#never been but it sounds much cooler than where i'm from!

[sunrenity]

STICK TOGETHER  、LHS

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ no matter what, you two will always stick together.

𝓁ee 𝒽eeseungㅤ✶ㅤ female readerㅤ ｡｡｡ ㅤest relationship, boyfriend! hee, fluffㅤⓘㅤskinship, confession, kissingㅤwcㅤ1233ㅤℬookshelfㅤzehra's note.ㅤso so sorry for not being active that much 😓 i'm on vacation with my family which is why i haven't been active and didn't write & post anything for a week (or more...).

the sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of indigo sky dotted with glittering stars. the air is cool and crisp, and the quiet hum of the evening embraces the two of you as you sit on the rooftop of your childhood home. the very rooftop where countless memories were written — memories of scraped knees, stolen glances, and a love that blossomed between innocence and time.

you lean back, your head resting gently against heeseung’s shoulder. his arm, warm and familiar, drapes protectively around your waist as if he's afraid to let go, afraid you might slip through his fingers like sand. he has always been like that, ever since you can remember — always holding on, always close. and you, in turn, never mind. how could you, when heeseung’s presence feels like home?

“you remember when we used to sneak up here and count the stars?” you muse, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

heeseung chuckles softly, the sound sending gentle vibrations through your body as he turns his head to press a lingering kiss against your temple. “how could i forget? you were terrible at counting back then,” he teases, his breath warm against your skin.

you nudge him playfully, smiling despite yourself. “hey, i’ve improved since then.”

“mm, sure you have,” he replies, his voice playful but laced with that tenderness you’ve come to recognize as his way of showing just how much he cares

the stars seem to blink in approval as silence settles comfortably between you. there’s no need for words when you can simply bask in the warmth of each other’s company. and that’s how it has always been. from childhood best friends to lovers, your connection has always been a steady undercurrent, strong and enduring, no matter what life throws at you.

heeseung is the boy who shared his snacks with you during recess, who helped you patch up your knees when you fell from your bike, and who wiped away your tears when the world felt too overwhelming. and in return, you’ve been his anchor, his constant. through scraped knees and awkward first crushes, through heartache and growing pains, you’ve stuck together, never wavering.

and now, as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, followed by another to your jaw, you feel that familiar flutter in your chest — the same one you felt the first time he’d shyly confessed his feelings to you under this very sky, so many years ago.

you were seventeen, the world still a mystery yet to unfold, and heeseung was by your side, as he always had been. the two of you had climbed up to the rooftop on a summer night, the heat of the day lingering in the air, but the breeze was cooler up there, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

heeseung sat beside you, quieter than usual, his hands fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. you glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, a tell-tale sign that something was weighing on his mind. but he hadn’t said anything yet, and you didn’t want to push. so, instead, you gazed up at the sky, letting the silence speak for itself.

minutes passed like this, and just when you thought maybe the moment would drift by like any other, heeseung took a deep breath. he turned toward you, his eyes wide and unsure but filled with a softness that had always been there, even when you were just kids.

"y/n..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves were fragile. "i... there’s something i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while."

you blinked, heart skipping a beat as you turned to face him fully. his face was bathed in the yellow light of the sun, and in that moment, you could see every bit of the boy you had grown up with — the one who used to steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, the one whose laughter was always the loudest when you were around, and the one who, in that moment, looked like he was about to step into something new.

heeseung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned closer, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. "i think... i’ve liked you for a long time. more than a friend." his words were tentative, a confession laced with uncertainty, but there was a conviction behind them that made your breath catch in your throat.

your heart raced as you processed his words, a warmth blossoming in your chest. this was heeseung — your best friend, your confidant — and yet, in that moment, you saw him differently, as if a veil had been lifted between you.

before you could find the words to respond, he leaned in, hesitating only for a moment, his breath mingling with yours. his lips brushed softly against your cheek, tentative and sweet, and your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. a second passed, and then he moved just slightly, placing a delicate kiss on your jaw. your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you felt something inside you shift, like pieces falling into place.

it was subtle, but it was everything.

he pulled back, eyes searching yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. "i’m not sure how to do this... but i know that i don’t want to lose you," he confessed, his voice barely louder than the wind rustling the trees below.

you smiled, feeling the same flutter in your chest you felt whenever heeseung was near — only now, it was different. now, you knew exactly what it was.

you reached out, taking his hand in yours, fingers lacing together as they had done so many times before. but this time, it felt new. it felt like a beginning. "you won’t lose me," you whispered back, your heart steady now. "we’ll figure this out... together."

the smile that broke across heeseung’s face then was brighter than the sun above, and as he leaned in to press his forehead against yours, you knew, without a doubt, that this was only the start of something even more beautiful between you.

back then, neither of you knew how to navigate the transition from best friends to something more. it had been awkward at first, filled with nervous laughter and shy touches. but heeseung, in his gentle way, had always known how to make you feel safe, how to make everything feel right.

his lips brush against your neck now, and a soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining like they have done a thousand times before. and yet, the simple act still sends warmth flooding through your veins, a sensation that never grows old.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but you know he hears it. he always does.

heeseung shifts slightly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorize every detail, every curve of your face. his gaze is intense, but not overwhelming, filled with a quiet determination that makes your heart stutter. “of course we are,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “we always have been, and we always will be.”

[songforeddiemunson]

Can you please do a Eddie X virgin reader where there has always been romance and they never acted on it until they confess when there watching a film and then a couple weeks after they make out then have soft sex

Thank you so much for the request!! I made some minor adjustments because that's just the route the narrative took me, but I hope you like it! I'm SO sorry this took so long, it's been a nutty few weeks.

NEXT SUMMER

Eddie Munson x Fem!Virgin!Reader (description vague apart from AFAB for inclusivity)

Summary: Eddie meets a cousin of the Wheelers who is visiting for the summer, and falls head over heels. The problem is, she lives in Chicago, and needs to return in the fall. Can they handle it?

Warnings/Tropes: longing with a bit of angst, fluffy affection, romantic soft smut, mild language, aftercare, mostly this is just really sweet.

Word Count: 5517

August 1990

You first caught Eddie’s eye on a late summer evening, standing under the twinkling lights of carnival rides at the county fair. It was the sort of cotton candy sky just moments before the sun dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of another august day. The droning cicadas were rapidly giving way to the cricket’s song, but all of those innocuous details faded away as Eddie watched you as you waited in line for the Scrambler, talking and laughing with your companion.

Eddie’s heart nearly leapt in his throat when he saw that the person you were speaking with was someone he actually knew. Nancy Wheeler! his brain screamed, and before he realized what he was doing, his feet were carrying him forward as if he was on autopilot, such was your magnetism.

Nancy caught sight of Eddie as he approached, and her face broke out into a broad grin. “Eddie!” she exclaimed with delight. “It’s so great to see you!” She hugged him as you stood by, a polite smile gracing your lips.

“Likewise, Wheeler,” Eddie replied fondly, and when his eyes slipped to you, your heart nearly ceased its rhythm. The breath was stolen from your lungs, and all you could do was stare wordlessly at the handsome man who evidently was a friend to Nancy.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was experiencing the same physical paralysis under your gaze.

“Eddie! You have to meet my little cousin!  She goes by Ivy, but her name is–”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, cutting Nancy off. Blood rushed to your cheeks in mortification.  “I am not little, I’m twenty years old now!’

Nancy giggled fondly. “Well sure, but you’ll always be little to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m only two years younger than you, but whatever.”

Eddie laughed, and your cheeks pinkened even more. “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie,” you said. You struggled to meet his eyes; it was like staring at the sun.

“It’s good to meet you too Ivy, if– if you don’t mind me calling you that.”

You smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Please do.”

And so you spent the rest of the evening with Eddie and Nancy, keeping things oh so casual but feeling like you might die every time he looked at you. You remained aloof because, after all, you didn’t even live in Hawkins, and eventually you’d have to return home to the city. 

When Eddie first learned that you would be returning to Chicago at the end of the summer, he was crestfallen but struggled to mask it.

“I’m sure Chicago is really cool,” he said with forced bravado. “Way cooler than boring old Hawkins.”

“Oh but I love coming here,” you breathed enthusiastically. “Chicago is cool and all, but this is so nice. I love smelling the mown grass, and being able to go to the drive-in movie theater, and all that great summertime stuff.” You gestured around you. “And the county fair! I love coming to the fair.”

Eddie smiled despite his growing sadness. “You make it sound pretty nice. But really it’s just cornfields…”

“...I love corn,” you countered.

“And strip malls…”

“.....strip malls always have video stores, and I love movies.” you said with a grin.

Nancy returned from buying a candy apple.

You pointed at her. “Candy apples! I can’t buy candy apples in Chicago.”

“Hmm?” she replied, confused, chewing. “I’m sure you can buy candle apples in Chicag–”

“Not from the fair though,” you interrupted. “They’re better from the fair.”

“Point taken,” Eddie said with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“I do still want to jump in a creek though,” you said wistfully.

“Gross, no. There are leeches,” Nancy said.

“Not in creeks,” Eddie laughed. “Ponds, maybe. But creeks are fine.”

And so the evening wound down. You and Eddie went back and forth over the virtues of city vs country living, but Eddie had to admit, you did have a way of making Hawkins sound pretty great. When it was time to part ways, Eddie desperately wanted to kiss you, so much that his lips nearly burned from the need, but he refrained. What would a girl like you ever see in a guy like him?

Two days later, on a late Sunday morning, where the summer sun shone relentlessly through a bluebird sky, Eddie picked up the phone and dialed the Wheeler’s number with a shaking hand.

Mike answered, sounding like he just woke up.

“Mehllo?” he mumbled by way of answer.

“Mike! It’s Eddie.”

“Munson?!” that seemed to wake him up. “Dude! It’s been forever!”

“Yeah man! How are you doing?”

“Oh things are good, I’m going off to college next month, and–”

“Is your cousin around? Ivy?” Eddie blurted anxiously, covering his face in embarrassment over the way he must have sounded. “Sorry man, it’s just that I need to ask her something. I would love to catch up with you though! Before you head to school; we should get together.”

“Yeah definitely,” Mike responded, unbothered. "We’ll catch up. I’ll go get Ivy….” 

Eddie heard the handset thump against whatever surface Mike set it upon, and heard him call your name. He faintly heard your voice respond, which made Eddie’s already hammering heart pick up its pace. More fumbling noises ended with a slightly breathless, “Hello? Eddie?”

“Hi Ivy,” he replied, and you thought maybe you could hear a smile in his voice. “Wanna go jump in a creek?”

Your summertime in Hawkins was coming to a close; in only a few days’ time you were due to return to Chicago and university. As the final days ticked away, a ball of sadness gradually grew in the pit of your stomach. It was the best summer ever, and you were sorry to see its end.

Since the night you met him at the fair, Eddie had taken you cliff jumping into the Bear Creek, something that simultaneously terrified and thrilled you, leaving you more exhilarated than you have felt in a long while. But when you weren’t jumping, you simply floated in the water, watching the dappled sun dance across its surface, loving life.

Eddie also took you to the drive-in theater. It wasn’t a date, since he didn’t technically ask you out like that, and Nancy and Mike also insisted on tagging along. You lined camping chairs up in front of the van and rolled down the windows with the sound up loud so you could all sit together. It was a lovely, balmy night of watching Total Recall, and you ate too many skittles while swatting mosquitoes. It was perfect.

And now summer was ending and it was time to go, and you couldn’t possibly want to return to Chicago less. Why did you have to meet Eddie now?

You sighed as you packed up your things, folding clothes and setting them in your suitcase slowly, unmotivated. Nancy perched on the side of your bed, watching.

“You seem really bummed out,” Nancy remarked.

“I guess I’m not looking forward to going home. I wish I could stay a bit longer.” you replied, not bothering to hide your low mood.

“Would this have anything to do with a certain long-haired boy that lives on the other side of town?” Nancy prodded. It’s not like you were hiding anything.

“That obvious? And he’s twenty-four, he’s not a boy.”

Nancy nodded, with a giggle. “Fair enough.”

“And…maybe. I don’t know. It’s not like he’s kissed me or asked me out properly....” You stalled your packing, and you folded and unfolded the same sweater over and over while you let your thoughts wander.

“But you want him to?” Nancy prodded gently after a moment.

You sighed. “Yeah, I do. It’s kind of all I can think about actually,” you added with a wistful chuckle.  “But what’s the point when I live all the way in Chicago the other nine months of the year?” You flopped down dramatically on the bed with a huff.

“Maybe you can talk on the phone and stuff throughout the year, and pick up where you left off next summer?”

“Long distance?” You allowed a glimmer of hope to creep in. “Do you think that could work?”

Nancy shrugged. “I did it with Jonathan when he moved to California. It’s not easy, but it can work.”

You hitched a deep sigh. “What if he doesn’t want to?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Nancy replied.

The sky was overcast as you loaded the last of your bags into the back of the Wheeler’s car, matching your mood. You hugged Mike and Karen goodbye; Ted and Nancy were going to ride with you to the train station. You scanned the empty suburban streets for Eddie, but he was nowhere to be seen, causing your heart to sink even lower.

Just as you were about to climb into the backseat, you heard a sound that pulled your attention toward the woods at the edge of the neighborhood. There was some rustling and you saw that the flora was jostling about. What the–

Eddie suddenly materialized from the trees, calling, “Wait!” as he trotted over toward you. Your heart reversed its previous downward trajectory with haste, and happiness soared through you so abruptly and completely that you thought you might fall over.

“I cut through the woods,” Eddie stated breathlessly. “I was afraid I wouldn’t make it.”

“Just in time,” you grinned.

Ted poked his head out of the car’s driver window. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”

“Oh– Okay, I won’t take long,” Eddie stammered slightly.  “I just wanted to say good bye and ask you…is it okay if I call you?”

You struggled to contain your delight at the suggestion. “Yes Eddie, I would really love that.” You pulled a small notepad from your purse, jotted your number down, and tore the scrap of paper out before handing it over. “Don’t lose this.”

Eddie had the fleeting thought that he would have your digits tattooed on his flesh to ensure their permanence. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Ted honked the horn, even though you were all standing right there.

“Okay, well I have to go. Call me tomorrow?”

Eddie nodded, his throat suddenly gone dry. “I will.”

As you sat down and closed the car door behind you, Ted wasted no time pulling away.  You twisted around in the seat to watch Eddie grow smaller as the distance increased. He raised a hand and waved shortly before you went around a bend, causing you to lose sight of him.

The temporary high of seeing Eddie was quickly supplanted by sadness. It was going to be a very long wait for next summer.

June 1991

Once you were clear of the train platform, your rolling suitcase and duffle bag appropriately situated, you bolted through the crowd as quickly as possible.

Nine long months you waited. Nine months of speaking on the phone for hours nearly every night, talking about everything, watching movies together, helping Eddie write his next D&D campaign, discussing books. You shared hopes, dreams, wishes, and desires. Nine months of longing. Nine months of imagining his lips on yours, his fingers gripping the meat of your thighs, picturing him doing things to you that you’d never done with anyone before. You were tired of waiting.

You never officially declared yourselves to each other, still hadn’t even kissed, so you couldn’t be completely sure that he felt the same way. But you had a pretty good idea; after all, would a guy spend that much time on the phone with you if he didn’t feel some kind of way? He said he was going to pick you up at the train station after all, so that had to count for something.

You were determined. Eddie would not slip through your fingers; this summer was going to change everything.

