#both blame themselves and haunted by their mistakes

[sorcerersandskillusers]

I want to talk about one of the most terrifying and interesting bsd characters who almost no fan remembers.

This character nearly tore down the ADA without ever getting involved herself, yet the entire fandom has ignored her because of her terrible anime adaptation.

Who am I talking about?

Nobuko Sasaki

If you haven't read Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam, then you probably don't even know who this character is, in the anime she is watered down to the lovesick girlfriend of an actual villain, and you probably dismissed her immediately. But in the light novel, we get to see how dangerous and cunning she really is, to the point she nearly gets the better of Dazai and almost causes the ADA to be shut down. (Fukuzawa says he would have closed the agency if they hadn't caught her)

In terms of intelligence I'd put her on the same level as Mori, just slightly below the super human genius characters i.e. Dazai, Fyodor and Ranpo

The Azure Apostle

For those who don't remember, Sasaki was the Azure Apostle, a mysterious figure who challenged the agency with several horrifying cases, which would all lead to mass casualties if the agency failed to stop them. These were; uncovering an underground organ smuggling operation (which the agency failed to stop and which massively hurt their reputation) stopping a bombing of Yokohama port which could have killed hundreds of people, and preventing a commercial aeroplane from crashing into the city (this was not included in the anime)

Each of the people, who committed these crimes, had no Idea they were being manipulated and thought it was their own idea the whole time. There was no evidence that anyone else had been involved at all, and the agency had no way to connect her to any of the crimes. And she even makes the genius move of framing Dazai, the mysterious new member with suspicious knowledge of the underworld and a hidden past, as the true culprit.

In fact, she only made one mistake, challenging Dazai. If Dazai had been basically anyone else, they would have been cornered and arrested, but since Dazai's mind works on a level even master strategists can't imagine, he was able to turn the tables on her.

But even after Dazai sees through her plans, the ADA still has to act exactly the way she wants them too and stop the plane crash. Even when they know they're being manipulated, they still have to do exactly what she wanted.

Finally, after Dazai and Kunikida confront her and get her to admit to being behind all those crimes, even then they are powerless to stop her.

Even after being involved with so many massive crimes, Sasaki herself hadn't done anything illegal, so within the law the ADA is completely powerless to stop her.

They can't arrest her, and if they try then the agency will be put in even more danger as will many innocent lives. She has completely trapped the ADA, and even Dazai in a choice to follow the law and let her go or take justice into their own hands and prove they will stoop as low as she did.

In the end, there she has them in a perfect deadlock, let her continue her mission, or kill her themselves. Both are bad outcomes for the ADA.

In the end, Dazai has her killed by using a third party (Rokuzo) to shoot her, so the agency can't be blamed for her murder, though this ends her plans it deeply scars Kunikida and shakes his resolve in his ideals.

The trauma from this event still haunts Kunikida to this day, we see that when he is affected by Q's curse, Sasaki is who he sees.

So thats the Azure Apostle, a terrifying master mind who nearly brought down the Armed Detective Agency, but now lets look at the other side of this character.

Nobuko Sasaki Herself

We know several things about Sasaki as a character and her history from the light novel. That she was a brilliant criminal psychologist and was internationally recognised despite being so young

,that she was the ex-lover of the Azure King and the real mastermind behind his plans, and that she had very little motivation of her own.

That's not meant to be an insult to the character, she says herself that she never really had much direction in life, even with her incredible intelligence she never really had anything she wanted to achieve.

But the Azure King was the opposite, he had powerful drive and strong ideals, he wanted to punish criminals who couldn't be touched by the law and when he failed to change the law as a bureaucrat, she offered him an alternative.

A very important thing here is that neither of them were manipulating or forcing the other into this path, as far as we see they genuinely loved each other, each providing something the other couldn't, Sasaki her mind and the Azure King his drive.

When the Azure king died, Sasaki had no path of her own to follow, so she simply kept following his, even though she doesn't seem to have really cared about his cause.

All of this creates a very unique character, you can't say she was driven by revenge, because she wasn't really driven at all. It's more like she was running on momentum, she had chosen a path to follow and could not stop even though there was nothing pushing her down it any more.

She's a perfect antithesis of Kunikida and was the best possible villain a light novel about him could have had.

A man who brings his ideals into reality with his own hands against a woman who uses others to enforce ideals that were never hers to begin with.

Anyway, I made this because Sasaki is criminally underrated in this fandom, If you haven't read "Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam" I highly recommend it, I've only put a tiny fraction of the amazing story here.

[team7-headquarter]

I genuinely think any ship within the og Team 7 students would make sense. There're 0 reasons to fight about it, they're all just as justified.

Naruto was obsessed for yeeeeeaaaars with his teammates. He looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky for him. Sasuke and Sakura were the only boy and girl on Earth, lol.

Sasuke and Sakura were used to being cruel to put some distance between them and the world. Defense mechanism or not, Naruto was maybe the only person in the entire world that would never eat that up. He knew feeling lonely, he knew being hurt, he knew to feel useless... Fuck that, for him, there would never be as someone as awesome as his teammates.

His most important promise in life was to save Sasuke, for both his, Sakura's and his own sake.

In return, Sasuke and Sakura would never shut up about him either. His their saviour, their hero, their sun and the boy fills their lives with joy.

That's why any ship with him works!

For Sakura, it's that there was textual romantic tension with both of them for the entire series. Their chemistry and backstory were intentionally written. That Kishimoto decided on the canon ships in the end, okay, but any of them could have worked. If you can't feel the love between them, blame the writing and not the characters, 'cause it was clear that Kishimoto wanted people to think of them as a love triangle for some time.

Since the genin days, she was their it girl. No one touches Sakura, no one hurts Sakura, blah blah blah. In exchange, even when she wasn't strong enough, she'd use herself as a shield for them. It makes no sense, but she'd jump between any attack and them at any moment. She would run to them when they have lost their mind, not even scared of them as much as she was scared for them.

She defended both of them when other people criticized them. She also lost faith and tried to manipulate them or kill them at some point out of pure desperation of keeping one of them alive. She was the one left behind time and time again, they are her whole reason to be who she is and to be a medic nin. All she ever wanted was to walk alongside them, not behind them.

