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duskyashe · 1 year

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NaNoWriMo Day #14

[masterlist] [part one]

Trigger warning: depiction of a dissociative episode, misconception concerning the sentience and sapience of a being. Warning for Jason's language and use is Zalgo text

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Jason was... Well, he was a lot of things, but terrified was near the top of the list. He'd seen and experienced a lot of crazy shit since trying to steal the tires off the batmobile, including his own death and revival, but having control of his body forcefully taken from him by what he could only assume was the Lazarus Pit was by far the most insane and terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. Not even the Joker had made him feel this hopeless, he'd still been able to run his mouth then, but this? This was like sitting in the driver's seat of a high-tech hyper realistic RC car, frantically stepping on all the pedals, pressing all the buttons, flicking all the switches, and trying with all your might to crank the steering wheel, and all of it doing jack shit. You're stuck watching out the windshield as the car goes flying across the haphazard track, your seatbelt is locked, the doors don't even open from the inside, and nothing you do makes a damn difference as someone else takes you for a joyride.

Of course, he's the fucking Red Hood, he wasn't gonna let the Pit just do whatever the fuck it wants, hell no! He'd successfully fought the thing off during the height of his pit madness and homicidal tendencies, there was no fucking way he was gonna let the Pit use him to murder a kid!

"W̸e̷ ̴d̷o̴ ̵n̵o̵t̷ ̵m̸u̵r̷d̴e̵r̶ ̵c̵h̴i̸l̸d̶r̷e̵n̶!̷" Came a voice from inside his head. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard, like a gestalt of different voices from all different walks of life. Time seemed to be endlessly slow as he/it/they screeched a war cry and took off.

"Oh yeah? Why the fuck are we charging the kid, then?!" Jason yelled back. It was weird, his voice was both echoey and soundless at the same time. He didn't like it.

"H̸e̶ ̴i̵s̶ ̴c̶h̴i̷l̷d̶/̸i̶n̶f̴a̸n̴t̵/̵l̸o̴n̴e̷l̴y̷/̴k̷i̸n̸g̷.̵ ̵H̴e̴ ̶i̷s̴ ̶U̸n̵C̸l̶a̵i̸m̸e̶d̶.̶ ̵H̴e̶ ̸i̶s̶ ̵O̶u̵r̷s̷ ̸n̵o̷w̴.̴" As the Pit said that, Jason watched through green tinted vision as the Pit disarmed the goon, extracted the kid, and outright threw the goon into the wall to the side of them. As soon as the goon was out of the way, the Pit adjusted the kid so they were cradling him, and suddenly Jason was drowning in overwhelmingly foreign feelings of comfort/safety/claimed/calm/peace/safe as distinctly nonhuman sounds came from their mouth.

He'd like to say he'd managed to claw his way out from under the flood of emotion by himself, but that'd be a lie, and he tried not to lie to himself too often. It was the sound of a sudden, sharp, almost adorable little frustrated chirp the kid let out that let him breach the surface and actually think again. "What the hell was that?" Jason asked. If his consciousness needed to breathe, he'd be gasping right about then.

"H̴e̷ ̸w̵a̶s̷ ̵p̶a̵n̵i̷c̵k̶i̷n̵g̵.̶ ̵W̵e̸ ̴r̶e̸s̵p̵o̷n̵d̶e̸d̴ ̴a̵p̶p̶r̶o̶p̴r̸i̶a̷t̵e̷l̵y̵.̸ ̷W̸e̷ ̸a̸p̷o̶l̸o̶g̵i̶z̶e̴ ̶f̷o̵r̷ ̷s̸m̴o̴t̴h̸e̵r̵i̷n̷g̸ ̴a̶ ̶p̴a̷r̸t̷ ̵o̸f̴ ̸U̴s̷.̵" The Pit sounded genuinely apologetic, but he wasn't sure he trusted it. Their head turned and Jason saw the rest of the Bats arrayed in wary stances, with Damian taking the lead. He said something about wanting to check on the kid in their arms, but that they could keep hold of him. He could see how much B wanted to protest that, but a sharp gesture from the kid silenced that Bat. "W̴e̴ ̵d̸o̵ ̷n̶o̶t̶ ̷k̷n̵o̷w̷ ̶t̵h̸e̸ ̶o̷n̷e̶s̵ ̶b̵e̶h̶i̴n̶d̷ ̴u̵s̵.̴ ̸A̸ ̶p̵a̶r̵t̴ ̷o̸f̴ ̶U̴s̸ ̵d̷o̵e̴s̶.̸ ̷C̶a̷n̷ ̷W̴e̷ ̷t̸r̶u̶s̵t̸ ̴O̵u̶r̷s̶ ̴w̵i̴t̸h̵ ̴t̸h̵e̴m̵?̸"

