hates Steve back. 

Steve thinks it shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Eddie stretches him open. The way he smacks the inside of Steve’s thigh hard enough it leaves a welt the shape of his hand. 

He’s got two fingers inside him and Steve feels so good and he can’t help but talk. Head thrown back, words fall from his lips between desperate moans. 

“Hate you so fucking much.”

A smack to his ass and a dejected huff. 

“Yeah. I know you do sweetheart."

Steve groans in annoyance but his back arches all the same.

“Hate it when you call me that.”

And he’s not looking but he knows Eddie is rolling his eyes. 

“I know you do, baby.”

And there’s tears pricking at the back of his eyes because sure he really does hate this man. Really does think he’d have been better off never meeting him. But all he can hear when Eddie calls him “baby” is the way he used to say it through laughter against his skin.

He knows he’s pouting but he thinks he deserves it with the bitter memories he’s fighting away. “Hate that even worse.”

Eddie pulls his fingers out and crawls up his body to squeeze at his cheeks until he fishmouths.

“I know. Now shut up and stop crying. You wanted me mean and you’ve fucking got it baby.”

Steve gasps high in his throat when Eddie grabs him by his hips and flips him onto his belly and something about this flavor of anger Eddie’s wearing sets Steve off again. But this time his anger isn’t a facade. It's raw and real and it's hurt that got brushed aside and became something else entirely.

“Hate what we could’ve been. Hate that I hate you.” He says into a pillow.

He hears Eddie groan and not in a good way. In the way he does when he’s annoyed. He feels his weight lay over his back and his hand on the inside of his thigh yanking upward and open.

“Well I hate that you don’t know when to stop talking." He grits out and the pressure as he presses inside Steve is enough to make him white out.

By the time he builds up a bruising rhythm, punching Steve’s breath out of him on every thrust, he’s talking again.

“Could’ve given you everything you wanted sweetheart,” and his tone is so patronizing, “But it just wasn’t fucking enough was it?”

And Steve’s barely holding on to his consciousness through the pressure deep in his guts and the hand pressing the back of his neck down, down, down. But he’s still got enough wherewithal that that strikes a chord.

Because no, having Eddie behind closed doors wasn’t enough. And Eddie knows that. He knows how that hurt him and chooses to use it against him anyway.

His voice is muffled into the pillow and broken up by whimpers and whines but he speaks anyway.

“Well it wasn’t my– shit, so good. Wasn’t my pride that got in the way.”

Eddie’s hips slow to a deep grind and freeze pressed to the hilt.

The hand at the back of Steve’s neck slides to the front and yanks him up on his knees, pressed against Eddie’s chest.

His chest is heaving where its plastered to Steve’s back and his voice rumbles through them both.

“Maybe not. But it was you that kept your mouth shut and made it my fault.”

Steve goes to argue but gets cut off by the sharp stinging of teeth breaking the skin against his shoulder blade. His breath goes ragged on a shriek and his vision whites out around the edges. Eddie’s shoving him back down, ass-up and face smushed sideways. His hand slips up and pries his mouth wide open and shoves in hard, stopping anything he could possibly say. Steve’s eyes are wide where he’s staring, gone glassy and wet.

“And it looks like now you don’t know how to do that, do you baby?” He asks.

And he’s got his fingers down his throat and his dick shoved deep.

There’s blood dripping from his teeth in that sharp, bitter smile. And he’s so pretty. And Steve hates him.

He chokes around his fingers on a sob as Eddie picks up his pace again.

Hates that it feels so good.

Hates that he comes back for this.

Hates that Eddie’s right.

Because maybe he can’t pinpoint when or where things went south, but he knows it has everything to do with the way he started needing more and not asking for it. Knows Eddie was letting him figure it out on his own. And instead of just going for it, he knows he started blaming.

So maybe he does hate Eddie. Hates him for the way he didn’t push him when he knew he needed it. Hates that he still uses him like this. 

But he really hates himself. Because he could’ve had what he wanted but he didn’t take it.

(Hates that tomorrow he’ll forget this all again, too far in his head and in the feeling of Eddie taking what he wouldn’t give. He’ll forget it all and go back to hating him again.)

A sharp smack to the outside of his thigh brings him barreling back down into reality and it's Eddie’s words that send him hurdling into release.

“Here you fucking go again with the crying. God I hate that you’re so fucking pretty.”

