#this is not the end yet tho

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Big Part 9!)

So, this is it - the main idea I had in mind when starting this story. You might've noticed it has taken me eight parts to get there, but yeah... There's just so much to explore. This is a really long part and I really poured my heart into this one and finished it in the middle of the night. So I really really hope you will love it (trying hard not to be desperate here, tbh). It's really quite a lot of romance for this part - Astarion deserves it and Tav too. There's seductive music casting a spell, Tav and Astarion dance, their hearts might feel closer than they've ever felt before - but they might be changed when they stop spinning around each other.

You can read this and the parts after it on AO3!

This was the song that inspired the idea: Satyros - Faun And the song that gave me the right mood for the end (only vibes, not the lyrics): Viva La Vida - Coldplay And just for the hell of it, take one of my all time favourite love songs: Muse - Neutron Star Collision

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Phew, here we go - hope you'll enjoy!

(Gif from here!)

After that you all turned into a giggling mess from there on out. All the liquor you’d drunk was really making you light-headed. Even Astarion seemed a bit out of it even though you weren’t even sure if vampires could get drunk. But frankly – you really didn’t care.

You’d taken to tell Astarion about some of your collective memories of your adventures as thieves – but only ones that made you scream laughing when you thought about them. Like the time Eodin (“this goddamn prick”, Daegin offered) had hidden in someone’s closet and had only gotten off the hook as a thief because he had pretended to be the lover of the lady of the house – who had been 80 years old, seemingly senile and almost blind. Or the time Daegin and Lira had posed as a noble couple at a party to get to their target although they were the most terrible actors Faerun had ever seen and the dwarf didn’t seem to be able to shake the terrible practiced accent after that for months!

Astarion laughed openly at all your silly stories, asked questions about details, enjoying himself so much making friends with Lira and Daegin that your heart felt like it might burst any second. After another story about how Miyena (“Bitch”, Lira whispered, getting praised by Astarion for her efforts) had almost burned all her hair and her eyebrows off in a failed attempt to use explosives to get into a vault, you were just done wiping tears from your eyes while trying to avoid dying from laughter again, Astarion asked: “Now, come on, my friends, there must be a story about Tav completely embarrassing herself. I truly can’t believe she would never get herself into trouble. At least from my short time of enjoying her company my experience is that you can’t leave her for half an hour before she’ll run off to save some puppy or getting herself thrown into the deep end – always ending up in dire need of saving.” You pinched his side to which he reacted with a dramatic yelp. “You’re one to talk. Like it wasn’t always you having your hands in someone’s pocket who looked at you funny, trying to steal from then and then getting caught”, you spat back at him and stuck your tongue out at him making fart noises. Astarion grabbed your nose and softly shook your face. “Not you trying to sneak up on someone and knocking over the tallest candelabra around!”, he countered, his silly act making you break into giggles again. You pinched one of his pointy ears so he’d let go of your nose.

“Alright, you silly geese, rear it in”, Daegin began, rolling his eyes at the two of you. “There actually is a story.” “Oh, colour me intrigued!”, Astarion exclaimed and turned his attention towards the dwarf.

You drew your brows together because you actually had no memory of what that story could be. Then the dwarf began telling the story while Lira was already giggling: “One time, we actually hadn’t gotten lucky enough to talk ourselves out of a hairy situation. We were actually captured by the city guard and thrown into a cell, awaiting trial the next day. And we were all really panicking because we were sure that – for once – we’d all run out of luck. But” – and here he threw you a secretive glance – “Tav had a genius plan to get us out of there.” The dwarf kept smirking at you and that was, when you remembered how that story went down. Oh shit – just to be prepared you grabbed the almost empty bottle of liquor and poured yourself another generous shot. Astarion leaned back as if to signify how taken aback and interested he was in how the story would continue.

“The one thing we were actually lucky about, was, that we were guarded by a greenhorn. And so, Tav ruffled her hair a little bit, opened up the front of her shirt a little and went to press herself against the bars of the prison cell and started cooing at this boy guard. Telling him that she was actually a nymph, only captured by accident and promising him that she would gift him the most unforgettable night of his life if he let her and us others free.” You buried your face in your hands but this bastard elf grabbed your hands and held them tightly while already starting to laugh. “Don’t you dare cover your face, darling, I need to see your face for this”, Astarion laughed and raised his eyebrow at you – and was that a glint of mischief in his eyes? You were basically burning up with shame in the meantime.