Jason thought about the question for a bit. He was fairly certain, as long as Damian was the one taking the lead, they'd be fine. Since Bruce was letting the kid take point, Tim was more likely to follow along, and Dick would only jump the gun if the kid looked injured or terrified out of his mind, which he was neither. In fact, the kid was making some of the cutest fucking noises he'd ever heard, nevermind they didn't have any right coming from a very human looking kid. "We should be good, so long as the baby bird is in control, he seems to grasp the situation better than the rest," he finally replied.

"V̶e̸r̴y̸ ̵w̵e̴l̸l̶.̸ ̸W̶e̸ ̸w̷i̶l̴l̷ ̴t̵r̵u̷s̶t̷ ̷t̷h̵e̵ ̶B̸a̴b̵y̶ ̶B̵i̶r̶d̵,̵ ̶a̸s̷ ̴p̶a̶r̵t̵ ̷o̶f̷ ̸U̶s̴ ̵c̶a̸l̴l̴s̵ ̶H̷i̵m̶.̸" They slowly turned around, the kid held protectively within their arms, though visible enough for the Bats to be able to determine he was okay.

They all stared at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Jason was getting ready to make a sarcastic comment about the stalemate when the kid spoke up. "Hey, so, uh, I'm Danny, it's nice to meet you all."

Oh shit. How could a teenager be so adorable? "I have never thought of a kid as adorable, what the fuck?"

"H̴e̴ ̷i̵s̷ ̸O̵u̶r̸s̵.̵ ̶H̵e̴ ̶i̸s̶ ̶C̶l̷a̶i̴m̶e̵d̷ ̷b̵y̸ ̵U̴s̶.̴ ̵H̵e̶ ̶w̶i̴l̸l̶ ̶a̶l̷w̸a̷y̸s̶ ̶b̸e̴ ̷a̴d̶o̴r̷a̶b̸l̵e̵ ̷t̵o̶ ̶U̸s̴,̸ ̵e̴v̴e̵n̷ ̶t̶o̶ ̴a̷ ̵p̴a̶r̸t̸ ̷o̷f̴ ̵U̸s̸ ̵t̸h̵a̵t̸ ̸i̷s̶ ̷n̵o̶t̴ ̶o̷f̷ ̶U̶s̴.̴"

Wait. "Did you adopt him? What if he has parents! We can't just adopt random kids!"

"W̴e̶ ̵d̶i̴d̴ ̶n̴o̶t̶ ̷s̴e̵e̸ ̷a̸n̴y̷ ̴P̶a̴r̶e̶n̷t̸s̴.̴ ̷W̴e̵ ̸o̸n̷l̷y̷ ̴s̵a̷w̷ ̷H̶i̸m̴.̶ ̶H̵e̶ ̴w̴a̴s̴ ̴U̵n̴C̷l̸a̷i̸m̵e̴d̸,̵ ̷n̷o̷w̵ ̶H̸e̵ ̷i̶s̵ ̸C̶l̷a̴i̷m̸e̸d̶.̷ ̶I̷t̵ ̵i̵s̷ ̴f̴a̴i̵r̶.̶" The Pit was being far too cheeky. It was like the Pit was saying "finders keepers losers weepers". Jason... Wasn't sure how he felt about that, honestly. "A̷n̷d̸ ̷H̸e̵ ̷i̸s̷ ̴n̵o̴t̴ ̴r̷a̴n̶d̶o̴m̴.̸ ̶H̴e̷ ̷i̶s̵ ̸k̸i̸n̷g̵.̶"

Wait, wait, nope, he had to have heard that wrong. "Hold the fucking phone, are you saying he's some kind of royalty? Of what government? His accent sounds Midwestern!"

