#WE'RE ALREADY IN THE CRINGE DIMENSION. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-kr8tor · 6 months

Note

Can I request Hobie Brown to react to his friends telling him how his shy gn crush has been trying to confess to him for the whole week but keep getting interrupted by something like there's a mission that popped up when they're about to confess & they're losing hope for your fluffy Friday?

Thank you for the lovely request! ❤️ I may or may not have gotten overboard with it lol

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Synopsis: The three times you try to confess to Hobie and the one time he did.

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, spiderperson! Reader, shy! Reader, cw blood, cw injury, FLUFF.

It's Fluffy Friday!

A continuation of this fic, could also be read as a standalone

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Gwen gives you a thumbs up from far away, hiding herself behind a column, with her encouraging nod, you make your way towards Hobie. He sits alone in the cafeteria, arm on the back of the bench, his food tray almost empty, munching away at his lunch.

It's now or never, you thought, hands shaking and heart racing for the inevitable confession. You've been crushing on him since you've joined the society, Gwen noticed of course since she's close to the both of you.

How could she not with your lingering glances and shaky voice everytime Hobie grazes your vision. You've been told that your shyness increases tenfold when you're talking to him. You're much worse when you two get partnered up for a mission, always oh so distracted when he fights an anomaly. His arms flexing to reach for the guitar on his back, a determined look on his face. It's not like you can see it through his mask, but you still imagine it (delusional). Well it always gets to you making you fumble while swinging on your web, almost hitting the side of a building.

Hobie spots you from the crowd of spandex clad reds and blues, a grin spreading on his chiseled face. He waves you over, the simple movement makes your stomach somersault. Oh you're so dead, buried six feet underground, rigor mortis spreading through your fingers.

"Hi?" You cringe internally at your greeting that sounded like a question.

"Where's your food?" he gestures towards the lack of food tray in your hand. "Don't tell me Rex is still up your ass about last time"

You laugh nervously. "No, we're good actually" hands tucked behind you, fiddling with your fingers. "And I already ate"

"Good," he finds your shyness endearing, eyes shining, a lopsided smile on his lips. "D'you want to sit down?"

"Okay" you softly say, too shy to sit down next to him so you sit across, the table providing a barrier between you.

An awkward silence falls, Hobie clears his throat in an effort to pop the bubble of awkwardness away.

"How's your dimension?" He makes small talk, trying to get you to talk again. Hobie likes hearing your voice, especially when you ramble on about your home or the shows you're currently watching.

"Good, beat the crap out of Morbius yesterday"

Hobie whistles, "Hope he didn't bite a chunk out of you, love"

You laugh, music to Hobie's ears. "nope–" suddenly remembering why you're here, you clam up, hands getting clammy. You find courage deep within you. "Hobie I need to tell–"

"Hey! Hobie! Ohh and Y/n!" Pavitr cheerfully greets you two, unintentionally interrupting your confession.

"Hi, Pav" waving shyly. "Hi, Miles" you notice him walking behind the energetic Pavitr.

"Hey, guys! We're not interrupting you or anything, right?" Miles asks, gaze moving from you to Hobie.

From far away Gwen facepalms, internally imagining wringing her friends' necks.

Hobie greets the two, clueless of your almost confession. "Sit down with us"

"Thanks!" Pav exclaims, he sits next to you while Miles sits on your other side. Trapping you.

Hobie tamps down his smile at your predicament, hiding it behind his drink.

—

Sweat slides under your mask, you cringe at how moist the cloth is but you continue on, flipping and swinging effortlessly in the training area. You dodge an incoming attack from Doc Ock's hologram, breathless, you web him up, pulling him down to the hard floor. He dissolves into a pile of pixels, making an eight bit video game dying sound.

Chuckling, you take off your sweaty mask, fresh air cooling you down. You jump when you hear clapping behind you, clutching your chest, you curse at your lack of spider senses. You couldn't believe your eyes that someone could be here this early. You would always train at this hour to avoid people watching you.

Hobie leans on the doorway with a proud smile. Clapping his hands like an audience who just watched the most amazing play ever.

"You're getting better" he saunters towards you, the act making you cover your sweaty and for sure messy face with your equally sweaty mask.

You place it over your face so quickly that the eyes don't match over yours, it looks wonky. Hobie smiles, eyes soft.

"Thanks" you fumble with the single word, voice muffled by the cloth.

He chuckles, hands hovering over your masked face. "Can I?" Asking for your permission to fix it for you.

Through your vision, you could only see half of his face, missing how he gazes at you fondly. You could only nod at his request.

Warm hands straighten up the mask for you, carefully pinching the cloth, avoiding your skin underneath. You couldn't breathe the entire time his hands were on you, completely frozen, heart practically bouncing all over your rib cage.

"There" with your mask fixed, Hobie gives your cheek a loving tap.

"Thank you" you gather your courage. "Hobie, I–"

Sirens wail around you, red lights flickering around the large room. Miguel's booming voice echoes out, calling for Hobie's team for an 'important mission' according to him.

He sighs at the interruption, "see you when I get back?"

"Mm-hmm, okay" he resists the urge to hug you goodbye.

—

That's it, you thought, frustrated at your failed attempts at confessing. You've tried, even fighting against your shyness. Stomping over to Hobie's dorm, you find his door tightly closed. Adrenaline still rushing through you from your recent mission, you clamp down your bout of shyness with a knuckled grip.

Before you could lose your courage, you raise your hand to knock. Metal suddenly slams to your face with a harsh thonk. Ears ringing, your hands fly over to your bleeding nose. White hot pain makes you fall to your knees.

"Fuck!" Hobie hears the crunch, eyes widening, he immediately moves to crouch next to you, guilt wracking his body, his hands instinctively trying to stop the bleeding. The added pressure makes you hiss, yelping, pushing away from him.

"Shit! I'm sorry! Fuck!" He watches as blood gushes out of your nose. Unable to stop the crimson falling on the pristine floors. He doesn't think his spidey senses could've warned him before the door could hit you, Hobie curses himself.

"Owww" You're dizzy, the hallway spinning, there's two (very worried) Hobies in front of you, his voice sounds like he's underwater, unable to hear him through it. Black dots dance in your vision before you fall unconscious.

—

With glazed over eyes, aching pain over the middle of your face, you squint through it, watching two figures talk in the doorway. Eyes adjusting the two blobs turn into your friends. Hobie chuckles at what Gwen said to him. He hides his face with his palm while Gwen rolls her eyes.

Still unable to hear them, you translate Gwen's actions to chastising Hobie. It's either that or she's completely exasperated, you think you heard the word Idiot uttered by Gwen.

You keep watch with half lidded eyes and a dry throat as Hobie nods with what you could make out as a cheerful smile. Your eyebrows knit at his blissful smile, why in the world is he grinning while you're laying in the clinic, pumped full of pain meds?

You probably groaned judging from the rumble in your throat, Hobie snaps his neck to look at you, smile turning into a frown when his eyes stare at the bloodied bandages around your nose. Gwen sighs in relief, pushing past Hobie to get to your cot.

"Hi, are you feeling okay?" Her voice gets clearer with every word yet it stays slightly muffled.

"Hmm" you could only hum because of your dry throat and the dull pain.

"You look a bit better?"

"Hmm" you hum angrily.

Gwen winces, "I'll get you some water, yeah?" You nod, eyes slowly blinking. "Hobie here will take care of you, away from any doors" she glares at the man beside her. Gwen leaves, leaving you all alone with him.

You tilt your head questioningly at Hobie.

He moves your blanket away from the edge so he could sit down next to you. You watch his precise movements.

"I hit you with my door"

"Mm-hmm" you hum that sounded like a 'duh'

"I'm sorry" he cringes seeing your bandaged nose again, hating that he hurt you. "Spider-Doctor said I broke your nose. I really am sorry" Guilt flashes on his face especially after what Gwen told him, confirming his thoughts.

Without missing a beat, you reach for his hand. Hobie looks at your intertwined hands with a faint smile, he squeezes it lightly.

Despite your scratchy throat, you open your mouth to talk. "Why were you smiling?" You're genuinely curious at what Gwen told him, is it a funny joke to help make him feel better? Maybe you can ask him to reiterate it, might make you feel better too.

Hobie chuckles, avoiding your face. Squinting, you can't believe your eyes, the Hobie Brown seems to be shy right in front of you.

Realization hits you, eyes widening, skin tugging when you talk, you ignore the pain. "Fuck"

"She told me why you were there" he backtracks "not like it's your fault why you got hit. It's completely mine"

You nod, heart monitor beeping loudly at your side.

Hobie laughs loudly at the sound, you join in after a second. Wincing when you laugh too hard.

Hobie leans towards you, taking your hand away from your nose, preventing you from worsening the injury. "You know what I think about it?" He softly says, face so close to yours, you could see your face in his eyes.

You shake your head, skin hot. You worry about his answer.

"I opened the door that hard because I realized what you were trying to tell me all this time even before Gwen told me"

Your heart leaps in your chest. Hobie holds your wrist tenderly.