Daegin continued: “Well, the boy was hesitant at first saying how he couldn’t do that since he was only a cadet and stuff but Tav layed it on so thick, sweet-talking him, telling him in incredible detail what she would do to him if only he let us free.” You tried to bury your face in your hands again, now remembering the whole scene in incredible detail as well. But Astarion just shook his head and pulled you close to his chest while holding your hands in his iron grip and raising his eyebrows at Daegin in anticipation.

“So, he finally let us free”, the dwarf continued ignoring you struggling with Astarion so he would just let you sink in the ground “and he made big happy puppy eyes at her when she was standing in front of him – absolutely bewitched by her. And Tav”, now Daegin started struggling with holding it together “just stepped close to him and told him to close his eyes to which he happily obliged and then”, Daegin and Lira could barely stop chuckeling, you winced “she kicked him so hard in the balls you could hear him howl through half the city probably. And dare I say it probably was the end for this young man’s family plans.” Lira started howling with laughter, Daegin had to bury his face in his hands and you could feel Astarion’s chest shake with hearty laughter. And then you couldn’t help but join in, your body shaking with fits of laughter although you couldn’t quite tell if it weren’t sobs after all. You felt delirious from the alcohol, from actually being alive and being so lucky to make memories with your friends again and of course with him – this elven vampire that might just had gone as insane as your two other friends.

“Oh, my little siren”, Astarion laughed while finally letting go of your wrists “please, never do that to me!” He kept chuckling: “If you ever feel the need to kick me in the balls, please just do it fair and square.” He lost it once more, his head lolling back while laughing. You didn’t think you ever saw him this relaxed before – never had he opened that much before with anyone else but you.

You hugged him and pursed your lips while everyone’s laughter was slowly reclining. “Don’t worry, darling, I will”, you promised him sweetly but mischievously to which he put a finger under your chin to make you meet his gaze. His chest was still shaking with silent laughter. You thought he was about to say something, but he just shook his head, kissed your forehead, and then leaned his own forehead to it.

You kept hugging him while the other two of your band of thieves recalled even more stories. Breathing deeply you could feel yourself getting a little tired. Your vampire rubbed circles on your back, listening to your companion’s stories but sometimes throwing a caring glance at you to check if you were still alright. He could seriously be so thoughtful and sweet – you’d never would have thought when he’d first held a knife at your throat upon meeting you.

As you were just resting your eyes a bit while leaning onto Astarion you heard a soft, seductive melody drifting up from downstairs. Single notes plucked on a lute, a deep, pleasant voice humming to it. It should have been impossible to make this out over the crowd, all the chatter and laughter, over couples snickering in the dark corners of the tavern, glasses and goblets being clinked, between threats being made and dice being rolled. But you heard it. The melody enchanting you and reminding you of more memories that had been buried deep down in your mind.

You untangled yourself from Astarion and slowly walked through the crowd to the railing of the gallery, ignoring your soulmate's and friends' questioning looks. You looked down at the band of elves. The drow bard had his head thrown back, his eyes closed while plucking on his lute and humming. You could see the sheen of sweat on his face and body – he was shirtless now. He was softly swaying from side to side while continuing his tune, his brows drawing together seemingly concentrating hard on his task. The female bard had put down her violin for the moment, putting her hands on his bare body from behind, openly touching him everywhere, her eyes also closed. Were they simply two artists bound by the magic of the moment or eternal, unyielding lovers? Who knew? The rest of their band just seemed as enchanted: slowly, almost silently playing their instruments.

It was like a spell started to work its sly magic on the crowd – not imprisoning it nor silencing it but making everyone hearing this wistful melody sway with its highs and lows. You felt your heart react to the song. You knew it, you’d heard it once before and had never forgotten about it – and you knew exactly what was about to happen. Your hands gripped the wood of the railing hard, your heart beating with anticipation.

