#I made myself cry writing this

[yearning-for-autumn]

Trauma-Verse -- Part II

Cassian

A/N - I really hurt my own feelings with this one. Cassian is so precious to me. If you have ever struggled with an eating disorder, especially bullemia or are sensitive to that sort of thing I would give this one a miss.

---

Summary - A young teenage Cassian struggles with eating after years of malnourishment. Az catches him in a vulnerable moment.

Warnings - Eating Disorders, Vomiting, Childhood trauma, angst.

Pairings - None

Word Count - 600

These days, Cassian had enough food to last him weeks. These days, Cassian could eat whatever he wanted from the pantry, and he knew it would be replaced the next day. These days, he was safe.

So why was it so hard for him to believe it?

There were rice cakes and crackers and hunks of bread in his wardrobe, just in case. He had pilfered sweets from Rhys’ room and hid them in his night stand drawer. All around his room, little hiding places for food were carefully kept secret. It was his food. No one else’s. If they couldn’t see it. They couldn’t take it.

For a growing boy, Cassian ate surprisingly little at dinner times. Rhys’ mother was as patient as ever. It’s not like he was the only one who struggled to sit at the High Lords table. He was a bastard born Illyrian. He could never belong there anyway. He picked at his food, pushing it around his plate with his fork, held awkwardly in his hands, more like a weapon than a delicate piece of silverware. He hated eating off of it. He hated eating in front of everyone, especially Rhys who ate off of his fork with all the poise of the Prince he was.

Later that night he would sneak down to the kitchen, where the leftovers were waiting in the fridge. Too much for one person, but he would eat it all. He would use his hands, much more fitting for someone like him.

The sheer amount of food was overwhelming, his stomach churned and rolled, but he kept eating, as if at any moment it would be snatched from his hands. It hurt. He felt light-headed, and dizzy, and only had a few seconds to make it to the sink before he threw it up.

“Cassian, what the fuck are you doing?” That was Azriel’s voice behind him. He was never asleep early. Cassian should have waited longer.

“I got hungry.” He said, as if the number of empty bowls on the kitchen counter didn’t give him away. Azriel sighed.

Newly un-bandaged hands came up to rub Cassian’s scalp. Cassian remembered when he had finally taken them off. How he and Rhys had gone pale at the sight of them. But they were Azriel’s hands. His brothers hands. They could never hurt him.

“Cassian, that was all the food for tomorrow.” He said, peering into the bowls, pushing the plates back from the edge. Azriel rarely showed how much he cared, but Cassian knew he did. When he heaved into the sink again, Azriel was by his side in an instant, rubbing just between his wings. Cassian couldn’t help the tears that fell, nor the embarrassing whimper he made when Azriel gathered him in his arms.

Azriel gave a withering sigh, but let Cassian sob onto his pyjama shirt anyway. He kept one hand on his back, the other reached over to turn the sink on, washing away the evidence of Cassian’s late night binge.

“You want to show me where you’ve hidden the rest?” Az asked. Cassian shook his head. By now the crackers and bread would be stale. But he needed them there. Just in case.

Just in case.

“Come sleep in my room, Cass.” Azriel said, already leading him up the stairs, one hand on his shoulder. Cassian brushed his teeth. Then got into Azriel’s bed, like they had done a hundred times before.

He didn’t worry about whether Az might have a nightmare. Whether he might wake up with the burning need to finish off the food downstairs. Because Azriel’s soft breathing was against his forehead, his scarred hands were gently rubbing his back. He was warm. He was comfortable.

He was safe.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #writing #fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian #autumn writes #angst #trauma #i made myself cry writing this #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #batboys #young cassian #young azriel #nessian #nesta x cassian #rhysand #night court

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Gone. (Ghost x OC) - AU!!!

for @xxshadowbabexx 's angst competition using prompts 1, 2, 6 and 9.

pairing: F!OC! Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley bonus: Moot!OC (Meabh "Pirate" O'Malley) x Johnny "Soap MacTavish words: 3.7k~ summary: An AU where Ghost died with Soap, leaving behind Whiskey and Meabh who are grieving for them :) cw: death and dying, loss, grief, blood, vomiting, crying, ghosts

At first, it was cold. Dark. The feeling of the blood seeping down his skin and pooling on the floor behind him. 

The air was thin, he couldn’t breathe, his chest heaving, sounds of grunts and gunshots echoing around him.

His head lulled to the side, long enough to catch the sight of Soap. He was already unmoving. 

Then, his eyes slowly unfocused.

Not the first time he felt it.

But the last time, whatever powers that be decided to spare him.

Not this time.

Then came the feeling of nothing. No pain, no coldness, no… nothing. No air in his lungs, no saliva in his mouth, no weight on his joints. 

He opened his eyes and he was still here… and his body was, well… there. He looked down at it. A sorry sight, really, to see his body on the floor, the blood around his head, mingling with Soap’s next to him.

Soap was standing by his side. They could see each other, half-translucent, not quite there, but not quite gone. Neither of them seemed confused or lost… Only mildly resigned to the fact that This Is It. 

Gaz and Price succeeded in disarming the tunnel bomb and Ghost turned slowly, looking at them as they approached the two bodies, Price’s voice announcing: “All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralised, bomb is safe… Two K.I.A.”

…

Soap and Ghost stood over Price’s shoulder, eyes locked on his own front door. Gaz stood beside him, both men looking solemn, Price holding Ghost’s dog tags.

It was just past 3 A.M., he’d noticed, when Whiskey opened the door, wrapped in one of her silk-like robes, the hall light illuminating her from behind.

She locked eyes with Price before he could even speak and her jaw clenched tight, her eyebrows rising lightly. 

He knew that look. He knew it all to well. It was the same way she had looked when she told him about her father and brother.  He knew the others could tell too, of course, but what they couldn’t tell, were the subtleties of it. 

To him, she looked like she was about to cry, even if her tears were nowhere to be seen, and the swallowing of a lump stuck in her throat, which was, in reality, a scream she wanted to let out… And how, once they were gone, she’d cry herself until her throat was raw.

He wanted to hug her, fuck, he wanted nothing more than to hug her. To pull her tight into his chest, to murmur into the crown of her head that he’s here, that he’ll always be here. But he couldn’t. Not today. Not ever again.

“Don’t.” Whiskey said as she raised a hand to stop Price from speaking the same moment he opened his mouth. He knew better than to try to use the bullshit prepared speech they always give to grieving wives. She wasn’t just a grieving wife. She was a soldier.

“Give me the dog tags.” She demanded and presented her palm. He slowly set the round disks and chain in her hand. She, slowly, rubbed her thumb over them as she looked at them, Simon noticed how her skin traced his surname tenderly.

“I don’t want a big fuss. It’s not what he would have wanted.” She told Price and raised her eyes to meet his again. Had Simon been alive, he would’ve felt his heart swell in his chest, she really did know him so well… 

Price nodded at her in understanding. “I know.” He told her in earnest.

“Do whatever you need to do… I don’t want to attend a funeral. Just bring me back his ashes and his mask and gloves.” She demanded.

“Okay. Should take a few days.” Price assured her with another curt nod. 

“That’s fine.” Whiskey nodded at him and, slowly, she slipped her husband’s dog tags around her neck, the longer chain meaning they disappeared below the collar of her t-shirt. One of his, actually, full black, with the scraggly name of a metal rock band on the front.

“Soap?” She asked him as her beautiful hazel eyes returned to Price after fixing the chain. The man replied by shaking his head. “Give me a minute to get dressed and pack a bag. I’ll go with you.” She announced and turned around to disappear back inside their home.

-

Whiskey looked at him with a cocked brow as they laid tangled up, in her barrack’s bed.

“If something happens to me, I’d want you to get the widow’s pension.” Simon mused aloud as he stared at the ceiling.

“Yeah, same, it’d just make sense to-” Victoria began to say before she stopped herself and her head shot upwards, glaring into his eyes. “Are you proposing to me, Simon?” She asked him in shock.

That hadn’t been his intention. They had just been halfway through discussing what life would be like for the people around them, once they’re dead. But now that she mentioned it… “Yes.” He replied deadpan.

Victoria continued staring at him like he was insane, eyebrows scrunched, eyes narrowed… But then she simply answered an “Okay.”

“That doesn’t scare you, does it?” Simon asked her as he dipped his head to the side, looking at her through down his nose as her head rested on his chest again.

“No. Just caught me off-guard.” Victoria said with a shrug and a silent exhale of a laugh, shaking her head against his chest. Her ear was right on top of his left pec and she could hear his heartbeat, slow… steady.

Simon watched her lay against Meabh, staring at the ceiling, as Meabh slept against her, in the same position Simon and Victoria usually fit into, Meabh’s head on Victoria’s chest. Johnny sat on the edge of the bed next to Meabh, resting his ghostly hand on her head even though she couldn’t feel it. 

It had been a shit show, telling Meabh that Soap was gone… Messy. Messier than any of them had expected.

They had witnessed Meabh losing her mind, denying it over and over and over, shaking her head, not believing the words Price spoke, the way he tried to hand her his dog tags, the way the tears rolled down her face even with her smiling in disbelief. 

Victoria had risen up to take Meabh back to her room and let her cry it out, having shooed Price and Gaz away… then, in her room, Meabh screamed at God, pleaded for Soap’s return, bargained and begged, tried reasoning with God that He couldn’t take him, not before she had a chance to tell him she was pregnant…

Victoria struggled to wrangle her into bed, both falling to their knees, Whiskey clutching her tight to her chest, as Meabh screamed and cried, doubled over herself, making herself look so small for a woman that was usually so strong. Soap had cried with her, fallen to his knees beside her, and tried telling her he was right here… not that it made a difference.

Only the two of the women and their ghosts remained.

Meabh had another one, Simon had noticed. A curly-haired man lurked and loomed outside her window. Soap hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with his woman’s grief and the recent discovery of the baby in her belly. He knew he was likely Meabh’s father. They looked alike. Same eyes, same hair, same facial structure… But he kept away for now.

Victoria was awake, eyes locked on the ceiling as she held Meabh close, the sun shining in, at 6 A.M., but Meabh had cried herself to sleep. Simon didn’t dare approach her, keeping to his namesake, and simply watching his wife from the sidelines, his lips pressed together.

He could see her clutching onto her emotions with an iron grip, her brows scrunched and her jaw clenched, teeth grinding loudly. She couldn’t let it go. Not now. Not when Meabh needed her most. 

-

The funeral had been beautiful. Mr and Mrs. MacTavish were too much of a wreck to plan anything, his sisters even more so… So it fell on Meabh. It would’ve either way, she was his wife, after all. 