"I slammed it open because I wanted you to tell me without interruption"

You exhale a breath you've been holding. "I like you"

Hobie beams down at you, chuckling softly. "I fancy you too and not because I broke your nose"

You roll his eyes at the joke, a giddy smile on your lips.

"What can I do to make you forgive me?" Hobie cups his hand around the shell of your ear gently.

You lean into his touch. "I can think of one" courage takes over, he knows exactly what you mean.

"Think you can handle it with your nose?"

"Nose is already healing" you lean up, Hobie helps you up with his hand under your nape. Gaze falling to your lips. "Thanks to spidey powers"

"Thank you enhanced healing" he says against your lips a second before he meets yours.

Guess getting your nose broken was well worth it.

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Text

086: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Series

Chapter 003: We're the Freaks

Summary: You muster up some courage and devise a plan to help Eddie remember the good parts of his life, while the effects of his alternate dimension adventure begin to sink in.

Warnings: dark themes, mostly canon-compliant (Eddie lives), violence, blood, restraint, amnesia, abduction, mention of shock therapy, drug use, the beginnings of mutual pining hehehe

WC: 4.4k

Divider credit to @saradika

October 31, 1984

Eddie sees you before you can even greet him, lips turning upwards in a shy smile. It’s as though he was hoping you’d be at the party, desperate for the opportunity to talk with you. He stops counting the dollar bills clenched in his left hand and casts his eyes down for a second before looking back at you.

“Hey, uh, hi. What can I do ya for?” He bites the inside of his cheek in a silent berating. You can practically hear his brain chastising him for such an awkward opening: ‘What can I do ya for?’ Christ, am I Eddie Munson or Andy Griffith?

You hold out the twenty dollars from Carol. “Can I buy some weed?” If Worst Conversational Skills was an Olympic sport, the two of you could easily win the gold medal. Maybe they’d even create a platinum one for your extraordinary contributions.

Eddie either doesn’t notice the way you cringe at your own question, or he doesn’t care. He only nods, rifling through his tin box. “You want just the flower or pre-rolled?” When he’s met with no answer, he brings his focus to you again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” No. Carol didn’t specify what she wanted; last time, he’d only had flower. Was she happy with that? Did she say anything about wishing it was already neatly rolled into a blunt for her to smoke? Your thumbnail tucks itself between your teeth, a nervous habit. You can practically picture her disdain at your potential mistake. And Heather won’t be able to hide her disappointment; not at your wrong decision, but the way you’re squandering your chance at popularity.

“You sure?” Eddie props one elbow on the counter and gazes directly into your eyes, concern woven into his kind smile. “So you know, it’s not like cutting the wrong wire. Nothing explodes if you choose one over the other.”

Except whatever semblance of a social life you have left. “Totally fine. I’ll go with flower. Thanks.” You show him the crumpled bill again but he waves it off.

“It’s on me.” He pulls out a baggie and gives it to you, the scent of marijuana pungent even through the plastic. “This is some good shit, too. Kinda makes me mad it’ll be wasted on Carol and Tommy.” He laughs when you freeze, caught in the act. “C’mon, you think I didn’t realize that you only bought from me when you started hanging out with them?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans in slightly, pleased with his discovery. “Do you even smoke?”

You shake your head shamefully, not daring to make eye contact.

“Do you want to?” This grabs your attention. “With me, not them,” he clarifies.

“I shouldn’t…my parents would kill me if I come home high,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Listen, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything,” he says, latching the locks on the tin box. “Just figured we could hang out or something; y’know, maybe try and figure out how Carol manages to lodge such a huge stick up her ass.”

As if on cue, the person in question shouts your name from across the room, tone thick with impatience. Your middle finger itches to flip her off, but your cowardice wins—as usual. “I gotta get this to her,” you mumble, shoving the money back in your bag. “Thanks again.”

You begin to walk away, but his fingertips gently graze your wrist. An electric current flows between you, a spark that could burn bright if only you’d fan the flame. “Look, I’m not sure why someone as nice as you is hanging out with people like them, but if you ever need a friend—a real friend—just say the word.” The smile he offers this time is not one of amusement, but of empathy. I know what it’s like to mold myself into what people want me to be. “You like to read, right?”

His seemingly random question draws your brows skyward. “Yeah…?”

“Use that,” he juts his chin in the direction of your bag, where you’re storing Carol’s money, “to buy yourself a new book. A hardcover; none of that paperback bullshit.” He punctuates the statement with a wink. The gestures have your stomach in knots; all you want is to take his hand and talk with him for hours, leaving behind the pressures of status quo adherence, but you can’t.

“Um, hello?” Carol’s screeching voice snaps you back into reality, and you shuffle over to her without formally saying good-bye to Eddie.

You have eight months left until you graduate and can get as far away from Hawkins as you possibly can. But until that day arrives, you’re stuck playing the game.

March 31, 1986

“Eighty-six.”

The voice is a whisper, an angel beckoning him towards heaven.

“Eighty-six!” the voice hisses, urgently this time, much more Lucifer than Gabriel.

Eddie jerks awake, wincing when the handcuff clangs against the gurney’s metal bar and digs into his wrist. He’s become accustomed to it while he’s awake, but it still catches him off-guard as he rejoins the land of the living. “Jesus H. Christ, what?” he grumbles, expecting the sinister stare of a white-coated man.

Instead, he sees you in the doorway: fear seeping from every pore, but not an ounce of malice in your eyes.

“Oh, hi,” he says sleepily, ease flooding his bones when he realizes he isn’t being subjected to more unpleasant memories or poking and prodding–yet. He uses his free hand to scratch at the stubble forming along his jawline. “055, right?”

You nod, lip firmly tucked between your teeth. His grogginess means that he’s moving at a pace far too slow for your liking, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. “Yeah, mhm; that’s me.” You check over your shoulder to ensure no one’s coming, then duck into his room. “The doctors are busy with another patient,” you start, omitting that their busy-ness involves electroconvulsive therapy for “non-compliance,” “so we have a few minutes for me to pull a memory, if you want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, softly but enthusiastically. A smile tugs at his lips. “Can you do another one with Dustin? But, like, a less, um, terrible one?” He can still taste his own blood in his mouth when he thinks about it.

“I’ll do my best,” you promise, standing in front of him. He looks naked without his signature wild mane; there’s no longer anything for him to hide behind. How many times had you seen him in class, carelessly running his hands through his hair, his rings getting snagged on a rogue curl? All of it–the jewelry included–is now gone. You can’t even reassure him that it’ll grow back, because the doctors will ensure that it’s kept closely shaved.

He assumes the same position as he did the previous day, but with one major difference: he extends his hand, an unmistakable attempt to hold yours.

“Oh, um,” you stammer, simply staring at it. “We don’t…you don’t need to do that for this to work,” you supply.

Eddie withdraws, not only his hand, but his body caves in from the rejection. He gives a quick nod, shoulders gently hunched so he takes up less space.

Immediately, your heart lurches. “I mean, we can if you…if it’ll help you feel better.” If you want to is too loaded a statement to make. “I just wanted you to know that it isn’t, like, required.”

“I know.”

With those two words, you reach out and take his palm in yours, sweat-slicked despite the lab’s perpetual chill. The rough calluses on his fingertips scratch against your skin as his lifelines merge with your own.You remember comparing with Heather back in fourth grade, sitting on a bench during recess while the other kids played dodgeball or fought over the playground's sole tire swing. She swore that she could read some hidden meaning behind them. You’d always thought it was mumbo-jumbo, that there was no way she could obtain that information from etches in your hand or the direction of your fingerprint swirls.

When she’d read her own palm, how long did she say she would live? Was it eighteen years, the age she was on that fateful night?

“You okay?” Eddie’s head is cocked slightly as though examining the gears turning within your skull. “I dunno if this hurts you or anything, but we don’t have to do this,” he says. “I’ll get my memories back another way.”

You shake your head, well-aware that there aren't any other feasible options, especially for happy memories. The scientists only want to see who was with him in the Nether, and from what you’ve gleaned, no part of that experience was pleasant.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, embarrassed that he has to comfort you. “It doesn’t hurt me. You’re the one who’ll end up with a headache,” you point out.

“Fair enough.”

You swallow your nerves, heart beating in your ears. If the doctors find you in here unsupervised and without permission…your mind won’t allow you to consider the consequences. Perhaps you’ll be next in line for Ol’ Shocky. “I need you to think about your friend Dustin. Picture him and bring the image to the forefront of your mind. Try not to let your thoughts wander.”

Eddie nods, mouthing Dustin’s name over and over as you delve deep into his brain, using his sole memory—and your memory of that memory—as guidance.

After what seems like eons, you latch onto one and tug it to the surface triumphantly. You can feel blood trickling down your nose and over your lips, but you do your best to focus on the task at hand.

Hawkins High’s cafeteria is buzzing with excited conversation, the phrases “I missed you!” and “how was your summer?” and “did you hear about what happened at Starcourt?” seem to be constants. A banner hung up in the entryway reads ‘WELCOME BACK, TIGERS!’, complete with an illustration that some poor art club sap was probably volunteered to paint.