Astarion stared at your back while you watched the band. He thought the song started to sound familiar – wasn’t it… elven? His brows furrowed, there was something about the tune but it was evading his mind. His eyes flicked from the back of your head to your two friends. Daegin seemed oblivious to what was happening around him, not yet captured by the spell that was being woven around everyone else. But Lira was looking at the vampire, a knowing glint in her eyes. “If I’m right about what’s happening, you’ll be in for the surprise of your life, Astarion.” His brows furrowed even more deeply. Where did he remember this tune from? It seemed impossible to wrap his head around it. Could it be… he read and heard about it from legends? He turned back to where you were still standing at the rim of the gallery.

You knew exactly what was going on and what would happen. You had seen it happen once already in your life, in what had felt a lifetime ago and on an entirely different plane of existence. Your hands clawed at the railing still, while the tune started to rise more and more.

Finally, the drow opened his eyes again, breathing deeply. He threw a soft, longing glance at his partner who continued to hug her body to his and letting her hands wander over his form. “For this next song”, he then spoke, his somber and seductive voice carrying easily through the space as if it had been amplified by magic “I will need all your help for it is not only a song, but a ritual.” He enunciated every word with care, the crowd hanging on his lips for every word. “An old elven ritual and a trial to test the strength of your earthly bonds – as old as legends, maybe as old as the Gods themselves.” The song became more intoxicating by the second, making your hairs stand on end, as you felt it’s hypnotizing pull.

“To those of you here, tonight, brave enough to undertake the ritual, I say, come and be tried”, the bard spoke, his voice rising and his eyes wandering over the crowd. “And to the rest, I say, make way for those fearless enough to put what they think of as undying love on trial.” While he spoke the last words, the drow’s eyes landed on yours. On his lips was a knowing smile when he looked up at you and you felt a shiver running down your spine. You knew what you had to do. This might just be a show, the drow’s pathos only a party trick and the ambience merely a collective delirium but you could feel somehow that there was more at work. A kind of primal and untamable sort of magic had found its way into this hellhole of a city. And as it was being summoned it demanded to be paid its due.

You threw a glance back at Astarion who looked confused and unsure about what was happening, but your decision was made. And somehow you felt it hadn’t been your choice at all; rather that it had been made for you, long before anything else, by powers beyond your understanding.

The space in front of the stage cleared slowly as being pushed back by invisible hands. You were still looking at Astarion, then mouthed “trust me” at him before you darted for the stairs to make your way to the front of the stage.

Astarion was suddenly very much on edge, the whole situation feeling unbearably and torturingly similar to one not so long ago. Although he could feel that this time around it wasn’t the same deep, dark and threatening magic at work but something much more benevolent, he couldn’t stop the freezing feeling of dread clawing its way up his spine. He started to run after you, when he felt Lira’s hand grab hold of his wrist. Her eyes were shining with anticipation and warmth. “Don’t worry, Astarion. Tav will be fine and so will you – maybe even more so”, the half-elf said ominously and knowingly. Surprisingly your friend’s words and reaction did calm him although they didn’t soothe all of his fear. Lira motioned for Astarion to walk over to the railing and watch what might happen next. The vampire stood at the railing of the gallery impatiently awaiting what would transpire.

The crowd was just as tense with anticipation. You made your way to the round space now cleared in front of the stage. You stepped past the line of the crowd, steeling yourself with a deep breath and throwing another glance over your shoulder to see Astarion stand on the gallery watching you with deep worry in his eyes. Lira was beside him, a hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. On his other side even Daegin had made his way over to watch the spectacle, climbing onto the stool he had moved over. You smiled at your lover, then turned around. Your heart had never been so sure.

With you there had been three others stepping up to take this seemingly ancient test of love: three other women, two elves and one half-elf. Of course, this all had appealed to draw those with elven heritage out of the crowd. The magic in your blood connected the four of you for as far as you might be in any other moment in your lives. The same was true for the elven musicians. The four of you eyed each other, then you looked at the drow bard who had started humming again while waiting for you to come down to the open space. The wood elf bard had picked up her violin again and begun to play slow soft chords on it.

“So, four of you, delightful”, the drow bard spoke, already speeding up the tune on his lute. “Let us begin!”, he exclaimed and threw his head back. And then they began to really play.

