#headcanon tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jewishrat420 · 3 months

Text

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #absolutely no idea where this came from #but it's here #first kiss #mutual pining #flirting #steddie first kiss #teasing #steve harrington is down bad #eddie munson is down equally bad #idk how to tag things

3K notes · View notes

that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 3 months

Text

Remember that one time Merlin called Arthur a toad then said magic was outlawed so he’d never turn into a handsome prince?

What if he kept doing that casually, as his way of showing Arthur magic can be useful.

For example:

Arthur: do you ever wish there was a way to start fires without needing to gather firewood?

Merlin: there is. Your father outlawed it.

Arthur: there must’ve been a reason. Fire can be dangerous if it gets out of control.

—

And he tries to defend it, but it doesn’t hold up and over time Arthur starts just making sarcastic comments instead of actual defenses

—

Arthur: torches are so inconvenient. We need a better way to make light that can keep hands free for swords or other weapons.

Merlin: Magic, but it’s illegal so you’re stuck with carrying a torch.

Arthur: last time I needed light because you were dying it wasn’t evil.

Merlin: well, it’s unfortunate that you don’t know how to use magic then, sire.

—

Until he just can’t defend it

—

Arthur: six weeks?! I can’t miss six weeks of training for a broken foot! Is there some way to speed it up? Or just… fix it now?

Gaius: I don’t think-

Merlin: yes.

Gaius, who knows Merlin’s plan: *sigh*

Arthur: Thank god. Do it then.

Merlin: No. It’ll land us all on the pyre and I’m quite fond of, y’know, breathing, so suck it up.

Arthur: why is that kind of magic illegal? Surely healing isn’t evil.

Gaius: what you ask is treason, sire. Please be cautious.

Arthur: …

—

Merlin: who knows? Maybe all the bandits will decide to magically take a day off so you can go hunting without being hunted.

A few hours later, being chased through the woods by bandits:

Arthur: non magic sucks!

Merlin: yep. You can always repeal the ban once you’re king!

Arthur: huh… you know, I think I will.

Merlin: great, pardon my treason then. *magically knocks out the bandits and summons their horses and Arthur’s weapons back*

Arthur: THIS WHOLE TIME?!

Merlin: yep.

Arthur: …

Arthur: I can’t believe that worked.

Merlin: me neither, to be honest, sire.

—

Then they both laugh about it and Arthur repeals the ban, magic is free, Morgana is never evil, Agravaine doesn’t exist, and Mordred comes back to Camelot and gets therapy.

#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #merlin #merthur #incorrect merlin quotes #headcanon #i’m bad at tagging #gaius merlin

3K notes · View notes

jetpack · 1 year

Text

The blade is imbued with great power. I can feel it course through my hands as I unsheathe it. I do not know if I can sate its hunger. Read more on my blog.

#with great power #comes great...#hunger?#power?#bloodshed?#writing?#fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #sword #jetpack mobile #don't mess with me #read my blog #click the button #tag #tags

18K notes · View notes

8-0mph · 5 months

Text

pt 1

#Forbidden Dream AU #adventure time #fionna and cake #au #headcanon #prismo the wishmaster #betty grof #simon petrikov #prismo #scarab #petrigrof #prisbetty #I dont ship that one but i claim this tag #golbetty #comic

3K notes · View notes

isabel-lillah · 20 days

Text

Barty and James becoming besties after James and Reggie got together is an iconic thing to happen

especially at the point when really only the skittles know about the relationship, so noone has a clue that Barty and James are a duo

and then when they're seen helping each other with an injury half of Hogwarts loses their shit (because come on, Barty? and James?? being friends???)

the other half doesn't believe it until they see James dragging Barty away from a fight so he wouldn't get a detention and Barty actually letting him do so

meanwhile Sirius is having a stroke trying to figure out when the hell did James befriended Barty Crouch Jr. of all people

2K notes · View notes

flickering-nightfall · 1 month

Text

Playing with some ideas mostly regarding gender/reproduction in RW, and slugcat colonies.

Full transcript under the cut!

Creatures in Rain World are typically simultaneous hermaphrodites but require partners to reproduce, with either individual capable of being a genetic donor or carrier. Alongside what we are familiar with, this has lead to interesting reproductive strategies such as rotating donor/carrier roles, or dual/simultaneous genetic swaps.

Rotating donor/carrier roles - A K-selection reproductive strategy. One partner carries the first child, the other partner carries the next child, and so forth. Allows each partner to recover from the demands of childbearing.

Rain Deer aren't quite monogamous, but they tend to choose the same breeding partner whenever mating season rolls around. They serve as a donor one season, then bear and raise a child the next. Calves are raised away from the rain and worm grass, in places that have less food but more safety. Calf wool is softer, not yet gunked up by the dirty rainfall. Their legs are sturdier as children, allowing them to run for cover while the parent wards off threats.

Dual/simultaneous genetic swap - An r-selection reproductive strategy. Parents fulfill the donor and carrier role for each other. The more children you make, the more likely some are to survive!

Multiple batflies lay thousands of eggs in a single "blue fruit." Several eggs congeal and become nutrient paste for the surviving eggs (and for hungry slugcats). Like some plant seeds, batfly eggs that are consumed before pupating can survive passing through the digestive system. Ew.

