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theminecraftbee · 6 months

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hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

#hermithorrorweek2023 #a bee fic #hermitcraft #xisuma #evil xisuma #emotional abuse #mind manipulation #(like genuine warning for emotional abuse here albeit like. somewhat subtle manipulation type.)#if this fic is late in my time zone. no it isn't.#anyway. i will never stop thinking about. whatever was going on between xisuma and evil xisuma in season 8.#anyway. ANYWAY. god one day i'll write the Very Dead Serious Take on that plotline. maybe this is one piece of it.#anyway the horror here is only barely the implied possession it's more the implied. emotional abuse.#GOD i will not stop thinking about the implications of that storyline whether intended or not #like. i'm forever like. did he INTEND to imply the abuse that so many of those cutscenes imply #or was he just trying to write evil xisuma acting like a villain?#anyway this isn't how i'd write evil x for any season that isn't season eight specifically btw you can blame it on jeff if needed

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adharastarlight · 2 years

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Should I have started a muggle uni AU where Regulus and Remus are roommates, as are Sirius and James and Sirius is casually hooking up with Remus. And then when James starts dating Regulus things get awfully complicated for poor lil Rem and Si? Featuring MaryLily and Dorlene?

Yes. I don't care if I went to sleep at 4am. It's worth it.

Ahem: Give Me Some Credit - Brokenvibes (ao3)

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1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam · 23 days

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Watching Eddie Begins with Buddie-colored glasses on is already crazy enough, but I just caught something that I never really thought about before. Athena tells Bobby that the news crews showing up before she leaves for another call might turn the call into a nationwide story. And then Buck absolutely LOSES it when 30 feet of wet earth falls on top of Eddie. So yeah, maybe Bobby pulls Buck away to stop him from futilely digging for Eddie with his hands, but maybe he also does it because he doesn’t want his kid’s grief and fear and love for Eddie being broadcast across the country. Especially not when Bobby thinks that Eddie’s probably already dead. And not only does Bobby pull Buck away from the well, he pulls back right into his lap. This is the closest we get to Bobby cradling Buck in his arms until the lightning strike, and it’s because he doesn’t want Buck to be in pain, and he most certainly does NOT want the tragedy of Eddie’s death to be made even worse by Buck’s pain over it being broadcast to the entire country.

#bobby is buck's dad #911 #9-1-1 #911 abc #9-1-1 abc #buddie #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #athena grant #also #just because I’ve never really posted meta about Eddie begins before #we REALLY need to talk about the fact that Buck’s reaction to Eddie’s potential demise is the ONLY reaction show live and in color #season 3 buddie was NOT subtle in the slightest y’all #I know there’s so many fics out there about Eddie finding a video of Buck’s reaction to him being trapped but I want one where he watches #and is ALSO so fucking grateful for Bobby pulling Buck away from where he was buried #for taking care of his partner when he wasn’t topside to do it himself #that still of Bobby and eddie talking for s7 reallyyyy has me in my feels about these three men and their incredible dynamic #well scene #you will always be famous #fuck the writers for this actually #(affectionate)

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rosekillersums · 2 months

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If yall into this headcanon I'm sorry, you do you but I hate open relationship& 'oh its okay if you flirt or dance with someone else in the end of the day I know you are mine' kinda rosekiller...What do you mean they are not the most possessive couple in the Hogwarts?? What do you mean they both wouldn't do insane things when they are jealous??? Just thinking of them being possessive&jealous of each other makes me feral!!!!

#i want more fics like this #barty definetly broke someones nose for looking at evan so much #rosekiller #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #marauders #evan would try to hide his jealousy and be subtle about it

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yellowocaballero · 4 months

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Omg hi Ms. Yellow Caballero big fan of your work <3 For real though, I'm really excited that your sharing the Weekenders, it was a joy to read and I'm bongocat-ing now that others also get the privilege to read it as well.

Referencing your tags, would you please elaborate of ableism in fandom and, like you said, how fandom treats characters with unpalatable disabilities?

Hi Ms. Bud Lite I'm a big fan of you <3

TL;DR A fear of writing characters of highly marginalized identities shields you from criticism and discomfort, but it's actively stigmatizing to people of these identities and as a writer you really need to get over yourself and write The Icky People.

I guess I'll come out swinging on this one and say that fandom doesn't like severe mental illness. (As a note, when I say severe mental illness (SMI) I mean illnesses such as psychotic disorders, bipolar disorder, substance use disorders, personality disorders, etc)

Obviously, nobody likes people w/SMI. It's just insanely egregious in fandom to me, since fanfic writers absolutely love writing characters or HC characters with depression, anxiety, or a specific variety of PTSD That Isn't Scary. People actively reject any character HCs for a SMI. When people write a character with SMI, they nicely downplay it, ignore it, substitute it for a disorder they like better, or rewrite it. It's completely untolerated, in both headcanons and in fanfiction, and every time I bring it up I always get the most interesting reasons why somebody couldn't possibly acknowledge a character's SMI in their writing. I've heard all of these:

"I don't know enough about the disorder to write it accurately." Do research.

"I'm not X, so I can't really depict it." You probably aren't a cis white man, but you depict those guys just fine.

"It feels insulting to the character." There is no shame in having a SMI.

"I can't understand what it's like, so it's better to be cautious and avoid giving characters stigmatized identities." There are LOTS of experiences that you'll never understand because you've never had them - you just don't want to write anything you're uncomfortable with. People with SMI make you uncomfortable, and you don't want to write anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or think of a comfort character in an uncomfortable way. SMIs are marginalized differently than solely depression/anxiety/The Nice PTSD, and by refusing to write them you're actively contributing to the stigma.

I think (?) I've spoken in the past about how I believe that the rigorous external and internal policing of writing people of marginalized identities is actively harmful towards efforts to increase diversity of experience and background in fiction. A lot of fanfiction writers are just terrified to write people who they can't directly relate with, because they're worried 'they'll get it wrong' and be Big Cancelled. I think this is negative enough when it prevents people from going outside of their comfort zone, but on a macro level I think this results in people refusing to write characters of marginalized identities as all. It's an insidious thought process, and it's reflected in people's unwillingness to diversity their writing or acknowledge canon diversity.

'Well, I don't understand what it's like to be Black, so I don't want to write Black people'. 'I want to project on this character, so I only want to write them with mental illnesses and identities I have'. 'If I write a marginalized character incorrectly people will yell at me, so I won't write a marginalized character who's marginalized differently than me at all'. Can you imagine writing a lesbian character with a boyfriend because 'you feel uncomfortable writing lesbian experiences'? It's blatantly homophobic. But people do that with disability and race/ethnicity ALL THE TIME.