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on the tile floor, avoiding anyone and anything. He just needs to get to his table, eat lunch, and repeat every day until—

The sound of a lunch tray clattering to the ground, followed by a cacophony of malicious chuckles, grabs his attention. He watches as a group of seniors gather around a table, laughing hysterically.

“C’mon, seriously?” A kid—Dustin, you both determine from the earlier memory pull—whines at the ruined pizza slice below him.

“What’s that?” One of them sneers. “I don’t speak Mushmouth.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and flips off the older kid. “You’re lucky Steve graduated already, or he’d kick your ass!” he shouts.

The second boy hides his face as though hoping he won’t be their next victim, but his vulnerability makes him a prime target. Down, down, down falls his lunch, followed by one belonging to a scrawny kid who looks like a poster boy for The Gap.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to ignore the situation, but his conscience steers him towards the kids. “Show’s over,” he grumbles, using the strength acquired from lugging amps to break it up. He grabs one of the bullies by the collar—a jock, Andy something-or-other, according to his letterman jacket—and snarls, “get the fuck outta here before I tip off your coach to check your piss.”

Andy just nods, attempting to play it cool, but Eddie can feel him trembling under his grip. He puffs up his chest and walks away, taking his posse with him.

“Thanks,” Scrawny Kid mumbles, haphazardly brushing chocolate milk residue off his clothes. He refuses to make eye contact, thoroughly humiliated on his first day of high school.

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie says casually. “Just, uh, it might help your case if you don’t dress like some prep school wannabe.” He grins, and to his delight, the boys smile with him.

Scrawny Kid shakes his shaggy hair from his eyes. “I’m Mike, and this is Lucas,” he points to the kid who’d tried to make himself invisible, “and Dustin.” The kid branded ‘Mushmouth’ gives a small wave.

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Weird Al, huh?” he laughs, unable to hide his amusement at Dustin’s choice of t-shirt. “Christ, you three are clueless.” He cocks an inquiring eyebrow. There’s one place he can take them under his wing and keep them safe from the moldy jockstraps known as the Hawkins High basketball team.

“You little freaks ever play Dungeons and Dragons?”

The sound of approaching footsteps down the hall pulls you from his psyche, and you blink a few times to clear your vision. “Shit, I’m sorry.” You swipe at the blood under your nose, leaving a crimson stain in its wake. “I gotta go, but we can meet up again tomorrow.” You start towards the door, but his uncuffed hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, drawing you back.

“Wait…before you go.” Fear radiates from his deep brown irises. “I know you’ll have to pull more memories–bad ones–for them.” He swallows thickly, trying to stave off tears. “But if they ask you to do it while I’m sleeping, can you wake me up first?” he asks weakly.

Realization crashes over you; his first returned memory was his near death, watching his friend witness the life draining from his limp body.

“Yes.” The word is firm, confident, though you’re making a promise you’re unsure you can keep.

Eddie manages a small smile, but it emanates gratitude, and you return it. You want to stay, to search for every happy moment in his life and allow him to bask in their joy, even if just for a moment. But both of you risk serious punishment if you’re caught, and so you make your escape as inconspicuous as possible.

Eddie lays back, staring at the fluorescent lights until his eyes start to water. Thoughts swirl through his mind, a roller coaster off of its track. In addition to Dustin, there’s Mike and Lucas. And Dustin had mentioned someone named Steve, which rang the faintest of bells.

It’s a common name, he thinks. Could be anyone. Yet something deep inside nags at him, an instinct that he can’t shake.

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve.

He twists the bed sheet below him until the thin fabric tears with an audible riiiiiip. His life has been reduced to two meager moments: saving three nerds from a jockstrap with an inflated ego, and losing in a battle against some bat-like creatures. Nothing before that, and nothing between.

The after is right now, imprisoned in this room with no evidence of a crime, let alone anything pinning him as a suspect.

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve.

He wills himself to remember any other details. What was it that he said at the memory’s conclusion? Something about Dungeons and Dragons?

“C’mon,” Eddie mutters, eyelids shut tight in concentration. Maybe it would be better to keep them open, like he does when you’re pulling a memory. Since there’s nowhere else to look, he stares down the broken clock, all three hands frozen in place.

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve.

Dustin Lucas Mike—

The hour hand ticks forward.

Eddie shoots up, yanking the cuff along with his body. No, he must be hallucinating. When was the last time he ate something? Or perhaps the ancient batteries had a little kick left in them.

Something implores him to try it again.

His eyes lock onto the clock, channeling all of his anger and confusion to move the hand another centimeter.

There’s a gentle splintering noise, so quiet that he’d be unable to hear it if another person in the room was breathing. It gets louder until the glass frame covering the clock face shatters completely, shards clattering to the floor like rain.

No battery glitch could explain that. And it couldn’t explain his nosebleed, identical to yours when you utilized your powers.

He can’t even clean his face before dizziness overtakes him, and it all goes black.

November 9, 1984

It’s been just over a week since Tina’s Halloween party. The talk of the high school is still Steve and Nancy’s bathroom argument—and subsequent breakup—though new developments about two teachers getting frisky in the staff lounge has taken some of the attention away from them.

“Hey,” Carol says, leaning against the locker next to yours and obnoxiously popping her bubble gum, “that shit you got from The Freak was pretty good.” She raises her eyebrows in amusement and challenge. “If you can score some more, you and Heather should smoke with us.”

Translation: you’ll get more weed, and if you don’t, I’ll tell Heather that you ruined it for everyone. You can picture the look of disappointment on her face, slumped shoulders and dejected frown screaming, you let me down.

“Yeah, I’ll see if he still has any,” you mumble, grabbing your history textbook and slamming the door. You spin the lock’s dial and give it a tug to ensure it’s closed, giving Carol the chance to leave.

She doesn’t.

“Y’know, maybe it’s because Heather’s been vouching for you,” she starts, blowing another watermelon-scented bubble, “but you’re not as much of a drag as I thought you were.” It’s her version of a compliment, and you hesitantly accept it with a nod. “Anyway, eight o’clock. My place.” She flounces off, probably to find and cling to Tommy, leaving you with a churning gut.

The closest you’ve ever been to smoking weed was getting a contact high at the party. Carol and Tommy hadn’t offered to share, and you didn’t certainly volunteer yourself. If you try and end up coughing like a tuberculosis patient, you’ll never live it down. If you decline to smoke with them, you’ll all but solidify your role as the loser, straight-laced outsider and catapult yourself from their inner circle. And if you don’t show up at all? Heather will never forgive you.

You keep your textbook clutched to your chest, making a beeline for class. Goody two-shoes can’t be late. No, she’ll get there early; maybe place a shiny red apple on the teacher’s desk, and sit patiently with her hands folded. Just like she always has; just like she always will.

You’re so intensely focused that you bump into someone, your head snapping up at the sudden collision. The textbook slips from your grip and hits the ground with a thud.

“What’s the big rush?”

Eddie.

You shake your head. “Nothing. Sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going—”

“No worries,” Eddie says with a small laugh, leaning over and picking up the book. He hands it to you and smiles. “See you around?”

Now’s your chance. “Actually, I was hoping we could meet up after school,” you force out the request, not realizing the implication until he cocks his brow. “To buy some more, um…” You look away, unable to finish the sentence in fear that the wrong person will overhear.

Eddie grins, eyes alight with anticipation. “Yeah, of course,” he replies. “After school, during lunch, even right now, if you want. Got it all in here.” He gives his tin box a proud slap.

“After school is fine,” you say hurriedly. There’s that one other favor you need; it hides behind your molars and sticks to your tongue. “Would…could you maybe…show me how?” Your cheeks are so hot that your face may as well be ablaze. “Carol asked me to join them, but I’ve never…and I don’t wanna look like a total moron…” Shut up, shut up, shut up.

His face briefly shifts expressions, something resembling disappointment, though you can’t pinpoint it before his usual shy smile returns. “Sure. Meet me by the picnic benches right after last period.”

“Thanks.” You give your book a squeeze, fingernails digging into the old newspaper you’d repurposed as a book cover. Eddie gives a quick nod before disappearing into the hallway, packed with students. The whole encounter has your head spinning; you’re going to smoke pot in the woods with Eddie Munson. It’s almost distracting enough to make you late to class.

Almost. You’re not risking detention for this.

March 31, 1986

Eddie awakens to the pungent odor of vinegar and something sulphuric, rousing him back to consciousness. His eyes water even after Dr. Snell removes the bundle of smelling salts from under his nose.

“086,” the doctor says stoically, fishing a tiny key from his pocket. His unnerving stare never leaves Eddie as he unlocks the cuff and untangles the chain. “I see you’ve been busy.” He gestures towards the pile of broken glass on the floor, lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

“It was an accident,” Eddie mumbles, flexing his wrist and feeling the blood begin to circulate again.

