#maybe i will write a part two who knows

[cynicalmusings]

‘the most crucial skill that a good drinksmith needs is listening… drinksmithing is all about having conversations with your guests’

tea house owner!reader energy for real

[ffcrazy15]

I need a whole fic where the Cerritos is mistaken for the Enterprise by some type of alien with very high intelligence but very poor visual recognition, for whatever reason.

And Freeman either can't or is too scared to convince them that they're not the Enterprise, so she starts desperately assigning everyone to various roles. Boimler gets assigned as Data, and since he and Mariner are the only people on the ship who play string instruments, the captain orders them to put together some sort of "symphony" because the aliens have heard that that's a thing on the Enterprise.

And it's just Mariner and Boimler frustratedly trying to figure out how to combine her electric guitar skills and his traditional violin skills into something suitably "symphonic" (i.e. thematically trying to combine her more lax/modern way of doing things with his more strict/traditional way).

[flowercrowngods]

i’ve decided to send an ask for each story you posted in the wip game kdnehdhs who did this to you? lives rent free in my brain 💛💛 (@a-little-unsteddie)

thank you so much 🥰🤍 still slowly working my way through the asks, so have a few more words to make up for the wait 🫶

who did this to you (pt.4) // tales of blue part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on ao3 🌷 preceding snippet no 1. | no. 2

Finally, finally, the familiar sound of Wayne‘s old truck rounding the corner into the trailer park interrupts the tense silence that seems to have fallen over all of Forest Hills tonight, and Eddie has half a mind to run out there, run toward them and get the whole story. Just to be sure that everything is fine. Just to be sure that Steve’s still… That he’s still there.

He stays right where he is, though, staring at Buckley‘s wild hair, feeling her shadow walk over him as Wayne pulls up to their driveway and stops. She is right in the centre of the headlights, but still she doesn’t move. Eddie wants to scream at her. Wants to nudge her and shove her out of the way — imagines it, imagines all the alternate universes in which he finds her wide eyes scared and unseeing as Wayne‘s voice sounds behind them, telling them that Steve didn’t make it.

Except in this one, Wayne said they’re coming home. In this one, shit like that doesn’t happen to eighteen year-old boys and their friends.

Aside from that girl. Barbara Holland.

Eddie swallows, his eyes flitting between bright lights to the silhouette of Buckley right in their centre. Like a doe, he thinks. Terrified of what she’ll find.

Don’t you wanna know? Eddie wants to ask her. Don’t you wanna see? What are you afraid of? What did you see? Who is he, Robin, and who are you? Why the fuck won’t you move?

In the end, it is the sound of a car door slamming shut that snaps Buckley out of her stupor, and she all but flies off the steps towards the truck. Towards where Eddie can vaguely make out the shape of a badly bruised face, the play of light and darkness not enough to conceal the deep purple splotches or the sluggishness of his movements as he raises his head. Turning toward Buckley like a flower to the sun.

She presses her hand to the window for a second, just looking at him — and Eddie is glad he can’t see either of their faces. He has a feeling that what he’d see there would haunt him forever.

[tswwwit]

Wait, does the cheating thing on the bond always works? bcs that would be kinda freaky for R!Dipper like imagine you get pinned down by someone in the corner of a br or smthng and then said person kissed you and proceeded to explode into red mist and you literally have no idea what happened.

Also, would the constellation mark be a "cursed" Mark over the years, like you would give birth to a baby and the doctor says "😟 I am so sorry ma'am,,, I'm afraid your baby has the Cipher Companion mark. ( could also be something equally as science-y like Ursa Major, Constellation Calamation, etc idk)" And you just burst into tears.

Would that mean that dipper would get into a special program(demon wrangling program or smthng, demonologist? Maybe)? Or would the parents hide it away hoping that Bill would never take their child away?

(Sorry this au is just very interesting to me,,,, I hope u get more motivation, keep writing author 💪)

These are all options! The fun part of reincarnation AU being left ambiguous is that technically any of them could happen.

[appalachianapologies]

uhhhhh drabble without context :)

“Mac?” Frown deepening, Riley takes a few steps forward. “Hey. Are you… okay?” It’s a monumentally stupid thing to ask given that Riley doesn’t even think she’s okay, but Mac’s supposed to be the seasoned agent here. Plus, as much as she hates to think about it, Riley’s pretty sure that Mac’s seen worse when he was in the Army disarming bombs, or whatever it was that he did out there.