People with SMI notice that you feel uncomfortable with them. It's obvious. They notice when a character has a SMI + anxiety, and you only write their anxiety. They notice when a character displays symptoms of a SMI in canon, but you write it out. And POC notice when the characters of color are written out. I know we all like to project on the blorbos and relate to them, and in the joys of your own head do whatever, but as a writer if you only stick to identities you're comfortable with you are actively being a worse writer. Which to me is the REAL sin lmfao.

#my asks #thanks for enabling me lizzy if i didn't get this out i would have just vagued for the rest of time #even just beyond all of this on a more subtle lvl. HC people with SMI cowards. just do it. its good for you.#the two times me/a close friend have proposed on a fandom server "hey I read X as having a SUD/being on the schizophrenic spectrum'#there was actual fascinating pushback and rejection #people got MAD.#'blorbo wouldn't be an alcoholic he's not a bad person :(' fuck off #i dont use the word often but its ableism and you can be mentally ill and still ableist #if you dont feel educated enough on something to write it then do research #and while research wont give you everything it's a start #if you feel like you can only write people just like you then frankly? skill issue #i mentioned that the last fic was a bit of a spite fic - well #it was scientifically fascinating how the majority of a fandom wrote/acknowledged a character as depressed and anxious #but actively got incredibly defensive when someone suggested that the psychotic character may have had a psychotic disorder #it was so blatant. very annoying. anyway.

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wykart · 7 months

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Aloy and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad (???)

(it's a fic btw)

#not so subtle beg for hits but also I wanted to draw her :)#horizon forbidden west #hfw #horizon #horizon zero dawn #aloy #fanart #digital art #my art #I say 'it's a fic'. it's a 240k word fic I've been working on for like 1.5 yrs lmao #so that's why you've had basically no art...all year

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camgoloud · 10 months

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i’m pretty sure this was done on the tlt subreddit once before but i haven’t seen it here and i’m curious to know tumblr’s opinions on the topic! personally i like the second two much more than the first—gtn didn’t really grab me that much and i wouldn’t have even called myself part of the fandom until i decided i might as well give htn a go and immediately got sucked in—but i’m guessing that most people’s experience is different, since the first book seems like the most popular based on the impressions i’ve gotten. also feel free to put in tags where you’d rank the short stories (as yet unsent and doctor sex) relative to the books! i would have stuck those in the poll too but there are. 120 different ways to order 5 unique objects

#personally it’s always going to be ayu >/= htn > ntn > dr sex > gtn for me #i do think that gtn might have had a chance against ntn if i had read gtn in the same mindset that i read nona (i.e. already completely 100%#obsessed with the world and characters) but there’s no way either of them could possibly hope to compete with the EXPERIENCE that is htn #and ayu is absolutely perfect for what what it is (character study of judith subtle worldbuilding exercise etc.)#like that short story more than anything else to me is where it’s clear that muir has written fanfic before because in the best possible way #ayu feels like one of those extremely high-quality 10-15k oneshot fics that you read and find your entire life permanently changed by #also the night that story leaked on this website was my destiel night so i will always have a fondness for it tied to that experience #the locked tomb #polls #if this HAS been done on here then i’m sorry and i’m not trying to steal anyone’s thunder! i just really want to know

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pandora15 · 30 days

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Angstpril 2024 Day 1 Prompt: Homesick

It’s so silent.

Growing up in Mos Espa, Anakin is used to the sounds of speeders, ships, travelers, merchants, and the occasional sandstorm pulsing through the night. He is used to a maelstrom of sounds surrounding him as he goes to sleep every night, accompanied by the sounds of his mother moving around their hut as quickly and silently as she can.

Even though Anakin heard her every night, there was comfort in hearing her motions. It meant that she was there with him — no matter what he dreamed, she would be there in the morning, smiling.

His mother was his biggest comfort, growing up.

To be away from her, away from Mos Espa and all the sounds the night would bring, feels so unfamiliar and uncomfortable that Anakin wonders if he will ever hear those sounds again.

For the first few nights, he was alright. He was excited — about becoming a Jedi, about being free and learning to be a Jedi from Master Qui-Gon. The emotions kept him up well enough to not realize just how much he missed being home.

But then the Battle of Naboo happened, Master Qui-Gon died, and now…

He’s sitting alone in this empty bedroom in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

They’d only just gotten back from Naboo about an hour ago. After a quick meeting with the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan had walked Anakin to the apartment — their apartment — opened the door to this bedroom, and told Anakin to go to sleep.

But it’s just too silent.

There’s no sound outside. No speeders, no ships, no travelers or merchants, and definitely no sandstorms.

Letting out a frustrated breath, Anakin sits up in the bed.

“Mom?” he whispers. “I hope…I hope you don’t feel as alone as I do right now. I wish you were here right now. Maybe you’d know what to do.”

She doesn’t answer.

Of course she doesn’t — she’s too far away.

She’s home, and Anakin is…

Why is he even here? Obi-Wan barely talks to him, barely even looks at him. He put him in this quiet room as soon as they arrived, and now Anakin is cold and lonely and he can’t stand the silence of it all.

Slowly, Anakin gets up and makes his way to the bedroom door.

Then, he takes a deep breath and uses his hand to slide the door open — just a little bit.

A sliver of light enters the room — just enough for Anakin to be able to see through into the common space of the apartment, where a lone figure sits on the couch turned away from Anakin, curled into the corner, hands pressed to its face.

Anakin’s breath stills at the sight. He’s seen something he shouldn’t’ve. That much is obvious.

Quickly, he retreats back into the bedroom and lets the door slide shut.

He tiptoes back to the bed, sits down.

The only thing he hears now is the sound of his own breaths — shuddering, uneven.

Swallowing, Anakin opens his mouth.

“I miss you,” he breathes, into the night.

#angstpril2024 #pandora writes #day 1 #homesick #fic #anakin skywalker #there's a bit of a subtle parallel between the homesickness that anakin and obi-wan experience after tpm that's just so fascinating to me #anyways i have no idea if i'll be doing more prompts than this #i definitely hope to

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makotonaegiunderstander · 1 month

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something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

