#not enough people acknowledge that a lot of the people most hurt by him probably miss him

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Hop & Joyce don't really like or trust Steve & he knows it. He can tell by their behavior towards him. Post spring break from Hell, Steve tears into them both after they insinuate that it's his fault for the kids being hurt. Steve YELLING at them in front of the party bc he is injured more grievously than the kids & he once again protected them, to the detriment of himself.

Joyce & Hop are forced to acknowledge that their behavior was cruel. And they have to apologize but Steve doesn't accept their apology straight away.

I am usually such a sucker for Hopper adopting Steve and treating him as his own that this was really difficult. Like, maybe top 5 most difficult things I have ever written. It's kind of short, but I wanted more of the focus to be on people standing up for Steve and Steve standing up for himself than the actual angsty part. My darling, I hope it lives up to expectations! -Mickala ❤️

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“I guess I just don’t understand how Max ended up like this if Steve was supposed to be protecting them all.”

Joyce’s words echoed in Steve’s head.

She was whispering to Hopper in the waiting room, but it was surprisingly quiet, and easy to hear just about anything.

The kids were asleep on the couches, waiting for any news on Max or Eddie, but the nurses told them it could be hours. Hours were a long time to wait when someone was bleeding out and the other someone had multiple broken bones and was unconscious.

Steve felt untethered, his connection to the earth cut the moment he saw what happened to Eddie, pushed into a dangerous orbit when he saw what happened to Max.

“He’s never really let me down like this. Did you hear Dustin say he thinks he was distracted by Eddie?” Hopper asked quietly.

“What did he mean by that?” Joyce paused. “Oh. Do you think so?” Steve couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t see the way they were having a silent conversation within a conversation. “It wouldn’t be the first time Steve let his romantic feelings get in the way of their safety.”

And that really wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair because he always put these kids who weren’t even his first whenever he could. It wasn’t fair because it wasn’t his job to be perfect. It wasn’t fair because they were the adults who should have been here to help and they weren’t.

He could feel tears building up, his vision getting just blurry enough that he knew he needed to walk away or he would start actually crying, and he couldn’t let anyone see that.

Especially not Joyce and Hopper.

Apparently, they already thought so little of him, he couldn’t possibly show them that he was struggling now.

“I think we’ll have to have a talk with the kids about trusted adults. They seem to rely on him for a lot and maybe if we just explain to them that Steve can’t handle it-”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hopper?” A nurse, thankfully, interrupted them.

Steve turned to see a young nurse, probably barely older than him, standing in the entranceway to the waiting room.

Hopper walked over to her, actually whispering this time, as if what was being said right now was a secret, but not the way he felt about Steve.

He glanced over at Steve, then nodded to the nurse. He called Joyce over to them, whispered something, then they both looked at Steve.

He hated what was happening. He was used to being a disappointment to adults, but in a silent way. His parents weren’t really ever around long enough to show their disappointment for long. Seeing it now, on the faces of people he respected and wanted to impress, hurt.

Hopper started walking over to him, his face serious.

“They have Max stable. She may not wake up from the coma, but they’re hoping she makes a turn for the better soon. Eddie woke up a few minutes ago while they were trying to stitch him up and he kept yelling for you. He isn’t quite stable yet. He passed back out as they were trying to put him on oxygen.”

“But they’re both alive?”

“For now.”

“Can I see Max?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea right now. They’re trying to reach her mom, but the phone lines keep going down. I’m standing in as the adult responsible until she can be contacted.”

“So now you want to be the adult responsible? Not any other time when we needed you?” Erica said from behind them.

She’d been asleep with Lucas and El only a minute ago.

“Erica, it’s fine. I’ll just wait with you guys.”

“No, Steve, it’s not fine.” Erica put her hands on her hips, scowled up at Hopper and Joyce, who had just joined them. “Steve looks out for us every day. Even when the world isn’t trying to end. He drives us to school or from school or to the arcade, he pays for our food at the diner all the time, probably spends all his paychecks on us. And where are the parents? They don’t even know where we are most of the time.”

“But-” Joyce started to interrupt until Erica held up her hand.

“You left your kids to fly to Russia when you knew something weird was going on. You could have died, and then what? You know who would have stepped in? Steve. Because that’s what he does for us. Do you know one of his worst concussions was because he was protecting Lucas and Max from Billy? You know he drove Max everywhere she needed to go all year because she didn’t wanna be around anyone else? How about the fact that without him, we wouldn’t have even been able to get Eddie back here? But sure, blame him for this. It totally makes sense to point the finger at the one person who has protected us over and over again.”

Steve was crying.

The other kids were starting to wake up from her voice getting louder as she spoke, and it didn’t take long for them to realize what was happening.

El and Dustin surrounded Steve, cuddling into his sides to comfort him. He needed it, and he was always willing to accept love from the kids. They so rarely gave it, not because they didn’t love him, but because they were at that age where they didn’t want to.

These kids were his in almost every way that mattered, and he was just grateful that they weren’t hesitating when he needed them most.

“You kids could have died. Steve should have never allowed most of this to happen. He’s the adult, and he let you all go into this without even considering you could die.”

“You think we were just gonna sit around and wait for the adults to handle it? When have we ever done that?” Dustin asked incredulously.

“It’s what you should have done. Steve knows that.”

“Mr. Harrington?” A different nurse was standing in the doorway now, older, definitely less nervous.

“Yes?” Steve responded, wiping his tears away quickly.

“Mr. Munson is in a recovery room. He’s woken up a few times for a minute and each time he’s asked for you. Are you family?”

He was pretty certain hospital policy meant only family could go back, especially during natural disasters, so he lied.

“Yes, he’s my cousin. I can’t reach anyone else yet.”

The nurse smiled, though she probably didn’t quite believe him.

“Right this way, then.”

Dustin tugged on his arm.

“Can I come with you?”

“Sorry,” Steve shook his head. “Not yet. Let me check on him, and I’ll come right back out for you.”

“See? This is what I meant about letting his feelings get in the way! What if we weren’t here? Would you just leave the kids to sit out here alone?”

This time, El spoke up.

“Steve is always putting us first. He can put himself first sometimes. That is allowed.”

Steve wanted to hug her again, but the nurse looked like she was going to walk away, and if he didn’t follow her, he wouldn’t see Eddie.

“Go see him, we’ll be here,” Lucas said from next to Erica.

He nodded at them all, giving them a smile before he followed the nurse without looking back at Hopper or Joyce.

Eddie was asleep when they entered the room, so the nurse whispered to him at the door.

“He’s on a lot of morphine, and he’s still receiving a blood transfusion. He may wake up off and on, but he probably won’t make much sense until they lower the dose. Just be here for him,” she smiled before leaving the room.

Steve turned to Eddie and couldn’t hold back more tears.

He’d let him down. He’d let all of them down.

He was supposed to be the hero, despite the jokes about it all, they all knew he was.

But not this time.

Eddie almost died. Max almost died.

He could feel the bat bite on his stomach burning and itching, like it was already getting infected, but he ignored it.

He could wait.

He sat down on the side of the bed, slowly so he wouldn’t wake Eddie up.

But Eddie’s eyes fluttered open once, then twice, then a third time before they managed to stay open enough to see Steve.

“Stevie?” His voice rasped out, a small smile hidden under his oxygen mask. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Eds.”

He had to be strong, but his brain was so focused on everything he’d done wrong and if he’d just been faster or got out of the vines quicker, Eddie probably wouldn’t be here and Max would be awake and-

“Stop.”

“Hm? Stop what?”

“Bein’ mean.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even said anything else, had he? Was he so exhausted that he was actually talking without realizing it now?

“I’m not even saying anything.”

Maybe it was Eddie hearing things. He knew morphine was pretty intense.

“To yourself.”

“What?”

“Bein’ mean to yourself. In your head.”

“I-”

“‘S okay. Me too sometimes. Just gotta stop.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie’s eyes kept drooping closed as he spoke. He would probably fall back asleep any second.

“I’ll be nice. You get some sleep.”

“You rest?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

Steve couldn’t really rest until he knew everyone was home, safe, and sleeping off some of the worst of their injuries.

“Yes yet.”

Steve snorted. Eddie was so high. He knew it was better than whatever pain he would feel when they eased him off of everything, but hopefully he wouldn’t remember all this.

“Sleep,” Eddie said, his hand managing to find Steve’s and tugging weakly on it.

“I can’t sleep here, Eds. This is your bed.”

“Our bed.”

Steve’s cheeks were hot, he knew if he touched them, they’d feel like fire. Eddie just had that way of completely rendering Steve speechless. He’d done it so many times over the last couple of days, Steve lost count.

“I’ll stay right here until your uncle gets here, okay?”

“And after?”

It probably wasn’t smart. It would look weird for him to stay in general, but he also had to get the kids home, try to patch himself up at home, maybe shower before he did some rounds and made sure everyone was taken care of.

“I have to take care of the kids.”

“But they have parents.”

“Yeah, well.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Hopper walked in, face as serious as Steve had ever seen it.

“I was able to contact your uncle, Eddie. You can go now, Steve.”

But Eddie gripped his hand harder, frowning at Hopper. He seemed more awake all of a sudden, but with the way his eyes kept trying to close, Steve could see it was a challenge.

“I want him here.”

“Eds, it’s fine. He’s not too happy with me right now, so-”

“What? Why? You helped save the world.”

Eddie was looking between Steve and Hopper like an answer would suddenly make itself known, but Hopper was just staring at Eddie, and Steve was just staring at his feet.

He didn’t want to get Eddie involved in this. He just wanted to pretend it never happened, maybe try to look Hopper in the eye again someday, and apologize to Joyce for not keeping the kids as safe as he could have.

But Eddie apparently took the “no running” thing very seriously now.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just. I kinda let them down, didn’t keep everyone safe.”

Steve shrugged it off, but he knew he wasn’t very convincing, or really even shrugging it off. He still felt the ache of disappointing people in his chest.

“Hold the fuck up. You’re serious?”

Eddie sounded as outraged as someone high on morphine could. His voice was barely distorted by the oxygen mask on his face, and his eyes were nearly at their normal size.

Steve couldn’t look at either of them.

“Steve is trusted by all these parents to keep their kids out of danger, and he brought them headfirst into it. It just made Joyce and I wonder how often they were doing stupid things,” Hopper explained, though he didn’t even sound convinced he believed his own words.

Joyce was walking in just as Eddie was about to speak.

“Steve, I think you should bring Dustin home. Claudia is going to get worried.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Eddie was glaring at Joyce and Hopper.

“Let me get this straight. Steve provides free rides, and babysitting services, and meals, and fun for your kids damn near every day. He protects them during this shit every time it happens, literally puts his body on the line to keep them alive. Tried to somehow keep them as safe as possible when it seemed like the world was ending this time, did keep them alive, and you’re still finding reasons to blame him?”

They both had the decency to at least look like they regretted it.

But they still didn’t say anything.

“Fuck this. I’m not gonna pretend to know everything about your little Upside Down Club, but I’m in it now. None of us wanna be here, but we are. Steve’s been doing his best for years, since he was a kid, and all you can do is complain that your sweet angels aren’t completely unscathed? This is a team effort, you know that. They volunteered. Steve would have had to lock them in a prison cell for them not to help.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, watched as he started to lose the fire that had overtaken him temporarily, his eyes dulling as the morphine dripped into his veins and flushed through his system.

“Best damn babysitter…” Eddie mumbled as his eyes fell closed.

Steve watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he suddenly woke up again. When he didn’t, he stood up slowly, didn’t want to risk him feeling the bed move, and made his way to the door.

But something hurt in his chest, something he knew wouldn’t go away unless he said something.

He turned to see Hopper and Joyce staring at each other, having a silent conversation.

“I’m used to disappointing people. I’ve been disappointing my parents my whole life. Disappointed friends, Nancy, bosses. But I have never let those kids down. I do my best with them. I try to be there for them the way I wish someone had been there for me. I make sure they’re kids because life handed them a shitty card or whatever and they deserve to still be kids. You can be mad at me if you want, but I know I did my best. They know I did my best.”

He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to hear them say anything else about how wrong his decisions were.

But Joyce stopped him from leaving the room, hand on his arm.

“Steve, wait. Honey, I’m sorry. I think…I think we got caught up in the moment and just needed someone to blame.”

“You do the best you can. We know you do a lot for them.”

It was nice to hear, but he couldn’t get over the uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he deserved more than that.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can accept the apology right now.” And then the anger really set in. It came over him so fast, he could feel his hands shaking. “A lot of things are out of our control. We all wanna blame someone for this stuff, but it just boils down to the same people over and over. Max is in a coma because of Henry Creel, not me. Eddie is in the hospital because of demon bats, not me. Eleven and Will are connected to the Upside Down because of the government, not me. I’m just trying to be whatever they need, and that’s better than I can say for either of you at this point.” Steve left this time, Joyce dropping her hand from his arm halfway through his loud speech.

Okay, he was yelling.

But Eddie slept through it, and it felt good to get all of that out.

He made his way to the waiting room, hoping everyone would still be there so he could check in.

Everything felt too fresh, too much like Vecna could show back up and take any of them at any moment.

But the waiting room was empty, not even Dustin remained.

Steve did his best not to panic. Their parents had all been contacted, so they most likely had just been picked up and brought home.

“They’ve all been picked up, sugar,” an older nurse said from the front desk.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“They left you a note, though.”

He recognized her as the woman who had been here the whole night, handling phone calls and people walking in like she’d been doing this for decades. Maybe she had been.

He walked over and grabbed it from her, giving her a small smile in thanks.

He walked outside before he opened it, not sure why he was suddenly nervous.

But as he read, he felt tears in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Steve- Go home and sleep. We’ll be okay for a day while you rest. You don’t ever do that. We don’t agree with Joyce and Hopper, and we hope you know you’re the best damn babysitter ever. Love, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, El, Will, Mike, and Max (if she could)

He folded up the note, put it in his pocket, and walked to his car.

He ignored the blood in the backseat, rolled his windows down to ignore the stench of iron.

Knew he would be spending most of his day tomorrow trying to clean the stains out, but figured it would be a good mindless task.

He thought about Eddie, about how quick he was to defend him. About how he’d gripped his hand like it was a lifeline.

It felt that way to Steve.

He hadn’t let Eddie down. He’d saved Eddie.

If he didn’t do anything else right, he’d done that, and nothing Joyce or Hopper said could take that away.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #joyce byers #jim hopper #ficlet #request #some angst but a positive ending #with some cute drugged up eddie #and some overprotective gremlins

[star-anise]

Everyone's got a take, and I've got a take too, about the current Internet Villain: James Somerton, a gay Youtuber who just got exposed (in the back half of a 4-hour video) as massively plagiarizing the work of LGBTQ+ media critics, historians, and memoirists, and then exposed in another 2-hour video as just making up the wildest nonsense about the topics he demonstrably had access to accurate information on.

He achieved a six-figure income on his work by squeezing money out of his audience with claims...

That only he was creating content that preserved queer history and elevated the voices and experiences of the LGBTQ+ community (a lie)

He was in serious financial distress and would have to go out of business if people didn't give him tons of money (a lie)

That he was going to use some of that cash to make definitely good and not-at-all-plagiarized independent movies, a thing he was definitely skilled and experienced enough to do (a lie), and

That those plagiarism allegations were incorrect,, and frankly,,,, hurtful and homophobic. (a GIANT lie)

Like, here's a visualization of the script of one of his videos, "Society and Queer Horror". The highlighted bits were lifted nearly verbatim from the works of others—the 18 authors identified at the time the exposé was posted—and presented as Somerton's own work.

So here's what drives me absolutely up the wall about this:

If he had just ADMITTED that it was the work of other people, THAT WOULD STILL BE COOL. If he had just said, up front, "We are going on a survey of thoughts and insights people have had about this topic", that would still be a good video with a real audience!

Like yes, he studied business in university, he might not have gotten the kinds of research skills and knowledge someone like Kaz Rowe uses to not just report on the history and analysis of others, but evaluate their relative validity and trustworthiness.

But honestly, since watching my niblings (oldest is 13) watch Youtube, I think you honestly can't underestimate the number of viewers who are really hungry for someone saying, "I don't understand this topic! Let's explore it together!"

But NOOOOOOO, Somerton didn't want to be just some schmuck waxing enthusiastic about homoeroticism on film and acknowledging the smartness of other people. He wanted to be HIM, MR. SMARTYBOY, very sophisticated and alluring and thoughtful and deep. Definitely an intellectual heavyweight who just happened to spout off his own personal ideas and analysis that put him at the forefront of all the scholarship on the topic he's come across.

