#real couple fic

[nibbelraz]

before lbh came back to the human realm he asked mobei why he kept the most pathetic sopping wet peak lord about. mbj casually "oh sometimes i ask him things and it literally changes reality." what. mobei what. no seriously what the fuck do you mean. what do you mean he changes reality. what are you talking about. are you serious. are you fucking with him rn fr "he cant change people though" WHY WOULD YOU GET HIS HOPES UP THEN "i believe qinghua calls it a 'power move'."

THE WAY I CAN SEE MOBEI JUST CASUALLY SAYING HE LIKES HAVING A GOD AT HIS SIDE

[inhuman-obey-me]

🕶 with Barbatos please??👀 also yes on MC! (sorry for being specific, you can ignore it if you want but can it be directed at mc i'm not normal about Barb)

"I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide." - Barbatos/MC

content warning: blood, reference to torture/gore

Barbatos has a reputation.

It is one that you remind yourself of at times, when you get lost in his sweet words and even sweeter treats. Those soft smiles, his ever-readiness to serve, his meticulous attention to detail so that things were always perfect for you – he would insist you had him wrapped around your finger, but sometimes you wonder if it truly isn’t the other way around.

After all, while you loved that side of him – one that few had the privilege to witness – you could not help but be intrigued by the part of him that reigned in the shadows. 

The part of him that delighted in the slow torture of a traitor. The part of him that could use a knife to cut up a bleeding-heart artichoke just as deftly as an actual bleeding heart. The part of him that could drive someone mad just by warping the space around him, damning them to experience eternity in a matter of seconds. 

Perhaps you were a bit too intrigued, your morbid curiosity having led you now to wander the dark halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle in search of him. He was supposed to meet you at the foyer earlier, but when the ever-punctual demon was nowhere to be found, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to see if you could catch the consistently composed butler off-guard, unprepared. 

A fool’s quest.

You pass an archway and stop in your tracks, swearing you heard a faint scream from down below. A metallic scent pervades, your stomach churning as you take a step, and then another, and yet another – slowly descending the stairs, unsure of what you’ll find at the bottom. 

It’s dimly lit, torches along the walls flickering with magic flames. Your eyes adjust, and your heart nearly skips a beat as you see Barbatos in the distance. You dive behind a wall, peering around the corner to observe. 

He seems to be talking to someone, though you can’t see who. A cell, you think, as you notice the iron bars gating certain areas. The light catches on an object in his hand, something silver, and you realize he’s cleaning it off with cloth. Your own hands fish out your D.D.D., opening the camera function to zoom in and get a clearer look.

Oh.

He’s splattered with blood, standing in a pool of it. It’s a sight to behold, and you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. Slowly, your finger goes to the capture button, taking a photo of the scene. You duck back into the passage, checking to see how the shot turned out – and chills run down your spine as Barbatos seems to be looking straight into the lens. 

“Tsk, tsk.” Gloved fingers tightly wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn around to meet a dark gaze that you knew all too well. “I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide.” 

“B-Barbatos!” His name leaves your lips in a squeak. You don’t know how he got to you so fast, but you do know it’s better not to question it. “I-I’m sorry, you didn’t show up earlier and I got curious and wanted to look for you so I ended up down here and then I found you but I didn’t want to disturb you and –” 

He puts a halt to your rapid explanation with a single finger against your lips, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s not like me to forget or lose track of the time. I must make this up to you immediately.” He lets go of your wrist, examining you once over before taking a step back. “But first, I need to freshen up. Shall we go upstairs?” 

With a nod, you follow him back up to the brighter hallways of the castle, though he pauses once you’re at the landing. “...And what are you going to do with that photo?”

“Oh.” You can feel the warmth rush to your cheeks. “I, uh … just kind of wanted it for myself.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, see the way his lips twist into a smirk.  “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I can let your little reconnaissance slide. Next time, however,” he leans in close, breath ghosting your ear. “Just ask.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Pumpkin Carving (A Halloween One Shot)

Pumpkin carving and a sleepover. An excuse for everyone to gather together on Halloween now that the Party has decided they're too old to trick-or-treat.

A pumpkin carving station has been set up in the Harrington's giant three car garage. Steve did debate setting it all up in the yard, less cleanup of the pumpkin insides that way, but it was pretty chilly, and Steve wasn't sure how long they'd all take to do the actual carving.

Does pumpkin carving take long?

Steve's never carved a pumpkin so he wouldn't know. There is no universe in which his mother would have allowed a pumpkin in her house, much less under the circumstance of then cutting it open and freeing it of its insides. While Steve has never participated in the act of carving a pumpkin, he knows how it goes. Hypothetically.

He'd needed to know enough to gather all the supplies after all, so a quick call to Robin (along with some gentle teasing and mocking) and he was set.

Eddie arrives first, having been volunteered to go get the pumpkins from the patch. It's not that Steve is scared of the pumpkin patch, or anything, it's just that Eddie's van would be better for transporting them.

Steve tried to offer to unload them, insisting it was only fair since Eddie had to load them, but Eddie just rolls his eyes and gets to work. It's not that pumpkins are extra heavy, but they aren't exactly light. And Steve knows that Eddie thinks Steve doesn't want his help because of how long it took Eddie to heal, but that's not the reason. Steve just...

Steve's just drawn to watching instead of helping when Eddie grabs a pumpkin under each arm, muscles flexing as he tightens his hold enough to keep them trapped between his arms and his sides and now Steve's left wishing, wistfully and not for the first time, that it was his thighs Eddie was wrapping those arms around. That it was him Eddie was hoisting up, perhaps holding against a wall and-

"Am I going to do all the loading and unloading?" Eddie bursts his thoughts by knocking their shoulders together as he passes by, already on his second round of pumpkin unloading.

"What, no, sorry," Steve turns to grab two pumpkins of his own. It's quick work with the two of them, then, to unload, and a short wait for everyone to start showing up.

Some biked, others dropped off by parents. Steve walks out to each car to chat and confirm that yes, of course they can stay the night; they won't be a bother and I'll keep them out of trouble.

Soon enough the garage is full of people, pumpkins, and noise. Lucas and Max have migrated to the corner of the garage closest to the door leading inside to whisper together as Lucas guts two pumpkins while Max describes what she wants on hers. Will and Mike have also set themselves apart to work out whatever it is they plan to carve on their own pumpkins. Dustin, El, Erica, and Eddie have plopped down in the center and just got to work. They aren't coordinating their pumpkins like the couples seem to be doing. They do seem to be taking it the most serious, though, with the absolute silence from all of them, concentration faces fully on.

Steve is off on his own, too. He's taken a seat about five feet from Eddie but he's the furthest from the door. He frowns down at his pumpkin, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He's not sure how to start. What to do.

He looks up from his pumpkin and over to Eddie. He's using a knife to saw around the stem of the pumpkin. Which, duh. Steve should have put that together. There has to be some way to remove the insides easily, so removing the top made sense.

