Tumgik
#WHERE R U GOING
unfinishedslurs · 1 year
Text
gay bar (steddie)
“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”
Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 
“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.
The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“
As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”
It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!
Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.
Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”
“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”
“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”
Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”
He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 
Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”
What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”
“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?
Eh. Doesn’t matter. 
“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”
He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”
“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”
“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”
“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”
He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”
“Which one?”
“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”
“How do you even know about that?”
Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”
“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”
He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 
Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 
Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 
“That can’t be right.”
“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 
“You were Prom King.”
“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 
Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”
Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”
Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?
Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 
“What?”
“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 
Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 
No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 
He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 
He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 
“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”
What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”
Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”
Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”
“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 
Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 
“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 
He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 
“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”
“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”
“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 
Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”
“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”
Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”
“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”
“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”
“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”
Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 
“What?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Well, yeah. Duh.”
“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”
Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”
“Oh, so you’d call him because…”
“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”
“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”
“…Steve?”
“Yeah!”
“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”
“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”
“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 
“Are you drunk?”
“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 
“I just talked to you yesterday.”
Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”
“We miss you too, Steve.”
“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”
“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”
“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”
“Munson?”
“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”
“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”
“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 
“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”
“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”
“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 
“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“
“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 
“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”
“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 
“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”
“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”
“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”
“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”
“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 
“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”
Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”
Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”
“Didn’t he die?”
“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”
“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”
Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”
“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”
Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 
“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 
“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“
“That was him?”
“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”
“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”
“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”
“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 
“Oh, god, did you punch him?”
“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”
He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 
“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”
“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”
“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”
“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 
“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”
“Dude.”
Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 
“Well, Harrington?”
“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”
Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.
He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.
He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.
“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 
“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.
“Ugh. Who would want that?”
Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“
“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”
Eddie turns beet red in record time. 
“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”
“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”
“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”
Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 
Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 
“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”
Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”
“The what?”
Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”
“…oops.”
“When?” Eddie demands. 
Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”
Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 
Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”
Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 
Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”
Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”
“Steve!”
“You do!”
“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”
His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 
“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”
“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”
“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”
“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”
“I do?”
“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 
Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 
“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”
“You could leave.”
She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.
“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”
“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 
Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 
He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 
Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 
From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 
The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 
The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.
Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.
The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 
Robin has been similarly affected.
“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”
“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 
“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”
“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”
She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 
Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 
“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”
Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 
“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 
Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 
“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 
“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”
Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 
“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 
With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 
“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”
“I dunno, I think it might be working.”
“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 
“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”
“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 
Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“
“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”
Steve stares. 
“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”
“I mean, not really.”
“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”
“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”
Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 
“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”
“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”
“Thought I was fucking you.”
“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”
“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”
“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”
“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”
“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.
5K notes · View notes
drumlincountry · 2 months
Text
Kabru/Mithrun is funny because it's: guy who lives to pull people's strings/guy who doesn't have any strings to pull.
Kabru/Laios is funny because it's: guy who lives to pull people's strings/guy who has one very obvious string to pull but the other guy doesn't want to pull it because its GROSS.
696 notes · View notes
welcometogrouchland · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I've been binging Batman Beyond recently (Terry ily so much) and thought about how- bc of the JLU twist which I think isn't even canon to the comics BB verse but shhh bare with me- he'd technically be Damian's half brother??? Which is just so ridiculously soap opera to me. I need them to interact in a silly time travel adventure so bad you don't even understand (ID in alt)
#dc comics#damian wayne#terry mcginnis#batman beyond#batman and robin#mine#also feat the mild damian uniform redesign i like playing around with. it's fun i like her. i love u classic robin colours#the backstory for this image in my mind is that Terry knows of Damian/has maybe met him#in the future (whether we're going w the rebirth ''damian rejoins the league'' angle that i. don't love conceptually but can't judge-#-bc i haven't read. or if we go w/ some other potential future route for damian) and Terry is like. experiencing whiplash at meeting him-#-as robin. like you are 5 feet tall why r u so bossy. where is your dad good god. this is why i don't have a robin (?this is pre matt-robin)#but Terry's in an unfamiliar time trying not to cause a paradox so he puts aside his indignitude(?) at being bossed around by a kid#just long enough to make sure nothing goes horrifically wrong. hence this image takes place#<- i could've been a lot more eloquent explaining this but it's very late and i should've been asleep ages ago#anyway. absolutely crazy to me that Damian has had multiple flavours of secret brother plots and terry is a potential addition. rip damian#(also in my ideal future damian took up the nightwing mantle (EVERYONE READ NIGHTWING MUST DIE!!!) before retiring(#idk what his future career is. lowkey hes a webcomic artist in my brain but that's so horrendously self indulgent i can't condone it#also i decided to try my hands at lineart again. evil. how are you so stiff looking and difficult to do. waughh#anyway if things look weird. no they don't
497 notes · View notes
lovesickeros · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]
{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]
This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.