And there he was. As you entered the terminal with the other passengers, you spotted him immediately.  He was leaning up against the wall, torn tight jeans and black band tee, long chestnut curls cascading around his shoulders. He was beautiful. 

The way his face lit up when he spotted you could probably heal the world, if you could find a way to harness it. 

You let your bags drop to the ground as you ran to him, and he opened his arms to you as you collided with him, slamming him back against the wall. His arms slid up around your back and gripped you tightly, his breath fanned across one ear, setting all your senses alight, and you simply resided in his embrace and felt the object of your affection absolutely envelop you. Oh how you had waited for this.

You pulled away just enough to look at his face. He was undeniably very happy, eyes bright, smiling broadly, his dimple making itself known.

“Hey you,” he said.

“Hi you,” you replied.

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

“I've been counting the minutes,” you said. You thought maybe you were going to cry.

“Try seconds,” he whispered, opening his eyes wide as if he was revealing a scandalous secret. 

The rest of the bustling train station faded away. The voices and echoes were reduced to a muffled din, and all the people who hastened past you became less corporeal. As your eyes roamed his face, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He blinked and pulled away, and as soon as it started, the spell was broken.

He hastened over to your bags and grabbed hold of them, slinging your duffel over his shoulder and taking your rollbag in one hand. “Let’s go,” he said with a look over his shoulder, his hair bouncing as he hurried through the terminal with you in tow.  He slowed as he approached the doors to outside. “Uh, I’ll take you to the Wheeler’s to settle in, but I wondered…” He paused, his expression belying his own lack of confidence. He looked almost shy.  “I got an apartment about a month back, finally…a space of my own,” he continued. “I wondered if maybe you wanted to watch a movie later?”

“Eddie!” you breathed, excited. “That’s so great! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said with a small shrug. “No pressure, if you don’t want to. I just wanted to put it out there, no strings attached.”

“I would love to,” you beamed. 

“Do you want to know what movie I picked out?” Eddie asked.

“I really don’t care,” you replied, and you laughed together as you walked to the parking lot.

You waited anxiously for Eddie’s arrival later that evening.

“It’s a daaaate!” Mike sang as if he was still fourteen and not a freshman in college. Nancy slapped him on the arm.

“Don’t tease,” she admonished, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

“It is not a date!” you countered as you checked your reflection for the thousandth time. “Doesn’t someone have to say it’s a date for it to actually be a date?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Some things are just sort of….assumed.”

You and Nancy glared at him in tandem. “Uh, no thank you. Nobody should make assumptions about anything like that,” Nancy scolded.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah I mean, what if he just thinks I’m a great friend, and I go and spoil everything going in there thinking this is a date?”

Mike gestured toward you as you touched up your lip gloss. “Says the chick who has been fussing over her appearance obsessively for the last 45 minutes.”

“I’m just being prepared,” you said.

“For what?” Nancy said with a chuckle.

“Just in case it is a date. I never said I didn’t want it to be.”

Nancy laughed as Mike groaned in exasperation. Fortunately, you were saved from further discussion by the doorbell. You ran from the room before anyone could stop you, grabbing your shoulder bag on the way. 

You opened the door and revealed a slightly nervous looking Eddie, and he nearly stole your breath away.

Eddie was resplendent in a blue and black plaid button-up shirt with his black jeans and black converse sneakers. He had clearly made an effort to tame his hair, and his waves were soft and tidy. His breath caught when he saw you.

“H– hi,” he said with a grin.

“Hi yourself,” you said. You chanced a look over your shoulder, fearful of an audience. “Okay let’s go before Mike and Nancy get weird and interrogate us,” you said, grabbing Eddie by the hand and making him laugh while shutting the door behind you.  Eddie held his van door open for you before walking around the other side and starting up the engine. Was that aftershave he was wearing?

Butterflies exploded in your chest. Oh my god, this is a date, you thought to yourself elatedly.

Eddie’s place was nice, simple, and clean. He didn’t have much in the way of furniture or decor yet, but he had the basics, and it was all his.

You were halfway through Goodfellas– which was really good– and sipping on bud light bottles on opposite ends of the couch.  You were sitting with your legs curled underneath you, your left foot sticking out along the couch cushion.  Eddie reached over and gently laid a hand on your ankle, pulling your attention away from the film.

“I’m gonna grab another beer. You want anything?”

“Sure, you want me to pause it?”

“Nah, I’ve seen this twice already,” he said as he headed to the kitchen.

“Eddie!” you said, smiling. “Why didn’t you rent something you’ve never seen?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he called. “I love this movie.”

You picked up the remote and paused the film anyway.

“But it just came out on VHS!” you said, laughing. "How have you seen it multiple times already?"

He returned with two freshly opened beers and handed one to you. He sat down again, a little closer this time.

“What– you don’t watch movies over and over again every chance you get? Is that…like….not normal or something?” He smirked at his own sarcasm.

“Not that quickly I’m afraid,” you said, and he laughed out loud. 

“I guess I’m a bit of a fixator,” he said. “I fixate on things.”

“I suppose we all have things we fixate on,” you said.

“What do you fixate on?” He asked. He was leaning slightly in your direction. It made your heart speed up a little bit.

“Well lately,” you said, drawing out your syllables and pretending to think really hard about it. “Lately it’s been this guy.”

“Oooh,” Eddie said. “Tell me more.”

“Well, he looks a little rough around the edges, but it turns out that he’s the sweetest.”

“He is?” Eddie played along.

“Oh yes. And he has the biggest, most soulful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s like he’s always seeing the world in new and interesting ways. And don’t get me started on his lips…”

“What about his lips?” Eddie asked.

“They’re so full and plump, like fruit, and I want to nibble on them.”

Eddie huffed a small laugh. “You want to nibble on his lips?”

“Among other things,” you said, a little breathily.

As your eyes flicked down to his lips, he licked them unconsciously, and you knew everything was about to change.

Eddie leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and he raised his right hand to cup the back of your head, pulling you forward. You felt his breath fan across your cheek as he rubbed his nose against yours.

“What other things did you have in mind?” he murmured.

“I want him,” you said simply. “But I don’t know how he feels.”

“Hmm,” Eddie cooed. “I think it’s safe to say he wants you too.”

“He does?”

“Oh yes,” he breathed, and then he kissed you.

Your breathing hitched– it was finally happening.

You enjoyed the simple feeling of his beautiful lips against yours for a moment before you parted your lips to deepen the kiss. You slotted his bottom lip between your teeth and applied gentle pressure. Eddie’s quiet gasp did things to you.

You chuckled, and rose up on your knees before pressing your body firmly against his, the movie now forgotten.

Eddie broke away, beaming. “I thought you probably felt the same way, but I wasn’t sure, and I was afraid to make a move and fuck it all up–”

“Shut up and keep kissing me,” you said.

He did as he was told. He also dialed up the passion, and you kissed each other hungrily, pouring nine months of longing into your efforts. Your tongues danced together, your hands roamed the expanse of his back, and you slid one hand up and under his shirt to feel his flesh.

Eddie gasped at your touch, and pulled away. His pupils were blown wide from the excitement, and you imagined that yours might look the same. He cupped the side of your face in his hands, boring his eyes into yours.

“Are we together? Are you mine?” he asked, and your heart broke and soared with equal measure at the sheer sweet earnestness of him.

“Yes, Eddie,” was all you could muster before he was kissing you again. He tipped you back and gently laid you down across the sofa, allowing his hand to travel up the length of your torso, keeping things chaste, but only barely.

You laid together and kissed deeply for a time, until you decided you’d had enough.

“Eddie,” you said.  “T– take me to bed.” 

“Are you sure? That’s really what you want?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t hide your nerves, and he gently pinched your chin to tilt your head up. “You seem anxious,” he said softly.

“Well, I – I haven’t actually done it before.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly.

“I’ve done some stuff, a little hand stuff mostly, but never, uh– it. Sex. I’ve never had sex.”

Eddie smiled affectionately at your display of nerves. “Relax, babe. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do.”

“But I am ready,” you said, more assuredly.  “I really want to do this with you. I want you to be my first.”

Eddie searched your face for any further signs of nervousness or unease, but all he saw in your eyes now was conviction and honestly. You reached up a hand and laid it on his cheek.

“Nine months I’ve waited for this. I knew a long time ago that you were the one, Eddie. I’ve waited long enough.’

Eddie nodded. “Okay,” he said softly.

He moved to stand and gently scooped you up in his arms, making you giggle, and he carried you over to the bedroom. He kicked the door open with his foot, making you laugh some more, and laid you on his bed, which was clean if unmade. He leaned down and braced himself on either side of your body to kiss you.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me,” he said between kisses, and then stood back up to pull his shirt over his head. He did it in one fluid motion, letting his soft curls dance across his shoulders and back, and he was a sight to behold. You’d seen him with no shirt on last summer when he took you swimming, but somehow this was different.

“May I?” he asked, and paused with his fingers above the fly of your denim shorts. You nodded, and let Eddie loosen the buttons before pulling your shorts down along your legs and tossing them aside.

You smiled up at him as he loosened his own jeans and pushed them down before stepping out of them, leaving him clad in nothing but his boxers. He returned to the bed and laid next to you, gently trailing one palm up your body and pushing up your shirt, resting it at the bottom of your ribcage just below the underwire of your bra. Eddie resumed kissing you; it was something you were quite sure you would never tire of. He was amazing.

After a beat he pulled away to look down at you. “I need to get you ready,” he said softly. “I don’t want it to hurt.”

“Okay Eddie,” you replied.  He pulled your shirt over your head gently, and then moved one hand to your back to unclasp your bra. 

“You seem to have some experience with this,” you said, feeling a stab of self-consciousness.

Eddie paused. “A little. I’m not a virgin, but I’m hardly a Casanova or anything…”

“It’s okay, I don’t need to know.” you looked away. 

Eddie was not pleased with the loss of eye-contact, and he could sense your discomfort. 

“Hey,” he said softly, turning your face to his. “It’s only been a couple different girls. I really haven’t had much action for a guy my age, trust me. And nothing serious, ever.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re special. I want this– I want it to be special.”

You relaxed and smiled. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.”

“Okay then.”

He pulled your loosened bra off, leaving you in only your knickers. “If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

Your answering smile was cut short as he bent and placed a kiss on your nipple. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, before he sucked the little bud between his lips, setting all your senses alight. 

“Oh–that feels nice.” you sighed.

As Eddie suckled you, he slowly trailed his hand down the length of your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He paused at the elastic of your underwear, slipping one finger just under the thin white band, but continued no further. 

“You can– ah– you can touch me Eddie,” you managed between gasps.

With no further preamble, he slowly slid his hand into the delicate cotton, and his fingers found your heat. He removed his mouth from your nipple, leaving it feeling cool and bereft, before kissing you lasciviously as he slowly pushed a finger inside of you. You gasped, but as quickly as he had entered, he was gone again. He dipped in smoothly a second time, but then turned his attention to your clit, applying gentle pressure and circling it with his moistened finger.

You arched your back and moaned at the sensation. Your senses were heightened, your heart was racing, and you couldn’t believe that you were here, with Eddie, after all this time. You were delighted; you’d waited so long for this, and you were going to enjoy it.

Eddie slowly picked up the pace and pressure of his ministrations. You felt as if all the blood in your body was rushing to the space between your legs, and your body began to tremble. It felt good– damn good. You could hear the wet sounds of your arousal as his fingers picked up speed, and then, without warning, he slid one back inside of you. You moaned as he pumped you with one finger, sliding out, stroking the sensitive button of nerves, pushing back in. You were teetering on the edge of climax when, suddenly, he stopped. 

“Wha–” you said blearily, as Eddie padded over to his nightstand. 

“I’m just grabbing a rubber babe,” Eddie smiled, as he pulled open the drawer and held up a foil square.

“Ah, right.”

“Just want to be careful, ya know?” 

“Of course.”

Eddie paused to look at you, his face painted with adoration and concern. “You sure you’re still okay with this?”

You nodded emphatically. “Yeah, yes.”

Eddie looked angelic. Flushed with desire, his hair slightly mussed, lips reddened from kissing, his boxers tented by his arousal. He walked around the bed to stand at the end, and he gently pulled your underwear off, leaving you fully exposed for the first time. You had to fight to resist the urge to curl into yourself protectively. You weren’t the only naked one for long, however, as Eddie pushed his boxers down, and you were able to see all of him for the first time.

He was beautiful. He was perfect.

He deftly rolled the rubber along his length before he laid down next to you, and let his fingers return to your heat. He leaned down and kissed your neck while he worked you open, this time with two fingers. He slid them inside as he kissed your lips and licked into your mouth, and then he gently climbed on top, allowing you to rest your calves around his hips.

You felt his tip prod your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he breathed into your ear.

“Yes,” you said, and he captured your earlobe with his teeth as he slowly started to push in.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried softly. It felt like white fire had ignited where you were joined and traveled up your body, settling behind your eyes, and a kaleidoscope of sparks clouded your vision. You squeezed your eyes shut and ground your teeth together as you moaned through the sensation. It hurt, but it was a sort of pain you’d never felt before.

“God, babe,” Eddie gasped as another shallow, gentle thrust pulled him deeper. “This okay?”

It wasn’t okay exactly, it stung like hell, but it was okay because this was Eddie, and there was nobody else on the planet you were willing to experience this with.

“Uhhuh, yeah,” you panted. “I’m okay.”

Eddie sat back on his heels and grasped your thighs with his hands, pulling you flush against him and seating himself fully inside of you. His eyes met yours and he smiled at you adoringly as he began to move.

You moaned in sweet agony as each thrust ignited new fires within you, but before you realized what was happening, the pain began to give way to intense pleasure. Your gasps of pain grew to cries of ecstasy, and Eddie could feel you yield to him, could feel the resistance temper, and he delighted in watching the change come over you. White fire was replaced by pure bliss.

He lifted your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders, and picked up his pace. 

Eddie hugged your legs to his chest as he pumped, every thrust hitting deep, the mingled gasps and cries of your lovemaking growing in volume and timbre. You reached out a hand to touch his chest, but he was too far away. Eddie noticed this, and he released your legs to lean forward, bracing himself with his hands on either side of your shoulders, and he kissed you. It was damn hot, the passion of it all, making out so intensely that your teeth clattered together as he fucked you, all of your senses heightened and electrified.

You scratched at his back as your felt your climax building, causing his own pace to falter. Your cries of delight as you came caused his own orgasm to crash into him suddenly, and you both moaned as you rode it out together.

And then all was still.

You breathed together as you came down from the intense sensations you had just experienced, and you could feel Eddie’s heart beating in its cage, his chest pressed against yours. He could feel yours too.

After a moment, he got up, discarded the used condom, and slipped on his boxers, smiling down at your prone, naked body as he did so. “Was that okay? It didn’t hurt too much?”

You thought for a second. “It did hurt at first, that probably can’t be helped. But after a little while, it felt really good. Was I– was I any good?”

Eddie beamed. “Oh babe. You don’t have to ever worry about that. It was incredible.”  He headed to the bathroom, and returned shortly with a damp washcloth. He sat beside you and gently tended to your sore, sensitive area. The cool terrycloth was soothing, and he peppered your face with kisses, making you giggle. He tossed the washcloth aside and laid down with you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.

“Do you want to stay here with me? You can, if you want,” Eddie murmured into your hair. He sounded sleepy.

“Eddie, I want to be wherever you are,” you replied. You were feeling quite drowsy yourself.

“I don’t want the Wheelers to think I kidnapped you,” he said with a small chuckle.

“They know where I am, and we’re all adults, so I’m staying put.”