When she puts her hand on his shoulder, all she gets is a shudder. “Mac, I think you’re in shock.”

This time, he swallows. “I’m okay.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Home.”

“Where’s home?”

This time, Mac moves with sudden movements, nearly smacking Riley in the face with the speed at which he turns. “Where’s Jack?”

“Mac, where’s home for you?”

“Here. Where’s Jack?”

She just barely stops herself from sighing. Moving until she’s in front of Mac’s face again, Riley desperately looks for some sign of concussion or something to explain his behavior. “Tell me where you are.”

“California.”

Truth be told, Riley was hoping for a more specific answer, but at this point she’ll take it as a win.

“I need to get Jack-”

“He’s okay.”

Mac shakes his head, taking a step away from Riley. “I need to- they’ll never let me go out if the sun sets, I-”

“Hey, hey! You don’t need to rescue him. He’s fine.” Against her better judgement, Riley reaches for his arm, hoping that the action will ground him and not cause her to end up with a bloody nose. “Mac, look at me. Jack’s at the Phoenix right now. I mean, he’s a little busted up, but he’s also not the only one.”

This time, it’s Mac’s turn to frown. “Are you hurt?”

Riley tightens her grip a little. “No. Mac, you were- you know what, why don’t we go get Jack?”

Belatedly, Mac nods.

When they brought her onto DXS, Riley really wasn’t expecting the guy who could hack everything other than computers, the guy who couldn’t possibly be older than her but still seemed to have all the confidence in the world, to look like this. And for the first time in her adult life, Riley would be willing to admit, out loud, that she wishes Jack Dalton were here.

[hiis-theme]

somewhere out there is an alternate timeline where toby was correct and people actually did hate spamton. could you imagine that. i have to imagine we wouldn't have gotten the spamton sweepstakes in that case which is crazy to think about given how much lore that gave us-

[bumblingbabooshka]

write to me

[raiiny-bay]

the degenerates: out of context

[ghosttotheparty]

sweet love of mine

also on AO3 part two

Something’s wrong with Steve.

Eddie noticed it a while ago, the way he always looks so on edge, so nervous and anxious and stressed, even when there isn’t a lot going on, the way he only relaxes when he’s high. The way he does silent headcounts every time they’re with the kids. And then Eddie started noticing other things after moving in with him: he stays up late at night, sitting in the living room instead of his bedroom, and he wakes up too early, almost before the sun is even peering over the horizon. His smiles don’t quite reach his eyes. He often falls quiet and just breathes in a way that isn’t quite normal, like he’s forcing his lungs to fill and empty.

Eddie wants to help, of course he does. He always ends up falling quiet with him, taking a moment to just watch, to just listen, to just wait. A few times, he’s reached out to touch him, to set a hand on his back or over his hand, and Steve always gives him a look that said a lot without saying anything at all.

He worries about him, especially when he’s not around. Eddie stays in the Harrington home (sans Harrington, unless one would count Steve, who doesn’t really even seem to count himself as a Harrington anymore), and Steve goes and lives his life. He and Robin still work at Family Video, and Steve still acts as a free taxi service to the kids. He’s even teaching Mike how to drive. He comes home in the afternoons or the evenings, depending, and he and Eddie talk and talk and talk until the sun is long gone. Eddie used to be bitter about it, that his whole world has become this house too massive to have to himself and the backyard and driveway, but he isn’t bitter anymore. He’s safe. He’s alive. He’s got the scars to prove it.

He knows that Steve takes on more than he should. That no one really seems to notice except the few times that the kids have lowered their voices on their own during movie nights and little parties because Steve started wincing or squinting or subtly covering his ears. He knows that Steve doesn’t talk about it. That It’s nothing, and I’m fine and Don’t worry about it and that tight, forced smile, never mean what Steve is trying to say.

He knows Steve is going to break of these days.

He just wasn’t expecting it to be on a Monday morning.

It’s a nice morning. Partially cloudy so the sun isn’t too bright in the way Eddie knows Steve hates because it makes his head hurt. The light is almost silver instead of gold.

He can hear Steve before he’s all the way down the stairs, and he pauses, listening harder. (Something that everyone does, he thinks. Stops and listens to any noise that’s out of the ordinary instead of assuming what it is or going to find out what it is.) It’s Steve’s breathing. He can tell from the stairs.