#makoto naegi #Danganronpa character analysis #Danganronpa #danganronpa thh #danganronpa future arc #I fucking love Makoto Naegi man.#I think there’s a fine line of nuance to Makoto that’s easy to miss bc he doesn’t really make it known #he’s not a pushover and he’s not overpowered. he’s a people pleaser but he will say what needs to be said #he’s an immovable object and the exact opposite of Junko but he’s also just a normal guy who’s optimistic and (un)lucky #he isn’t invincible but he has immense power to his words the same way Junko did #if anything his superpower is being kind above all else. he’s compassionate to some of the worst people in the world.#he was even conpassionatr to an extent to Junko. he didnt want her to kill herself despite everything she’s done #and he still acknowledges that for years she was a classmate and friend.#I do think the more he learned abt what she did the more he’s come to actually hate her though #post the first game he always refers to her without a suffix to her name which is one of the most subtle rude things you can do #it means you have zero respect for the person you’re referring to #and he speaks about her with some venom he doesn’t use for anyone else in the future arc #he’s not incapable of feeling negative emotions #I really liked the future arc scene bc it showed that Makoto DID experience enough despair to have overcome him if he didn’t refuse #and that it still affects him deeply. people treat him like he’s either this perfect ideal Chad or this baby chick who’s so delicate #and no one really focuses on how makoto shoulders so much and yet is still vulnerable.#honestly that guy was DUE for a mental breakdown even without the tape. it would have happened eventually #I actually wrote one based on him finally hitting a breaking point after giving so much of himself away and keeping nothing for himself #that his issues that he shoves down constantly finally can’t be held down anymore. Hajime helps him bc he knows how that feels #it was a LONG time ago that I wrote that but honestly if I can remember where i was going w it I might finish it #it was initially an rp but I could make it a fic #anyway. the point is Makoto is SO much more complex than people give him credit for #the most fundamental thing about him is that he’s normal and that’s ok! that’s what helps him rise!

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owl-with-a-pen · 2 months

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Parthas had a vibrancy about it that Kara had seen nowhere else. She’d detailed it in her article the first time she’d visited with Nia, but no words could really do the town justice. Community really meant something here, humans and aliens alike worked together to keep their town thriving. And it was thriving.

Nia had once told Kara that her mother had been the heart of the town. She’d planted the flowers that still bloomed each spring on every street, bursting out from pots beneath the windows of local cafes. She’d been commissioned to paint original works for a lot of the community venues and had even designed a mural that was now proudly displayed across the first building that greeted outsiders into the town’s borders.

Isabel really was the heart – a heart that continued to beat even now that she was gone. Her vitality was ingrained into the lives of every person who called Parthas home, but none more than the family she’d built that home for.

Kara had been visiting Parthas more than anywhere else over the last few months. Not to fulfil her duties as Supergirl, but rather the infinitely more important duties of Kara Zor-El, Maid of Honour Extraordinaire. She’d been busy booking venues, securing hotel rooms, ordering flowers plus catering - giving just about any regular wedding planner a run for their money - and in all that time, she hadn’t yet needed to return to Nia’s own childhood home.

That was, until now.

“Thanks for doing this with me, Kara,” Nia said as they made their way up the cobbled pathway towards the front porch.

It was her first coherent sentence since they’d reached the town border. Nia had spent most of the drive passed out against the passenger side window, a surly furrow to her brow. Kara was willing to bet she hadn’t had a wink of sleep last night. After all, today’s trip wasn’t exactly something Nia had been looking forward to.

So, she tried to stay cheerful for them both. “Hey, of course.” She beamed, nudging Nia’s arm. “Alex didn’t bestow me with the title Best Maid of Honour Ever for nothing, you know.”

Nia did smile at that, although it couldn’t quite disguise the shadows beneath her eyes. She glanced up towards the house warily, her jaw set. “I’m just glad to have a buffer. Things have still been… weird between us, y’know?”

Kara winced sympathetically. “Is she here yet?”

Nia shrugged. “You tell me.”

Kara took that as her cue. She closed her eyes, opening her heightened senses as she listened out for any signs of life behind the varnished doorframe. She straightened almost immediately. “Well, there’s definitely a heartbeat in there. Your dad’s still out of town, right?”

“Suit and shoe shopping,” Nia said with a roll of her eyes. “I think he’s trying to get a wedding gift while he’s in the city, although he’s not really sure what a Coluan would want. I said waffle iron.”

Kara nodded seriously. “Brainy is getting pretty good with breakfast foods.”

“Right?”

Kara chuckled, catching herself when she noticed how intensely Nia was studying the door. She cleared her throat. “Ready?”

“For this? Never,” Nia muttered, grabbing for the doorhandle. “So here goes nothing.”

The house was just the same as Kara remembered, right down to the pleasant smell of vanilla mixed with acrylic paint that wafted down the hall. From the way Nia stiffened, Kara knew it wasn’t just her heightened senses picking it up.

Isabel’s paintings still decorated the walls, an intricately detailed doorway to her dreams in every direction they looked. Nia kept her eyes trained on the floor, sucking in a deep breath as she took her first step inside.

At the same time, a floorboard above them creaked and a shadow slunk over the banister, dipping swiftly towards them. They both looked up just as Maeve Nal appeared at the top of the stairs, a strained smile already etched in place.

At first, no one said a word.

Kara glanced awkwardly between the two sisters as they exchanged a long and wary look. Kara knew exactly what that kind of a look meant, she and Alex had shared it plenty of times themselves. Once, when they’d been teenagers, Kara had lost control of her heat vision during an argument with Eliza that had nearly burned the kitchen down. The following morning, she’d met Alex with the same expression Maeve was demonstrating now. An unspoken promise to try harder, to be on her best behaviour. No more outbursts.

But there had been- so many more - and so Kara understood the distrust in Nia’s eyes, that hesitancy to believe anything Maeve was selling her, no matter how much they both wanted it to be true.

When Nia remained silent, Maeve cleared her throat. “Nia, Kara, you’re early,” she said with forced cheer. “How was the journey?”

“It was fine,” Nia said quickly, an edge to her voice that made no room for small talk.

Maeve nodded anyway. “Good, that’s good. Do either of you want a drink, or--?”

“Can we just get started?” Nia interrupted, grabbing for the stair rail.

Maeve’s smile hardened into tight line. She pursed her lips, stepping away from the banister. “Of course. Come on up.”

Kara smiled politely as she passed Maeve on the landing. The last time they’d seen each other hadn’t exactly been under the best of circumstances. Not just that, but when they’d first met, Maeve had only known her as Kara Danvers, Nia’s work colleague and friend. Now, like the rest of the world, Maeve knew the truth.

That, right now, she was sharing a roof with Supergirl.

Not that Maeve seemed to care. Maybe she was used to superheroes with a family history as rich as Naltor’s, maybe she’d made the connection long ago - or maybe she was more focused on the well-being of her sister to pay it any thought. This was going to be a difficult experience for them both, Kara knew, and whether Nia admitted to it or not, there was a reason she’d wanted Maeve there with her today.

Nia took the lead down the hallway, walking a path she must have travelled a hundred times over the years, before stopping in front a doorway just across from her dad’s bedroom.

It was already open.

She waited for Kara to catch up from the corner of her eye, bracing herself, before heading through to the other side.