Eddie grinned. You had no way of knowing what was happening in his heart, but he wished he could transfer part of his joy to you, so you could feel even a fraction of his elation.

Eddie had no way of knowing that you were feeling exactly the same way. He also had no way of knowing that you were planning to transfer to Indiana State in the fall. In time, you would share your hearts fully with each other, but for the moment, you enjoyed just laying in his arms, and drifting off into blissful slumber.

Together. ♥

Thank you for reading! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of all fic writers. Please show us some love! :)

MASTERLIST

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Can't Miss Us.

Day #5 - Prompt: Reunion/Exes to Lovers | Word Count: 1979 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Post S4, Future Fic, Corroded Coffin Eddie, Hawkins Steve, It's Wedding Season, If They Didn't Have Their Besties, They'd Still Be Floundering Alone, Platonic Stobin, Eddie and Gareth are BFFs

He's in his pajamas. 

And they aren't even his good pajamas. They're just a ratty-ass pair of plaid sleep pants that Robin and him fight over ownership of, and a soft, but ragged, t-shirt that the logo wore off long, long ago, with holes all around the neck and under the arms. 

Steve was just running to the store for ice cream before they closed at midnight. He didn't think he'd see anyone, let alone Eddie Munson.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Maybe he will go unnoticed. He backs up out of the aisle, and runs his back straight into someone else's chest. He turns to say sorry, and it's Gareth.

"Steve?" Gareth questions, and he sounds just as surprised as Steve feels.

Eddie looks up at hearing Gareth speak. Steve sees the movement out of the corner of his eye, and there'll be no running from this. From them.

From him.

"Hey, I didn't know you guys were in town," Steve says, trying to play it way cooler than he'll ever feel about the situation. 

Eddie left, Steve stayed, and that was that. They don't hate each other or anything, but it has always been far easier for Steve to just keep a healthy amount of distance between them. 

"The wedding, you know," Gareth says, and Steve doesn't know. 

Is Eddie getting married? Is Gareth? 

Steve lives here. Surely he would have known if a big wedding was happening right under his nose. But he's heard nothing, from no one. Surely, Henderson would have let it slip if Eddie was coming home to get married.

"Oh, no, I didn't know," Steve says, "Congrats?" 

That shouldn't sound like a question, and he feels dumb, dumb, dumb. 

"Well don't congratulate me, I'm not getting married," Gareth says, then holds up his hand, "mainly because I already am." 

Steve nods, dumbly, not really listening to Gareth at all. But Eddie hasn't moved an inch to come closer. Apparently he's not going to. He's just standing there holding two tubs of orange sherbet. Eddie as frozen as the sherbet.

Time to get the fuck out of this awkward situation.

"Okay, well. Good to see you," Steve says, and leaves without the ice cream. 

Robin will understand. 

"He was just standing there staring at you like a creep?" 

"Well, it didn't seem creepy, as much as shocked to see that his ex-boyfriend is now apparently homeless. Look at what I'm wearing, Robin! Look!" he shouts, tugging on the collar of his shirt, and it rips a little further. 

Steve's spiraling. 

"Calm down. You look comfortable. It's midnight. Eddie's not dumb. He doesn't think this is your new style. He knows."

And Steve knows that. He does. But it's still terribly embarrassing. You don't want to go years without seeing the guy you'll probably never quite get over, and then be wearing your scrubbiest clothes.

It's tragic.

"He might be getting married," Steve says, dejected. That's the real problem here. Not his clothes. 

"In Hawkins? Get real. Eddie would never. He hates it here." 

He wouldn't. Steve knows that, too. Eddie hardly ever comes back, saying it's not his hometown, not anymore.

Steve understands. Hawkins kind of lost that right when they tried to burn him at the stake for something he didn't do. But Steve likes to think it's changed, at least a little, after the ones that did stay have worked to make changes.

Like Robin, and him. They stayed, and they aren't unhappy about it. 

"I'd say get some ice cream and calm down, but we don't have any," Robin snarks, and it's just what he needed, as he laughs and leans against her shoulder.

The next afternoon, they drive around in Robin's car, Steve slunk low in the passenger seat, checking every possible venue in town, trying to determine where this wedding might be. They check the churches. The best hotel that has a shoddy excuse for a ballroom. 

And in an act of desperation, the school.

Lover's Lake. 

But it's not in town. Can't be. There are no crowds anywhere.

However, out near the country club, they spot balloons stuck to a sign. 

Green/Goodwin Wedding

"See!" Robin crows, "It's Goodie! It's not Eddie. I told you so, dingus. Can we go home now?"

Steve nods. It does make Steve feel a little better, but Eddie still didn't tell him he was coming home. Still didn't want to see him while he was here, obviously. 

Definitely didn't expect Steve to be loitering around the Big Buy at closing time. 

And that kind of stings, just a little.

The whole "we'll still be friends" thing was a load of horseshit. They aren't anything to each other, not now.

"Home, Jeeves," Steve says.

"Ice cream first?" Robin questions.

Steve nods, "Only if you go in. I'm traumatized."

Robin looks over at him, "Well. I'll do it just this once, but don't think this gets you out of ice cream duty, dingus. I can drive. But I still don't want to."

"Deal," he says, because once Eddie's gone back to his life, things can go back to normal.

"Door!" Robin shouts from the bathroom, and Steve looks at his watch. It's after ten. He didn't even hear anyone knocking from his room. And it's a little late for anyone they know, unless Henderson is in town for this wedding, and just said nothing. 

Steve eyes the bat leaning near the hall tree, and then opens the door. 

It's Gareth.

"How'd you know where I lived?" Steve asks, skipping the hello.

"It's Hawkins. I just had to ask the first person I saw. Which was my mom," Gareth says, and Steve looks out beyond him. Checking to see if Eddie is lurking in the bushes. He doesn't seem to be.

Gareth just reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tape, "Here."

Steve takes it because he doesn't know what else to do.

"If you think it's what I think it is, we're at the club all night. We're out back. In a tent. Can't miss us."

"It's a wedding," Steve says, "one I wasn't invit-"

Gareth pulls an envelope out of his jacket pocket, "From Goodie."

Steve doesn't know what to say, but Gareth doesn't make him, because he just turns and leaves.

"What?" Robin asks, coming out, her hair up in a towel.

"It was Gareth. He gave me this," Steve says, holding up the cassette.

"Is it 1986?" Robin asks, and Steve laughs. The stereo still has a tape deck, but a CD would have been more convenient. "What do you think it is?"

Steve shrugs, but he knows. Down deep. He knows.

And he's right. It's a tape of songs that are very clearly about Steve, and by Eddie's voice, and the way it's matured as the tape went on, they've been laid down over many, many years. 

Steve doesn't know what to do with this information.

Eddie didn't give it to him, Eddie didn't come to him. 

Why does Steve have to be the one to stick his neck out?

Because, Eddie won't. Eddie will run for ten, twenty, forty more years. 

And these songs? They say that he regrets it. That he doesn't want to have ever done it in the first place. 

So. Steve pulls a suit out of the closet, and demands that Robin put on a dress, any dress, or slacks, anything she owns other than her yummy sushi pajamas.

She does. They both do. 

And Robin drives.

And Steve frets, worrying the tape case in his hands, the whole way.

Gareth wasn't lying. They couldn't miss the tent. It's a beacon in the night. Edged up to the woods, and it's a testament to what they all did, that that's a safe thing to do, here in Hawkins. Steve just hangs back, and looks. Sees the blur of people moving around, dancing, having fun. 

The music is decidedly wedding reception, and not Corroded Coffin. 

But Steve doesn't see Eddie.

"I don't see him," Steve says, not taking his eyes off the tent to look at Robin. She'll tell him if she sees him first. "Do you think-"

"I'm right here," Eddie says from behind them, and Steve turns. Slowly.

Robin pauses, for just a second, and then bolts for the tent, like a little traitor. Leaving him alone, staring Eddie down in the near dark. 

Steve fishes the tape out of his jacket pocket, and holds it out for Eddie to see. Eddie takes it, but doesn't look shocked, or betrayed, or anything really. Until he cracks a smile.

"Kid's a meddling little shit," Eddie says, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Was he wrong?" Steve asks.

"No," Eddie answers, "but he rarely is. Which is part of the problem. It's annoying."

"Well, I have Robin. So I get it," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"You want to go to the tent? I think it's about time for Cotton Eye Joe," Eddie teases.

"Oh, well, in that case…" Steve laughs, because seeing Eddie do that Cotton Eye Joe dance would be worth it.

"Or, we have rooms blocked off in the lodge," Eddie offers.

Steve raises an eyebrow, and Eddie keeps talking, "Meeting rooms. Sitting rooms. Not bedrooms," Eddie rambles, "I mean, we do have those. But I meant the other options."

Steve laughs, because he's still Eddie. He wasn't sure he would be, but yeah, this is Eddie. Just polished up a little, not as rough around all the edges.

Grown up. 

"Okay, Munson. Take me to one of your non-bedroom rooms," Steve teases, and Eddie lights up, offering Steve his elbow. It's goofy, and silly, but Steve slides his arms through the loop of Eddie's elbow, letting himself be led. 

Eddie stops at the open bar, gets them both a drink and a huge tray of the leftover passed appetizers. And they sit in the room that the guys clearly got dressed in. There are garment bags, and street clothes, and stuff on every surface. Eddie scoots a bunch of it down the bar, making room for the two of them.

"Sorry, it's a mess in here," Eddie says, "we weren't expecting company."

"I don't think I count as company," Steve says softly, picking up what looks like a fancy little pig-in-a-blanket and popping it in his mouth. Even cold, it's pretty damn good. 

Maybe he's just hungry.

They make small talk. Catching up, skirting the real reason they are both sitting here, together. The tape. The songs.

They eventually fall into a lull, and Steve doesn't feel like he needs to fill the silence. They can just sit together, that's okay. Eddie still feels comfortable, even after all these years, those miles, this distance.

He's still Eddie. And Steve's still Steve. 

"They are about you, you know?" Eddie asks, and Steve knows. "The songs."

"I know," Steve admits. 

"But they were private, so they didn't make any albums," Eddie says, "not because I didn't want you to hear them. I just didn't want anyone else to hear them."

Steve puts his hand on Eddie's forearm, and squeezes, "I get it."

"I have missed you, you know? Leaving you? The hardest thing I've ever done."

"Harder than fighting off demobats?" Steve teases. They can do that now. Time has passed, and enough of it, that it's in the past. Which is wild. He wasn't sure that'd ever be true.

"Way harder," Eddie says, smiling a shy smile.

"Staying was hard, too," Steve admits, softly.

Eddie nods, leaning his face down, until it rests on Steve's upper arm, Eddie rubbing against him, like a cat. Steve had almost forgotten that was a thing he'd do. 

His chest constricts, squeezing.

He wants Eddie. All of him. Everything he can get, for however long.

"So, about those bedrooms…" Steve trails off, smiling as Eddie meets his eyes, smiling right back.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

[its-warm-in-here]

Teeth

Oh hell, I'm writing again. Let's see if this has legs, maybe I'll write a follow-up.

Alastor x !DeerDemon! Reader

Warnings: imbalance of power, cannibalism

The fact that he’s humming is the opposite of comforting. 

Alastor’s room was, even compared to the rest of the hotel, bizarre. The whole foyer resembles a hunting lodge, complete with roaring hearth, mounted antlers and furniture made of bone. Nervous, you shift from hoof to hoof in the entryway, tail straight up and hair on end. If you crossed this precipes, you’d be in the lion's den. No matter how much he resembled other cervid sinners. This demon had killed and devoured countless others, and based on his furnishing, he had a particular fondness for deer. Instead of ending in a wall or window, the back of the room gives way to another realm.  Like someone had punched a forest into the inbetween space of the hotel walls. You wonder how far back it went, or if there was even an end. 

A staticky wail from the gramophone snapped you back to reality. The sound gave way to easy jazz and Alastor turned the music down a bit, that ever-present smile playing on his wide mouth. “No need to be shy, my deer. This shouldn't take more than a moment.” With a lip worry, you hesitate. Sure you’d said yes to this, but you’d expected a quick bite, just a sample, not whatever this performance was. Was he trying to put you at ease? Because he’s failing spectacularly. “Besides, it's quite rude to linger in doorways. Especially when you’ve already been invited in.” 

With one last breath, you step into the room. Its distinctly cooler than the hallway even with the fireplace. It is probably due to having a literal forest embedded into it, but it makes you shiver. Still humming, Alastor loops around, shutting the door behind you and ushering you further into his abode with a hand at your waist. “I just...have never done anything like this before,” you mumble. He seats you at one of the two chairs. You’re pretty sure that the leather is elk hide. You hope it is an elk at least. Elks are assholes. 

“Neither have I. Invigorating, isn't it?” Alastor chirps. Once more, he circles around, stripping that ever present, pinstripe coat off and draping it over the opposite seat. It catches you off guard, you’ve never seen him without it. Hell, you doubt that anyone in the whole hotel had ever seen him without it. Though, Alastor is hardly vulnerable. If anything, you’re even more unsettled than before. As if this was a relaxing experience for him. It's just a quick glance, just before he turns to face you, but you swear you spot the tuft of a red tail at the top of his trousers. That makes your stomach twist. Since arriving in the Pride Circle, not once could you have ever considered consuming another conscious being, let alone one that was alive and in the same vein of sinner. 

Yet, Alastor seemed to revel in it.

Bouncing your knees, your hooves send a steady tapping rhythm through the room. “I don't know if I'd use those words exactly.” 

“No need to be nervous. Im not set to devour you whole,” his hand comes to rest over your clasped fingers. The bouncing halts. “Never in all my time in Hell have I seen a sinner with quite an impressive regenerative ability. A little nip here-” fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, exposing the junction where your neck met your shoulder, “-will heal up in an instant.” 

You rub the skin he’s touched, finally meeting those red eyes of his. “There’s a bit of a difference from getting hit by a drunk driver, peeling myself up like road kill and letting an overlord munch on me though.” Alastor’s eyes flash. This activity excited him far more than it should in your humble opinion. 

“Well, if its boundaries that worry you, we can always make a deal instead, hm?” he leers, knowing full well that the deal might give some ground rules for whatever this fucked up relationship was, but would give him even more sway over you. 

Jerking back, you jab him in the chest, “We’re starting with one bite. Don't push your luck, Alastor.” 

He smiles, stands, then shrugs, “Well, let's get started then.” 

With a huff, you undo the top few buttons of your dress shirt and half yank off the sleeve, wanting to avoid any unnecessary mess. Cool hands close over your shoulders and the skin to skin contact makes you jump. For someone who hated being touched, Alastor sure loved to make others uncomfortable using his own. There’s a flash of teeth and you feel the fringe of his hair at your cheek, then a moment of hesitation. It's in that you realize he’s smelling you. Anyone else this could be intimate, romantic even, but the underlying motivations are all the wrong kind of carnal. “If we're doing this can we--” 

Alastor bites down, sharp teeth cutting deep into the meat of your shoulder. It's a sharp pain and a cry builds in your throat. You press your palms flat to his chest, ready to heave the Radio Demon off with all your strength. There's a swift pull at your flesh. You try to scream, letting the pain out, but Alastor’s hand closes over your mouth, muffling the cry. Scrambling  further back in the chair, you try to cover the new wound, but Alastor still has you in a vice grip. His eyes are gently closed as he chews, small noises of pleasure like someone enjoying the first bite of a luxurious meal. God, it makes your stomach turn. The sheer amount of delight he was getting from literally eating you alive. 