"H̸e̵ ̷i̴s̴ ̶H̷i̶g̷h̵ ̴K̷i̴n̸g̶ ̸o̶f̷ ̵t̶h̸e̶ ̴I̴n̶f̷i̶n̵i̶t̷e̴ ̶R̴e̶a̸l̶m̸s̷.̵ ̶H̷e̷ ̸i̵s̵ ̴G̵h̵o̴s̵t̸ ̸K̴i̶n̴g̴.̶" The tone with which the Pit spoke of Danny was complicated, though pride and seriousness were prominent. "H̵e̸ ̴i̵s̷ ̴O̶u̵r̶s̶ ̷a̵s̶ ̸W̷e̸ ̴a̴r̴e̷ ̸H̶i̶s̷.̸"

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"Hey, so, uh, I'm Danny, it's nice to meet you all."

The teen in Jason's the Pit creature's arms was remarkably calm, in Damian's opinion. He'd seen many people bathe in the Lazarus Pit come back not right, not themselves, enough to have an idea of how to handle this thing that took his brother's body as its own. Admittedly, this creature was among the most tame he'd ever seen or heard of, though, he never thought someone could become a Pit creature years after bathing in the Pit's waters, either, so perhaps that wasn't saying much.

Damian refocused and gave the older teen a small smile. "Hello, Danny, are you alright? You've had a rather stressful day, haven't you?" He needed to figure out a way to get Danny away from the Pit creature without provoking it. He had no idea how long it would stay reasonable and he didn't want to chance Danny getting hurt by what was once his brother.

Danny let out a snort. That... Wasn't the response he was expecting. "Honestly, the past week was significantly worse, this was nothing. This was almost expected, honestly. No, yeah, I'm doing pretty well now that Goony McGoonface over there isn't trying to use me as a meat shield anymore." The creature let out a short screech, and Danny glanced up at it, face contemplative, almost confused for a second, before understanding flashed across his features. He then let out a few chirps that, to Damian, sounded almost like he was asking for clarification for something. The creature responded with a trill and a few chirps of its own. Danny nodded and turned to look back at Damian with a slightly apologetic expression. "Um, he said you can come closer, Robin. He trusts you not to hurt me, but the others will have to stay back for now. Something about you being vouched for? I guess?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that, but Damian could work with this. He nodded before either of his brothers could argue, silently grateful his father was following his lead like he'd asked. "Thank you for passing along the message, I will gladly take you up on that. How close may I get?"

Danny turned to the creature again as it tilted its head in thought before chirping something at Danny that caused his eyes to widen. Danny trilled a question back, the mental impression of a disbelieving, "Really?" strong enough Damian could have sworn he'd actually heard it instead of imagining it. The creature repeated the trill back with a few chirps at the end and Danny's eyes widened further as he turned to look back at Damian. "You, uh, you can get as close as you'd like, he says he remembers you, now. You must have made a good impression, I wouldn't have thought he'd let anyone near me for the next hour, at least."

Well then. That was significantly closer than Damian had expected based on previous experiences with Pit creatures. What did Danny mean, the creature remembered him, though? How could it remember him? "Thank you again, both of you," Damian said as he started forward, being careful not to move too quickly or make any sudden movements. The closer he got to the two of them, the more he started to notice a deep rumble and slightly higher purr coming from the two he was approaching. They seemed to resonate within his own chest, touching at something he'd never noticed was tense and on constant alert until it started relaxing at the interaction. It made him just the slightest bit less hesitant at getting closer to the two of them.

It was only when he was within reach of the creature that he realized that something in his chest had started buzzing, an answering purr that startled him enough for him to pause in his tracks. That... He'd never... What? His purr hitched at his disjointed thoughts. The Pit creature slowly sat down, shifted a suddenly worried looking Danny to sit on its lap, and carefully extended an arm in Damian's direction. His purring hitched again at the movement, and the rumbling shifted in tone slightly. Somehow, the rumble seemed to draw his purr into harmony with it and the other purr, which Damian was starting to suspect was Danny's. The Pit creature chirped softly, and somehow, Damian understood it this time. "Baby bird. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

It—the Pit—Jason—Damian took a quick moment to sign back to his father that he had a plan he didn't, he didn't need one, either before diving into the being's arms. He'd been wrong, this wasn't a Pit creature like he'd assumed, and he could only be glad he'd said nothing about his previous assumptions aloud.