Ancients also fell under this umbrella. Their genders (and the genders of iterators by extension, who have no sex anyways) could have been determined by a variety of other factors, such as societal role, donor/carrier preference, or simply different categorizations of personal expression.

It's difficult to say how well their common pronouns would translate to ours, but it seems they can translate to an extent, given what Moon and Pebbles use canonically.

Slugcats, like real slugs, can have children with a partner or self-fertilize. Unlike real slugs, they are often known to adopt.

In the case of self-fertilization: children who are born from one parent may display a large amount of genetic diversity despite the circumstances. Maybe slugcats have some sort of... genetic reservoir independent of their own genetic code?

Slugcats live 20-30 years on average... if they manage to reach adulthood. Their mortality rate is sadly rather high, especially in pups. If they were to develop as a civilization, it's likely their lifespan would increase dramatically.

Slugcats in a colony are more likely to have more children, and to successfully rear those children to adulthood, than those who wander alone or in small groups. The safety and stability of a colony cannot be understated.

Colonies either have a set, cycling migration path, or wander continuously. Survivor and Monk's tree home was a nesting site that their colony frequents about once a year. So it's likely that they'll see their family again!

...also, the strength of large colonies are why scavengers are likely to become the dominant species. In the time of Saint's era, continuous migration has become more of a risk, and it has become more difficult to support large populations. Slugcat populations have shrunk back to the more forgiving equatorial zones.

Saint's tongue is pretty unusual and probably unique to them, or to a small population that they hail from. Fur (of varying thickness) is much more common.

Meanwhile, scavengers are bulkier and covered in thicker insulating fur. They:

have seemingly massive populations

have a burgeoning society (the existence of merchants, tolls, bartering, elites and leaders)

are adept at communicating (non-verbally)

manipulate their environment

can build structures (scavenger-made structures were a scrapped idea from Saint's campaign)

can create complex weapons and tools

may have agriculture behind the scenes (unsure if scout parties prioritize exploration or hunting)

I would wager on scavengers developing more quickly than slugcats, but it would be nice if there was a future where both could co-exist.

#oops! impromptu rendering practice!#rotating donor/carrier roles could also be an r-selection strat #but i feel like it'd be more common as a k-selection strat #rain world #worldbuilding #headcanons #flickerdoodles #art #um #ask to tag?#that goes for all of my posts #rw spoilers #dp spoilers #saint spoilers #long post

2K notes · View notes

pyralart · 8 months

Text

I don't think Belos is taking it very well

First part (You are here) >> Next Part

First batch of this little series, inspired by @petitprincess1's idea! I couldn't get this scenario out of my head so of course I drew it.

Get ready because it will have at least 8 pages! Probably my longest comic yet

There will be some angst but the violence will overall be canon-typical!

#the owl house #the owl house spoilers #toh #toh fanart #toh comic #luz noceda #emperor belos #philip wittebane #pyralart #Sooooo many backgrounds in those pages oh my god #Back to the Human Realm #<-- Guess that'll be my tag for it I just came up with it #Also it's my personal headcanon that The Collector would speak with emojis sorry not sorry it's too funny and fitting to me #Little ipad kid and his stars and moon emojis <3 #I need to do more with the collector too I love them #ok ok enough rambling #thanks for reading <3 I love u

4K notes · View notes

horse-head-farms · 4 months

Text

🪼slime-kisser Follow

all these posts like “don’t shop at boatem they support cannibalism” “the evil empire is a crypto scam” “don’t buy at octagon they’re trying to destroy the fabric of the universe” where the FUCK else am I supposed to shop????

🐠xbcrafted Follow

may i recommend horse head farms? we sell a variety items for agreeable prices and have alternate payment plans which mean you don’t have to spend a single diamond! you can find us via the nether hub <3

🪲yeswingsforlife Follow

do NOT shop at Horse Head Farms! Their items are incredibly overpriced (you can find grass, logs, etc for better prices) and this “alternative payment scheme” is actually signing an IOU. If you don’t know what that is, IOU stands for “I Owe You” and is a legal document that, when possessed, someone can force you to do anything. Literally anything. LegalKnight does a great video going into detail about it. According to this article, Horse Head Farms have just invested in building an auction house, possibly to sell off the IOUs they’ve acquired, so scummy CEOs could force you to work at their companies. Not to mention, their owners are incredibly sketchy, xBCrafted regularly tweets conspiracy theories and Hypnotizd invests in crypto

😵‍💫hypnotizd Follow

youre wrong actually, i have had nothing but brilliant service at Horse Head Farms. IOUs arent sketchy theyre normal pieces of paper. #shoptoday

🪲yeswingsforlife Follow

… you’re literally one of the owners

🐸cottagecoreliving Follow

to answer the original question, here’s a list of more reputable businesses that you can support instead!

Tays Trees

HIVE-DR8

Joe Hills’ Flower Stalls

Big Eyes

🥚dragon-tegg Follow

hey not to derail this post or anything but is anyone going to mention how OP literally fetishises slime hybrids???