It ended up being a beautiful celebration of Johnny and his life. Sharing stories of him, food and drink, and music… Full of fun and happiness and light, just how he deserved. It was an Irish tradition, Victoria came to find out. 

The American had only left Meabh’s house after a week by her side, having traded spots with one of Soap’s sisters. She went home for a day, just needing a break. Three days' worth of celebrations plus four extra ones dealing with a grieving Meabh and a large family such as Soap’s had taken a toll on her. Simon went with her.

She crossed the threshold into their home quietly, not even bothering to turn on any of the lights in her wake. Then, she tossed her duffel bag aside, kicked off her sneakers, and pressed herself into the wall right past the living room door, sinking down to the hardwood floor.

Even in the darkness, he could tell she was crying. The way her breath hitched and her silhouette trembled against the wall. She cried like that for a long, long while.

Then, the tears got harder, faster, her breath rose and rose in volume, desperate for gulps of air, like she was suffocating and unable to breathe and she started openly sobbing, letting out these primal sounds of grief from the back of her throat.

Simon’s eyes welled up with tears too as the screams coming from her throat scratched at his dead heart. He wanted so badly to hold her… He wanted to. He wanted to. She cried and cried and he couldn’t do much more than kneel beside her.

He watched as she curled herself onto her hands and knees and screamed raggedly in pure and absolute pain, like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest. He had. Her heart had been his, and he had taken it with him when he died.

Primal, painful shrieks came from her mouth, so deep and loud that her whole form shook… or maybe it was the hiccups from the lack of air and the lump in her throat. He couldn’t tell. She banged a fist on the floor in front of her, once and twice and three times, until her hand hurt, until the external pain countered the grief. It didn’t.

Victoria ran herself ragged while she cried over Simon, crying so much and screaming bloody murder until her throat was raw and red, until her voice went hoarse and her throat hurt and her stomach churned…

And then she vomited, hurling whatever food Mrs. MacTavish had made for dinner that day onto the hardwood floors, then cried some more, hiccuping and trembling as she looked at the mess of her vomit on the floor through tear-filled eyes.

Simon’s sat beside her as she pulled herself back against the wall, breathing desperate, greedy gulps of air, feet parted and planted on either side of the puke puddle, as she wiped her mouth clean with the back of her right hand and then hung her head down, resting her forearms limply on her knees.

“God damn you, Simon Michael Riley…” She spoke in a whine, her voice hoarse and shaky, too broken to speak properly. “You can’t save me and then leave me here to bleed… What am I supposed to do without you?”

Simon leaned against her, pressing his bare lips against her temple, hoping, praying to a God he doesn’t even believe in, that she can feel it, can feel him… That Victoria gets some sort of realization that he’s not gone, not really… That he’ll spend a lifetime by her side, waiting for her time to come.

-

Victoria spent the next couple of days at home, having texted Meabh some excuse about wanting to be home to receive Simon’s ashes from Price, who was going to deliver them soon.

Meanwhile, she simply went about cleaning their house. They had had plenty of fresh produce, fruit, and meat in the fridge, which had spoiled after a week away. He watched her, like always, make herself feel better by deep cleaning the entire home.

He hovered over her shoulder the whole time, wishing he could just reach out with a firm hand on her shoulder like he usually did, making her turn around, hugging her tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head… But he couldn’t. So, instead, he just hovered… watching her as she went about it all.

It was only after she was done cleaning, after she showered, after she took some melatonin gummies and passed out on the couch on day two, clutching his dog tags tight in her fist, along with her brother’s and father’s, that he heard it.

“She’ll be alright.” A manly southern-American-accented voice reverberated from behind him. 

Simon turned slowly, coming face to face with an older man with short black hair, greying stubble, and intense, stern blue eyes.

“Are you-” Simon began.

“Owen Callahan, son.” The man introduced himself with a light, lazy salute. Simon returned it without even thinking about it.

“Worst possible way I can think of to meet my father-in-law.” Simon muttered sarcastically.

Owen’s eyebrows raised and he smirked a bit. “Can’t kill you again, son, so don’t be scared.” He added.

“‘m not, sir.” Simon added and shook his head, watching his father-in-law’s ghost move about the room, coming to stand over Victoria, a hand caressing her head, much like he’d seen Johnny do to Meabh while she slept, and her dad, Seamus, as well… when John was too busy fussing about his mam and sisters at the funeral. He didn’t want to show himself to Johnny, Simon had noticed.

“Is her brother around? Nathan?” Simon asked and looked around himself, seeking out another ghost. 

“I’m here.” Nathan muttered as he fazed through the bedroom wall into the living room. He was a handsome young man. A crew cut worth of black hair, a shaggy stubble that extended down his jaw onto his neck, slender hazel eyes, and a notch cut into his left eyebrow.

“So… you two been here this whole time?” Simon asked as he looked at them, brows raised in confusion and surprise.

“Haunting her? Yeah.” Nathan replied as he came to stand by Simon’s side. He was a few inches shorter than him.

“So you’ve seen… everything?” Simon asked as he looked at them.

“If you mean you fuckin’ my daughter, no. We made sure to be far fuckin’ away from here when you two would get close to it.” Owen muttered crudely from next to Victoria.

“Ah-” Simon nodded a bit and scratched at the back of his neck, feeling, for once, a bit embarrassed. He could, strangely enough, feel at himself, just not others.

“Don’t get all coy now. Like I said, should be grateful I can’t kill ya again.” Owen added.

“I am, sir.” Simon nodded. 

“But, all things considered… she could’a married worse, dad.” Nathan muttered as he slid over to Victoria and sat at her feet, on the armrest of the couch.

“I know…” Owen grunted as he looked at her. Then, he looked at Simon. “You did her good. Ain’t seen her smile as much as I saw her with ya, since we passed.”

Simon nodded and looked away. He’d never been good at this. Taking praise and compliments. Socializing. “Thank you, sir.”

-

On day three, she was awoken by a knock on the door. She was still in the clothes she had changed into last night. Not pajamas, but rather a pair of black leggings and one of Simon’s t-shirts. 

Simon followed after her, like a lost puppy, constantly wanting to stay around her. Nathan and Owen remaining lounging about in the sitting room. They had more experience and no longer followed her so desperately… other than when she went into battle.

Price and Gaz stood on the other side of the door. Price held a non-descript matte black ceramic urn. Gaz, next to him, held Ghost’s balaclava and gloves, as well as a few of his throwing knives.

Victoria took the mask, gloves and knives first, looking at them closely and taking a deep breath before she set them in a shelf inside the coat closet. Then, she turned to Price and looked at the urn closely.

Her hands shook as she took the urn into her hands, feeling the weight of it. So much of Simon had been condensed into ashes inside a small pot that could be confused for a decorative jar if one wasn’t paying attention.

“Thank you.” She told them with a nod as she carefully wrapped a hand around the urn and clutched it to her chest protectively like it was a baby, and not just her husband’s ashes.

Price gave her a look and then looked down at the urn. She seemed to pick up on the sign he gave her, and returned the look with a barely-there nod.

“Do you need anything?” Gaz asked her softly, politely, caringly. “Food? Company?”

Price was still silent, however. He knew better than to offer. He might not have known Victoria as well as Simon and Meabh, but he knew enough.

“No, thanks,” Victoria said as she nodded at them. “I’m fine.” She lied and forced herself to smile a bit.

“Are you su-” Gaz was about to ask but got struck to silence by a sharp elbow to his side, from Price.

“We have things to do, Gaz. Gotta get back to base.” Price said, cutting him off.

“But si-” Gaz attempted again, instead, simply earning a glare from the man.

“We have things to do, Gaz.” Price repeated sharply. Then, he turned to look at Victoria again. “Will be expecting you to report to base on Monday.” Price told her, knowing she’d want to work through her grief. Just like Simon would.

“Copy that.” She nodded, then, the two men stepped back, and she closed the door in their faces, walking her urn back to the couch and carefully setting it atop the coffee table.

Simon was hot on her tail and sat beside her on the couch, peering over at her with a tentative glance. He could tell she was on the verge of breaking down again, now that she had Him home.

Nathan and Owen were gone. They tended to do that, sometimes. Disappearing.

She took a deep breath and popped open the lid, peering inside the urn. The ashes were inside a ziplock bag inside, as usual… But, atop of them, rested a small black velvet box. She pulled it out of the urn and onto her lap, then, slowly, opened it.

Inside, nestled in a foam pad, rested two rough-looking wedding bands. Made of gold but full of marks and scuffs… and with a dark grey piece of rough stone on the center, where one would expect to see a precious gem.

Simon wanted to hide away in shame when he saw them, groaning loudly, glad she couldn’t hear him. Of course Price would go and find his failed metal-work creations and give them to her.

Simon had spent the last year in a metal working class, trying to make them a proper set of wedding bands. They had gotten married without one, instead using their dog tags during the vow exchange, and then had never bothered buying some, because Victoria thought they were stupid, and it’s not like they could wear them out in the field…

But Simon wanted to give her something. He wanted her to surprise her! Wanted to make her all kinds of gold jewelry because he knew how much she loved to wear it when they were on leave… He just had to get good at it first! But he didn’t. 

These rings were the most recent pair he tried to make, gold and meteorite stone, which, one day, he’d hope to substitute with an actual precious gem, once he got good enough, once the rings were smooth and sleek.

He just wasn’t good at it no matter how many times he practiced. They were still rough and uneven and her wedding band was twisted and strange… He just wasn’t made for making beautiful things… But he was willing to try… for her.

And yet, as she looked at them now, clutched in her hand, tears streamed down her face… All Victoria could think was how beautiful the rings were. “Fuck…” She grunted through her teeth. She slowly grabbed her ring and rolled it between her fingers, feeling the rough texture of it with her fingertips… 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Simon…” She murmured as she looked up at the urn, almost like she was looking at him, unaware that his ghost was right there, beside her, wanting nothing more than to wipe her tears and hold her hand.

Simon slid away from the couch and sat across from her on the coffee table, parking himself over his ashes, wanting to feel like she was looking at him… even if she couldn’t see him. “How long did ya keep these a secret? I wish you would’ve told me you were making ‘em…”

“I’m just fuckin’ unlucky, ain’t I?” She muttered to herself as she kept gazing upon her ring. “You ain’t that lucky either, are ya?”  She asked, soft tears rolling down her cheeks, sniffling away the tears, batting her eyelashes to try and contain them. It was unsuccessful.

“You couldn’t tell me you were making these… I couldn’t tell you ‘I love you’...” She trailed off as she looked at him, smiling sadly as more tears ran down her face, her lips scrunching up to stop a hiccup and a sob.