Again, it works.

With Sasuke is so easy.

Naruto and Sakura were obsessed with him to the point of following him to the literal almost end of the world. The definition of hatred being actually love, because they'd be at each other's throats about it. Their goal in life? Sasuke. The person they cried about at night? Sasuke. What would they wish upon a star? For Sasuke to come back.

And Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about them. In his mind, they were always there. They'd follow him, almost haunt him. They were annoying and rude and ignorant, they were stupid, weak even, he loved them so much that he convinced himself he needed to kill them, cut their bonds.

They harbor endless love for him and with time, he came to understand that's just how they were and accept it.

The loyal 12 years old that would rather take the attacks himself than let his teammates be in any type of danger, did a full cycle and came to be the devoted man that vowed to atone for his mistakes and return to them one day.

If they gave themselves freely to him and almost without a reason, Sasuke gave himself back with all the reasons in the world.

Do I even have to explain why narusasusaku works too or—????

Anyway.

I could never fight over what's the better ship when I know they are all insane about each other.

[cinnamonroll-anon]

lmk request!

wukong and mac (separate) had a nightmare and s/o came to comfort?

a/n: thank you both for the request! Since you both had the same prompt i decided to just put the two together! Sorry for my long absence have some comfort for your heart!

Terrible Visions: Sun Wukong x Reader, Macaque x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: angst to fluff, comfort (giving), mentions of violence and mentions of death. SEASON 5 SPOILERS! (not much but will brush up on events that take place!)

Sun wukong:

Honestly, what hasn't come back to haunt the infamous monkey king? Behind his usual suave facade, he was constantly stuck in his own head, thinking about his past and what problems could await on the roads ahead. If we're being honest here, he's stressed of having to save the world or having to face his own mistakes and shortcomings. He can never live down his own choices, not entirely at least. There would always be a whisper of doubt breathing down his neck, it would never fail to make him feel ashamed of himself. Luckily for him, he can play things off perfectly and no one would know any better from his usual laid back attitude. He wouldn't allow anyone to see the burden on his shoulders, or see how weary he's grown over these recent months. Well, everyone else except you.

You have been with Wukong for a while, so you're no stranger to his attempts at keeping you at an arm's length. It was a prominent problem in your relationship. He simply wouldn't tell you what was bothering him, even if it was something so miniscule that you could stop doing. Nowadays, he tries to open up to you and to express himself to the best of his ability. It was a promise you both made to each other as your relationship continued to flourish. He'd communicate with you and you'd understand him and try to meet him in the middle. It was a fair compromise that has saved your relationship on multiple occasions.

It took a great level of trust for him to feel like he could share his worries with you, he didn't want to trouble you... At least it was partially true, especially with all the guilt that's been dying to swallow him whole. He felt as though he had dragged you down into a mess like he did with MK, and that he was the one to blame for all of his suffering, as well as yours. Another part of him wouldn't allow him to love or care as deeply as he used to. Not again because, he knows what love really leads to... To pain. He had promised himself once in the past to not let his heart suffer again, to never go through another heartbreak. It was that promise kept getting in the way with his new ambitions and his heart's desire. To be with you.

Unfortunately as all things do, these emotions build up, and when they resurface, they present themselves to the great sage as he finds enough tranquility to sleep at night. He could only keep his thoughts to himself until they started pouring into his subconscious. The nightmares weren't as frequent but they'd manifest horrors that would leave him restless and fearful. Even in his slumber, he couldn't find rest.

Maybe he would be trapped in the mountain with no one to talk to, feeling condemned, forgotten, unloved and lonely. He'd stay there, unmoving and vulnerable for eternity. Perhaps it would be all the splitting headaches with his circlet, punishing and agonizing. No matter how much he begged for it to simply disappear, the torment would only continue. He would dig his nails into the groud, clawing into his head in desperation, howling in pain and sobbing for anything to stop it. He'd never find that solace here.

Maybe it was the day he struck Macaque. It would always be the same outcome, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. To change it. His body would move without his permission, his mind torn in-between this urge to kill him and hopelessly trying to stop himself. He saw his old friend laying beaten down, he watched as Macaque tried to move to get away from him helplessly. Was that fear or hatred he saw in his eyes? He couldn't tell before he felt the way his staff punctured through his eye, cracking entirely past his skull. No matter how many times he'd watch the scene unfold, it never ceased to be any less gut wrenching when he drew the final blow. It was all worse when he could smell his blood, practically taste the hot irony liquid in his tongue.

Sometimes it was failing MK. Failing him as his mentor. He knew he wasn't the best at teaching, honestly it had stung him when MK searched for guidance in Macaque. It just didn't help ease his nerves or reassured him that he was doing the right thing. He's put the kid through so much, yet he always kept his distance from him. He couldn't afford for him to get close, not again, not after everything he's been through. MK sacrificing himself was painful to watch, and luckily for him, he'd get to relive that moment. One second he was contemplating losing his Immortality and his life, and the next that familiar excruciating pain would crush his head again. He couldn't't move to save him, to sacrifice himself instead. The worst part was seeing that look on MK's face through his tears and screams. He almost lost him, but in his dreams he wouldn't come back, and in his eyes his world would still remain shattered.

The lady bone demon's control was the worst dream he could ever be faced with, because instead of any other circumstances hurting his friends, he was killing them all... One by one. A ruthless frenzy and an unstoppable slaughter, all for her destiny. Her voice would pound against his head and her command over him was absolute. He couldn't even cry if he wanted to.

He'd wake up in cold sweat, lunging to sit up and gasp for air. He had startled you awake, promoting you to wearily sit up with him.

"Wukong? What's the matter?"

He gripped his heart feeling it's frantic palpitations as he took harsh breaths. Maybe, the worst nightmare of all... Was losing you. He condemned his head for getting so creative with ways he could lose you. Meanwhile, you observed him, trying to read his expression. You sat there for a minute before you gently placed your hand ontop of his own.

