#I was having a bad day when I wrote it.

[armored-angel4798]

2023

Steve knew, the moment he saw Eddie’s first message that he wasn’t going to like what they had to say.

EdM0112: Are you busy?

KingSteve: no, why?

EdM0112: I have some silly little news to give you. It’s nothing bad!

KingSteve: what is it? Wait, let me guess, YOU’RE PREGNANT!

EdM0112: hahaha, no, nothing like that.

KingSteve: so what?

EdM0112: I am engaged!

KingSteve: oh, really? That’s Great!!!

It was, in fact, not great. Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt so, unbelievably heavy and tears started pouring, unbidden, down his cheeks. Robin. He needed Robin, she would know how to help him. She helped him the last time his pesky feelings came out of the hole he had buried them in.

See, Eddie and Steve had never been good together. Steve was well aware of this fact, thanks to endless hours of talking to Robin. They were teenagers when they first got together, and neither of them had any clue how a relationship should work. Eddie was figuring themself out and they weren’t comfortable with Steve’s easy affection or deep wells of devotion and love. Steve had been too much. He had loved much too hard and much too fast and it ran Eddie away. They had never been good at the communication side of the relationship either. They were never on the same page or even in the same book most of the time. Yet, none of this had stoped Steve from giving his heart to Eddie. None of this made him think for even a millisecond that they couldn’t figure it out, that they couldn’t be together, that they wouldn’t be together forever.

Steve had always thought that he would be the one putting a ring on Eddie’s finger. Until Eddie handed his heart back to him in a million tiny pieces.

2019

“Eddie, please. I love you, Eddie.”

“Steve, we aren’t good for each other, can’t you see that? We haven’t done anything other than hurt one another this whole past year of dating.”

“You don’t have to do this Eddie! I can be better, I can be whatever you need me to be, just please don’t leave me.”

“Steve, the fact that you don’t see how fucked up that is only solidifies that this isn’t good for either of us.”

Steve was sobbing. He was sobbing and Eddie was mad at him. He just needed to know what he was doing wrong. He could fix it. He had to fix it. If Eddie left it would just prove what his parents had always shown him. He is unloveable. He is never good enough. Never strong enough. Never caring enough. Never enough. He just wanted to be enough.

“Steve, this has to be over. For both of us.” Eddie sounded so exasperated. So tired.

Steve nodded, still sobbing.

“I’m… I’m sorry that I couldn’t make you happy, Eddie. I’m sorry. Please, I love you.”

“And I’m sure I will always love you, but I’m leaving. I have to go. I can’t be myself here, Steve.” Eddie was whispering now, running their cool hand down Steve’s cheek. Steve watched Eddie’s tears roll down their own cheeks as they wiped his away. “I’ll still be just a phone call away, but I have to move on.”

Steve grabbed Eddie’s wrist and nodded. Giving up hurt worse than anything but he couldn’t keep causing Eddie pain. He couldn’t keep them here if they would be unhappy and anything other than wholly themself. Eddie moved across the country that day and never looked back.

2023

Steve isn’t really sure when he called Robin, but he apparently did because she was here. She was picking him up off of the floor that he had sank to, his phone still on the couch cushion behind him.

“Hey, hey, Steve” she patted his cheeks and he blinked. “There you are. What happened Stevie? You called but never said a word so I came to check on you. You don’t look good. Why are you crying?”

Steve brought his own hand up to his cheek, it came back wet.

“Eddie is getting married.”

“Woah, okay. I didn’t even know they were dating anybody.”

“Me either” Steve whispered.

“And how are you handling this information?” Steve gave her a glare that he’s sure lost some of its sterns by his no doubt puffy eyes. “Yeah, so not great.” Steve snorted. “Do ya want to talk about it.”

“I thought I was done with this. I thought I had moved past it. Why? Why did I break the moment they told me that they were engaged.”

“I’ve gotta be honest here, Steve, the situation you put yourself in wasn’t the best. You knew Eddie was moving on. They told you they were. You never really let them go. You stayed close and kept your own hopes up. This just crushed them.”

Steve flopped his head over on her shoulder.