He'd only ever heard hushed rumors about it, but once, a long time ago, near the beginning of his grandfather's reign as the Demon's Head, there had been a being who'd bathed in the Lazarus Waters and came out not less than they had been, but more. They had still been themselves, they had still been healed like others before them, they'd just also become the avatar of the Waters in the process. They'd been honored by many, hailed as a great protector and given many titles as thanks, though his grandfather had apparently taken exception to someone else having such an elevated position. His grandfather had killed the being and destroyed all mentions of them as he could, even going so far as to ban talk of them. But thoughts and ideas cannot be bound, and there were those who still revered the being more than his grandfather, even within his own League.

Somehow, Jason, his brother, had become the next Avatar of the Waters. His brother was still there. His brother wasn't dead again. He held back his sobs as he let out his own quiet trill. "You're still here."

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WOW. Didn't expect I'd be able to write this sequel any time soon! Well, surprise, dp×dc week has provided the prompts I needed to write a number of my more requested sequels! ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧

Good news, I'm feeling better today than I have this entire week lol hopefully this continues through the rest of the week, right? (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

If anyone thinks I missed a trigger warning for this ficlet, PLEASE let me know! I've tried my best to cover all the ones I thought might be an issue, but I'm not the most knowledgeable on what topics can be triggering yet (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) I want my readers to know what they're getting into before they get into it, y'know?

Thank you all so much for your patience! I've got some people who asked to be tagged when I wrote the sequel, so hopefully I got them all! @stealingyourbones, @ghoststoneguard, @meira-3919, @onyxlightdragon, @gatorgoose, @rainbowbunny0159, @jarlyd, here's the update y'all asked to be tagged in! Hope you liked it ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp crossover #fanfic #dp au #nanowrimo 2022 #NaNoWriMo Day 14 #dp/dc week 2022 #gosh i hope this wasn't too much for y'all #i didn't initially intend for Jason to open for us #but he grabbed me by the shirt collar and demanded to open the show this week #cussed me out a bit while he was at it #and proceeded to write himself #he's very good at that I've come to find out #though i gotta say #i absolutely love his interactions with the pit #also! world building! from Damian's POV!#lol imagine finding out your older brother whom you've denied caring for since you were nine #seemingly turned into a creature from your nightmares and took a teen not much older than you hostage #ONLY to realize that no your brother is actually NOT a creature from your nightmares #no he's now the freaking Avatar of the Lazarus Waters #he's achieved being status #he's become the thing your grandfather hates and some of your old teachers practically worshipped #lol just wait until you find out who he adopted!

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stobinesque · 11 months

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let me be the void you fill, pt. 1

@steddie-week day 4: familiar | ~2k words | Teen and up title from "I / Me / Myself" by Will Wood

On his way up the path to the small hut he’d gotten Dustin to draw a crude map to, Steve was stopped in his tracks by a lanky black cat that appeared out of nowhere—and then promptly proceeded to wind her way between his legs.

"Well hello there," he said, bending down to extend his hand towards her nose.

The cat gave his fingers one short, decisive sniff, before bumping her head against them, and resuming her circuitous turn betwixt his ankles.

Steve laughed. "So you mean to hold me hostage, then, is that it?"

The cat paused to look up at him, features set into what Steve guessed would be a look of utter disdain on a human.

"Okay, okay, bad joke, huh?" The cat slipped out from under his feet just long enough for Steve to crouch all the way down and present his palm to her again. The cat purred this time, and nudged her head up against his palm more firmly, staying still long enough to allow him to pet the top of her head, and scratch behind her ears. "I'm Steve," he offered. "And what's your name, pretty girl?"

"Miriam? Miriam! Where did you run off—oh."

Steve startled at the sudden sound, and glanced up from where the cat was now enthusiastically petting herself against him, to find a witch of about his own height rushing out the hut’s front door. They sported a head full of riotous brown curls, atop which sat a stout, felted witch's hat. In spite of the unseasonable heat, the theurgist was dressed in heavy, ruffled black skirts, and colorfully patched stockings. That had to be why their cheeks were flushed such a pretty shade of pink, right?

Steve pulled himself back up to a standing position, shaking his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. He snapped his mouth shut when he realized it had dropped open of its own accord, and glanced back down at the cat, now rubbing herself up against one leg. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked her.

The cat let out a small merp in reply, as her owner—companion?—continued to stand and stare at Steve from a few steps up the path.

🐈‍⬛🪄🔮✨🌕🧹🧙

Eddie's day had begun with a series of inauspicious events.