I hate being wrong. Hate being wrong. But blogging for most of my life has forced me to confront constant textual evidence that two or ten or twenty years ago, I said some dumb-ass shit. Honestly, it'd probably keep me up at night sometimes even if I didn't have a written record. I absolutely understand the desire to scan the field, find the coolest people around, and quickly clothe yourself in as perfect an imitation of them as you can manage.

But if you want to be an artist or a scholar who produces something lasting, you can't prioritize coolness over truth all the time. To develop your true, independent voice, you need to find a time and place where it is just you and just the work you're doing, and you have pick up your tools and say, I don't know if I'm doing this right, but this is what feels right to me.

There are a lot of things in life to which we can only truly contribute our presence and our perspectives. Things we can only witness or hold space for. We cannot go back and bleed the pain out of history, or erase the complexity of another person's life. Not honestly, at least.

But those are the times that need our presence, our perspectives, our witness, and our space. When we gather round and tell sad tales about the death of kings, honesty can be the only thing you give that's worth a damn in the large scale of things.

If this dude had owned up to the truth and honestly showed the work of trying to piece together a queer understanding of the world, trying to draw the threads of culture together until he found a place he fit inside them, it would have been so much more valuable to our culture as a whole.

He probably made more money this way, though. While it lasted.

#staranise original #james somerton #plagiarism #lgbt discourse

[fandoms--fluff]

Family Therapist

Female vampire reader x Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: Elijah is your husband and you've been basically the family therapist. Well, one night you both became one for his little brother.

Warnings: mentions of death I think?, mentions of ghosts,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elijah and you have been married for well over 400 years and over time you have gotten used to the family's drama and dynamic.

There have been many times when you acted as the family therapist, and let's not kid ourselves, you still are. Just somehow in weirder ways than some may think.

(But let's also be real, you still have to lecture Klaus out of daggering any of his siblings or hurting them 'just because', being the only one who he actually listens to, which is a miracle by itself.)

A great example is what just happened one night.

Surprising enough, this is the first time you've ever been in a situation like this. It's definitely not the worst or anything of it, but this was very different to say the least.

You were sound asleep in your husband's arms until you hear the door to your guys' room slam open. Both of you separate in alert, but the only danger there is, is the body that crashed between the both of you.

"What the?" You said sleepily and reached over to turn the lamp on.

Once the light lit the room in a yellow glow, you both look at the visitor in your bed.

"Kol? What are you doing?" Elijah asks, surprised that his younger brother is there, without acknowledging one of you.

"Oh you know, just missed my older brother and his wife" his voice was muffled by the pillow he pressed his face in to.

"Uh huh, and how does that explain you gripping onto the blanket for dear life?" You raised your eyebrow at the youngest brother.

"Because it's soft?" He asked unsure, rather than answering you.

"What happened?" You kept your eyebrow raised at the immortal teenager, no way for him to get himself out of this conversation now. Elijah saw that look on your face, knowing, now you won't budge until you get the truth out of Kol.

Kol looked up at you, letting out a huff, seeing no way of getting out of this. At least this is better than Nik, he'd just throw him in a box, he thought.

"I swear I saw someone move in my room, but I couldn't find anything, so I came in here to make sure if the ghost comes back there'll be alibis" he rapidly said, and hid his face back into the pillow, feeling his cheeks starting to turn red.

You and Elijah shared a look of concern before your husband placed a hand on Kol's back. "Kol, you don't have to be embarrassed about that, considering your experience with ghosts in the past, you have a right to react the way you did," he told him.

"Lijah's right, we would never judge you about that. So what if you're a bit wary about ghosts, it's normal, a lot of people are" you added.

Kol's breath hitched before speaking, "Really?" He looked up at both of you.

"Of course" You and Elijah nodded.

He smiled softly before a cheeky grin appeared on his face. "Just so you know, I'm not leaving. And if that ghost takes me, I'd rather have my final moments with you guys over Nik, who would most likely yell at me."

He laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes, knowing that he was laying between you guys. "I know you guys probably want to be laying together and be all cute and couply, but I don't want to think about you two doing anything over pg-13. My poor innocence couldn't handle it" he said and let out an 'oof' when you smacked him with a pillow for the comment.

"Have you ever even been innocent?" You asked and looked at Elijah with amused eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like a tired father that just had to put up with his child. Honestly, he just did, considering what Kol had just said and he can sadly be even more immature.

"Of course I have...like that time...okay maybe when I was human, but that still counts" he mumbles and sticks his tongue out at you. And he hates it when you call him a child? Really?

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson x reader #vampire reader #kol mikaelson #kol needs comfort #kol needs a hug #cute kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x female reader #elijah mikaelson x wife reader #elijah mikaelson x vampire reader #fanfic #cute #writing #imagines #comfort #fluff #thevampirediaries #the vampire diaries #the originals #klaus mikaelson

[espinosaurusrexex]

Tough Luck

MiguelO'Hara x Spiderwoman!Reader

summary: Miguel is the most agitating person in all universes, but somehow, you have fallen for him still. Too bad he realized his feelings towards you when it's too late. Now he needs to fix his mistakes.

a/n: yup... I caved. So here is this because Miguel is literally the only person my heart is beating for at the moment 

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, Miguel is a wannabe tough guy, some angst, and just a lot of fluff, ! I don't know if all the Spanish phrases are correct - please tell me if not !

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

picture is not mine - credid to owner

You pushed through the doors of Miguel’s office and into the hallway with tears burning in your eyes. 

You just wanted to prove yourself. You were capable, a good Spider, exceptional if you could believe Peter B. Parker - but he was a little biased. Yet all you ever got from Miguel was resentment and scolding. 

Not once had he complimented you on a successful mission. Not once had he acknowledged your skills and ideas. Not. Once. 

It was bad enough he was your boss, in a way, and you wanted him to see you belonged amongst all the other heroes in spider society. But of course, through the constant pressure and struggle, your heart had decided to fall for the only person so out of reach - you were sure the universe was laughing at how pathetic it was. 

Because you had a big fat crush on him: Miguel O’Hara. The boss, the big bad grumpy so-sexy-it-hurt guy that seemed to hate your guts. The guy that probably only tolerated you because you were a version of Spider-Man in your universe. 

But he was such a hunk, ugh.

His jaw - so sharp it could cut you if you looked at it for too long, his broad shoulders - those arms, and that deep sexy smolder his mouth did when he was concentrating. All of it sent your body into a frenzy, burning you up from the inside as you tried got fight the urge to jump his bones every time you were in a room together. 

You were so sure to have seen a soft side beneath all the frowns and eye-rolls. Just not for you. 

“I should have never recruited you."

It was embarrassing. The way you so desperately tried to impress him, to have him see you as more than the annoying fuck-up he had to welcome because you were a spider. 

Peter always told you that you did nothing wrong, that Miguel was the way he was with everyone. But it didn’t go past you that his frown seemed to deepen, his eyes rolled a little more, his jaw tensed in anger when he talked to you. 

You never said anything to Peter, though. You didn’t need him to feel bad for you. Not when he had some issues himself and not when all of it was entirely your fault. 

Especially today. 

Okay... you admitted that you had tried to provoke Miguel on the last mission. You figured, if you were to get yelled at anyway, you could just as well do the things you thought the smartest - following protocol or not. It didn’t matter. 

And normally it worked. But this time you had gotten a little distracted. Because as you had swung from the beam of the museum and past Miguel and Jess, the light hit his face just right, making you stare as he angrily squinted at you and causing you to not let go soon enough. It resulted in what felt like a broken rib and maybe a minor head injury. 

But, hey. You’d caught the guy! It was just the exit that lacked grace. 

Not that it mattered anymore anyway. You’d been lacking for over a week now - made so many mistakes, that you'd considered giving up the secret identity thing altogether. It was just exhausting you more - robbing you of valuable sleep (in case it wasn’t plagued with nightmares) and just seemed to be the root of all your problems at the moment. 

You heard Jess call out after you when you pushed through the spider people on your way to a quieter place - ignoring her. 

You just wanted to be alone and not talk to anyone - preferably ever again. 

❁❁❁

It’s just his damn tough luck, Miguel sighed as he shook his head, hands ruffling through his hair. It’s not been enough he had to punish you for flunking the mission, no of course it had come with a generous side of emotional mess. 

Mierda. (shit)

He closed his eyes and could see the tears brimming in yours. How you had tried so hard to stay stoic, how you held your head a little higher when he told you off. But he saw the way your lip quivered when his eyes lit up in angry red - a stutter in his heart he tried to suppress when he pointed a finger at you. 

“What did I tell you? You follow orders or you’re off! I should have never recruited you.” The words still tasted bitter on his tongue. He had gotten too good at it.

Miguel didn’t like it - hated it, in fact, despised the way he talked to you, really. But he had to. For your sake and that of the multiverse. There was no other way.

So there was no use in beating himself up about it, right?

But why did he feel so defeated then? Miguel sighed once more. Of course he knew why, but that didn’t help in the slightest. 

“Hey Bossman, there’s someone on the line for you - should I tell them you need another minute to sulk?”

Miguel groaned at Lyla. Dios mío. (my god)

It’s Jess. It’s got to be.

“Now, what did I tell you about making people cry!” Her voice screamed at him through the monitor and he winced.

“I can do whatever I want!” He snapped back, instantly regretting it as a short but pressing silence covered the room.

Yup. He’s in for a lecture. 

“And she put us all in danger.” His jaw was clenched. 

“She’s a mess! You’d think Spider-Man would have sympathy for someone who just lost their Ben.”

“She– what?” Miguel finally looked up, his heart sinking in his chest - Jess’s stare was scolding him through the flickering hologram. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

He didn’t. But he had been so careful, had monitored everything in your universe to make sure you were safe. How could it have slipped past him?

“Oh my god, Miguel!” He could practically see her disappointed, motherly glare. Jess had that one already.

Miguel muttered a curse word under his breath, the Spanish barely reaching Jess. 

“Now’s not the time to beat yourself up about it. I’ll do that for you later.” His eyes squinted angrily. “You need to fix this mess ASAP. I need you on top of your game and apparently, you can’t be without her. So get yo ass up and stop whining!”

“Where is she?” His voice was hoarse, void of the lump he swallowed a minute ago. 

“Her universe–“

“Thank’s Jess.”

“Hey–“ but Miguel had already ended the call. He knew where. He knew everything about you. He knew where you worked, the names of all the employees you associated with, he knew which bagel you preferred for breakfast - he even knew which parts of the paper you read in the morning ...and he also knew where you went to be alone. 

Miguel rose, still kind of catty from Jess’s call-out, and immediately opened a portal to your universe to step through. Miguel knew he needed to apologize. He was determined to - really he was, because the situations he constantly found himself in, the anger and arguing, didn't benefit anyone. 

But when he stood in the streets of your version of Nueva York, pictures of you flashing along the screens on the buildings, celebrating and broadcasting your talent, he came to a startling realization: He couldn’t explain anything without revealing his feelings for you. 

❁❁❁

Miguel watched from a safe distance as you kicked your legs sitting on the edge of the building. It wasn’t the highest building. A rather average-sized one, right by the water with a bakery on the ground floor. 

He analyzed your posture. Hands perched on the ledge and head hanging low, the occasional rocking from the kicking motion. Miguel's fingers itched to reach out and hold you. But he couldn’t. I probably never would.

Because he had spent the last year making sure you’d hate his guts. And - no much to his dismay - he had succeeded. 

He huffed. Miguel had no damn idea how to go about this. He knew the spider society needed you - he needed you. At least close to him. 

The gravel on the roof crunched when his foot stepped from the shadow. Joder. (fuck) You had spider senses, Miguel was wondering why you hadn’t found him out already - then again, you probably just wanted to be alone right now...

His arms wanted to reach forward again, his body emerging from behind his cover ever so slightly. And when he looked back up at you, he winced at your piercing eyes directed at him. ...yes, he deserved that.

You waited, just stared at him - almost daring him to move again.And Miguel felt so small, so out of control. 

He knew he had no right to be here. He had no reason to in your eyes. But he needed to fix things. Or he’d hate himself ...and Jess after she whopped his ass if he came back without you. 

Miguel’s eyes avoided you, willing his rampaging pulse to still. Cállate, corazón estúpido. (shut up, stupid heart)

“What are you doing here?” His hand fell from his chest when you spoke. It wasn’t a friendly question. More of a warning... don’t you come any fucking closer. 

“I–“ But his voice betrayed him. What the hell was he thinking coming here? One look at you told him that nothing would be fixed with a quick apology. He had a year's worth of mistreatment to make up for. And then there was still the thing about his feelings. 

Qué lío. (what a mess)

“I want to talk,” Miguel tried again only for you to become more agitated. 

“I think I heard everything I needed to hear from you.” You spat Turing back around and Miguel nodded defeated. 

“I’m sorry about Ben.”

He saw your shoulders tense, your head hanging a little lower, but you didn’t say a word. 

Miguel knew better than to approach you. You had all right to be angry at him, he had fucked up - big time. But he was too stubborn to accept defeat just yet. You were too important and he hated himself for not seeing it earlier.

“I haven’t been fair to you.” That got your attention.

“Fair?! You haven’t been fair?!” If they could, your eyes would glow red, Miguel was sure. 

He watched timidly as you closed the distance between you - fuming. Maybe this had not been the best approach. 

“You have been nothing but cruel!” Your finger pushed into his chest and Miguel's heart jumped at the touch. “Benching me for minor mistakes, arguing with me about every little decision I make, not trusting me!” You took a breath, your eyes never leaving his. “Yeah, that’s a big one.”

The broad brunette gulped visibly. He knew he was walking into a messy discussion when he stepped through the portal, but his sweaty hands and hammering pulse told him that he was not prepared still. 

“I’m sorry.” It was too quiet, not strong enough to convince you. But he didn’t seem to find his voice in the fire of your wrath. 

“Oh, are you now?”

“Yes, I'm sorry.” Why did he keep saying that? Imbécil. (idiot) It clearly didn’t make things better. 

You shook your head with a huff. “You know what? I’m done with you - with this. You’ve done nothing but made my life miserable.” His eyes cast downward in guilt. He knew that. And he was punishing himself enough already. “And now you come here and think it’s all forgotten with a fucking apology.”

You were right. So right. But Miguel could bring his mouth to open up. It was as if he was cast under your spell. The dreading anger rolling off of you paralyzed him with shame. 

“What I need is respect. Trust. Your having my back.” You smacked your hands against his chest with every word. And Miguel let you. He could have easily withstood, but he deserved to be pushed around. What an absolute asshole he was.

“But you’re not willing to give it to me... to trust me. And the worst part is that I still like you!” 

He wanted to tell you. Show you that he knew he deserved all your rage, but he did not want to interrupt you. Even though his heart– wait a minute. Did you just say you liked him?! 

¡Mierda! (holy shit)

Miguel just stared at you as you kept on punching him, the words you just said seemed to get swallowed in your rage. But he’d heard them. Loud and clear. 

You liked him. Miguel's heart was hammering in his ears, so loud it almost drowned you out. It was as if he had forgotten the situation he was in when his lips twitched upwards and the words just tumbled over them.

“You like me?”

You stopped, looked at him with wide eyes, and then sighed. “Just go please.”

The beating slowed when you turned away again. Miguel tried to call out your name - pull you back. But when he did, he saw the tears falling from your eyes. 

“Please let me explain–“

“What's there to explain? You don’t think I'm capable. Okay fine. I tried to prove you wrong but it’s not getting through your stupid thick head.” Your tears fell relentlessly as the anger covered your features once more. And, again, Miguel just stood dumbfounded and helpless. All he wanted was for you to accept a do-over, to at least settle on neutral ground again. But you were throwing truths at him that hurt more than anything he’s ever endured. It just reminded him how inconsiderate he was. And that there were probably a lot more people that didn't like him. But Miguel didn’t care about those. You were the one important thing. The person he needed around, and safe. And he had messed it up. 

“I don’t know what kind of problem you have with me, why you can’t seem to show me a little human decency, but I’m–“

He didn’t know what came over him when he reached forwards and pulled you into a kiss. The panic had just risen to his head with all the overthinking and screaming. And he knew it wasn’t right to shut you up, but he had tried to think of a way to say what he had wanted to say. But he had come up empty, and the feeling of your lips on his felt a little too good to stop. 