Without trying to overthink it all, Steve stabs into the top of his pumpkin and starts sawing his own circle around the top. It's. Well, it's something. He wouldn't say sawing a circle is fun but it's not tedious and soon enough his knife returns to the starting point and... Hmm. He watches as the bit he just cut around sags into his pumpkin. Eddie's didn't do that.

Steve frowns down at it for a moment before grabbing the stem and pulling the top off. His face wrinkles in disgust at the stringy clump of pumpkin insides that hang from the top and he sets that down to the side quickly. He's realizing now why everyone else chose to wear short sleeves even though it's cold outside as he looks around the garage and sees everyone shoving their hands into the pumpkin, pulling stringy, seedy, strands of pumpkin out.

With a sigh, Steve rolls a sleeve up and plunges his own hand into the holes he's made and almost instantly rips his hand back out. Ew. No. Gross! Wrong! The feeling of the strands breaking under the pressure of his hand, the slightly moist feeling of the inside, the unexpected slipperiness of the seeds, all of it sends a shiver of revulsion up Steve's spine. He makes a soft gagging noise against his own will.

"You gonna be sick?" Eddie asks almost immediately.

"Uh. Oh, yeah," Steve says as he feels his face heat with an embarrassed blush. He can see that all eyes are on him now, which adds to his embarrassment on top of realizing the question he was asked and what he answered. "Wait, I mean no. I'm not going to be sick."

Eddie looks from Steve to his pumpkin, and back up. "Don't like the feeling of pumpkin guts?"

"It was just unexpected is all," Steve defends, even as the thought of sticking his hands back into the pumpkin sends another shiver through him.

"Unexpected," Dustin repeats back. Steve tenses but nothing else follows that. He looks over and Dustin seems to be having a silent conversation with Eddie judging by the stare down.

"Maybe I am gonna be sick," Steve lies, standing quickly and fleeing the garage.

God fucking dammit. Why is he so embarrassed about this? Why is he... he's hiding the fact he's never done this before, and he doesn't know why. They aren't going to mock him for it. Well. Maybe a little, but in the same way Robin did. Tease him because they love him. They wouldn't really be making fun of him. Except maybe Mike but Steve doesn't really care about his opinion anyway. Gave up on that a while ago.

He goes to the kitchen sink on autopilot, scrubbing the gross, now dried and tacky feeling from his hand. He's in the process of drying his hands when a voice startles him.

"Hey man. You okay?"

It's Eddie. Of course, it's Eddie they would send after him.

"Yeah," he turns so his back is to the sink, leaning back against it to look at Eddie.

"You never have to scoop out a pumpkin before? Did someone else do it for you?"

If anyone else had asked, Steve would think it was condescending. Someone mockingly asking after nannies or servants who would do the gross part of pumpkin carving for the little rich kid. But it's Eddie, and he's just curious and sincere. So, Steve says, "nah, man. Just never done this before."

Eddie's browse crinkle in confusion and Steve thinks he's so fucking cute. He wants to kiss the confusion from his brow. "You've never carved a pumpkin before?"

Steve just gives a shake of his head before shrugging. He wants to cross his arms, close in on himself, but it's Eddie. He's trying to not shy away from the people he cares about. He's trying to let them take care of him, too.

(It's been a process, since the defeat of Vecna. Learning to let people care about him. He's better at it these days. Robin said so and if anyone is an expert on him, it's her. He can't always trust his own opinion to be unbiased.)

"I'll scoop out your pumpkin if you still want to give pumpkin carving a try," Eddie offers, a soft, lopsided smile on his face that Steve adores. The bats took a good chunk of his left cheek, and the scarring is heavy, the muscles non-responsive, so every smile is lopsided, but Steve loves them all.

"Okay," Steve says, offering a soft smile in return but doesn't push off the sink. Not until Eddie approaches, taking Steve's wrist and tugging him along.

No one says anything when they return to the garage, nor when Eddie blows past his own pumpkin to sit next to Steve and grab up his pumpkin. Eddie looks down at the hole Steve's carved, a calculated look on his face. It's cleared away soon enough when he smiles as wide as his scarred cheek allows before he gets to work on the pumpkin. He cleans it out thoroughly before handing it back to Steve, then crawls across the floor to retrieve his own abandoned pumpkin, rolling it across the floor as he crawls back.

"Oh, wait. Can you go get me a marker?" Eddie asks, as Steve is examining his pumpkin, trying to imagine a face to go on it.

"Yeah," Steve says, glad to have a moment more to think about the face as he fetches a marker from his father's office.

He returns to most of the kids having already finished their own pumpkins. Unsurprising, considering how much time Steve spent just thinking about carving before he even started.

"Marker," Steve offers it out after he's sat down again, close enough that his knee is touching Eddie's this time.

"Thanks," Eddie takes the marker and adjusts so more of his leg is pressing against Steve's. "So, you can freehand the face if you want, or I could draw you a face to cut out? If you want."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure," Steve says, shoving his pumpkin towards Eddie who looks delighted by Steve's answer. It doesn't take him long to draw on a face. Triangle eyes, a little rectangle nose, and a wide mouth filled with jagged teeth.

Steve and Eddie carve in quiet, while Steve basks in the warmth of Eddie's leg next to his, touching his. He's never been sure if Eddie likes him back, not enough to announce his own crush, but sometimes... There are times like this that fill him with hope.

Steve doesn't even realize they've been abandoned to the garage until Eddie finishes his pumpkin, which is three bats carved artistically into the side. Steve is impressed, and when he turns to ask if anyone else is, there isn't anyone there.

"Oh. I didn't even hear them leave."

Eddie plops the top of his pumpkin back on, which reminds Steve he needs to do the same. He reaches for his top but Eddie beats him to it, craving the gross mass of sides that was stuck to it off before handing it over it.

Steve sets the top back on the pumpkin, and it immediately drops into the pumpkin. "What. Why did it-?"

"You gotta cut the top into an odd shape or at an angle. Otherwise, that happens. But it's okay. You didn't know, and I know how to fix it. You got some toothpicks in your house?" Eddie says, assuring Steve before he even has time to overthink it.

Can Steve be any more in love with him at this point?

"What?" Eddie whispers, eyes wide and face slowly turning red.

"What?"

"You just... you, uhh. Did you not mean to say that out loud?"

"Say wha- oh God," Steve registers what he'd thought, or apparently, what he said and now he and Eddie are just staring at each other, wide-eyed and unmoving.

"I'm not going to question if you meant it," Eddie starts slowly, clearly the more brave one of the two, "just. I need to know if you mean it, like, romantically."

"I did. Do. I-" Steve can be brave, too. He can. "I do love you. Romantically."

"Holy shit. I want to pull you in and kiss you so bad but my hands are covered in pumpkin guts and-"

Steve does it for him, both hands grabbing at his face and pulling him in.