She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.
But it'd been almost a week since then.
The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.
That counted for something.
Not much, but something!
..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.
There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.
She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.
So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.
Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.
Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.
Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.
She really didn't like it.
There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.
She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.
She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.
That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.
Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.
But he wasn't.
He was out running her nation, instead.
And what was she doing? Nothing!
She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.
Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.
Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.
..She wasn't ready.
What was she supposed to say?
Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?
She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.
For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.
Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.
Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.
It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.
"Focalors?"
The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.
She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.
"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"
The silence is deafening.
She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!
"Lady Furina?"
Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.
"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.
Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.
Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.
"Why aren't you killing me?"
The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.
She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.
"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."
The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.
He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.
..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?
How unfair.
"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"
She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.
..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.
She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.
For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.
Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.
For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.
Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.
She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.
She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.
She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.
"Again."
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#fic tag#neuvillette#focalors#furina#dont ask what happened here idk#this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i.#dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up#got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story#focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment)#shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her#what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell#neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all#ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :(#furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions#using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS#constant anxiety and panic 24/7#will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry#compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more#i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY#i want 2 put them under a microscope#watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving#anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days
969 notes · View notes
shopcat · 11 months
Text
i think in the hamster wheel of my mind a big part of where people go wrong with eddie and his shitty garage band as an extension is that they for some bizarre reason think he's gene simmons metal when he's jack black metal. heavy metal. he's tenacious d metal. he's school of rock. he's stoner lord of the rings metal he nearly wore blue jeans and plaid. jack black literally in real life once said eddie was the best character bc he's heavy metal like him. LOOK AT THIS
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
#🍦#answer it's bc people think he's some mishmash of all alternative scenes without any actual knowledge of where the mashing occurs 😭#eddie is . a heavy metal guy. A cool one. a nice one even. he likes rock and roll#it's so funny when ppl try and describe it and they've never heard the stuff he actually listens to in their lives for some reason#literally so much of the appeal of eddie's character within his subculture is that its theatrical and dramatic but its still grounded#he's very alternative and Out There but he's still just some guy. he's not wearing spiked leather jackets#in fact he's not wearing any of the other kinds of leather jackets i've seen people say he would ... TO ME#sts#if u haven't seen the clip he then proceeds to air guitar the MoP melody then shouts heavy metal is everywhere#i don't even know how to explain this bc it's like ... okay#the general .. VIBE? aestheticsm? is kind of similar to what people sometimes portray but they're missing thst it's tongue in cheek#like it's like that buff poster of him being this anachronistic homage to heavy metal album covers#fire and satanic imagery and skulls and lightning and big drama and ROCK AND ROLL#it's rock and ROLL man...#and people r making him this weird sanitised dork LOL 😭 when he's a dork in a different more fun way.. imo#and it's not that those types of people don't exist and that they're not cool in their own way cuz they are sure but that's not THIS GUY#he is an 80S METALHEAD... and yeah i try and ground him in thinfs and poke and prod at it until it fits my own understanding of alternative#scenes better but that's bc i've had a hand in the punk scene for years and years#i dunno sometimes i feel like ppl r just not doing the full potential and then going way too hard in this super specific direction#and he ends up first of all usually just a massive douchebag not sure what that's about. But a guy who he would in canon HATE 😭#YOU ARE MAKING HIM A POSER. is what i'm saying#he is alwyas some guy before he's anything else and before he's that he's a 20 year old loser#you need to reflect this... You need to bottle it. ugh. ugh#so much of this reminds me of the time someone was like he would never wear PLAID#like are you kidding me. are you actually kidding me rn#ppl have this weird arstheticised mostly modern and mostly literallt just eboy Idea of what he'd wear it's crazy to me sorry#also it's ugly#i also think. this is so long lol . anyway . i also think going too ''authentic'' in the 80s metalhead direction also lands u w different#problems. my advice to people trying to write or draw alternative characters is they are People. before they are anything else#🍏
1K notes · View notes
drawnfamiliarfaces · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I've been utterly fascinated by Good (better? nicer?) Chase design by @lizard-color4 from this post and desperately wanted to know more. Who's this man? What's his story? Why is his hand bandaged? Why is his fashion taste is so much better than Original Chase? And why the hell does his hug looks so nice??