“It just wasn’t in the cards for us, huh? Never is… for people like us, ain’t that right?” She asked him, looking right at him, but not seeing him. “It was never gonna end with us (retiring) together, was it?”

Simon reached out and placed a hand over her cheek, unable to do anything more than hold her like he had so many times before, muttering a reply that she wouldn’t hear: “I love you too, Victoria. You’ll see me again.”

the rings in question:

@crashtestbunny better see some tears bestie

#ikea writes 💚 #angst #hurt comfort #but not in the way you think #the angst is angsting #i made myself cry writing this #tw death #tw grief #tw loss #tw vomitting #ghost died with soap #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty oc #cod oc #oc: victoria “whiskey” callahan #ghost x whiskey #meabh 'pirate' o'malley #O'Mac

[snogards]

I wanted to share Zuko's monologue from a Zutara fic I'm writing. The fic won't be posted on this blog, but will be posted on my writing blog @nightinggail-writes. This is a post Legend of Korra fic, which is ironic because I still haven't finished the damn show, and it's heavy on the angst. Anyway, enjoy my long ass, sad monologue

"The world would not have been ready for us, Katara. There would never have been a marriage like ours, a love like ours, in our youth. The ridicule we would have faced, the ridicule any of our potential children would have faced their entire childhoods—I would not have been able to bear it. I wouldn’t have been able to bear how miserable you would have been, had you chosen me; and don't you dare say you could have handled it—I know you could have. I could not have handled it—how could I just stand by and watch the woman I love be treated that way? No matter what I would say, they would still whisper, they would have whispered about you when I was not around. Nothing I could have done would have stopped it. No amount of love I could offer you would be enough to prevent your misery in the only life I could offer. If I were not who I am, if my uncle had taken my place on the throne instead, maybe I would have told you how I felt—how I still feel, after all these years, these 80, long years—the world may have been ready by the time I took my place on the throne with you by my side. But that is not how events unfolded for us. There were many times where I had almost told you, but I never gathered the courage to do it; and then you got married, and I had lost my chance forever, because how could I break up the marriage of two of my closest friends? So I settled, and told myself I would never tell you how I felt. But now I am 96 years old, and I am dying, and I couldn't go through with my promise to myself. So here I am, telling you that I love you."

#Young & Beautiful by Lana Del Ray you did this to me #I made myself cry writing this #zutara #zuko #katara #atla #lok #avatar the last airbender #legend of korra #zutara fic #monologue? more like monolong

[daisychains111]

Thalia woke up and learned that her best friend was evil.

Thalia begged the walls of her empty cabin for the boy she loved to come back to her.

Thalia cried as she destroyed training dummies, trying to be more angry than sad.

Thalia dreamed of him coming back for her, she dreamed of the old days, she also dreamed of killing him, but at least she got to see him so she didn't mind.

Thalia felt guilty for not hating him, she felt guilty for still believing he'd never let her down.

Thalia thought about him every day. His smile, his blue eyes, his stupid jokes. She hated herself for missing him.

Thalia reads the old myths of a 2nd Titan war. She reads of a boy corrupted by Kronos. The authors never tell the real story. They never let him be the hero he was.

Thalia holds on to Luke forever. Because how can you just get over your first and only love.

#thaluke #thalia and luke were doomed by the narritive #thalia grace #luke and thalia #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #thalia grace is my current roman empire #titans curse #i made myself cry writing this

[bogwitchlesbian]

Steddie exes but Eddie broke up with Steve

They dated throughout middle school until sophomore year of high school. They were childhood sweethearts and Eddie and Wayne were the only real people to show Steve love and kindness

Steve is all in, as we know, and is looking forward to the rest of his life with Eddie. He’s the only person that’s stuck around this long, and they’re in love. Even Wayne says he thinks they’ll beat the odds for teen romance. What could possibly happen to break them up?

Steve’s dad, that’s what. He comes home one day while Eddie is on the floor rambling about something to do with the new Judas Priest album, while Steve watches fondly from the couch. Nothing even remotely incriminating is going on. They’re 5 feet apart, and (for once) wearing their own clothes.

Steve’s dad flies off the handle anyway. Says some awful things about eddies family, his dad, the trailer park, and what does Steve think he’s doing, risking the family’s reputation hanging around with “a boy like that”

Naturally Eddie is swiftly kicked out, and Steve’s receives a backhand when he tries to defend Eddie.

Steve’s dad leaves again two days later, and Steve races down to eddies place to apologise, but Wayne answers the door instead.

Looks at Steve with sad eyes, inspects the bruise on Steve’s cheek, and hands him a bag of frozen peas and a letter. Tells him that Steve can always come to him if he needs anything, no matter what.

Steve reads the letter once he has trudged miserably back home. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore” is as far as he gets before he feels his heart shatter.

The letter is full of rubbish as far as Steve is concerned. He gets being discrete until he’s 18 and can legally leave his parents home, but Eddie is talking nonsense.

“You deserve better” and “I can’t give you a family like you want”. Lots of on-the-surface self sacrificing words that Steve realises a few years later, after the hurt has settled, were eddies way of protecting himself from what he saw as the inevitable, which was Steve leaving him for some upper class girl with a perfect perm and perfect lipstick.

after he had cried himself to sleep and took the long route to school to avoid going past forest hills, Steve decided in all his teenage wisdom to do what Eddie asked him to do, and forget he ever existed.

He pretended to like girls, and tommy hagan’s cruel laughter. Pretended to like Nancy wheeler, and still somehow got his heart broken, because damn, even if he wasn’t in love with her the way he wished he could be, hearing that someone considered the idea of being loved by you was “bullshit” fucking stings.

After Nancy he stops trying to pretend. Leans into his long suppressed instincts to protect people, and shows Dustin how to take care of his curls in a way he learned from Eddie when he had to dress up to go to a cousins wedding in Indianapolis when they were 14.

The stuff with the upside down honestly becomes routine faster than he’d like to admit. He falls into the swing of the bat with an easy grace that comes from years of suppressed protective instinct.

When Dustin starts attending hellfire is when Steve’s carefully constructed “new normal” starts to fall apart. His constant requests for Dustin to shut up about eddie Munson lead Dustin to the conclusion that Steve is still clinging to his old King Steve prejudices, because why on earth would he think Steve was in love with him? Which he was, by the way. Steve didn’t think he could ever truly stop at this point.

When Chrissy Cunningham dies, Steve’s world turns upside down (no pun intended). It’s why he throws himself so easily into looking for Eddie, despite his half hearted protests. Because what the fuck had even happened?? Eddie cried when Steve used to kill spiders, he could not stomach such a vicious murder.

Eddie throwing him up against the wall when they find him doesn’t scare Steve (it does something though), but the fear in his eyes does. It stings a little that he doesn’t trust him, but it’s been years, and Steve was kind of a jackass for most of them so he doesn’t altogether blame Eddie.

He does feel like running was a little dumb, but he knows all too well how much Eddie likes to run from things. He hates leaving Eddie in Rick’s boatshed, but he knows that even if he could stay without arousing suspicion, eddie would never let him.

The whole lovers lake debacle deeply confuses Steve. First Eddie almost dislocates his eyeballs staring at Steve’s bare chest, and looks like he’s going to pass out when Steve throws his shirt at him, jumps in after him, gives Steve his BATTLE VEST (the one Steve himself helped make, and fully knows the meaning of) then tries to convince Steve to get Nancy back????

Safe to say Steve’s brain feels a little scrambled.

He blames his whole ‘nuggets’ speech in the rv on that. Because honestly what the hell was he even thinking??

Steve doesn’t think about what happens next.

Doesn’t think about desperately wanting to kiss Eddie when he stops him outside the trailer.

Doesn’t think about the fact that he wasted might be his last moments with him to tell Eddie that he never stopped loving him. That he wants to forget the last few years and just pick back up where they left off.

Doesn’t think about how worried he is leaving him and Dustin there alone.

Doesn’t think about how fucking cool Eddie is now, when he hears master of puppets blasting across the upside down.

Doesn’t think about how much he regrets not saying anything when the vines have him in the creel house.

Definitely doesn’t think about hearing dustins heartbroken wails as they reach the trailer park.

Doesn’t think about the love of his life, lying broken in a pool of his own blood in a nightmare dimension.

Doesn’t think about touching him for the first time in years to lift his dead body and heft it through the portal.

He goes home. And in the shower, he thinks far too much. Stays sat on the shower floor so long that the water would have ran cold, were he in eddies cozy trailer rather than his big tomb of a house with its endless supply of hot water.

He thinks, and thinks, and thinks. Thinks until robin finds him, waterlogged yet dehydrated from crying in his en suite. She has no idea what’s going on, but lifts him out and gets him dry and dressed.

He finally explains everything to her. She cries but he’s out of tears.

Steve doesn’t think he’ll cry again for a long, long time.

#long post #sorry for this lmao #I made myself cry writing this #you can imagine whatever you like after this but imo they find Eddie in the upside down and Steve does his best to kiss him to death #Dustin is confused and horrified #robin cries again #Nancy is deeply confused and offended but whatever #she can cope #you can think what you’d like but Nancy would go on a weird rant about Steve ‘using’ her or whatever #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steveddie

[sandinthepipes]

As someone who has a brain I understand the kiss is the furthest it can be from a romantic kiss, it doesn’t define their romance, it’s not romantic BECAUSE they kissed.

As a neglected queer, endlessly made fun of for seeing things that “weren’t there”, as somebody who learned to destroy their hope before it’s even there because in the end it’s just better to lock myself in an empty dark room, unable to feel anything, then being relentlessly bullied. That kiss is everything. That kiss is the revenge after a childhood of abuse. That kiss is history. That kiss is the unquestionable proof, black on white, that their relationship is meant to be read as romantic, and nobody can take it away. That kiss means that all that subtext you picked up on. Wasn’t. Fucking. Subtext.

A queer show can just be a regular show. It’s not segregated anymore.

#I made myself cry writing this #BUT IT’S TRUE DO YOU REALIZE WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY IT IS HISTORY #I made my mother watch both ofmd and good omens (since season one because I just thought it was neat and then) #and both times I held my breath for the kiss looking at her reactions like ‘do you see this??? you’re not queer and you’re enjoying this!!! #how amazing is that??? I’m just as notìrmal as you!! look at how society changes!!! you’re witnessing history!! #yeah I’m a little fucked up #having your most impressionable years dictated by the infamous most known queer baited show in their golden age does that to you #and maybe also being surrounded by homophobia while growing up #anyway th post was originally about good omens #but also applies to ofmd #good omens #ofmd #our flag means death #ineffable husbands #blackstede #gentlebeard #queerbaiting

[lukecastellanshandholder]

Recently I've been thinking about how after everything happened and after Luke died, May didn't find out. Hermes wouldn't go and visit her because, "he wouldn't want to drive her into another fit of insanity by showing his face around her" but, we all know that it's only because he'd feel more guilty about everything that he has caused.