To start with, she had forgotten to leave fir curtains parted in just the right way before bed the night before. So instead of gradually rising with the sun as it crept in on hazy bands of light, fee'd been slapped in the face by the full force of its rays at entirely too early an hour.

And then, when she'd gone out to fetch the laundry, it was to find every single article of clothing still damp—or worse—in spite of the unusually dry heat they’d been having. That left fir with only a pair of (thankfully) threadbare, but (unfortunately) black woolen stockings, a black linen smock, and a set ruffled skirts—of which the relative breeze allowed by its shortened length at the front, was offset by the sheer quantity of its layers—to wear for the day. (The stockings, he supposed, could have been forgotten. But Eddie found themself wandering through thistle paths far too often, and unexpectedly, to not wear something on her legs every day.)

To make matters worse, the moment Miriam’d heard Eddie knocking about, she'd gone ahead and toppled over one of the cauldrons, in a way that signified today was to be a potion-making day.

Great, so I'm going to be a puddle by midday.

Most days, Eddie could choose the direction of fir practice. But sometimes, for one reason or another—a particular rhyme of the chimes hanging in zir window, the moon hanging low and large and bloody in the night sky, a particular scent in the air—the animus of the world nudged her in a particular direction.

Those days, invariably, sucked.

But still, Eddie bustled around the small cottage—grabbing roots, and herbs, and carefully preserved insect matter—preparing for the day's task. The draught that Eddie felt fumself pushed to brew today was technically complicated, time consuming, and required the assistance of another set of hands.

Which would be fine. If his familiar hadn't scampered off moments after knocking over the cauldron that morning.

Eddie searched high and low, and into every nook and cranny of the cramped hut—which did not want for hiding places, despite its small footprint—for his erstwhile familiar. Eventually, he had to admit defeat, and determined that she must have gone for a laze about the garden beds—even though she knew full well that they were off limits.

"Miriam?" Eddie called out as he pushed his way outside. Usually the one call was enough to have her trotting back home immediately, shame-faced and caught out. But in keeping with the day’s pattern, nothing was to be so easy. "Miriam!" Eddie called again, growing a touch frustrated. "Where did you run off t—oh."

Eddie came to an abrupt halt just a few steps up the path from their hut, shocked still by the sight of Miriam letting someone other than themself touch her. And it wasn't just any someone. It was perhaps the most gorgeous someone Eddie had ever laid eyes on: soft brown hair that glinted gold in the sunlight, pretty pink lips rounded into a perfectly round 'O' that just begged to have something shoved between them, and…and Eddie really needed to reign in the excesses of hir thoughts.

The honey-haired visitor straightened to a standing position and looked down at Miriam with a sweet smile on their face. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked, receiving a soft chirp of confirmation from Miriam in reply. It brought Eddie up short—most strangers didn’t address Miriam directly. Who was this person? Eddie shook his head, honing in on the most mysterious part of the tableau in front of him.

"She's letting you pet her," he marveled. "I think the last person who tried nearly got his arm chewed off for the trouble." Eddie tilted her head and looked the stranger up and down in a way that he knew would be taken for the blatant assessment it was. "She must like you." And Eddie knew that if Miriam trusted someone, then if nothing else, he should trust her—but, well: see above, re: day of inauspicious beginnings. "So what's your name, stranger?" He added just a touch of suspicion to his tone.

"Steve," came the swift reply, immediately followed with an outstretched hand, in spite of the several paces of distance still separating the two of them. "Of the town of Haring," Steve continued. As he spoke, Miriam came slinking back towards Eddie, and settled into a seated position between his feet, gaze fixed intensely at Steve.

"Okay, Steve of Haring." Eddie propped a hand on one hip, still trying to figure out what to make of this visitor. Everything about his day up ‘til now suggested there was something more going on here than met the eye. Even Miriam seemed to think so, if the way she was staring fixedly at Steve’s chest was anything to go by. But Miriam was also clearly fond of this stranger, after only moments of interaction. So there was probably nothing to fear from Steve themself, and, oh, he really needed to confirm how he should be constructing his internal narration regarding this creature— "So how else do you like to be referred to, Steve?"

"Huh?" Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I can't very well keep going around calling you 'the stranger' in my head now, can I?"

Steve shrugged. "You could just think of me as ‘Steve,’" Steve said with an adorable little head tilt.