You even kissed him back. He could feel your shoulders relaxing a little - even imagined feeling you tug your arms towards his neck, but before he could register, you had pulled out of his grasp again. 

“What the fuck?!”

“I’m bad at coping mechanisms,” he confessed blushing as you looked up at hun confused and staggered. “I didn’t know how to ignore my feelings for you so I went with the safest option... making you hate me.”

You frowned but at least you let him talk, so Miguel just continued. Whatever the outcome now, he had to get it off his chest. “I wasn’t ready for you. But I can’t hold it any longer it's tearing me apart... hurting you - that was never my intention. I just wanted to make it easier for me.”

“So you made me doubt myself for you to feel better. That’s – wow – not a red flag at all.” You crossed your arms. Though Miguel saw that you wanted him to continue. 

“I am sorry - verdaderamente. (truly) I know it’s not done with these words alone, but I promise to make it up to you... if you'll let me.”

His chest was heaving with nerves when he finished his little speech. And Miguel swore to have seen your eyes soften as you realized how sincere he was. He closed his eyes in the silence overtaking you both and shot a player to the sky. There was only one thing he was wishing for.

“How can I trust you won’t mess up again,” your voice piqued up and his eyes fell back to you. 

“Because it’s tearing me to pieces to see you like this. I know now that it is I who brings misery into everyone's life. For years I thought it was tough luck, but I realize I have fate in my own hands.” He carefully stepped forwards and took your hands in his, squeezing them lightly. He wouldn’t take this for granted. “So, please... let me show you. Give me a chance to change things. Give us a chance.”

You bit your lip debating. Miguel knew the uncertainty you must have felt, the anger and frustration of his ignorance. He would understand if you said no. Shit, he deserved it for all he knew. He wouldn’t stop you, but he would be miserable. 

Miguel squeezed your hands once more, pulling them to his chest to have you feel his heart vibrating in his chest. Por favor. (please)

And then you nodded with a small smile falling on your lips and his heart began to sing. Miguel smiled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as a happy tear rolled down his face. 

To hell with tough luck - he was the master of his fate. 

Wanna be added to the Taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar

#megs imagines #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel o hara x you #miguel o hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman 2099 #spider man x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman across the verse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #spider man #spider verse

[biscuitboba]

Not to be crazy about luffy (and zoro) again, but i actually can't stop thinking about luffy and the way he values the people that he holds dear? I think that the more luffy loves someone, the greater the support and respect he will give to the person's ambition.

Remember how a person's dream or ambition is a very integral part of one piece? Thinking about how luffy is probably the person who respects zoro's dream the most (and ofc vice versa cuz THRILLER BARK!) And i just can't-

With luffy we all know that he doesn't really mind dying if it means he's in the process of fighting for his dream, so with the whole zoro vs mihawk fight, luffy of course can only support (from afar) and watch his first mate fight the fearsome warlord.

No matter how much he worries for zoro's life, he just can't get in the way of zoro's dream. He knows that better than anyone not to get in the way of someone else's dream. And their deal (back in shells town) only strengthens luffy's resolve to let zoro face mihawk and not get in his way.

Luffy's concern for zoro is very palpable, but despite this, he stops johnny and yosaku from interfering, making sure that no one gets in the way of zoro's fight. That just proves how much luffy respects his first mate's dream. Like you can see that he is cleary frustrated, clenching his jaw, he is doing everything in his power not to approach his first mate and interfere. But after mihawk slashed his first mate, luffy literally lost it, and well... we all know the rest (he had to intervene)

Im sorry but god, zoro vows to never lose again, him pointing at the sky with his sword as he shouts his words... and of course the iconic moment where for the first time someone calls luffy by his future title, im not normal about it

Also mihawk acknowledging luffy and zoro's compatibility right away will always gets me, cuz honestly dracule mihawk, how???

Real talk, but what i love about zoro and luffy's relationship is how they acknowledge each other's strength. They always say things like "he is strong, he got this", "there's no way he is going to lose", "he will be fine", "it's him, no need to worry", et cetera... Like they have so much trust in each other's strength, that oftentimes they don't even feel the need to worry about the other person, because they are confident with each other's abilities.

But on the other side, sometimes (by sometimes i actually mean quite a lot) they can't help but to feel worried for each other. Especially when the other person gets hurt or attacked right in front of one of them. The worry intensifies when one of them faces a tough opponent or acts rather recklessly. And i think about that a lot.

Ok so, returning to the discussion in my first paragraph, about how luffy will always respect the ambition/dream of his loved ones. Especially if the person is strong, he will really respect that person's strength. A very clear example for this one is after leaving thriller bark and finding out something is wrong with ace's vivre card. The crew asks luffy about whether he wants to go after his brother or not, luffy replies:

Like we all know about how much luffy likes to brag about his brother's strength and also how much he loves ace. But exactly because of that.. luffy chose not to go after his brother at that time.

Now, not to make everything about zolu (who am i kidding? I actually will always make everything about zolu), but thinking about the way luffy put his trust in zoro to fight for his own dream in baratie, and the way luffy feels confident enough to fall asleep for a minute during the fight with big mama and kaido... because he trusts that his powerful first mate will be able to take care of himself, but more importantly, luffy trusts his first mate to keep him safe from danger. In this not essay i will-

#zolu #luzo #AGAIN #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece #baratie arc #mostly? #i need to shut up about them sjsksks

[night-market-if]

Spoiler Ask

So I'm going to address it all here under the cut because I've gotten a few asks in that are pretty similar and I'm sure I'm going to get more. So I thought instead of answering the same thing over and over, I'd just do a response below. Warning, spoilers for the end of book 1.

Full disclosure. I am sick. We are going through a lot of family things at the moment. My patience is probably thin.

For everyone that says MC is already too forgiving of Milo. Milo has not even come into the story yet. You've only observed memories of him. If you feel like you need an inner dialogue to tell you how angry you are over this "betrayal" or "death", I don't know what to say here. Because MC is literally just observing things at the moment. Any options that have been put forth to comment on Milo and what has happened, have been more to lay ground work and to also give a scope of the type of emotions that will be offered in the game. But literally, Milo has not even shown up yet into the story in a real capacity. So please stop sending me asks about how you are upset that MC has "forgiven" him because there has literally been no real interaction between Milo and the MC.

As for this betrayal and death thing. I am going to state this now for those who aren't going to like where my story is going so you don't need to read if you don't want to. As the Night Market, you knew you were going to die. You gladly came down and wanted to experience death. You looked at what Milo (a non magic user) was doing, and said "hey, this would be a cool experience" and then you came down here. So, yes, you are going to feel the full range of emotions that come with it. But you are also going to need to take some personal accountability for your actions. That is what is going to be explored in this book. An entity that didn't realize what emotion actually meant, came down thinking it wasn't going to be a big deal to die, and it turned out it was a big deal. A big fucking deal, in fact and that by doing so, they actually hurt people they loved. So, don't forgive Milo. I'm not forcing anyone to. But, I will not be writing an MC that puts all the blame on him. Because guess what? The Night Market would have died if he didn't do what he did. So, everyone also saying that he killed the MC? No, he literally saved the MC and billions of people. And I don't care what way you spin it? One person is never worth a billion souls. And with the MC being someone that literally cut themselves open over and over again to save most of the people living within the world, I would think they would probably not be too keen on Milo sacrificing them so they could die together in some bullshit Romeo and Juliet act.

Now, I am all for exploring how an MC comes to terms with the feeling of betrayal along with the feeling of needing to take responsibility. I am all for exploring an MC that goes "holy shit this emotion thing is way bigger than I thought and I'm angry and confused". I'm there for it. I'm excited to write it. But, I will not be writing a willfully ignorant MC that doesn't take into account that they did this to themselves as well. And yes, if you choose to not acknowledge it in game, others are going to acknowledge it for you. If you want to not read because you can't become a villain, rock back and forth in a corner and weep, or violently get mad at someone who saved the world? That's cool. I'm not offended by someone not reading it. Anyone coming into my ask box and saying "I just am not going to read now because you aren't doing xyz" I wish you a good night and hope you find something else for you because there are thousands of stories out there.

I am not interested. Nor will I ever be interested. In writing a story where I add to the plague of ignorance that is this world. Aren't we kind of all struggling enough with that in our own lives? MC is a being of compassion. They will always be a being of compassion. That is going to shift and change based on circumstances and there are going to be moments where that compassion can fall into question. When it comes to Milo, it is going to be a messy bit of confusing emotions because there is so much more than just the black and white strokes of "OMG he killed me" that seemed to be the rhetoric on here. Now, you don't want his character around? Alright. Other than when you have to see him for Gatekeeper purposes, you probably won't.

To all of you guys complaining or sending me ask after ask stating how you don't like what I am doing. I am going to tell you this and it will not ever change. If you don't like reading this, then don't read. I am not here to write a story for you specifically. You don't like the direction of a work and can't ever broaden your scope of fiction to give it a shot? Then please don't. But to have this kind of messages coming through when literally we are a chapter in? Seriously. The instant gratification is bullshit. I'm going to suspect this is coming from the younger half of my audience who is way too accustomed to a confirmation bias internet algorithm and who has had a very small scope of real life. This is of course not all of the younger crowd but it's starting to seem like a pretty good amount.

I love having conversations with everyone. My discord is always open but most of you anons hide because you are far too scared to come at me with your user name or engage in a conversation feed where more than just me can answer. I mean, you guys send me asks, citing others user names, to call them out through me. It's laughable at this point.

I love having discourse with all of you but I'm not going to keep answering the same thing over and over again and justifying my work when it doesn't need to be justified. This is a small little bit of fiction in a vast sea.

If I sound pissed, it's because I am at this point. And I'm sure I'll get more asks in that are stating they are jumping ship or that they are disappointed in me or what not. I'll delete them and move on with my evening.

To all of you who are here for the ride and just want to experience what I'm writing? Thank you. Fiction is just meant to be a form of entertainment. I am not writing anything profound. To anyone that is looking for something more, move on. I'll see everyone who wants to get mad or saying I'm too harsh, in my inbox, I am sure. Thank god you can block anons.

#the night market #interactive fiction #answering your asks #writers rant #i'm done with this shit guys

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Loser Round 4: Damian Wayne (DC) vs. Jason Todd (DC)

A rematch? It's so funny how the bracket turned out this way.

Propaganda under the cut.

Damian Wayne (9-14):

Damian is a kid who was raised as an assassin and because of that when he first appears he has some really messed up ideas of how to prove himself to his father by being aggressive with the criminals they capture and attacking his brother. Because of this people act like he is the most evil character ever and refuse to give him any grace. They make him out to be this awful irredeemable monster who just wants to kill his brother and hurt people. If the fandom isn’t making his out to be The Worst(tm) then they are ignoring his existence all-together. He is a really interesting character who has done some not so great things but he’s grown and learned a lot through various character arcs (as much of an arc as a comic book character can have) and he deserves to be acknowledged for himself and not just as a villain so that people can woobify his brother.

——

HES JUST A LITTLE BABY GUY!!!!! Little baby man raised as an assassin and learning how to be a real person <3. But because he was kind of a dick and also a little stabby early-on, especially to the fandom's main "so sad uwu depressed baby" blorbo (and also he's not white), people treat him like he's satan incarnate

Jason Todd (~12):

Most of the Tumblr fandom likes this guy but if you step outside this website then wham so many people say he got what he deserved as a kid and Batman can't be cool if he's a dad so it's important for Batman to trash-talk his dead child constantly so we can all agree what a bad idea it was. Also wanna highlight that a lot of the records we have from fans at the time were clear they disliked Robin for BEING a child. Like a lot of the little dude characters in this tournament are treated too harshly for making an ugly choice and the fans aren't being understanding or sympathetic that the choice is made by a child character who is immature and not developed and strong enough to make a good choice and stuff. But THIS little dude was specifically hated FOR being a child. People wanted tough loner guy Batman not Batdad and his little buddy. The first Robin would drive back from college and guest star sometimes and be advertised as the Teen Wonder and people were like yeah okay but then Batman actually starts being a single parent for a child with needs and people were like UGH not the BOY Wonder. Today pretty much everywhere you see Batman fans saying Batman is better solo, no kid, it's not realistic to have a kid, a kid shouldn't be in the movies blah. Even if the comics they always find a way to send away the new kid so that Batman never has to parent. So all the Robins are being excluded from the narrative but I think this one is THE symbol of Batman fans hating a child character just for being a child.

-

Robin, Jason Todd, THE hated child character. In the 1980s, Batman comics had become increasingly dark and gritty. According to editor O'Neil himself, the courted audience wasn't kids but 19-40 year old men with disposable income. Batman's child sidekick, Robin, was offensively campy and childish. Fans called him wimpy, annoying, dumb, bratty, etc. Also people complained that Batman acting like an affectionate dad was unmanly and gay. Robin acts violent and emotional and people are like "ew he's so childish and emotional"—and then Batman literally acts just as murderously and emotionally within literally the same exact story and people are like "wow he's so dark and tortured". So in 1988 (after brutalizing Batgirl to get rid of her for being too bright and nice and kid-friendly), DC held a paid poll for fans to vote for Robin to live or die. O'Neil claims he heard a fan (a grown man with a dayjob as a lawyer) programmed a phone to spam kill votes. One fanguy claimed that he sold his Mercedes to buy kill votes (probably an exaggeration but still). By less than 1% margin, the vote decided to kill Robin in a spectacularly violent way. Anyway the 1989 Batman movie brought in a huge wave of new child comicbook fans who liked the new Robin (a very cool teenage high school Robin with a driver's license and a girlfriend), and DC started a separate Robin-less Batman series called Legends of the Dark Knight to make the anti-Robin writers and fans happy. But to this day, many fans agree it was a good idea to kill off the other Robin so that his foolish death reminds other characters to never be childish and stupid again. Bonus: the current Robin (usually a traumatized 10-year-old) has also been facing some pretty loud hatred for over 15 years.

#yall hate kids tourney #loser round 4 #dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #dc robin #batman comics #batman and robin #damian wayne #jason todd #cw child death

[icallhimjoey]

Then Again

♥ ♥  rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: In this the third part of what's now become my Eddie story, following "Only Now" and "Over Now". Since your last visit, Eddie spiraled, and Eddie spiraled hard. An exciting event brings all of you, the whole gang, back into a room together and even though time has passed, and everyone seems to have moved on... have you?

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, smut, angst

Author’s note: all of the girlies who left me lengthy messages and shared your ideas; this one's because of you and entirely for you. I really hope it answers all of your questions and lives up to all of your expectations!

Wordcount: 9.8K

(find all four parts of this story here)

Eddie stared at the invitation he pulled from a delicate beige envelope he'd just been handed by a roadie. The chaos from setting up the stage in a venue they'd just arrived at that day was always something Eddie liked to escape. He'd find a quiet place to wait all of it out, sometimes even stayed on the bus, until he'd be called to stage for soundcheck. When a roadie knocked and walked into his dressing room, Eddie was already up on his feet because he thought it was time, but then he was given an envelope with his name written on and was left alone again.

The influx of feelings nearly knocked him off his boots; joy, fear, guilt, relief, shame - it all hit him at once, hard. Square in his chest, where it hurt him the most and where he felt he probably deserved it the most, too.

“Fifteen months today?”

“Day after tomorrow, but, close enough, right? Fifteen months.” Eddie said it like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

Sat across from his therapist, he smiled bashfully at the mention of his achievement in sobriety. His therapist seemed incredibly excited and very proud of him, and if he was honest, she really was the only person he appreciated celebrating with him. Everyone else around him acknowledged it all the time, but they’d tiptoe around the subject, always scared to say the wrong thing. Eddie’s substance abuse had left a mark on them, and he’d worked hard to make things right, but he knew that there were people who’d forever be afraid that Eddie would relapse and become the worst version of himself again.

"That's fantastic, Eddie! Wow. Congratulations!"

His therapist was full on big smiles and there was no fear behind her eyes, and Eddie really appreciated it.

He hated seeing that fear. It would remind him of all the things he had done wrong in his life. Of everything that lead him to where he was now, which was a good place, anyone would agree. But too often, something or someone would hold up a mirror and show Eddie this is what you did, what you were like, what you said to me and it hurt.

If Eddie was honest, which, through a lot of therapy, he learned he really owed to himself, he’d been slowly spiraling down ever since Corroded Coffin got signed and he got a free ticket out of Hawkins. But what really accelerated him into the deepest pits of hell was that one night where you asked Eddie to ruin it all.

And he did ruin it all. Because you had asked him to, and he had obliged.