Kara followed her in, Maeve close behind. With all three of them in there, it should have felt crowded, but somehow the room was accommodating enough to fit everyone comfortably. Natural light flooded in from three large windows on the tallest part of the far wall, casting an inviting glow across the tan floorboards. A pink orchid was sat on the windowsill, petals fresh and flourishing in the sunlight.

An easel was set up in the centre of the room, an old canvas still hooked in place. The painting wasn’t finished, its meaning lost to time, but Kara couldn’t help but wonder.

Had this been Isabel’s final dream?

The room wasn’t just home to Isabel’s old artwork. Large antique wardrobes had been pushed against the wall, and boxes of old supplies gathered dust in a corner. The rest of the furniture had been hidden away beneath clean cotton sheets, as though they were already sharing the space with a handful of ghostly figures.

The studio kept parts of Isabel’s life in colour, at least, even if a few had been obscured along the way. Nia’s dad must have been looking after the room as best he could, and although nothing felt neglected, there were certain pieces of clutter that hadn’t been touched for a very long time.

“So,” Maeve said, leaning against the doorway. “Where do you want to start looking?”

Nia didn’t speak; her dark eyes worked over the room, flickering quickly from spot to spot. She didn’t marvel the place like when she’d first visited the Fortress - there was nothing new about it, not really. Kara knew that this was far from Nia’s first visit home since her mother’s passing. Last summer, she and Brainy had stayed in Parthas for three weeks after their engagement announcement, and Nia had since set aside a weekend every month to visit her dad. In all that time, though, Nia had admitted she’d never made it quite as far as her mother’s art studio. It was never locked, the door nearly always open, but she always found an excuse to avoid it.

Now, Kara watched as Nia marked out every item in the room like she was planning an itinerary. Finally, she bit her lip, heading over to the closest wardrobe before pulling it open.

The doors shuddered and groaned on old hinges, the smell of mothballs invading the air, but Nia didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she started to card her way through the heavy articles of clothing that hung inside. Some from decades prior, others more modern in shape and cut. On her right, Maeve opened the wardrobe stood nearest to the door, a host of pastel blues and ivory creams packed tightly on the other side.

Neither sister spoke a word to the other, and Kara suddenly felt that bit more of an invader on the whole ritual. Nia had wanted her there as both a peacekeeper and a friend, but her duty was a little blurred around the edges now that she was stood among Isabel’s old things. Kara decided to open one of the boxes on the floor that hadn’t been taped shut to occupy her time, rummaging inside half-heartedly as Nia continued her search.

She combed through her mom’s things carefully, pausing to squeeze or hold a piece at length when it sparked a fond memory. That was the only time she looked halfway comfortable with what she was doing. Kara felt her pain – aside from the data crystals stored in her pod, she hadn’t had anything left of her parents when she’d been sent away, believing them to be dead. If she had, she might have found the same bittersweet peace that was currently stirring Nia’s confliction.

Every so often, Maeve would offer up a possible clothing option from her closet, pulling a jacket or scarf from the hanger for Nia to see. Her wardrobe certainly boasted a colour scheme more fitting for their objective, but every time Nia shot her down. She was clearly looking for something specific, even if she didn’t know what it was she was searching for.

Maeve stopped trying soon after her fifth failed attempt, and the room fell once again into a tense silence only disturbed by the screech of metal hangers on metal rails.

Just as Kara was planning to suggest they break for lunch, Nia gasped sharply from behind her. Kara turned immediately, tense and alert, only to find Nia stood with something clutched tightly to her chest.

It was a long piece of satin fabric with a pearly texture. Simple and without shape, like a scarf or shawl.

But there was nothing simple about the way that Nia was looking at it.

“Nia—what is it?” Maeve asked.

Nia gritted her teeth, shaking her head. “This was stupid,” she muttered. Her arms fell slack, dropping the satin to the ground. “I-I need some air.”

She stormed out before either of them could convince her otherwise, disappearing around the corner. Kara caught Maeve’s eye guardedly.

“I should—” Maeve began.

“No,” Kara said. “Let me.”

Maeve didn’t try to fight her on the subject. Her own eyes were glistening, unable to articulate her thanks.

Kara didn’t wait for one. She gave it five seconds before following out after Nia, locating her heartbeat a little too quickly. It was thudding like crazy, and the fact she’d only made it as far as the stairs only increased the volume of her grief.

“Nia?” Kara asked tentatively. When Nia half turned her head and she saw the tears that had begun streaking down her face, Kara’s chest tightened. “Hey, Nia, Nia, what is it?”

Nia only shook her head, wiping angrily at her cheeks with the edge of her palm. “I shouldn’t have done this, Kara. It was a dumb idea.”

“Nia,” Kara admonished, taking her arm. “It was a good idea. A wonderful one. Look, maybe we should take a break. We could go to that coffee place on the corner, the one you were talking about earlier?”

“No.” Nia rolled her shoulder out of Kara’s grasp, folding her arms. “I mean—no. I don’t need a break. I just—” She blinked quickly, clenching her teeth. “Just—I thought this’d be easier, that being here with all her stuff would make me feel closer to her, make everything clearer.” She snorted. “But it doesn’t and nothing here feels right.”

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not!” Nia spun to face Kara fully, the tears of her frustration still glittering on her jaw. “I came here to find something of my mom’s that I could wear for my wedding day, so why can’t I, Kara? It’s all here, so why—”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Kara instructed, taking Nia’s shoulders before she could back away. This time, Nia didn’t fight her. She stared, chest heaving, cheeks blotched with red, until finally Kara’s words began to sink in. Her lashes fluttered shut and she drew in one long and steady breath, easing it out through her teeth. Kara smiled. “I think you answered your own question. It is all here, there’s a lot to go through, and I don’t just mean your mom’s stuff.” She glanced meaningfully down the hall, giving Nia’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

Nia huffed out a laugh. “Maybe you’re right,” she muttered thickly, before rolling her eyes. “I know you’re right. I just…”

“Take it slow,” Kara said. “There’s no rush, Nia. However long it takes, we will find something. I refuse to leave until we do.”

Nia’s lips crumpled into a smile at her pseudo-serious remark and Kara grinned, winding an arm around her back. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Nia agreed, sniffing into her hand.

After drying her face off with some tissues from the bathroom, Kara guided Nia back to Isabel’s study and right into the expectant gaze of her big sister.

“Everything alright?” Maeve asked immediately, abandoning her search.

Nia nodded quickly, avoiding Maeve’s eyes. “Things just got a little overwhelming.”

“I noticed,” Maeve said with a wry smile. “You were looking at this, right?”

The second Maeve lifted up the offending satin piece, Nia faltered. She set her jaw, biting her lip. “Yeah. It’s just… I guess for a second it reminded me of what mom was wearing in the dream realm. When I—”

“Right,” Maeve said, cutting her off with a pained wince. “Of course. Well… maybe, maybe that’s a sign you should wear it? It’d go well with your dress, right?”