Steve hates that that’s what does it for him. Hates that his crying is what does it for Eddie. Hates the way he’s filled up and will have to go home messy, the way Eddie pulls out of him and throws him his clothes.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Eddie’s heavy inhale from far away.

“I assume you can show yourself out.”

As Steve pulls his shirt over his head and wipes the tear tracks from his face he thinks “Yeah. This is why I hate him.”

And from the other side of the room Eddie thinks that if Steve would say half of the things that run through his mind with Eddie inside him, maybe they wouldn’t hate each other at all.

[toriliashine]

need mastermind kokichi and gonta going mwah mwah

the angel/demon theming working together perfectly, matching the mask/reveal scene in chapter 4 only to reveal they were working together the whole time

the mind games, the clashing personalities and bodies yet melding perfectly together, in despair and in love, it's like

they were made for each other...

//on to notes like

**i am now also BEGGING YALL to read the tags

i'm still working on the designs but i know i have some drafts here hmm

>for their mastermind fits, i'm thinking gonta being all white , with his hair being more curled and really framing his face for that angelic round-faced look, plus his ahoge making a little halo to really top it off. one eye of his glasses are red for monokuma. with a black choker . nice fancy 3 piece suit that really accentuate his muscles, giving the image that he's not someone to mess with despite his angelic demeanor and damn, he looks good in it too plus an all white , n gold/red accented overcoat! letting the boy be dramatic and fancy and beautiful 2k24.

*more notes at bottom

kokichi's fit is a sleek, sharp black. but still comfortable to move and store things in. He can still be silly and dramatic in it but It's be really cool for his new fit to be purposefully cold, controlled and intimidating , a good contrast from his usual clownness to really grab their attention. //need to explain this one to be an 'oh! he was doing that to distract us' but more... oomf . hm He has a a white glove, and a black one to draw more attention to the former. black captain hat with devil horns, or just the horns? hm. plus the black cape for the demon bat silhouette. inside is one of those cool n kinda slutty but loose all black formal fits, like (ahhh i need to get pack into drawing or outfit scrapbooking but imagine with me)

**** gonta's black choker and kokichi's white gloves is supposed to a) show their connection via the colours lol. but also represent a dog on a leash deal. however gonta can take off and on the choker when he pleases, showing his willingness and equal choice in this operation despite it seeming like ouma has the upper hand [plus feeding into the 'ouma is controlling him!' schtick their classmates got going on, thus making them suspect him less and not believe him and kokichi are purposefully working together! boom baby

also, the kink factor. hehe

**** i do wonder if i should cave and make them both wear chokers matching the other's colour though. i like chokers , and colour symbolism

[w1lmutt]

I'm bored and wanna talk, so let me ask a question: what's a show/movie/book/comic/game etc that really fascinated you? Spoiler talk is welcome here (as long as you give a warning for those who don't want them)

I'll start! A few days ago I watched the Truman show for the first time and I thought it was amazingly done! The "enemy faction" felt more suffocating than any other group I've seen a mc have to go against, and they're just a group of actors and a film crew! The fact that this has been Trumans whole life is so disturbing looking at it now, during the age of family vloggers where children grow up as microcelebrities with no personal space or ability to stop the filming until they're old enough to leave their home. So overall, very good film, very disturbing and effective and I would love to revisit it sometime in the future

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Andy discussing his film "Breathe" at Build Series in NYC.

[lordofthemushrooms]

The hug. “I care about you”. “This is nice” “my dear”

I am crying so hard

[hanzajesthanza]

i was looking up tips for formatting bilingual books (for example, a copy of idk the iliad with ancient greek on one side, english translation on the other), but i didn’t know the word describing this kind of format 🤔

so i was stringing together keywords like “book with two languages” and one of the results was a reddit post with someone trying to find a book that alternates between multiple languages, i.e., there are no translations, it’s it’s one text, but half of the story is in english, then the other half, or interwoven throughout, is in french or whatever

and it took strength to not suggest the hussite trilogy 🥴

[sqlmn]

Local man who survives by identifying smells dragged into a candle store and promptly suffers. (I got so lazy in the end on the last part sorry it's very not accurate heights and stuff)

[nyxypoo]

tempting...

[im-still-watching-anime]

kristoph: the law is perfect. it’s absolute.

klavier: you literally manipulated it to get away with murder

kristoph: yeah, the exploits are perfect too. for me. and my crimes.