His first time carving a pumpkin ends up being fantastic, even counting the kids flooding back into the garage to scream 'finally' at them.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems

[m-o-o-n-f-i-r-e]

my favorite type of ship is 100% the ones where they have unending love and devotion and trust for each other. would do anything for the other. would do whatever the other said without question because they know that whatever it is, their partner knows what they are doing and they would trust them with their life. they could move mountains with their love. they would kill for their love. they would do anything for their love. everyone in the room can see that they are connected on the deepest level and will never be separated. nothing can break them apart. they are always on the same level, they know every thought that goes through their lovers head. when they are in a room together they control everything that happens. when they are apart they would tear up the earth to find each other. they would kill god for their love and give gods throne to their love. that kind of love is the best shit

[trensu]

have another snippet of stasis in darkness! just 'cuz i'm bored tbh, and kinda stuck on all my wips i'm currently working on.

The seventh night:

“Has he spoken to you yet?”

“How could he when you’re here yammering my ear off every night?”

“He’s a god, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for him to shut me up.”

“Even gods have their limits.”

“Oh, har har. The warrior’s got jokes. You didn’t answer my question.”

“...not yet,” Steve said stiffly. 

“It’s been how long now? A week?” The man hummed in a falsely thoughtful manner. “Maybe he’s just not that into you, man. Maybe he’s letting you down easy.”

At his words, Steve involuntarily curled his shoulders inward, slightly, ever so slightly, in defense. He'd been wondering that same thing earlier that day. Steve had toiled hours in the sun to fix up the shrine; to make it welcoming; to encourage a divine visit. 

He had stopped wearing his armor to free up more time to work. Putting it on and taking it off took too long, and he didn't have to maintain it as much if he wasn't wearing it regularly. He stuck to only his chainmail. He'd kept his shield stored away, too, so it wouldn't get in the way while he worked. Though, he made sure to keep his sword nearby.

He’d taken his knife and traced over the etchings of stars in the alcove that served as a backdrop to the statue. His knife had been ruined but it didn't matter. The Lord of Night would probably want the stars of his dark sky with him, he reasoned, and these had worn so thin. Sadly, it was the only detail he could bring out of all the stone. The statue’s face was so crumbled that Steve couldn’t even begin to guess what it had originally looked like.

He had discovered that the vines he chose to keep were moonflowers. They had blossomed every night since he’d removed the other more invasive plants. He'd draped them carefully so they lay across the statue's shoulders, wrapped lovingly around its torso and clung to its waist before the ends of the vines trailed off at the knees. 

The strange man might have made himself a nuisance during his visits but he never stayed the whole night. Steve had been able to get a few hours of makeshift prayers at the shrine every night. He’d done all this, yet dawn broke every day without a single sign that the Lord of Night had been listening.

“Warrior?”

Steve broke out of his reverie. He refused to look at the man. He had to clear his throat roughly before he could speak.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been rejected by someone I love." Steve tried not to dwell on his father's perpetual scowl and his mother's infinite disinterest. "I’m pretty used to my devotion being one sided by now.”

“That’s a bummer,” the man said. His sympathy was meant to be teasing, Steve could tell, but it came out surprisingly sincere. “Good thing you have a whole pantheon! Strong guy like you? Any god would take you to be their warrior in a heartbeat.”

“What are you talking about? No, I’m nowhere near done with his shrine,” Steve said determinedly. “I know a silversmith and a stone mason who’d give me a hand, and Dustin and Robin have been dying to come up here to bring him offerings. The only reason they didn’t come with me is because I had to do the pilgrimage on my own if I wanted a shot at earning his blessing.”

The man spluttered.

“Are you insane? A god rejects you and you’d come back? What kind of stupid–were you dropped on your head as a child?

“A couple times, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Are you sure? Have you checked? You should go to one of the gods of medicine. Owens, maybe. Have him take a look at your head,” the man huffed in frustration. "For stars' sake, why would you want to come back?"

He ignored the insult to his intelligence. For stars' sake. Steve murmured the words to himself, letting them settle in his mouth to get a feel for them. He'd never heard of that one before. He liked how it rolled off the tongue, natural as anything. 

The man waited for his response. Steve took a moment to try to sort out his words. He kept his head bowed towards the shrine as he ruminated.

“People barely remember my god,” Steve finally said. “And when they do, they remember him as something he’s not. Even if he doesn’t believe I’m worthy of carrying his crest, he shouldn't be forgotten.” 

The man said nothing. Steve took a shuddering breath before the quiet could take over. 

“Having someone forget you is…it’s very lonely. Which is the worst feeling. I…I guess I don’t want him to be lonely anymore.”

The silence that followed his statement stretched long enough that Steve started falling into that meditative state he’d learned during his many nights at the shrine. It helped dull the twisted up, unsteady sensation that lingered from the man’s prodding at his every self-doubt and fear.

“He hasn’t rejected you yet, though,” the man broke Steve's musings awkwardly.

“He hasn’t reached out to me either. It’s fine. I’ll keep coming either way.”

Another silence. It was around the time the man usually left Steve to his worship. He didn't hear retreating footsteps. Instead, the man cleared his throat, and when Steve looked up at him, the man turned his face away, shrouding it in gloom.

“Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted you yet.”

“Nervous? No way.”

“He sounds like a godly weirdo,” the man said. “Maybe he’s never had a holy warrior before and doesn’t know what to do.”

“He’s the good kind of weirdo! And there’s no way he’s not had a warrior carry his symbol. He must’ve had loads back in the day. I probably don’t meet his standards,” Steve smiled lopsidedly, playing off his insecurity.

“I’m serious!” the man exclaimed. “It’s possible! Some gods never get warriors. Some never want them at all!

“Look, even if I was the first to offer to be his, he’d know he didn’t have to be nervous,” Steve insisted. "I’ve never served a god before either! I wasn’t sure I could have faith at all until I learned about him. So like, if he’s new to it then so am I, and we’d figure it out together.”

“...you really mean that, don’t you? You’d let him make it up on the fly if he took you on.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugged.

“You’d keep coming back even if he rejected you?”

“Yep.”

“But why? That’s so stupid. Nobody would do that!” The man sounded frustrated.

“I’m not really known for my smarts,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Robin and Dustin had to translate the only book we found about the Lord of Night because I definitely wouldn't have been able to. It was a tiny book but it still took them ages to do because the language doesn’t really exist anymore. So they told me it’s possible it’s not accurate. It felt true, though, to me. 

“There was this quote, I can’t recite it word for word, but…it was something about how monsters don’t always look monstrous, and the monstrous aren’t always things to be feared.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” the man protested. Steve shook his head.

“No, it’s true! Like, I know I’ve got a pretty face and really great hair,” he smirked when he heard the man scoff, “but I was such a fucking asshole when I was younger. I went around hurting people on purpose, tearing them down for no reason other than I was hurting too, and that’s the shittiest reason to hurt anyone. I had to get some sense knocked into me by the people I call friends now. 

“My friends are the greatest people I know, and I’m really lucky to have them, but to everyone else? My friends are losers. They’re rejects because they don’t act right or they don’t look right; they talk too much or too loudly. People treat them like shit because they're different. 

“And after I noticed that, I started seeing it more even if I don’t always pick up on it. And I still mess up sometimes. I'm not a god, I can't change the world but…in the stories Robin and Dustin translated, the Lord of Night helped people like my friends because it was always the weak and rejected that try to hide themselves in the dark. I want to help those people find him again so they know they’ve got someone holy in their corner. They should know someone loves them enough to protect them.”