Nia frowned. “You haven’t even seen my dress.”

Maeve gave her a pointed look. “And whose fault is that?”

Nia cringed, taking the shawl from her sister’s hands. She weighed it for a moment, letting the satin slide across her palms before she gripped it more firmly. Eventually, she sighed. “Maybe for the afterparty,” she relented.

Kara caught the unconvinced glimmer in Maeve’s eye when she nodded, turning back towards the wardrobes. “We’ll keep looking.”

On the bright side, the tension that had once weighed the room down didn’t seem quite as present anymore. Instead, Isabel’s studio was flooded with easy chatter. Now, when Nia or Maeve found something that they liked, they’d pause to laugh, nudge the other, and recount the memory that came with it.

“Remember when mom thought this hat looked good?”

“Oh my god, her gardening gloves! I thought the neighbour’s dog stole them years ago!”

“She let me live in this sweater whenever I was sick.”

The stories continued like that for hours and soon, Kara found herself laughing along with them, pointing out atrocious style choices in the mix and begging for the stories behind them. She found she was learning a great deal more about Isabel Nal than she ever had when she’d been alive, and with every memory revisited, a little more of that tension chipped away until it felt like nothing but a bad dream.

The laughter came to an abrupt stop when Nia reached the last item in her mother’s closet. She glanced to Maeve, finding that her sister was in the exact same position. Two wardrobes full of stuff to blow through, and they hadn’t found a single thing she could use.

“Don’t look so down in the dumps,” Maeve said, patting her sister’s arm. “Who said it had to be clothes, anyway? What about…” She stopped in the middle of the room, hands on hips as she scoured the studio. Kara watched as she moved purposefully to the far wall, grabbing one of the larger sheets and tugging it free, revealing the furniture beneath.

Maeve’s face lit up. “Nia--- what about in here.”

Kara stood stunned, staring in amazement at Maeve’s discovery. It was an antique dressing table, an old varnished oak piece with an oval mirror fixed into the headboard and one long drawer fitted underneath.

Nia walked over to it, running her hand across the brass handle before carefully tugging it open. Kara peered over Nia’s shoulder, her eyes widening when she realised what rested inside.

“Oh Rao, they’re beautiful.”

The inside of the drawer was inlaid with a royal blue velvet. Pieces of jewellery had been set delicately into each individual indent. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, all made from bands of pure gold that glittered intermittently with flecks of blue.

“Oh wow, mom’s jewellery collection,” Maeve said from Nia’s other side. She turned to Kara, adding for her benefit: “She brought a lot of them with her from Naltor. Each piece is fitted with a Naltorian gemstone. They’re supposed to help focus the mind and body, offer clarity to those that are lost, and not just for the daughters gifted with the Sight.” She nudged Nia’s arm. “Mom would let us wear them out for special occasions sometimes.”

Nia’s smile was distant, caught far in the past. “I remember,” she said, picking her way across the collection. “College graduation, she told me to choose anything I wanted.” Her hand stilled suddenly, clenching her fingers together. She swallowed hard.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

A scornful smile twitched at Nia’s lips. She glanced up, catching Maeve’s eye through the vanity mirror's reflection. “Except… I never did. I wanted to, really, and it felt right, like I was drawn to these stones somehow. My powers hadn’t even manifested yet, but I was so afraid to pick one, because a part of me knew what it meant, even then.”

Maeve turned away guiltily, unable to match her sister’s glare. The room felt colder, suddenly, and Kara fought the urge to shudder. This wasn’t her fight, nor her place to say anything. Whatever Maeve had to say, she’d be speaking it alone.

“Do you feel drawn to anything now?” Maeve asked, surprising them both with her certainty, as though she wasn’t being held under scrutiny at all.

Nia’s brow furrowed, her expression guarded. “What?”

“Well, do you?”

“I—” Nia shook her head, turning unwillingly back to the jewellery out on display. “I- I don’t know…”

Impulsively, Maeve took her sister’s hand, linking their fingers together. “Don’t think about it,” she scolded, rolling her eyes. “Feel, Nia. Draw from the stones’ clarity. Let that guide you.”

When Nia glanced Kara’s way, she tried to offer her an encouraging smile, even if she was a little lost on what was going on here. She’d seen Naltorian jewellery before, Maeve’s first peace offering to Nia had been the necklace Isabel had given her, but this was different. When Nia closed her eyes and her and Maeve’s joined hands drew a line across the velvet, a band of blue energy erupted from Nia’s bracelet, winding at first around their fingers before misting out into fine tendrils like digits of their own, probing the drawer’s interior as though they were living things.

Kara supposed they were. What was Nia’s energy if not an extension of herself? And if the stones offered clarity, then they were certainly helping with the search now. Nia’s face was set with expert focus, her eyes rolling calmly beneath her lids as she followed the path her powers were chasing. Until, eventually…

“Wait,” Nia said, her eyes snapping open. “What’s that?”

Kara wasn’t sure what Nia was seeing, that was until she picked at one of the rings at the corner of the set, pulling loose a small piece of ribbon that had been tucked beneath it.

“A pull tab?” Maeve asked.

Nia’s frown deepened as she tugged at the ribbon. With it, a whole section of the velvet inset came loose, lifting upward.

Underneath was a small hidden compartment, barely a few inches across. And inside that compartment…

“Oh my god,” Maeve said. “Is that…?”

Cushioned between four edges of black velvet was a brilliantly silver bridal comb with cobalt blue gemstones set into the fixings in a wave-like pattern.

“The Naltorian symbol for union,” Maeve explained, her face pale. “I can’t believe it was here this whole time.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kara murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from it. “Oh, Nia, it’s perfect.”

“It’s mom’s,” Nia said tightly, closing her eyes. “She- she wore it for her wedding, but we thought it was lost. I only ever saw it in pictures, never…” She stopped herself short, reaching out for the comb before lifting it carefully into her hands. It looked ancient and brand new at the same time. Nia handled it delicately, as though afraid it might snap under the slightest provocation.

Maeve’s eyes shimmered, an eager look, a hungry look. “There’s this old Naltorian tradition,” she said slowly, her voice wavering slightly, “the daughter that inherits the Sight is meant to wear something of her matriarchal line on her day of union. Her wedding day. Every family has something different, something personal, but that item will stay in a family for generations. This was mom’s, but it was also our grandmother’s and our great-grandmother before her. It could go back centuries. It does go back centuries.” She lifted her hand, as though to summon it. “Mom once told me it would only find a Dreamer when the time was right.”

Kara watched Maeve warily, monitoring her fascination.