"Wukong-"

"P-peaches, hey y-yeah, sorry about that! Just ah, y'know ehe thought i lost my streak. And to Macaque no less!" He answered with a strained smile, you could see a him covered in sweat.

"Uh-huh, so you're expecting me to believe that you're this worked up... About your videogame?" You deadpanned as you were fighting to keep your eyes open. With or without them open you can hear how shaken up he was.

He stumbled over his words and another half assed excuse before taking a deep breath and looking down at his hands.

"You're right- It, It wasn't about videogames... I had another nightmare."

You noticed how fragile his voice sounded, that and how ashamed of himself he looked. Was it his pride or perhaps it was the horrible attempt to brush you off? It didn't matter to you in the moment as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey, that's awful. Do you want to talk about it? Or maybe cuddle-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. You gradually hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him, gently rubbing his back in a comforting manner. You could feel his racing heartbeat against you, how ragged his breathing was before they began to even out. Much of your relief, he was slowly calming down. His tail wrapped around your waist, giving it a tight squeeze, trying to ground himself in the present.

"It's okay Wukong, you're safe. I'm here for you, thank you for telling me. I want to help you with things like these, okay?"

"Even if i wake you up in the dead of night?" He spoke through a chocked sob, he was trying really hard not to cry, but it was so hard when you were so willing to sacrifice sleep and time just to help him. He tightened his hold on you, burying his face against your shoulder, either for comfort or to hide his face from your view, you didn't bring it up as you placed a kiss to his head.

"Yes Wukong, even if you woke me up at four in the morning," You replied with a chuckle. "I'd rather have missed a little time asleep than having you dealing with a nightmare all alone. Especially if I'm already here for you."

He shook his head as he let out a heavy sigh, you could feel your shoulder getting wet by his tears. After his initial fear had finally passed, he began to move again. He first placed his hand behind your head before he hesitantly pushed you away, only enough to look into your eyes. He mused to himself how sleepy you looked, before remembering he was the reason you were so worried about him now and awake.

"I'm sorry... you shouldn't be up at this hour Peach, i didn't mean to-"

"It was a nightmare Wukong, you didn't exactly plan it." You interrupted him as you delicately held his face in your hands, "Besides I already told you I'm not going anywhere. Im sticking with you no matter what, be it sickness, a nightmare or the world ending, again... I'm with you Wukong."

He swore he could barely blink back the tears in his eyes threatening to pour again. Despite it all you, were still here. You stayed by his side. You were still kind and loving to him, even if he wasn't always as vulnerable or open with you. You were more than willing to help him through it, to save your relationship... to save him. That was so brave of you, he hoped you knew that. He wished he could tell you, but he wouldn't say it... not today at least or now. He smiled warmly before laying back down, pulling you into his arms as you laid your head on his chest. He held you close as he felt himself become more tired, but before he could close his eyes again you pressed a lazy kiss against his lips.

"I love you Wukong, goodnight my love." What wonderful words to hear, he thought to himself, before finally letting his muscles relax and his jaw unclench. He finally felt safe and loved... all in his beloveds arms. He truly felt like everything would be okay. He looked down at your already sleeping form, god, you must've been truly exhausted he thought to himself. He waited a bit until he knew you were sound asleep, not taking any chances to wake you again, before he placed a loving kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too Peaches, if you only knew how much you mean to me... Goodnight love, see you in the morning."

Macaque:

He's more open to you about his nightmares. You've been with him for this long, so he trusts you're not going to hurt him when he lets down his guard. You've proven yourself to him time and time again that you won't take advantage of him or harm him. On the contrary, you treat him with compassion and respect, even when he has felt undeserving of your grace and patience. Youve always so considerate and understanding to him. He swears he doesn't deserve you, he knows he's definitely not the best guy around, but if you stayed this long and showed him you're not going anywhere, then he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest to appreciate you and show you how much he cares about you too.

But his nightmares are a sore spot for him, especially telling you what happens in them. He'd rather forget they happened at all, but those images in his mind refuse to leave him. Why must he be reminded of how much he suffered now that he's living a better life? He's gotten close to wukong again, albeit the two still bicker, but he knows now that wukong trusts him. It's a work in progress, but their relationship was mending slowly, it all starts with a little bit of trust. And then there's you.

He'll admit that he wasn't planning on ever having a partner, with all his issues, he considered himself the least qualified in the romance department. And yet there he was, spending his days with you happily. You had even stayed with him while he was on flower fruit mountain, you would enjoy the cuddle sessions the little monkeys had with Macaque. Even if he wasn't all too thrilled with the arrangement but, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked with the little ones clinging to you.

It's been a little over a day or two since the pillar of heaven was restored, you and Macaque having been enjoying some down time from the world's end. It was such a shame that in these peaceful moments his mind would still be plagued with these horrible nightmares. Even before he met you they were quite common, it made his lifestyle change as he avoided sleep, staying up throughout the night until eventual exhaustion would overtake him. If he pushed his body to the limit the chances of having a nightmare would decrease. Not the healthiest choice on his part, but the one that has worked for him over time.

But that all changed with you. You have given him a safe space, a home he could call his own. He trusted you and he let himself relax around you, and this would cause him to fall asleep at a more reasonable hour. He was still a night owl but it was harder for him to stay awake when you were so close to him, so warm and peacefully asleep. He couldn't overcome the temptation of resting alongside you. Although that peace would be short-lived.

Every bad experience he's had gets relived and reimagined in each nightmare. The most common type is getting betrayed. It ranges from getting abandoned and feeling worthless to being used for someone else's benefit. If he's had a nightmare of you betraying him, he would be a bit distant. Luckily he was willing to talk with you about it, in which you reassured him that you just wanted to be with him because you loved him. You weren't going to leave him or cheat on him.

Another common nightmare he's had was recollecting the day Sun Wukong not only turned on him, but killed him. It was always a brutal but hopeless cause. His heart was heavy with how wukong so easily sidelined him, how everything they had been through meant nothing. That he no longer meant anything to his friend. This dream was too realistic, he could feel every strike and how tired he was becoming. Nothing he could do was enough. Not against a force like wukong. The most horrid part was when he finally looked up at wukong in defeat only to be met with an agonizing pain to his eye. This nightmare would cause him to wake up yelling and holding his eye, feeling the phantom pain the dream left behind.