You hadn’t known how to react when yet another headline graced a newspaper, or when Eddie’s drunk angry face was plastered on the cover of another magazine, or when your boss would make another comment on what appeared to be reckless rockstar behavior from Eddie that made the press.

“Did I do this?” you asked, turning a page with a trembling hand as your cheek and shoulder worked hard to keep the phone at your ear.

“Absolutely not. Eddie is one hundred per cent doing this himself,” Steve answered, looking at the same magazine spread of unflattering paparazzi pictures.

“But do I… do I call someone? I can’t watch– what if he does something really stupid, Steve? What if…” you didn’t want to finish your sentence and heard Steve sigh on the other end of the line.

“I’ve reached out so many times, trust me. To his band members, to his management– even to Wayne, but it’s all– they’re all very… there’s nothing anyone can do,”

“So we’re just going to watch him crash and burn?” the picture in front of you of Eddie throwing an empty whiskey bottle at the windscreen of a random car should’ve never been taken and should’ve never been printed, you thought. The people around him were either eager photographers, trying to catch Eddie’s downfall in real time, or bystanders laughing. Big ugly smiles on big ugly faces, not an ounce of empathy for Eddie Munson who very clearly wasn’t doing okay.

The fucking tabloids could die, for all you cared.

“We’re not.” Steve answered, and for a second you hoped he’d have a plan. Some way to reach Eddie without facing the risk of pulling the two of you into it with him.

“We’re not going to watch him.” Steve then said, and you slumped your shoulders and let your head fall as you took hold of the phone with your hand. Simply ignoring Eddie as he dug his own grave wasn’t really going to help your anxiety at all.

“He’ll come to his senses,” Steve said, not even really convincing himself, but trying his best anyway. “Eventually.”

“I just wish there was something we could do,” the guilt you’d felt pool at the pit of your stomach into this black puddle of tar felt too sticky for you to ignore.

“It’s probably not as bad as it looks, you know what these magazines are like,” Steve tried, and you knew he was probably at least a little bit right.

“Hey,” Steve said after you failed to say anything, but just stared at the images of Eddie in front of you. “Don’t let it ruin your day, all right?” Like it hadn’t already ruined every single one since Eddie started calling you at the most awful hours and leave lengthy voicemail messages in a sloppy voice. You were barely able to make out anything he said at all, but you could always sense the anger and if the message went on long enough, his absolute helplessness. The obvious vulnerability. His weakness. They were all the things you felt constrict within your own chest as you’d listen to the messages in the morning.

Eddie never called. Never used to call. Now, he did it all the time. But you never called back.

Well, you did once but were greeted by the very kind voice of someone at the front desk of the hotel Eddie had stayed at that night, and you knew it’d be no use to ask for Eddie. He’d either have checked in under another name to hide his identity, or he'd have left already. You almost thought he did it on purpose; Eddie only ever reached out to you when he knew you’d either be at work, or asleep, and never gave you a chance to catch him when you’d return the call.

And so, you’d just listen.

You’d listen, and then you’d save every single message to listen to again later, because that’s the kind of person you were. You’d listen to them whenever you needed a good cry, because it always worked. And sometimes, you listened to them for other reasons. Stupid reasons, like, when you wanted to make yourself feel awful about yourself. You know, normal girly things. That was until Steve visited, and you let him hear. He had instantly deleted all of them from your machine.

Steve was angry with Eddie on a whole ‘nother level which he thought he hid well from you. He didn’t. You knew. But you never talked about it together because it would just be painful, and none of it would help. You both missed Eddie – not this Eddie, but Eddie Eddie – and the fact that it was hard to escape him made it all the more difficult.

It had all come ahead when, almost a full year after Eddie had last properly seen you, Robin’s doorbell rang at a quarter past midnight, followed by loud sloppy banging against her door. Panicked and confused at who the hell would be so loud that late, Robin was so ready to get angry at a tipsy, giggly Steve, but when she unlocked her door, saw someone she hadn’t been expecting.

Eddie Munson.

He looked closer to death than he’d ever looked before, and if Robin was honest, smelled closer to it too. He seemed unable to fully open his eyes, and when he looked at Robin for a second, she saw he also couldn’t keep his eyes still. They twirled and crossed over, and if the swaying on his legs didn’t give away how drunk he was, his eyes certainly sold the deal.

“Eddie?” Robin checked behind him, but he was alone. “Aren’t you… didn’t you have a show in Chicago tonight?” Robin knew because one of her cousins who lived in the windy city had been so excited to see Corroded Coffin live. Had called her specifically to tell her, because she knew Robin used to go to high school with Eddie. A car ride from Chicago would’ve taken nearly five hours. How the fuck was Eddie here right now?

“Ishehere?” Eddie drawled, the words barely making it out of him.

Eddie pushed Robin out of the way roughly and walked into the hallway with feet that were somehow too heavy to lift and simultaneously unable to easily find the floor again. Eddie had to use both his hands on either side of him to find balance on whatever he could grab onto.

Mentally, Robin tried to piece the situation together in order to make sense of it. If Eddie was here, there was no chance the concert had happened that night. He was definitely under the influence, maybe of more than just alcohol, and Robin feared that he’d left Chicago without anyone knowing. Left the band, left the fans – left a full venue of people waiting for him to come up on stage and play some fan favorites and some newer songs. Just, left.

Oh man. Eddie was in trouble.

In his current state he obviously couldn’t have gone to see Wayne, Robin couldn’t even imagine how Wayne would react to the man she saw stumble into her home. He also couldn’t have gone to see Steve either – Eddie probably knew that there were a lot of judgmental words waiting for him, a full lecture of phrases and terms that he’d have to wade through before he’d even catch sight of a couch to sleep on.

“You walked right past me,” Robin said somewhat sarcastically to Eddie’s question as she closed her front door, accepting that Eddie was in her house now and was probably going to stay the night.

“Where are you hiding her?” Eddie raised his voice and loudly slammed the door to Robin’s hallway closet and suddenly, Robin was scared. Eddie was aggressive, and she was alone.

“I’m here!” Robin hissed, nervous, but loudly, making Eddie turn his head to give her a quick glance before turning and tripping over his own feet into her living room. Robin followed him and got to see him plummet face first onto her couch. She watched him squirm around a little bit, take his shoes off with little care, mumbling to himself as he threw them across the room. Robin wondered where all of his stuff was. Had he traveled here with nothing? Should she call someone? Let them know Eddie was with her, and not face down passed out in a ditch somewhere?  

Amongst the incomprehensible rambles Eddie was slurring into one of Robin’s throw pillows, she made out some words he grumbled, “You always leave– … where are you now– … you fucking left– ... bitch won’t ever answer– … I didn’t do this, you– ... You–”

Suddenly Eddie looked up and locked eyes with Robin.  

“You!”

“No,” Robin answered, surprisingly calm for her doing. She was still sort of jittery and definitely nervous, but also determined that whatever Eddie was struggling with, he wasn’t about to take any of it out on her.

“No, not me. I’m going to get you a blanket and a tall glass of water– a bucket. A bucket maybe, yes, because you seem like you’ve had a lot to drink, and I don’t want you ruining my rug. My mother got me that rug, she’d kill me if anything were to happen to it.” Robin rambled as her feet hurriedly carried her in small steps around her home, collecting the items she mentioned. “You see, sometimes people care about their things, their bodies, their lives, and they don’t feel the need to absolutely ruin everything all of the time,” she continued, and it was all too fast paced, too much, too sober for Eddie to follow or to respond to. “They don’t get drunk and travel for hours just to ring someone’s doorbell after midnight, scaring the living daylight out of them because, what if something happened to someone? Why else would someone come a-knocking? They don’t do that Eddie. They don’t.”

It seemed like Eddie had passed out.

“Please don’t die on my couch,” Robin finished, placing down a glass of water on her coffee table. “We can talk in the morning.”

Robin made sure to lock her front door and hide the keys, so Eddie had no chance of sneaking out and endangering himself more than he already had done before disappearing into her bedroom. The click of her bedroom door followed by the sudden absence of noise made Eddie lift his head up slightly, and he noticed only then that Robin had left him alone.

“Hey!” she heard Eddie call for her, the anger in his voice unmistakable.

“Robin!” she kept quiet, squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. No. She’d talk to him in the morning.

In a bid to get her attention, Eddie flung an arm out, knocking over the glass of water, and whether he intended it or not, it smashed onto the floor, breaking into vicious shards that imprisoned Eddie to the couch.

Robin heard.

Paused.

No.

She’d talk to him in the morning.

The next morning Eddie woke up to Robin talking to someone on the phone. She was trying to be quiet, but Robin was on edge and anxiety had taken over her system. She hissed down the phone and Eddie caught every word.

"Emergency. Code red. You have to come help me right now." "Guess who showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night?" "He’s on my couch, covered in vomit." "Of course he's still alive." "No, please, you have to come, I don’t know what to do," "It smells so bad, please, Steve, I can’t do this on my own, he’s your friend," "What do I do in the meantime?" "Okay. Please, hurry."

Eddie groaned. Everything hurt. It felt like the full front of his body was bruised. Head pounding. Taste of death in his mouth. Smell of butyric acid so thick in the air, it almost made Eddie retch again. He moved to sit up, but Robin was eyeing him like a hawk, sat up in a squat on an armchair and was quick to stop him.

“Stop! Don’t move.”

Eddie didn’t need telling twice and let himself fall back, relaxing into the couch again.

“There’s glass and throw up everywhere. You’re not moving an inch ‘til Steve gets here.”

Robin stayed put, kept her eyes on him and monitored every single chest raise and face grimace of the man splayed out on her couch. A man she only really knew because she'd grown close with Steve when they became coworkers, but had never really hung out with by herself. Mumbling under her breath, angry that Eddie had gotten vomit so close to her rug, Robin kept her distance because, God, smelling vomit first thing in the morning really was a sure fire way to get sick yourself if you weren't careful.

It took Steve and Robin 40 minutes to get Eddie situated at the dining table in some of Steve's clothes, freshly showered, with a glass of water and a bowl of cereal in front of him. Robin was doing her best to carefully pick up glass from her living room floor next to the couch. Steve was sat next to Eddie, both arms stretched, hands holding his knees, one leg bouncing and brows furrowed down deep. Steve was waiting for Eddie to talk. To explain. To apologize.

Eddie sighed, clearly still nauseous, and pushed the bowl of cereal away.

Steve didn't hesitate to push it right back to where it was.

"I'm not hungry, man,"

"I don't care,"

Eddie sighed again, now reaching for the spoon and moving it around a bit.

The only noise that filled the room was from pieces of glass Robin collected on the coffee table. The tension could be cut with a butter knife until Steve groaned loudly in frustration and got up from his seat.

"What are you doing, Eddie? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Steve yelled, and it made Eddie wince. His head was throbbing still, and loud noises hurt. Steve quickly sat down again and scooted closer to Eddie, really got in his face, made sure that whatever he was going to say next, he could see Eddie's reaction.

"Fuck you, man."

Eddie kept his gaze at the bowl of cereal in front of him, but Steve saw his jaw clench.

"Seriously?! Mindful? This is mindful to you? I don't– You can't– ... You've got to stop calling her. I'm being serious, stop with the intoxicated phone calls."

Robin stopped what she was doing and looked at them from her crouched position next to her couch. This wasn't a conversation she could pretend to not listen to whilst she was doing a dangerous task.

"Telling her that she's the one that ran away – Eddie, you left. You left and then you started coming and going as you pleased, in and out of Hawkins, in and out of our lives – her life."

Eddie let out a breath he'd been holding in, rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Steve.

Wrong move, Robin thought.

"You left. You bailed. You ran, you mother fucker," Steve got up abruptly, nearly making his chair fall backwards and for good measure, Steve kicked it in frustration making Eddie flinch.

"Steve," Robin tried in a bid to calm him down.

Steve took a few steps, hands up in his hair, breathing heavily as he looked at Eddie's tensed back.

"And now you're, what? Drinking yourself into the grave? Who is that meant to hurt? Just her? Because it's not." Steve lied. "You're only hurting yourself." Another lie, encased in truth, followed by silence. Robin was scared to breathe as she watched Eddie who honestly looked like he was still drunk, not far removed from throwing up again.

"Why could you not..." Steve sighed, "Why couldn't you just be with her?"

"I was!" Eddie suddenly exclaimed and turned to look Steve in the eye. "I was with her! When I was here, I was with her."

"Cut the bullshit, asshole," Steve looked at him through narrowed eyes. "We all know that's not what I meant."

Eddie turned to look at Robin, who was quick to hold up both her hands, showing her palms as if to say, don't ask me. Then he turned back to look at Steve again, and he felt the built up anger dissipate when all he could see in his friend's face was worry and pain. Clenching his jaw, Eddie's eyes found the bowl of cereal in front of him again and he kept them there as he heard Steve sit down next to him again.

"I'm not going to pretend that whatever you're doing to yourself isn't complete self-destruction because you know, Eddie. You know what you did and you know what you had and now you know what you lost now that she finally, fucking finally, ended it."

If Steve wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the first little rips in Eddie's hard demeanor. A couple little cracks, and Steve hoped they'd grow deeper so he could get in there properly. Worm his way in, and then drag his friend out of there.

"She moved on, and you can't handle that, and now look at what you're doing to yourself..."

"Eddie," Robin suddenly spoke from the other side of the room, making him look up a second. Her voice sounded soft and kind, and the look in her eyes reflected her words.

"You scared me last night..."

Eddie didn't need to hear more. This was enough for tears to spring into his eyes. He turned away to at least somewhat hide it, but the loud sniff that followed gave away that he was crying. Steve placed a strong, but caring hand on his shoulder, and Eddie immediately grabbed it. Held onto it. White-knuckled it until it hurt him.

"Enough with the shit excuses, all right? When's the last time you've seen Wayne?"

Eddie hugged Steve, and Eddie hugged Robin. Uttered the words "I'm sorry," about a million times through tears he felt guilty for crying. Robin was quick to tell him he didn't need to apologize to her, but Steve didn't react to the words at all, felt like he should at least say them two million more times and really mean all of them for Steve to accept them.

Eddie let Steve drive him over to Wayne's.

Wayne took Eddie straight to rehab.

When you got off the phone with Steve, you were crying. It was a weird mix of relief, happy tears, honest joyous thoughts because Eddie would be taken care of now, but you also felt so much pain for him. Rehab? That meant it was really serious. That it was really real. But he was getting help now, which was definitely good news, but you just wished it had never ever gotten to this point.

Starting you shift down at the bar, you couldn't really stop thinking about it. Your boss made a small comment, asked what was on your mind, because you seemed a little out of it, so you'd vaguely told him you'd gotten some news. Ultimately okay news, good news, but, food for thought anyway. Your boss' reaction had been that you were lucky it was Wednesday and it probably wouldn't get really busy.

And your boss had been right.

The bar only really saw regulars that day, all sat at barstools with elbows perched up onto the shiny varnished wood while the rest of the place remained empty. These guys made your job easy. You knew what all of them were drinking – beer, and beer, and then later, likely more beer – and you would have the next drink ready for them before they could even ask. They would all tip extra too if you smiled and engaged in kind conversation with them. Which you did.

Then, a stranger walked in, and he instantly caught everyone's attention. If the light, acid washed, tight jeans and the white, impeccable, tightly laced-up tennis shoes were anything to go by, this guy was lost with a capital L. Maybe, probably, there just to use the restrooms.

"That kid lost?" one of the older guys sat at the bar must have read your mind, making the two men next to him snigger softly.

You made eye contact as he sat down at the far end of the bar and smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

He honestly looked a bit like Steve, if you were honest. Polo shirt and all. Disney looking dude. Hair all sun-kissed, high lighted by the summer. The least intimidating man in there by far. And pretty. Shit, this guy was really pretty. You saw him look around and check what everyone else was drinking.

"Jack and coke?" he asked, almost like he wanted your permission for getting anything other than just a beer. "Sure, coming right up," you grinned and got started on it. You saw your boss making eyes at one of the regulars, and they were clearly making fun a little. But when you checked to see if your new customer could tell that he was being taunted for sticking out like a sore thumb, you saw him mouth along to the song being played. You turned back to look at your boss, eyebrows raised high as if to say, oh, maybe he's not so lost?

You finished mixing his drink and were about to place it down in front of him when he held out his hand to take it from you. Handing it over, his fingers brushed yours, and then you held eye contact for much longer than would be considered normal.