“Why cant you be my therapist, again?”

“Conflict of interest, babe. I would be too clouded by my love for you to give you the advice you need.”

“It’s never stopped you before.” Robin chuckled and ruffled his hair. “I don’t think I ever actually let myself work through my heartbreak. I just kind of shoved it down far enough that it wasn’t a problem to keep talking to Eddie as if they’d never broken my heart. I still wanted them to be my best friend. Eddie knows me better than almost anyone, besides you, and it felt harder to lose that than to bury my feelings.”

“Yeah, you’ve buried more than you would ever let anyone you love even think of going through. Don’t you think you’ve held on to enough? Just let it go, Steve. It’ll be okay. I’ll be here.”

“You won’t leave me too?” Steve’s voice sounded so so small, even to himself.

“Never.”

And Steve broke.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[audliminal]

It's barely the end of the first day of school, and three faculty members are dead. Nobody knows much yet, but supposedly the six freshman who all managed to get detention on the very first day of school were involved and, if the rumors are to be believed, two of them actually died. In a dumb fight in the cafeteria against some animated corn. Kipperlily rolls her eyes when she hears it. They're clearly a bunch of losers who are going to either drop out or get someone killed before the year is out, but that's not really her problem, is it?

Still, just to be on the safe side, maybe their party should spend some time in the woods behind the school, and get some practice in with rats and things before they find themselves involved in a fight like those dumb detention kids did.

It's a month into the school year, and Kipperlily's starting to get the hang of things. She's feeling comfortable in a fight now, they've been killing rats and twig gremlins in the Far Haven Woods as often as they can manage, and they're getting really good at it. They even have a name now, the High 5 Heroes, chosen by Kipperlily herself, of course.

Meanwhile, Kipperlily's pretty sure the kids from detention actually killed someone, though nobody seems to be talking about it. Kipperlily doesn't care what anyone says, she's heard multiple people say they saw members of their group talking to Penelope Sam and Johnny spells, and then the day after Johnny Spells gets killed in a fucking car chase, the rich kid, who's literally the son of a pirate, has a mysterious new motorcycle? It's all far too suspicious.

It's the week after winter break, and Kipperlily is stuck in the stupid guidance councilor's office, talking about her dumb feelings. Unlike the Bad Kids (and what kind of stupid name is that), who apparently had an adventure dropped in their lap within minutes of the first school day ending, Kipperlily has been waiting months and still nothing has popped up. Plus Oisin and Ivy keep joking about changing their party name to the Rat Grinders.

It's dumb. Who would want a party name that's based on some joke? Besides, she already chose the name. So why on earth would they change it now? At least Lucy seems to agree with her about it.

It's just days after prom, and Kipperlily is sick of everything. The stupid Bad Kids apparently crashed prom and literally defeated Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste. It's honestly bullshit. A dumb group of kids that couldn't even make it through one day of school without getting one third of their party killed, and they're being credited with saving the entire continent? Kipperlily's been digging into the Bad Kids' history with every moment of her free time, trying to figure out how a bunch of dumb untrained kids managed something so huge. And she thinks she might have cracked it.

Kristen Applebees is literally Helio's Chosen One, and apparently Adaine Abernant is the new Oracle of the Elves. Kipperlily doesn't know what Fig, Fabian, or Gorgug's deals are yet, but if rumors are to be believed, then Riz Gukgak's dad was eaten by the very same Kalvaxus. Clearly the entire reason the Bad Kids are succeeding is because of their personal histories.

And to make matters worse, Oisin and Ivy managed to get the rest of the party to go along with the stupid Rat Grinders name. and Mary Ann didn't even have a reason for it! The only one who voted with her was Lucy. So now they've got a dumb name and no real adventuring prospects, and all the while, a bunch of kids who skip classes and get arrested are somehow getting perfect grades with no effort.