The least common dreams he had that would leave him mortified were the ones of the Lady Bone Demon. Being forced to do her will or have his life taken away from him again. He thought he was clever losing the key, but somehow she always escaped. Having the slow threat of her crystals on his body being a horrifying experience, especially the days in which he would become paralyzed in fear, going stiff in his sleep. Sometimes she would make him kill Sun Wukong and MK and there wasn't any fire of Samadhi to save him from being entirely consumed by her will. The worst one of all was when she found out about you, sending macaque to kill you, her champion didn't need any distractions after all. No insignificant mortal will stand in the way of his destiny.

Macaque would jolt awake, taking in gasping breaths before looking around the room. Hed sigh in relief, he was home, he was safe, just another stupid dream. He'd stay awake in bed, looking up at the ceiling in hope's of falling asleep. He couldn't shake the vivid images from his mind and he felt agitated and restless, he couldn't sleep again. He then looked over at you and the sight warmed his heart a little. You were peacefully asleep, it was a miracle his sudden movement didn't wake you, but he was silently grateful. Hed hate to wake you up since you looked oh so blissfully asleep. He couldn't do that, not to you. So he decided to discreetly get out of bed before using a shadow portal to drop himself into the couch. It was a better option than having to maneuver himself quietly through the room with you soundly asleep. Waking you up was simply a chance he didn't want to take.

He would sit in silence on the couch simply trying not to think about whatever dream plagued his mind. At first the silence was normal but he quickly found out how not wanting to think of something made you think of it more. The silence would become unbearable so he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He opted to mindlessly watch tv, turning the volume down to the lowest possible. It was the perks of having six ears.

You woke up, having stirred from your rest at the lack of his presence. You drowsily felt his side of the bed. It was empty, so you sluggishly got out of bed to look for him. He could hear you coming towards hims, yet his entire focus was on the nonsensical noises of the TV, he couldn't bother to pay attention to what was happening. You eventually made your way over to him and plopped yourself down on the couch next to him. You leaned against him, laying your head on his shoulder. He went tense at the sudden contact, not like he wasn't already stiff as a board as he tried to force his attention away from his own thoughts.

"Hey Honey, what's got you up so early?" He asked casually as if he also wasn't up at four in the morning.

"I didn't feel you in bed with me anymore... Are you okay Macaque?" You fought off the drowsiness in your eyes, but leaning against him and feeling his warmth was lulling you back to sleep. No, you had to make sure he was alright, sleep can wait. You slowly were able to get your hazy mind working before you felt how stiff he was against you. He usually eased up to your touch by now, even when he was caught by surprise.

He notices your discomfort before he wraps an arm around you, slowly relaxing against you. He gave you a soft smile as he took in your sleep ridden state. It was heartening to him that you missed his presence, even when you were asleep. But he wasn't exactly thrilled that he still somehow woke you up, but having you with him did relieve him of his worries.

"Sweetheart, listen... I'm sorry for leaving you alone but i just... Had a nightmare and i didn't want to wake you up about it. But i still did." His answer was honest but filled with disappointment in himself. He really wanted to handle it by himself, but a part of him knew he could never ease his mind the way you could. Having heard his explanation you leaned into him, giving him a tender hug. He's still for a moment before he finally wraps his arms around you tightly, allowing himself to be comforted by you. You gently ran your finger through his fur, it was like your every caress alleviated his aching heart and it wasn't long enough until he began to quietly cry against your chest.

"I-I didn't want any of this to happen... I didn't want to go through with it, I had to-" He murmured against you. You could tell it had been a horrible nightmare, especially if it broke him down like this

"I know baby, but you're not there anymore. You haven't done anything, you're at home... It was only a dream, you're safe... I'll keep you safe." You quietly reassured him, calming his anguish and placing kisses where his tears ran, gently wiping them away with your thumbs as you held his face. It was when you held him so close that you noticed it. His glamour was off. You could see his six ears, all the scars on his face and his eye, you wondered how you didn't notice it before. Then again being awake at four wasn't exactly peak conscious behavior and it was still dark, the only light being the dim glow of the TV.

Macaque felt safe in your embrace, enjoying the sound of your voice. He would normally be uneasy listening with all of his ears, but your voice was like a serene river to him, calming and comforting. He would gladly listen to you talk for hours about anything, but when you directed it at him and used it to ease his pains, it was simply heavenly.

After a while of hugging he thinks you might've dosed off then and there.

"Hey darling, are you still with me?" He asked quietly as he gave you a soft shake. The only response you gave him was a low, albeit late, hum of acknowledgment.

"Yeah, yeah, wide awake." Which ears a soft chuckle out of him before makes sure you're secure in his hold. Before you can ask if he wanted to head back to bed, you feel a swoosh before having landed on the soft and familiar mattress. You weren't even going to lie, his shadow portals were convenient. You probably wouldn't have made it back to the room with how tired you felt.

"A heads up would've been nice." You mumbled against him.

"Nah, I'm sure you could've handed it." You could practically hear his signature smirk in his tone.

"What if i couldn't and it scared me?" You joked as you pushed yourself away from him, earning you the sight of his handsome grin and un-glamored glory.

"Come on sugar, you're telling me you're scared of a little gravity. You'd think you'd be used to it by now." He chuckled as he patted your head before ruffling your hair.

"Hey! My hair, you're messing it up!"

"You have the wildest bed-head baby, you should be thanking me."

"Oh, I'll give you a thank you, alright. Keep this up and I'll smother you entirely." You challenged him with your own mischievous grin. He didn't believe your little threat for one second.

"Oh really? I'd like to see you try~" You then held the sides of his face before pulling him into a barrage of kisses. He's caught by surprise, unable to get away from your devoted kisses. He nuzzles against you trying to fight off his embarrassment, but you're so cute and oh lord, he feels like he's malfunctioning. Even after all this time he wasn't immune to being overwhelmed by your affections, having gone most of his life without them. Eventually you slow down your kisses, instead you poured out adoring words about every feature you love about him before giving it a kiss. You took your time, letting him know how much you loved him with each soft murmur and soft peck. That you loved him dearly and found him captivating, even with his glamor off.