"Thank you," he smiled sweetly, and you couldn't help but blush. His eyes were really captivating. Big brown orbs, surrounded by beautiful long lashes. Killer smile, too.

"You're welcome," what had you all shy all of a sudden? Was it the freckles?

He reached his other hand over the bar and held it out to you.

"I'm Matt,"

You stared at it for a second, heard your boss very clearly suppress a laugh behind you, and then decided to shake it.

"Nice to meet you, Matt."

Matt then looked over your shoulder at everyone behind you and raised his glass in cheers to all the other men. You turned around and were surprised to see all of them raising their glasses in return just before you caught your boss trying to hide his smirk from you.

Interesting, you thought. This could definitely get interesting.

“So, you mentioned next weekend is big… what’s happening?” Eddie’s therapist scooted forwards in her chair and clicked the pen in her hand as it hovered over a notebook she’d scribble in from time to time.

“A wedding.” Eddie answered in a held breath, chest puffed out, holding it there for a second. “Old friends from Hawkins invited me to their wedding on Saturday, at Laurel Hall in Indianapolis, which is this beautiful mansion, used to be a school way back when…” Eddie had gotten into the habit of just saying whatever he thought, saving his therapist the trouble of asking for details. “They’ve been together since high school. High school sweethearts, what a dream, right? I guess everyone’s going to be there, old classmates, friends – I’ve been given a plus one too, which they didn’t need to do, but is still kind of them,”

“Who are getting married?”

“Nancy and Jonathan,” Eddie answered, rubbing sweaty palms over his jeans. They were names of people he didn’t think he had ever mentioned before, so he felt the need to clarify. “Jonathan is Will’s older brother, and Nancy is Mike’s older sister, and Mike and I used to be–” Eddie started, but his therapist stopped him as he clicked her fingers in recognition. “Hellfire Club.” She stated, and Eddie smiled.  “Yea,” he let a short silence fall in which he collected thoughts.

“Nancy and Steve also dated for a couple of months when they were 15… maybe 16, and Will and Mike are best friends too, so, there’s a lot of… we’re intertwined in a lot of different ways,” Eddie waved his hands over each other a few times to illustrated the intertwining of all of them.

"I guess that's what happens in small towns, huh?"

"You're nervous. Why are you nervous?" she saw right through him.

"Well... it's a wedding. People will be drinking." Eddie sighed deeply, then frowned as he stared into nothing for a second.

"Will your ex-girlfriend be there too, if you don't mind me asking?"

Ex-girlfriend.

Eddie's eyes shot up to look his therapist in the eye.

Ex-girlfriend.

They made Eddie talk a lot in rehab. Group therapy sessions. Individual therapy sessions. And Eddie had never really talked about anything that really bothered him before, so it was real difficult at first. He felt he wasn't meant to feel bad about anything, because was he not living the dream? Was this life not everything he had been wishing for? Everything he'd ever dreamed of ever since getting his very own first guitar?

Eddie was meant to explode with joy. Be the happiest man alive. Instead, however, Eddie felt like he was drowning constantly, and felt overwhelming guilt for it too.

Eddie had to explain all of it. Make everyone understand as he made sense of it himself. When he had to explain to people who hadn't been around your friendship, hadn't known what the two of you were like, what you'd always been like together, he tried to find the right words to make everyone understand. And then, there only seemed to be one right word for it.

Ex-girlfriend.

You totally were his ex-girlfriend.

It was an awful moment of realization that kept him up at night for weeks because, you were his ex-girlfriend now. Ex. You had totally dated each other. For years. You'd been his girlfriend and he'd been your boyfriend. An awful one, too, but a boyfriend none the less. It had been the real deal. Eddie had been so in love and recognized that you'd been too. Maybe even more so. How had he never known? Never seen it? Never been able to face it? How did he, only now that it was over, learn that that was what it was? Eddie never even knew it was something he could lose, because it never earned its label. It never got named, and so it never gained any strength. Now that it was gone, over, past the point of repair, Eddie suddenly gave it strength, gave it meaning, gave it power by naming it what it really had been and it was heart shattering.

"I think so," Eddie said to his therapist, nodding slowly. "Yea, she must be."

And Eddie was right. The first person he laid eyes on when he walked into Laurel Hall on Saturday May 4th at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, was you. You were up near the front, already seated for the ceremony, and Eddie decided to hang back because that felt a little safer. He sat next to what he assumed were some distant relatives, and gave himself the time to see which way the wind was blowing.

The ceremony was beautiful. Jonathan and Nancy looked stunning, and Eddie really tried to follow along, to listen to the vows, to smile when he was supposed to, and to clap when he was supposed to. But with everyone, Robin, Steve, Dustin, Mike, people's parents – oh my God old friends and their judgmental parents, Eddie had completely forgotten about the parents – but mostly, with you in the room, paying attention seemed an impossible task.

Halfway through the ceremony Eddie doubted if he should've even come at all, and he thought of slipping out unseen. His palms were so sweaty, they were leaving wet patches in his trousers, and his legs wouldn't stop bouncing. But when he looked around to see if no one would actually notice, he locked eyes with Dustin who gave the most excited smile Eddie thought he'd ever seen on him, and so he stayed.

At the reception, Eddie was welcomed by someone holding a huge tray of champagne flutes at the bottom of the stairs and he figured he'd do the polite thing and take one. He'd secretly discard it somewhere on a mantel later, he thought. When he saw you in the crowd, talking to some other people he knew, he decided to grab two flutes. You were empty handed, he had two drinks – one plus one equalled two. It could've been the perfect way to step into your group. The perfect opening to talk to you. The perfect way to– ...oh no.

Someone else handed you a drink.

And you leant in.

And you kissed them?

Let them place a hand on your lower back?

You smiled?

Seemed very happy?

"Eddie!"

Dustin frantically waved him over, and Eddie was visibly relieved for the out he was given. Swerving off the path that lead directly to you, he walked over to where Dustin was stood with Will, Lucas and Max. Eddie said his hellos, and they all politely smiled at him, gave him the exact looks with the exact eyes that he'd feared he'd get from everyone that day. Somewhat fearful, definitely awkward, a little scared to say the wrong thing, and far too focussed on the huge elephant in the room that took up almost every square inch from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling. It only left the smallest bit of wiggle room to squeeze in some polite small talk.

Except, Dustin wasn't about that small talk life. At all.

"Yep, I'll take these, thank you very much," Dustin said, reaching for both of the glasses Eddie was holding and downed them immediately. Eddie gave him a look, and Dustin stared right back. "Surprise, I'm not 14 anymore, I'm overage now, shithead," he deadpanned, and Eddie was stunned into laughter. "Are you?" Will squinted at Dustin after some quick mental math, but Dustin just shrugged and said, "Close enough, anyway."

They managed to converse on a somewhat normal level in their little group. Eddie was a little fidgety, but Dustin was just being his regular old self, always teetering between innocent excitement and nonjudgmental acceptance, which was exactly what Eddie needed. Good old helpful little nerdy Dustin. What a dude, what a savior. The group grew slightly awkward again when Mike joined them, brother of the bride, but it only took seconds for Eddie to lock his elbow around Mike's neck. Mike said something so stupid about how Will and Mike were brothers now, it made everyone groan, so obviously, it was headlock-time.

Their laughter was loud, young boys having fun, but it felt misplaced because they were all in fancy suits in a very fancy solarium, and were definitely drawing attention to themselves for it. Dustin tried stepping in to save his friend, but Eddie had two arms, had he not? Lucas tried to warn him, but it was to no avail and Eddie had them both now. "No wedgies, no wedgies!" Dustin called out before wedgies had even crossed Eddie's mind. People who didn't know them were frowning, no doubt wanting to tell them off, boys you're at a wedding reception, behave yourselves!

You observed them calmly over the rim of your glass as you happily sipped the champagne that your boyfriend had handed you earlier, and you hid a smile. "They're such babies," you heard Robin mutter next to you, followed by "Oh my God, that's him! That's Eddie Munson!" from your very excited boyfriend, Matt. "Come on, I'll introduce you," Steve quipped and nodded for Matt to follow him. "Don't ask him to sign anything, or tonight is going to be so weird," you heard Steve say as they walked off together.

Yeah.

Tonight was definitely going to be weird.

You knew Eddie hadn't seen you look. You'd clocked him immediately. Had seen him sit down in the back during the ceremony. Tried to keep your attention with Nancy and Jonathan, smiled at Matt when he squeezed your thigh at the vows, hugged his arm as he teared up when Jonathan spoke. But Eddie was in the back, and you could almost feel his eye bore into you, so your legs had bounced wildly the entire time and your mind hadn't wavered from him for a single second.

Watching Matt be his giddy, excited, puppy-dog self as Steve introduced him was almost too much to witness. Matt was a huge Corroded Coffin fan, even if he didn't look it, and you'd told him about how you used to be real close friends with Eddie. You had never let on what that friendship entailed. What that friendship had looked like to others. What that friendship had meant to you. Matt just thought it was really cool and couldn't wait to one day maybe meet him.

Which was right now, and you realized you were entirely unprepared.

Robin understood what a bizarre position you'd been placed in, and stood beside you as you both looked at the three of them from afar. You thought it was nice that you were out of earshot, you didn't need to hear Steve ask Eddie to ask Matt what his favourite band was. It was also nice to see that Steve and Eddie were on good terms. They smiled at each other, and had hugged in greeting. You knew they'd seen each other a few times after Eddie had gotten out of rehab. Steve had also actually replied to the letter they had made Eddie write in there, which you hadn't done. You had read the one he wrote you, memorized huge chunks of it even, but had never picked up a pen to write a reply. It had kind of kept the door between the two of you dead-bolted shut, and Eddie hadn't dared knocking it for fear you'd find another lock to turn the key on.

"This is weird," Robin muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.

"So weird," you agreed. You saw how Eddie kept biting his lips and knew that he was nervous. Eddie Munson, nervous to talk to your Disney boyfriend. What a wild thing to be staring at.

"Matt and Steve are practically wearing the same outfit," Robin followed up, and you realized that she was talking about something entirely different from you. But, shit, she was right. It wasn't the exact same outfit, but if you squinted hard enough, you could easily confuse one for the other.

When you saw Matt turn to look at you, point his finger for Eddie to follow its line, you waved. And then you smiled. You were a grown up. An adult, God damn it. You could wave at someone and be normal, surely.

Before Eddie could wave back, you saw how they were being asked to step into the formal dining room as dinner was about to be served. People started moving, all ready to find their seats at the other end of the mansion, but Eddie didn't follow them. Instead, he slowly make his way over to you, and then, suddenly, it was just you and Eddie in the solarium still.

"Hey," with both hands in his pockets, Eddie twisted on his foot and used the other to tap your shin as a greeting. It was awkward, but cute.

"Hey," you returned the same gesture, but you were in heels, and you almost lost your balance. Eddie's hands reflexively reached out, but were quickly pulled back as you steadied yourself on your own. You blushed at your own clumsiness and Eddie scratched the back of his neck, entirely unsure of how to approach this chat with you.

Then you both chuckled. You chuckled at yourselves, at each other, at this outrageous situation you found yourselves in - all of it too stupid not to laugh at.

"You met Matt," you said, gesturing vaguely at the spot where they'd been stood seconds earlier.

"I did. Nice um... yeah, he's a nice guy," you could hear hesitation in his voice, and you squinted at him through a small smile. Eddie exuded the same vibes you'd felt in the bar when Matt had first walked in.

"Matty," Eddie said, and you could tell he was making fun a little. You let him, knowing how Matt could come off. Especially since he was an actual real life fan of Eddie. First impressions didn't really mean anything when it came to Matt. You knew.

"Eddie," you replied, returning his own facial expression and tone to him, and it made the both of you laugh softly.

"You look really good," Eddie suddenly complimented, looking you up and down, eyes gliding over your plum dress, and your chest ached with the way he said it.

"So do you," it was the polite thing to say, but you also absolutely meant it. Eddie looked fucking great.

A small silence lingered, and you were about to say that you should probably also make your way over to find your seat, but Eddie stopped you.

"Can we," Eddie stepped closer and let fingers wrap around your arm. "Can we meet, later? Another time, I mean. Another place. Like, next week, maybe?"

You looked at Eddie's hand as he touched you, felt sparks, before you looked up at him again, and you were met with big emotional eyes that couldn't look more apologetic if they tried.

You smiled warmly. "I'll think about it."

You knew it wasn't the answer Eddie wanted to hear, but he accepted it, nodded, let you go, and watched as you stepped away and went to find your seat next to Matt for dinner. You kind of liked the position of power you suddenly found yourself in with Eddie, and thought to yourself that you wanted to hold onto that for a little while longer. Could be, dared you think it, fun.

Dinner took its sweet time, and you grew a little bored. Speeches were followed by more speeches, were followed by more speeches, were followed by more speeches. When you saw Jim Hopper wipe thick tears from his cheeks, you turned to Steve to point it out. Steve looked, but then turned back to you and pointed at your boyfriend. Matt was crying too, and there was no possible way for him to even understand any of the references in any of the speeches. "Weddings just get me," he'd said earlier when he cried at the ceremony too, and you thought it was cute then. Now, it was becoming a bit much. You rolled your eyes at Steve, who silently laughed before you decided to down your glass of wine and immediately asked for another from a passing waiter.

After dinner, the party moved back to the rest of the ground floor. There was the grand lobby by the staircase, where people could sit on big old chesterfield couches and in old leather armchairs. Then there was the solarium that had its marble tiles turned into a dance floor. Lastly, there was the terrace, lit with beautiful patio lights strung across, where people could sit and chat at larger and smaller tables.

Jonathan and Nancy had their first dance, and it was very romantic. Made you swoon a little, looking at the eyes they made at each other. Perfect fucking couple. Behind them, you'd seen Eddie slip outside. For a smoke, you were sure. You weren't going to follow him. You were a grown up. An adult. You were no longer hung up on Eddie, and you made your own choices. Your next choice, you decided, was to drag your boyfriend onto the dance floor with you, even though, and he'd been very adamant about this, Matt didn't dance.

"Steve, my man," Matt slapped a hard hand onto Steve's shoulder.

"Do me a solid," he gestured to you as you were tipsily trying your best to reel Matt in with your imaginary fishing rod. "I don't dance."

Steve furrowed his brow, pretended to unhook Matt from your wire, and placed the imaginary hook onto his own collar. Ten seconds later, you were both stood on the dance floor, in dancing position, holding onto each other, just like everyone else was.

You mused together about how you were grown ups now. Real adults. With adult lives, and adult responsibilities. People your age were getting married now, having kids, had steady jobs, careers even and had fucking mortgages. It was such a trip if you thought about it for too long, and were glad to learn that Steve wholeheartedly agreed.

"We're grown ups who make sensible choices now," you almost said it like it was dirty.

"We're grown ups who know when to stop drinking," Steve said, giving you a look. You had definitely nearly tripped over your own feet a few times already.

"Ouch, don't let Eddie hear," you joked and, sure, maybe it was too soon for jokes like that, but you'd said it now anyway and it made Steve turn to check if Eddie hadn't accidentally heard you.

"We're grown ups who use our indoor voices," Steve pointedly said, visibly relieved Eddie hadn't been near you to have heard that.

"We're grown ups who decide for themselves how loud they want to speak," you were practically screaming over the music, and it had the two of you giggling into each other as you danced.

Dancing with Steve was fun. He sort of knew what he was doing and would hold you tightly when he did a spin. You'd seen Joyce smile and point you out to someone and knew it was solely because of the way Steve was moving you across the floor.

That was, until you were interrupted.

"Mind if I cut in?" Eddie suddenly appeared beside you, clasping a hand onto Steve's shoulder.

"Of course, but be careful with him, Steve's got two left feet," you joked, and pretended to step back to let Eddie dance with Steve.

"Idiot," Steve laughed and pulled you into a hug, whispered "grown ups!", in your ear and then smiled at Eddie as he passed your hand into his.

"Oh my God," you feigned nervousness as you let Eddie pull you close, one hand on the small of you back, the other holding your hand, just like every single other couple on the dance floor.

"I'm dancing with Eddie Munson," you said sarcastically, copying Matt's tone from earlier, squealing like an excited fan, smiling hard enough to make your eyes squint.

He furrowed his brows to appear offended, hurt even, but it was futile. The smile on Eddie's face was there to stay.

"You've clearly had a few, I see," Eddie noted, and if Eddie was trying to make you feel guilty over it, it wasn't working. You were totally allowed to drink, and weren't going to let Eddie - Eddie, who was responsible for the most difficult years of your life - guilt-trip you for it.