Steve didn’t really know where all those words came from; he wasn’t a wordsmith like Robin and Dustin. He always had a hard time verbalizing his thoughts, and he usually messed up the words. Nonetheless, these words had almost burned to be said. 

When the speech that flowed from him finally reached a natural end, he felt…lighter, cleaner. He felt like his shield and sword when they were polished to a shine. But when he turned to see his audience’s reaction, the man had gone. Steve felt strangely dejected instead.

–

The eighth night:

“Hey, it’s me again. My supplies are low and I don’t know what your thoughts about hunting on your land are so I’d rather not…I don’t want you to think I’m disrespecting you. I might have to leave soon to get more supplies,” Steve swallowed nervously. “Which isn’t an ult..ultimate…? No, damn, what is it called? I’m not trying to force you to talk to me before then, is what I mean. Not–not that I could! With you being a god.” 

Steve scoffed at his own blundering. He should’ve had Robin help him make speech notes. Cards with conversation starters. Something! He took a deep breath and tried again.

"But I'm coming back, I promise. I meant what I said about fixing up your shrine. I’ll commission a new plaque and I’ll talk to the stonemason about replacing your plinth. I don’t know a lot about sculpture, but I’ll get you the strongest type of stone and get something nice carved on it. Your flowers? Or cats? Cats are cute. Maybe your bats would be better…?” Steve trailed off.

It was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The full moon illuminated the area more than ever before. The shrine must have really been a beautiful sight back in its heyday. The thought of it sent a pang of longing through his soul.

The hour came that the strange man usually showed up. Steve steeled himself for another round of questions, another jab at his faith. The hour went by with Steve alone in the clearing. Steve frowned.

“Do you think he’s okay?” 

Steve’s question went unanswered.

After another hour without seeing his stranger, Steve had finally convinced himself to round the perimeter for a quick check in case the man was nearby or in need of assistance. When he found nothing, he checked again in case he missed something. 

Still nothing. Uneasily, Steve gave up his search and returned to the shrine. He knelt before it again, head bowed. He cleared his throat.

“Lord of Night, I don’t know his name, and I know he’s been rude–annoying–but could you please watch over the man? Please keep him safe from harm for as long as the stars shine tonight. Thank you.”

He received no response, but Steve had faith. He knew he was heard. He knew his god wouldn’t let an innocent come to harm if he could prevent it.

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you’d like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[mxtxfanatic]

It’s actually kind of amazing that Luo Binghe’s fandom personality is The Crybaby, because just off the top of my head, I can really only remember three places where Luo Binghe cries in the entire book: at Maigu Ridge, when he thinks he’s hurt Shen Qingqiu irreparably (again) during their first time in the Bing-ge vs. Bing-mei extra, and in the flashback of Luo Binghe being “accepted” as Shen Qingqiu’s disciple, where the narration clearly states that was the last time Luo Binghe allowed himself to cry ever again. I think Shen Qingqiu may have cried more times in the novel than him, actually 😭

[scoops-stevie-archive]

in the three months leading up to steve meeting the rest of eddie's family, eddie has taken it upon himself to run steve through a crash course in the munson family cookbook. they'll be in kentucky the whole summer so steve has to be prepared.

tonight, eddie said he was making steaks.

when steve gets to the trailer after work, eddie's frying something in the skillet that obviously does not smell like any steak he's ever eaten.

"uh, eddie?"

eddie looks over his shoulder. "hey, sweetheart!"

steve sets his keys on the table before walking over and looking over eddie's shoulder. he's even more confused. "i thought you said we're having steak?"

"we are," eddie nods toward the skillet.

"that doesn't look like it."

eddie rolls his eyes and turns around to face him. "not steak from a cow," he says, like it's obvious (it is not, in fact, obvious). "it's bologna."

steve resists the urge to rub at his temples. instead, he puts his hands on eddie's hips and rubs his thumbs over the little tease of skin between his shirt and jeans.

"baby, i don't think bologna counts as steak."

"it does for us poor folk." eddie reaches up and grabs steve's nose, gently giving it a shake. "we call it poor man's steak. real steak's expensive so we gotta use what we can afford." he gestures behind him. "so, bologna."

steve doesn't remember the last time he ate bologna, or if he did at all. all his meals consisted of whatever his mom cooked and it definitely wasn't any of the things eddie had made him so far.

(don't tell his mom, but eddie's food is way better. he can taste the love it was made with.)

"it does smell pretty good," steve concedes. his stomach gives a growl. he hadn't eaten lunch because he was so excited for a steak dinner.

eddie grins and reaches for the loaf of bread on the counter. "pick your poison, then, stevie-boy!" he sweeps his hand over the options of toppings: mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato. "we're eatin' like kings tonight!"

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

[kissvamps]

honey heat: prologue

pairing: riri williams x black!oc

synopsis: when riri finds a young woman sleeping under her mother’s pecan tree during a bad thunderstorm, she isn’t expecting to get used to seeing the stranger’s face. but when the storm clears up unusually fast and the crops in her mother’s farm bounce back from the mid-june heatwave, riri can’t help but wonder about the pretty stranger with an odd taste for honey.

special dt to @clinicallykrazy, thee biggest evangeline enthusiast HAPPY BIRTH MONTH SISTER

series warnings: gay bitches from like the late 1800s early 1900s??, cowboy!riri, they live on a farm but they also have some horses so there’s a little ranch area too, nymph!oc (i love earth fairy lore, eve is my cutie patootie), lesbian yearning, eve is a little bit obsessive ngl, interesting relationnships with god/religion, death but it’s not anybody deserving of love or it’s on accident lmao, magical woo woo shit, FAWK time, tank tops are a thing cuz it’s essential for cowboy butch riri, racial tensions but trust they get handled, eve is a bit unhinged but who isn’t?

a/n: ntm on these long ass sentences and paragraphs cuz i wrote this in creative writing class and the formatting i used was different but i hope yall enjoy!!

—

Evangeline wasn’t stupid, she was far from it. She knew why her mother urged her not to sing, not to tell the garden of her perils, not to rejoice in the nearby river. Nature laid in the palm of her hand. She was terribly familiar with it, the way the sun treasured her skin, the way the trees hung off her every word. Her mother called it an illness but Evangeline knew what it was. Much more than a gift, this was ethereal. Evangeline had god in her.

It was the easiest to resonate with the life around her with song. They loved her song, the way god spilled from her lips like honey. The trees swayed gleefully and the wind whistled a supporting melody while the garden animals flattered her with their charmed chatter. The young woman sang and sang, ‘til night fell sometimes. The moon would greet her just as enthusiastically as the sun, setting a fairy glow over her. This was only when it was good, when god was good, when Evangeline felt good.

Her mother, Rosemary, had strong reason for casing her daughter in these emotional bubbles. As a baby, her cries had started endless thunderstorms. Always knocking down the distant power lines of cities and unearthing the beloved trees, Earth was eager to bow to Evangeline, to correspond with her mood. Evangeline, Earth, and God were all one, and this was simply the way things worked.