"I think the scar makes you look hot" you ended off on, trying to brighten up how he might've felt about his appearance.

"Oh really? Is that so?" He smirked before finally wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him to cuddle. You soon felt the familiar sensation of his tail curling around you protectively. You both held each other tenderly and you leaned closer to leading him into a slow kiss. Your lips molded into each other lovingly, parting to look into each other's eyes with nothing but adoration. You trailed your hands through his hair until you reached his ears, gently scratching the back of them and caressing them. He let out a content huff before resting his head against your chest, closing his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep by your warmth and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. You place a final kiss against his forehead.

"I love you Macaque, I hope you only have sweet dreams tonight." He didn't need to when his time awake with you was his greatest dream come true.

"I'll always love you, thank you my love." That was all he said before pleasantly falling asleep, safe and loved in your embrace.

back

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

My thoughts on Influencer Arc Ep.1

Major spoilers for Influencer Arc Ep.1. "Green's channel"!

Alright, we've all watched the newest episode, and I have to say, the plot is nothing new. The kids exploring something they've never seen/done before, accidentally going too far/making a few mistakes, and now there's this eldritch being with cool powers trying to kill them. We've seen it before,

again,

and again,

and again.

Ok, I get it, what is a stick animation without epic fighting scenes? And the fighting scenes in the new episode are so creative and well crafted. The gang utilized Adobe Premiere's features to battle the glitching video Green, showcasing seamless teamwork and impressive adaptability, and ultimately dunking it into the recycling bin with a final breathtaking move. Not gonna lie, I was grinning like an idiot the whole episode.

What makes the glitching video green(I'm just going to refer to them as glitch from now on) unique is that they weren't an established entity like Herobrine, Youtube and Lucky Block. For the first time, the color gang were fighting someone, or something, that was entirely their own creation, hostile because they were created as a mistake.

Does that ring a bell? Yes, I'm talking about how similar the glitch was to Victim. Both were created unloved, both rebelled against their creator(s), and both met a swift end at the very hands that brought them to their existence.

So how was the glitch different? Why should Alan be blamed for abusing and murdering his creation but not the Color Gang? Is it because we're emotionally attached to the gang so we can turn a blind eye and convince ourselves it's not a big deal?

Well, not really. Unlike Alan, the color gang is totally justified in this.

Firstly, Alan created Victim out of malice (hence the name), Victim was meant to suffer, to be humiliated and toyed with, all for his creator's entertainment. But the color gang didn't hold such malice. Yes, the glitch was a result of their failed editing, but who would have thought they would suddenly gain sentience and came to life? (If all the failed editing projects I discarded in the past came back to haunt me I'd be buried three feet beneath the gound by now).

(And really, how does creation of digital life even work in the AVA universe? Why did this particular video come to life but not others? Is it just spontaneous and random? I guess this would remain a mystery like Second's creation unless Alan decides to explain it in future AVA episodes:/)

Secondly, the colour gang, although wary of the glitch, shown kindness upon the initial encounter.

Even after the glitch attacked Green first, Second still intervened to stop Red's aggression, instead grabbing the glitch in a questioning manner:" Why did you punch our friend when he was trying to be nice?"

It was only after Second too was struck to the ground did the gang start to treat the glitch as an enemy.

On the contrary, Alan started the assault, forced Victim to act in self defence, eventually deleting him.

Still, an overly sentimental part of me still felt bad for the glitch. Being created as a distortion, a mistake, unwanted and unloved, they had a reason to be mad at their creators. If only there was a way to get rid of those excessive effects and turn the glitch back to a normal video, then maybe the gang could earn themselves another cool friend.

Or maybe not. If the glitch's existence was born from their identity as a "mistake", would they still exist once that very "mistake" was rectified?

[lovelytayforce]

@playful-level4366 Hey sorry I didn't reply like normal but I knew this wouldn't fit down there, considering how long I thought about this question and how to word it. It's kind of a weird dynamic to explain because it's not just about Tai Lung because he's intrically linked to Shifu and Tigress as an abuser, and in a sense I don't think the fandom wants to go over that with him at all. They believe him to be a victim and nothing else. It's true he's a victim, trust me I agree with a lot of Tai fans on that aspect (Hell, I relate to his need to prove himself and also hating who he is, hoping some magical spell will change all our imperfections but I know it won't...) but also he's a terrible abuser to his own Father and Tigress. And that ruins a lot of their fluffy hcs of a soft family learning to come together because that's too realistic for the fandom perspective and view on him. God, I don't wanna be mean but it always seems like when I see discussions on the character its as if we see two very different sides of a burnt piece of toast and see two different types of images, one skewed more by the lighting than anything. Listen, this isn't me telling other Tai fans they can't have their soft hcs for him go ahead but remember you need to stop blaming other characters for who he is, he choose his path. A person even said I was "too harsh" on Tai Lung after explaining all the horrible things HE DECIDED TO DO, that's not harsh. That's the truth and no one wants to go over it because its uncomfortable and I get it to a point but you all also picked the most uncomfortable characters who mirror our very dreary reality when we close our laptops and see the imperfections of our loved ones and ourselves. Tai Lung is a personification of the favored son in many Kung Fu flicks of the past and even the present, how the Father uplifts them to the light of heaven themselves before they ultimately go too far and let them down whilst ignoring the daughter. aka Sexism in the fam. Neat. You latched onto the man that was not only neglected by his own father but the man who abused his father back, both physically and emotionally TWICE to gain what he wanted because he knew Shifu would never hurt him.