It's sophomore year and everything is terrible. The Rat Grinders meet every day to kill rats in the woods and it's dumb and boring, and not even a little bit difficult anymore, and she has to go to weekly councilor sessions with Jawbone, who's an ally of her rival adventuring party, which. Aguefort already clearly likes them, and even before he was resurrected they had managed to get two of their allies positions in the school. Which has to be an unfair advantage. And now Fig's dad is the vice principal rather than the lunch lad. It's really no wonder they never seem to get in trouble for skipping classes or any of their other bullshit.

At least she can use their connection with Jawbone to her advantage. Every meeting with him, she mines him for new information on the Bad Kids, who have been doing absolutely nothing so far this year.

It's sophomore year and The Rat Grinders are going to finally get their chance! Porter and Jace have approached her with the opportunity of a lifetime! Porter even said she shows a lot of promise! He doesn't even seem to take issue with his anger, and he says that he's going to help her become an amazing adventurer. All she has to do is accept this weird little rage star thing and start worshipping some dead god of rage. Kipperlily honestly isn't that much into religion, but this is the first interesting thing to happen to her all day. She's already working to convince Lucy to change her god.

It's sophomore year and even as Kipperlily is finally making progress, the Bad Kids are still showing her up. Somehow, they ended up fighting the Nightmare King himself, defeating him and somehow in the process, Kristen Applebees managed to ressurect a dead god of her own. It's bullshit and literally the only reason they manage to get back in time for the end of spring break is the direct intervention of the principal again. Plus now Fig has somehow managed to become an Archdevil and start dating Principal Aguefort's daughter. As if she wasn't already a rockstar.

It's sophomore year and Kipperlily's going to make the Rat Grinders the best adventuring party at Aguefort, even if it kills her.

It's junior year and the Bad Kids seemed determined to ruin her life. It's bullshit. They literally didn't even know who she was before this year, and they seem determined to ruin everything she's working towards. On the first day of school, they all collectively decided that Kristen was going to run for school president, seemingly as a bit, the exact second that they find out she's running. And immediately on meeting her they made fun of her fucking name for literally no reason.

It's junior year and everything's going to plan. Kristen's been expelled, and the Bad Kids are taking The Last Stand, and they've got the perfect opportunity to get rid of all the Bad Kids for good. And yet somehow Kristen fucking Applebees manages to ruin their fucking plans perfectly, spotting her out before she can succeed in killing the proctor and Buddy. Instead she has to kill Buddy and let Oisin take her away before the Bad Kids can do anything. So of course the Bad Kids get a literal perfect score on The Last Stand, and now they've all aced their classes for the whole year.

It's junior year and they're summoning a dead god. It's junior year and they find out as they're casting the spell, that the name they'd gotten was fucking wrong. It's junior year and despite all their preparations the Bad Kids have managed to get to the gymnasium with all their stupid fucking votes. It's junior year and Kipperlily is at least going to kill Riz. It's junior year and Riz literally dives into lava.

It's junior year and Kipperlily's going to kill Riz. He thinks he's hiding, but she can see him, and she's going to have to close with him, but this is her opportunity, and then she's in the air, and he's got her in a hold person spell, and she's falling, and she's in the lava, and it's so hot, and it burns, and then it's all gone.

It's junior year and Kipperlily is dead. It's junior year and she's in a world of crystal spines and lava, and in the reflections of the crystals, Kipperlily can see everything. She sees herself in those wretched meetings with jawbone, kicking at the leg of the chair, and she can see Jawbone asking her every fucking time, what can she do to become a better adventurer. As if it was ever in her control. As if she ever could have done anything. As if it wasn't all about her backstory the whole time. As if she weren't the boring daughter of two boring people. As if she had ever had a chance.

"Did you ever try?" She hears a voice ask. And then Ankarna is there. The god that she tried so hard to kill. "Did you ever really try to become a better adventurer, or did you just wait for it to happen to you?"

"I did everything I could!" Kipperlily insists. "It's unfair, why should they get all the advantages?"

"Were they really ever advantages? Or did you just decide they were?"

"You think those idiots deserved their success? All they ever do is screw around!"

