Since Weve Seen Zombie Au With Steve May We Have A Little Something Of Vampire!eddie?

Since we’ve seen zombie au with Steve may we have a little something of vampire!eddie?

Sorry I don’t have any sort of plot in mind, I just think vampire!eddie is cool :)

thank u for your request! vampire!eddie x ditzy!reader

"Eddie," you say, in that meandering way you do, like talking is a pastime with no urgent goal at the end, "one of your friends is in the bathroom."

Eddie blinks, the spoon in his hand quickly put back into the bowl of cereal it had risen from. "What?" 

"One of your friends is in the bathroom," you say, and only now does he notice you have soap all over your face. Suds in your brows and the baby hairs of your hairline, across the soft hill of your chin and at your nostrils. 

"Baby, you've half-washed your face. Come here." 

You sit at the dining table beside him and Eddie sets to work, one hand on your thigh, the other your face as he dabs the soap away with his hoodie sleeve. Your eyes flutter closed at his gentle touches. Eddie feels satisfaction in knowing you trust him to be so close while you're unguarded. You've never been scared of him, but Eddie is scary. He can hear your heart slow as he finishes, and that's when he wonders why it had been beating quickly to begin with.

He tries not to listen to your heart. It plagues him when he's hungry, and it feels like a strange invasion of privacy. "Sorry, it's freaky, but I can hear your heart–" 

"Sorry for what?" you ask. 

Eddie shakes his head fondly and chucks you under the chin. He wants to go back to his cereal, but he continues, "What has your pulse up?" 

"I told you, baby, there's a friend in the bathroom." 

Eddie knows better than to expect an explanation. He puts his bowl of cereal in front of you in case you're hungry, kisses the top of your head, and goes to investigate the bathroom. 

Eddie's shocked as he opens the door. The bathroom is in extreme disarray, which isn't unusual for you typically but he cleaned it last night, and you may be scatterbrained but you don't often leave the faucet blasting hot water full pelt. He turns it off, collects the pile of tipped laundry on the floor, and wonders how best to ask you if you're feeling alright when he notices something alarmingly large. Your soapy face is explained, as well as your quick-beating heart. You must've seen what he's seeing and run away. 

"Holy fuck," he says, flinching back hard into washing machine. "Holy fuck! What the fuck is that?" 

"So you've found your friend?" you ask from the hallway. 

Eddie scrambles sideways out of the bathroom and into the hall with you, almost knocking the bowl of cereal clean from your hands. "That thing is not my friend." 

"What? I thought you liked spiders, they subsist off of the same kinds of things," you murmur, a little drop of milk at the corner of your mouth. You lick it away absentmindedly.

"A spider could slap my ass and hand me a cheque for a million bucks and I still wouldn't like him," Eddie denies, peering into the bathroom cautiously. The Spider had been hanging down from a web and nearly as big as Eddie's hand. He's not making friends with that. "And how about you, huh? I thought you liked spiders? You keep enough of them." 

Sometimes you'll keep a spider inside of a mason jar for artistic purposes, sketching them before setting them free. "Yeah, Eds, I like spiders," you say around your spoon, "not tarantulas." 

He waves a hand at you, vaguely irritated. You giggle and offer him a spoonful of cereal, which he accepts. The two of you stand and chew with your backs against the bannister, staring at the bathroom door. Too afraid to look away, and too afraid to go back inside. 

"Wanna seal it off?" he asks eventually, morosely, knowing he's not brave enough to go and deal with it. 

"Yes." You scrape the bottom of the bowl with the spoon. "We could call Steve?" 

"I'm not calling Steve." 

"Okay. Hey, this could be good for us. Peeing outside connects you to nature, or something." 

Eddie sighs and rubs his pale face. He's way too hungry to deal with this, for both cereal and something less family friendly. He can't tell you, though. You keep offering to let him bite you. "Alright," he sighs. "I'll call Harrington." 

"Then you'll have two friends in the bathroom," you say, nearly to yourself as you begin down the stairs, "like a party. I'll go make you some more cereal." 

"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says with a relieved laugh, closing the bathroom door and drawing a cross against the woodgrain.

He doesn't notice the shadow of his definitely-not-friend as it squeezes under the doorway.

one day I’ll finally write that ridiculously elaborate fanfiction that I’ve been carefully constructing in my daydreams for months and then you’ll be sorry. you’ll all be sorry.

whenever i'm trying to talk myself out of buying something i don't need i always hear my old russian professor's voice echoing in my head: "WHAT??? WILL YOU DIE THE RICHEST MAN IN THE GRAVEYARD?" and then i make an unwise financial decision

Am I happy Watcher rolled back their plan and apologized? Yes. Have I still lost any desire to watch their videos? Yes. Do I think people are being too harsh towards Steven, singling him out and such? Yes. Do I think Steven and Andrew bringing back worth it in the middle of a global cost of living crisis is extremely out of touch? Yes.

All of these things can coexist. Feelings towards the situation can be complex. It happens.

Reading a book about slavery in the middle-ages, and as the author sorts through different source materials from different eras, I am starting to understand why so many completely fantastical accounts of "faraway lands" went without as much as a shrug. The world is such a weird place that you can either refuse to believe any of it or just go "yeah that might as well happen" and carry on with your day.

There was this 10th century arab traveller who wrote into an account that the fine trade furs come from a land where the night only lasts one hour in the summer and the sun doesn't rise at all in the winter, people use dogs to travel, and where children have white hair. I don't think I'd believe something like that either if I didn't live here.

Watchergate: 4/19-4/22