Like I had a whole Tai stan block me for daring to remember this scene of a father with a broken hip crawling to his son and mourning what he allowed him to become. Shifu could have died but he still loved that boy despite everything he did to him and what he would continue to do to him. Like if we wanted real redemption arcs of Tai Lung we would go over how he haunted Shifu's consciousness and led him to close himself off to his next child, Tigress, whom is always left out of the conversation cause no one wants to talk about the woman neglected and abused by her father and older brother. A popular fic even admitted to not even wanting to touch Shifu and Tigress' dynamic, do you see the problem here???? I know many of you may not know or even care but I write fanfic for this fandom focusing on that aspect of Tigress' character along with Shifu, its not always fun and I've probably stumbled and made mistakes but its a story worth telling. Because in the end, Tigress is still alive and so is Shifu! Tai Lung isn't he had his chance and ruined it. Most Tai redemption fics are easily consumable because they don't want to go over the unsavory aspects of Tai Lung's character; The fraud, the continued abuse of his own father because everything he does is to hurt Shifu personally so he can get what he wanted in the end. Po was just another piece to hurt him (Shifu) as stated on the bridge. No, in the end, they want to go over how Shifu hurt him as a child and try to lure Tigress to his side, despite the fact he belittled her when they first met. But you know, how else are we supposed to get hehe bickering siblings. Cause that's easier to consume than realizing she'd want nothing to do with him after hurting her friends and her father. There's just an overall lack of autonomy given to the characters that the movies relish in. The fandom is too scared to allow them to be themselves because pointing the finger at Oogway who allows people to grow at their own pace is easier than realizing; Tai lung and Shifu never listened to him. Like think of a person this week who did exactly what you told em to do? and did they do it? Probably not, people are fucking stubborn. Me, included. People love learning the hard way, that's just the truth! Even toddlers take a min to listen to one task! So, I wouldn't even call it whitewashing, it's this desire to ignore canon to support their own hcs because if they told his actual story all of their concepts would fall apart to the wayside to see, the only true victim in the end, was a woman. Tigress. No one wants to go over that, that's a lot of work, that's a touchy subject but it's why I love these characters, there so raw and horrible which makes their stories compelling enough to stand beside the likes of Seven Samurai. It's that good!! So, to end this all, no they don't. Even Traces of Spring which I still follow because I love the art falls into this safe way of going about telling his story and sidelining the character who mirrors who he could have been, Tigress. Because she's not that cool to them despite the fact she controls herself better than he does. And had the opportunity to be a hero as great as she was if he set aside his selfish, obsession, and toxic views. But you know he's hot to some people, so he's a good boy deep down.

Yup. Uh huh.

[dotthings]

Wow, yeah, that’s a lot to process.

One thing is how the Jedi here get to be so messy, and flawed, and vulnerable. They messed up. Without it being going to the dark side or ill-intent.

Nothing about Star Wars has ever intended to say the Jedi order was perfect, or Jedi are perfect, unfeeling, always serene who can do no wrong and don’t ever battle with their emotions. It can be messy and they can screw up without it being an epic downspiral into the dark side.

Torbin’s a restless kid who hasn’t yet learned the patience he needs to be a fully effective Jedi. Master Indara tries to guide him and keep everyone on her team from going off the rails and she does her best but she can’t keep things from falling apart.

Indara’s wise, calm, strategic, diplomatic, and her team should have listened to her or this maybe could have been avoided.

Poor Kelnacca, like Torbin, gets mind-controlled by the witches, and a mind-controlled Jedi wookie, that’s just adding to the chaos.

Sol acted entirely on emotion in ways that are exactly what the Jedi warn against, but the problem isn’t inherently that he led with his heart and his feelings, it’s that he allowed that to cloud his judgment so badly. Even if Torbin is actually the one who pulls them all back into the fortress and it sort of spirals from there, it’s not Torbin’s fault, per se. It’s Sol’s attachment to Osha that’s the main driver and how that governed his actions.

It’s also not simple where it’s Jedi bad. They thought they were doing the right thing, but lack of ill-intentions doesn’t mean they were in the right to intrude the way they did. This is also a situation with multiple pov and misunderstandings from both sides. It also shows how conflict can explode even in a situation where most of the players go into it wanting to avoid violence.

There were wild cards on both sides. The Jedi themselves, Mae’s fire (not blaming Mae, she immediately was terrified and regretful and didn’t realize how it would spread, but hey, making things even spicier and more chaotic, throw some fire into the mix). Mother Koril leads with aggression, which was a contributing factor.

Mother Aniseya is a mirror for Indara—both of them are calm, measured, and conduct themselves in ways designed to de-escalate and avoid violence. But they weren’t enough to keep it from spiraling.

Everything that could have gone wrong, did.

Then Sol makes a terrible choice where if he’d tried to hold both twins with the force as the bridge collapsed, he’d lose them both. He’s not strong enough to hold both sides of the broken bridge. So he makes a choice.

And after all that, the part that actually hurts the most, is Indara and Sol’s decision to lie. I appreciate that Sol wanted to tell the truth, and face up to his mistakes, and Indara—so calm, so wise, so competent—is the one who pressures him to lie. And again, with good intentions—because she wants to spare Osha the pain of learning the truth.

It’s heartbreaking. The fact that Master Sol lied is what I think Osha’s bond with him won’t be able to recover from the most when she finds out the truth.

I wonder how much these events haunted the Jedi order. If the story gets told and used as a cautionary tale.

There’s also a cohesion thematically between these events to the prequel trilogy, and The Clone Wars. The flaws and weaknesses of the Jedi order. Which, in their attempt to course correct, might have actually compounded the issues.

[rxxshintaro]

kanoshin is great for so many reasons, even moving past their very very basic, broken down parts. it’s essentially a pairing of two sarcastic people to varying degrees that can pick on each other for fun, but they both care deeply about the people they love. even though they have issues with their self image, they could, in theory, boost each other up. okay. cool. yeah. that’s something that’s relatively standard i think in a lot of fictional pairings.

what i think is the key to their relationship is the fact that kanoshin just does not and will not work until shintaro and kano can face themselves head on.

for shintaro, who sees kano to a degree as judge, jury, and executioner, he knows that kano watched the way he treated ayano. experienced it first hand, even. it’s something that haunted him ever since the day she left the earth, and while kano lashed out horribly right after her death, would shintaro not have came to the same conclusion himself? does ayano’s form not haunt him every night?