The four of you stepped closer to each other. You had only seen and heard the happenings of all this once, but you knew exactly what to do. And so did the others. An ancient form of magic guiding you.

The four of you grabbed each other’s elbows to start and slowly began to dance in a circle – first to your right side, then to the other. You started singing in elvish, not even remotely sure what words it were that left your mouth. Then you let go of each other and started twirling each on your own while singing and clapping your hands.

Slowly, one by one the bards and the rest of the elven musicians took up your chant and so did the crowd. As you turned and turned you could see Astarion whenever he came into your view. His eyes widening with every second, not in fear it seemed but in wonder.

You closed your eyes for a second, while still singing and dancing, magic steadying your feet. Then the first of you four women disappeared into the crowd and returning with a tiefling man in her arms. They twirled together for a few rounds while you others kept dancing and chanting. The pace and volume of the song slowly picking up speed. Then the tiefling man was twirled from his lover’s arms to each of you in turn until he was in his original lover’s arms once more.

That was the point for you and the other two lone dancers to break off into the crowd in search of your own soulmates. You threw a quick glance up to the gallery. You felt all flushed from the hypnotic dance and song. You smirked at Astarion and curled your fingers at him in a “come hither” motion before you sped towards the staircase up to the gallery. Pushing past a very confused Kirin you met Astarion, who had also rushed towards you, halfway up the stairs. He grabbed your face with both his hands, anger, worry, wonder and fear all battling in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck is happening?”, he asked you desperately.

“Showing the whole world and the Gods that our love is unbreakable and that you’ll always belong to me and I to you”, you broke out breathlessly then grabbed his hands from your face and dragged him down the stairs, past a very confused Kirin – again. “Ye goddamn weirdo elves”, he shouted after you but you couldn’t care less right now.

You were the last to return with your partner to the circle of brave dancers. One other had grabbed another male elf and was already dancing and only mere moments before you the half-elf had dragged a human woman with her into the circle. As you entered the circular space you saw that Astarion could suddenly feel the pull as well of whatever it was exactly that was happening. His pupils widened, his mouth opened. You moved in close to him, grabbing his one hand and placing the other on his shoulder while he placed his other hand on the small part of your back pulling you even closer.

A slight moan left his lips when you started to move together. Not only had you never danced together – not that you even knew how to (although Astarion most certainly did) – but this suddenly felt incredibly intimate. The crowd had picked up the elvish chant even more enthusiastically than before. You heard them clapping and stomping which made everything even more ecstatic than before.

“Are you passing me on to the others as well or am I allowed to stay with you?”, Astarion asked breathlessly while twirling you, turning and turning. You let your head fall back for a moment while you laughed and shook your head no. “No, never! Now it is a competition, only one pair is actually chosen”, you explained quickly while taking quick gasps of fresh air in between. “Oh”, Astarion simply mouthed back at you.

You could feel sweat running down your face as you kept moving and turning around in circles at break-neck speed. Not sure how long it was physically possible to keep going without perishing on the spot you noticed how animated the vampire looked in your arms. All his fear was gone now, he had only eyes for you, making you almost forget that you were on display in front of a huge audience right now. If he had been able to flush and sweat you were sure he’d been just as agitated as you but even now it seemed a certain shimmer of liveliness had crept into the vampire’s face and body. Then you heard a scream coming from the crowd – it seemed one of the other couples had fallen. Shortly after you heard another shout of disappointment by the audience.

You concentrated only on Astarion now, on his piercing but soft red eyes, his loving smile, the way the wrinkles around his eyes creased when he laughed with you. How he held you steady against him to make sure you would never fall.

And he saw only you. How your face filled with warmth when you looked at him, how your eyes always openly showed your love for him, how your body felt against his, like you were made solely for him, to hold only you. How you were always the right thing he needed.

In this moment you were both completely sure of each other and each other’s love: that you would always walk by each other’s side and that no matter what might happen in this plane of existence, your souls would always find their way back to each other.

And as you were about to forget completely where you were, the world just rushing by in drifts of colours and snippets of sounds, you heard another scream coming from the crowd. The last other couple had not made it.