Still you can't help but wonder... How... do you taste? 

The vial thought is pushed to the side the moment Alastor leaned in for seconds. “Whoa, hey!” you shove back, “One bite, we said one!” His teeth are already primed against your shoulder, pricking torn flesh, but he retreats, smug smile spread firmly in place. Best you can, you glance at your shoulder. It's a jagged bite, stretching from the line of your collarbone to the top of your trapezius exposing muscles and tendons. But not deep enough to reach bone. The wide gash is already beginning to knit itself together and the pain is fading with it. Letting out a breath, you fall back in the chair.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Alastor teases, tracing his thumb over the edge of the wound, threatening to jab the digit in. You swat his hand away and shoot a glare up at him. With a huff, you yank the sleeve back up and do your best to ignore the self-satisfied overlord. 

“That hurt, you know,” you snap, righting your outfit.  

“I barely broke skin!” Alastor insists with a sing-song voice, “And I doubt my nibble was much worse than that oncoming truck.” His tongue traces the line of his teeth. “That was quite a toothsome treat, my deer. Maybe next time we could make a full meal of it.” 

“Next time...” your mind wanders to how much that could hurt and if there even should be a next time. The words are under your breath but his ears prick up at the utterance. 

“If you’re interested in continuing with this little arrangement, that is,” he interjects.”But what kind of a deal maker would I be if I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.” Right! The whole reason you’d agreed to this whole verbal agreement in the first place. You hop to your feet, a playful smile spreading over your face. “So what’ll it be? Now, don't expect much from our little understanding, but I'm a man of my word. One simple request that is in my power, is yours.” Alastor gives his microphone/cane a twirl before his gaze narrows, testing you.

Lots of things spring to mind. A bigger room at the hotel. A dance. Something to prank Angel Dust with. All the while you ponder, Alastor stoops, bending at the waist to make sure you knew you were being watched. A mistake on his part. Staring him dead in the face, you match his cheshire cat grin. “That's because I did this as a favor. I don’t need anything.” 

“Come now, I’m offering this as a courtesy.” 

“Afraid I'd hold something over you, Alastor?” you tease. He’s dangerously close now. Smug. Your lips twitch, but your smile stays glued. The miniscule respect he had in this moment would evaporate the moment it fell. “Well, I suppose there is one tiny thing I do want.” 

Your hands dart to the top of his head, and fingers close over his ears. They are stiff but bend with a bit of pressure, and the fur is soft even as it bristles at your touch. For a moment, a breath is held and Alastor does not react, frozen in place. Then the world around shifts. Darkness closes in tight and any breath leaves the room. The gramaphon's soft music swells to an ungodly static. The corners of Alastor’s mouth twitch into an impossibly broad, neon grin, and the air around you buzzes with raw energy. The red of his eyes deepen to pitch black aside from two pinpricks of dial shaped irises. He does not move, but his shadow shifts, reshaping into something awful on the wall behind. In this moment he could snuff out your hellish existence. 

Oh, to wield such power. 

And you let go. Arms go up in surrender and you retreat a few steps. “And we're even.” 

Just like that, the room snaps back. The strange cold ebbs away as pine and fire rush back into your nostrils. Your host relaxes, stepping back towards the exit and leveling a judging eye. It's a quick flourish, and his jacket is back in place. All the walls are back up. Alastor's face turns down just a touch before settling to a sly smirk and then he bends in a half bow. Not low enough to make you feel respected, but enough to put an end to the interaction. Your smile turns to pride as you mime the gesture. “That was surprisingly pleasant, all things considered,” you muse as you strut past him. Alastor may have finally gotten a chunk off you, that’d been something he’d been craving since you’d arrived in this place. 

But you’d gotten something no one else ever had and lived. 

Before you can step out of the room, Alastor’s hand closes over your forearm and you freeze. Terror courses through your veins. While there was no killing in the hotel, that didn't mean a powerful overlord couldn’t trap you in some pocket-torture dimension for overstepping. “I would suggest keeping this little exchange between us, hmm?” Nails bite into the meat of your arm, almost as sharp as his teeth. That grin is ever present, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. A threat. 

You chew the inside of your cheek. Sure Charlie and Vaggie allowed for a few vices in the hotel, but this would probably be at the bottom of their list for team building activities. “Understood,” you say with a curt nod. 

Alastor’s fingers drum once and he releases you. “Lovely,” the charismatic note bounces back into his voice, “Now, what do you say to some etouffee? It might be a bit early in the day but after that little appetizer, I’m positively ravenous for something more substantial.” With that, he sweeps past you into the hall.

[steddieas-shegoes]

hiiii could i possibly request something with the good ol' "steve is insecure with his place in the group/his intelligence/his worth compared to the rest of the party" cliche with reassurances in the form of copious amounts of cuddles and kisses and pet names from eddie? you're so great for doing these and i'm eagerly waiting for the next chapter of call me sunshine <3

Not Steve "self-doubt" Harrington convincing himself he can't be loved because he doesn't fit in or provide "useful" things to the group!!! I am lowkey hoping someone maybe adds to make this explicit because something about them having to be quiet in a tent just sounds like it has potential idk. Eddie is so in love in this it makes me SICK. - Mickala ❤️ (@scoops-stevie)

----------------------------------------------------

When Steve suggested that they do something fun together for the weekend, he meant maybe going into the city or renting a lake house maybe.

He definitely didn’t mean camping.

Outdoor camping was Dustin’s idea, and all the kids had agreed quickly. Robin bowed out the moment she could come up with a decent excuse and he could tell that Eddie wanted to do the same but wouldn’t abandon him.

Hopefully.

Eddie had quietly offered to steal another RV, but Steve turned it down.

“You just started getting back in the good graces of most of the town, let’s not give them a reason to hate you again.”

So they packed up the van with all the camping supplies they collectively had: three tents (one for the girls, one for the boys, one for Steve and Eddie), a couple coolers full of drinks and food, a few chairs, flashlights, sleeping bags, and clothes.

Steve wasn’t great at reading maps, so he let Dustin ride passenger to help Eddie find where they were going.

He sat with the girls, mostly because he liked the way they just ignored everyone and everything and talked amongst each other about mundane things.

He may not always understand what they’re talking about, but he liked being a part of it.

He almost never understood what they were talking about actually.

But it was better than having everything the boys were talking about go right over his head.

Especially when they started arguing about stuff and talked so fast that Steve had no chance of keeping up.

Steve just kind of watched as everyone around him had conversations.

He tried not to think about how everyone was existing without him in a way.

He was here, but he wasn’t needed.

—-----------------------

When they arrived at the campsite, it was even more secluded than they thought it would be.

It was also only a couple hours until sunset and they all had to make sure the tents were set up properly before it was too dark to see.

Steve got started with his tent while Eddie helped the girls. Max still had limited movement in her wrists so she was given the task of setting the chairs around the fire pit that Lucas and Mike had formed.

Steve was struggling.

He’d only put up one tent before, and it was at summer camp where the counselor and four other boys had been helping. In all honesty, he’d pretty much managed to watch the whole time instead of help.

He would manage to get part of it up, but it would fall apart when he tried to do the other side. He kept losing the pieces to keep it tied down to the ground.

He was losing against an inanimate object.

Everyone else was doing fine; Joking and laughing and finishing up their tasks like they didn’t have to put all their focus into one thing at a time.

El wordlessly started helping him, and he knew she wasn’t judging him, but he couldn’t help the small part of his brain that was telling him that she thought he was stupid.

He was quiet for the rest of the evening.

They cooked hot dogs over the fire that Will started, then made s’mores since El had never had them before.

He watched and listened, smiled when everyone else was.

But he felt overcome with sadness that he just didn’t belong here.

He was the babysitter, he took care of them, and drove them around, and helped them survive alternate dimension monsters.

He didn’t know how to talk to them about the stuff they liked, or play their stupid dragon game. He could barely keep up with half the things they said.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna turn in for the night,” he said suddenly, interrupting something Mike had been saying to everyone.

Everyone looked at him with sad looks, but Eddie looked concerned.

“You okay? Is it a headache?” He asked.

Damn, he hadn’t even thought of a good excuse. At least Eddie was providing him one for free.

“Yeah, just a little one. I think if I sleep now it’ll be fine by morning.”

The taste of the lie in his mouth made his lip curl slightly. The words “friends don’t lie” replayed in his brain as he stood up and made his way to his tent at the far end of their setup.

No one tried to stop him, but he could feel their eyes on him as he unzipped his tent and then zipped it back up behind him.

They’d set up lamps inside each tent so that they could reserve flashlights for bathroom trips or emergencies. His was the kind you can dim, so he did. He took off his shoes and jeans, changing into the t-shirt he brought from home that was probably Eddie’s now that he was looking closer at it.

He’d brought his pillow from home because he couldn’t possibly sleep flat on the ground, and Eddie had brought one of his own because he still had some back pains when he slept wrong.

He curled up in his sleeping bag, holding Eddie’s pillow against his chest.

He felt a tear start to run down his face without his permission, not even sure why he was crying right now.

He heard the zipper and tried to shut his eyes quickly, hide his face in the pillow in hopes that Eddie would think he was really asleep.

“Hey darlin’. Mind if I join?” Eddie whispered.

Steve couldn’t ignore him, so he nodded and started to move the pillow from his chest and face.

“Oh, sweetheart. Why are you crying?”

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to explain.

“Can I hold you?”

Steve let out a sob, and Eddie didn’t wait for him to answer.

He was laying down next to Steve, pulling him against his chest and running his hands up and down his back.

“Is it a migraine? Do you need me to get some ice from the cooler? Or medicine from the van?”

“No, not a migraine.”

“Okay. Is it just a bad night?”

Steve couldn’t help the fondness he felt at that.

Eddie was so understanding, and incredible, and perfect. Steve didn’t deserve him just like he didn’t deserve the rest of these people.

“Stevie, it’s okay to have a bad night. Sometimes they just happen, right? That’s what you always tell me.”

Eddie’s hand had found its way to Steve’s hair, slowly running through the strands, occasionally looping the ends around a finger.

It sent chills down Steve’s spine when his fingers brushed against his neck so gently.

“I just don’t belong here.”

“I’ll admit the outdoors is not really my favorite place either, but-”

“No, not. Not the outdoors. Here. With everyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Eddie’s hand had frozen in his hair and on his back.

“I’m not smart. I’m not good at putting things together or fixing things. I can’t even be in most of their conversations. They keep me around because they don’t know how to get rid of me. I mean, they don’t even need a babysitter anymore!”

Steve’s tears were dripping onto Eddie’s shirt, making a mess.

Another reason he shouldn’t be around.

Eddie tilted his face up, nothing but love in his eyes.

“I want you to listen to me. You are needed in this group. You are wanted in this group. You are loved in this group. Do you really think a bunch of teenagers would be wasting a weekend camping with you when they could be going to the movies or the arcade or getting into trouble?”

Steve didn’t answer, but he sniffled as he watched Eddie get more passionate.

“And it is absolute bullshit that you’re not smart. How many times have you been the one to figure out something, whether it was during Upside Down shit or not? How many times have you been the one with common sense? You’re more than a babysitter, my love. You’ve always been more than that to all of them.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, Steve soaking in Eddie’s words as Eddie continued to comfort him in the way he needed.

“I just feel like I need to be more useful. I don’t want them to get bored or annoyed because I can’t be part of their world,” he finally said, his voice shaking.

“Angel, they love you for who you are. Just like I love you for who you are. You fit where you fit because that’s what the group needs. They don’t need another Dustin to always make connections because of one obscure fact relating to something he read once when he was nine. They don’t need another El to fight their battles.They need the Steve who is going to go along with whatever they want to do so he can protect them if and when things go wrong. They need the Steve who is always there to support them even with the most mundane things.”

“I couldn’t even set up the tent by myself.”

“None of us could. I had help. That’s why I told El to help you. None of us can do stuff alone, love. You’re putting expectations on yourself that no one else is putting on you.”

Steve shuddered.

He’d been pretty famous for doing that for years.

Once his parents stopped caring at all, he started caring too much.

And now he expected more of himself than anyone else ever would.

He’d set himself up to fail. At least in his own eyes.

“Did that finally get into that concussed brain of yours?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his tone.

Steve playfully slapped his chest and hid his face against his tear-soaked shirt.

“I guess maybe it did. A little,” he said.

“Good. You know I love you more than the stars, right?”

“And the moon?”

“And the galaxies in space.”

Steve settled further against Eddie’s side.

“I love you, too,” he sighed out, feeling content for probably the first time this entire trip.

In the morning, he’d start over, let his brain rest. He’d make everyone breakfast and then help them all make sure they were prepared for their short hike. He’d pack them sandwiches and extra water bottles in case they ended up walking further than they planned. And when they all got back to the campsite the next night, he’d make s’mores with them.

He’d ignore the voice telling him that he wasn’t enough for any of them, and he’d be enough for himself.

[krispdreemurr]

At first, she's not sure she's even hearing the notes.

They're distant and quiet. Even with her earbuds out, she has to strain to hear anything at all. The notes keep faltering before she can be sure what she's listening to.

She sets aside her notebook and moves out into the hall.

As she starts the walk to the dining room, she can hear them more clearly. It's definitely the piano in the side room, she's sure on that now. But the song...

The song is just the first few notes and chords, again and again, played clumsily and haltingly. There's jarring dissonant edges, and the rhythm is unsteady.

If the tune weren't so familiar, she'd have no idea at all.

(In front of her, or with family, they'd play things she knew - classical music, adaptations of songs from video games or Asriel's anime, more than a few Rickrolls.)

(It was only when they were alone that they'd play the same few songs, simpler melodies that she never heard anywhere else before or after.)

She reaches the doorway, gazing in through the open door.

The room is dimly lit, the moonlight through the windows providing most of the illumination. They're framed against an open window, a silhouette bent over the piano. She watches, silent, as they drag their hand down the keys, press down too hard and get a jarring burst of sound.

She remembers how they used to play. Fluid, graceful. It was the only time she ever really saw them comfortable in their own skin.

That's gone, now.

"Kris...?" she asks softly, stepping through the door.

The next part, at least, is familiar. They stare at her, wide-eyed, looking half-panicked. Hands frozen.

Despite herself, she tries to smile, glancing at the open window. "You know, I'm pretty sure dad gave you a spare key."

They stare a moment more, then laugh, hoarse and tired. Some of the tension bleeds. "Yeah, but breaking in through the window is cooler."

"You're just lucky I forgot how to set up the alarm system..." She steps closer, hooves clicking on hardwood. "It's one AM, Kris. Why are you here? Not that, um, you can't visit, just--"

There's a long silence, where they just stare at their hands on the keys. They're shaking, she realizes.

"Sorry," they say finally. "It was a stupid idea. I just--miss it. And the hospital is closed to visitors. I just wanted to, to at least try... Even if I know I can't any more, not like this." Another ragged laugh. This one has less humor. "Sorry. I'll go."

She looks at them a few moments more.

Maybe she should push more. Ask them what they mean by "like this", demand explanations for why they've been so weird lately, reprimand them for breaking in. She remembers them nine years old and coughing without end, begging her not to tell their mom and dad. She remembers how they drew away in the days after the accident, and how quiet they've been ever since. She knows they shut down, hide, conceal themself. She knows.

But she's tired too, and if she pushes they'll run, and she's lost so much already.

"Can I listen?" she says instead.

They blink, once, then shrug. "Sure, yeah... You wanna sit outside like old times? Think I can handle an audience for the world's worst concert, but..."