he knows that he should have done better. that he should have noticed. all of the things he didn’t say to her. the regrets ate him up for years. and when he sees how involved kano was with ayano before her death, he sees what he should have done. back then, he should have supported her. he should have noticed. he should have been like kano. kano stayed in the world and dealt with her death. shintaro didn’t.

for kano, who sees shintaro as a complacent, ignorant bystander, he can’t let go of the hate towards him that he held from the trauma of ayano’s death. the despair and horror and overwhelming psychological stress was too big to place on one specific source. it was the snake’s fault. it was his fault. and when he sees shintaro, he pushes the burden on him to carry unknowingly. it was shintaro’s fault. shintaro should have done more. just like he should have. and when shintaro had the “luxury” of closing himself up for two years, kano didn’t. he had to go back to his family. he had to keep everything together. the bubbling resentment of carrying everything on his shoulders, which was far too much for anyone to carry, again shifted to shintaro. who only had to care for himself.

and when shintaro returns from his isolation, he’s trying to change, trying to push down his guilt, and to kano- that’s not fair. kano has been holding his family together for years now, keeping the weight of everything on his shoulders, and shintaro seemingly gets a free pass to move on? how could he? how dare he try to move forward and change?

how can you look at someone who reminds you so much of your own mistakes and your regret and your guilt?

how can you stand to see someone everyday who could have just as easily been you if you had done things differently?

the answer is, you can’t. because deciding to move on and forgive means that you would have to forgive yourself.

if kano wants to live a normal life, he has to let go of his own guilt and blame for ayano’s death and for all of the suffering he endured. he was a kid. he did as much as he could, more than he should have, and he suffered just as she did. and that matters, too. he was also a victim.

if shintaro wants to live a normal life, he has to open himself to recognizing that he couldn’t have known. mistakes shouldn’t haunt you forever, and loving and remembering someone doesn’t have to be a life sentence of constant repenting and hating yourself. he suffered just as she did. and that matters, too. he was also a victim.

to choose to love someone, or to even get close to them, when looking at their sins feels like staring into a mirror of your own, it’s not a question of if you can forgive them.

can you forgive yourself?

can you face everything you’ve been through and still decide that you deserve love?

[capesandshapes]

Fallen Trees - Chapter One

Ao3

Summary: To fall in love during the games was a mistake, and Treech will never forgive himself for that.

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

His mother did not cry.

Treech supposed that that was the least surprising part of it all, the fact that even though she held his face in her hands and levelled her eyes upon his as the two sat alone in a small cement room—a precaution put in place by the peacekeepers to keep the smart ones from running away—Treech’s mother could not so much as muster a single tear for him.

Probably because to her, when it came to him most of all, her children were just a means to an end.

“You have to come back to me, Treech,” his mother begged, having gone with only his father to meet him, and left his multitude of sisters behind. “Your father is getting old, you have six sisters—no matter how you do it, no matter what you have to do; you have to come back to me,” his mother said with fear in her eyes before she dealt the final blow, “we won’t last very long without you,” she said, and he knew what that we entailed, and what was really on the line in these games—not his life, but his sisters’.

Treech was the eldest amongst seven, and the sole boy. When he had been born, his mother had been excited, pleased about the fact that he was both healthy and sturdy, and determined to have more just like Treech—because in District Seven, to have a son mean to have a lumberjack, and to have a lumberjack meant money, and to have many sons meant to not have to scrimp and save the way that his parents did, and to not have to worry about where your next meal was coming from. After all, the lumber industry preferred boys, if only because they had it in their heads that women shouldn’t scale a tree.

Not that that stopped Lamina.

It was in a cement room alone that Treech finally realized where he had seen her before, at the top of the trees in the forests, amongst the branches where one could hardly hope to catch more than a glimpse of her. In the corner of his classes, at the small grocers owned by the O’Donnell’s—Lamina had existed in the background of his life up until the moment when her name was called, after which she became all that he could think about from the moment that he left the stage onwards, even haunting him as Treech looked in his mother’s eyes and hesitantly nodded, knowing that she would hardly listen if he told her otherwise.

Treech didn’t control the games. He knew that he would die. He knew that his sisters would mourn him, that his father would silently stare up at the sky, and that his mother would curse his name until her final moment, forever blaming him for the burden of six unexpected little girls, and the duty of care and keeping them.

“I’ll forgive you,” his mother said again, not the first time, nor likely the last time she would say it to Treech in the short hour that they were allotted. “For whatever you do, for however you do it—I will forgive you. I won’t let them call you a murderer,” his mother said, for she knew what was whispered in the darkest corners of the marketplace and briefly spoken amongst the trees, hidden in the areas where the peacekeepers would not dare to listen, and yet so close that Treech himself knew what they said of the victors, how some of the rebellious few still looked at them.

He wasn’t even certain if he would want to survive if given the chance.

Treech’s mother’s lips pressed to his forehead and immediately, Treech found himself thinking of Lamina and what her family’s last hours might look like, if her parents cried unlike his did, if she had any siblings that would miss her, or friends that were besides themselves.

Surely there had to be someone in the world for her, for the girl with tears in her eyes as she walked up to the District Seven stage, likely knowing just as Treech did that this would be one of her final memories.

But whether that mattered, Treech didn’t know.

Just as Treech didn’t know what to say to his mother, or to the father who raised him.

Nothing was going to change what had already happened. Not when the Peacekeepers, as unempathetic and cold as ever, turned to Treech and said, “your time is nearly up, start saying your goodbyes.”

Treech’s mother made what sounded like a choking noise and his father pushed back away from the wall, not a word escaping his lips just as always as he approached the pair of them, resting a hand on Treech’s mother’s shoulder, and looking over her with softened features.

Treech often felt that his father felt sorry for having damned his mother to a life of poverty, what with being as old as he was, and an unfortunate incident befalling him not long after Treech’s second sister was born, giving him a limp-- though, that wasn't uncommon in district seven. He had often heard his mother complain about the state of his father, and yet for all that she had said about him, his father seemed to still love her.

“A minute,” the peacekeeper behind Treech counted down, signaling to the family that their time was nearly up, and this was it.