"This is true, but it does get repetitive after a while. Which, of course, is alright, if that’s what you prefer. But I usually find that a pronoun or two often helps things along."

"Oh!" Steve snapped their fingers and pointed at Eddie with excitement at their sudden understanding. "You can use ‘he’ and ‘him’ and stuff to think and talk about me. That's what everyone else does."

"And…is that what you want everyone else to do?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't really care, I suppose. It's just…easier this way."

Eddie frowned. "And you don't think that's boring? Why limit yourself to the confines of expectation if it doesn't make you happy?"

Steve blew a gust of air between his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess you could say that's part of why I'm here, really."

Eddie raised a brow. "Oh?"

Steve waved a hand as though to bat the matter away as unimportant. "Yeah, but we're getting ahead of ourselves." Steve crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Eddie with an interest all his own. "How should I be thinking about you?"

Eddie flipped a lock of hair over one shoulder, and tossed zir sauciest smile Steve's way. "You can think of me any way you like, handsome."

The bright pink flush that swept across Steve's face—and the awkward stammering that followed—were truly the highlight of Eddie's day thus far. (Unfortunately, that was an embarrassingly low bar to clear—but, on the other hand, Steve's blush-and-stammer combo had just set it at a lifetime high. Ah, Life and Her various vagaries.)

"That's not what I meant "

"Oh I know, stranger. But that is the answer to what you did mean, anyhow, so it didn't seem prudent to pass up such a delicious opportunity to be a shameless flirt."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "Charming."

"Why yes, that is one of the things you could call me," Eddie shot back with an impish grin.

Steve laughed. "You're a bit of an asshole, aren't you?"

"I've been called worse," fee replied with a small shrug. "...and a lot better," she added with an exaggerated wink.

"Okay, but, really, how should I—? What should I—?"

Eddie waved a dismissive hand of their own. "Think of—and refer to—me however you like: he, them, hers, zir," Eddie shrugged. "It's all the same to me. Though I must confess I've grown partial to ‘fee, fi, fo, fum’."

The bright, bursting bubble of a giggle this provoked could have fueled Eddie's strongest cheering charm. "You can't be serious!"

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. Although in practice it’s more like ‘fee, fum, fir, fos’."

"Hmmm, okay. I like it." Steve reached up to tuck his hair back behind both ears at once. "What about your name?"

"What of it, pretty boy?" Eddie asked, just to see the rosy blush spread across the apples of Steve's cheeks again.

"Could I have it?"

"Could you have it? What, to keep? Are you a faerie, Steve? If you're a faerie you have to tell me, or else it's entrapment."

"No, I'm not a faerie. But I'm also pretty sure that's not how any of that works."

"That sounds exactly like something a faerie would say," Eddie shot back, jabbing an accusatory finger Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head, but there was a delighted grin on his face and a soft chuckle rising from his throat. "I just want to stop having to cycle through various iterations of 'hot witch,' in my own thoughts," he admitted.

"Oooh, well now I'm curious—how dirty and creative did you get there?"

Steve's smile shifted into something more like a smirk. "Mmm…'beddable horror specks'?"

Eddie threw his head back in a wild laugh that sent fir hat flying. "I think you mean haruspex—which isn't accurate, anyway; I prefer not to go around reading rabbit entrails—but that was good!"

"And?" Steve asked with a wheedling-but-cheery, sort of tone. "Could I get a name in reward? Something to call you by, in the heat of the moment?"

"Well, I must confess that now I'm even more curious about what you’d come up with if left to your own devices—but I suppose if you must have something to scream into the rafters while I ravish you: Eddie, son and/or daughter and/or corrupted offspring of the Moon, at your service." Hat no longer on her head to tip in Steve direction, Eddie instead swept down into a low bow, one arm extended out toward Steve in invitation.

stay tuned for part two tomorrow!

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #genderqueer eddie munson #steddieweek2023 #steddie week #steddie witch familiar au #huzzah! an entry posted reasonably well before midnight!#believe it or not this was not MEANT to become a fic about gender and pronouns and names #and yet here we are #I had the thought “fee/fi/fo/fum would make good pronouns”#immediately followed by the thought “Eddie would do that”#and I was RIGHT #part two is underway and is uhhhhh not this lighthearted thus far #(it will at worst have an open-but-hopeful ending though)#also the world building here is all vibes and no rules #read writes

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