"No, I'd rather stay." She goes to settle down in the corner, folding her legs. "I never got to see you play much back then."

"Well, you're not going to see much today," they say dryly.

Their fingers linger a moment more, shuffling uncertainly and stiffly, trying to find purchase--

And then they play.

It's still halting and awkward, marred by misplaced notes and stilted pauses. It's nothing like it was, back when they were something not quite like friends and not quite like family.

But still, still--

Still she closes her eyes, and she listens once again.

[moonyasnow]

Dancing in the Dark.

PROMPT : Dancing in the dark with him

CHARACTER(S) : Idia

TYPE : short fic (~1.3k words)

CONTENT: nerd references ahoy, Reader implied to be shorter than 180cm, Apparently the Phantom Bride event takes place after Book 6 in this one

After such a close brush with death, even knowing you'd made it in time and he was safe, you still felt anxious not being able to see Idia in the dining-hall turned Wedding venue as the band started up a song meant for dance.

With the newlyweds twirling happily in the air behind you, you ventured out into the dark halls of NRC to find him...

Idia had never breathed a bigger sigh of relief in his life…he'd just been saved from a 100% certain one-hit-kill spell, with barely seconds to spare. Talk about clutch.

The bride got her groom and her happily ever after, sure, yay, whatever— he was just glad it wasn't him. At least this groom wouldn't be on the literal chopping block. He'd already done that 500 years earlier, after all.

…But Idia was still stuck in those fancy duds. Even if the other guys said he looked cool or whatevs he just couldn't see it.

He wandered out of the party as quick as he could, untying his hair to let it flow free and cloak him once more. In every mirror he passed all he saw was fire, sharp teeth, and glowing yellow eyes— accentuated by deep eyebags too. He wasn't generic-looking enough to be an NPC, but not cool enough to be the MC either. Was he the villain, then? He stopped to gaze at the pool-like surface of a mirror in the dark hallway. Sounded cooler than NPC, at least… But he doubted he was that cool. He was probs the throwaway 2nd villain in some tactical JRPG— not remembered as fondly as the introductory first boss, not as interesting as the 3d or those that followed. For every second that passed his scowl deepened in the mirror to match his thoughts.

'Healthy, lustrous skin, lidded eyes, a charming smile…'

LOLOLOLOL Eliza was INSANE if she thought ANY of that applied to him.

The smile he'd forced his face into looked all kinds of wrong in his eyes.

He sighed. Then he heard footsteps and his pulse sped up to what he knew Ortho would call 'very unhealthy levels for only having someone walk past him'.

Standing in the dark corner on the hallway with his hair acting like a glow-in-the-dark lamp, he, and his mortified expression, weren't that hard to spot. He didn't need to be able to see your face to know you were probably smiling. 'Because I look like the free clothing option in those normie cash-grab phone ""VNs""' he thought. But he knew from experience that wasn't the case when it came to you. You were even weirder than him, fwee-hee-hee… Ah, and now he was remembering how you'd stared at him the first time you heard his laugh, how he was expecting you to make fun of him but you just called his laugh 'nice'… And now his hair had started turning pink.

Great. /s

“I wondered where you went.” He was never gonna admit the sound of your voice made his heart race a little. There was a reason he always asked Ortho to leave the two of you alone when you hung out. If you really did find out he thinks he could just die on the spot.

"Away from the party, DUH." He rolled his eyes. You laughed at that. "Ha-ha, go ahead; laugh at my misery."

"No, no, it's just…it's so very like you."

"Uh…yyyup. Shut-in's gonna shut-in." He rubbed at his arm awkwardly. Yet even in the dark you recognized the small smile adorning his face.

You loved that expression of his…you could simply stare at it for hours. Yet you knew if you were to ever tell him that, he might stop talking to you for a week out of sheer inability to handle it. So for as much as you would love to compliment him— felt the urge tugging at you at every second you were with him— you refrained.

"You…you're beautiful…"

…Except for now, apparently. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. "I-I'm sorry!" The look on his face was like a cat sadly watching you take away its food bowl. "Not that I didn't mean it! I did!" There came another flare at the tips of his hair, coloring a deeper shade of pink. "I just…I know compliments can be difficult for you, and I—"

"N—np…" his flushed face begged to differ.

Silence filled the space between you. He thought it was awkward as all hell. You found it comforting, using it to work up the courage to ask him what you'd set out to.

"They're dancing right now, in the wedding hall. And I was wondering if…"

"No thanks— I do NOT want some rando to know how sweaty my hands are. I'd just step on their toes anyway."

"Oh, that's..." your face fell in disappointment.

[ Idia.exe is loading... ]

...

WAIT WAIT WAIT THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT HOLD ON ABORT, ABORT—

"I—" he could feel himself choking, words refusing to unclog from his throat. Here you were, his crush, his #1 Oshi if you will, and you wanted to dance. With HIM. EVEN AFTER HE MENTIONED HIS SWEATY PALMS (Sevens whyyyyyy did he do that)

"…If you don't want to I—"

He suddenly regretted he'd never clicked on those random dance videos he sometimes got recommended. And not taking Ortho's advice of playing one of those dancing games 'for his health'.

"I-I'd just suck at it— I'd moodkill. Big time."

"I don't mind. I'm not a very good dancer either…I've actually never done it before. So if anything, we'd both suck.” you said, cheeks flushed a gentle red he could just barely make out in the darkness.

He considered pretending he didn't see it for a moment; couldn't let himself get his hopes up.

This was probably just some prank, and the second he said 'sure' a laugh-track was gonna start playing and someone was gonna pop out and laugh and put an arm around his shoulder and gesture to some hidden camera somewhere—

"Idia?"

He'd been so stuck in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed you trying to talk to him. And now you'd gotten closer to him. WAY TOO CLOSE—

"EEP!"

All those things Eliza had said: "Bright, shimmering hair! Lips so arresting that you just have to kiss them!"

They'd be much more fitting applied to you, and not him. If it wasn't for the whole '180cm' requirement thing, he can't imagine you NOT being the one picked. It should've been you. Not because he wanted you gone or anything, obvs! You were just…out of this world kinda beautiful.

Out of his league, too.

Obvs.

That of course someone else was gonna come steal you away eventually, so why even hope? Why even try—

"It will always be a zero-percent chance as long as you believe it impossible and refuse to act."

Those words tore at the flesh of his chest like a word knife in that high-school murder trial game franchise he liked. Why were they showing up in his head now, like some kind of cutscene? This was sounding like that part in the 3d act where the hero's been demoralized and remembers the words of their fallen mentor to give them enough motivation to go in and K.O. the BBEG.

"S-so…" you said, nervously looking up at him through your lashes. "Do you want to dance with me?" your voice sounded so shaky, devoid of your usual confidence. You sounded almost scared. Kinda like him. (was this what he always looked like through other people's eyes?)

Maybe... Maybe it was ok to listen to that advice. Just this once. Just a tiny bit.

"S-sure..."

Awkwardly, he held his hand out. And you smiled.

He didn't think he was LI material, probably never would. But maybe, rather than cursing his luck at being an NPC in whatever Otome that had you as the MC, he'd celebrate his luck at being able to dance with you like this in spite of it.

He had you in his arms, and he could barely believe it was real, waiting for it to be revealed as just a dream-sequence. But somehow it was real. His palms were sweaty and his expression twisted in panic as he tried not to step on your toes and he probably looked like the worst 'suitor' ever.

But you were smiling, still holding his sweaty hand, and that blush was somehow still on your cheeks.

If this was just the preview of what his route, or life, rather, might look like were he to break free from the 'non-romancable NPC' category…

He better get to re-coding the game.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EDIT: just so everyone who reads this is aware, I do in fact take writing requests!

I'm testing out a new format This isn't exactly a 'headcanon' as much as it's literally just a short-fic

Publishing this as a bit of an experiment If people like it, maybe that'll finally convince my perfectionist brain that not every single thing I write has to be perfect according to my own, almost impossible-to-reach standards I set for my own writing

My friend told me the skull I used for Idia's partition gives "14 year old edgy COD kid vibes" It's perfect.

Also damn writing Idia is so fun. Including all his references is SO FUN. I get to pretend to be an extremely terminally online reddit gaming subreddit guy who hasn't touched grass or spoken to a real person in years, who bases his beliefs of how real life works off of anime. He is SO CRINGE (affectionate) and I LOVE HIM FOR IT.

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 2

Chapter Links: First, <- Chapter 2 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Extermination came and went with you wrapped up in all the blankets from your bed, crammed into the walk-in cooler Hal used to age gigantic slabs of meat.  Once the distant screams had died down you were quickly pulled from the fridge and put back to work, barely able to hold a knife in your frost nipped fingers. 

“Lotsa screaming means lotsa bodies,” Hal explained, tying the strings of his apron around his wide hips in a tight double knot.  “And lotsa bodies means lotsa meat.”

As though summoned by his words, a forceful knock sounded from the delivery entrance; a salesman bearing the first of many scavenged corpses sold to the shop for a quick buck. 

You stared down at the man laid across your chopping block, his face contorted to showcase the abject terror of his final moments.

“I'm sorry this happened to you,” you murmured quietly, fingers tracing the jagged cut that had ripped the man open from pelvis to sternum.  “But I promise to do a better job than they did.”

The angels had cut his life short.

And then you cut him into pieces.

It didn't seem particularly fair to you, but you supposed it was as balanced as things could be in Hell.  

Hal, in a rare show of mercy, gave his employees the weekend off to recuperate from the pre and post Extermination rushes.  You had been content to hole up inside your cramped apartment and sleep for the full two days, but once you remembered your promise to Ms. Rosie you managed to pull yourself out of bed and get dressed with a minimal amount of cursing. 

It wasn't difficult to find her once you actually managed to wake up enough to stumble down your apartment stairs without breaking your neck.  You'd pass by Franklin and Rosie's Emporium often enough running errands for Hal.  It would be hard to avoid the boutique considering it was smack dab in the middle of main street; placing it along just about every route through town.  

The Emporium offered a wide selection of impeccably tailored clothes you couldn't ever hope to afford with your meager earnings.  It was nearly impossible to swallow back the sour burn of envy roiling in your belly at the sight of the smartly dressed women spinning in front of mirrors in their tailored waistcoats and silver buttoned shoes.  You self consciously soothed out wrinkles in your burgundy colored skirt, the fabric likely permanently creased from being trapped under the tight sash of your butchery apron.

The checkout line moved slowly as every patron stopped to chat with Rosie or the woman standing beside her, and it felt like a small eternity had passed before you made it to the front of the queue.  Rosie's eyes widened as she saw you, a bright smile stretching across her face as she quickly skirted around to the front of the counter.

“Take over from me, Franklin!” Rosie called out to her companion over her shoulder, motioning you to follow her with an excited wave of her hand.  “I've got a special guest visiting!”

Rosie led you to a darling two person cafe table pushed into an alcove with a giant window overlooking the central square of Cannibal Town, where a barbershop quartet was starting to attract a fair bit of attention from passers by.  Rosie was silent as she slid up behind you, but the weight of her aura was somehow palpable; like a humidity that clogged the air and made breathing a laborious task.

“It's pretty peaceful for a place called Cannibal Town, isn't it?” Rosie boasted, but you couldn't fault her for her pride.  You knew from stories around town that the orderly life on display was the result of her tireless effort to secure a better life for the sinners under her rule.  

“It is,” you agreed readily, sliding carefully  into the chair that one of her attendants had pulled out for you while Rosie settled down across the table.  “You've built a lovely community, Ms. Rosie.”

“Oh, aren't ya' just the sweetest thing!” Rosie chirped in delight, hoisting a tray of finger foods up under your nose.  “Canapé?”

You were too nervous to be hungry, but grabbed a couple of crackers topped with thin slices of blood sausage and dollops of roasted marrow to be polite.  Not sure what to say, you quickly popped one of the hors d'oeuvres into your mouth immediately and hoped Rosie would take hold of the conversational reins.

Rosie, mercifully, rose to the occasion.  

“So, you seem to be fitting in pretty well around here.  That's unusual these days,” she said, deftly pouring some piping hot bone broth into dainty porcelain tea cups.  “Hard to find new sinners willing to live without television or cellular phones.”

You couldn't help but think of how much of your life had been squandered in front of screens; the endless hours of scrolling and watching and seeing and wanting- of wondering why your life never seemed to compare to the ones that clogged your social media feeds.  

“Those- those things do me more harm than good, I think,” you admit between small bites of sausage.  

“Oh, honey.  Those gadgets are nothing but trouble for everyone,” Rosie cooed comfortingly before angling her head down to mumble into her cup “especially down here.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over,” Rosie laughed dismissively, pushing a platter of finger sandwiches towards your now empty plate.  You grabbed the one with a thumb poking out, saving the sandwiches stuffed with choicer pinky digits for your host.  

“It's nice to see you don't shy away from the…specialized fare Cannibal Town is known for,” Rosie said approvingly, watching as you skillfully de-nailed the finger in your sandwich.  “Did working at the butcher shop help acclimate ya'?”

“A bit.  I won't lie, it was really hard at first.  I spent a lot of time pretending that I was eating other stuff- beef, pork, a really convincing soy substitute,” you admit. “But after a little while that started to feel, I don't know, disrespectful?”

“Oh?” 

“It's like- this person is nourishing me.  I am alive because of them.  It didn't seem right to pretend that they were somehow less than what they were; especially when they were providing me with so much.  Acknowledging their life, what they were-” you paused, considering your words along with the remaining phalange held between your fingers.  “It's the least I can do.  A way I can thank them.”

You feel a bit vulnerable from your confession, never having voiced your thoughts out loud before, and it takes you a moment to muster the courage to look up from your hands and meet your host’s gaze again.  Rosie is positively beaming at you, her small nose crinkled in delight.

“I need you to promise me you'll try and get out more, sweetie.  It's very inconsiderate for you to deprive the citizens of Cannibal Town of your company,” Rosie said, leaning over the table to place her hand on top of yours, the press of her fingers a balm to your touch-starved soul. “You're one of us now.  It's time to start acting like it.”

You'd reluctantly started to make appearances around town.  It started small, with short walks around the park when the belladonna began to bloom, followed by the weekly al fresco concerts once the early spring acid rains tapered off.  

And then suddenly a switch seemed to flip.  People would wave good morning to you from across the street, customers would ask about how your weekend was, and  your coworkers invited you out for drinks after work.  You'd gone from merely existing in Cannibal Town to really living in Cannibal Town.  

You tried to not dwell on how much happier you were in Hell than you were on Earth, fearful about what exactly that said about the sort of person you were. 

The years ticked by and before you knew it the workers at the butcher shop had surprised you with a lopsided devils food cake to celebrate your fifth death day.

“When you're facing down eternity you don't celebrate every single year,” Dorcas, the girl who usually worked the register, explained.  “Five is the first milestone party, followed by twenty-five and fifty.  They get more spaced out as time goes on.”

You had woken up early the next day, dehydrated with a headache pounding behind your eyeballs from overindulging at your death day celebration.  Hal, in a show of incredible foresight, had scheduled you for the afternoon shift.  With a mug of watery coffee in hand, you were slowly shambling to the threadbare armchair in the corner of your room when the broken radio on the side table suddenly began shooting off sparks; the device alight with an eerie green glow.

“SWEET SASSY MOLASSY,” you screamed, accidentally spilling coffee down the front of your dressing gown as you leaped away from the ancient box radio.