In consequence, there is no one that could break the news to her that her precious baby boy. The one thing that she loves more than anything in this world, is gone. That he had to sacrifice himself to try and make some sort of difference in their cruel, unfair world.

So, that means that until the end of her life , she spends every single day living in the delusion that her sweet son will come walking through the front door any minute now. Every single day she slaves away in the kitchen to make her son's favorite foods. Looking at the pan of burnt cookies, the moldy PB &J sandwiches and the pitcher of Kool aid that sit in front of an empty chair at the dining table. She looks at the clock that has long since stopped ticking, reassuring herself that Luke will be home soon, he's just running a bit late.

On her deathbed, she thinks about how Luke should hurry home soon. She wants to see him just one more time. It's all she's ever wanted for all these years. And right before her soul leaves her and she gets one final moment of mental clarity, she realizes that she'll never get to see her son again and she spends her last breath praying that Luke's at least ok and living the happy life that he deserved.

#... I'm so sorry #i made myself cry writing this #i'm 🤧🤧🤧 #percy jackon and the olympians #pjoverse #percy jackson #luke castellan #may castellan #pjo hoo toa #angst

[dont-touch-my-soup]

Hope is a Dangerous Thing

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CW: captivity, aftermath of trauma, everyone is sad, confused, hurt, scared and generally unhappy

Days blurred into each other, and Jinn did his best to stay busy.

Nights were harder. Nights were impossible.

And the lack of sleep was starting to get a problem. His head was throbbing, and his left eye didn’t stop twitching and he had trouble to remember his lines. He had tried to catch some sleep during daylight but then he’d been late for a rehearsal and the punishment had been worse than his eternal exhaustion.

It was nine days since Kell ... he tried not to think about it.

Jinn had never felt so lonely. He hadn’t realised how much he had depended on Kell and even though he’d have never believed it possible, Robin had become even worse as well. Jinn tried to avoid her as much as he could.

The day felt so much longer than usual, and Jinn desperately wanted to withdraw to his room. Practice would be horrible. Panic settled into a heavy knot deep down his gut just thinking about it.

It wasn’t really anybody’s fault, but they were just not enough to close the hole Kell and Thrasher had left.

His heart twisted in his chest and he tried not to think about them, but just before practice was about to start, a movement in the corner of his eye made him turn.

He felt cold and hot at the same time.

Kell was standing in the entrance. His face looked haunted, his eyes glazed and empty.

For a moment he was convinced he was imagining things. Could sleeplessness cause hallucinations? He looked over to the others. Everyone was staring at Kell.

Jinn started for him, but a hand held him back.

“Give him some space,” Koel said, before Jinn could tear out of her grip.

Kell didn’t look up while heading to his usual spot.

Jinn felt frozen. Numb. He couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. The coldness creeped up his limbs until it closed around his heart. He was trembling so violently it was hard to keep his weight on his feet.

He missed the cue, and he was glad Oryn wasn’t here. He tried to concentrate but it was hard, when Kell was standing just out of reach.

Questions bubbled up in his mind and he couldn’t stop staring at him.

Was he okay? Of course, he wasn’t. He measured him with his gaze. There were no visible injuries except for a bandage on his left hand, but Jinn knew how bad his arms had looked a few days ago and he was anxious about what else he was hiding under his clothes.

What had happened in the last few days? Jinn wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. He had survived. That was all that mattered. Right?

Kell hadn’t even looked at him. He hadn’t looked at anyone or anything for that matter. It reminded Jinn too much of Blackbird.

What had Oryn done to him?

As soon as they were dismissed Kell fled the room.

He was avoiding Jinn. The thought ripped a hole in his heart. Maybe Koel was right. Maybe he should give him some time.

He’d survived. But still he was gone.

***

When Jinn opened his door, he froze. The room wasn’t empty. Kell was standing at the window. He turned around when Jinn stepped inside.

Their gazes met. Kell’s eyes were empty, and desperation tugged on Jinn’s heart. What if there was nothing left of him inside?

Then something in Kell’s eyes flickered and Jinn was moving before he was even aware of what he was doing. And then he was directly in front of him.

His face was pale and there were dark shadows under both of his eyes. He hadn’t moved. He looked haunted and his eyes were jumping over Jinn as if he was searching for something.

Jinn’s chest was aching. He didn’t know what to do.

“Kell,” he whispered. His name sounded like a question.

Kell’s gaze snapped up to his face and his eyes were screaming.

“Kell,” Jinn said again. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to do something, but he wasn’t sure if it would just cause him pain. Or maybe he despised him now. Or maybe he couldn’t stand his touch anymore after Blackbird. Or maybe ...

Tears pooled in Kell’s eyes, and his next breath came in a choked shudder. And then suddenly he was sobbing uncontrollably. He dropped forward into Jinn’s arms and together they fell to the ground.

Kell’s head dropped against Jinn’s shoulder and tears almost immediately soaked through Jinn’s clothes.

“Kell,” he whispered, pressing his arms around him.

Kell was violently shaking under his touch. His sobs tore the silence and his hands held onto Jinn for dear life and Jinn’s heart was aching.

He stroked his hand over his back, but otherwise he wasn’t moving.

His hands were shaking too.

He scrambled for words but there was nothing he could say.

“I’m sorry,” Kell finally sobbed into Jinn’s sleeve.

“There is nothing ... nothing you have to be sorry about,” Jinn said. “I am the one who has to apologize. I should have told-...”

“Don’t,” Kell said. “I don’t ... I’m not ready to hear about it yet.”

It took a long time until Kell had calmed down.

And Jinn couldn’t stop asking himself what he had been forced to do to survive.

Oryn had never let anyone live. But he had made an exception for Kell and Jinn knew this wasn’t over yet.

Not when Oryn knew Kell was a healer.

And Jinn wondered what Oryn needed a healer for.

_________________

Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)    

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#Unsung Heroes #whump writing #fantasy whump #long-term captivity #aftermath of trauma #I made myself cry writing this

[multifandomrandomgirl]

The Ropes That Bind Us PART TWO - Peter Tork x Female reader

Masterlist

Part One

Back at the pad, the other three Monkees had begun to worry about their bandmate. It had now been seven hours since the bassist set out to buy a loaf of bread, he hadn’t returned by dinner which was unusual and a cause of concern.

“Peter never misses a meal, even when he’s ill! Something must have happened to him.” Michael paced back and forth, fiddling with the pom-pom on his green wool hat.

“You’re right, but what this time?” Micky threw himself onto the couch dramatically, causing Michael to roll his eyes, although he knew that the younger man was trying to lighten the mood, he really didn’t have the patience for humour right now. Their bassist was missing, poor Peter who couldn’t hurt a fly had disappeared. He could be anywhere, and knowing the blond boy’s luck and naivety, he had most likely been kidnapped again, he could be getting tortured. 

Michael felt a pang of pain and fear in his chest, he and the other two had taken ages to notice that Peter had gone missing, he knew that Pete would be scared, he was probably alone, being hurt. Peter often ended up in these situations, but everytime, Michael managed to remain calm with him. He knew that Peter didn’t mean to end up in trouble but a lot of the criminals that abducted him realised just how kind he was and took advantage of him that way in order to take him.

The last time it happened, six months ago, Peter had been taking a walk on the beach when an old man (who had turned out to not be that old at all) had pretended to fall over, Peter being Peter immediately ran over to help the man and offered to walk him home so that he didn’t get further hurt, anyone else would probably have seen through the awful disguise, however, Pete had fallen straight into the trap, the abductor was initially shocked at how easy it was to take the lad, but either way, he’d won and tricked him into coming back with him.

Once they’d reached the ‘elderly’ man’s house, Peter had been grabbed instantly, he was hit and kicked and then tied to a chair and gagged because he wouldn’t stop rambling to one of his torturers about the piano and how much he loves dogs.

When the boys had finally found him, he was a mess, covered in bruises, cuts, and rope burns. He also had a few cracked ribs. He had a few large bruises on his face, his lip was bust and his eyes were black. Michael remembered having to carry Peter to the Monkeemobile after they rescued him, he remembered Pete’s arms around his neck, face buried into the Texan’s chest whilst sobbing. He didn’t think he was ever going to see his bandmates again. 

Mike remembered his heart shattering as Pete kept apologising, they all reassured him that it really wasn’t his fault at all, but Peter refused to believe it (“If I wasn’t such a dummy-” he had started before Davy cut him off). Michael’s heart broke again that evening when he went to check up on him, Peter was curled up in his bed, his hair spread across the pillow just enough for Mike to see his tear-stained face, he looked so vulnerable in the moment, he looked just like a child. Michael sat at the edge of Pete’s bed and he gently brushed his fingers over the older man’s face before placing a small kiss on his forehead.

----

“Mike? Hey, Michael?” Davy snapped his fingers, gaining the attention of his bandmate.

“Shit, sorry Davy. I just - I’m so scared it’s gonna be like last time, he was so hurt, Davy. He doesn’t deserve- he’s so sweet and adorable. Who the fuck could look at Peter and want to hurt him? He was so broken for so long after, he really wasn’t our Pete. What if it’s worse this time? What if he’s dead? Guys, last time was so bad, it can’t happen again. We have to find him. I can’t handle him being that hurt again. I’m terrified something really bad could happen to him.” Mike stormed over to the table and grabbed the keys to the Monkeemobile before gesturing to the guys to follow him to their car.

They drove around for hours, shouting Pete’s name at the top of their lungs and stopping and asking various people whether or not they’d seen him - they had no luck at all, Mike got out of their car and slammed the door, before kicking so rubbish aggressively, Micky and Davy glanced at each other, they were worried for Peter too, but Michael was like everyone’s mum, and a complete worry wart.

“Michael, listen, we’ll find him. We always do. We just need a plan.” Micky got out after him and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Right, a plan.” Mike sniffled, Micky could see the tears forming in the guitarist's eyes and pulled him in for a hug, which only made Michael cry harder. Micky glanced over to Davy, this was a whole new level of concern. They’d rarely seen the Texan cry, Mike was brilliant at bottling up his emotions, but this, this was different. Michael was really upset about this, Micky knew he blamed himself as Michael had let him go out alone. Micky rubbed circles on his friend's back in an attempt to calm him down.

“We’ll find Pete, don’t you worry.”