So, you just smiled. And nodded. Because yes, you had had a few. Eddie returned your smile and for a couple of seconds, you just danced and smiled at each other.

"You really do look nice," you said, noticing the blush in Eddie's cheeks that kind of matched your dress, funnily enough.

"Oh my God, stop flirting, people will assume things," Eddie joked in a hushed tone of voice, eyes darting across the room in a fake panic as you looked up at him.

"The people here? I think we both have years of convincing them they shouldn't be assuming shit under our belts, do we not?"

You were definitely flirting, and it felt terrific to feel like you had the upper hand over Eddie this time around. It was such a welcome shift you hadn't anticipated wanting to delve into so badly, but with plenty of others on the dance floor and no possible threat of Matt stepping in, you kind of just went with it. It was fun.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but," Eddie spun you before pulling you back into his chest. Not as smoothly as Steve would've done it, but still nice. "I don't think we ever really managed to properly convince anyone," Eddie grimaced, as if it was the worst news he could've ever broken to you.

You smiled at your feet before whipping you head back up to look at him. With Eddie smiling down at you like that, it seemed like Eddie appreciated you trying to keep the ball in your court. Tonight, Eddie could just look at you as you played with it. He could eagerly wish for you to toss it over the net, which you weren't planning on doing willingly, though you never ruled out the option of the ball slipping from your hands momentarily. Eddie might not have been drinking, but you definitely were. Maybe the ball would accidentally bounce over to him every once in a while, and those moments could be tests - you wanted to see if Eddie would throw the ball back to you on his own accord. And he better. He still had shit to make up to you.

"I got your letter," you blurted out, immediately regretting bringing it up, but Eddie's smile didn't falter.

"Lot of big confessions," you almost sounded challenging in your tone, a playful smile tugging at your cheeks.

"Yeah," Eddie scrunched his face as he elongated the word and nodded, not embarrassed to have written them down, but embarrassed you were talking to him about his feelings now.

"You never wrote me back, though,"

"I didn't,"

Eddie looked at you questioningly, and you were quick to frown at him.

"Um, how does one reply to, 'I was always head over heels, over the moon, out of this universe, so God damn in love with you, and I didn't even fucking know it'... any suggestions?"

"Um, I don't know, thank you, maybe,"

You laughed heartily at him, and Eddie bent into you as he laughed too. When the laughing ceased, and you returned to crow-feeted smiles for one another, Eddie realised that you'd memorized that part of his letter, and you realised that you'd just given that away.

"I do love you too, you know, if that's what you wanted to hear,"

Eddie gasped a small breath.

"You do?"

You nodded and grimaced, almost as if to say, I don't know why either, joining him in his bit.

"I had no idea," Of course Eddie fucking knew.

"What a shocker, hey?"

"I can not believe it. I don't think our friendship can take blows like this."

The music switched from a slight mellow one into a real slow, romantic one. There was no getting out of having to sway slowly to the gentle tunes, and to be honest, you didn't mind at all.

You sighed deeply, then thought of Matt.

"It's too late, is all," you said, ignoring the fact that, actually, even if you had been single, you still probably wouldn't have just accepted Eddie back into your life as easily. Even just as a friend, it was going to be difficult going for him.

"I know,"

You saw Eddie glance over your shoulder, no doubt to look at Matt. When he kept his eyes trained in the same direction for too long, you turned to look and saw Steve look at the two of you. His expression read a little confused, but didn't really say much else. Not to you anyway - you didn't know what had been going on behind your back before you turned around.

"Then again... is it?" Eddie whispered in your ear and then looked at you as he stepped back, let go of you entirely and took three steps backwards before turning on his heel and leaving the dance floor, and then, the solarium entirely. Eddie left you standing there alone, and you turned to look at Steve.

Steve, who, with big eyes, immediately mouthed 'no!' at you.

But you just shrugged, looked at Steve like you kind of had no other choice as your feet started following Eddie's footsteps.

Steve waved his arms to beckon you as discreetly as he could, inaudibly telling you to 'stop', and to 'come here', followed by 'we're grown ups!' but then Matt suddenly popped up next to him, and Steve proved once again that he was the best fucking friend you couldn't even have ever dreamed of asking for. Steve grabbed Matt by the shoulders, gave him a big smile, and engaged into conversation immediately as he turned him around, facing away from you, leaving you every opportunity to slip out and find Eddie.

You found Eddie at the bottom of the stairs in the grand lobby, which, thank fuck, was empty.

He held out his hand for you to grab, and when you did, wanted to leave through the main entrance, but you had a different idea.

"Upstairs,"

"Upstairs?"

"Upstairs."

You held onto Eddie's hand as you lead the way upstairs. Looking down the hallway from the landing, you saw a door that read 'Presidential Suite', and seconds later, you were stood in what was very obviously the bridal suite Jonathan and Nancy were going to be staying in that night. You were both staring at the four poster bed that was covered in rose petals.

"Maybe this isn't..." Eddie turned his head to look at you, and found you were already looking up at him.

"It definitely isn't..." you absolutely knew what he meant, but turned your body into him and snuck an arm into his jacket to curl around his waist.

Shit. You wanted Eddie. Sure, you'd been drinking, but not enough to be taken advantage of. You wanted Eddie, and you wanted him now.

"We might regret this," Eddie spoke softly, just above a whisper, but his nose was already nudging around yours. You couldn't manage a proper reply, but just let out a whimper that sounded enough like you agreed with him before you closed any distance left between the two of you and kissed him.

You kissed Eddie. Took hold of his face, pushed a hand into his hair, and you kissed him. Eddie wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in tightly, but didn't move otherwise, and let you kiss him for however long you wanted.

Eddie could cry with how much he needed this, needed you, but didn't make any further moves. You'd been right earlier; the ball was in your court.

You hummed, moaned and panted into Eddie's mouth, let your tongue roam and teeth nibble and you loved every single second of it. You could kiss Eddie like this for hours, and you easily would have, but then, you felt his erection press up against you and suddenly, just kissing wasn't enough. With your mouth still on him, you moved a hand down to press a palm over him, and you felt him flinch. It broke your kiss, and you looked down at it.

Eddie did too.

You palmed him for a few seconds, unable to look away from it, heard how Eddie held his breath and then, you let out a shuddered breath of your own.

"Get on the bed."

Eddie didn't need telling twice. He crawled onto the bed, let himself flop against the pillows sat somewhat upright, and started undoing his pressed trousers as you got busy hiking up your dress at the foot of the bed. After sliding down your underwear and stepping out of them carefully, you climbed onto the bed and Eddie reached out with both arms to help you get on top of him.

Straddling Eddie, and with all lights in the room turned on, you got to look at Eddie's face crumble as you started moving, slowly writhing, sliding up and down. Eddie's hands were clasped onto your sides and both your hands made sure they stayed there. You cocked your head, like a puppy hearing a new sound it tried to figure out, and studied Eddie's face as his eyes rolled to the back of his head before he let his full head fall backwards against the curtained wall behind the pillows. Fascinating. A huge turn on. You couldn't help but dip down and kiss him, and Eddie immediately returned it, full forced, moaning and groaning as he did.

Eddie looked up at you when you broke away from him, and you felt his hands move, firm fingers now digging into your hips as you picked up your pace, and you swore you could see it in his eyes.

You won.

You deserved to win, and you’d won.

You were the focal point of Eddie’s whole world. Past, present, and future. The first and only choice. He’d follow you anywhere, he’d just proven it, just to be near you, to be with you.

You’d won, and you could feel it, looking into Eddie's eyes with your foreheads locked together. Your eyes fluttered shut as you bit your lip before you moaned, and it drove Eddie wild. 

You were having devastatingly romantic sex in a bridal suite not meant for you, with a man not meant for you. But you were strong. Made your own decisions. Decided how close you were going to let Eddie get. Chose to fuck him all on your own accord. You'd deal with repercussions later, if there'd even be any, because maybe, you wouldn't allow there to be any. That's how powerful you felt, and you deserved it, Eddie thought so too.

You rode Eddie until your legs cramped, then let Eddie hold you steady as he rammed into you until you saw stars. You toyed with the idea of not letting Eddie get there, but then decided you wanted to feel every single muscle of him shudder underneath you, and so you kept it up until Eddie saw stars too.

A panting puddle of limbs on silk - now wet - sheets, you took a moment to catch your breaths. Let Eddie hold you close. Whisper sweet nothings into your hair. Words that could make you cry if they weren't laced in guilt and shame. You let Eddie do whatever he felt he needed to do, because you didn't mind him fighting for it. You let him, until the pauses between his words drew longer. You let him, until the blinks of his eyes grew slower. You let him, until he'd completely drifted off into blissful dreams of soft kisses, tender touches and sweet smiles.

"Eddie, what the fuck?!"

"What are you doing up here?"

"Get out of here!"

Eddie was rudely awoken by the shrill voice of Nancy, and the very confused voice of Jonathan just a couple hours after he'd fallen asleep in their bed. They'd walked in on him with his dick in his boxers, thank God, but his trousers halfway down his legs still.

"What the..." is all Eddie managed to say in a groggy voice as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

"Eddie! Get out!" Nancy wasn't going to give him time to adjust and hit him with her bouquet of flowers that she was meant to keep safe, making Eddie roll away from her.

"What's this?" he heard Jonathan on the other side of the bed and saw him pick up a note from a pillow.

Eddie was quick to snatch it from him as he rolled off the bed and was chased into the hallway by Nancy, trying to pull his trousers up as he did.

She slammed the door loudly, making Eddie wince at the echoing sound. He did up his zipper and closed the button before turning his attention to the now crumpled up note in his hand. Eddie rubbed his face and blinked his eyes into focus more, turned the note so the words were no longer upside down. As he read the words you'd left him with, a grin slowly took over his face.

'Sure. Next week. Coffee. x'

It could mean nothing, Eddie knew. It could absolutely totally have zero meaning. But, then again, if Eddie dared let his mind wonder, it held every potential to mean everything.

-----

Read the final installment: Never Over

-----

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munsons fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x y/n #stranger things 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #over now #only now #then again

[winesharksea]

i think it's important that kit appears to straight up not know how to have a genuine conversation with someone. and a lot of that has to do with how he was raised, isolated with nobody really asking for his input or opinions, but for most of tda even when he's speaking to somebody he's rarely actually sharing his thoughts. and on top of that he's SUCH a people pleasing character, like beyond the initial snark he pretty much goes along with whatever people want or expect from him just for their attention or to make them happy. and on top of THAT, i think that tda is probably his first experience as like... a person among equals? i don't think it really occurs to him that the things he does or doesn't do impact other people because that's never been the case before, and obviously it leads to disaster but like i think he still just does not understand that his decisions affect people because he feels irrelevant and out of place among them. he can't feel accountable for the ways his choices affect other people because he just does not understand that he has the ability to affect people at all.

and like on ty's side i think even before the resurrection attempt he's very given to self blame, like when livvy gets hurt at the shadow market and he immediately blames himself for the injury. he feels an immense amount of responsibility to both livvy and to the rest of his family, and so many of his actions post-tda are rooted in this idea that he needs to do penance for the failed spell. (and here i'm also going to blame magnus a little for being really unnecessarily harsh at the end of tda when from everything preceding kit is literally just fleeing the country out of embarrassment and not really anger.) but he doesn't blame kit for lying to him or randomly dropping a love confession at him at possibly THE most inopportune time, he immediately put that back on himself and blames himself for being the reason kit left. there's also a lot to be said here about processing the world as an autistic person among an insular society of people who don't have the vocabulary or information to help you even when they want and try to, and how that affects the way you see your relationships with other people. ty doesn't blame kit for lying or running away because it does not occur to him that the fault lies with anyone but himself.

(also now i'm going to blame ragnor a LOT because listen if i was a 15 year old and traumatically lost someone i cared about i would probably not be making A+ decisions either but this man is a whole adult and also said not one word to anybody in a position to stop them or at least keep an eye on them)

so like at the end of the day i feel like so much of tda is about characters being so caught up in their own spirals of shame or self-doubt or pain that they don't notice what's happening to the people around them until it's already happened, and that even the people who love you will not always do it perfectly or even well, but as for these two hopefully that's the character growth we'll see in twp- kit now having a baseline of familial love, being an older brother, and finding self-worth to the point where he can hold himself accountable for the things he does and recognize his responsibility to other people, and ty growing in confidence and trusting himself enough to realize he doesn't have to punish himself or shoulder so much blame and that he can acknowledge when other people have not done right by him.

#anyway maybe unpopular opinion but i'm actually glad they're apart right now because i think they needed it #in my opinion if i'm assigning blame to this situation about 90% of it goes to ragnor #for enabling this and hoping that the traumatized 15 year olds decide to make wise choices by themselves #but also i hope kit is realizing he isnt 'nothing' and that his choices affect other people #and that ty is realizing that he doesnt have to atone for like just wanting his sister back and kit's decisions #the wicked powers #twp #kit herondale #ty blackthorn

[bi-bard]

I Dial Drunk, I'll Die a Drunk, I'd Die for You - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Imagine [The Bear]

Title: I Dial Drunk, I'll Die a Drunk, I'd Die for You

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto X Reader

Based On: Dial Drunk

Word Count: 1,907 words

Warning(s): drunk character, a lot of cussing, argument, mention of unhealthy coping/bad mental health

Summary: A night of drunken grief lands Carmy in more trouble than he thought it would. He calls the one person that he remembers being able to rely on. His night of calls brings up old memories of the person that seems to be hellbent on ignoring him.

Author's Note: I knew that this song was going to be for Carmy since I first heard a clip of it on TIkTok.

**Flashbacks are indicated by "--" and italics**

NOAH KAHAN - STICK SEASON [WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

--------------------

The first missed call was understandable.

Carmy would've missed it too if someone decided to randomly call him at damn near three in the morning. He couldn't fault (Y/n) for that one.

But the second missed call made him close his eyes and shut his eyes.

He never wanted to be here.

He never planned to spend his night in a fucking cell. He never planned to be leaning his head on a payphone, trying to get in touch with the one person that probably never wanted to hear his voice again.

He had originally planned to spend the whole night alone. He was going to drink until he could pass out on his sad couch in his sad apartment and have a few hours where he didn't have to think about the world around him. A night without the pressure and guilt and anger seemed comforting.

He didn't truly remember why he left his apartment.

Truly, his only vivid memory was the cop pulling up next to him on the bridge as he drunkenly stumbled around. He didn't know what had led the cops to him, but he didn't truly feel like he had enough time to question it before he was getting placed in the back of the car.

Now, his head was starting to hurt, and he was getting more and more upset with the ringing on the line.

--

There weren't many people that Carmy tried to reconnect with.

That was usually because either they didn't have any desire to or because he didn't have any desire to find that out.

(Y/n) was an exception.

They had tried to keep in contact when he went to school. Carmy was the reason that such a plan didn't work. He didn't try like they did. It was some twisted consequence of his anger and self-worth issues and a million other problems that he didn't even acknowledge enough to try to solve.

When he came home, they were one of the first to find out.

Through all of the stress and chaos, they basically grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the restaurant for a while.

He ended up spending the morning with a cup of arguably shitty coffee and following (Y/n) around while they ran errands.

Somehow, he got dragged into a bookshop. He felt entirely out of place there. He spent most of his time looking at the covers and giving random feedback on how books looked.

"Thank you for coming out with me today," (Y/n) said after a while. "It really does mean a lot."

"Yeah, you're welcome," Carmy replied, admittedly zoned out before the fact. "Why did you want me to come with you?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "You just seemed so... overwhelmed. I thought that something like this would be a nice enough escape from whatever the fuck is going on in that restaurant."

"Oh," he nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," they chuckled.

Something in Carmy's mind seemed to click at that point. It was as if his body was moving without his conscious thought catching up.

(Y/n) was about to round the corner of one of the aisles before he caught their hand. They went to question him but didn't get the chance to do so before he leaned in and pressed his lips to theirs.

There were a few moments where (Y/n) froze where they were, but that soon wore off. Their arms wrapped around Carmy's neck as they kissed him back.

They started to grin into the kiss after a few moments.

And Carmy couldn't help but mimic them.

--

"Alright, come on."

Carmy snapped out of his thoughts when the cop spoke up.

"You clearly aren't gonna get an answer," the cop explained. "I can't let you spend all night on the phone."

"Fuck that," Carmy said simply before holding out his hand for another coin. "They'll answer. I know it."