"That is not what I have seen of them. Nor have I seen any better of you. Of course, you did your schoolwork and you did it to the letter, but when did you ever challenge yourself? When did you ever take a risk? When did you ever seek out a task that was more than what you felt certain you would succeed at? Would you have even have the courage to take part in Porter's plan if he had not personally trained you, ensured that you were all as powerful as possible? You insist that the Bad Kids are only successful because of their tragic history, but what of Gorgug? There is not one thing in his past that drives him and yet he has succeeded at doing things no one else has ever managed." Ankarna stares long and hard at her, and then she is gone and Kipperlily is alone again. With nothing in her death but her own thoughts to keep her company.

[andy-clutterbuck]

4x02 | Infected

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI.

[zentriii]

Kiyoomi scrunches her nose. She’ll never get Motoya’s obsession with plants. It was fine when it was just succulents, those are easy enough to take care of, but flowers fucking reek.

It’s not a bad smell per say, but it’s stupidly strong in this shop, even with her mask up. They’re pretty at least, she’ll give them that.

She’s debating between the pretty blue flowers and the silly, warm yellow ones. Motoya should have never trusted her judgment, how’s she supposed to resist the urge to tease her for always being in a yellow coloured team? At least Kiyoomi can say she’s escaped it in the Black Jackals cause gold isn’t yellow.

“Is there anythin’ I can help you with?” A pretty blonde girl in a red apron asks. Kiyoomi nearly jumps out of her skin, where’d she come from?

“Um, can I get these?” Kiyoomi points at the two, ready to bolt out of here because Employee Girl is way too gorgeous for her to not make a fool out of herself. Her palms are sweaty and she’s so grateful her mask is covering half her face.

The girl leans in way too close to Kiyoomi’s space and reads the labels, “Cornflower and fressia? I can put them together for you but d’you wanna check out the white freesia’s instead? They’d be real pretty together.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kiyoomi could be asked for her credit card information right now and she’d hand it over no questions asked. What did she ask her for again?

“Great, they’re over this way.” Employee Girl walks away and what else is Kiyoomi supposed to do but follow?

The flowers they stop at all look the same to Kiyoomi but she holds her breath as the girl talks about a few different ones, pointing them out and saying stuff about how pretty things look prettier together. Her name tag reads “Miya O.” A pretty name for a pretty girl. She wonders what the O stands for.

“That sound good?”

Kiyoomi nods, Miya’s voice sounds great in fact.

“Well you’re in luck! We finished our orders for today so I can put it together for ya right now but please submit a request a few days in advance next time. We’re pretty busy during the afternoon so ya picked a decent time to come in.”

Miya picks a few different flowers and the blue ones from before – the cornflowers – and heads to the back. Kiyoomi wants to protest but she’s just a customer and Miya’s an employee doing her job.

Miya peeps her head out after closing the door. She bites her lip before calling out, “Can I ask ya for a favour?”

“Uh, sure.”

“If ya see a girl with my face try an’ clock in, tell her she’s s’pposed to be in bed right now. My sister’s a bit of a workaholic, I stole her name tag this mornin’ for her own good.”

She assumes Miya means that she’s a twin but that’s not fair to her at all. She’s just a girl. Kiyoomi only hopes she won’t have to see the two of them together. One pretty girl’s bad enough for her heart as is.

The time passes by in a blur. At one point she’s keeping a vague eye out for Miya’s clone to walk in while looking at the different flowers; the next she’s being given her bouquet, paying for it, and waving bye to the prettiest girl in the world.

Oh well, it’s not like she’s the main character in a yuri manga.

Kiyoomi drops off the flowers at Motoya’s. She’s supposedly too busy taking care of her sick girlfriends to make the trip herself. Kiyoomi wonders if that excuse is just bullshit since it’s been months and she’s still not met Osamu and Rin yet. Unfortunately, Motoya’s apartment’s stuffy and reeks of sickness so maybe there’s some truth to Motoya’s words.

Maybe.

“You got the flowers?” Motoya closes her room door behind her, thankfully right before a loud sneeze is released by one of her definitely real girlfriends. Well there goes that bet Kiyoomi had going with Yachi.

“Yeah, I still don’t get why you can’t have a normal hobby. These things die in like, a week.”