#peter tork #the monkees #peter tork is so adorable omfg #micky dolenz #michael nesmith #davy jones #i made myself cry writing this #mr babbit

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

c!Tubbo doing up c!Tommy’s messy, overlong hair in braids for the last time before he walks into the prison thatd be his tomb, so c!Tommy can feel like a person again at least for the half hour he had left… the weight makes c!Tommy feel the love of his best friend until the final embrace of nuclear fire comes down…

#I made myself cry writing this #dream smp #clingyduo

[ryla-starc]

☾✦𝗚𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗚✧☽ 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣 𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲

—☽✦✧☾—

𝖥𝖠𝖭𝖣𝖮𝖬: 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘉𝘓𝘈𝘊𝘒 𝘗𝘏𝘖𝘕𝘌

𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖤𝖱: 𝘎𝘙𝘐𝘍𝘍𝘐𝘕 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘎

𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖱𝖤: 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣 𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲: 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖨𝖫𝖤𝖱𝖲, 𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖳, 𝖡𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖥 𝖣𝖨𝖲𝖢𝖱𝖨𝖯𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 𝖮𝖥 𝖦𝖮𝖱𝖤

—☽✦✧☾—

𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

☽✦✧☾ Griffin Alexandre Stagg was born on May 25 in 1966, making him a Gemini. After his parents divorced, Griffin’s mother changed his surname to her own, Stagg. His father, Gareth, works as a private investigator and lives out of Denver (one of the reasons they divorced). His mother, Dinah, works as a waitress in a diner and always takes extra shifts to provide for the both of them. Despite Dinah always working, Griffin loves his mother and respects her for how hardworking she is. Griffin and his father aren’t very close because Gareth rarely calls and when he does it’s always awkward and short.

☽✦✧☾ Griffin has always had a love for learning, rather it be history from thick textbooks or how to pick a lock with a toothpick, he doesn’t care. With this, he loves to read and is very good at English literature, he can write a whole essay blindfolded and still speak like he was best buddies with William Shakespeare.

☽✦✧☾ On the weekends when Dinah is at work, Griffin will sometimes go to the diner and sit at the booths while reading. He has a specific booth by the window that has a clear view of the entire restaurant, and when someone else sits there he gets uncomfortable and will most likely end up leaving for the library.

☽✦✧☾ On the rare days where Dinah isn’t at work and doesn’t have to go in, Griffin and her will have a ‘fun day’ together. After his mother catches up on some much-needed sleep, they play a game of cards in their small apartment’s living room. (Griffin is 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 good at poker, don’t bet money against him unless you wanna go broke). Griffin and Dinah always end up getting lunch together, and it’s always the same hamburgers and soda because it’s his favorite. For dinner, they buy the ingredients and cook together and sit at the bar while talking about their week. It’s moments like this that Griffin cherishes and promises to never forget.

☽✦✧☾ At school, Griffin is a bit of an ‘outcast’ and tends to keep to himself. He prefers to be independent so he can gets his work done quickly and quietly. His favorite classes are history and literature, he’s not a big fan of math and science because they’re his weak points.

☽✦✧☾ Griffin has some sensory issues. He hates his clothes being wet in any situation, he’d rather sweat away into a heatstroke than go to the public pool. He hates his feet being bare and 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 needs socks.

☽✦✧☾ Griffin has always hated loud noises. Certain sounds that consist of being high-pitched and long tend to make him wince as if he’s been hit. If a loud noise (ex; something falling) manages to surprise him, he’ll jump and stare at that spot for a few seconds before continuing what he was doing.

☽✦✧☾ Griffin is very smart and observant. Unless it’s time tables and evolution, then he’s out ✌️ 🚶 🚪. Griffin tends to people watch every where he goes. At the diner, in the cafeteria, at the library, everywhere. He probably knows a person’s next motive before they do. (With this, he’s very skilled in reading body language).

☽✦✧☾ Some of his many hyper fixations are ancient civilization, architecture and body language. Griffin loves to watch construction workers on buildings because it’s just 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭.

☽✦✧☾ (Like stated in my other post’s) Griffin is a menace and a little asshole. He is so sarcastic but he says it with a straight face so you can never tell if he’s joking or not. If he wasn’t so socially awkward, he would correct the teacher’s when they’re wrong about a subject.

☽✦✧☾ Griffin has a lot of odd skills. Lock picking? Peace of cake. Hot-wiring cars? No problem! Replacing the entire plumbing system of your bathroom sink? Give him ten minutes. Griffin loves to learn, so he knows how to do a little bit of everything (except math and science).

☽✦✧☾ Griffin has a mild allergy to eggs. He grew up eating them a lot with his mom, but now if he doesn’t eat them boiled, they give him headaches.

☽✦✧☾ He’s not a big fan of music. He prefers things to be quite so he can predict what’s happening and how it will.

☽✦✧☾ If you asked what his favorite color was, Griffin would say he didn’t know, but it’s actually lace cream. Or any shade of cream and light brown, he doesn’t know why.

☽✦✧☾ Griffin has always wanted a dog. A male German Shepherd with brown and black fur that he could name ‘Caesar’, but because of his family’s financial situation, he stopped asking.

☽✦✧☾ His favorite foods consist of hamburgers with pickled and ketchup, Apple juice and Fruit Roll-Ups.

—☽✦✧☾—

𝗣𝗥𝗘/𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧! 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡

☽✦✧☾ It was in Winter, 1977 when Griffin Stagg went missing. It was in early January when he was biking home from school when a black van pulled over towards him. The man asked for directions and when Griffin showed him on the map, he was sprayed with the Wasp Poison. He didn’t know it at the time, but Dinah was going to surprise him with the exact puppy he had always wanted.

☽✦✧☾ Unfortunately for Griffin, he only lasted two days in the Grabber’s basement. Between him falling for the cruel game of Naughty Boy and only being fed scrambled eggs, he was eventually murdered by having his throat slit.

☽✦✧☾ When the Grabber was killed, Griffin’s mother had an official funeral. Grandparents and some extended family showed up, even Griffin’s father. His gravestone was granite and had his favorite literature quote engraved in his hand writing. Every week, Dinah Stagg visits to his grave with Caesar the dog and leaves flowers. Because she can never choke out any words, she chooses to leave letters talking about her days and week.

#head canons #the black phone #the black phone head canons #Griffin stagg #Griffin stagg head canons #Griffin the menace #Griffin stagg is done so dirty by this fandom #I made myself cry writing this #I didn’t realize how autism coded Griffin was until I was editing this but oh well

[itskenickie]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shinazugawa Genya & Shinazugawa Sanemi Characters: Shinazugawa Sanemi, Shinazugawa Genya Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Light Angst, Sibling Bonding, Protective Siblings, Protective Shinazugawa Sanemi, Soft Shinazugawa Sanemi, De-Aged Genya, Song Lyrics, sanegiyuu blink and you miss it Summary:

They spent their whole day at the beach, laughing and having a good time. It is a bonding moment that Sanemi and Genya will remember for the rest of their lives no matter what happens to them.

As long as they have each other, then nothing can bring them down.

#i made myself cry writing this #sanemi #genya #sanemi and genya #demon slayer oneshots #let's cry together <3333

[rapha-reads]

So... Do you guys remember when I discovered DDLJ in January, and became obsessed with the movie and the songs (and then with Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol...) ?

Welp. I might have written a fic in a matter of days. It's taken me until now, editing, erasing, changing, tweaking, but I'm finally satisfied enough with it.

I'm very nervous about it, so if you read it and like it, please, leave a kudo or even a comment!

#rapha talks #rapha writes #my writing #fanfiction #dilwale dulhania le jayenge #ddlj #bollywood #raj and simran #shahrukh khan #kajol #raj malhotra #simran singh #post canon #6k words #it's the longest of my 4 currently posted works #not the longest thing i've written by far but it matters a lot to me #i made myself cry writing this #please comment

[cryoexorcist]

TW: major character death

Xiao is not doing well anymore. Chongyun had noticed long before now that the yaksha was slipping. They tried to help, but some things just aren’t meant to be, and some people aren’t meant to be saved. It’s even harder to watch Xiao try his best to hang on for Zhongli, for the traveler, for Liyue, but everyone knows the clock is ticking, and the timer on the karmic debt is running out.

Chongyun had started wondering if Xiao would pass on his own, but that thought is squashed when Xiao approaches him with a request that Chongyun wishes he never had to hear.

“My final wish is for you to end it for me.”

Chongyun can see how the karmic debt is tearing the yaksha apart. Even at the request, Chongyun can see the pain in Xiao’s eyes, the way his shoulders are slumped forward, the way his fingers tremble. Chongyun wants to take his hands in their own and try their hardest to comfort him, but instead, Chongyun simply nods.

One wonders why Xiao came to him. Chongyun had almost expected Xiao to ask the traveler or Zhongli, but perhaps there’s a certain honor in this question, though Chongyun certainly doesn’t feel it. It’s as if their vision had completely enveloped them, freezing them in a solid brick of ice that Chongyun doesn’t want to escape from.

Chongyun says nothing as he gets up and trudges back home to pack. Xiao watches them leave, stating he’ll be waiting at the edge of town for Chongyun. With a nod of acknowledgement, Chongyun walks away, still trying to comprehend the request. Order? Their head is spinning over it, and this almost feels like a dream.

Along the way, Chongyun nearly runs into Zhongli. It’s like Zhongli can see the emotions on Chongyun’s face, because he’s stopping Chongyun to voice his concerns. Chongyun swallows once, twice, then licks his lips.

“Xiao’s dying,” Chongyun says simply. Maybe Zhongli already knew. Of course he knows; the two are like father and son. Zhongli nods in Chongyun’s direction before jerking his head toward the exorcist’s home. The man states he’ll be waiting next to Xiao when Chongyun returns.

The next few hours pass by in a blur. Chongyun barely remembers packing, or even saying anything to their clan. Their thoughts so too busy spinning and weaving around each other in a convoluted mess that Chongyun can’t keep track of. Should they ask  Zhongli to take care of it instead? No, that wouldn’t be right. Chongyun had entered a contract with Xiao the second the yaksha asked for Chongyun’s help. Zhongli would not forgive Chongyun if they tried to get out of this task.

Before Chongyun is aware of himself again, they’re approaching the pair waiting for him. Both are watching him, though Xiao is leaning heavily against Zhongli, with the archon holding him up. It serves as another harsh reminder that this is the last time Chongyun will see him. They’ll cling to the mental image of Xiao standing tall, sure of himself even in his worst moments.

Zhongli’s leading the way. Where they’re going, is somewhere completely isolated, far away from any prying eyes. This is almost sacred, a ritual that Chongyun alone has been tasked with. The location naturally needs to be special, on the highest peak in Liyue.