so i um, decided to explore his design a little ;D
also bonus+ sorta?? continuation / my take on the after hug because i really craved more of that
Tumblr media Tumblr media
bonus++ a silly doodle of my first attempt on his design because why not
Tumblr media
415 notes · View notes
felassan · 7 days
Text
Tumblr media
ouugh i just cant wait to return to thedas
204 notes · View notes
lexsnotdead · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
so it can't be a coincidence that flies commonly tend to represent death decay and black magic in mythology and that bloodflies also seem not to harm the witches (and respectively delilah) right. right??
973 notes · View notes
m-kyunie · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
marching forward through the Gates of Hell
214 notes · View notes
quirkle2 · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
WITSU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
163 notes · View notes
nappingpaperclip · 4 months
Text
ok I’m convinced now that if you have never ever backed up your words with actual real life political activism you need to genuinely shut the fuck up about politics and voting. “stop saying you won’t vote for genocide joe clearly guys just want to tear the voting system down without doing any actual work” maybe that’s your reality but stop projecting your weird ass liberal politics on everyone else cause you just sound like a fed trying to get ppl to confess exactly what they’ve done irl
167 notes · View notes
milkbreadtoast · 8 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(OC) boyfriends..... 🤭🧡💜
129 notes · View notes
lovesickeros · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]
{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]
Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.
It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.
Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.
She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.
She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.
Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.
And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.
She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.
So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.
Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.
..A dangerous prize, too.
She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.
"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.
He looked out of breath, she noted.
The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.
He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.
"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."
Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.
But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.
So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.
If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.
Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.
What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..
The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.
So if not the prophecy, then what?
Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.
She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.
..A draw, perhaps.
The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.
She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.
Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.
She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.
She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.
"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."
All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.
With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.
Each piece had it's purpose.
Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.
She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.
It was almost too easy.
She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.
The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.
She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.
With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.
Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.
She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.
Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.
The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.
Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.
..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.
She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.
"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..
Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.
Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.
It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.
She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.
For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.
And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.
She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.
"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"
Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..
The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!
"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."
Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.
"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"
..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.
She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.
"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.
Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."
Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.
"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?
She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?
"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."
The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.
"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"
Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.
"Have you no answer?"
The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.
Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.
"I will kill them myself."
Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.
"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."
They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.
"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"
Did she?
"Will you help me?"
She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.
"..Yes."
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#fic tag#imposter au#genshin cult au#genshin impact cult au#arlecchino#lyney#furina#you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic#trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually!#I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew#anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks#also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth#furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road#arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11#shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay#hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS#ehe :]#is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!!#shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies#anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D#also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty#bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat..#reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay#they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more#a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)
372 notes · View notes
starwikia · 2 months
Text
suicide cw
look i have been in this area before mentally. it sucks and i wouldn’t wish this on anyone. but, and this is going to sound callous, but i don’t feel any sympathy for james somerton. even if i hope he’s like. not dead. But thats all the amount of goodwill im willing to give him. The more i think about this really, the more angry i am. 
ngl this entire situation is another example of how white people weaponize their mental illness to avoid consequences. Im seeing it in real time.
this man has a continuous habit of using self-harm as a get-out-of-jail-for-free card. in both of his apologies, he has worded his supposed attempts in ways that were clearly meant to guilt people who displayed his plagiarism and overall horrendous history of racism and misogyny. i say supposed because, while i’m not saying those are lies and this would he such a fucked up thing to lie about that i don’t want to think he has, unfortunately, it’s been proven again and again that his word can’t be trusted, as he’s known to lie to try get out of consequences. Hes a proven liar. him lying about this is actually the best case scenario, because no one should go through this entire situation, wouldnt wish this on anyone, but you can only do this so often before people stop sympathizing with you. is this callous? Yeah, but like. I’m actually fucking angry he cant straight up take no as an answer. that this is how he reacts realizing he cant be one of the Cool Kidz™️ on youtube anymore. he acts like he DESERVES a career, like its not a privilege hes lost due to his own actions.