Motoya fusses over the flowers for a bit, making them nice and pretty in a clean vase that held her last bouquet. “One, Samu gets all blushy when I give her flowers and two, I just like them. It’s low stakes responsibility that forces me to have my shit together.”

Kiyoomi snorts. Motoya’s always had her shit together, even if it looks like a mess on the outside. Her cousin is one of the most ruthlessly competent people she knows.

“Hey Kiyo, where’d you get these by the way?” Motoya asks cutting the store tag off a stem.

“Doesn’t it say there?” Kiyoomi asks. “Miya’s Boutique I think.”

“Well whichever employee rang you up left you a little something.” Motoya tosses the label to her with a smug little smirk.

Kiyoomi wants to shove her hand into her face to wipe it off, but Motoya would lick her first and she doesn’t want to think about where her tongue’s been, sick partners or not.

She takes a look at the what Motoya meant and pretends like the name and numbers aren’t sending a rush of blood straight to her face. She carefully tucks it into a pocket while maintaining eye contact with her menace of a cousin. Motoya can smell the smallest twinge of embarrassment in a crowd and she is not to be trusted to mind her own business.

She laughs at nothing, like the airhead Kiyoomi’s always known her to be, but there’s something unsettling in the knowing glint in her eyes. Kiyoomi firmly ignores it: if it isn’t acknowledged, it isn’t real.

“Oh this is killing me, Kiyo you’ve gotta come over next week. Please I think I’ll die.” Motoya abandons her flowers in favour of hanging off of her arm and giving her stupid puppy eyes. “You can bring whoever left you their number. Actually, please bring them, you’ve gotta.”

Fuck, how’s Kiyoomi supposed to say no to her puppy eyes.

“Fine, but fat chance I bring her over.”

Motoya sniffs hautily, like Kiyoomi’s doing her a great disservice. “You’ll regret it.”

“Doubt it,” Kiyoomi sighs, hoping future-her doesn’t give in to Motoya’s ridiculous demands.

She leaves with a halfhearted wave, feeling preemptive disappointment in herself because she knows Motoya’s not going to let her go so easily. Whatever. She’s got better things to spend her energy on.

How many i's in a “hi” is too desperate to send?

[b4kuch1n]

tdov was like a week ago already but I just wanna say when I came over to vacation slash help my sworn brother move flat he told me, "ever since you said you wanted to get top surgery I've been thinking about it. it's straight up number two on my bucket list"

[discjude]

it is literally 4 in the morning and I can't fully articulate this but like. I spent a whole lot of time trying to work out who the "third" in Rise + Fall is (given the 'two works well, three complicates things' rule in Fall) mostly because its the sort of thing that works really well for parallels (example: my insane Hook theory). Obviously there has to be a Third for the Prequels twins (since Soman wouldn't've made it that big of a deal if there wasn't), just as there is a third for the TSY and TCY twins: Tedros is the Third in TSY, and the Complicator Of Things himself - Aric - is the Third in TCY, but there's a lot more candidates for Prequels: you could make cases for Hook, the Pirate Captain, Pan, and Vulcan, from my memory. But none of them really stay around long enough for them to be the third, so I was struggling to pick one out that worked well.

Based on how the Rule Of Three is described, the Third has to be someone that gets in the way of two others, who are going to be the twins, and needs to do a significant amount of Complication. Aric is literally the blueprint for this (potentially also Evelyn, but also not Evelyn, for Reasons). So anyway looking back on it the Third in Rise and Fall is SO OBVIOUSLY the Storian itself and im mad I didn't clock this earlier

It's present through both prequels, where most of the other candidates aren't. It DEFINITELY gets in the way and DEFINITELY does some significant Complication, looking at the end of Fall. If I were to reach slightly, the first image we see in Rise and Fall is of the Storian physically between the brothers, mirroring how it ends up coming between them emotionally, and I like to think that's intentional (Book 2's cover does this as well).