Dr. Snell chuckles, sending a shiver shooting down Eddie’s spine. “Was it?” He leans over; Eddie hates his confidence that he won’t be attacked. All he wants is to wring the man’s neck like a washcloth, but he recalls your advice to earn their trust. He’ll have to remain calm if he ever wants to learn more about Dustin, Mike, Lucas, or Steve; if he ever wants to learn more about himself.

Eddie nods pathetically. Technically, he’d only been trying to make the hand move again, to see if it was just a fluke, but he’d ended up with a shattered clock instead. “I don’t understand how…”

“Dr. Moseley would like to conduct some tests.” Dr. Snell selects his words carefully. “See what other new skills you’ve acquired during your little adventure.”

“No…” Eddie starts, catching himself before he can protest further. He swallows, throat sore with aridness. “I mean, I don’t think I have any other, um, skills.”

The doctor sneers. “That’s for us to determine, isn’t it?” He tugs on Eddie’s arm, hoisting him from the cot and guiding him down a long, dimly-lit hallway. His torso aches with each step, but when he tries to stop and breathe, Dr. Snell continues pulling him along.

“G-Gimme a sec,” Eddie finally pleads aloud, and the doctor relents with an irritated huff. It’s not from sympathy–Eddie doubts there’s a selfless bone in the man’s ugly body–but likely because he wants to avoid a ripped stitch or another fainting spell. Whatever the reason, he’s grateful for the small break.

The room he’s brought to is white on white; there’s not a stitch of color. He’s seated at a table while doctors attach adhesive-backed electrodes to his temples and forehead, cold and slimy on his skin.

Salt-and-Pepper—Dr. Moseley, he surmises—approaches him with a thin-lipped smile. “Good afternoon, 086.” But there’s nothing good about it, and Eddie can’t even be sure it’s truly the afternoon. “I heard you had a bit of an incident today, yes?”

The doctor already knows the answer, so Eddie doesn’t bother to lie. “Yes. I, um, made the clock hand move and then broke the glass. With my mind,” he adds, as though there was any confusion about the means in which it occurred.

“Excellent.” Dr. Moseley shoos the others out of the room, so he and Eddie are alone. As soon as the door closes, he sits in a chair across from his patient, tapping a pen on a clipboard.

“I’m going to ask you to complete a series of tasks,” he tells him, somehow already marking notes. “Some tasks will be to assess your existing abilities; others will be to strengthen them.” He motions towards a large monitor. “This will detect any changes in brain wave activity with remarkable accuracy.”

In other words, don’t phone it in. You will be caught.

Dr. Moseley grabs a rubber ball off of a shelf, rolling it in between his palms before placing it in front of Eddie. “We’ll start off slow; see where you are.” He clears his throat. “Move this ball–using only your mind–as far as you can manage.”

Eddie nods, clearing every thought except for move. Move move move. He chants it silently, his lips parting but no sound coming out. Maybe if he does this, they’ll be less stringent about memory accession. Maybe you’ll get him to a point where he can begin to connect the dots and remember on his own. Maybe—

“Focus, 086.”

He makes a strangled noise in response. Move move move. Move for Dustin, for Lucas, for—

The ball rolls slightly—not even a full inch—but it’s noticeable enough to draw approval from the doctor.

“Well done, 086. And on your first try.” God, Eddie would love to smack the smirk clean off of his face. “Let’s continue with our assessment, shall we?”

There’s a memorization task next; apparently, his short-term recall is above average, Dr. Moseley reports. After this, the doctor makes drawings on a notepad that Eddie must decipher without physically looking at them. It’s by far the most difficult of the activities. He harnesses all of his energy trying to determine what is being sketched, but he comes up blank each time.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, wiping the blood from his nose. “I can’t do it. I want to,” he adds, not wanting his inability to be misconstrued as disobedience, “but I can’t.”

To his utter shock, Dr. Moseley accepts this, likely because the monitor corroborates his admission. “Not yet. But with continued training, you will.” He detaches the electrodes from Eddie’s head snd motions for him to stand with one crooked finger, and Dr. Snell re-enters at the same time.

“Wait,” Eddie chokes out as the second doctor leads him away, “I noticed something.” He takes a breath, garnering the doctors’ attention. “I was able to break the clock and move the ball when I thought about Dustin—” he stops abruptly, not wanting to give away the secret session you’d had earlier. “I think if 055 finds more memories with them—him—I’ll be able to channel that emotion into doing more tasks.”

The room falls dead silent until Dr. Moseley speaks. “I’ll consider it,” he finally says.

Not a win but not a loss, Eddie thinks as he shuffles back down the hallway, feet sticking to the tile. But I’m not going down without a fight. No way.

tag list (still open):

@munsonmuses @vintagehellfire @chrissymjstan @munsonology @lady-munson @roadkill-writes @randomreader1999 @babez-a-licious @madelynraemunson @the-unforgivenn @nailbatanddungeon @lokis-army-77 @laurenlokirby @american-idiot-jpg @str4ngergirlw0rld @gnrquinn @katethetank @inourtownofhawkins @rorylover71 @kirisuteg0men @tlclick73 @aysheashea

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #086

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ckret2 · 4 months

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Hi. So, question. Are the genders of Bill's dimension like bees? I've been wondering, as lines are considered female (""drone equivalent""), whereas any other shape with more sides are male, but. you know. come in literal different shapes (ie. workers, guards, queens, etc.) Obviously this framework of comparing them to bees is more of a metaphor. Stark biological variance and how it interfaces with gender has GOT to do some interesting things to their concept of gender.

I want to avoid "even once you set aside reproductive roles, lines are so massively different from polygons that you can separate 'polygons' and 'lines' into two groups as if polygons share some inherent similarity that makes them more similar to each other than any of them are to lines," and I also want to avoid "each distinct shape has a special hardcoded biological function like some kind of fucked up 'natural' self-reinforcing class system."

So, no. I'd rather they not be like bees.

Truth be told, it would take a huge amount of effort to invent a bunch of fresh new unique genders connected to all the shapes' different sexes WITHOUT defaulting to some sort of cringy over-simplified "and here's the warrior sex with a bunch of warrior personality traits, and here's the scholar sex with a bunch of scholarly personality traits, and here's the politician sex and the merchant sex and the farmer sex and—" Like the social restrictions from human sexism are already bad enough, do we really need to upgrade "assigned gender at birth" to "assigned job at birth" like this is Brave New World or something? I'm not writing a dystopia here. And after all that effort, it would have absolutely negligible impact on the fic that I'm doing all this worldbuilding for.

So—unless I stumble upon a zero-effort idea I can explain in fic in under 40 words that DOESN'T make my agender ass cringe in "really, we're replicating THAT conception of gender?" distaste—I'm gonna continue going "each shape is a separate sex with a separate assigned gender, trust me bro" and y'all will just have to take my word for it. If you can't tell what exactly it is that makes Bill's gender different from Kryptos's gender it's because they're aliens and it's just too foreign for you to comprehend. Trust me bro.

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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souji-upseta · 3 months

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yo my name is nyx, it's my birthday today (2/3). my birthdays have sucked SHIT the past few years for reasons that are depressing—

—cringe is also dead, i killed her myself, and i'm still grieving her loss. its been very hard for me—

—since i am the protagonist of Me and can do st abt this, this year i turn 31, and i will at some point turn 31.4, with all of this in mind, what do i want for my birthday? i'll tell you:

to talk about homestuck.

i'll do that, anyways, but you'd be doing me a gift by giving me a prompt to follow, and to feel slightly more validated in my inability to shut up about my hyperfixation.

so i'm asking YOU to talk about homestuck with me.

talk to me abt homestuck? ask me my headcanons. my thoughts. my relationship to the work. tell me yours. expect nothing that's profound, and plenty that's stupid.

i'm even turning anon on, for the first time in 6 fucking years. where making this happen.

this never expires btw. today is my birthday, but, for story purposes, let's say that it's still my birthday after it isn't, bc i will still want and, if i am honest, NEED you to talk to me about homestuck for years onward. i'm very metatextual like that.

i get the feeling it's going to be a long day.

>Nyx: Be the other guy.

You are now the other guy! What will you do?

>Web Tumblr User: Inbox Tumblr user souji-upseta?

>Mobile App Tumblr User: Do that, but hyperlink is unavailable?

=(n×∞)>

FOURTH WALL BREAK!

you are now nyx again, and i am now me, and i need to exposit some lore.

as in, some starting points to get u going, since "homestuck" is a very broad subject:

•i'm a massive massive slut for the epilogues and post canon content/hsbc. pesterquest is too good for this gay earth.

•dirk is my fav, ALL of the dirks, all of them, and it isn't even close. my fav relationship is the canon platonic/familial one between dirk and dave. i fucking love the striders. dave is my 1.5th fav.

•im more invested in dave's relationship to corndogs (and corn dogs) than you even know.

•mspa reader is my second fav after the striders, bc they are a good thembo friendsimp and also bc they are me and they are You. i might be biased. i love You. i love me. i love us. we're fucking gr8.