The worst it’s ever been was Evangeline’s first heartbreak; her best friend, Kiara, moved away to a small country where her father could find better work. The Earth ate away at itself, tearing the surrounding forestry apart, stripping the sky of any light because why should anyone see light in such a dark hour in Evangeline’s life? Evangeline split the Earth’s ground as lightning tore through the darkened sky.

Thunder roared over the sound of the little girl crying for her friend, the only other girl her age for miles, the only friend she had that didn’t despise her for the way god flowed from her eyes. Her mother and father struggled to console the little girl, bursting with lightning shaped-scars and sobs that coincided with the booming of thunder. No matter how tight they held her she kept crying.

Of course, it wasn’t all bad. Especially not to Evangeline, she loved being so close to nature, able to hear the inquiries of rose bushes as if they were her own thoughts, having the love of sun radiate in her heart, it was dream-like for her. Her mother, Rosemary, worried deeply for her daughter. When she was much younger, Rosemary witnessed her mother battle the ‘illness’ that swallowed Evangeline whole.

Over and over again, Rosemary watched her mother struggle to keep the lightning in her fingertips, to the ocean coasting over her emotions. By the time Rosemary was Evangeline’s age, moonlight was already starting to favor her presence, all while her mother fought to distinguish herself from her Earth, from her God. Nothing helped and by the time she passed her death brought a wave of grief to her Earth and anger to her God.

Plenty of the shrubs and old growth trees behind the house fell over in a way that would suggest they uprooted themselves, the wind blew a mournful hymn and the animals were scarce besides the few that fell so ill they suffered a fate similar to Rosemary’s mother. Rosemary had learned to suppress it, feed her Earth laughter and joy every few weeks and pray that her God didn’t find her sorrows or her rage.

Rosemary kept her Earth fed and her God sedated almost always. She couldn’t help hurting, though. As much as nature loved to cater to her, she was still human, still feeling. Her mother’s death almost rocked the cradle too hard, just a few weeks before Evangeline was born. Rosemary tried to travel where her Earth’s grief couldn’t touch her but she was surrounded. Isaiah was good though, he was an anchor through all that storming pain and heartache.

He was a good man, a good father to Evangeline, too, but still she felt he didn’t fit into her view of life. Isaiah wasn’t hard to look at, he was somewhat funny, and well-skilled with mechanics and botany, subjects Rosemary loved dearly. But Isaiah disrupted the calm she worked so hard to give her Earth and the tranquility she fed her God.

Sometimes she’d just look at him and frown, hear him speak and be beyond irritated with his existence. It wasn’t any help that Evangeline favored her more, Isaiah always second place. It wasn’t like he was bad to either of them, Rosemary just quietly wished he’d go away and Evangeline heard those whispers.

Her mother was always too busy trying to keep her God comatose that she had no clue their Earths talked to one another. One of many factors of why Evangeline favored her mother. When her mother slept at night after another day numbing her God, her Earth would reiterate some of those secrets to an Evangeline much too awake to turn her own mother’s Earth away.

Rosemary’s Earth bustled through the leaves of the shrubs next to Evangeline’s bedroom window and the new moon would cast a menacing shadow on the energetic hummingbirds that, much like Evangeline, were too full of life to sleep tonight.

And these hummingbirds chirped out the thoughts Rosemary was too scared to let her Earth hear, let her God know of. But they knew better than Rosemary did. She kept them too starved to do anything but tell, and tell they did. Evangeline’s Earth was much too connected to her to be restrained.

The wind howled as the young oak tree, barely as old as Evangeline that day, reached its branches into her parent’s bedroom and inched further and further until the branches snagged on kin. Her mother slept a restless sleep as the beloved oak tree turned Isiah into an ornament. Evangeline didn’t mean to let the branches grow that far, she didn’t even intend for her Earth to react to her mother’s secrets.

She told this to her mother when she woke, uncharacteristically distraught at the news, and Rosemary only had words of contempt for the young fae.

“Always. It’s always unintentionally. That’s your problem, you never mean to cause thunder showers, you never mean to put your father in an early grave because you never meant to do anything. You let your Earth siphon your emotions right from your heart, you can’t control it. You never could.” Her mother ranted to her with conflicting tears running down her face.

Evangeline’s Earth sent two twin flashes or lightning at her mother’s harshness.

“It wasn’t even on purpose! And you’re acting like you’re gonna miss him, like you could even stand to look at him. You’ll forget what he looks like by next week, momma!”

The truth in Evangeline’s worlds shook Rosemary so deeply a harrowing symphony of a storm began outside. The lights shut off barely a moment later. “Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean you gotta send him to kingdom come.” Rosemary’s voice broke as she whispered to her daughter in the dark.

“You still saying that like I did it, like I did it on purpose, like I wanted it to happen.” Evangeline spat out, tears of her own welling in her eyes as the storm outside worsened, tree limbs loudly knocking on the windows in a manner that suggested they were trying to check on the two women.

“Just cuz you can’t stand the love I have for my power doesn’t mean you gotta blame me for everything my powers do.” The young fae huffed angrily at her mother. All this upset over a man her mother could hardly stand being in a room with, it was unbelievable to Evangeline.

“I didn’t love him like a wife does, I hardly liked him to be truthful, but he made me feel like I could be normal, like if I ignored my God enough, kept my earth happy, it’d be just like I was normal.” Rosemary spoke so softly her daughter was unsure of whether or not she meant to say it outloud. The confession brought a swirl of understanding and pain to Evangeline’s chest. It was common for the younger woman to try and socialize, make a friend, or even just enjoy a book and be hit with the reminder that felt like a tidal wave; she wasn’t normal. Never would be.

She considered herself lucky compared to her mother, Rosemary. She’d cried away her contempt for herself, her Earth, her god, when she was still little. Rosemary had this hatred festering for herself for decades. Marrying Isaiah for the sake of trying to gain a form of normalcy couldn’t have been helpful.

“We’re normal to us, they normal to themselves. Don’t hate yourself for that, it won’t make you any less earthly.” Evangeline spoke warmly to her mother, hugging her to try and provide some comfort to a sobbing Rosemary. The two sat there crying for a while, the storm outside lightening to a soft drizzle, the trees swaying as Rosemary’s sobs lessened. By the time the sun returned the mother and daughter were tiptoeing around a question that needed an answer, and soon.

“What’re we gonna do with him, momma? He might start stinking up the house soon.”

Isaiah’s body was disposed of in the typical way. Incineration had become increasingly common amongst people as decades passed and Rosemary and her daughter figured it would make answering any questions easier. Especially those asked by figures that were too nosy and emboldened by their badges to stick their nose in things they couldn’t begin to comprehend. Once Isaiah was cremated the two decided to put him in a deep blue urn.

Evangeline giggled, “You know this was one of his least favorite colors?” Her mother dropped her jaw at the news in disbelief.