He lied about apologizing and forgiving people, he lied about giving the money to hbomberguy to give to ppl he ripped off (yknow, instead of doing it himself), he lied about the jessie gender situation and rewrote the narrative to make it so he isnt the bad guy, and hes the victim all along actually!
you can’t tell me that supposed last message of his isn’t meant to be a 13 reasons why esq attempt to deflect the blame “look i’m going to kill myself and it’s all YOUR PEOPLES FAULT for not letting me achieve my DREAM of being filmmaker IN PEACE!!! I just wanted Nick’s (the guy who I have thrown under the bus again and again) portfolio up!! Im just being a good friend dont you all FEEL BAD” he refuses to take ANY ACCOUNTABILITY of any of his actions and he IS STILL trying to shove the blame over to other people again.
it’s also pretty ironic people are like “uhhh well hbomber’s fans harassed him!!!” like hbomber outright told people NOT to HARASS JAMES!!! ALSO acting as if james doesn’t have a very real documented history of STRAIGHT UP sending his fans to harass and threaten smaller creators, more notably women, trans, and bipoc creators. especially after he’s stolen typically very personal anecdotes so he could profit from them. so why can he do it but the second people are like “hey this guys an actual piece of shit.” and he can’t handle it suddenly people are trying to white knight his shit? like no he doesn’t get that. he doesn’t get that at all just because he couldn’t handle the consequences of his actions. 
what? were supposed to stay quiet about a man profiting off of other minorities because he wanted to be the spokesman for all gay people? people tried to solve this on a smaller, more private scales for YEARS and he kept doing it. it was clear that the giant public video was the ONLY way to get people to notice. HE WOULDVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH STEALING 87 FUCKING THOUSANDS WORTH OF DOLLARS. HE CANT HANDLE THE FACT HE CANT GET AWAY WITH IT. 
am i supposed to feel bad for the guy who basically threatened a trans woman with the police? i don’t care what anyone says, it’s so fucking obvious that he threatened jessie by implying he was getting the police involved in their conflict. what am i supposed to act like that didn’t happen? are we supposed to pretend like he didn’t glorify nazi’s and outright said that gay people made up a good chunk of the nazis? That he didnt say america joined ww2 bc they were jealous of the NAZIS. WHAT WOULD POSSESS YOU TO FUCKING SAY THAT. but then? He gives women (not even women most of the time, he misgenders nonbinary ppl constantly) shit for writing mlm. are we supposed to act like he doesn’t straight-up sees himself superior and better than people of color and steals their works to put himself on a pedestal? Are we supposed to act like he didnt spit on our elders by saying “only the boring gays survived aids” like man! Fuck you! He BLANTANTLY MAKES UP HISTORY TO PUT HIMSELF ON A PEDESTAL!! HE ACTIVELY TRIED TO REWRITE LGBT HISTORY TO SUIT HIS FUCKED UP NARRATIVES!
yes this sucks ! no one deserves this but no one should be making him a martyr. Thats what he fucking WANTS! He wants to be immortalized as a victim!! (again, supposedly, it was reported hes alive but its not confirmed).
The shit he got isnt near the amount of fucking callous behavior hes done again and again. Again, to drill this point, EVEN IF HE DIDNT CALL THE POLICE HE THREATENED A TRANS WOMAN INTO THINKING HE DID!!! The fact he tried to use a head injury to justify years of the outright ghoulish shit fucking astounds me. Why the fuck did anyone in his life thought it was a good idea to let him TRY to come back. in the end, he had options. he didn’t need to try to make a comeback. HE DIDNT NEED TO FUCKING LIE OR IGNORE THE SHIT HE WAS CALLED OUT ON the reality is, he wanted to come back thinking he could shove it under the rug, was told that no dude, you’re not allowed to be a youtuber anymore. you’re done. you need to move on and went full nuclear. it’s not on anyone’s hands but his own. HES BEEN DOING THIS TO HIMSELF!! But nah man we cant call his shit out bc hell may or may not kill himself. Fuck the other minorities who have the same issues but worse and sometimes BECAUSE of him. This is going to SUCKKKK so bad when other ppl, specifically white gays, are going to weaponize this shit to get away with their stuff.