•im pretty canon-compliant, so my fav ship is dirkjake as exes (for now), and my fav ship as not-exes is panquadrant (canon) davekat.

i'm also really fascinated by rosemary and would welcome more opportunities to learn abt and talk about them but if homestuck makes a statement about anything it's to let the women and the sapphic characters tell their story (thats a joke, talk to me abt them too)

•june eg(g)bert real.

•i'm fascinated by classpects and the applications of paradox space's classpecting and extended zodiac system when applied to real life, since our only experience of those fictional systems is in linear dimensions of spacetime, and our only experience of astrology is as a species that in-universe cannot experience the sign caste system the same way the fictional aliens that created our species in their own image do. skaia knows, but we sure as fuck don't.

•i'm a former prince of heart (2012-2020) and a current knight of space, and my aspect is light. that is a thing that actually makes perfect sense for the reasons i just said.

don't ask me about vriska serket or (vriska) serket. not bc i'm not willing to discuss dark or problematic characters (hello, lanque bombyx) but bc:

for one, she can speak for her damn self, and has, tyvm.

for two, talking at length about a problematic character in any positive capacity marks you as an enemy of the state if that character is a woman, and being an enemy of the state is way too much fucking pressure for me for reasons i already explained as soon as i told you i'm a knignt of space. i wouldnt make a very good enemy of the state. it'd be an unhealthy blackrom relationship to the detriment of us all.

for three, i can just give you all my opinions/headcanons on vriska that matter:

•JOHN HUGGING VRISKA IN HSBC YESSSSSSSSSS

•she's greasy and gross and unkept af but not unclean or unsanitary, like, she bathes, she smells fine, she changes her clothes, but she's got the troll crust punk aesthetic absolutely on LOCK. she doesn't comb her hair.

•it would have been funny if she did even more bad things

•aradia did nothing wrong. vriska did but the meme is funny even if someone needs to take that meme out back and shoot it for the good of humanity.

•she should beat up ultimate dirk, and my reasoning for that is bc that would, also, be really fucking funny if she did

•john has both punched her in the face and hugged her, and now that john has punched aranea in the face, all that's left is for june—i assume she will have come out of her egg(bert) by then—to hug aranea and complete the circle of stupidity.

•she is trans yeah but she doesn't wanna get into it, she doesn't have to, and neither do i.

•vrisrezi most important relationship in homestuck.

there. you already got me to talk about vriska at length, and you didn't have to try. moot issue.

#homestuck #dirk strider #dave strider #june egbert #vriska serket #dirkjake #davekat #strider bros #homestuck epilogues #homestuck post canon #homestuck meta #homestuck shitpost

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yuukei-yikes · 1 year

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please just rewrite kagepro i'm BEGGING i love your head cannons !!! love you jin but vinnie on top. also haruka is so AAAAAAA and it's so interesting how you talk ab his weird vibes w the dan !! it's like "whoops konoha's gone but have this silly guy instead" and said silly guy is extremely guilty about htis. sorry this is all over the place but yeah. the silly guy filter

i went a lil crazy on this reply. partly an analysis, partly str headcanons. in general about haruka and how he feels about his livelihood 💥💥💥

haruka's survival guilt misadventures💗💗💗

since he saw everything konoha saw it's like he became one-sided friends with everyone because he knew everyone konoha knew and of course cared for them just as much but none of them know him. he knows first hand how much everyone loved konoha because he saw it!!!

i think generally post str haruka&takane deal with a lot of existential crisis LMAO takane because she says it felt like the whole time she was ene could've been a dream and etcetc sorry i wont sidetrack to takane like i keep doing. erm. but her too okay... anyways haruka

He Should've Died Years Ago and didn't and like... in over the dimension he mentions how he used to believe in the prospect of heaven but then as time went on and his condition worsened and his time to go approached, he became more depressed and his thoughts became SUPER negative. he was like THERE IS NO HEAVEN EVERYONE IS JUST LYING TO MAKE U FEEL BETTER BUT AFTER DEATH THERE IS ONLY DARKNESS. and then he does die and neither of these things happen, he doesnt go to heaven and he doesnt stop existing. if we're staying on theme with the heaven thing he mentions, instead he essentially ends up going to hell. he literally gets stuck in Personified Hell watching the konoha cringe comp like. come on.

i hc everyone in the daze can sort of move freely and meet each other EXCEPT haruka precisely bc he still has a link to his body/the outside world. i think it's SO interesting that the daze is truly another dimension and swallows people as they are BUT HARUKA specifically it's his consciousness/spirit/whatever. we dont talk about this enough. the concept of spirits and shit being canon in kagepro. like HE IS THE ONLY ONE who is just a mind with no actual physical body?? so bc of the link to the outside he still has bc of it, he can't move freely inside the daze and can't do anything other than sit there and just Watch what konoha does, hibihiyo timeloop and all. so like. LITERALLY FUCKING HELL. he's alone not only for the 2 years but also for however long konoha was in hibihiyos loop. i think he can only move around in the eighth novel because he has finally lost the link to his body

and haruka speaks of how lonely his life is and by the way he speaks i think he had sort of repressed the way he felt about his illness. cuz he grew up lonely, not only already sick but seeing first hand the way his illness is killing/kills someone else, his mother. cuz before she died he had to see her suffer through it, right.. there is no mention of how she was as a person but i imagine she was either really depressed haruka ended up sick too OR... She was like his dad and talked about it a little insensibly. his father being really cold and straight to the point with "you will also die like her, give or take in 6 years" when he is TEN!!!HE WAS SO SMALL!!!! at the beginning of his novel haruka is like. yeah i have like a year left to live. but oh whatever. everyone dies I'll just hit the sack a little before ideal that's fine.

i could go on for longer abt haruka's parents and different hcs about the kind of people they are but teehee. i won't sidetrack.

haruka grows up conditioned to think that way and represses his feeling of sadness because that's what he was taught to do by his parents and it essentially became his coping mechanism. takane says it herself at one point abt how haruka has a "yeah whatever" attitude. like word for word

it's only by the next summer when that year actually goes by and he is DYING that he starts despairing and becoming super negative about it and ends up begging for his life because he doesnt wanna die.

that defense mechanism that has fallen apart since then because of his despair when dying sort of built itself back up when haruka enters the daze. once inside the daze doesn't haruka always seem so offbeat and exactly like "yeah whatever"?? because what else is he supposed to do lmao. there is nothing to hope for. there is nothing here. there is no one or nothing to smile at or for. there's just this thing piloting his body outside doing shit he'd like to do and meeting people he'd like to meet. in fact he even seems bitter

that's why str haruka is generally more serious? ofc he's still happy and all cheerful like always but in the canon content str haruka feels like. he really feels grown up, compared to others. same goes for characters like ayano&takane, mostly bc we see them again after a timeskip but still. with haruka especially i think!! thats also why i think jin chose him specifically to express this weird growing up feeling.

so. erm. now he's back and of course he's happy and excited but all these feelings HAVE a lasting impact. they dont just disappear u know. he thought he'd die, then he did. and now he's alive?? and on top of it an adult?? and has to figure out what the hell to do?? being back from the dead after is already a complicated situation by itself. and there's all these complicated feelings with all these people he loves but they dont even know him and he's very happy everyone seems to be willing to get to know him but he can sense how sad they are about konoha, because he Saw the friendship they established with it.

and haruka's like... i am the only person here who ended up bizarrely benefiting from everything that happened. because for everyone else, if for example clearing eyes wasnt evil, they kind of would've made it through. mekatrio wouldve suffered their sad backstories, them+ayano&kenjirou would've suffered ayaka's loss anyway yeah, but further than that it wouldn't have gone downhill. takane and ayano wouldnt have had to die, shintaro wouldnt have become a shut in, kano wouldve never hidden anything from his siblings, hibiya and hiyori wouldn't meet that fate in the city. and haruka would die at 17 years old, period!!!

he is so guilty for being alive when the very thing that helped him survive put everyone else through so much pain. he is so guilty for being thankful for it. ofc its NOT LIKE THAT, OF COURSE HE SHOULDNT BE GUILTY, but i think that's how haruka sort of receives this sudden survival.

not only that but... someone else died for him to be here too. haruka isn't only guilty for that bizarre gratitude but also... konoha!!!

how much does he deserve this when u put konoha in question too?? people who loved haruka, like takane and shintaro, have already mourned him. while konoha is being mourned by like 7 more people. people that again, HARUKA ALSO LOVES BUT THEY DON'T REALLY KNOW HIM!! technically thats not fair then. so maybe konoha deserves it more!?!?! of course haruka is human and konoha isn't, and it's HIS body, but it's because of konoha his body is functioning at all now. so is he robbing it of its life?? but didnt it also rob haruka the body in the first place, by tossing him out and leaving him behind?? this is all the shit i think haruka is conflicted over lmao. who deserved it more or at all... but does it even matter bc konoha IS here and its helping haruka stay alive by playing its awakening eyes role.

but also by feeling guilty over the life he's so happy to have back isn't he undervaluing everyone's willingness to get to know him and honor konoha?? undervaluing takane&shintaro's excitement to reunite with him?? undervaluing even his own happiness at having another chance at life?? well. he has to navigate through it. and he paints pictures at the same time because groceries need to be bought and bills needs to be paid, and aw man, MORE dishes?? he JUST washed those. and after that he should remember to clean the bathroom, its been a while. and do the laundry the dirty clothes pile is getting ridiculous. AND REPEAT!!!!!! because ur a grown up :3

but... he does love painting these pics... and he does love all the snacks he buys after doing groceries!!! and clean clothes are so nice especially when theyre warm from the sun!!! rent is worrying but he's got a roommate who helps him pay it!!! he's always loved his roommate too and has wanted to see her again for so long and now she's there right next to him when he wakes up everyday!!!!!!! and if it were that they can't pay rent they've got so many friends willing to help out!!!!! and he also loves all these friends!!!!! his life...... IS GOOD!!! LIFE... IS GOOD....!!!!!!!!!

he loves life he loves being alive. even if there are so many complicated feelings haruka is so happy he is alive. and wherever it is konoha is happy too. embrace the world with childlike wonder and joy, OKAY?? PEACE AND LOVE ON PLANET EARTH.