His throat nearly closes up, and he continues down the stairs, tilting his head and making sure he doesn't trip and fall. He doesn’t want to give Steve something to worry about, not when he’s like this; taking short, choking and gasping breaths that sound like his lungs are closed up. Eddie finds him on the sofa, curled up into a ball with his head on the armrest, his hair fallen into his face, and Eddie pauses again, unsure of whether he’s sleeping or not.

Eddie slowly approaches the back of the sofa and reaches over to set a hand on Steve’s shaking shoulder.

“Hey,” he says softly, squeezing gently. “Steve.”

Steve curls into himself and presses his face into the armrest. Eddie furrows his brows and moves around the sofa without moving his hand off his shoulder until he can crouch on the ground, looking at Steve’s face.

His skin is tear-streaked, his eyes closed but squeezed shut in a way that tells Eddie that he’s awake. His eyelashes are clumped with tears, and his cheeks and nose are rosy and reddened, and he looks fucking exhausted.

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers, running his hand down Steve’s arm. “I need you to take a deep breath.”

“‘M fine,” Steve mumbles without opening his eyes.

“No, you're not,” Eddie breathes. He wipes away a tear as Steve’s lip wobbles and he takes a shaky breath that he doesn’t exhale all the way. “That’s alright,” he adds, as softly as he can. “You’re not fine, Stevie.”

Steve whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut, and he’s crying, and Eddie’s hand tightens on his arm for a moment before he releases him.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he whispers. Steve nods into the armrest.

Eddie sets his hand on his arm again, running it up and down, squeezing gently. His other hand pushes Steve’s hair back, out of his face, combs through it gently. Steve takes a gasping breath, and Eddie can see the way his chest is moving up and down, nearly shuddering with how fast Steve is breathing, hiccuping sobs.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “I need you to breathe.”

“I– I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Eddie tells him gently. “Come here, sit up.”

He carefully helps Steve sit up, moving a hand so his sleeve falls over it before reaching up to wipe Steve’s face as Steve’s eyes flutter open and he looks down at his blearily.

“You’re okay,” Eddie breathes, nodding, wiping his tears and squeezing his shoulder again. He shifts so he's kneeling between Steve’s legs.

“I can’t breathe,” Steve chokes, his fists clenching on his legs. Eddie nods, moving his hand to take one of Steve’s.

“You can.” Steve’s hand is shaking almost violently, and Eddie squeezes it, pulling it to his own chest so Steve’s palm presses over his heart. “Breathe with me, sweetheart, I’m right here.” He wants to kick himself for it, but Steve’s watery eyes flick back and forth between his, and his hand pushes, and he takes another gasping breath. “You got it, Stevie, in all the way.” He takes a slow, deep breath, and Steve’s eyes watch his chest move.

“They left me,” Steve chokes after a minute. His voice is too high, and it cracks, and Eddie’s heart cracks with it.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing Steve’s hand. “I know, Stevie, it's okay.”

“They left me,” Steve cries again, and his eyes are squeezing shut again, and tears are falling down his cheeks, and his other hand is gripping Eddie’s shoulder so tightly it hurts. “They left me, they left me, they left me.”

They left me they left me they left me they left me they left me they left me

There’s a sort of anger in Eddie that he never felt before he met Steve. A bubbling, simmering rage that tempts him to do things he can never undo to people he’s never met, people that he wouldn’t even be able to recognize if he saw them in the streets. (There aren’t any pictures of them on the walls. Eddie wonders sometimes if there used to be, but they took them with them.) It’s a kind of anger that makes his hands shake whenever he thinks too hard about it. A kind of anger that made him cry when he remembered the way Steve shrugged nonchalantly despite the way his eyes shined.

“I’m right here,” Eddie whispers, sliding his other hand over Steve’s waist and holding him tightly. “I’ve got you, Stevie, you’re okay.”

Steve stutters something that he can’t finish saying. Eddie’s eyes are burning.

“��S okay,” he says gently. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

Steve’s hand slides up and holds the side of his neck tightly, and his eyes are wide and frantic and crying, and Eddie raises up on his knees, nodding.

“I’m right here.”

“Eddie— Eddie, I’m—”

“I know, I got you.”

Eddie tilts his head up as Steve leans down, still panting quickly, and their foreheads meet. Eddie closes his eyes.

He stays there, holding Steve’s hand to his chest, holding his side tightly, until Steve’s breathing finally slows down. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but his knees ache, and he’s tired from holding himself up, but he doesn’t care. He stays.