The cop glanced around at the room around him. He knew that he shouldn't even entertain this idea. But, against his better judgment, he held out some more change for Carmy to use.

Carmy nodded as a silent thank you before turning back to the phone, silently begging for this to be the time that (Y/n) answered.

--

He didn't mean to slam the door.

In all of his anger and stress and poor coping abilities, Carmy wasn't thinking straight enough to stop himself.

He should have thought about it more. He got home at almost one in the morning. He knew that (Y/n) had been waiting for him. He knew that they probably had fallen asleep after work. But some part of him refused to acknowledge any of that.

"What the fuck," (Y/n) grumbled as they sat up from where they had fallen asleep on Carmy's couch.

Guilt found a place in Carmy's chest as he looked at their tired face.

(Y/n) rubbed the sleep out of their eyes before looking back at him. Their face went from tired to concerned in a matter of seconds. They had always been better at understanding his emotions than anyone else... even himself.

They made it over to him in a matter of seconds. Their hand found the side of his face. The feeling of their skin on his made his eyes fall shut for a moment as he took a deep breath.

"What happened," (Y/n) asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just... I'm really fucking tired."

He had a love-hate relationship with the knowing look that crossed (Y/n)'s face. It was great that he didn't need to perfectly explain his every emotion for (Y/n) to understand him, but it was awful to know that he had little chance of ever hiding how he truly felt from them.

With almost no words spoken, (Y/n) dragged Carmy to bed, letting him slip his shoes off and lay on top of the covers. They laid down next to him. He laid on his stomach and they laid on their side. Their hand ran through his sweaty hair, leaning over to press a kiss to his temple.

His eyes slowly closed as another kiss was pressed to his cheek.

He fell asleep that night feeling comforted for the first time in years... and he never knew how much he truly craved that.

--

"I don't know who the fuck this is, but you need to stop fucking calling me."

Carmy jumped when he finally heard a voice on the other end.

"Leave me alone-"

"(Y/n), wait!" he said quickly. "Please, don't hang up the phone."

There was a short pause. "Carmy?"

"Yeah," he let out a quiet huff.

"What do you want," they asked.

"I... I got myself in a bit of trouble," he explained. "I just... I need your help."

There was another pause between them. It was longer this time. Carmy wondered if he had been just a little less focused on himself, would he have heard the building anger from (Y/n)'s end of the call?

"You have some fucking nerve, Berzatto," (Y/n) snapped. The words came out like venom, stinging as they hit Carmy's ear. "I tried to help you! I always fucking have! No fucking more! Go fuck yourself, you selfish fucking prick!"

Carmy flinched a bit when the call suddenly dropped.

His jaw clenched.

"Come on-"

"Let me try again," he cut off the cop before the sentence could be finished. "Just... Just one more call."

He watched a pitiful look cross the cop's face. That was when he realized that tears had filled his eyes. The cop didn't know him or (Y/n) or why they were so quick to hang up the phone.

Another coin was placed in Carmy's palm.

Maybe it was for the best that the cop didn't know the truth.

--

He started the yelling.

(Y/n) didn't deserve it.

They had just been pushing so much. Pushing to know his thoughts and feelings. They wanted to help him so much.

He knew that. He knew that every intention was good.

But that didn't change the boiling anger sitting in his chest. He wanted to ignore and avoid everything, and he couldn't do that with (Y/n) constantly there. With them constantly asking the right questions and perfectly explaining what he needed to hear.

His foundation may have been unsteady and broken, but it was his. He didn't want to be pushed to change it. No matter how good that may have been for him.

"Shut up!" he snapped, cutting off (Y/n)'s words completely. "Stop trying to fucking fix things for two minutes!"

"I... I wasn't trying to-"

"Don't act like you don't know what the fuck you're doing," he shouted. He didn't stop to notice how (Y/n)'s eyes changed into this mix of sadness and fear. "You always fucking do this! You try to fucking fix me and the situation and everything! Do you have any idea how irritating that shit is?"

They didn't respond to him. They just sat there with their mouth opening and closing a bit as they contemplated if they should speak or not... and what they would say if they did.

"Guess what? If you gave a shit about me, then you would be able to be with me without trying to fucking- I don't know- mold me into... whatever the fuck you want from me!"

The silence that followed felt a million times louder than Carmy's yelling. It was tense. It felt heavy and suffocating. If he hadn't been such a stubborn asshole, then maybe Carmy would have apologized to bring an end to the feeling.

And then, (Y/n) finally moved.

They shoved past him and stormed out of the room. They only stopped at the door because they had to grab their shoes and jacket.

"Running away instead of talking to me now, huh?"

"Go fuck yourself," (Y/n)'s response was quiet, spoken through gritted teeth and embarrassing tears. "I never wanted to mold you into anything. I just... I wanted you to stop hurting."

"Not your job-"

"Yeah, you're fucking right, it's not," they turned back to him. "But would you have ever fucking done anything about it on your own?"

His jaw clenched and he didn't respond.

"And I let you treat me like shit in the name of you getting better... but you never fucking worked to do anything about the shit you were dealing with!"

He almost jumped at the yelling.

Their voice went back to that quiet, angry tone, "Never fucking contact me. Forget that I fucking exist if that's what it takes for you to leave me the fuck alone. I don't care. I am done."

He didn't move to stop them as they pulled the door open.

"Go fuck yourself, Berzatto."

The last thing that Carmy heard that night was the sound of the door slamming shut.

--

Carmy's muttered a few curses to himself before slamming the phone back on the hook.

"Let's go," the cop instructed. "Before you get embarrassed anymore."

Carmy sighed and ran his hands over his face before following the cop. Neither one of them spoke until it was time for the cop to finally leave Carmy to sit in the cell in his own misery.

"For what it's worth," the cop said, "I think it was shitty that you were treated like that."

Carmy just nodded.

He didn't have the heart to respond... to tell the cop the truth...

that Carmy deserved to have his calls ignored.

--------------------

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #the bear imagine #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

[gruesomegateau]

Killers and their s/o's pets

some general headcanons for how killers (Hillbilly/Wraith/Spirit/Huntress) would interact with an S/O's pet and how they would feel about various animals.

Max Thompson Jr / The Hillbilly

Max is not great with a lot of animals. Not all of them, but a lot of common domestic animals. A dog or pretty much any farm animal is going to be pretty tough to get him to do anything more than tolerate. He won't hurt them or anything, but he's going to try his best to avoid acknowledging that they're there at all.

Max is fully aware that the way he views these animals isn't fair- they're animals, after all, its not like they've wronged him on purpose. But his negative associations towards them is strong.

Other animals, however, Max is fine with. He might even be okay with small dogs like pugs or shih tzus, as they barely even resemble the police dogs that lead to his dislike of dogs as a whole.

Max likes cats. Partially because the cartoons that provided him small solace from his otherwise horrid life, but he also just enjoys watching the way they move and climb. Is completely unbothered by cats bringing in dead mice or snakes. Might even pet them for doing a 'good job'.

That said, Max also gets... jealous easily. He has a lot of insecurities around the idea of people like his parents valuing animals like pigs more than him.

Just know that if you're giving your pet affection in front of Max, Max is going to want affection to. Just some reassurance that you value him, too.

Max also finds insects to be interesting. He doesn't really like flies, he's seen enough of them and heard enough of their buzzing for a lifetime, but if his S/O keeps things like beetles or butterflies, Max will find that pretty neat. And, another big plus for Max, there's not really much of a way to show affection to or receive affection from an insect, so there's not much for him to get jealous over.

Fish fall into a similar category to insects, especially since Max hasn't really seen that many fish in-person before: not alive ones, anyway.

Philip Ojomo / The Wraith

Philip is good with most animals! He used to leave food in his garage for stray cats, so he has a fondness of cats in particular.

Animals also just like Philip. An old junker dog at Autohaven would bark and growl at every other employee as they came in, but not Philip. After he entered the realm and became 'The Wraith', the crows also seemed to have an affinity towards him, though those aren't exactly 'real' animals.

Still! Philip is fond of most animals and most animals are fond of him. Animals he's not familiar with he's more than happy to learn about.

Leave him alone with an animal and when you come back he will probably be cooing over it and talking to it. Stops being so affectionate when he realizes he's no longer alone.

Not that Philip's trying to hide his fondness of the pet, he'll still pet it and talk fondly of it in front of people, but its more reserved than when he's alone.

Rin Yamaoka / The Spirit

Rin's pretty average with her feelings on and interactions with animals. Likes your standard stuff, is a bit more hesitant with more unusual pets, like snakes or spiders.

Would really like a dog if thats what her S/O's pet is, if her financial situation in life allowed it she would have liked to have one herself, but she's a bit more hesitant now, worried a dog might run off with one of her floating limbs.

Other than that, Rin also gets a bit worried about being affectionate with anything, animals especially. At least with affection towards her S/O, they both know to be cautious of the glass imbedded in Rin's skin, but a lot of animals might not always know better.

Because of this, Rin's more reserved with giving pets or physical affection towards animals, but will give them a lot of silly, affectionate nicknames.

Anna / The Huntress

If you have a pet, you need to establish that with Anna well before introducing her to it.

Its not that the idea of a pet is entirely foreign to Anna; She's seen hunting dogs, and vaguely can recall wishing for one of her own as a young girl.

But that time has long passed, and her default view of anything other than herself and children is 'prey'. Establishing that this particular animal is not prey before introducing Anna to it is best to prevent any misconceptions from taking root in the back of her mind.

Naturally very curious about animals. Observing animals to learn their behaviors and weak points is engrained into her- of course, she won't hurt your pet on purpose once its established to her that it is your pet, but the way she watches it will still feel like a predator stalking its prey.

If you have a dog, she will want to try to use it as a hunting dog. Might be disappointed if its not a kind of dog that can easily be trained to do that, or is just too small for it.

She'll be a bit lost on how to interact with a cat initially, but comes to understand their behavior rather quickly. They're hunters, too, but prefer to hunt alone unlike dogs. She finds it respectable. Will be extremely delighted by a cat bringing back dead mice or snakes; She understands it as the cat bringing back food it hunted for its family. It might not be much of a meal for humans, but she can appreciate the sentiment of it.

Not going to be very affectionate to any animal at first because she isn't sure how to be. Anna will pretty quickly pick up on how her S/O shows affection to their pet and mimic that, though her petting of animals tends to have a bit more force behind it then needed.

Generally likes pets that are predator rather than prey- ironic, considering her rabbit mask. She likes an animal that can help hunt or defend itself.

#dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #the huntress x reader #the hillbilly x reader #the wraith x reader #the spirit x reader #first post first writing! #tried to write a good amount for all four of them but there was just more in my brain for some than others.

[princessasmosprincess]

I saw your asks were open and I ran right here! Could you write something about Asmodeus finding out that adult!mc is inexperienced in love and still hasn’t had their first kiss yet?

I’m not very experienced in the romance department myself, so this is something I’ve thought about quite a bit since Asmo is my fav. It would be so intimidating to be with Asmo, just because he is so experienced and he’s probably done EVERYTHING. At the same time it might be nice to let him take the lead? I think he'd be very gentle and reassuring as your “first,” whether that means kisses or something more intimate. I also don’t think he’d be judgmental, he’s been with all different types of people so nothing would surprise him.

I don't know what spirit possessed me, Anon, but I saw your ask and the words just kept coming. I do hope you like it ^ ♡ ^

***

Taboo

Genre: A little fluff, a little angst.

Warnings: Nonsexual nudity, not really suggestive but it does dance around the topic of sex, MC is a virgin and has never been kissed and feels embarrassed about it.

***

“...And can you believe, no one had ever told Marchosias that he was a bad kisser! Now, I don't mind if it’s a little rough but I’d prefer any hickies to be lower than jaw level, do you know how hard it is to cover them up even with magic? I swear, it was like making out with a suckerfish.”

Asmo slipped off his robe before folding it and setting it at the edge of the tub, smiling when you laughed at his description of the kiss. He did love an audience, and you hadn't heard most of his stories yet.

You were already in the tub, basking in the warmth and the light floral scent that wafted up with the steam.

Every once in a while Asmo would invite you for an evening bath to relax and gossip. Before you knew him well, you’d been wary of his intentions, but eventually you figured out his motives were relatively pure. He never once crossed your boundaries or made you feel uncomfortable. By now, you barely even acknowledged each other's nudity.

Asmo stepped into the tub, sinking into the cloud-like froth of bubbles, “I know he’s got that whole innocent 'I only give true answers to all questions’ thing going, so you don't want to hurt his feelings, but someone had to tell him.”

“Poor guy.” You laughed.

Asmo was usually the one who did most of the talking, but you didn't mind as long as you were able to get in a word from time to time. He always had a lot to say, so unless something particularly interesting happened to you at RAD, you’d let him go on for as long as he wanted.

“Oh, don't worry, I was gentle with him. I even gave him a private lesson, if you know what I mean.” He smirked, “But we never really talked again after that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… I'm pretty sure he was just trying to use me to get to the Celestial Realm anyway, as if I wasn't disgraced and cast down. Like, Solomon probably has more sway with my Father than I do at this point.” Asmo sighed and stretched, leaning back against the tub. “But that's enough about me and all of that… What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Asmo's amber eyes brightened, “I wanna hear about your romantic escapades, so spill.”

You hadn’t quite gotten to revealing many of the intimate details of your past to him or any of the brothers.

Your cheeks warmed, “I don't think any of my stories will be as interesting as yours.”

Asmo laughed, “Well of course not, dear, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about them.”

“I don't know, Asmo, I don’t really-”

“I won’t ask you to share anything too personal, if that's what you’re worried about,” He lifted a handful of bubbles to his face and blew them in your direction, “Ooh, what about your first kiss, you could at least tell me about that!”

You broke eye contact with him, chewing your bottom lip as you tried to come up with the right words to say, and when they did, they caught in your throat, “I- I can’t.”

A sly grin stole across his lips, “Darling, don’t be silly. Is it that embarrassing of a story? You can tell me, I promise I won’t share it with a soul.”

“That’s not it, Asmo.”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

Your voice came out barely above a whisper, “I haven't had my first kiss yet.”

Asmo blinked a few times, the air felt heavy around you, though he didn't seem to notice. He was more surprised than anything.

You’d never had your first kiss?

“Does that mean you're also a-”

You turned your head, willing away the tears pricking at your eyes. It was stupid, you knew. There were lots of people like you. But you felt so ashamed. So unloved.

You knew the question was bound to come up sooner or later, but you still felt unprepared.

“Oh.” Asmo’s gaze softened, not that you could see it. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-”

This was you, after all, adored by the future Demon King and the Avatars of Sin alike. He didn't think it was possible you could have lived for this long without so much as a kiss.

“It’s ok, Asmo, you didn't know.” You sighed, tilting your head back against the edge of the tub and closing your eyes. You needed a moment.

Asmo sank lower in the water, so his head sat just above the bubbles, his eyes never leaving you.

Asmo’s whole world for the longest time had revolved around himself and sex and carnal desire. That was just what it meant to be the Avatar of Lust. But in the grand scheme of things, experience in those areas didn't matter much at all. Passion was more important, whether it lasted a moment or centuries.

His heart ached for you. From your reaction, this was clearly beyond you simply not having an interest in intimacy. Asmo didn't understand how the opportunity hadn't come about for you. It infuriated him that other humans hadn't seen what he saw in you. How could anyone not love you?

Asmo hardly remembered his first, a face faded from millennia past, a kiss that hadn't made much of an impression after millions more, new and exciting feelings that had overwhelmed his senses at one point but would feel so tame to him now. But he did know that doing something new was always scary at first.

He could offer to help you take that step. To be your first. Of anyone in the entire universe, wouldn't the Avatar of Lust be the best possible first kiss? Wouldn't your first time with an expert make future opportunities feel less intimidating?

And if he was your first kiss, maybe he could be your first in other ways…

His gaze flickered to your lips.

But it didn't seem like the right time. Asmo had made a mess of things as it was. He knew he shouldn't have pressed you, but he had been too curious. Your feelings were already hurt.

He would talk to you about it some other time. Asmo didn't want you to think he pitied you and he didn't want to pressure you either. There was nothing shameful about your situation, whether you felt that way or not. It would do you no good to rush things when you were feeling so vulnerable.

No, he would wait for the right moment, and if you chose someone else as your first he would gracefully accept your decision.