#ask tag #kagenalysis #haruka: u go through the worst breakdown of ur life then go grocery shopping in the next hour #haruka kokonose

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kayssweetdreams · 1 year

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Nightmaren Babies Ch 17

Meanwhile, Back in the Night Dimension...

Owl let out a satisfied 'Hoo' as he finished his fifth cup of Tea. The close call with the false Nightmaren had left him on edge, and now he was staying...a lot longer than he should be in Nightmare. Wizeman had hovered off to cook some dinner for his "children", and was too busy to see if what his two top ranking maren were doing.

Owl was too full to move, but he still needed to make his way to 'NiGHTS' and 'Reala' and keep them from being found out. Letting out a strain, he struggled to lift himself into the air and pop to where the false Nightmaren were. Gathering what little energy he had, he teleported himself to where NiGHTS and Reala's doppelgangers were...and they were inanimate again

"Hoo! C'mon you two! Why don't you play? Or have another duel?" He hooted, hoping to get the two of them to at least move a little bit "(SIGH) We already DID that Owl...we're bored." 'NIGHTS' Groaned, flopping on their back. Owl paled, if he didn't get these two to start moving, he was dead meat. "But...Um...Reala? Don't you want to command your armies?" He asked desperately, but to his dismay, the red 'Maren' shook his head "Already did that. It got dull without anything to command them for..." He said.

Owl sweatdropped. He was running out of ideas. There HAD to be something that could get them moving again. Suddenly, Jackle came hovering over to them "Hey NiGHTS! Reala! Owl!" He said, the tinge of insanity still in his voice. "Jackle? What is it you want?" Owl asked, hoping to keep him from catching onto the fakes. "I was going over some new flirting material, and I was hoping to try to see if it actually works." He said, holding up some cards.

The three of them fought back a cringe. The words 'Jackle' and 'Test' in the same sentence never ended well...but in Owl's mind, this could be considered a good thing, as it would keep 'NiGHTS' and 'Reala' busy for a while. Jackle cleared his throat as he read the first card

"Can you touch my hand? I want to tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel."

The two maren groaned as Owl fought a groan of his own...he was beginning to IMMENSLY regret this.

#NiGHTS Journey of Dreams #NiGHTS into Dreams #NiGHTS #Reala #Owl #Jackle #Wizeman

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ellemany · 2 years

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We are Young - Part 2

<<<Previous Part

Part 2

Recommended Music: We are young - Fun. ft. Janelle Monáe

To open a lock it only needs two hairpins, patience and some skills. Opening a biometrically-sealed door at the base of the Valorant Protocol required a knife, two pieces of bubblegum, and a vague knowledge of programming and circuit breakers.

Phoenix was impressed to find that Yoru actually had all these qualities.

- Where did you learn to do this?

- Here and there. - Yoru shrugged, chewing gum.

The Brit nodded slowly, watching with fascination as the other broke into Chamber's private cellar, which was locked by both biometrics and a padlock. He knew Chamber loved wine, but had no idea he was capable of installing a protection system for his drinks, complete with various traps around the cellar. Only that wasn't Yoru's proof. He managed to get a portal into the apartment. He teleported into the other dimension and taped the trap sensors before starting work on the usual security after opening the front door to Phoenix.

- Ready. - Yoru opened the cellar, looking at the wines. - I think he has something here from the Medieval era. - He raised an eyebrow, picking up a bottle with the faded label. - 1948? - Yoru made an indignant face. - Why doesn't he share this shit??

Phoenix took the bottle from his hand, eyeing it.

- I bet it's spoiled and he only uses it to show off.

Yoru looked from Phoenix to the bottle and nodded, picking up another random bottle.

- Let’s go. - He closed the cellar with his foot, going for the apartment door.

- Oh no no no! - Phoenix placed a hand on Yoru's shoulder, making him stop. - Where do you think you're going?

Yoru frowned at Phoenix. As he focused on the task of breaking into Chamber's apartment, his usual sobriety and bad temper returned.

- Kick your fucking ass for getting between me and the fancy wine. What about that?

- Dude, we're at Chamber's apartment. - The look Phoenix sent Yoru made him feel extremely dumb. The Japanese wandered his eyes around the luxurious place, lingering on a painting of Chamber himself that must have cost him his organs, body and soul. He felt like ripping it apart just out of anger. Who the hell had a painting of themselves in the living room? Especially in a temporary apartment. - Aren't you going to enjoy it?

Yoru moistened his lips, looking away from the Ink Chamber.

- I might not be the best thief in the world yet… - Yoru began, trying hard not to look away from Chamber's upright piano. Even though it wasn't a grand piano, it appeared to be made of real wood and had details of... Pure gold?? - But I already know you shouldn't stay too long at a crime scene.

- We are beginners bro. We have to allow ourselves to make mistakes. - Before Yoru could argue, Phoenix pulled him into the apartment, handing him the bottle he was holding. - Stay there. I'll take the goblets.

Phoenix went to Chamber's kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. Even the guy's pans looked high-tech.

Yoru looked around, turning back to the piano again. He walked over to the instrument, placing the wine bottles on top of it. He wandered his free hand over the óano keys, trying to make some decent music out of there. He failed.

- Oooh Monsieur Yoru! - Phoenix returned holding two crystal goblets. - Tres bien!

Yoru blinked twice, raising an eyebrow.

- Cringe? - Phoenix passed the glasses to Yoru, tilting his head to the side.

- Too much.

- It was worth trying. - Phoenix took the bottle of older wine, opening it. - Ha! Without spilling a drop! - The Brit smiled smugly.

Yoru rolled his eyes with a smile handing the glasses to Phoenix.

- Shall we toast again?

- Sure! - Phoenix smiled excitedly, pouring the wine into the glasses. He set the bottle on the piano, then took his glass. - For now. Because an asteroid could hit Earth in five minutes.

Yoru pressed his lips, holding out his glass to Phoenix, toasting.

- For the moments that were not spoiled by the catastrophes.

- Poetic. - Phoenix nodded with pleasure, drinking his wine along with Yoru.

As soon as he tasted the drink, Phoenix regurgitated, taking a few steps back. Yoru grimaced, swallowing in disgust.

- It was really spoiled.

- Fuck Chamber, it was a joke! - Phoenix stuck his tongue out, trying to get the bad taste out. - Damn that's disgusting.

- Open another bottle. - Yoru sighed, looking at Chamber's painting. - Who the hell has a fucking picture of themselves, man?

- Ah… - Phoenix looked at the painting, pouting as he opened the bottle. - I would have such a picture of me.

- Because you're a narcissist.

- No, man. You're so... Shallow. - Yoru looked at Phoenix raising an eyebrow. Of all the curses they'd ever exchanged, this one had probably been the worst. Phoenix filled his wine glass, filling Yoru's next.

- Go on specialist. Explains the complexity of the thing. - Yoru crossed his arms, holding the cup between his fingers.

- Umm... - Phoenix took a big gulp of wine, much tastier than the last. He approached the painting, tilting his head to the side. - He's not perfect. The dimple on one side is very evident, his strange nose is clear. He loves those tattoos, do you really think they'd be so matte if it were up to him? - Phoenix held the cup between his fingers, placing a hand on his chin. - This painting is nothing about him. It's about how one sees him.

Yoru looked from Phoenix to the painting, noting the traces of the painting. The smile was instinctive, natural. If it wasn't for Chamber there, Yoru might even smile. She focused on his eyes, the windows of the soul. Bright from the smile, but looking closely, it looked like there were tears there. Chamber's posture was also tense, with his hands flexed so he could see his hamstrings. He was smiling, but holding back the tears.

Yoru wondered how someone who was modeling for an expensive painting could be so seemingly happy and at the same time so sad.

If Yoru looked at that painting longer, he would end up identifying too much with Chamber. Even the rich bastard was wearing a mask.

- If you could be anyone... - Yoru said, looking away from the painting. - Who would you be?