#warning: do not read this post if you want me to be nice to james somerton. i am extremely mean in this post.#before anyone accuses me of shit i legit never contacted him myself or anyone involved. i am someone who witnessed this behavior repeatedly#again. i hope hes alive and well. the fact is him lying about this WOULD BE THE IDEAL SITUATION. BC NO ONE SHOULD GO THROUGH THAT. but.#he HAS to forever be the victim in his eyes. attempting doesnt automatically mean youre free of sin.#its just terrible to see that regardless whether or not he did do it#its very clear his attempts to run away from his consequences are working on some people#we need to acknowledge that if your shitty ex friend can weaponize a threat to kill themselves#so can this internet person after being called out for horrendous shit#like what was the alterative? what were people supposed to fucking do? be nice about it?#yeah as if poc and trans women arent historically given shit for being 'too mean' about wanting justice.#this isnt just the plagiarism this is the fact a white dude has been parading himself as THE speaker for the gays(tm) but has been using hi#gayness to shield himself from his misogyny racism transphobia and antisemitism#its very clear regardless this means that ppl r going to side with him and then give him benefit of doubt#if you cant handle the heat stay out of the fucking kitchen dude. this is the consequences of your fucking actions.#hes a disgusting person who cant handle being told no so hes going to drag everyone down with him#like. idk this entire situation is frustrating to me.#its also frustrating ppl trying to be moral abt it like 'see! i knew this was bad all along!' no you didnt. shut it.#for the record im like mainly talking abt twit watching those spineless uwu cutesy ppl basically saying hes done noting wrong#oh and also alt righters who are clearly weaponinizing this where u know they wouldnt give a shit if a right ytber did this.#james somerton#idk might delete this later its just. ugh...
106 notes · View notes
padfootastic · 6 months
Text
if you’re writing james & sirius in a way that atleast one person doesn’t ask ‘are those two dating’ then sorry but that’s actually two random OCs with familiar names
253 notes · View notes
pepperpixel · 25 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“put me on a pedestal and i’ll only disappoint you
tell me i’m exceptional, and i promise to exploit you
gimme all your money, and i’ll make some origami honey!
i think you’re a joke!!! …but i don’t find you very
fuuuuuuu~nyyy”
More tagr art!!! Assorted stuff this time! Featuring some cute chibi stuff. Some solo gaz’s, a lil uhhh. Comic of an altercation.. and a very belated Halloween pic I started drawing last Halloween and didnt finish lol. Also featuring lyrics from pedestrian at best cuz that song rllly rlly fits my ver of tak lol.
#invader zim#gaz membrane#invader tak#tagr#iz tak#iz gaz#tak#doodles#there toxic yuri!!! they’re all over the place!!! tak is tsundere insane alien who fueled by revenge it’s gonna be rough!#I think. there relationship would slowly grow and develop as gaz is helping tak w all her injuries#but I think they’d end up having a true true falling out sometime after take fully healed and gets her ship back.#and they’d be split up for a few years maybe? idk how long I’d want it to be. but! yeah.#absence makes the heart grow fonder and makes u realize how fucking stupid u are#and eventually they’d reunite and shit would be better lol#I don’t want them to be at each others throats forever that’d suck lol#theyre just definitely are moments where there at each others throats in the beginning#but they r also moments.. where they both feel true belonging and acceptance. like they never have before… and it blows there lil minds…#I also dO want gaz to go into space at some point w tak cuz that’d be fucking awesome#after they reunite again they can go explore the universe a bit#these r all very half baked ideas btw and also my brains mush cuz ive been drawing all day#so please excuse if said ideas suck. also please excuse all the typos lol#I might change my mind on the them separating idk… or maybe make it a shorter amount of time… idk!! I havent thought thru all this shit lol#it’s not like I’m gonna write a story or actually make a comic I’m just drawing random fanart#I don’t need to have all these thoughts all solidified lol
92 notes · View notes