Realization only slowly dawned on the two of you. Astarion kept twirling you for a few more rounds but slowing down. When the vampire finally slowed you down completely, he suddenly dipped you impossibly deep down to give you the most pure kiss he’d ever given you, while the female bard dragged out one long and final note on her violin.

The spell was over, the crowd erupted, impossibly loud, stomping and cheering and clapping. People rushed to you to touch you and cheer you. You felt tears stream down your face and laughter bubble up your throat and you saw Astarion felt very much the same. Whatever had happened it had brought you together even closer. As Astarion lifted you up again, eyes blazing with love and passion, you let your eyes wander over the crowd. You saw that the wood elf had her arms around the drow again, standing behind him. And you were pretty sure now they were lovers by the knowing and appreciative smiles and nods they offered you. You saw Daegin and Lira cheer and clap up on the gallery.

Then you looked at Astarion again, tears still leaving wet trails down your face. He leaned in to kiss you again and you let him, wanting to be as close as possible to him.

The crowd broke into jubilant cries once more. But you didn't care, for you, there was only Astarion. And for him, there was only you.

[mari-cherri]

when u friend-zone ur girlfriend but like in a different way than before whos actually also friend-zoning you but in almost the same way as before and you’ve kissed but you also havent kissed yet but the all the times you kissed it was NOT currently in the relationship where you havent kissed yet and you spend all day being absolutely disguising about one another until nightfall when you proceed to sneak out and meet up again and insist on how just friends you are while you gush about your partner who you were making kissy eyes with all day (and not actually kissing)

big fan of the new love square dynamic we got in the second half of season 5, quite possibly be even stupider than before

[forgettable-au]

Does Flowey exist in this au?

Yes, he does.

Everything's pretty much the same when it comes to the regular story in this AU. It's just the past, especifically Papyrus' past (wich we don't know much about to begin with) that changes

Actually Flowey is one of the main characters in the story! (the main story of this au is divided between the past before the game and a post-pacifist timeline:D)

He and Papyrus will have a fun dynamic

-some thought I had in tags behind the keep reading

Srry for the spelling mistakes in here but I can't go and fix tags because I would end up erasing everything😭tumblr struggles

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He���s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 4 - Nuthin' but Boothill Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[peachypunchh]

hey guys i have my guesses about what this could be referring to but Please i need to know everyone's vibe checks on this. what tragedies do yall see in the future of the suckening?

[imogenkol]

Ok my first reaction was I didn’t like how the dragons disobeyed their riders like that, but after thinking about it I think it’s kinda brilliant when it comes to the behaviors of dragons.

First, both Arrax and Luke were really young and had absolutely zero combat experience. As soon as they saw Vhagar, it’s very obvious they simultaneously became a lot more tense. Then after Luke had his encounter with Aemond and left you can see Arrax looking in the direction of where Vhagar was in clear distress and Luke does the same thing before mounting. Luke realized their anxiety was high and he did his best to calm Arrax down before taking flight, but that all went out the window as soon as Vhagar gave chase. Now you have a child and a very young and small dragon that are bonded together in a very scary situation: being chased down by a behemoth in the middle of a raging storm (poor Arrax was flapping his wings as hard as he could) I personally think Arrax went on the offense to try and protect both himself and Luke, if only to give them a chance to escape. Both of them did the best they could.

Then you have Vhagar, an extremely old, massive, experienced dragon that is bonded to an inexperienced rider who is feeling a lot of unhinged rage and resentment. They were flying in attack maneuvers ffs I doubt she thought it was a game. And then this little dragon has the audacity to breathe fire in her face. Of course she’s not going to deal with that shit, as utterly tragic as her response is.

At the end of the day, dragons are not mindless war machines that will obey every command. They’re very powerful animals. No matter how trained or bonded with their owners they are, very powerful animals can and will do what they want.

[todayisafridaynight]

[pigidin]

OKAY. Am I the only one fascinated by how much Alastor in s1 has interacted with other demons and built a potential for considerable amount of different, broad and unique relationships? With All of them being non-romantic/sexual?