Phoenix sipped his wine, throwing his head back.

- Why would I want to be someone else besides myself?

- Everyone wants to be someone else.

- I like being me.

- For real?

- For real.

Yoru sipped his wine, wondering if he wanted to remain himself forever.

- I like you.

Yoru turned to Phoenix, blinking.

- For real?

Phoenix nodded, walking around the apartment and picking up the bottle of wine.

- For real. - He said, going to Chamber's room, tipping the bottle.

Yoru turned to Chamber's painting, looking at him.

Yoru was sad, complicated and annoying. He didn't see much in himself to be likable. But if someone as kind as Phoenix liked him… Maybe he should give himself a chance.

After all, he was too young to hate himself to death. He decided to start there, in small steps, to like himself more.

And that was a grand act.

Music began to play through the apartment. Yoru followed the melody, heading to Chamber's room. He found the Brit standing on top of a large bed, still drinking from the neck. Phoenix's eyes blazed with fire as he saw Yoru, putting the bottle down.

- Dance With Me. - Phoenix asked, doing a silly dance.

Yoru watched him for a few seconds, until he nodded, climbing onto the bed. He started dancing with Phoenix, following the song whose lyrics he didn't understand. Alcohol seemed to have more effect. However, unlike all the other times he drank, Yoru wanted to laugh. He laughed and jumped on the bed, followed by Phoenix who also laughed for no reason.

After all, they were too young not to laugh for no reason.

Phoenix slipped on the sheet, falling onto the bed. The wine spilled all over him.

- Oh shit.- Phoenix held the bottle, grimacing. He watched Yoru laughing about him, until he smirked. - Lil Nas X.

- Umm? - Yoru raised an eyebrow, with a lingering smile.

- If I wanted to be someone else, which I don't, it would be Lil Nas X. I won't explain.

Yoru thought for a while and nodded. He flopped down on the bed beside Phoenix, staring at the ceiling, dizzy as ever.

- And you? - Phoenix asked, lying on his side.

Yoru shrugged, putting his hands behind his head.

- I don't know... - He smirked. - I liked this idea of being me... After all... I'm too amazing. - Yoru laughed, following Phoenix's train of thought, seeing himself through other eyes. - I have blue hair. The perfect stereotype of a bad guy. I built my image well out there... And I can teleport, fuck it, I'm badass. If we're in fps, only an idiot wouldn't want to play with me. By the way... If I get shot tomorrow and die... I want you to talk in my.. - Yoru turned to the side, looking at Phoenix. The Brit had his eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. Yoru smirked, lying on his side, watching the other's serenity. Yoru didn't remember when his mouth had pulled up in so many smiles, nor when he'd talked as much as he did that night. - Thanks… - He whispered, getting closer to Phoenix. He closed his eyes, feeling as peaceful as ever. The calm of that small moment should have been infinite.

He only opened his eyes when the sun was flooding the room and someone was screaming... Oh no.

- MERDE! WHAT ARE YOU TWO IMBÉCILES DOING HERE???

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Thank you for reading!

( ∩ˇωˇ∩)♡

#valorant #valorant yoru #valorant phoenix #We are young #Part 2 #valorant fanfiction #me trying #yeeep i'll make a decent banner later

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spacesuitsforemergency · 4 years

Text

The Rise Of Iron Maiden

Chapter 4: Failure to Launch

Word Count: 2.9k

Originally Requested by: @amateurwriterbigdreamer

Previous Chapter: We’re in the Endgame Now

Next Chapter: The Return Of Iron Maiden

A/N: this chapters kinda slow, but I gotta fill the plot. Next chapters gonna be pretty Tye heavy (mostly from his POV)

“Wrah!” Nebula stood up, putting her hands in a fighting stance.

“You don't need to do that. Because uh... you're just holding position.” Tony mimicked a football goalpost with his hands as she flicked a paper football towards him. “Oh yeah, that was close.”

“I would like to try again.”

You and Tye watched from the front of the ship, both of you previously watching the stars. Both of you are silent, neither of you wanting to talk. You were still too shaken up from the events of nearly last month. Nebula had attempted to fly you back to Earth, but the Milano broke down and now you were floating in space, hopeless.

“Fair game. Good sport. Have fun?” Your dad asked Nebula.

“It was...fun.” She nodded slowly.

“Tye, Y/N, wanna play?” Tony looked over to the two kids.

“I’m good.” Tye mumbled.

“Hey, come on.” Your dad urged. “It’s fun. Right, Nebula?”

“It is fun.” She nodded, face deadpanned. Tye sighed, but eventually joined them.

“Y/N?” Your dad offered.

“Um...I’m tired, I’m gonna go sleep for a little bit.” You give him a small smile as if to say you were okay, before retreating to the back of the ship towards the bedrooms.

You lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You think about everyone at home, and the frustration of not knowing who was still alive. Were Eduardo, Jaime, Peter, Quill, Drax, Mantis and Doctor Strange still alive? Or did they die? Would they ever come back? Could you bring them back?

Usually Eduardo was there to tell you you were overthinking and to calm you down, but he was gone. He turned to dust in your hands, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You hated it when you couldn’t control something, much like your father. If you couldn’t protect the ones you loved, you felt useless. You felt guilty, believing it was your fault that Eduardo, Jaime and Peter were gone. You were even guilty about the Guardians of the Galaxy, even though you barely knew them.

You looked over at your pile of armor on the floor. You dragged yourself out of bed, sitting against it. You clicked a button on your helmet, and waited for it to light up.

“This thing on?” You ask nobody in particular, then let it scan you. “Alright. Hey mom. Uh...sorry for not listening to dad. Again. I should be down on Earth, I’m sorry I’m worrying you. Dad makes you do that enough already.” You chuckle softly. “Um...it’s day 22, just floating in space. The blue meanie tried to fly us back. You’d like her, she’s very practical. It’s only her, me, dad, and Tye left. He doesn’t talk much-well, not that he did before. He’s pretty broken over Jaime. Peters gone too, poor kid. Aunt Mays gonna kill him. Um...I lost Eduardo. He just...turned into dust. I couldn’t do anything about it...I really miss him, mom. I won’t miss him much longer though, in fact, I might see him in the next...48 hours of oxygen. It won’t last long with four people on here though. I didn’t think I’d die like this, it’s so pathetic.” You scoff and shake your head. “I thought I’d die saving people. I want to die saving people, that’s how I’ve always wanted to go but...nope. I’m gonna die because this piece of junk broke down in the middle of the universe. So uh...I’m gonna go play some paper football with the two grumps and dad. I’m really sorry, mom. All you do is put up with our shit, and tell us when to stop. I should’ve listened this time.” You go to turn it off, quickly saying, “I love you.”

You fall back against the bed, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. The low oxygen levels are already effecting you, which meant your dad and friend were both feeling them too. You wanted to go join them, but you couldn’t move your whole body enough to do so. You lied there, staring at your Iron Maiden suit. The suit you used to save people, but you couldn’t even save yourself. You failed Eduardo. Jaime. Peter. Quill. Drax. Mantis. Doctor Strange. And who knows who else.

You feel yourself being lifted off the ground, and you look up to see Nebula. She was mostly machine, so the lack of oxygen wasn’t effecting her as bad as you. She carried you over to a couch that she had dragged into the control room, facing the window. Your dad was sitting in the middle, Tye beside him. Nebula sat you on his other side, then left.

Tony gathered enough strength to lift his arms, resting them around the two kids’ shoulders and pulling them closer to him. He wanted to comfort them, but he couldn’t speak. You all stared out at the stars, awaiting your deaths.

•

A bright light pierced your brain, making you cringe as you wake up. You open your eyes and blink until they adjust. You see a woman outside of the ship, looking in. You weakly shake your dads leg, trying to alert him. His hand rests atop of yours to tell you he’s okay, as he slowly sits up a little.

“Who’s that?” Tye mumbles, half asleep.

“Not sure, kid.” Tony replied. You pass out again, not able to hold consciousness. You wake up again when someone shakes you awake, opening your eyes to see your dads best friend, Rhodey.

“Y/N? Hey, think you can stand?” He asked softly. You nod, and he helps you to your feet you lean on him as he walks you down the ramp to outside.

“Is mom...?” You breathe out, still blinking away black spots in your vision.

“Y/N! Tony!” You hear her yell from somewhere, before Rhodey can even open his mouth. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Your mom practically crashed into you, holding you tightly to her. You fall into her, not having the strength to stand any longer. Your dad walks by himself over to his two girls, hugging them tightly. Back in space, he truly thought those would be his last moment, so he was eternally grateful that he got to live long enough to hold them both again.

Tye watched the scene from where Natasha was helping him stand, feeling alone. His mother was in a different dimension than him, and Tye felt like she probably didn’t even miss him.

“Nat?” He breathed out.

“What’s up?” She asked, looking down at the exhausted boy.

“You have food that isn’t freeze dried and in a silver bag, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, come on.” She chuckled, helping him walk towards the Compound.

“Don’t you two ever do that again.” Pepper began to cry.