“You let me pick out that urn, Evie, why you ain’t tell me?” The younger woman simply shrugged and played innocent, twirling one of her braids around her finger, “I mean, you the one that married him.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes at her daughter’s antics. Her father had just passed, partially due to her own emotions, and here she was having a laugh about letting her mother stick him in an urn of his most hated color. She smiled after a while though, seeing the joy and brightness in her daughter’s smile. Rosemary much preferred her daughter’s mirthful attitude than the tears that fell from her eyes like water from a broken dam.

—

Evangeline and her mother began to return to normal, a better normal, actually. Rosemary would help Evangeline with the garden and she taught her mother how to connect with her own earth and her god, how not to let them rule her. “I love my earth and my god, you fear yours. That’s the difference.” She explained to her mother with an understanding smile on her face.

Just as her mother began to finally make peace with her earth, she left. Left Evangeline.

—

Rosemary had just begun to find peace in her Earth, truly understand her God, and then she passed. Barely a year after Isaiah, Rosemary left her daughter all alone with her Earth and her god. Evangeline cried and screamed so much the first few days after, the rural area she lived in was practically washed away by the downpour of tears her Earth shed and the furious howls of her god blowing away any and everything besides for the little home housing a young woman too tired to be meek. Even if she wanted to, Evangeline couldn’t stop her Earth from pulling itself apart and her god lashing out at whatever it saw fit. The same way she was connected to her god and her earth, they were connected to her.

Whenever her god tore trees up by their roots, Evangeline would have to weep. Evangeline and her only companions, her Earth and her god, grieved together like that just long enough for Evangeline to have cried herself sick. All her screaming sobs only strained her voice until it was no more than a whisper. Evangeline opened the door of the house pleadin for the sunshine to hold her since her mother could no longer wrap her arms around her. There was an unusual briskness to the air, it was well into late summer, the sticky humidity of July should’ve been clinging to her skin. Her grief was all around her, suffocating her with the strange chill in the air and the knee-high flood water caused by her own grief.

Dragging her feet, Evangeline swayed eerily back and forth as she trudged forward. The young woman had no destination in mind but she couldn’t keep this up, screaming herself sick in the home that held every single memory she’d ever have of her mother. It wasn’t a safe place for her to grieve. And even if it was safe, she didn’t want to grieve.

Evangeline trekked on through the flooded valley, barefoot and stumbling over herself when her mind replayed particularly wondrous memories with her mother. It hit her that was an orphan, a motherless child. Though she was an adult, she was still so young, she needed the guidance of her mother, the protection and safety of her love. Evangeline felt like nothing she cared for could stick around. Not the pet squirrel she had when she was five, not the pet rock she adored when she was 10, not her best friend when she was 13, not her mother that taught her so much and learned from Evangeline as well.

A dull ache settled firmly in the center of Evangeline’s chest as it began storming again. The fear and despair rolling over her distorted her perception so bad she wasn’t even sure if all this storming was her doing. She didn’t feel strong enough to put a could in the sky, let alone bring about a downpour like this. Evangeline was so far from that little house she and her family lived in, that little shoebox full of life and love, it was ages away now. Her lips would be cracked if not for the rain, and for the first time in her life, she had bags under her eyes and a dullness to her brown skin. All the cold, wet weather was gonna get her sick. The girl didn’t even get allergies but she could feel an unfamiliar itch at the back of her throat and the congestion in her sinuses. Barefoot, sick, and too far from home, Evangeline fell dizzy as the dread spilled down on her in sharp, icy rain drops.

—

Evangeline found herself wrapped up in a quilt. She could tell it was handmade from the stitches, for a moment she’d mistaken it for a new project her mother was working on. It felt like vines of ivy were twisting around her heart when she remembered that wasn’t possible, that her mother was gone. The reminder also brought an intense sense of fear to the young fae. She’d wandered away from home trying to negate some of the overwhelming burden of her own grief. Evangeline had no clue where she was and was scared to find out. This was no time of guaranteed safety for women like her, there hadn't been a time like that in this country, ever.

Another realization; she was in new clothes. These clothes were made for someone quite a bit shorter than she was. The shirt she had on had loose sleeves that stopped just shy of her wrists and the waist was wide, she guessed they were old maternity clothes. Her pants fit loose as well, a bit tight around her waist and stopping well above her ankles. Evangeline was more than grateful though. No one who intended to harm her would give the clothes off their back and a warm bed in their house.

Evangeline was still a bit scared but reminded herself there was no need to be. If there was true danger here, her Earth would’ve stretched blossoming tendrils of vegetation to tickle her ear and pull her out of her slumber to observe the danger. Her Earth and her god were just parts of her but her mother knew well enough to teach her daughter how to protect herself with this gift.

Quietly easing out of the comfort of the mattress, Evangeline crept out of the room to meet whoever was kind enough to save her from her own grief. A small frown began to form on the young woman’s face as she tiptoed around the cozy house, only to find it was currently empty.

Briefly, Evangeline pondered the possibility of her own abilities saving her from that storm but she quickly dismissed it. Someone, multiple someones, lived here. And a small animal, judging by the two little bowls just outside the kitchen. Creeping towards the front door, Evangeline took in a deep breath to calm herself again.

—

Evangeline’s heart was still heavy beyond words with the loss of her mother but the hot, humid air of late July in the south was refreshing, comforting.

Almost immediately after stepping outside, her eyes found someone plucking some ripe fruits from a tree that was much, much older than Evangeline. The tree also looked to be much older than the person gathering its fruit. She was young, Evangeline’s powers could actually tell her how old exactly, but she figured she shouldn’t do that to the stranger that’d been kind enough to take her in.

The stranger had rich brown skin just a few shades lighter than the lively dark brown bark of the fruit tree she busied herself with. Her shirt was the same material as Evangeline’s but the sizing was much different, the same going for the stranger’s pants, which were rolled up to her calves. The stranger had her coily hair pulled away from her face in cornrows that tickled her shoulders.

Evangeline walked away from the cover of the house and closer to the farming stranger, wanting to get a better look at her. Evangeline walked further from the cover of the house and closer to the farming stranger to get a better look at her face, which was beautiful from what Evangeline could see so far. Brown eyes framed with dark lashes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a wide nose and full lips. She reminded Evangeline of a painting she’d been obsessed with when she was little.

“They don’t say hello where you from?”

The sudden speech shocked the young fae. For a moment, she thought she heard it in her head. When the stranger fully turned her face to Evangeline, and the sounds of fruit being plopped gently into a weaved basket stopped, she realized the speech was indeed real. This stranger wasn’t some figment of her imagination.

“Sorry, I’m Evangeline. You the one I should be thanking?” Evangeline kept her eyes on the leaves just above the young woman’s head, preferring that over direct eye contact. She found direct eye contact to be strange most times, especially with strangers.

“You can thank my mama when she get back from the market, I’m just the one who took you out that rain. Well, me and June.” The stranger grinned a little at the end of her sentence as she returned to her tedious task, her eyes set on something off in the distance.

Turning around to see what had grabbed the kind stranger’s attention, Evangeline saw an adorable puppy with sandy fur and umber patches running towards her. She giggled as the small dog pawed at her leg, whining for the new stranger to pick them up.