It’s well past midnight when they arrive. Xiao is carefully lowered to the ground, where he immediately curls up in pain, before reaching out to grip Zhongli’s hand. Chongyun kneels down next to him, setting their claymore down next to them.

“Xiao-”

“I know how you feel,” Xiao says, cutting Chongyun off. “I know you love me.” His words are raspy and weak, filled with fatigue. He still manages to lift a hand, cupping it to Chongyun’s cheek. “You will carry on for me. Do not let me down. Do not let this nation down.”

Tears brim in Chongyun’s eyes as he cups his hand over Xiao’s. That’s all that needs to be said, really. There doesn’t need to be a last minute declaration of love; it’s shown in Xiao’s actions that he cares, maybe even loves Chongyun in turn. Chongyun will never know.

Chongyun wants to linger like this for awhile yet. He wants to hold Xiao’s hand, try to take his pain and make it easier, but each minute that passes is more pain for the adeptus.

“Do it,” Zhongli commands. With a shaky sigh, Chongyun pulls back from Xiao’s hand, watching it fall limply to the ground. Reeling back, they pick their claymore up, using it to get back to their feet. Even now, Chongyun feels heavy, like gravity itself is tugging Chongyun down into the earth to hold him there.

They strike.

The blade is wedged into the yaksha’s chest, impaling him. Zhongli’s still holding Xiao’s hand and whispering to him, wiping away tears from Xiao’s face. The yaksha looks back and forth between the two, before going limp for good, light fading from his eyes.

For a few seconds, Chongyun waits, in case this is some sort of test. When he sees Zhongli crying silently, they know this is real, and Chongyun had just slain the person he cares about above anyone else.

Xiao is dead, and Chongyun, the executioner.

Chongyun crumbles down, falling onto their knees as they hunch over Xiao’s body, sobbing into his chest. Chongyun wants so desperately to feel a weak hand cupping his cheek, or to hear Xiao’s final words to him. He would even take the familiar beratement, but there is nothing.

Not even Zhongli is making noise.

All Chongyun can hear now is the sound of their own muffled grief and the sound of wind rushing by. There’s no sense of peace, no feelings of acceptance. Chongyun had not once wanted to do this, but it had been done anyway.

“Go home, Chongyun.” Zhongli’s voice is soft, but firm. The dismissal feels like an extra slap to the face in the wake of this, but Chongyun understands all the same. No doubt Zhongli wants to take Xiao to hold a private, sacred funeral with the adepti, and Chongyun would only be impeding.

“I can’t go home,” Chongyun struggles to say.

There’s a hand on his shoulder. Zhongli’s trying to offer comfort, but it feels empty. No words are exchanged, but Chongyun gathers his things and starts the climb down.

He’s not going home, not for awhile. Where they do go, they don’t know. But maybe they’ll leave Liyue entirely for awhile. Self exile is not the healthiest way to cope with grief, but-

It’s the path that Chongyun is going to follow.

#drabbles #angst cw #major character death #i made myself cry writing this #some xiaoyun in here too #ic.

[asimpforthe80s]

This was the death of Eddie Munson

Warning: not Canon. Heavy angst. Character dying. Male kissing at the end. Crying- a lot of crying.

A/N: God, I cried even writing this!

Steve had been asleep when he heard a knock at the window beside his bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked to see who it was-

*Eddie Munson*.

He felt the sleepiness snap away and he jolted up. How is this possible- Eddie had *died*.

Steve opened the window hurriedly, “Munson, what-?”

…somethings.. different. "S.. steve.. that's.. you, right?" He opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. There was something odd about the way Eddie was.. speaking.

His voice? More melodic. But-

He shook those thoughts from his head. He focused on the fact that Eddie was back.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. How..how are..?”

"Steve.. I just.. ugh.." You were holding your lover stomach with your left arm. You seemed.. in pain. His eyes scanned Eddie’s stomach, the hand. He felt his heart break when it hit him- Eddie was-

He cut his thoughts short.

He felt an itch, deep down, that he knew what this really was. He swallowed hard, “Yeah, you don’t look very good.. maybe.. maybe you should sit down.”

"N-no, that makes it worse-" His eyes snapped up to Eddie. He felt a spike of panic run through every cell of his body, but he managed to mask it with his tone of voice, “Right. What makes you feel better? The couch?”

It was a couch Steve wasn’t using- and Eddie was looking more and more in pain as every second passed. "Standing up?"

“Okay. Sure.”

He offered a hand to Eddie. After a second, Eddie took it and Steve helped him stand. As if his legs weren’t steady enough on their own.

He felt his heart beating out of his chest.

Suddenly, he thought of that *itch*. "You got any medical boxes, Harrington?"

“Yeah! Um, downstairs, follow me!”

He rushed down the stairs, and practically forced Eddie over to the cabinet beneath the sink. It usually had extra detergent, bleach, and cleaning supplies, and… first aid?

That was the itch.

He grabbed the first aid kit and practically threw it at Eddie. "God.. thanks, I might be dyin'.." you said casually as you went through the box, trying to find rubbing alcohol and bandages. The way Eddie said that sent a chill through Steve.

He felt a bead of fear roll down his spine- and he had to know.

He blurted out, “Did… did you come back for me?”

God, he could sound like a fool sometimes. But he needed to know. "Why wouldn't I?" That made his heartbeat a little faster. “I just- you went through so much.. “

He felt his mouth go dry. “Why *did* you come back?”

He wanted to know. "I don't wanna die!" The answer was not what he was expecting- it also didn’t answer his question, which was now a nagging *itch* in his head.

“I mean, yes. Of course, I don’t want you to die!! But like… is there a special reason-“

"Steve.. not now, I'm kinda dying." You grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a roll of bandages and went into his bathroom.“Oh, of course, sorry!” He felt sheepish suddenly. Eddie *did* just die- and he was being a little insensitive.

His brain was screaming at him to go ask again- but he could hear the pain and desperation in Eddie’s voice.

He backed off.

“Are you okay in there?” He called out. "Yeah, yeah, yeah- ah, fuck!.. jus.. just fine.." He heard the rustle of cloth- and then a loud *thud* a moment later. His heart stopped.

“Eddie? Eddie, you okay?”

"Huh?.. y-yep.. I'm fine.. uh.. are you okay with blood..? Quite a lot of it..?" His eyes widened and he felt himself shake his head in response at the question, “That depends- *a lot* of blood? I’m fine with blood- but, uh- “

He trailed off, not knowing how to finish. The idea of Eddie.. bleeding out in his bathroom was something he didn’t want to think about- "Like.. a third of the blood in my body?" Steve was speechless.

He felt his world spin suddenly.

The only response he could muster was this;

“Are you…?”

"Hm?" *Oh no..*

“You’re-“

He trailed off. He needed to say the words though, he had to get it out.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you”

"WHAT?! Steve I'm a guy!" Steve stopped moving for a moment. He felt his heart beat faster and faster as it hit him.

He was an idiot- Eddie was a fellow guy, after all. But then- why was he saying he had so much blood?

“Ah-“

He felt stupid. But then his heart sank as the realization hit him.

“You have a… a stab wound, then?”

"Multiple!" Steve felt the blood drain from his face, “W-w-what?!”

He felt his heart pounding in his ears suddenly, “Do you- we need to get you to a hospital!”

"Hospitals costs too much for me and Wayne.. I'm fixing myself up, Harrington"

“God, do you have any experience fixing yourself up?!” He snapped suddenly. He felt terrified as he thought of the multiple stab wounds Eddie had mentioned- and what they might’ve *hit*.

He didn’t trust his ability to do more than apply a band-aid, never mind anything more serious. "Of fucking course I do! I wouldn't try fixing myself up if I didn't know how to do it... I've got years of experience.."

“Well, that’s reassuring.” He said, not able to keep his worry out of his tone.

“How bad are they-“ he trailed off suddenly. It sounded bad, but he was curious- and his curiosity was getting the best of him. "Uh, the 'fuck, I'm dying' kind if stab wounds?"

“That’s- not good.”

He heard Eddie open the door, and Steve’s jaw dropped. Eddie had bandages all over his body- all of his limbs.

He had a large bandage wrapped around his stomach, and he was leaning against the wall- looking drained.

“Jesus-“

"Yeah.. sorry, I kinda.. got some blood like.. all over?"

“I… yeah,” Steve said with a grimace, “I noticed.”

He looked at Eddie’s stomach, the bandages. He couldn’t hide it any longer- the answer was on the tip of his tongue, and he knew he had to ask.

He gulped in air, and asked, in as gentle a tone as he could muster, “Eddie, why- did they stab your stomach specifically?”

"The demobats just tried to eat me alive, it's nothing special.."

“Nothing special?..”

He paused.

“Eddie, uh, I-“

He felt like an idiot. “Are you- uh, are- are you-“ he trailed off again. His words stuck in his throat, as if he was afraid of *knowing*. "Huh?" His heart was pounding, and he felt like the world was ending.

He blurted out, “Are you pregnant???”

"Steve.. ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!" Steve flinched, and his brain short- Circuited as it processed Eddie’s sudden yelling.

His jaw slowly dropped, and he went silent. His face was a mixture of shock and embarrassment now.

After a long moment of awkward silence, he finally said in a quiet voice, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

"Obviously! We're both guys.. do I have to spell it out to you? I' m a l e!" Steve felt his face go hot with embarrassment and shame. He looked down at his own legs, not making eye contact with Eddie.

“I- yeah, okay, I get it. I know. I’m a dumbass,” he said after a tense moment of silence. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I know damn well that guys can’t get pregnant, so I’m just. Sorry.”

"Exactly.. now you get it.." It was hard for Steve to admit it, but Eddie was right- he had been an idiot, plain and simple. He knew guys couldn’t get pregnant- yet he’d asked anyway.

No shame in asking, but he felt a bit stupid now- as he usually did when he got something wrong.

He cleared his throat, “Okay, uh, next question- what are those bandages on your stomach for?”

"Uh.. you're stupid as fuck.. is this because it's like.. 3 am?" It was close to that time in the early, early morning. He was running on less than two hours of sleep- and Eddie was back. He felt his heart pound in his chest, and he felt tense.

The answer to Eddie’s question was a blunt response- “yes.” But then, he raised an eyebrow- and his words slipped out like water.

“Your stomach, how come it’s-“

"God damnit.. it's because the demobats tried to eat me alive.. Dustin should've said that already.."

“I mean, I *figure* as much- but like, how badly did they-“

He trailed off, he didn’t want to ask again. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart- after all, it wasn’t just Eddie’s wounds that bothered him.