I really don't wanna dive into the discourse of shipping coz honestly, I do think that erasing Al's aroaceness is not cool at all. Personally, I don't see him wishing any romance/sex at all, and well. Considering how platonic he actually is throughout the season, it kinda seems like people forget that friendship (or basically anything non rom-sex) exists in the first place.

Coz, like, let's see what we got::

Vox -- probably one-sided (psychosexual) crush from Vox with possible past friendship between them, them hating on each other yet having (used to have) some respect as well. The ANGST, the drama (for both of sides). Insert aroace troubles (possible aphobia from Vox? Or not? He may be biggest ally as well!) and Vox's petty feelings that are insanely interesting to explore (and laugh at).

Lucifer -- immediate hate that (with a course of events) can turn into forced bonding. The potential of queerplatonic parenting of Charlie is HUGE here. Insecurities from Al? Forced care? Banters? SHENANIGANS? Luci patching up Al after battle, prolly discovering his deal and them slowly bonding on shared interests? Hey.

Rosie -- literal established queerplatonic partners, married for tax benefits, spending their evenings gossiping, hating on Susan and Al rolling his eyes on another romance-rel drama Rosie was trying to help sb with. Rosie can have insane influence on him whether it is understanding modern things or just being with him when he needs it. It also gives off mom/son to me.

Husk -- fucked up master-pet not-friendship with probable care rooted since they were closer in past. Is it toxic? Yes. Is it giving off some problematic dynamic? Sure. Yet it's fucking complex on its core considering pilot, bits and pieces of their interaction and how easily Husk used to insult Al until he overstepped. Them two are quite similar if you think about it and if Al got over his ego it could benefit him a lot.

Niffty -- daugther/father dynamic with them sharing one sadistic-psycho braincell and genuinely enjoying each other's quirks. Protective Al? I just need more Niff and them two being partners in the most outrageous crimes.

Mimzy -- friendship going since they were humans, with them having an amazing (potential) backstory of sharing evenings on two. Al enjoying her company as well as being protective and helpful to her with nothing in return.

Charlie -- manipulated into trusting you as a dad figure? Don't tell me there is nothing below Al's creepy plans or that he wouldn't grow to care for her. He already is proud of her and finds amusement in her inspiration-skills (also, performance is his thing for a reason)

Angel -- I was honestly kinda upset we didn't see any interactions between them except one sex joke, coz my past era of Hunicasts was a fuel to their duo. Them bonding over how different they are is the best description of their dynamic. Also banters and body-puns.

You can't just erase Alastor from interacting with people, but putting him inside boxes of allonormative relationships while he has such a fucking huge potential for everything beyond just that - is quite.. disappointing. People turning a blind eye to a wide variety of relationships he can have (potential to which is set in canon) for the sake of just romance/sex is low key sad.

It's AWESOME to see ppl actually understanding it and.. damn THANKS to everyone who explores Al's relationship with others without it involving final wish to stick tongues into places. Dynamics can be interesting and exciting without it.

I really don't wanna project my romance-aversion onto Al, but when romance and sex is one thing you see everywhere.. it's hard to just let it slip.

You are allowed to do whatever you want, exploring physical intimacy is fun as well, and having Al, well, there are bunch of ways to show it with respecting his orientation and the fact that IT AFFECTS RELATIONSHIPS/ATTRACTIONS but please just don't make it the center of your attention, the one thing relationship revolves around, coz sadly it's just exactly how it looks like from some folks.

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

I have another idea for a story, but I once again don't know what to write, so I'm building a skeleton.

It's a DC x DP x ML crossover. Damien, Marinette, and Danny are triplets born into the LoA. From birth, they were taught to not see each other as siblings but as rivals for Ra's attention. When they were five, they were dipped (more like dropped) into the pits for the first time. Danny never comes back out. The second time was when they were six. Damien and Marinette came back from a mission gravely injured. Marinette doesn't come back out. Damien becomes the sole heir.

As one can imagine, Danny and Marinette aren't dead but simply taken to where they were needed at the time. That being said, things for these two characters go mostly according to their respective shows after they integrate into society. With the exception that the two of them are more competent and don't fight like rabid raccoons. But things take a dark turn when they turn sixteen.