Slowly, Steve’s shaking hand slides into Eddie’s hair, and then he’s falling against him, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie is wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist gently. He buries his face in Steve’s neck, murmuring to him softly as Steve cries.

His neck is wet with Steve’s tears. He carefully runs his hand over Steve’s spine, whispering that he’s okay, that he’s safe. Steve’s shoulders are shaking, and his legs wrap around Eddie, who strokes his hair and his back and his hips.

When he finally stops crying, his body relaxes, almost melting against Eddie, and Eddie shifts, carefully pushing Steve back enough to look at him.

He looks almost asleep, his eyes nearly shut, his shoulders sloped and exhausted. Eddie reaches up and gently wipes his face with his sleeve.

“‘M sorry,” Steve mumbles as Eddie is wiping his nose.

“Don’t apologise,” he whispers. “How long were you here before I came down?” Steve shrugs weakly, his eyes closing. “‘S okay, I’m here now.”

He leans up and presses his lips to Steve’s cheek. Steve exhales and tilts his head, leaning down so subtly Eddie almost doesn’t notice, one of his hands lifting to hold the back of Eddie’s head. Eddie kisses him again, this time on the cut of his jaw, and then again, and again, and the only sound in the room is Steve’s soft breath and Eddie’s lips on his tear-damp skin.

“Sit back, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs after a while, against his neck. “C’mere.”

He pushes Steve back until Steve is sitting against the back of the sofa, and Steve releases him, exhaling and leaning back. Eddie finds a blanket on the other side of the sofa, tugging it over and draping it over Steve’s shoulders.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get you some water.”

“No, ‘s okay,” Steve mumbles, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

“Steve,” Eddie says firmly. Steve opens his eyes and looks up at him promptly, lifting his chin to look up at him as Eddie stands. Eddie touches his chin, watching as Steve’s shoulders drop. “Let me take care of you.”

Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows. Eddie feels something flutter in his stomach as he looks down at him, as Steve’s lashes flutter as he blinks.

“…Okay.”

Eddie brushes his thumb over his chin gently.

“Thank you.”

He brings him a glass of water and sits next to him, holding the glass to his lips and setting his other hand on the back of his head gently, watching as Steve closes his eyes and gulps the water, his own fingertips resting on Eddie’s fingers around the glass. Drops of water are sliding down Steve’s jaw and neck, and Eddie wants to lick them away.

Steve gasps when the glass is empty and Eddie lowers it, leaning to set it on the ground. He swats Steve’s hand away and wipes the water on his face off himself gently.

“Thank you,” Steve says softly. He’s avoiding looking at Eddie.

“You wanna go to sleep?” Eddie asks gently. Steve shakes his head, taking a breath.

“No, I— I have to…”

“Hey.” Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. “The kids are at school. You don’t have work. You can rest, Steve.”

Steve sighs heavily.

“What do you need?” Eddie whispers, shifting closer, setting his other hand on Steve’s in his lap. His hands are still shaking, but they hold Eddie’s tightly, pulling it closer.

“I…”

Eddie squeezes his hand. Steve takes a breath and looks at him. His eyes are still glistening, shining with unshed tears.

“What you said,” he says, his voice short. Eddie blinks in confusion. “Take— Take care of me.” He’s looking at Eddie desperately, looking back and forth between his eyes. “I need— I need you to take over, I need—” Eddie nods, leaning in to kiss his temple.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and moves, shifting to wrap his arms around Eddie's neck and hugging him tightly. The blanket falls from his shoulders. Eddie hugs him back, gently guiding him to move closer, tugging at his legs until Steve is swinging a leg over Eddie’s so he’s sitting on his lap, burying his face in Eddie’s neck.

Eddie reaches over and finds the blanket again, draping it over Steve before he slides his hands over his back.

“Need you in charge, Eddie,” Steve mumbles in his neck. He’s crying again. “Need you to take over, take care of me—”

“I’m gonna take care of you, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, rubbing his back. “Hey.”

He pulls him back, looking into his eyes and nodding.

“Deep breath, sweetheart.” Steve gasps for breath, and Eddie wipes his tears again. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Steve inhales deeply and holds it for a moment before he exhales heavily. His hands are set on Eddie’s shoulders, holding him tightly.

“Good boy.”

Eddie watches as Steve’s eyelids flutter, and then he’s smiling, because yeah, he can work with this.