“I didn’t even know that,” Nia muttered, just as Maeve’s hand coasted over it. Nia flinched, clenching her hand across the comb in reflex. She narrowed her eyes at her sister, weighing her intentions, before slowly unfurling her fingers.

Maeve looked at Nia curiously. When Nia nodded, she breathed in, taking the bridal comb from her sister’s hand. She studied it carefully, running her index finger over each individual gemstone, testing it for durability.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Maeve said as she continued to examine the comb. “About Naltor, about… tradition. Mom always thought she’d have more time and I… I didn’t want to share it. I wanted it to be a secret, just between the two of us.”

Nia bared her teeth at that, a bitter scowl as she made to turn away. Before she could, Maeve caught her arm, stilling her little sister so that she could run a hand along her back, winding her fingers into the edges of her long hair. Kara watched as Maeve bunched Nia’s locks together in her free hand, fashioning it into a low hanging ponytail. “Hold still.”

“Maeve,” Nia murmured, but she did as she was told, watching her big sister through the mirror as she slid the bridal comb into place, holding in a way that the wave of blue perfectly melded into the depths of her dark hair.

Maeve marvelled at her handiwork. “Well, look at that. It’s perfect on you.”

“Something borrowed,” Kara said, nodding towards Nia’s reflection. “Something blue.”

Nia choked out a watery laugh, rubbing at her eyes. She probed at the comb, grinning as she felt for it in her hair.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” Maeve said, her reflection fixed solemnly on her sister. “It was selfish and spiteful and never my secret to keep. From now on, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

“It sounds like a lot,” Nia admitted honestly. She folded her arms, tipping back into her sister’s ready embrace. “Maybe you can tell me more about it back in National City? I mean, I still need to show you my dress.”

Maeve’s eyes lit up in surprise. She grinned, nodding her head. “I’d like that.”

“And wait until the whole outfit’s put together,” Kara added excitedly. “Nia, you are going to make one breathtaking bride.”

“Thank you,” Nia mouthed, taking Kara’s hand.

Kara squeezed back gently. “Any time.”

In the end, she supposed her services as social buffer or peacekeeper hadn’t been all that necessary. Her duty as a friend, however? That was a full-time role.

One that she was more than happy to fulfil for the rest of her life.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #nia nal #kara danvers #maeve nal #kara zor el #brainia #my writing #soooooooooo this may or may not be a subtle hint that i'm planning a brainia wedding fic at some point #i was actually going to have this as part of that fic but it sort of got too long to justify so take this as a small taste #this is severely rushed i wanted to get it done before i fell into a super busy week but i hope you like!!

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this-should-do · 2 years

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Losing your identity in favor of survival

#gordon freeman #half life #was thinking about my headcanon on why gordon looses his mullet by hl2 in which he gets grabbed by the ponytail too many times and cuts it #of course in a very emotional manner before he hardens as he goes from gordon to freeman in accordance with my chracterization of him from #my fic which u should go read on ao3 #its called could gordon ever be clean #but yeah looove tying chara dev to hair and having it be so significant that gordon cuts his hair cuz i think he has a complex relationship #w his hair becuz hes so trans #i wont get into it cuz its kinda long but trust me its good #fun fact to get the subtle static texture u can barely see i used the sonic . exe static lol #eyestrain tw #<just in case these colors are kinda bright #anyways i love really messy haircuts cuz theyre having a breakdown and using a knife. it feels like in movies their hair always looks good #which is WRONG it would not look good like that u rlying to me #idoindeeddraw #anyways feeling artsy with the caption today lol #but thats like the theme of this comic and i wanted to ensure it was understood lol

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xenon-demon · 1 year

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I fucking love pretty much every version of the “celebrity x Just Some Guy™” trope that there is for Steddie, but in honor of having a totally reasonable amount of wine I’m going to tell you about the version I’m currently thinking about all the time, one of my dumbest yet also funniest AU concepts: modern!AU with streamers Steve & Robin and Hardcore Fan™ Eddie who writes reader-insert fic about Steve.

Steve and Robin, aka EvenStevens and BirdBox_ on Twitch (“My name is spelled with a P-H, Robin, that’s such a stupid name.” “No, it’s actually even better this way! You don’t want to just use your real government name for something like this, and you would just make your username ‘SteveHarrington01′ or something equally uninspired-”) frequently stream together and have a shared YouTube channel. They got popular doing reaction videos that quickly devolve into the pair of them bickering on camera, and since the internet just loves the ‘snarky woman and her emotional support himbo’ dynamic, they got very big, very quick. Plus, it certainly doesn’t hurt that they had the combined might of Dustin and Erica to help them bend the algorithm to their whims.

While most people recognize their platonic-with-a-capital-P soulmatism, there are still some that are convinced they’re secretly dating - they can’t decide if it’s hilarious or absolutely maddening that every time they try to disprove the rumors, they somehow get stronger. Robin doesn’t feel comfortable coming out to the internet yet, and without that trump card some people just can’t understand why they’re not dating.

...there are other sections of their fandom, however, that absolutely do believe they’re not dating. Mainly because they’d rather be dating Steve or Robin (or both!) themselves, and write all the reader-insert fanfiction you could ever possibly need about it. Robin is largely ambivalent to the concept of fanfiction being written about herself as long as they’re not writing smut, since at least that way they’re not insisting she’s dating Steve.

Steve on the other hand finds it absolutely hilarious how despite how much he’s changed, he’s back to being the heartthrob he used to be in high school - and, he’ll be honest, he thrives on the attention. He’s given everyone the green light to write whatever they want - dared them to make it raunchier, even - to the point where it’s a running joke that Steve will read your reader-insert fanfiction about him unless you tag it with some form of ‘Steve don’t look’. He even used the prevalence of fic about himself to come out on stream.

(Steve’s in the middle of re-organizing his flower field in Animal Crossing when he’s interrupted by a donation. “Hey Steve, really sorry to tell you this but people are writing porn about you... and they’re making it gay. Like writing about you getting fucked by a dude. Just wanted you to know so you can say something about it.”

Steve stops dead, his screen freezing on his open inventory. “Hey, uh, why the fuck would I have a problem about a fictional version of me bottoming? Or- wait, do I seriously give off homophobic vibes? I’m literally bisexual. Hey Dustin, can you ban that guy please? Christ, the nerve of some people. If that’s how you feel about people being gay, or about people writing things that I’ve already said I have no problem with, you can leave this stream right now because I don’t want you here.“)

Many people lost their minds after that stream, one of them being popular tumblr blog whorefireclub.