He wanted to know the answer to *his* question- and at this point he was a little too stubborn to let it go. "***LIKE AN ANIMAL EATING ANOTHER ANIMAL ALIVE***" Steve felt his heart skip a beat when the gravity of the question hit him.

The wounds on Eddie’s stomach- had they *shredded* him?

“Oh.”

Was all he managed to get out as his face went white. "I literally said that five minutes ago.. how stupid can you be, Harrington?" He didn’t respond, and Eddie was right- Steve felt stupid.

So stupid in fact, it was all he could do to *not* snap back at Eddie.

But then a new thought hit him- his words tumbled out in a mess, his fear, and excitement, and worry, all tangled up in a knot of emotions that were hard to read.

“Are- are you okay??”

"*no!* That's quite obvious! I've got wounds only dead animals should have, and I was dying ten minutes ago.."

“How did you *not* bleed out?”

He felt fear, and excitement, and a million other emotions as he ran through the questions he wanted to ask- and the realization that Eddie was back.

It took his brain a moment to process it all and figure out what to say.

“Is.. is it okay if I look at the wounds?”

"Go sleep.. 'm takin' the guest room.." Steve felt his heart sink a little as Eddie said that- but he couldn’t blame Eddie. It was late, and if the boy was *bleeding from animal-like wounds* it made sense for them to sleep in separate rooms.

He knew this- but he still felt a pang of hurt in his heart, even as he forced his face to smile.

“Okay, good idea. I-“

A sudden thought hit him.

“Eddie, uh, before you leave. Can I ask you something?”

"Fine, but it better not be stupid" His heart felt like it was going to burst, as if it wanted to fly out of his chest- and it took a ton of courage to even ask.

That question he had wanted to ask all night, it was nagging in his mind- and he needed to ask before he could go to sleep. He needed to know.

“How did you, come back? I… I mean-“ he floundered for a moment, knowing it wasn’t really a good question to ask. “I thought- you were gone. You died.”

"Yeah, uh.. let's take that tomorrow.." Steve’s jaw dropped, and he felt his whole world stopped again.

He knew he was tired, and so was Eddie. And he knew Eddie had already told him he’d answer the question tomorrow.

But..

He felt compelled to ask, his curiosity getting the best of him.

He blurted out, “but, why the hell are you back? Like, you’re- *dead*!! How are-“

"I'm not in my body, okay?! I'm some damn spirit that you can see and hear.. that's what's making your wounds hurt when we talk.." Steve felt a bead of sweat roll down his face, the answer finally sinking in.

He was so sleep deprived that he thought he had imagined Eddie, that the boy was in a bad dream.

Eddie- was dead. A *spirit* now.

A ghost? Steve hadn’t believed in those- not until now.

He felt every fear hit him in an *instant*.

“So… you-“

*Did he have a soul?*

“Are you-“

*Was Eddie here? For real?* "I don't know what happened.. but.. my body.. it's alive.. down in the upside down.." Steve felt himself freeze at that answer. *Alive?*

So Eddie’s *body- the one he’s speaking to right now- the one that’s very much bleeding*- wasn’t *Eddie*.

He felt his brain short circuit as he tried to wrap his head around the idea of… a spirit talking to him.

He felt his stomach drop.

“So, I’m talking to… your *spirit*?”

"I.. don't know.. I'm not dead, but this ain't a physical body" Steve’s jaw went slack.

His eyes went wide, and he felt his heart drop even farther than it had before.

If it wasn’t Eddie- if Eddie was still *alive,* as in *in the upside down- alive- right now..* then who.. *what..*?

His brain raced, and he blurted out, “Are you still Eddie?”

"... how sleep depraved *are* you?" The boy in front of him looked like Eddie, talked like him- but it *wasn’t* Eddie. He had to remind himself of that- he was speaking to Eddie’s spirit.

*Spirit. God, he felt like an idiot now.*

“Pretty damn sleep deprived, but- listen, spirit or not. You sound exactly- exactly like Eddie. I-“

"Yeah, still me, stupid" Steve shook his head.

*If his corpse was still in the upside down… what the hell* was *this?*

But he was too tired now, too sleep deprived to ask further- and it would have to wait until morning.

For now, he had to ask one thing. *One question he *needed* to know the answer to right this very millisecond.*

He paused before saying, “are you- you know, happy to see me?”

"... why you askin'?" Steve felt his heart race, and he tried to steady his voice.

“I was just, uh, wondering if you’re happy to see me. Even though- well, y’know, you’re a spirit, and all…”

He didn’t want to *say it,* he hoped to god that Eddie understood. "Yeah.. 'm happy to see ya.." He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but he felt his *heart melt*.

He was relieved more than words could describe- even if Eddie was a spirit, Eddie was still very much Eddie.

And- Eddie *was happy to see him*. He couldn’t have asked for more.

He cleared his throat, “God, that’s- that’s a relief to hear, Eddie, I- uh-“

"Now.. go.. to.. sleep.. stupid bitch" Steve couldn’t help but laugh, the comment feeling *like Eddie.*

“Yeah, yeah. I will- Jesus Christ, it’s weird talking to a spirit.”

He paused and frowned, looking serious for a second.

“But uh- yeah. I’ll sleep- and we can talk more about this in the morning, okay Ed?”

"My body ain't dead yet, Harrington!" You said with a laugh as you walked out, giving him a yes to talking tomorrow. He felt relieved as Eddie’s spirit walked out- and then laughed a moment later, trying to let out all the energy that had built up in his limbs.

He felt himself yawn and yawn, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

“Ah, screw this- I’ll ask in the morning.”

He climbed into Eddie’s bed and crashed, his head almost instantly falling onto the soft pillow. "Mh?.. why you in mah bed?"

“Because it’s almost 5 in the morning, and I can’t be bothered to get up and go to my own bed.”

He paused, his back hit the mattress.

“Besides, it’s comfy- wait, what the hell am I saying?”

"Pft.. okay" Steve closed his eyes, the exhaustion making him feel almost delirious.

He tried to say more- about Eddie’s body, about where Eddie was, about how it had to be some miracle that Eddie wasn’t dead. But the exhaustion was getting to him now, making his head swim.

He closed his eyes and hoped he was making the right call by sleeping on Eddie’s side of the bed.

The exhaustion hit him too fast, however- his eyes closed. Sleep finally claimed him.

Steve’s eyelids fluttered open, and he felt the bed shift under him as he opened his eyes- and immediately remembered where he was.

He felt his heart pounding in his chest- and then it hit him all at once.

He was in Eddie’s bed. Eddie was a ghost. Ed’s body was in the upside down, alive.

Goddamn, this was going to be a strange morning.

He sat up in bed, and stretched as he tried to regain his composure. He looked around and noticed that you weren't there. *Huh?*

Steve looked around, and then he stood- and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He looked toward the door, which was wide open. And- there were still blood stains *everywhere,* even though Eddie’s ghost was gone..

*Was he in the real world now?*

He tried to figure out how all of this made any sort of sense-

But then, something hit him.

Like a train. A car. A plane flying-

*Eddie’s body was still alive.* About an hour later, a cop came to his house and knocked on the door.

"Hawkins Police, open up" Steve went from 0-100 in about half a second. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, as he quickly walked over to the door.

He opened it, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He wasn’t sure how to act, because *what the hell would he even say?!* “Uh… I…” *Was Eddie alive?* “How can I help you, officer?”

"Do you have any idea who Eddie Munson is?" *Well, damn.*

“Yeah- I- yes, I know Eddie Munson.” He looked shocked, “Why- what happened?”

"He's at the hospital.." Steve felt his heart sink- and then *race.*

“What?! Is he… is he okay? Is he alive-“

"He's alive.." the cop said and mumbled something. “What was that?” Steve leaned in, wanting to hear *everything.*

His entire world had been turned upside down in the last- what, 24 hours?

His brain felt fried. But he had to hear, he had to know what was happening to Eddie. "*for now*" Steve paused, and felt his heart skip a beat. His eyes widened, hearing that word- *for now.*

“*For now*!? What- what do you mean *for now*?”

"He's alive for now.. we don't know if he's gonna survive.. it looked like a damn wolf had tried to eat him alive.." Steve couldn’t help but look worried at that word- *wolf.*

His jaw dropped, and he felt his mind going a million miles a minute.

Eddie had fought a *wolf*? And he was still alive?

He couldn’t believe it for a second.

“Oh Jesus, okay- okay- I- uh… how- is there anything I can do? To help?”

"We can't find anyone willing to be Mr. Munson's guardian at this state, we need you at the hospital if you're willing to come.." Without a second thought, he said, “I’ll meet ya there.”

He shut the door and turned, immediately looking for his shoes- and he put them on.

“What the hell *happened*..?”

"He walked in very hurt.."

“But- but how?”

Even Eddie’s wounds hadn’t been… *that* bad.

Unless Eddie was hiding something. Which was possible, because Eddie was Eddie. He was secretive- he knew things, but he would never say.

And- what was even going on? He would figure that out later, after he got to the hospital.

He picked his keys up off the floor. This was gonna be a long morning. The cop drove away at the same time as him. He quickly got in the car, and he followed the cop. *Jesus*, he thought, *what the hell happened to Eddie?*

As soon as he thought it, another thought crossed his mind. A thought he was afraid to ask- the question burning on his tongue that he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

*Is Eddie going to be okay?*

That simple- that one thought. He didn’t want to ask, to put a jinx on it- not until he saw Eddie with his own two eyes.

*Hospitals and police stations. Two places Steve hated.*

But as they pulled into the hospital parking lot, he suddenly realized- *that wasn’t the worse place for Eddie to be, at this point.*

The car slid into a stop in front of the busy Emergency Room. The cop was the one to get out first, which meant Steve took his time, walking slowly toward the entrance.

He took in his surroundings, trying his best not to look nervous. The nurses came up to him immediately and brought him into one of the rooms. Steve walked in, feeling every heartbeat thudding in his chest. He was still a nervous wreck- but he wanted to see Eddie, he needed to see Eddie.

He could handle seeing Eddie in a bed, hurt- he could handle all of that- as long as he got to *see* him. There was a lot of groaning and crying coming from the room. *it was Eddie* Steve’s eyes widened.

It *was* Eddie. Alive, in pain, but Eddie.

He walked in, and he felt his guts twist as he saw the state Eddie was in. Eddie seemed *broken,* covered in bandages, crying in pain.

He felt tears fill his eyes as his heart went out to Eddie. And- suddenly, a wave of regret filled his soul.