“No promises.” Tony kissed each of his girls on top of the head, as Steve approached you guys. “Couldn’t stop him, Cap.”

“Neither could I.” Steve nodded.

“I lost the kids. Peter. Jaime. Eduardo.” Tony shook his head, guilt washing over him once again.

“Tony, we all lost.”

You’re brought into the compound, each immediately given an IV and some food. You and Tye eat like animals, not having any rations for the past couple of days. You watch a holographic screen listing the heroes that disappeared in the Decimation; Wanda Maximoff, Nick Fury, Jaime Reyes, Bucky Barnes, Peter Quill, Scott Lang, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, T’Challa, Eduardo Dorado Jr...

“It’s been 23 days since Thanos came to Earth.” Rhodey announced.

“World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working are trying to take a census. And it looks like he did... he did exactly what he said he was gonna do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent, of all living creatures.” Natasha paced slowly in front of the holographs.

“Where is he?” You ask timidly, still nervous about him.

“We don't know. He just opened a portal and walked through.” Bruce Banner said slowly, trying to not scare the kids even more than they already were.

“What's wrong with him?” Tony asked, motioning to Thor, who was staring into space.

“Oh, he's pissed. He thinks he failed. Which of course he did, but you know there's a lot of that's going around, ain't there?” A talking raccoon spoke up from behind you.

“Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.” Your dad pointed at him.

“You’re with him, kid? Really?” The raccoon looked at Tye.

“You know a talking raccoon?” You asked Tye, staring at the raccoon.

“He’s not a-.”

“I’m not a raccoon!” It snapped at you. “Why do you humies keep saying that?”

“We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep Space scans, and satellites, and we got nothing. Tony, Y/N, Tye, you fought him.” Steve interrupted.

“Who told you that? I didn't fight him.” Tony scoffed. “No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the store. Nearly killed my daughter, and Tye. One hit away from it, in fact. That's what happened. There was no fight.”

“Okay.”

“He was unbeatable.” Tye shook his head, and you agreed.

“Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?” Captain America asked.

“Pfft! I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision. I didn't wanna believe it. Thought I was dreaming.” Tony said.

“Dad, calm down.”

“Tony, I’m gonna need you to focus.”

“And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It's too late buddy. Sorry. You know what I need?” Your dad stood up, slapping things off a table. Everyone winced from the sudden noise. “I need to shave. And I believe I remember telling all youse-“

Tony lunges at Steve, but Rhodey stepped between them and held your dad back.

“Alive and otherwise what we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not-that's what we needed!” Tony yelled at Steve.

“Well, that didn't work out, did it?” Steve kept his composure, only angering your father even more.

“I said, "we'd lose". You said, "We'll do that together too." And guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren't there. But that's what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We're the Avengers, we're the Avengers. Not the Prevengers.”

“Dad! Stop!” You shout at him, your head spinning.

“You know what, honey? The adults are talking, alright?” Your dad said, with a little more venom than he intended.

“Mr. Stark you made your point just-“ Tye started.

“Nah, nah. Here's my point. You know what?” Tony turned back to glare at Captain America.

“Tony, you’re sick.” Rhodey insisted, trying to get him to sit back down.

“I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust. Liar.” Tony slowly walked up to Steve, getting right in his face. You all tensed when Tony ripped his arc reactor out of his chest, smacking it into Steve’s hand. “Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on. You hide.”

“Dad!” You shout when he suddenly falls to the ground.

“Tony!” Steve reached down to help his old friend up.

“I’m fine. I...” Your dad trails off, falling unconsciously to the floor. You try to get up, but Natasha pushes you back down by your shoulders.

“Get him to a room. Call Pepper.” Natasha ordered the men, before turning back to you two. “He’ll be fine, Y/N. Just needs to rest. So do you.”

“Not tired.” You shook your head stubbornly.

“Nebula, Rocket, think you can handle watching them for a moment?” She asked the two aliens, sitting on the wall behind you.

“Yes.” Nebula nodded.

“Sure.” The raccoon, or, Rocket shrugged.

Natasha gave you a reassuring smile before turning to help the other bring your father to a room.

“Sorry about your friend, kid.” Rocket hopped down and rounded the couch you and Tye were on to face him.

“Yeah. Sorry about the others.” Tye nodded, expression not changing at all. Your eyes drifted back to the screen, watching more and more names and pictures appear onscreen.

“Where are you going?” You hear Natasha ask someone.

“To kill Thanos.” The lady that flew you home stated simply as they emerged from the hallway.

“Hey, you know, we usually work as a team here, and between you and I, morale's a little fragile.” Nat mumbled.

“We realize up there is more your territory, but this is our fight too.” Steve nodded.

“You even know where he is?” Rhodey joined them.

“I know people who might.” The lady said, blank faced.

“Don't bother. I can tell you where Thanos is. Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. And when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him. I'd ask "where would we go once his plan was complete?". His answer was always the same: "To the Garden." Nebula stood up, walking over to them.

“That's cute, Thanos has a retirement plan.” Rhodey joked, earning small smiles from you and Tye. He smiled back, glad to bring the two kids joy, even for a moment.

“So where is he?” Steve asked, and the adults walked over to a round table. You and Tye joined them, regaining enough strength to stand. You still leaned on Rhodey, which he happily let you do.

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power surge of ridiculously cosmic proportions. No one's ever seen anything like it... Until two days ago.” Rocket showed a hologram of a planet, with a shockwave visibly traversing the surface. “On this planet.”

“Thanos is there.” Nebula added.

“He used the Stones again.” Natasha muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey. We'd be going in short-handed, you know.” Bruce piped up.

“Look, he's still got the stones, so...” Rhodey said.

“So let's get him... Use them to bring everyone back.” The lady told you.

“Just like that?” Tye raises an eyebrow in disapproval.

“Just like like.” Steve nodded.

“Even if there's a small chance that we can undo this... I mean we owe it to everyone who's not in this room to try.” Natasha tried to convince everyone. You looked down, feeling the guilt from letting your friends die in the pit of your stomach.

“If we do this, how do we know it's gonna end any differently than it did before?” Bruce asked.

“Because before, you didn't have me.” The lady crossed her arms.

“Hey, new girl, everyone here is about that superhero life. And if you don't mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?” Rhodey put a hand on his hip, making sure to balance so you wouldn’t fall.

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe. And unfortunately, they didn't have you guys.” The lady narrowed her eyes at Rhodey.

Thor walked out of the shadows, towards the lady. They stand in front of each other as if challenging the other. Thor holds out his hand, and Stormbreaker flies into his hand. Then they both grin at each other.

“I like this one.” Thor said.

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch.” You growl.

“Like hell you’re going!” Natasha laughed.

“No way, kids.” Steve shook his head. “Adults only on this one.”

“Would you quit treating us like children?” You glare at them.

“We probably got more punches in on Thanos than all of you combined.” Tye said venomously.

“First of all, not possible.” Natasha said. “Second of all, you are not coming. Tony and Pepper would go into cardiac arrest if you came along.”

You and Tye exchange looks, looking to the floor in compliance.

“Look, we know you’re hurting. But going at him all malnourished and seeking revenge is not the way to do it.” Rhodey told you guys.

“You’ll stay here with Tony and Pepper, okay?” Natasha asked. “Rest. Let us take care of this.”

“...okay.” You sigh.

“Thank you.” She pulled both of you into a hug. You melted into it, Tye tensed up.

You hugged each of the remaining Avengers, even Thor let you hug him, though he didn’t hug back. You and Tye stood and watched at they boarded the now fixed Milano, then watched them take off. You stood there for a little bit after, staring at the dark sky.

“Tye?” You whisper after a long stretch of silence.

“Yeah?”

“You think they can do it?” You ask

Tye hesitates. You’re scared, he’s scared, and both of you just want even a glimpse of hope. He debates what to tell you, what he truly thought or what he knew you wanted to hear.

“...no.”

You nod slowly, agreeing with him. A single tear falls down your face, dropping onto the paved pathway.

“I miss them, too.” Tye took a shaky breath, fighting his own tear ducts. He never cried, let alone in front of anyone.

“I’m sorry you lost Jaime.” You turn to him. “I know how much he meant to you. Eduardo too.”

“I’m sorry you lost Peter. You guys are as close as Jaime and I are. And I’m sorry you lost Eduardo, too.” Tye quickly blinked away tears.

“Can you believe they’re all gone?” You ask.

“No.” He shook his head. “I wish it could just be a month ago. When we were on that one mission.”

“The one where Jaime and Peter accidentally broke into Scott Lang’s house?” You giggle.

“How do you accidentally break in?” Tye laughed, shaking his head. “They’re truly idiots.”

“But they’re our idiots.” You nod, smiling sadly at the sky.

#the rise of iron maiden #eduardo dorado jr x stark! reader #tye longshadow #natasha romanoff #james rhodes #tony stark #bruce banner #thor odinson #carol danvers #rocket raccoon #nebula #avengers endgame #marvel #jaime reyes #spiderman #peter parker

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