“One more time,” he whispers, watching Steve’s chest rise and fall, nodding. “Okay.”

Steve huffs out a little breath, blinking at him, and then he looks down at where his legs are settled, his knees on either side of Eddie’s hips. His cheeks flush pink and he shifts, moving to get up, but Eddie grabs his hips, letting out a little Mm-mm.

“Stay.”

Steve settles again, taking a breath that sounds almost like a gasp, his eyebrows quivering like he might cry again.

“Okay.”

Eddie smiles up at him, reaching up and touching his face, pressing his palm to his cheek. Steve turns his face into it, his eyes closing.

“You gonna be good for me?” Eddie murmurs, brushing his thumb back and forth over his cheek, and Steve nods. “Sweet boy.”

Steve melts. His eyes open and he gazes down at Eddie, who watches his eyes glaze over, feels him become heavier on his lap.

“There you go,” Eddie breathes.

Steve closes his eyes again, sighing, and Eddie leans up, tilting his head to press his lips to the hollow of Steve’s throat. Steve’s head falls back, and Eddie slides his hand into his hair, pulling him closer and pressing another kiss to his Adam’s apple, smiling against his skin when Steve lets out a soft whimper.

“I got you,” Eddie whispers. Steve shivers. “I want you to rest, okay?”

Steve nods.

“Yes.”

Eddie laughs lightly, pulling away to look at him and caressing his face again. His eyes are almost closed, still glazed over, and he looks almost high.

“Are you comfortable here?” Eddie asks gently. Steve nods again.

“Yes.”

“C’mere, put your head down.”

Steve closes his head and shifts on his lap, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder and moving his arms so his hands are curled against his chest. Eddie tilts his head to give him space, settling against the sofa, moving his hands to press under Steve’s shirt.

“Alright?” he whispers, pausing, and Steve nods into his neck.

“Feels good.”

Eddie slides his hands over Steve’s spine, then drags his nails over his skin gently. Steve hums quietly, nuzzling into his neck and relaxing against him.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs. “I’ll be right here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Stevie, I’m not going anywhere.”

He can feel the exact moment Steve slips into sleep. His breath is soft against the side of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie closes his eyes, continuing to trace lines over his skin gently until his hands rest against the small of Steve’s back as he falls asleep too.

He wakes up before Steve, opening his eyes to find the mid-morning sun shining across the room, feeling Steve’s hair brushing his skin. He smiles, closing his eyes again and sighing.

When Steve wakes, he sleepily moves his arms to Eddie’s neck, pushing his hands out over the sofa as he stretches, and he sighs, burying his face in Eddie’s neck with a soft groan.

“How do you feel?” Eddie asks quietly when Steve lifts his head. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squinting.

“‘M tired.”

“You can go back to sleep if you want.”

Steve’s lips spread into a smile and he shakes his head, even as he leans back down and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

He settles against him and is quiet for a few moments before he says, in a rough voice, “Should we talk about it?”

“Probably,” Eddie says softly.

“…Can I stay here?”

“‘Course.”

Steve’s nose brushes Eddie’s neck, and Eddie smiles.

“It sounds weird,” Steve says after another few moments, his voice soft. “That I want you to… take over.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Eddie tells him gently.

“No?” Steve says, his voice so soft and vulnerable it makes Eddie ache.

“No.” He tilts his head and kisses Steve’s forehead. “Did you like it?” he asks, running a hand over Steve’s spine again, scratching his skin.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “I liked it a lot.”

“Me too.”

Steve exhales.

“Can we do it again?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course we can.” He squeezes him closer when Steve sighs heavily. “We should… probably talk about it, though.”

“Okay.”

Eddie hesitates, sliding his tongue over his lip and letting his head fall against the sofa.

“Do you think… Do you think giving me some, like, control might… I don’t know, help? Make you less— less overwhelmed with everything?”

Steve is quiet for a moment before, “Yes.”

Eddie smiles softly.

“What kind of control do you wanna give me?”

Steve’s hand shifts on Eddie’s chest, moving to press flat against him and slide up to the collar of his shirt, where it stops just to hold it loosely.

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Nothing you’re not comfortable with.”

“I know,” Steve says lightly. Eddie can hear his smile on his voice. “I trust you.”

He’s quiet again, tracing a line above the collar of Eddie's shirt, his fingertip dragging over his collarbone.