“Eddie… jesus-“

"H-hey, S-steve.. good news.. g-got my b-body back" Steve didn’t know what to say. He felt his throat tighten up, and in the moment, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

So, in a rare move- Steve just.. *hugged Eddie.*

“God, I have a million freaking questions, but- I had no idea you- you were alive... where does.. where does it hurt?"

"E-everywhere.." Steve paused, trying to understand. “Everywhere- Ed, are you-?”

His brain short circuited, as he realized that Eddie had tried to warn him about *something.*

“Eddie, did something- you were trying to tell me something earlier. About something ‘eating ya’ or…” He couldn’t find the right words. “You were trying to tell me about… something.”

"Uh-huh.."

“Eddie, what *is* it?” He paused, then said it plainly. “What can eat you?”

The question burned in his stomach, as he tried to get Eddie to answer it- he needed to know. *Please, please, please don’t be a monster.* "The d-demobats i-i talked about.." Steve’s jaw dropped, his heart racing.

The demo*bats.*

They couldn’t be real- there’s no way.

But in his heart, he knew they were. And- there was one more question he needed the answer to, and he needed it now.

“Eddie… did they- I mean- did they… *hurt* you?”

"Y-eah.." Steve’s mouth shut. And then he asked a question that his mind immediately tried to stop him from saying.

But no matter how many ways he rephrased it in his head, he had to ask it all the same.

“Did they- d-did you lose any limbs?”

God, he hated saying it- but he had to know the state Eddie was in. He had to know how bad Eddie’s wounds were, how bad the damage and the *pain* was. "D-does it look l-like I have both a-arms?" Steve paused.

His mouth dropped, as he tried to hold his tongue.

But- “N-no, Ed, I- I’m sorry.” He said, before immediately regretting it.

“I just- I wanted to make- to make sure. You’re not….”

He felt himself freeze up- and he paused, before he finally finished the thought.

“You’re not dead, Eddie?”

"N-not dead yet.." Steve felt his heart break.

His friend, Ed- he wasn’t dead yet. That was both *good* and *disastrous* at once.

Because if Ed was “not dead yet,” then that meant he was close to death. And- Steve didn’t know what to say.

“Ed…” It was strange for him, speaking to Eddie’s spirit. But he knew he had to say the right words. “You can’t *die,* not like this. Eddie, you know that.”

"No, H-harrington.. I a-aint survivin' t-this one.." Steve felt shock, horror, and *dread* fill his soul. Because- if Eddie said he wasn’t surviving this, he wasn’t.

Eddie wouldn’t say it if he were going to survive.

“W-what are you saying?” Steve said, his voice choking as he stepped closer to the bed.

“What are you meaning, Eddie?”

His eyes went to Eddie’s wounds- the burns and the cuts and the blood.

*Oh god.* "I-i meant what I s-said..." He felt panic begin to rise in his stomach- and he knew he didn’t want to ask this question.

But he didn’t have a choice.

“What- *what* are you saying, Eddie?” He repeated.

The words were already on his tongue, he could feel them. And now, he couldn’t *not* say it.

“Are you dying, Eddie?”

"Heh.. ye-yeah..." His heart sunk, his mouth falling open.

He had known it- he had *feared* it- but now, Eddie was saying it.

“No, Eddie, no, no, no-“

He could feel tears forming at his eyes, but right now, he couldn’t let himself break down. He would go through the motions, he would act the way he had to act, but he wouldn’t let himself crumble.

“Eddie, I- I don’t want you to die. You cannot die, Ed.”

"I don't wa-wanna die either, St-steve.." He felt his jaw shake, as he felt his soul shatter with every second he was in this room.

Eddie was dying. Eddie was dying, and there wasn’t anything Steve could do.

“I- Eddie, I can’t-“ The words came out in a shaky breath.

“I don’t- I- can’t- Eddie…”

He suddenly felt sick- and so he shut up, trying to contain himself as he let his tears fall. "It- it's okay, st-eve.."

“No, Ed, no it isn’t okay.”

He tried to keep his mouth shut but the words just… fell out of him.

“This isn’t okay, Ed, it’s- Eddie, I-“

“*This isn’t okay*.” He said, his tears falling faster. The thought killed him. *Eddie* was dying.

It was awful. Truly awful, and everything in him felt *broken.* "Hey.. take.. t-take care of the l-little sheepies f'me.. o-okay?"

“You-“

He was at a loss for words, and instead of trying, he settled for the most common response, the one that always showed up when he didn’t know how to respond.

“Yeah, Ed.” He said, his voice wavering.

He suddenly remembered what Eddie meant by the sheep - Dustin, Max, Lucas, and the others- and he looked up at Eddie.

“I’ll- I’ll take care of the little sheepies, Ed. Don’t you worry.”

"Yeah... i-i trust ya, s-steve.." Steve felt his throat tighten, and tears begin to fall.

“Thanks.” His voice was shaky, but he still tried to show how much he appreciated Eddie’s gesture.

“I- uh, Eddie…” He was at a loss for words, he didn’t know what to say.

He wanted to say that it was going to be okay. He wanted to promise Ed that it would be okay.

But it wasn’t going to be.

And Eddie knew it too. "I... i-i know it.. a-and no, i-it ain't gonna be o-okay.." Steve gulped, and tears began to fall faster.

He wanted to deny it, to deny what Eddie was saying- but, he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t be okay. Eddie knew it, and Steve knew it.

But maybe- maybe Eddie could be a miracle, just this once. He wanted to hope that- but that was his heart talking, not his mind. Because he knew- Ed couldn’t possibly be a miracle, not when he had burns and wounds all over his body.

Why was this life so cruel to Eddie? "I need a-a miracle.." Steve’s eyes widened, when Eddie spoke.

Eddie was praying- for a miracle.

And with those words, the universe did a funny thing- it seemed to go silent, as if it had its fingers crossed, hoping for the same.

*Could Eddie be the miracle?* It was a stupid thought, it was an impossible thought- but he wanted to believe it.

“Eddie…” His voice was barely a whisper. “I-I think a miracle-“ He tried to stay calm, to remain sane about it. “I think a miracle can happen, Ed.”

"How? H-how, Steve?"

“E-Eddie- I-“ His mind went blank- because, the answer was obvious.

He didn’t want to say the word though- he was afraid of the universe hearing him, and the thing he was afraid of finally happening.

So he took a deep breath, before speaking the words that were on his tongue.

“You know what- a miracle would be, Eddie?” His mouth trembled as he answered. “A miracle would be- y-you surviving this.”

"Yeah.. i-ill believe in miracles i-if I survive.." His heart broke, because Eddie *was* his miracle. He had prayed to the universe, and Steve was praying right alongside him.

“Eddie, I-I-I-“

He didn’t know what to say. But- he knew what he wanted to do.

He wanted to hug Eddie. He wanted to hold him, to let Eddie know that it was going to be okay. But if he did- he knew it wouldn’t help.

So he did the next best thing. He took Eddie’s hand. "Heh.. preparing f'me t-to die already, h-harrington?"

“No! Oh god, no.”

He gulped, and paused.

“Eddie, I just- I- I don’t know what to- what to say- but you need to know that I-“ He tried to keep his words clear, to make them as strong as possible.

“I love you, Eddie.”

He paused, and he said the word he was always afraid to say.

“Eddie, I love you, and- I- and you can *beat* this.”

"Wha.. you.. l-love me..?" Steve felt a wave of fear wash over him. He hadn’t planned it- it had slipped out, almost like a stutter.

Was Eddie going to try to laugh it off?

“N-no, Eddie, please, I-“

He couldn’t let this happen. Eddie couldn’t die *minutes* after he had confessed his love.

“No wait- Eddie- I- I mean- I mean…”

"You.. love me..?" He stopped. He stopped trying to deny it at that point- he tried saying the words, *he tried telling Eddie they weren’t true-*

“Y-yes Ed, goddamn it, I- I love you! Okay?!?”

He blurted it out, and his eyes widened. It finally happened. He- he had said it. He had said the words he had always been afraid of, the words Eddie had always wanted to hear from him.

But Eddie was *dying.* Eddie was dying and he couldn’t die knowing Steve loved him! "C'mere a m-moment.." Steve’s heart was beating at a million miles a second. What was Ed doing- was this a trick? Was Eddie going to make fun of him, was Eddie-

Wait- did Eddie just want to hug him?

As he moved closer to Eddie, tears started to fall- and he opened his arms.

He wasn’t worried about anything if it meant- if it meant getting one more hug- *if it meant getting to be close to Eddie once more…* "Can.. c-can you.. k-kiss me?" His heart skipped a beat.

For a solid minute, Steve stood there, his eyes widening in shock, his body frozen as he tried taking in Eddie’s request.

*Kiss him?*

Eddie asked *him,* to *kiss him?*

Steve looked for the hidden camera- it had to be a prank! But- no, there was no hidden camera. There was just Eddie and his wounded body… and his eyes, which had tears in them, and he looked… broken.

He looked vulnerable.

“Yes, Ed. *Yes.*” You started crying as you felt death creeping into your head. You went limp and stopped seeing things. "*i-i l-love y-you, h-harrington*" were your last words. You had a slight smile on your face as you died, and now it faded away like the life you once had. You heard him but couldn't respond. You wanted to yell. Then everything stopped. You weren't thinking. It was like being asleep. Permanently. He pulled away, feeling tears still fall from his eyes.

He didn’t know if he should close Eddie’s eyes, or-

“Ed?” He asked, feeling his heart break. “Eddie- Ed- Eddie, c’mon, please, c’mon, Eddie, Eddie… Ed, Ed- *Ed, Ed, Ed!* PLEASE!” His voice was breaking as tears flowed down his cheeks. He pushed on Eddie’s chest, trying to make it beat again, trying to get Eddie’s lungs to fill with breath again- He felt his body shake, as his last bit of hope left him. He felt his eyes burn, as he let his tears fall.

He kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and-

He stopped, and his head fell against Eddie’s chest.

He knew that he had died, and he felt his soul break.

“No.” He said, in a voice that was so close to a whisper.

“No, no- please- no, Eddie”

But- the word ‘please’ wouldn’t work.

Because- Eddie was gone..

#eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #eddie munson angst #angst #heartbreak #crying rn #i made myself cry writing this

[the-expatriate]

meta + recovery

[Recovery.

Something that Pari wants so much, but feels that she can never truly attain. After all, it was her own fault that she'd gotten into that mess and that she'd been hurt so much.

Even more so that she'd allowed him to hurt her in the hope that he'd stop.

After all, every time he did it, he'd said he'd never do it again.

It was for three years. And for three years she'd tolerated it.

And now she was picking up the pieces of more than just a broken heart.]

#i made myself cry writing this