“Salutations!  Good to be back on the air!” a staticky voice greeted, the cheery tone completely at odds with your abject misery as you pulled your soaked nightgown away from your chest to cool your singed flesh.

The radio was loud, the volume knob having been set to maximum when it suddenly powered on; but the sound inside your apartment was nothing compared to the uproarious cheers you heard coming from outside as the citizens of Cannibal Town overjoyed by the return of their favorite radio program.  

[blingblong55]

Hey Lover- Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Based on a request:

Hihoooo!! Me again :3 not here for smut this time. It's my sad girl hours... Again. Soap picking up the broken pieces of Graves' ex who is completely broken from Graves cheating and dumping her cuz "The girl I'm with is better for me." I just want someone to fix me asap like seriously

F!reader, fluff, civilian!reader

Philip Graves, the man who ruined your very soul. You loved him, saw him as the most perfect man in this world. In one moment it all changed, he cheated, and told you a lie that you of course believed. In November, after you and him ended things he was on a mission. Met a man nicknamed Soap, and they talked about their lives, becoming close friends. At some point, he talks about you, and talks about you, Soap didn't know names or faces.

In March, you met him, you were at a dinner with friends when you just couldn't take the loud crowds anymore. You walk outside and bump into him. "Shit, sorry," you say, already feeling overwhelmed. "No, I should apologise, I didn't see where I was going." His Scottish accent was rough.

"I didn't either." You look at him. You both chuckle and he extends his hand, "John, friends call me Johnny" You shake his hand, "R/N," you smile a little. No man will ever love you. His words ring through.

"Nice to meet you, R/N."

"Nice to meet you too, John.."

"Johnny to you.." he winks and you nod, "Johnny." you softly say.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you. "So, are you...single? It's not like you look like the kind to be...I'm not calling you... Anything rude, you are just so..pretty and I keep on talking... Why don't I just give you my whole life story while I keep rambling." he spoke fast and you chuckled. He was so adorable this way, how nervous he was because of you. The first time he was ever this way with a woman. He took a deep breath and looked at you, "can I get a redo so you think I'm much cooler than I appear right now?" eyes pleading for just a second chance.

"um...yes...I mean I think you already did such a good job but sure"

"Hi, I'm Johnny and I'd like to take you out somewhere someday if you let me that is."

Graves was like this in the beginning, so sweet and such a gentleman and of course things changed. It was so hard to trust men like him and now here you were, thinking that maybe history repeats itself and this man in front of you would do what Graves did.

After that night, Soap started to prove he meant what he said on the first date. You opened up about an ex when noticed how hesitant you were with him. "Sounds fuckin' stupid but believe me, I will prove you wrong, I am better. Can you give me a chance?"

Since then he and you have created some rules and boundaries. (bold are rules made by him)

If he knows you are uncomfortable, he will apologise or not mention it and move on

You must accept all the flowers he gives you

You can say no to everything and he will not pry or do anything forcefully (unless you haven't eaten which will result in him trying to feed you)

If you think he is talking to some other girls (romantically), you can and will stop all communication with him

You can take all his hoodies and even shirts as long as he can get a kiss on the cheek as payment

No more talking about exes or situation-ships

If you are insecure about anything, body, actions or emotions, he wants you to be open about them, and never leave anything unsaid

Never argue and go to sleep, talk it out.

Goodbye kisses before missions are a must

For months on end, he has followed all the rules and boundaries you have set for yourself. Even if he needs a hug you aren't currently comfortable with, he will wait and never complain. One night, you saw graves with some new girl by his side. He was kissing her, and he saw you and Soap. But before you could even think clearly, Soap wrapped his arms around you. Kissing your cheek and whispering sweet nothings.

One night, your insecurities got the best of you, you had been trying to wear some dress for an event. Back then, Graves would've made some comment that would make you stay indoors for quite some time. "You look ridiculous, too much for what? take it off, you look hideous anyways."

"You look so beautiful," his voice soft, eyes glued to your dress then your face. "Seriously, the most gorgeous girl in this world and I get to be in your presence? What a lucky fucker I am." Arms wrapped around your waist, he and you looking at the mirror. "You really take my breath away, R/N." He kissed your cheek. Mesmerised is what you had this man at. He truly worships the ground you walk on. His personal goddess, if he could, he'd built you, your own Taj Mahal. You can see the love in his eyes, one look at you and you melt him away.

Two days into the relationship, he got on his knees in front of you. You sat on the sofa, looking down at him, confused. "What are you doing?"

"One, I'm taking your shoes off, two, I think you look ravishing in this light I just needed more angles to look from." You smile and look away. The first time he had complimented you this way.

Slowly, he sat patiently and watched as you healed. He saw how you found a new meaning in life. Life brought back to your beautiful eyes, a smile that was no longer hidden. Graves past comments about your body, laugh, ideas, smile, and dreams were all erased one by one, all possible because he gave you space and time to heal. The days where you cried over how easily he loved you and accepted all of you were the days he was the most proud, not because of your tears but because you were learning you are indeed loveable and worthy of much more. Nights and days where he sat on your bed as you bawled your eyes out, the many mornings he woke up to your smile, evenings where you'd get random bursts of energy, those are the times he loves you the most.

Soap has been in love the minute he saw you, and took time to realise he was not just any passing star but rather the man you are walking the aisle to. He scrubbed you clean and clothed you with silk clothes. Kiss your scars, and bad memories and create better ones. New love and old ones all came together to create the perfect time you and him would fall in love.

Tags: @anonymuslydumb

A/N: Really hope you like it :)

[ducktracy]

How did you became a fan of looney tunes, particularly the porky and daffy shorts?

SO! THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ASK because i get asked this a lot (and have talked about it pretty frequently lately), and i feel every time i answer i have 80 explanations. all of them are true! but i kinda want a repository so i can reference back to my thoughts if and when the question comes up, because i love talking about it. saying this now because usually when i intend to answer an ask quickly, that's never how it goes.

TLDR for both is: i was bored one day, saw Boomerang was airing the shorts, remembered hearing good things about the shorts and was immediately swept away. a series of rabbit holes clinched my obsession. as for Daffy and Porky, i find them intensely interesting and they're also some of the most i've ever found myself reflected in a fictional character, Daffy especially.

NOW THE LONGER ANSWERS!

SO. as i mentioned above, there's about 80 different explanations i could give for what got me into Looney Tunes. (this is not true and heavy hyperbole, but it is true that my interest was clinched in a number of ways). the most objective of those is that, i was very curious about learning the history and production of cartoons, especially because i had aspirations of making my own cartoons one day and working in the industry. at the time, there was (and still kind of is...) a popular animation blog by a, uh, let's say disgraced cartoonist. said disgraced cartoonist had a blog where he would discuss animation technique, history, and in spite of knowing he was disgraced and very publicly disavowing him to the point of overcompensation, i drank the Kool-Aid and fell into the trap of reading his blog pretty religiously and absorbing a bunch of information that i have now spent years unlearning and have no interest in returning to.

BUT ANYWAY. said cartoonist's blog discussed LT quite often as a pinnacle of great cartooning. i never actually went out of my way to check out any of the shorts mentioned--it was just sort of an understanding of "oh wow, these are important. got it." and not putting the research in

come September 2019 (the 13th to be exact because i'm neurotic and memorize dates). i'm home alone for the weekend and bored out of my mind. channel surf. see Boomerang is showing LT shorts. think, "hey, i've spent years reading about how good this stuff is, i didn't watch it very often as a kid, let's see if the rumors about this being good are true." AND THEY WERE! the first short i saw was Bob McKimson's Upswept Hare which is actually not one i go out of my way to watch often, it's whatever, but i thought it was amazing that i was able to watch cartoons from 1953 on my TV. even though my obsession with golden age cartoons is recent, i've had a lifelong nostalgia affliction--i've been interested in things that are old for as long as i can remember.

after that was Rabbit Transit which, wow, 1947?? that's even older! and even COOLER!!! and it's true! Friz Freleng's Bugs is now my favorite director's interpretation of the character. i was amazed at how funny it was, how fast everything was, how lush the music sounded and how intricate the animation was. i genuinely did not know animation could be that smooth and lush. it was seriously mind blowing. likewise, seeing these McKimson and Freleng Bugs shorts defied the notion i had for the longest time where i only thought Bugs was just a terminally bored beacon of invincibility, since those were the shorts i remembered most from my childhood. Rabbit Transit ends with Bugs being dragged away by cops kicking and screaming--i thought it was HILARIOUS and so different than what i was used to. i really wanted to see more Bugs Bunny and see how my notions of what he was continued to be challenged.

another short included in the line-up was A Pest in the House, which is one of the major dominos in this entire domino effect. i didn't watch very much LT as a kid (only just on DVDs during road trips, but i recall seeing a few on Cartoon Network or Boomerang at some point in my life), but i do recall having a particular dislike towards Daffy since he was mean. also, he was not a cute and cuddly cat and/or rabbit like Sylvester and Bugs, which did not appease my child mind, who loved cats and rabbits. (my childhood cat looked like Sylvester so i've always been fond of him, i do recall owning a Sylvester balloon on a stick at one point as a small child, so yay?)

needless to say, my hopes were not very high. Daffy Duck, who cares, whatever. so, of course, finding out that Daffy is small and cute here and acting amicably, smiling, and being obnoxious was VERY surprising and novel to me. the bit where he's cracking up and can't even tell the poor hotel patron a joke because he's too busy laughing and sobbing and screaming and then FORGETS IT was my canon event. my "oh god, i have never related more to anything than i do right now in this moment." (this is still true, as this exact thing happened to me on a Zoom call recently and i was literally sobbing cracking myself up at a stupid joke i thought of that literally isn't funny at all, and i kept thinking of that scene which just made me laugh harder).

that, in conjunction with this scene and how QUICKLY IT MOVED, how SMOOTHLY, how ENERGETIC the music is, the hilarity that is Elmer's "?" above his head... i HAD TO SEE MORE. i was so interested to learn that Daffy wasn't just a self-obsessed greedy miser all the time. i had no idea cartoons could move this way. you can time the action to the music?? that's GENIUS! so A Pest in the House was a very big break through moment for me and kickstarted my infatuation with Daffy Duck.

another breakthrough was watching Falling Hare for the first time thanks to Boomerang as well. it was the first Bob Clampett cartoon i saw as a cognizant adult, and i knew to look out for it because this disgraced cartoon creator certainly loved to make his bootlicking of Clampett very, very, very well known. i thought that it was amazing to be seeing a short from 1943 on TV!!! SO ANCIENT! so old! who knew they made cartoons that old! and, most importantly, who knew they made cartoons that old THAT MOVE AS GORGEOUSLY AS THEY DO HERE!!!! GEEEEEEZ, you wanna talk about never seeing cartoons move like that before... and not only that, i loved the humor, i loved the characterizations, i loved even the most hokey gags in it. i decided that to really jumpstart my interest in LT, rather than waiting around to catch Boomerang airings, i'd binge the entire Clampett chronology. i did indeed do this, and it wasn't until i got to around 1942 or so that i finally began to branch out and watch other directors

THERE ARE STILL MORE BRANCHES TO THE STORY! SOMEHOW! while i wasn't much of a LT fan before this, i WAS a Tom and Jerry fan. was a very big fan as a kid. i didn't go out and watch the shorts as an adult, but i did listen to the soundtracks. i recall listening to one of the soundtracks, and a comment on it talked about comparisons between Scott Bradley, who did the MGM scores, and Carl Stalling, who did WB's. i was like "huh, wonder who this Stalling fella is" and looked up one of his music compilations. found one from the '30s, went "there's such a thing as Depression-era music scores??" and listened to it.

one of the comments on that video gave a timestamp and mentioned a Porky's Romance. i went to the timestamp, listened to the song, and thought it was one of the most beautiful things i had heard in my life. i still have a screen recording saved in my camera roll from when i first listened to it. i thought, this is so gorgeous, i have to see what cartoon this is from.

and lo and behold, the cartoon about Porky Pig offing himself because he got rejected in his marriage proposal was the first Porky short i saw as an adult. similar to my Bugs and Daffy revelations, there were SO many things that intrigued me. largely: I HAD NO IDEA THEY MADE THE CARTOONS IN BLACK AND WHITE! seeing these beloved cartoon characters in black and white was the coolest thing to me! i had to learn more! likewise, i never knew that Porky was fat! or that these shorts would deal with such dark subject matter! or that they could be so representative of their time with the music styling and background design!

SO, all of these sort of culminated together. i wanted to see more LT, i wanted to see more cartoons that challenged my perception of them. i wanted to see more old things. shocking things. beautiful things. my main path into LT was binging a bunch of the Bob Clampett cartoons, which coincided with my interest in seeing more Porky shorts and more black and white shorts since the first 4 years of his career were nothing BUT black and white Porky cartoons. i also recall checking out Porky's Duck Hunt around the same time i watched Romance for the first time, but i'm not sure why. i think i was reading up on the Wikipedia article for A Pest in the House, learned that Daffy used to be crazy, and wanted to see it for myself. i also fell in love with the novelty of seeing him HOOHOO and jump around and act a fool, as well as the very present 30s-isms in that short.

i began to branch out to other directors, a lot of my introductions boiling down to "i saw this on Google and it looked interesting" (i know that's how i discovered Yankee Doodle Daffy). there was a period in early October 2019 where i was beginning to lose a little interest and fixating on other shows instead, but i watched Porky in Wackyland for the first time and, well, HERE I YAM! likewise, seeing praise about Baby Bottleneck and The Great Piggy Bank Robbery got me to jump ahead in my self imposed Clampett chronology and watch those for the first time (October 18th, 2019, a day that will forever live in infamy). needless to say, it was one of the smartest decisions of my life since those are two of my favorite cartoons of all time. Baby Bottleneck impressed me so much that it literally gave me heart palpitations SO SEVERE i genuinely considered calling my parents to tell them i might need to go to the hospital. i seriously thought i was having a heart attack. no cartoon has ever made me feel like that since. that was a defining "i need to do this" moment for me. again, i reiterate, talk about not knowing the possibilities of how animation could move.

and from thereon out, i continued to go on my little rabbit holes. i started my reviews in December 2019 as an excuse to motivate myself to see every Looney Tunes cartoon ever made (which is a mission i completed on December 31st, 2022.) i've seen and even own some of the animation art from the cartoons themselves in person, i've had relatives of the directors praise my work, i can directly owe my job to LT (and am known as the LT person--specifically, the pig and duck person--by my bosses, coworkers, and peers), i've received job offers from Warner Bros... all because i got bored one day and decided to channel surf.

it's been nearly 5 years now. September 2019, i was in a very low point in my life. i was recovering from a very messy and rather traumatic break-up, there was some related drama affecting my friendships, i had just started college and was missing all the friends and relationships i'd built in high school, and i was really grappling with my mental health as a result. this introduction couldn't have come at a perfect time. i went from being despondent and listless and depressed to actively looking forward to waking up and discovering a new cartoon to watch because it meant i'd learn something new. i really look back on that time fondly. i cringe at a lot of what i was saying and doing back then, as i've learned so much more and matured a lot since then, but i'm still so lucky to have had that time in my life. and even though i'm 5 years in, and even though i've calmed down in a lot of aspects, that excitement never really goes away and i don't forsee it doing so. i can tell this is going to be a lifelong fixture for me. i don't have any doubt about it. calling it a "hyperfixation" or "interest" seems to temporary and diminutive; too many areas of my life have been affected by it and it's really just ingrained in me now, and will continue to do so. i'm so lucky for that.