“I think… things like this,” he says finally. “I like how you talked to me earlier. How you were—” His voice cuts off, and he swallows before speaking again. “You were nice to me, but also… firm.”

“Can I call you things? I called you sweetheart earlier, I—”

“Yes,” Steve interrupts. “Yes. I like that.”

“Okay.”

“Can you…”

Eddie waits for him to finish, but when he doesn’t, he nudges him gently.

“Can I what?”

Steve takes a breath.

“I don’t know. Take over more. I just— I want you to be in charge.”

Eddie hugs him tightly, kissing his forehead again.

“I can do that,” he says quietly. “What do you want me to do?”

“You pick,” Steve says, lifting his head and looking at Eddie. His hands press to Eddie’s chest. “I don’t know, I want—”

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, pushing Steve’s hair out of his face, taking a deep breath. Steve’s cheeks are red, one of them marked with a crease from Eddie’ shirt, and his skin is sleep-warm. Eddie could get used to this. “I can… I don’t know. Pick what you wear. Make sure you’re eating and drinking water.” Steve is already nodding. “Yeah?”

“As long as you’re not putting me in punk metal fashion,” Steve says, and Eddie laughs, touching his face again.

“No, I’ll be mindful of what you like.”

Steve smiles again, swallowing.

“Okay.”

Eddie gazes up at him, brushing his hair back again.

“We can also…” He clears his throat. “We can also put some rules in place for you.”

Steve nods again.

“Like what?”

“Like. Uhm.” He looks away, then across Steve’s face, thinking. “Three meals a day.”

Steve smiles, but wrinkles his nose.

“What?” Eddie says, smiling back because he can’t help it. Steve shrugs.

“I don’t like breakfast.”

“Why?”

“I’m never hungry in the morning. Sometimes breakfast makes me feel sick.”

“Okay, two meals then. And snacks when you’re hungry.”

Steve swallows, his fingers tracing over Eddie’s neck.

“Okay. What else?”

Eddie pauses again.

“Wear what I pick for you.” Steve nods. “Tell me where you’re going,” he says, his voice softer, nervous. “And call if your plans change.”

Steve nods, smiling like he understands the way Eddie gets anxious when Steve isn’t home.

“Want you to use your words.”

Steve’s eyelids flutter for a moment, his eyes lowering to Eddie’s mouth.

“Is that a rule?” he asks softly, and Eddie grins.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll think of some more later,” Eddie says, brushing thumb over Steve’s cheek. “We can write them down.”

Steve nods, before he says, “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Eddie says with a soft smile, and Steve’s cheeks flush pink. He suppresses a smile unsuccessfully, and Eddie tilts his head fondly at him. “What do you want?” he asks, gazing at him because he can’t stop.

“Want you to touch me more,” Steve says, his voice breathy and warm. Eddie can tell that he’s feeling like he did earlier, his eyes glazed over a little bit, his blinks too bleary for him to not be feeling floaty. “Like— Like touching my hand, or my back, or— or something. I don’t know.”

“I can do that,” Eddie tells him, and he sees Steve relax. “What else?”

Steve blinks at him, and after a moment he shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he breathes, laughing softly, shaking his head. Eddie smiles. “I can’t think.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to.”

Steve closes his eyes. Eddie reaches up and traces his face, pushing his hair away, connecting his moles like constellations on his skin.

“My pretty boy,” he murmurs without thinking, but before he can be embarrassed, Steve is nodding, turning his face into Eddie’s hand.

“‘M your boy.”

“My what boy?” Eddie prompts, and Steve smiles, his cheek squishing against Eddie’s palm.

“Pretty boy.”

“Mhmm.”

Steve sighs, opening his eyes and looking at Eddie again.

He really is so pretty.

Eddie’s chest hurts.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks abruptly. His cheeks turn red as Eddie stares at him. “I— If you— I don’t—”

Eddie interrupts, pulling him down into a kiss, smiling against Steve’s chapped lips. Steve takes a deep breath when their lips meet, sliding his hands up to hold Eddie’s head between them, his fingers pushing into Eddie’s curls that are still tangled. He pulls away with a gasp, his wide eyes meeting Eddie’s for a moment before he leans back in, and their mouths crash together.

Eddie is still grinning. He leans up to kiss him back, pulling away from the sofa and leaning over Steve, who leans back with it. Steve’s fingers tighten on Eddie’s hair, and Eddie sucks at his lip for a moment before pulling away again.