Until then, he would show you how precious you truly were.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #asmo obey me #asmodeus obey me #asmo #asmodeus #asmo x mc #asmo x reader #asmo x gn mc #asmo x gn reader #asmodeus x mc #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x gn mc #asmodeus x gn reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "not making time" for my ex

So I (21F) met my ex (24M) at an internship I held last summer. We started seeing each other and things quickly developed into a full relationship. We spent a lot of time together as we worked 10hr days together 4 days a week and he always wanted to meet up on weekends. For a while every date was an overnight and our physical relationship began very quickly.

Fast forward a couple months and I moved back to college as I am finishing up my BA atm. He knew this going into the relationship and I made it explicitly clear that if he wanted things to continue, it was going to be long distance (its about 2-2 1/2 hours away). Shortly before this time he became extra clingy and angsty about me moving saying things like I never made time for him (our dates even prior to were never less than 10 hours) and when we weren't able to see each other for a couple days he would want to call and would want to talk for hours because he missed me even if I was busy or expressed that I didn't want to be on the phone as it is a very mentally draining task for me.

After 1-2 months of long distance, these problems got worse. Every time I saw him he would complain about not having enough time to do stuff with me and would often stay most of the weekend even if I would politely ask to have some time to do homework or just be by myself. He would say that he could help with my chores, homework or mental health time and didn't seem to understand my desire to do things independently. He kept saying that I wasn't letting him into my life enough and said that he hated the distance between us and wished he didn't have to drive so far. There were other issues that also kept piling on and eventually after much back and forth we broke up him citing that "he wasn't good for me" and things weren't working out.

During the month after our breakup I felt many things both guilty and sad but also a bit relieved as the fighting in our relationship had caused a lot of built up stress and anxiety that had pushed me to a very low place. In this time we had called a few times to discuss things and some calls went okay but others took turns and would leave me feeling hurt and confused. We had a meetup to talk in person about getting back together and I said for the time being I think we're better off as friends. He is someone I care a lot about and I do think that he has some dark shit to deal with and probably needs to seek counseling. I feel as if I have been very forgiving and kind but also acknowledge that I likely have some fault in the demise of our relationship as there are things I need to work on such as boundary setting and people pleasing.

Since this conversation many things have happened that complicate matters and I honestly feel a bit lost. There are times it feels like we could have a new beginning and others where all the old issues come screaming back into my face. I've said I don't want to be in a relationship with him right now and need time to work through things and he wants to keep up the physical part of our relationship as he sees that as something that didn't need fixing.

Recently we met up and I had set plans with my friends before and after we saw each other. He showed up mad that I had set plans with other people on the day that we had time together since it made things feel rushed and he wanted to actually be able to spend time with me. This ended up blowing up into an argument and he told me to "grow the hell up" and also said that I "needed to learn how to be in a real relationship". These things were incredibly triggering to me as I am both younger than him and this is also the first relationship and everything that I have ever been in. He told me that he didn't appreciate the fact that I never wanted to make time for him and said that this was true during our relationship as well. He said that if I couldn't do it he had other friends that cared about him enough and that he shouldn't have even come to see me since it was clear that I didn't give a shit.

Now I feel so lost since I have even after our relationship never flaked on him and have been overly honest about my insecurities and everything even outside of the relationship. He is someone I still really care about but every time something like this happens I feel that he is not good for me even if he does really care about me in all the ways he says. It hurts so bad even because amongst all these things we still have really nice times together where we can just be around each other and enjoy each others company. I know that I cannot separate these experiences as they happen with the same man and all my friends tell me this is manipulative behavior but I also worry that I'm overreacting.

So AITA? (sorry for the long post)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[inamindfarfaraway]

Stumbled across your post on Carmilla and Cain from one of my favorite artist and just wanted to say that I loved that post incredibly!!

I loved the way you articulated the ability for free will to shatter heavens expectations! It had me thinking about free will in general so thank you for sharing that goodness!

Thank you! This analysis just came to me as a fun little observation, I wasn’t expecting it to gain so much traction. Free will is very thematically important to Hazbin Hotel, isn’t it? Lucifer believed in the good it could do, but accidentally created evil by giving it to humanity and fell for it. Since then he’s seen all the pain free will can cause and become embittered. Charlie, however, believes like he used to and fought for human souls passionately and selflessly enough to bring him back around. The Elder Angels who ordered the Exterminations and the Exorcists who carry them out seem to alternately hate and fear free will’s power, and by their indiscriminate condemnation of sinners as inherently irredeemable, not want to acknowledge it at all.

If the theory that Adam could live on as a sinner in Hell turns out to be true, I’d love to see his character and thoughts on his mortal family and free will explored, because he must have SO much baggage, which could explain (though not excuse) him being The Worst. An interesting detail in the backstory Charlie reads is that he’s never actually stated to eat the forbidden fruit. We see Eve take it, but not him. Maybe the reason that he’s in Heaven, but we never see or hear of Eve or their children in either afterlife, is that in this canon’s version of Genesis, he’s obedient and didn’t commit the original sin, only to be cast out anyway. Regardless of what exactly happens in Eden, he and Eve are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Suddenly they need survival instincts. They can bleed and starve and get sick and loads of animals want to eat them. They have existential dread. Not to mention the marital tension. Why? Because the same angel who stole his first wife messed with his second one! As a result, people can sin. They can hurt each other. This allows Cain to invent murder on his brother. He’s then cursed to wander the Earth, eternally living with his guilt and grief. Oh, and where can dead souls live on now? Where might Abel be trapped forever? Hell, a dimension made of evil, everything bad about the new and degraded human experience taken to the ultimate extreme. You’ll never guess why it exists (Lucifer. It’s Lucifer again). So Adam loses two kids with one stone that was indirectly thrown by one fucking bird guy. Can you imagine how you would feel, having lived that life?

You would have issues. A lot of issues.

No wonder he scorns redemption so much. In his eyes, free will is synonymous with sin - with suffering. But thinking damned souls to be evil incarnate at least lets him take vengeance. It lets him feel the wrathful satisfaction of physically stabbing and hacking his way through representatives of the force that cost him paradise. Broke his family. Killed his child. Maybe he was a genuinely good person when he died. For the most part. Maybe stewing in all that unprocessed trauma while watching the horrors of human history unfold and being venerated and indulged in the perfect afterlife without any of his family changed him for the worse. If you can have a redemption arc in Hell, you can have a corruption arc in Heaven.

After all, Lucifer lost faith in humanity over time. But he has Charlie. Adam’s ‘daughters’ in Heaven are the Exorcists (he calls them “[his] girls” and names them, so he probably creates them), of which I bet Lute was the first. That’s a really twisted dynamic. Like, “From now on, my kids are killing people on MY terms”. Lute having parallels with Charlie makes her being the new main villain even better!

This got out of hand. What I mean to say is, the first human family and how they relate to the theme of free will have huge potential for exploration and development. And if Adam is reborn as a sinner, it would be precisely the Hazbin Hotel blend of heartbreaking and hilarious to have him reunite with Eve, Abel, Seth, etc. in Hell and they’re all like “What. The FUCK?” and his whole horrible personality just collapses in on itself.

#what have i DONE why did i humanize ADAM? #he’s THE WORST #but i guess he is human #that’s the point #he was fhe first human soul and immediately set the standard of suffering and getting fucked up #that fight scene where adam is pure rage and lucifer is gleefully mocking him isn’t so funny now is it? #lucifer: you come and me and my DAUGHTER #adam: oh now you care about kids? now you don’t want your kid to die? would’ve been nice if you’d thought of that in eden! #hazbin hotel #cain and abel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hh adam

[swordsandarms]

how would you describe the dynamic between aerys and rhaegar?? no matter what rhaegar was aerys's first and only child for a long time, and tbh i kinda love to delude myself thinking aerys loved him almost as much as he hated? him.....

Wrote about this before, but of course I can't find it, but since it's rarely given enough complexity anyways, might as well do it again.

This is the endless problem of not allowing Targaryens the right to be more than one dimensional and have complicated human feelings and Aerys is probably the sorest spot for it. A lot of people are finally backing down on the weird dehumanisation of Rhaegar, thankfully, but Aerys less so, as he is a big problem even for "Targaryen fans" - he is the sole Targaryen called fully "mad" - that can be acknowledged as that absolute sort of mentally unstable, and in a violent way that can be fully antagonistic, too - bringing that whole can of worms used against a whole 300 years worth of generations of a family, so everyone stays away.

Here comes the tired disclaimer that of course I've got to put out over and over before writing of Aerys as a mere person instead of a fairytale boogieman: he wasn't a good guy with particular virtues; he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed; he wasn't a proactive, great King, and although he spoke of great plans that sounded sound didn't put in the effort to accomplish anything; he wasn't a good father and least of all husband for most of his life, even in his better days with less excuses (well, explanation) to it. Etc etc

But he had the complexity of feelings and behaviour of a whole person! I've said it before but Aerys is one of these background characters dead before the story starts that gets TONS of interiority that adds so much nuance to this otherwise muddled portion of history, but he's not a "nice dead victim" and hence gets little attention while less "lesser" background characters get essays of made up fanon.

Aerys' desire for both successful lineage and grandeur for his House clashing with his deep personal insecurities is more of a downward spiral than his actual mental illness. (Again, something I touched on in a different post that Tumblr won't let me find) Aerys wants and fails to be anything grand, and Rhaegar being seen as great while being nothing like him is a sour spot, because if greatness is his opposition what does that mean? Of course he latches onto Viserys when it's clear he's got his character.

But what about Rhaegar? Did Aerys love him? Did Rhaegar love his father once? He was his prized heir in a positive sense for the longest of their relationship. He kept him close in detriment of his mother's claim on him (took him to Casterly Rock for a year when Joanna died). But does that necessarily say anything about love?

This is the man who would end up hurting his sister, who would be open about the intention to wish bad things upon his child, but he's also grieved these children with his sister once, he's turned to the gods humbled despite his self righteous arrogance, asking if it's him, if he can do anything to make it better.

And, in his madness, Aerys kills Brandon and Rickard for "threatening Rhaegar". Which is fascinating. I've been trying to think of whether he is trying to put Rhaegar in a worse position by it, but it doesn't work. If it were the case, he'd be glad to latch onto the accusations and make the best of it, instead of becoming the bad guy further by "protecting Rhaegar". If he weren't able to think that straight, at least his advisors would (he's got plenty of "whisperers" in his ears, we are told, and they are against Rhaegar's faction). But if they tried, but if they tried it's clear the "he threatened Rhaegar" convoluted thought won.

And I joke about the Rhaenys moment supposedly being the breaking point in Aerys and Rhaegar's relationship from his point of view (of all things) but... With these powerful families, the personal and political are in a constant clash. Yet it is quite something that political tensions are all high ("like before the Dance"), Aerys' undermining and threatening Rhaegar's position is open knowledge, and yet, what gets to Rhaegar finally is his father rejects his child - rejects family.

Was there only honour and "doing things right" in lieu of kinslaying? Was there a reason why it was hard to give up on his father and admit to himself he wasn't salvageable in any lesser ways until it's too late?

And oh, he was ever so aggravated by Rhaegar being so good at things and admired for it, but when he dies in battle... There surely must be some conspiracy, some betrayal for his shining son to be gone. Rhaegar himself wouldn't just be bested without a better explanation! Someone ought to answer for it, damnit!

#asoiaf #rhaegar targaryen #aerys targaryen #house targaryen

[summer-nights19]

You don't know me part 2

Daiki Aomine x fem reader

As you looked at Aomine, you couldn't help but notice how much he'd changed in the last years. He was considerably taller and more well built, but his face had also changed, matured. It was enough to trigger a rush of long forgotten and unwelcome feelings from deep inside you.

"Daiki... congratulations on winning," you said, offering him a small smile. He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, which, to him it probably was.

"The more I play, the more boring basketball becomes. There are no rivals even close to my level,"

For some reason, listening to that felt like being stabbed in the gut. You took a deep breath and averted your gaze, directing it down your useless arms.

"At least you can still play,"

You'd said it more to yourself than to him, but, judging from the flash of regret on his face, he'd still heard you. He opened his mouth, but you beat him to it.

"Sorry Dai, that was uncalled for. Anyway, how have you been ? It's really been ages," you forced a smile, hoping he'd play along

"I've been bored, and school's been a pain in the ass. What about you ?"

"Not too bad. I'm in the literature club now," you said as you started to walk in the direction of the bus stop. Aomine followed you as if, after three years, it was still the most natural thing in the world.

"The literature club, huh ? You always were a nerd," he teased with a smirk. You simply elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow- that hurt, asshole," he said, shooting you a glare. You carried on teasing each other and laughing until you reached the bus stop.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around then," you said, smiling as you got on the bus

Something like disappointment flashed on Aomine's features, so quickly you thought you'd imagined it.

"See you around,"

You felt giddy as you walked onto the bus and sat down. Your heart was racing pleasantly, and your cheeks were warm. Seeing Aomine again had awoken feelings within you that you weren't ready to name.

It would be too messy, too painful.

The more you sat there on your own and remembered, the more the fluttering in your stomach faded to a dull ache.

No. The past must stay in the past.

(3 years prior)

That day had been an ordinary day in every regard. It was the semifinals match of the last season of your middle school career. The boys' season had finished two weeks prior, and, as usual, they'd gotten the bigger, better stadiums and a lot more attention from the press. While you tried not to let it bother you too much, you'd still mentioned it to your friends a few days prior.

"Well, of course. Men's sport is significantly more profitable than women's, so it is only logical that most of the resources would go into it," Midorima had replied once you'd finished ranting.

"I don't care. It's still bullshit that women who work just as hard only reap half the reward," you'd stated, glaring at him defiantly.

"Y/N, instead of wasting time talking with this nerd, why don't you come play me ? The winner is the one who deserves the bigger stadium,"

You felt the corners of your lips rise at Daiki's challenge. Without hesitation, you followed him to the court outside, where you spent the next few hours.

That evening was the closest you'd ever come to beating him.

You were thinking of that moment as you got on the court with your four best teammates. As you lined up with them, you promised yourself that you'd play so well that people would be forced to acknowledge women's sports as more than just a footnote.

It had happened during the last quarter. You'd had the other team beaten by 70 or so points, so there was no turning it around for them. However, you refused to relax. You'd play a memorable game from start to finish - this was what you decided as you jumped to dunk the ball into the hoop. Just as you were reaching the peak of your jump, you felt a sharp push from behind you. To this day, you had no idea if it had been deliberate or not.

You fell, landing right on your bent arms and breaking them both. The last thing you felt was a sharp pain from within before you passed out.

When you'd woken up again, you were in a hospital bed. Both of your arms were bandaged, and your head felt fuzzy. You felt something warm on your face and looked up to see Aomine in a chair next to your bed, his hand cupping your cheek. As soon as he realised you were awake, he withdrew it quickly.

"How are you feeling ?" He asked, after a moment of silence

"Dai ? What happened ?"

"You wrecked your arms pretty badly yesterday on the court. They suspended the match, and you were taken to hospital,"

You moved to sit up and felt a sharp jolt run through your arm. You winced, slowly remembering the events of the day before.

"Don't move. If you need something just-"

Before Aomine could finish talking, a doctor came in and smiled at you. It was a sad, almost pitiful smile.

"L/N ? I heard you were awake from outside the door. There are a few things you should know. Before that, though, I must ask your friend to leave,"

"I won't do that," Aomine replied before you could, glaring at the doctor.

"It's ok sir, he's my best friend," you said in a small voice. The doctor frowned.

"Sorry, it's hospital policy. It'll be quick." Aomine sighed and walked out of the door, shooting the doctor one last glare.

"Miss L/N... I'll be blunt with you. Your arms will heal for the most part. There shouldn't be any long-term effects on your daily life. However, to avoid causing permanent damage, you won't be able to play basketball again,"

You stared at the doctor and blinked, unsure if you'd heard correctly. The grave expression on his face confirmed it. In the blinked of an eye, the numbness you'd felt was replaced with a piercing stab through the heart as you fought to hold back tears.

"Doctor, you can't - it's my passion -"

"I'm sorry, Miss L/N. But we just can't risk it unless you want to damage your eyes for good. I appreciate it's hard for you to hear this, so I'll give you a moment."

As the doctor stepped outside, the dam finally broke and you let the tears flow freely. Your career. Your team. Your friends. Everything you'd worked so hard to build was crumbling before your eyes, and you were completely helpless.

When Aomine finally returned, he didn't ask any questions. He just hugged you yo himself and let you cry on his shoulder until visiting hours finished.

Masterlist

#knb fanfic #knb x reader #knb #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine daiki x reader #gom x reader #knb angst #hurt/comfort #slow burn