SO! TO GET COMPARATIVELY LESS PHILOSOPHICAL BUT STILL RELEVANTLY SO, answering your question about Daffy and Porky specifically

as i talked about above, much of my investment in them comes from really identifying with the both of them. Daffy a bit moreso, but certainly Porky as well. i find myself in Daffy's exuberance, passion, impulsiveness, his emotionality, his... shall we say "neuroticisms", always living life at a high frequency, being a very all or nothing person, his often fleeting attention span and endeavors, his obnoxiousness, good humor, his charisma (this feels so conceited of me to say but i've had multiple people told me i'm charismatic--i don't entirely believe so but i think it is worth bringing up, if nothing else), his at-times overly trusting demeanor. all of these descriptions are more in line with the 40s Daffy rather than the Daffy most folks know, though there is some overlap and i can't say there aren't some traits of the later Daffy i don't see myself in either. namely impulsiveness, a tendency to be a bit overbearing, etc... that's why i can relate so much to him, because he's not just a character who i relate to for positives.

Porky, i can relate a lot to his idiosyncrasies, his stubbornness, his obliviousness, a general awkwardness, [usually] good heart, innocence, occasionally hare trigger temper (i do not consider myself an angry person thank goodness and i'd definitely consider myself more optimistic than most, but if i am mad i am very mad and have a very hard time concealing it), which leads me to my next point in also being pretty transparent, a little bit of a stutter, and so forth

me being able to relate to the both of them certainly does help in pushing them up the ranks, but my enjoyment doesn't hinge on that because i'm thankfully able to see them as their own characters (and i think if i just saw them as reflections of Me the whole time, it'd be a bit uncomfortable). that's the biggest draw: their dynamic is so intensely interesting to me and unlike anything else offered by any of the other characters in the cartoons.

i'm mostly interested in the cartoons and the people behind the scenes rather than the characters, which is funny to say since character and characterization is super important to me. maybe this'll change! but as of right now, i don't really care to think up any headcanons for The Tasmanian Devil or Pepe le Pew or what have you. i'm namely interested in the characters if it directly relates to their context with their creators. i was just saying the other day that i tend to be averse to things that have the LT cast in a big ensemble, even if you remove the "oh they're a happy family" aspect from it. i worded it more succinctly here:

Daffy and Porky are the only real exceptions to this, and it's likewise because they're some of the only characters who weren't bound to a certain director. Tex Avery only ever directed 3 Daffy cartoons, and Friz Freleng, as much as i love the Porkys he did direct and wish he did more, didn't seem very interested in pursuing Porky the same as he did with his other characters like Yosemite Sam or Sylvester (both of whom being some of my favorites, Sylvester ranks behind Daffy and Porky for me in terms of favorites. amazing character.) this likewise offers them a lot of freedom, as they're subject to more interpretation by more directors

their dynamic is the most varied out of any, and i love that. some shorts they're roommates and work together. others, they want each other's blood. my favorite is a good blend of both. but, no matter what dynamic they're in, they still feel like Daffy and Porky. they're flexible and malleable but not completely lost in who they are. i've expressed many times that they're the only two characters who can have a genuine sort of camaraderie between them in the shorts where they do and have it feel natural rather than "get a load of these guys teaming up!". in my eyes, they have the best chemistry, they play off of each other so well. my favorite Porky shorts and my favorite Daffy shorts are always the ones where they're with the other. there are genuinely no Porky and Daffy shorts i dislike outside of the sadly usual "this is racist garbage", but thankfully that's only limited to a very select handful.

much of it likewise comes down to novelty. when i first began getting into their shorts, i was AMAZED that i had never heard anyone talk about their dynamic before. granted, i probably wasn't looking, but all my life it's always been Bugs and Daffy Bugs and Daffy Bugs and Daffy--i still, maybe selfishly, think the Porky and Daffy shorts are 50x more interesting and fun to watch and it was just MINDBLOWING to me how i'd never seen anyone bring this up! how is nobody talking about how varied their dynamic is? why is nobody talking about how well they play off each other here? why is nobody talking about how funny this is? it's a feeling of sort of stumbling into a hidden diamond mind. i really like that feeling. it's why the '30s and '40s shorts are my preferred favorites; they're less talked about, which means i have more room to shill them and maybe give someone the same reaction it's given me. i love that aspect of exploration.

i've been typing this out for nearly 1 hour and 25 minutes straight, and so my steam is finally beginning to run out. there's more i could say on just how much Porky and Daffy mean to me, but that's the general jist. i identify with them both a lot, i sincerely love their chemistry, i think they're one of the most interesting cartoon duos of all time, i want more people to discover them, and i just love watching them. Mel Blanc's Daffy voice is one of the most beautiful sounds i've ever heard and i'm not even exaggerating. i have so much fun picking apart Porky's stutter and seeing how it varies depending on the voice directing, and i love catching certain stutters that Mel Blanc does that feel very true to life/like something i've heard out of my own mouth before. i love how they have a bit of an underrepresented past (Porky moreso; i've really fallen in love with the Joe Dougherty era shorts). they're just so interesting and offer so much, no matter what your interest is.

WOW. this may have been the lengthiest ask i've ever answered. but, ye ask and ye shall receive, so i hope ye received!

[aurumacadicus]

@ifdragonscouldtalk fuckin deleted the post thinking I had saved the screenshots smh. Anyway 69 😎

--

"Spock, I need a favor," Leonard said.

Spock blinked slowly, the words taking a moment to really register. Of all the people he ever expected to ask for a favor, Leonard would have been on the bottom of the list. In fact, he'd be on a whole separate list, titled 'will die rather than ask for help.' But then, Jim might be the one who needed help, and they needed a cooler head to prevail.

Or someone with a stronger punch. But he hoped it was the former.

Spock finally turned from where he'd been examining a particularly interesting carved statue and blinked again, very hard, when he saw the flower crown on Leonard's head. It was made of what looked like Terran hedera, small pink hyacinthus, and blue myosotis. It was different from all the other flower crowns he'd seen so far, woven only with plumeria.

"So unfair that you don't have to participate in this stupid festival," Leonard grumbled, scowling up at him.

"If the Captain had listened to me, none of you would have to participate in the Florum's customs," Spock explained, for what felt like the umpteenth time. He turned his gaze on the festivities, watching as one of the green-skinned Florum plucked a flower growing from their breast and placed it in the crown of another. "As it stands, Vulcans are offensive to the Florum peoples, especially in their nuptiae rites. Flowers, as you know, are not abundant in the hot, dusty climate of Vulcan, and--"

"Listen," Leonard cut in impatiently. "Just--pretend to be my date, okay?"

Spock stared at him for a moment. Then, quite inelegantly, he said, "I'm quite certain I misheard you, Doctor."

"You didn't, the Florum are trying to get in my pants, and I have never been more uncomfortable in my life," Leonard hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the milling of peoples on the marble courting floor. "I haven't been with anyone since--Look, I just. I don't like this. I'm not Jim. I'm not--"

He really did look deeply uncomfortable, Spock realized as he watched Leonard shift nervously on his feet, trying to keep his back to any of the Florum's wandering eyes. He'd only come off the ship in an effort to learn more about the Florum's medical procedures. Apparently, the clean, clinical smell of the medical crew was like catnip to a cat. It made sense to Spock, what with Terran medicine starting in the use of plants to treat ailments.

But that didn't matter if Leonard was uncomfortable, he reminded himself. And while the Florum were known to engage in non-monogamous behavior, they were aware that more territorial species existed.

"...I know we can't hold hands," Leonard added haltingly. "I don't... know how else to show..."

Spock nodded. Of course he wouldn't know how else to show casual affection without it being too much. He and Jim were always all over each other. Vulcans were more reserved, though, and Spock even more so. Still, he thought, narrowing his eyes at an approaching Florum. He was Chief Science Officer. It would be unconscionable to leave Leonard to suffer while he was uncomfortable.

"Leonard," Spock said firmly, laying his arm over Leonard's shoulders and pivoting on one foot to turn him and lead him further away from the nuptiae floor. "I saw a particular sculpture of the Florum's deity of medicine that I think you'll find interesting. Come along."

"Oh," Leonard squeaked, and Spock couldn't tell if he sounded confused or embarrassed. That was fine, though. The Florum did not feel either of those emotions and wouldn't understand it even if they sensed it. "Okay."

Another Florum approached them. Spock paused only long enough to snarl at it wordlessly, and Leonard let out a noise he'd never heard before, so he whisked him away from the marble floor entirely. If asked, Spock would explain that since Florum didn't understand spoken language, he was just warning it off in a way that was expedient. He had to admit though, at least to himself, that he was annoyed that the Florum would clearly ignore Leonard's flower crown that basically flashed a blaring 'taken; not interested' sign at them.

[duhragonball]

Requiem for a Bio-Broly

So I looked at the new Sparking Zero lineup, and it's currently at 184 characters, if you count the three DLC guys. And once again, Bio-Broly did not make the cut.

I'm not really surprised, but it is kind of interesting that this guy has never made it into any of these fighting games. He's in Dragon Ball Heroes and Dokkan stuff, and I'm pretty sure that's because those card-based style of games need as much variety as possible, which is why they do all those what-if characters and scenarios.

It only really surprised me when Budokai Tenkaichi 3 skipped him, because that game had a ginormous roster, to the point where it was tough to even guess how they'd fill all the slots. And unsurprisingly, often-overlooked movie villains like Garlic Junior and Dr. Wheelo were on the roster. But not Bio-Broly. I think that's when I first got intrigued about his exclusion from these games, because BT3 was the first game to get all of the other Z movie villains in it, and that made Bio-Broly conspicuous by his absence.

The later games had smaller rosters, but they also seemed eager to add some special attraction, usually a character who hadn't been used before. Raging Blast 2 had Hatchiyack, but also Androids 13 and 14. Battle of Z really touted Beerus and Whis, since I'm pretty sure that was their video game debut. And Xenoverse 2 has been adding DLC characters for the better part of a decade now. You'd think one of them might toss in Bio-Broly, if only for the novelty of it, but no.

I don't want to sound like some kind of Bio-Broly fan. The character sucks, and so does his movie. But he was still a movie villain. Like, that's kind of a special status in these games. They get used as bonus stage bosses or special unlockable guys, or whatever. GT is pretty awful too, but it's still fun to see Omega Shenron and Baby in these games. I would argue the games are the only time GT characters are really handled properly. I'm sure someone could come up with a cool story mode segment involving Bio-Broly. The quality of his movie is irrelevant.

So with this game, Sparking Zero, I figured he was probably going to finally get his spot, if only because there were so many spots to fill, and why not toss him in there, if only to get a complete set of movie baddies? But it looks like he got shafted again. I mean, they could still put him in as DLC, and I would think they'd just about have to. I mean, they probably want to do lots of DLC characters like with Xenoverse 2, but they already put so many characters in the base game, so who's left? They could do Cell Max, and some Daima characters, toss in some OG Dragon Ball and more Tournament of Power guys, but it's weird that we're even talking about this when there's a Z-Movie guy they've never used.

Like, imagine if Metal Cooler never got to be in any of these games. Everybody else, but for some reason Metal Cooler just never shows up. Movie 5 Cooler's there, and so is his final form, but no Metal Cooler, no explanation given. That'd be weird, right? After a while you'd wonder why that is. I mean, Cooler's henchmen have made it into some of the games. There's room for Metal Cooler, so why wouldn't they use it?

I think it's widely understood that Movie 11 is one of the worst, if not the worst of the DBZ movies. But I've never really seen anyone actively hating on it. It's more forgettable than offensive, and yet, Bio-Broly's exclusion from the games makes me wonder if that movie did more damage to the brand than I've ever known. Like, maybe it performed very poorly, or there's a lot of hard feelings over that production, so everyone at Toei just keeps the character as obscure as possible. I mean, they put him in the Dokkan and DBH games, but you never see like ads for that. Maybe they're worried that putting Bio-Broly in one of these roster reveal trailers would be so offensive to fans that it would hurt the sales? That seems pretty far-fetched, but that's where my mind goes on this.

Most likely, they just don't put him in because there's so little interest in the character, and there's always someone else they can stick in the game instead. I think there's a very real case to be made for adding in more Tournament of Power characters. If they put the whole Universe 10 team in a DLC pack before Bio-Broly, I'd be like "Yeah, that makes sense."

I just wonder where the bottom is. How big does the roster have to get before Bio-Broly becomes the next best choice for a new addition? 184 isn't the answer, but what about 200? 250? 300? When does it just get down to Bio-Broly and like... Shu wearing his fake Goku disguise?

I mean, obviously Fake Goku should be added before Bio-Broly. Look at this guy. He's great.

[xoxoavenger]

Welcome To New York

pairing: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Fem!Reader

summary: the lights are so bright but they never blind me

word count: 950

warnings: none

1989 masterlist

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Peter didn't want to be ice skating. He would have rather been in the lab, working on his new web shooters prototype that he had discovered before MJ and Ned had forced him out. They had never been to the Rockefeller Center to ice skate, and Ned insisted that this would be his Christmas present and would not shut up until MJ and Peter agreed.

So there he was, determined to make the most out of the overpriced skates they rented for an hour. Ned was quickly discovering he wasn't very good at skating, so MJ was practically holding him the whole time. Peter had been trying not to laugh at Ned almost taking MJ to the ground as she reached for Peter as well when his sense started to go haywire. He skated forward as he looked around, and then a girl tripped right into him going the opposite way.

The two fell to the ground, Peter shifting to break her fall. She lets out a cry as her wrist hits the ice, but his hand protected her head. She was breathing heavily and had her eyes squeezed shut when he got onto his knees.

"Are you alright?" He asked, waiting for her to open her eyes.

"Oh my God." She whispered, opening her eyes and sitting up. She looked at her wrist, but deemed it fine when she used it to get to her knees. "I'm so sorry! This is my first time skating and I still haven't gotten the hang of it. Are you okay?" She felt so guilty, which made Peter feel even worse.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled as he stood, sticking his hand that had protected her head into his pocket and helping her up with his other hand, trying to block the blood on the ice from her seeing. His hand was fine, he barely felt it anyway, but he wouldn't be able to explain the way it'd heal in a minute. She slipped as she got up, causing him to grab her waist to steady her. Her hands went to his biceps, squeezing.

They separated quickly and tried not to look flustered.

"I could teach you if you want." Peter offered, hoping he sounded cooler than he usually was. The girl smiled slightly, cheeks warming.

"That would be helpful." She showed teeth as she smiled wider, and Peter hoped he wasn't blushing obviously as he felt. He held out a hand, and she took it quickly.

"I'm Peter," He told her, beginning to skate forward.

"I'm Y/N," She slipped as she followed him, but he pulled her up in time. He caught MJ and Ned staring at him, trying not to blush more when they winked at him.

"Where are you from?" She asked, squeezing his hand while she slipped around.

"Queens." He told her, assuming she's a tourist. "Born and raised. What about you?"

"I just moved here." She admitted, looking around Rockefeller Square as if it were the coolest thing she'd ever seen. She tripped on the toe-pick, causing Peter to grab her other arm and help her up before she even hit the ice again.

"How did you even get on the ice?" He asked, laughing. She scoffed.

"I had just gotten on when I ran into you." She told him, watching his feet so she could get the hang of it.

"Have you ever been rollerblading?" He asked, and she turned to him and looked at him as if he had asked the most stupid question. It caused her to trip once more, and this time they both went falling. "I'll take that as a no." He said from the ground.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna learn." She laughed, getting on her knees and staying.