Marinette

. After finding out that his father is Hawkmoth, Adrien is unable to carry the weight of being the holder of the cat Miraculous, as he doesn't want to fight his father and gives it to Ladybug. He promptly moves to the States to further his modeling career. Marinette, unable to find someone else worthy to be the holder of the cat Miraculous, stores it away and becomes the sole hero of Paris (with occasional helpers). But because of this, her two lives get more intertwined, and she is forced into a corner where she has to choose between being Ladybuy or Marinette.

. But she doesn't get a chance as Hawkmoth is dethroned and replaced by an even greater threat. She is forced to take on the persona of LadyNoir. Her life crumbles as she tries her hardest to balance her life as a hero and a person. She tries to save everyone but someone always ends up getting hurt. Whether it be her as Marinette, clinging to what little of her life is left. Or her as LadyNoir, with no choice but to watch innocent civilians die because she couldn't think of a better plan that could've saved everyone.

. It gets to the point where she makes an unforgivable wish. But every wish has a cost. She only finds out the price when she is forced to stand behind an invisible wall and watch as her life replays before her eyes, the film slowly burning away till there's nothing left. She cries as she falls into an ocean of familiar Lazarus green.

Danny

. Danny's life is also crumbling around him as he struggles to separate his human life from his ghost half. But after becoming the Ghost King, things only became more complicated and even more dangerous as more ghosts started coming through the portal to challenge him for the crown. And while he would really love to give it away, the guys that kept fighting him for it are very clearly evil. So he has to keep fighting, winning, and solidifying his position as the King of the Infinite Realms. But with every win comes a newfound power. Power he doesn't want. Power that scares him.

. It gets to the point when Danny has to drop out of school. He wasn't even scoring double digits anymore so what was the sense of keeping him? But Danny couldn't stay home either, it was too dangerous as his ghost and human halves were slowly becoming one. And his parents' obsession was slowly becoming a threat to him. He thought he had the solution. He was going to shut down the portal and leave Amity Park.

. It was perfect really, as no ghost portal meant no ghost. And he couldn't be vivisected if neither the GIW nor his parents could catch him. He talked the plan over with team phantom and they reluctantly agreed. The ghost portal is destroyed, and Danny leaves Amity and files over Elmerton and a few other towns. But after flying for a while, Danny gets to a sort of border where nothing meets... NOTHING. On the other side was just an infinite void. Nothing.

. Danny slowly realizes that in this world, all he knew was Amity Park. He never actually traveled or went on field trips. Never went to visit extended family nor did any visit. No one 'new' ever came to Amity Park because they were all just nearby. He learned no relevant history besides Amity Park because there was nothing outside of Amity Park. When the realization had finally set in the world began to crumble into the void and it became a race against him and the void.

. Danny knew that he was fast but the void was faster, and before he knew it he was back in Amity. He was going to warn them and try to save as many people as he could. But saw something in their eyes. They already knew. Danny watched how teary eyes and big smiles, everyone and everything he loved crumbled into the void, fading into nothingness.

Scientists across the galaxy, the universe even, often theorize about how everything came to be. Well, it didn't start with a bang, that's for sure. 'Well then how did it start?' you might ask.

Well..., it started with some tears and a scream.

[underwaterwasteland]

I have completely normal feelings about this dead lady and the evil dead-er lady that killed her (lying)

[aruban-spaceshuttle]

I was originally kinda sad about not inviting and completely dismissing Cove while playing the Soirée moment again but DAMN was it worth it just to meet Baxter at the beginning of step 3 again and watch him go “…wait a goddamn minute 👉”

[utterabsurdity]

it was a loose interpretation of "angel"

[lvminisciel]

you were many, many things

both the goods and bads. the once and not. you were a lot of things, yet nothing at the same time. you were mine. you are gone. you knew the depths of me. you know nothing of me. you were all i needed. you are all i ask. in this fraction of kindness you sprinkled, i yearn. i wished to be yours once again. to lie in your arms. to embrace your warmest hugs. basking in your sunshine beneath the stars. tainted in your kiss beneath the scars. to hold you close so i won't lose you ever again. to write another chapter with you. you. you. it's always you and never once me. 

i'm sorry for loving you, my little dove 

[zytes]

odds n’ ends