More importantly, there's another part to the Rule Of Three pattern with the sets of twins that isn't explicitly stated, but is consistent between all three: the Third always replaces one twin to form the Two with the other. in TSY, this happens with Tedros and Agatha (predominantly). In TCY, this happens with Aric and Japeth - this is why Evelyn can't be the TCY third in my opinion, since she doesn't replace either twin, and breaks this pattern. in Rise and Fall, this happens with the Storian and Rafal. There isn't really a pattern to whether the Good/Evil twin gets replaced, unless you want to go into some very very very bit leaps ive thought about regarding the whole "was Rhian II evil or good before becoming Rafal, and does that also affect Japeth doing the same thing" thingy but I could not fully explain that stuff ever. There is probably so much more nuance I could add to this if only I reread TSY but that will happen Some Other Time

[armored-angel4798]

Part 2

CW: SUICIDAL IMPULSES, IMPLIED SUICIDE, MCD

Steve didn’t make it out of bed for a week. He wasn’t eating. He couldn’t. Moving from his bed was a monumental effort. He didn’t have the motivation for it. He wasn’t hungry. Robin was giving him space. The kids were giving him space. Breathing was almost impossible. Eddie was gone and everyone thought he was too broken to be helped. He could just find a way to see Eddie again, right? Maybe if he didn’t eat for long enough he would starve to death. Maybe if he had been better Eddie would still be around and Max, poor, sweet, Max wouldn’t be in a coma. Sometimes he could hear Eddie’s voice when he was especially tired, because god forbid he could sleep through all of this sadness, telling him how it was all his fault. One week would have turned into two if he hadn’t gotten violently ill on the 10th day from thoughts of the mind-flayer taking over Eddie’s body. All he expelled was bile. Maybe he should take the car out to the quarry and just…. be done. Everyone was still “giving him space” three weeks after the upside down. Steve was getting weaker, his thoughts were getting darker. He just wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted. The simple thought of food made him feel like he was going to puke again. Eddie’s voice ringing constantly in his ears. “Don’t worry, Eds, I’ll see you soon.” Steve sobbed into his empty room.

There were knives downstairs, he could….

All of the kids except Max, of course, attended the funeral. Robin was a screaming mess. She blamed herself. Dustin… Dustin had lost both of his brothers. They all blamed themselves in some way. They should have checked on him sooner. Robin will never not close her eyes and see her platonic soulmate lying in a pool of dried blood, eyes closed, and chest still.

Part 1

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew

[pro-sipper]

is it okay to be a shotacon(to fictional characters only) despite being around 12-15 yourself Σ(っ °Д °;)っ

i feel guilty to be thinking dirty thoughts about characters i like that are my age (12-15) (┬┬﹏┬┬)

i really cant control my own thoughts huhu .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

There's nothing wrong with having those feelings about people your own age. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with having those feelings towards fictional characters. It's normal to feel those things at that age, and there's not anything to feel guilty about.

Hope you make peace with it, nonny!

[thegeminisage]

perpetual chicken and egg question are you not writing fanfiction because you're depressed or are you depressed because you're not writing fanfiction. write fanfiction and find out today

[weareuniqueandimportant]

EMPATHY GLAMORIZATION IS NOT ABOUT EMPATHY BUT SUPERIORITY TORWARDS APATHETIC PEOPLE BIGOTRY TORWARDS THEM TYPICAL BIGOT EVIL. SIMPLE AS THAT. IF YOU SEE THEM AS LEFTIST YOU'RE NO LEFTIST YOURSELF. HORRIBLE. THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO HAVE ONLY EMPATHY AND BAD TO THINK EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SUCH ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING APATHETIC IF ANYTHING WHEN THEY DO THIS...

COMES TO SHOW BIGOTRY TORWARDS CRAZY AND DISABLED PEOPLE ASWELL AS PARAPHILIA PEOPLE ISN'T TAKEN AT ALL THE SAME AS SEXISM RACISM AND QUEERPHOBIA... OR PERHAPS... LIKELY... THEY ARE ALL THE BIGOTED THINGS EVIL AND TAKE NONE THAT SERIOUSLY... BELITTLING DOWN THEIR PAIN AND DAMAGE...

[m3llowm1sh]

mish’s relationships with the rd cast