Eddie didn’t plan on starting a tumblr blog for self-insert fanfiction about a twitch streamer. Really he didn’t, and every time he thinks about it in terms that plain he kind of dies a little on the inside. It’s really all Gareth’s fault, for getting fed up with Eddie’s dumb parasocial crush on a streamer and daring him to just “get it out of his system already”. So, using a bare-bones anonymous tumblr and many, many beers as his cover story, Eddie posted some of the most quickly written and unedited pieces of writing he’s ever produced in his life.

Except he wrote it with an AMAB reader character - and for those of you unfamiliar with the reader-insert sphere, that’s like fucking hen’s teeth. People are pretty good at making things gender neutral at least in their descriptions, and sometimes the anatomy is vague enough that it’s ambiguous, but the majority is written with AFAB genitalia for the reader character.

Eddie’s little drunken post blows up, and at first, he’s never regretted a life choice more.

After thinking about it, and seeing just how many people left comments with their reblogs or came into his askbox directly to thank him for giving them the representation they wanted, he starts to feel a bit better about the whole thing. In fact, it kind of tickles his “protector of the outcasts” instincts; there are people who can’t enjoy the content they want to because it doesn’t gel with their anatomy or gender identity. Eddie could, hypothetically, if he wanted to be absolutely insane about this one hot streamer guy, help fix that problem somewhat.

A couple of months later and he’s become “the guy who writes inclusive reader-insert fic”. While a fair amount of his work is gender-ambiguous, both in anatomy and in avoiding gendered language, more than half is written for anyone who finds themselves underrepresented in the usual reader-insert scene; anyone AMAB, AFAB people who can’t do female language, he’s even written a few oneshots with intersex reader characters. He did research for it and everything. It’s certainly not how he planned for this to work out, but it’s actually kind of... nice. He’d written a lot of fanfiction in his youth, mainly about Lord of the Rings and Star Trek, and while this isn’t how he’d imagined returning to the hobby it’s actually really fun. (It’s making his celebrity crush on Steve a million times worse, of course, but he’s in denial about that so it’s totally fine.)

He’s a little shit, so his blog header has - underneath his personal details - a PSA that reads “Steve, don’t look at this unless you have the balls to shout me out on stream ;)”. Eddie thinks he’s absolutely hilarious.

Right up until he wakes up to find his following has exploded overnight, and upon checking his DMs from his mutuals realizes that - oh shit - that bastard actually did it and talked about his blog on stream.

And Steve said he liked it. Steve likes the porn that Eddie wrote about him. Jesus H. Christ, Eddie is so unfathomably fucked.

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if this were to exist as a fic it would be told through social media posts/DMs. one of those fics that uses unconventional (i.e. non-prose) formatting, you know the ones. the concept actually came from the fact I fucking LOVE fics like that, I’m a slut for any of that House of Leaves-type shit. one time I read a fic that consisted of 8 short stories and each one had a HTML puzzle you had to solve to be able to read it, e.g. one you had to highlight because the text was in white, another you needed to hover your mouse over to make it scroll through the text - I can’t remember the rest but it was SO COOL.

(or, to put this another way, I read homestuck at a formative age and it forever changed how I feel about formatting stories.)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie au #stranger things #charlie writes things #streamer au #streamer!steve harrington #writer!eddie munson #this is such a dumb au but i think it's so funny #eddie and steve flirting with each other via reader-insert fic that gets less and less subtle #steve has a secret fan account btw because of course he does #and he's always reblogging eddie's stuff and saying how hot it is/how much he likes it #also the pinned post on eddie's blog is him yelling at an anon for coming to him and asking why he doesn't ship stobin #HEY MAYBE WE WON'T DO SOMETHING THE CREATORS HAVE REPEATEDLY SAID THEY DON'T LIKE? AND MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE? HOW ABOUT THAT?#<-- is what eddie's response boiled down to

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pookielious · 10 days

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Hold Me Closer

eugene roe x babe heffron

☆

It had been only a few hours since gene had patched heffron up, they where still at the line, planning to move forward into a small town in attempts to gain more territory. Bastogne was in ruins, the bodies left in the ruins of the town where far to dangerous to get out right now, but Bastogne was still used as a aid station it was the best they could do till another supply drop would come , hopefully in the near future.

It had been a relatively quiet day at least for the front, some firing here and there but nothing easy company hadn't seen before

"So where'd you get this auh?" Heffron spoke up finally , looking at the stripped blue fabric of his make shift bandage "Kraut drop it or sumn'thin?",

"No" gene answered tiredly "found it in bastogne— when we took Gordon I think" he said, his eyes on his hands, beat up and stained with dried blood

"I heard you tellin' winters about bastogne, is it really that bad there?" Heffron question, shifting a bit to but his hands in his pockets

"Its in ruins ," he answered honestly " they bombed the whole thing" he stared off at his hands , picking at the blood under his finger nails as he reimagined the scene of it all, fires and the cracking sound of the wood houses giving "nothin' left but they're still taking wounded men there"

"Gave us a merry Christmas " babe retorted sarcastically, Renée is all that Eugene thought about , for chrismas they'd taken her away, his chrismas gift was all that was left of her. A scarf. "Right" Eugene said in reply so much for a christmas

" 'ey Gene?"

"Hm?" He hummed glancing red at the redhead

"Merry christmas " babe smiled softly

" merry chrismas heffron"

Babe laughed a little laying back in the fox hole "are you ever gonna stop with the 'heffron' shit?" He questioned

"Probably not" he said truthfully, he didn't fancy calling people by their nick names, it just made things alot easier at least in his mind. just as babe opened his mouth to talk the two heard a shot then strangely enough a splash the two looked at eachother confusedlt; gene straightened up and babe grabbed his gun, crouching and looking over at the line, nothing ?

"Medic !" A familiar voice called out

The two waited a second

"Doc!" The same voice called out

"Was that a sniper?" Babe said confusedly looking at Eugene who stood up from his crouching position "I don't know"

"Go! Com'on" heffron said quickly peeking over the foxhole at the line , he figured it was just a sniper or somthing he saw no other shots or any sort of flashing and Gene complied getting out of the hole and running to where the same voice called him

A he was close to the line he knew that, there was a short drop down a small hill he hadn't seen and he practically rolled down it

"Doc !? You okay?!" A voice yelled out, different than the one before , joe toye he figured out "im fine!" Gene continued and stood up , making his way towards toye again as he saw another figure and half of another one , he would've paused if it wasn't for the adrenaline rushing through his body from the fall and the sniper "What's going on—" the ground shook and the sky flashed "wouldya get me out!" Luz , who was the half body gene had seen yelled "yer gonna get me shot!" The man shivered, flopping like a fish to try and wiggle himself out if the water, it was a almost humorous to watch

due to the shock to his muscles and the weight of his gear it was a useless effort Gene looked confusedly, he was half submerged in a now ,leibgott, who had been the 3rd figure gene had saw was trying to left him out

The 3 managed to get him out without getting shot, he was drenched he had been fully submerged for only a few seconds but he'd been in the water for a good minute, enough time partnered with the cold it was good enough to get him a bad case of hypothermia "toye go get a jeep! And some blankets, towels, anything we need to get him dry !" Toye nodded and ran off ahead of the two, leibgott and gene carried Luz who had started shivering violently

Once they got back up to the company they set Luz down and started getting all of his gear and top layers of clothes off "ain't that gonna make him more cold?!" Liebgott questioned rather loudly "he's gon' freeze to death if we dont!"