"It may be a lost cause." He joked, noticing she was shivering. "They sell hot chocolate right over there." He suggested, not wanting this to end.

"That sounds much better." She smiled as he stood, putting both hands out to help her up. "Thanks," She felt her cheeks blaze as he skated backward and pulled her to the exit so she wouldn't fall again. Her knees were sore now.

"Peter!" Someone yelled as they stepped off the ice. His eyes widened as he realized that he had completely forgotten about MJ and Ned. He was supposed to be there for Ned's Christmas present.

"Shit," Peter muttered, dropping Y/N's hands and turning to his friends.

"Where do you think you're going?" MJ smirked, knowing exactly what was happening.

"Right," Peter tried to figure out what he was going to say. "Uh, hot chocolate?" He asked, as if that explained anything.

"I'm Ned." He stuck his hand out to Y/N, who looked shocked as shook his hand.

"Y/N," She smiled, looking to Peter's other friend. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm MJ," She nodded, hands stuck in her pockets. "I'd shake your hand, but I think my own will freeze off if I take them out of my pockets."

"We were gonna get some hot chocolate. That might help?" Y/N offers. She missed Peter behind her giving wide eyes to his friends in order to show them that he wants to go get hot chocolate with Y/N alone.

"We actually," Ned starts, looking over at MJ to finish the lie. She's better at lying than he is.

"We have to go get Peter's Christmas present, so this is perfect." They say their goodbyes then leave, and for a moment Y/N and Peter are in the awkward quietness that comes with meeting a new person.

"So, hot chocolate?" Peter shrugs, holding his hand out.

"You know what they say," She smiles and grabs his hand. "When in New York."

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371

[tellsjokes-movedbacktomulti]

songs and quotes for the muse ☆ ( under the cut )

tagged by: stole from @spiritdreamt tagging: youuuuu

five SONGS for my muse:

scrawny by wallows: Still wear the same shoes I did back then / I'd switch it up but I don't like change / Scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle / I say the wrong shit at the right times, If I'm offending them I don't mind / You don't like my clothes but you still like my smile / They might think they're cooler than me by a mile / I can still have wisdom and look like a child.

i don't smoke by mitski: I don't smoke except for when I'm missing you / So if you need to be mean be mean to me, I can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart / just don't leave me alone, wondering where you are / I am stronger than you give me credit for

look who's inside again by bo burnham: trying to be funny and stuck in a room / try making faces, try telling jokes, making little sounds / I was a kid who was stuck in his room. there isn't much more to say about it / when you're a kid and you're stuck in your room you'll do any old shit to get out of it / Well, well look who's inside again / went out to look for a reason to hide again / well, well buddy, you found it / now, come out with your hands up. we've got you surrounded

seventeen going under by sam fender: I remember the sickness was forever / That's the thing, it lingers and claws you when you're down / I was far too scared to hit him but I would hit him in a heartbeat now / see I spent my teens enraged, spiralin' in silence / and I armed myself with a grin 'cause I was always the fuckin' joker, buried in their humor / God, the kid looks so sad / I see my mother

sloppy seconds by watsky: I don't care where you've been, how many miles, I still love you / show me someone who says they got no baggage, I'll show you somebody whose got no story / my favorite sweater was a present that I got a couple presidents ago and I promised that I would rock it till it's thread bare / every single person gotta couple skeletons / and there is not a single place that I would rather be / I'm fucked up just like you are, and you're fucked up just like me

five QUOTES for my muse:

“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.” - Robin Williams

“When Mom scolded you freely, you more frequently called her Mom. The word ‘Mom’ is familiar and it hides a plea: Please look after me. Please stop yelling at me and stroke my head; please be on my side, whether I’m right or wrong. You never stopped calling her Mom.” — Kyung-sook Shin, Please Look After Mom

"I want you to know that it is okay not to love me. [ … ] You are not the first person. I want you to know that you are not the first who found it a little too tough, who took two steps back when my jaws started snapping."

"Oh, I could call you names now. List a hundred reasons for why you were awful. But what would that do? Where would it leave me? I still loved you. I still have to live with that."

“in a dream I saw my mother with the love of her life and no children; it was the happiest i'd ever seen her" ―  Rupi Kaur, The sun and her flowers

[theclaravoyant]

Ripples (Hen, Tommy) - 1400wd

AN ~ i am obsessed with sweet, sweet platonic content and the hentommy moment we may never get, so i'm giving us one.

In the middle of a building collapse (because of course they are), Hen and Tommy catch up. Read on AO3 (~1500wd)

-

It's coming down!

The ear-shattering screech of steel and concrete is the only thing Hen can hear for a long moment after she throws herself forward into the hallway. The roof is holding out here, although the concrete dust isn't helping as the air is becoming dangerously smokey. A torn electrical line spits out aimless sparks. But she's okay.

Grimacing against the oncoming headache, she gets to her feet and takes stock.

“Ravi, you okay?”

“Partial floor collapse back here when the ceiling came down,” Ravi reports from somewhere out of sight. He coughs. “I'm down a floor, but I'm okay.”

“Kinard?”

Nothing.

“Tommy? Come in.”

“Hen?”

His voice is weak, but she's not just hearing it through the comms. Hen turns back to the pile of rubble, sifting through sheets of ceiling plaster and trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. Soon enough, she sees a hand wave.

“Got you,” she assures him. “How you feeling?”

He groans. She frowns as she clears the last of the lighter debris, and can see why, because of course he's not been lucky enough to catch a bit of plaster and plywood. He's stuck face-down, the whole back half of his body pinned under probably a half a tonne of rubble.

“My leg,” he advises. “Right's okay I- I think. Left is really- oh, Christ, I think it's twisted up pretty bad. At least it was. I can't- I don't think I can feel it anymore.”

Tommy's breath shakes like he's fighting off a panic attack as Hen requests assistance. Possible spinal. Even when she manages to get both of their halligans under there and relieve some of the pressure, there's only so much that can be seen from here of his bloody mess of a knee. She can only confirm that it's highly unlikely his toes are actually moving. And sure, it means maybe nothing but maybe it means a pinched nerve or amputation or permanent paralysis or, or, or – in other words; no more being a firefighter, no more being a pilot, no more of a lot of other things too probably and that hurts so much more than the fact that half his body's being pulverised into the floor.

“Come on now,” Hen challenges gently. “You know better than to take it to the worst case scenario.”

He nods as best he can down here. He's starting to feel cold and shake and it's got to be some kind of stress response. Is he going into shock?

“I also know better,” he manages, “than putting myself on the call roster for the craziest firehouse in LA.”

“Yeah, well. We all do stupid things for pretty boys, hm?”

He can picture it, the smirk on her face; equal parts compassion and mischievousness. It makes him feel warmer and stop clenching his jaw. He hadn't even realised he was doing that. But she's right, and she's picked a hell of a time to bring it up, and it's working: thinking of Evan and his boyish smile and his big blue eyes brings his heart rate down, steadies his breathing...

Hen settles in beside him. She's close enough to check his brachial pulse, or grab him and yank him forward – possible spinal be damned - if anything else goes down, but as it is, they wait.

After a few breaths of reassuringly collapse-sounds-free silence, Tommy asks:

“So, how's Karen and Denny?”

It almost makes her laugh. He's still face down and bleeding under a roof and for his tone, they could be stood free and clear around an average office water cooler. Ah, the life of a firefighter.

“They're good,” Hen assures him. “Great, actually. You know, Denny's almost fourteen?”

“Wow. Way to make me feel old.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Evan tells me you guys have a daughter now too?”

“Mara,” Hen updates him. “She's nine. Came to us through foster. She's been through a lot but we're getting there. She's really strong, and she's working really hard, you know, to heal.”

“Good, that's good. Sounds like she's got a bright future ahead of her,” Tommy congratulates. Then a more sombre tone settles into his voice. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

It's something about having your whole life and livelihood hanging in the balance that brings out this sort of confessional in people, Hen knows. She's both always wary of it, and also sort of addicted to the kind of radical honesty that constantly spilling your literal actual guts tends to inspire. So even as she tries to get out - “Tommy, we don't have to do this,” - she braces herself to accept whatever is about to come next as if it's the last thing he'll ever get to say.

“I'm sorry I was such a dick to you,” he says, “back in the day. I wish I could say I just got caught up in the machismo and stuff but honestly I- I didn't know any better. And I didn't really want to try. But you, and Chim, you're some of the best firefighters out there and I didn't give you guys your due and I'm sorry.”

Tears prick at Hen's eyes, and it doesn't help the sweat and smoke and concrete dust that's still settling all around them. She'd patched over these wounds a long time ago but it feels nice all the same, freeing in a way she hadn't anticipated, to get an apology she was never going to ask for.

“You know,” Tommy continues, softer now. “I think you saved my life.”

“Uh, pretty sure I'm up to about six counts of that,” she jests, because she can feel it coming;

“I'm not talking about in the field.”

There it is.

Hen's breath catches in her throat as Tommy finds the courage to recount it. She's felt it coming for a long time now, maybe even years, but certainly since he'd strode into Chim's hospital room all giddy and covered with soot and with Buck she'd kind of wondered. Wondered what her crying and demanding to be seen in the middle of the firehouse floor all those years ago might have actually done. It had done a lot for her, but she'd never quite be ready to hear, let alone to contemplate, what those words might have done for a man who'd grown up in a military family under don't ask don't tell – the same policy that had kept Karen's dream out of reach until it was too late. For a man who'd not grown up having and valuing marginalised experiences; not having a bad-ass, butch as hell mother who'd always taught her to speak her truth, even if that truth was something said mother had struggled to deal with at first. He'd been taught how to be a man and a gentleman and a soldier and not much else. He'd never realised what intimacy could actually be like, what love could actually be like; he'd thought he'd scared off every girl he'd ever had because there was something abnormal about him. Something fundamentally unloveable.

“... Bits and pieces, looking back – you know how it is. I'd just always sort of thought there was something wrong with me. I'd never really seen any other possibility. Until you. So. I know I'm late to the party, but for what it's worth – I see you now, Hen. And I am honoured to call you Captain.”

Hen nods, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as some of those tears splash down her cheeks. In spite of herself she feels something reach back in time and touch her fierce, heartbroken younger self; a promise that it's going to be worth it one day.

“It's worth a lot, Tommy,” she manages. “Thank you.”

Then, the radio crackles back to life.

“Cap,” Eddie reports, “Ambulances from the 133 pulling up. 118 should be on you now.”

Footsteps clamour down the hall toward them, as Ravi, Buck and Chim rush in, backboard and hydraulic jack in hand. Chim pushes the morphine, Ravi pushes the pain point of the rubble away, Buck and Hen slide Tommy out and even though he yelps and moans Buck can't hide the joy and relief that breaks out on his face as they flip him onto his back and slide him onto the backboard in swift, perfectly matched unison like a well-oiled machine.

“We've got you,” Buck promises, squeezing one of Tommy's trembling hands with a sweaty, giddy smile. He glances over at Hen, and checks in - “You good?”

What do you think it is? he'd asked her once. The secret to happiness?

He's in the middle of a burning building, and it looks like it's pouring out of him now.

“I'm great,” she replies. “Let's move.”

[ananxiousgenz]

TPP HADESTOWN AU PART 8: song for a caged lovebird

IT'S PART 8 WHAAAT this is absolutely insane, i'm having so much fun rn <3

this is a lil shorter but it's very interesting, so as usual, enjoy

EDIT THAT I FORGOR: this is now gonna be titled "song for a caged lovebird" from here on out, thanks for the idea jay <3

all my tpp homies in the house!!! if you are in my walls, please leave (jk i love you i'll bring you snacks)!!!! @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @one-joe-spoopy @urjover @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door. It was dark.

He wasn’t quite sure of the time or his location. He was laying on something soft, he knew that much. A bed, maybe? He had been sleeping, or so he thought. He felt groggy, disoriented, still tethered to the world of dreams by a song that he couldn’t quite seem to shake out of his mind. Was it his own voice singing it, or someone else's? He almost thought he heard a train whistle in the distance, but knew the train line hadn’t run in months, not since the rails had frozen over with ice so thick it couldn’t be melted.

The world felt so strange. There was a heavy knot lying in the pit of his stomach, like something horrible had happened, but he couldn’t quite tell what. Was it his own doing? Someone else’s? He felt almost completely certain it had to do with someone going missing, but no more details sprang to mind.

The person who had entered the room was talking. He didn’t process what they said. 

He tried to sit up to face them. He knew whatever was being said was important. He had to pay attention. But a wave of dizziness overtook him, and he fell back down. They asked a question, and when he didn’t respond, they turned and left.

He let them go. He didn’t have the energy to stop them or ask them to repeat themselves. Sleep was already tugging his eyelids closed again. He let it come, and gently slipped back into a world of dreams.

—------------------------------

Far below the ground, there was a factory town.

This town was old, old enough that no one could really remember when it began. All anyone really knew was that it was hell on Earth. Giant metal works spun rusty gears through all hours of the day and night, and blast furnaces and refineries threw their dragon-fire heat out into the town. Housing was small and cramped and never used, stacked like smashed crates in the rare cooler corner of town, right next to the assembly lines for cars and TV screens. Mines worked overtime to produce rare gemstones and pure gold, and on the outskirts of town, there was a wall. And that was where most of the people worked.

There were a lot of people. Maybe millions, if one really took the time to count. Backs bent to their work, eyes milky white with focus, pickaxe or shovel or wheelbarrow in hand. Different ages and races and genders, but they all had two things in common: they kept their heads down, and they belonged to the king of this land.

Some had signed their souls away in an attempt to avoid their own death. Some had done it in the name of a loved one. Some had even done it in the hopes of getting paid. But that didn’t matter now. None of them could remember anything about their lives before Hadestown anyway. They did what they were told, and they had been told to forget and to work.

So they did.

At the center of town, in a grand office in a high tower, staring out a window at his beautiful city, was the king.

He had always been a crafter, an inventor of sorts. But this was on a far greater scale than anything he had ever imagined when he was a child. He was proud of his beauty, his greatest creation. But it had always been missing something to him. As grand as his factories were, and as many souls as he and his executives had gained to carry out the work, something was just never quite right. He had always hungered after something else, something from his past he hadn’t been able to take with him into the underworld.

Now, though. Now he had finally acquired the missing piece, and everything would finally be perfect.

One of the executives appeared in the doorway behind him. “The target you requested is nearly here, my associate.”

He nodded, not turning away from the window. “Very good. Bring him up to the office as soon as he gets here. I need to speak with him.”

“As you wish, my associate.”

He grinned a bit to himself. It had been years, but he was certain the man he was bringing here would be happy to see him again. They had been so close when they were younger, and he had never forgotten the time they spent together. He hoped that, even for old times sake, the man would want to stay with him a while. He hoped he would be impressed by everything he had created in his absence. It was all for him, after all.

The door creaked open behind him. “You have a visitor, my associate.”

He finally turned away from the window to face the door and watched as the man stumbled through into the office.

The years had certainly changed him. He was tall now, not short as he had been, but still as thin as ever, hair dark and messy and heavy circles beneath his eyes. One lens of his glasses was shattered, his clothes were ragged and torn, and there was a large dark stain cascading down the front of his shirt, coming from a mostly closed wound on his neck. Gods, even looking as terrible as he did, he was still as handsome as he had been when they were kids. He looked tired and frightened and horribly angry, but as soon as he saw him, he went completely pale in disbelief, jaw working furiously as he struggled to find something to say.

The man by the window grinned. “Hello, Petya. It’s been a while.”