“What’s your name?” Evangeline questioned the young woman as she picked up the energetic puppy. June immediately began yipping as the fae scratched under her chin.

“Mamma named me Amary, something to do with them flowers she love so bad.”

Amary. Amary. Amary. Amary. Evangeline let the name roll around in her head, making an effort to stick Amary’s name to her face. She knew exactly what flower Amary was talking about, too. A beautiful winter flower that was red.

“Amary like Amaryllis?” Again, Evangeline asked Amary a question. This time, the friendly stranger climbed down the wooden ladder with the basket full of fruit up against her hip, chuckling at Evangeline’s curiosity.

“You a bit nosey, huh?” Amary joked with the other young woman while guiding her to the little table set up on the porch of the house. “Now, you wanna help me pit these plums and tell me where you from while we wait for my mama to get back?”

Evangeline smiled softly as she took in the scenery of the place, felt the livelihood of nature, the warmth of this stranger’s actions. She gave Amary a nod as she headed to sit down at the table with her. Evangeline and her Earth felt a bit of peace, her God full of hope.

Maybe, just for a while, she could grow here.

[purplepixel]

Spur of the moment out of context sketches from Spider's Web with Strings Attached. Might not seem like it, but I've been going through a mini burn out spell due to overworking myself the past week and allowing myself to create messy sketches of this fic has been a small comfort. So once again, thank you @psychologicalwarclaire for writing this fic. Will always be incredibly thankful I found this gem in the depths of my ao3 searching.

[petite-phthora]

Da da da... he’s dead

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 6]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

In-chat nicknames:

OGnerd = Jason

---

Miss Harleen Quinzel had been having a relaxing evening on the couch with Bud and Lou when she gets a message on her phone. Seeing it’s from Red Hood, who barely texts… well anyone, she quickly opens it.

All he sent her is an image. There’s no text accompanying it and Red Hood already went offline. Harley looks at the selfie Red Hood sent her.

It doesn’t seem like anything special until she sees the body on the floor next to him in the picture.

She freezes.

A big grin stretches across her face and she starts laughing. Not a giggle or a cackle, just a full-blown belly laughter full of happiness and relief and with tears gathering in her eyes.

From another room, her girlfriend’s voice sounds.

“Harls? Are you alright?”

---

An announcement had just been made of the Joker having escaped Arkham once again. And just when Tim thought tonight couldn’t have gotten any worse, Jason sent a message in the groupchat.

---

28 days without the Joker breaking out of Arkham

OGnerd: Due to personal reasons I won’t be patrolling Crime Alley tonight

OGnerd: Don’t follow me.

---

And, Jason being Jason, immediately turned his phone off after sending the messages.

So of course, Tim immediately went to follow him. After updating the groupchat name…

Fortunately for Tim, and unfortunately for Jason, Jason has not been informed of Tim’s stalker tendencies yet. Jason knows he’s nosy, but is unaware of the actual following people around and spying on them aspect.

It was child’s play for Tim to follow the tracker in Jason’s helmet to see him visit… a flower shop?

Tim’s first thought is that he might be following a lead of some kind seeing as he’s in his Red Hood outfit and all. But that thought evaporates the moment Jason walks out of the flower shop with a bouquet of… are those sweet peas?

Slightly bewildered, Tim continues to stalk follow Jason from a safe distance as he steps onto his motorcycle and leaves the flower shop.

He follows him to an apartment complex, where he sees Jason proceed to knock on someone’s window, flowers in hand, rather than just breaking in.

Tim watches as someone opens the window and after a while gets led outside by Jason and eventually down onto the ground and to the motorcycle.

Perplexed at how gentle Jason seems to be with the random dude, Tim barely remembers to move after them when they leave again on the motorcycle.

---

Tim could hear the yelled question from outside.

“THAT CLOWN I PUNCHED WAS THE JOKER?!”

That sentence leaves Tim with so many questions.

Not only has Jason’s friend— date? — interacted with the Joker. But he has also punched him, and all that without even knowing that it was, in fact, the Joker.

Watching as the guy put his head on the table in embarrassment, even making Jason concerned for the guy, Tim can only think that damn, Jason really knows how to pick them, huh.

Tim decides to leave them alone. It seems likely that Jason and his mystery boo had something to do with the Joker still not having made an appearance, but he’ll interrogate Jason about it later. He’d rather not be found out and killed for stalking Jason on his date, thank you very much.

While he’s moving further away from them, his coms crack to life with B’s voice.

“Everyone. Meeting at the clock tower in 10. Don’t be late.”

Tim swallows as he changes course to head to the clock tower.

Now, how to keep everyone off Jason’s back so he doesn’t commit familicide?...

---

Once everyone minus Jason was at the clock tower, they got the debrief.

The Joker had escaped Arkham two days ago, and no one has heard anything from him since. Not only that, but they didn’t even know he was gone until a day later.

It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, even Dick came from Bludhaven to help out on the search.

After the debrief is done and they’re about to start the search, B suddenly speaks up again.

“Where’s Red Hood?”

His response is silence as no one speaks up, just awkwardly glancing around. Dick almost started whistling but got elbowed in the gut by Damian. Steph, does, start whistling quietly.

B wasn’t deterred, however. With a sigh, he talks into the coms.

“Oracle—”

“Already on it. I’m currently trying to trace the tracker in his helmet and remotely turn on the cam and audio footage.”

There’s a pause in her speech.

“It looks like there’s some strange interference. The cam footage is being corrupted, and so the is audio.”

B’s expression stays stoic as always.

“The tracker?”

“Glitching. It almost looks like it’s teleporting around the map. It won’t give me one specific location and even disappears entirely every few seconds.”

B lets out a grunt before Babs continues.

“Though it looks like the places the tracker appears are all quite close to each other, so I might be able to interpolate the coordinates of the teleporting tracker and determine a general area for his location.”

“You know,” Tim speaks up foolishly, “in my personal opinion, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. We should probably just leave him alone for the night“

Tim sweats as he can feel B’s gaze on him as he replies to Oracle. “Keep us updated”

---

They had split up and searched for two hours so far, stopping some minor crime on the way, but they hadn’t been able to find any clue as to where the Joker might be.

Oracle has managed to find the moment of his escape on the cameras, but after a while the files start to glitch and the rest of them are completely missing. Someone wiped the files.

They decided to regroup at the clock tower to discuss some more strategies.

“Oracle, report on Red Hood’s location.”

“I tried to get the general location of the tracker and I traced it all the way back to a restaurant, but I’m almost certain it just started moving. I’m currently tracing its path to try and extrapolate the new location.”

“Good. Keep us updated.”

Tim tries to speak up when Oracle starts talking again.

“Oracle here. I think the tracker is moving towards… the Gotham Observatory?”

“What the hell is Jason doing at the observatory?” Duke wonders.

Going on a date with a mysterious twink who’s definitely not a native Gothamite and seems to randomly punch clowns?

At first, Tim couldn’t believe Jason going on a date with someone seemingly so oblivious/naïve.

But when he puts it like that… yeah, ‘mysterious twink that punches the Joker without knowing it’ sounds like it would be Jason’s type…

“No real names.” Is B’s response, evoking some eye-rolls.