They’re both breathing hard, and Steve smiles when their eyes meet.

“Oh.”

Eddie scoffs, caressing the side of Steve’s face, lifting his chin and pulling Steve in again.

He kisses him softly, nipping at his bottom lip, pulling away just to tilt his head and lick his lips, and Steve’s hands fall to his shoulders, holding him gently and tenderly.

“‘S nice,” Steve mumbles when they part again. His eyes are still closed, and he looks almost asleep. Eddie traces his lips.

“I want you to rest some more, okay?”

Steve nods after a moment, and Eddie tilts his head, waiting, but when Steve doesn’t say anything, he nudges his cheek gently.

“Words, baby.”

Steve exhales hard, blinking.

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up, and he grins, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You still comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

[hella1975]

i hate my town i hate the people in it i hate the shame that consumes us all i hate that every failure might as well be posted in the square because everyone knows everyone i hate that my grandparents are here and i hate that my mother came back for them i hate that the kids are dying and no one cares i hate that every good memory has a bad memory right next door like sam's house around the corner from my childhood home i hate the body they pulled from the river i hate the memory of hearing yellow by coldplay at my cousin's funeral because all i could think was that it was too modern for the situation but then he was only seventeen so it makes sense i hate that i was seventeen too and all the boys i knew were there his friends that were supposed to be the tough guys the scary guys i hate that i pretended not to see them sobbing i hate that everything smells of cigarettes here i hate the politics i hate the people i used to love that dont even smile at me on the street i hate that the girl who called me a slut works at my favourite bar i hate every alley and hidden shortcut and i hate that i know them like the back of my hand i hate the same fucking coffee shops i sat in when i was fourteen and scared and now im nineteen and scared and i hate that it's exactly what this town wants i hate that it wants anger i hate that it wants fear i hate that it wants shame i hate that i can give it everything

[fiendishartist2]

guys what if i want to make my own apollo justice game.

[aethergate]

i have too many vanitas headcannons that i just have rattle around in my head

[keeps-ache]

just goofin around !

[fortyfive-forty]

i had my ao3 in my bio for a whole three (3) minutes and then chickened out 😭

[idlyingabout]

I spent some 10 months working in this retail supermarket shop that's close to home and after quitting the only experience that's stayed with me is those rare few times when i would see other queer people just existing in public. Maybe it's because I'm kind of a coward and could never be that openly out, or the environment in this area of the city that I know is very christian and very hostile (the things that i've heard my coworkers saying...) but I came to treasure those rare moments in a very special way. It can feel kinda lonely here, where sometimes it seems like it's just me and the friends I met in artschool and the people in other areas that i see on instagram, weirdly far away from me, and knowing that it'll be decades before we achieve anything meaningful in this country, but seeing someone being so open and brave like that makes me wanna keep going y'know? Maybe someday I'll live in a future where my teacher from artschool didn't have to travel to the USA to get married, and I can go to the beach with my friends and have twin scars on my chest.

[eskawrites]

Flayed!Robin & Feral Nancy...there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about them.

Anyways, I'm rewatching ST S2 and at the point where Will starts to forget everyone.

Was that an idea you considered for Robin in your Flayed!Robin fic? And were there some other ideas you liked but didn't quite make the final cut? And if so, what were they?

i love this question anon, you're my new favorite

it is an idea i considered! but i scrapped it early on for a couple different reasons. i kind of made flayed robin more of a mix between the actual flayed and vecna's victims in s4. there are actual narrative reasons for it--vecna was stronger/more prominent than he was in s2, robin is older and her brain is slightly more developed than will's would've been, etc. and so on--but mostly i changed things to make it easier to write from nancy's pov. also, while a scene where robin doesn't recognize nancy would've been juicy, it didn't fit with all the other ways vecna used robin to hurt her

as for other stuff, there actually is a fair amount that i changed or cut! the original outline had a scene where El looked for vecna but ended up seeing robin instead. i ended up scrapping it because at that point it felt too obvious, and think both nancy and el would've figured out robin was flayed (or at least in danger) because of that. there's still a version of that scene chilling somewhere in my notes doc though

also, the epilogue was going to be so much longer. i even sketched out ideas for how they eventually defeat vecna. but it all started to feel like a tangent, and i really wanted the focus to be on nancy and robin (i even cut some steve scenes to keep the spotlight on them lol), so i changed the epilogue to really zero in on that first day after they get robin back and the dynamic between her and nancy throughout it