Toye came back running with a blanket , nearly tripping over someone's fox hole and a few sticks and the ground that where to be used as camouflage for the foxholes "dry him off quickly!" Gene ordered and the 3 started to rub him off rather aggressively with the cover, gene knew they couldn't have a fire for them nor would he be able to start of quick enough with wet hands, he stood up, ripping the medic arm band off of his jacket that was held on with some strategic sewing and mostly safety pins and stuffed the syrettes and morphine into his back before also taking that off, he then unzipped his jacket and knelt back down with the help of leibgott he got it onto Luz "awh– d-oc youre-" where the only words Luz could get out

The jeep pulled up with in seeing distance and the 3 got up , picking Luz back up again "don't you worry about me" gene insisted, gene let go of Luz and grabbed his sopping wet equipment, placing them in the passenger seat foot rests of the jeep "toye, go with him make sure they get him inside of somewhere, broken building or anything that'll get him protected from the wind, ya here?" Toye nodded and hopped into the passenger seat at as jeep sped away.

At first the feeling of cold hadn't him, he'd noticed the strange looks he'd gotten from most of 2nd battalion he'd saw as he ran around , bandaging wounds, mostly accidental ones from being scared by the sudden shoots but after the adrenaline had finally wore off it came at him hard, gene really wasn't made t handle the cold all that much, Louisiana was a much more hotter climent then western Europe . he made is rounds, checking up on everyone else incase he'd missed anything or to hear if they needed anything as usual , buck had taken a notice as gene stopped at his foxhole

"Where your jacket?" Buck started, looking up at him as he ate a makeshift snowcone with the powered lemonade that was common amongst the soliders

"With George Luz sir" gene managed, crouched next to the foxhole, holding himself to keep some warmth

"Luz?" buck questioned, the confusion plastered is normally plain expression, dancing around in his ice blue eyes "Why does Luz have it?"

"Needed it more then me, " gene continued "Germans lured toye 'n him with some supplies — they ain't notice it was over some frozin' over lake" he shifted slightly, he knew he needed to stay moving in order to lessen the feeling of cold "liebgott tried to get them outta there but snipe cracked the ice, Luz fell right in"

Buck sighed softly "right" the blonde nodded, thinking for a moment " check with Nixon and winters they're probably hanging about , see if they can do anything for you"

Gene simply nodded and stood up, continuing his arounds

He hasn't managed to spot nixon or winters, they always went around in a pair so he doubted he'd find just one of them sitting around, he got back to his foxhole and jumped in, curling up in it as he shivered helplessly. the cold stung his arms and there was nothing he could do about it

"Woah there" he heard the familiar Philadelphian accent of Edward "correct me if I'm wrong doc but I 'on think stripping is gonna keep you all that warm"

"Real Perceptive heffron" he spoke through his shivering

"What happened?" Heffron hopped into the hole, putting his gun down along with his helmet

"Luz fell into a lake, gave it to him" gene summarized to save from explaining for the 3rd time that day

"Here," heffron took off his scarf and crawled on his knees closer to the medic, wrapping the scarf around his neck and part of his face "my grandma used to wrap me up like his" heffron tucked the end of the scarf back into itself so it wouldn't come loose and unwrapped

"Never needed to be wrapped like this before"

"Your from the south right?"

Gene nodded "Louisiana, bayou chou"

"Ever fought a croc? Yall got those down there yeah?"

"Not dumb enough to so no— I used to see'em alot when I was younger, my grandfather wrestled one right infront of me once"

"I saw one in the zoo once" there wasn't any crazy wild animals in Philadelphia, it was a major city after all, nothing crazy like the costal states like Louisiana "had–" he laughed a little " had a pigeon trynna steal my cheese steak one time, never fought somthing harder in my life"

Gene smiled a bit at the sheer image Of Edward trying to fight a pigeon off

Heffron stood up half way peering over edge of the foxhole "aye' garnere?"

"Aeh?" The man hummed, peaking up from his hole

"Ya Got a blanket? Docs cold"

There was A brief pause as Bill presumably looked around "yeah" Bill said , balling up the blanket and throwing it over to heffron"thanks" the other said as he caught the blanket

He looked down at gene, he looked pitiful ,his nose and cheeks where a rosy pink color while the rest of him had palen more then usual, his teeth chattering so hard he could hear it, heffron knelt back down again and wrapped him in the blanket "how about we get you into town doc?" Heffron offered, putting his hands on genes shoulders above the blankets and rubbing the to make some sort of heat with the friction

"I have to stay on the line, case of anymore of those bombs " the southerner sighed softly , holding the blanket shut with his hands

"Right" heffron bit his lip , there wasn't many ways to stay warm in the front lines, especially without all of the promised snow gear that hadn't gotten to them yet, much less without at least a jacket but just then a idea popped in his head

He gently took oneside of the blanket and sat next to gene, closing the blanket with the hand and wrapping his other around the medic "whatdya' doing?" Gene asked quietly "keeping you warm— somone aughta do it " the ginger smiled proudly , gently rubbing Eugene side with his ungloved hand , Eugene simply accepted his fate, there wasn't much else he could do if he wanted to avoid frost bite, gene tiredly leaned against heffron , resting his head on his shoulder

The two stayed like that for a while, Essentially cuddled up as the sun started to lower more, there hadn't been any attacks since Luzs , gene had figured this meant the the Germans had turnt in for the holiday, the chrismas joy had carried throughout the line, the sounds of singing and laughing was heard throughout the camp, much to the dismay of those trying to keep the group of loudmouthed men quiet, the singing had lowered but hadn't came to a complete stop, the sheer chrismas cheer seemed to have made the Lieutenants and commanders let it slide just this once, for the morale of the soldiers

Edward and Eugene had been half asleep in their foxhole, babes idea of warming him up had worked somewhat, it had managed to warm him up to enough to stop the teeth chattering, it wasnt to the same effect as having a jacket on but it was relieving enough to keep him from hypothermia

"Thanks babe" gene finally spoke

The words made the ginger grin ear to ear

"Course' genie"

"Genie, huh" Eugene closed his eyes

"Could be eugina or sumn' if you prefer" babe joked, gently stroking genes side

"No, I like that"

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