“Nightwing, go check on Red Hood at the observatory. Observation only, but step in if necessary. Report back”

B probably sent Nightwing cause he’s the least likely to get maimed by a pissed-off Red Hood.

Before Dick is able to take off, Tim nervously speaks up “You know guys, I think we should just leave him be for tonight and focus on finding the Joker”

The silence on the roof and across the coms speaks volumes.

B is the first one to speak up.

“Why are you covering for him?”

“I’m not covering for him!” is Tim’s immediate response.

He is, but if he revealed anything he has found out, Jason would murder him when (not if) he finds out.

B raises an eyebrow at him.

“Ohhh, Timbo’s been keeping secrets~— Ow!” Steph is heard saying, before being elbowed by Cass.

The others stay silent as they watch the exchange.

Damnit, why did Alfred have to teach B that eyebrow raise?

Tim caves.

“Alright, I am covering for him. But I can’t tell you what for. He’ll kill me”

Damian scoffs “Todd probably bribed Drake to keep his mouth shut. Don’t worry, I can make him talk”

Damian tries to step forward, katana raised, but gets held back by the scruff of his Robin costume by Dick.

“Richard, let me go!—”

“Nope, Little D. Let’s not commit fratricide today”

B doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Red Robin, if you have information on Red Hood and the Joker—“

“It has nothing to do with the Joker, I swear!” Tim tries. “Jason is just… having a relaxation day! He’s taking a uh, small break.”

Well, it probably has something to do with the Joker, but Tim has plausible deniability.

“So we shouldn’t bother him today, uh, at all. He really needs this, uh, self-care day. I mean have you seen the amount of grey hairs he’s been getting from the stress lately?”

The sound of Damian’s struggling against Dick’s hold is the only thing he hears.

B is just silently glaring at him.

“He’s on a date!” Tim bursts out.

…

Fuck.

The only sounds that break the silence are the small ‘oompf’ from Damian as he is dropped by Dick and Dick’s excited squeak of “Little Wing is on a date?!”

Uh oh.

---

Somewhere far away, in another realm, a manic cackle echoes across an expanse of green.

---

Taglist (for now, I’ll probably stop if I cant keep up):

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing

[thisisnotkitty]

Ness tending to Mike's injuries 😭

me when i steal the scene from the movie and make it securitywaiter

-so yknow when mike is like “yeah ill trade in abby for garrett (which like why did he do that lmao) and gets just like mauled by the animatronics

-anyways instead of vanessa finding him ness had actually gone in to snoop around freddy’s bc thats what he does as a conspriacy theorist

-he gets there just in time to save mike but mike’s like,, OUT so he takes him back to his apartment to fix him up

-while mike takes a while to wake up ness begins cleaning his wounds and stitching him up and there’s a brief moment when mike is nearly all cleaned up that he looks kinda peaceful(?) lying on ness’s couch and ness is like “huh” but he doesn’t quite get why his heart speeds up a bit

-as ness finishes cleaning him up he starts humming and singing gently and it kinda wakes mike up but he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite open his eyes fully so he’s just like “are you an angel?” bc he fully thought he died back there lmao

-and ness just laughs and goes “i’m fully human as far as i know. the name’s ness and i found you at freddy’s which is lucky for you bc it looked like you were in a bit of trouble there” bc he’s cheeky like that

-and mikes still a little dazed and confused from the blood loss but still he’s like “wait a minute… narrows eyes why were You at freddy’s”

-ness is just like “well you see it’s a long story” and mike just looks down at this injuries with a look that says well i’m clearly not going anywhere soon so i’ve got time

-ness starts explaining the fnaf lore while bandaging up mike and mike is trying to pay attnetion bc this is kinda imp but he can’t help but get distracted with how gentle ness is handling his arm and maybe he’s still a bit dazed but he swears this guy’s voice is a bit melodic and oh. oh.

-mike hasn’t really been in the dating scene much bc of abby so when he realizes that he might be developing a crush on this guy he’s known for a grand total of 30 minutes (and he was only awake for 10 of those) he begins to panic a bit

-uhhhh yeah. they go back to freddys and vanessa’s there and they save abby and it’s pretty much the last bit of the movie but w ness there now! (i couldn’t figure out how to end this im so sorry)

prompts, hcs, whatever random thoughts you guys have on these silly little fellas pls be sure to send them my way bc im going a Bit insane

[bucktheally]

i feel like the buck/tommy tag on ao3 is gonna be so close to reaching 2k fics by the new episode lmao can everyone just start posting all their drabbles and stuff from tumblr on there too bc it would be incredibly satisfying to me personally

[royboyfanpage]

I know I say this all the time but goddamnit there should have been more issues about Roy and Connor when Ollie was dead. The Arsenal mini isn’t enough I need a 20+ issue Green Arrow/Arsenal run.

[shitouttabuck]

wip wednesday

tagged by @rewritetheending @onward--upward and @alyxmastershipper 💓💓💓

i haven’t reeeeally started writing anything other than planning this out broadly because it’s very plot heavy but got a little lost thinkin about the intimacy of shaving the other day so this is from x files au in some shitty shared motel room while they’re cryptid hunting or chasing aliens idk we’ll figure it out

When he emerges, hair towelled dry and in clean clothes, Eddie frowns at him. “What?” he asks. “Promise I didn’t finish all the hot water.” “No, you just look—” Eddie gestures at Buck’s face, “—scruffier than usual.” “Oh,” Buck says, running a hand over his day-four stubble. “I forgot my razor.” “Oh,” Eddie’s face clears, “just use mine.” Buck swallows. “Um. Okay. Thanks.” Eddie nods at him and goes back to squinting at his phone, so Buck about-faces and re-enters the bathroom. It’s not a big deal, he tells himself as he foams up his face. It’s like—like sharing a hairbrush. Intimate, sure, not something you’d tend to do with people you don’t know well, but it’s not a big deal.  He wets the razor and brings it to his throat, heart hammering there so violently it feels like his Adam’s apple is trying to get out. If his hand doesn’t stop trembling he’s going to nick himself, and God, he is being absolutely fucking ridiculous. Deep breath. The razor glides over the thin skin of his throat, muscle memory even as he stares at himself in the mirror. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this every morning, using this very razor. Blade edge kissing his jaw the same way it kisses Eddie’s. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this for him, hand holding his chin as he shaves Buck carefully, grip firm when he turns Buck’s face this way and that. Doesn’t think about Eddie kissing where the blade kissed him first.  Doesn’t think about any of that when he rinses the razor clean and slots it back into the travel mug, where Buck’s toothbrush rests against Eddie’s with such easy familiarity it’s about to spark a whole new crisis. 

tagging @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @housewifebuck @anxieteandbiscuits @forthewolves @zahlibeth @athenagranted @buckactuallys @transboybuckley @icecreampotluck @diazblunt if you have anything to share today or later!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

days where i have nothing to do: ohhhh im so sleepy im so so tired no one is more eepy than me

nights where i have to wake up at a set time: I Have Never Been More Awake In My Life