Treech rose from the table, knowing that there was no victory to be had in trying to stay longer than he was allowed. A tribute from the year before had been stupid enough to try, begging to have a moment longer with her brother. She had come out bloodied and bruised, hardly able to make the crowd’s gaze as the peacekeepers all but threw her in the back of the cargo van they used to transport tributes to the station.

Still, he could feel his father’s eyes follow him as he approached the door to the room, the man’s hand resting on the brim of his hat for a moment, just one as Treech hung his head and tried to catch a breath, reminding himself that soon enough, it would all be done.

“Son.” Treech’s father’s voice stopped him in his tracks before the peacekeeper could open the door for him.

Two broad strokes and he was there. Two broad strokes and his father was in front of him, the straw hat on his hand leaving his hand to sit on Treech’s, the closest he would ever get to an I love you. The closest he would ever get to getting home.

Treech raised his head, his eyes meeting his father’s, the hat that his six-year-old sister had made sitting low on Treech’s brow.

But nothing ever came for free.

“Come back,” his father said, and it was at that moment that Treech knew he had to promise, that he had to at least try, that he couldn’t just lay down and die.

He walked into the hallway in a haze, barely hearing the screams that echoed down the cement structure from just a door downwards, the ones that seemed to follow her as Lamina stiffly walked towards him in a daze, her hand clenched near her face almost as if she was in a trance.

“Lamina, Lamina!” The calls of an older woman echoed through the hallway as Lamina moved to Treech’s side, her peacekeeper’s jaw locked with tension.

It was then that Lamina said her first words to Treech, her voice quiet and reserved as she mumbled the question, “do you believe in heaven?”

Her eyes lingered on whatever it was that remained locked within her grasp.

“I don’t know,” was all Treech said.

“Neither do I,” Lamina proclaimed, releasing the small, star shaped pendant that sat within her hand.

She did not turn as the two made their descent out the Justice building and down the stairs, towards the small, tarp covered van that awaited them, leaving the small, glittering necklace on the ground.

Whether there were a heaven, hell, or something in-between; they would likely find out soon enough.

[weaselle]

“i wish i got abused by my parents instead of them wanting the best for me. then i could blame THEM for all my issues TO THEIR FACES MWAHAHAHA instead of just behind their backs on tumblr :( sighh i wish i could say I HATE U GRRRR outloud instead of in my heart :( nooo i wish i had endured violence instead ahrrrgg“

this is a great time to talk about how i handle hate messages

the first thing i want to do here, is i want to extend some sympathy and understanding, and really assume the best about this person, after all, who among us hasn't needed that

so maybe this person was actually physically abused by their parents, and that would be a reason to have a strong reaction to my post, strong enough to make it hard to see what i was trying to communicate, strong enough to be mad at me. And maybe this person is young or has their own mental health issues, which could be a reason they would attack a stranger on the internet like this. Maybe they are simply having the worst day, and this is not an example of their best selves.

So let us assume this human being is lashing out for easy to understand reasons, like from their own pain. An abused person skimming through my post might understandably write this message in response. A young, or incredibly angry, or socially impaired person might hit send on it.

Maybe they were orphaned also, and think i should feel lucky i had real family to adopt me -- they would be right. And i do feel lucky. I have been extraordinarily lucky in that regard.

perhaps they feel wishing that i had been physically abused is an incredibly bad take -- which is very understandable! i would generally agree that as a hot take, that's not great, though wishing emotional damage was physical damage is a fairly normal response to a lot of kinds of emotional trauma actually. Sometimes people even get a disorder that makes them try to transmute their emotional pain to physical pain by hurting themselves. But, yes, saying "i wish i was physically abused by my parents" is insensitive and maybe even antagonistic to say, when one by no means wishes to trivialize the very serious damage physical abuse incurs, both to a person's body and their inner personhood.

Which is why wishing i was physically abused is something i absolutely did not say, because i do not wish that.

What i said was, my adoptive parents messed me up despite being good people who were trying their best, and i sometimes wish my parents' mistreatment of me was purposeful and over-the-top like a fairy-tale, so that i might feel clear anger instead of confused pain. I cited two examples, Matilda and Cinderella, neither of which feature physical abuse.

See, every time i try to undo the knots they tied me up with inside, i can't get around feeling a huge amount of guilt about admitting they damaged me when i know they never meant to and i know how lucky i am, and facing how fucked i am from my childhood feels like being a horrible ungrateful person, but the fact remains that my childhood did fuck me up, and it's confusing and difficult to process.

but there is no point discussing these things with the person who sent this message, because there is no possible purpose in this message beyond causing me pain for their own catharsis. See? There is no call to action, no hanging question, no attempt to recognize the depth of another person's experience, no good faith interaction. It is exactly the same as if they yelled "fuck you!" and left. There is no engagement, this is entirely about them and not me.

Therefore i am not responding to it directly in any particular fashion, merely using it to demonstrate one way to mentally handle receiving this kind of hateful, hurtful message.

I hope this person is well. I hope this person is not deeply haunted by sending this message the way i get when i grow enough as a person to realize my mistakes

i note that they say "TO THEIR FACES MWAHAHAHA instead of just behind their backs on tumblr" while on tumblr using the anon feature, and that strikes me as ironic and humorous.

Humor is a great way to distance yourself from painful emotional reactions to mean messages.

i resist the urge to yell in detail about the real trauma i've suffered in my life, because, again, they don't care about my experiences, they aren't trying to open any kind of dialogue. And i already over-share on here, i don't need to do it angrily!

They are simply lashing out, probably because they are in some kind of pain, past or present. And in many many ways i have, in fact, been very fortunate, and perhaps they have been much less so.

i wish them a better future, full of growth and healing.

because I am also trying to grow and heal. And even if you feel things you are not proud of, it is important to admit to feeling them, and to work on that.

For example, when my mother sent me away to live with her sister, and then was killed a couple years later, I resolved that i would "never let her death be an excuse or a reason for anything negative in my life" because i felt it would make me a worse person to do that, and it would tarnish my love for her.

But the fact is, things like abandonment, and resentment, and anger, and a struggle to see any selfworth... these things do not stop existing just because you refuse to acknowledge them. Actually, refusing to acknowledge them can make them much worse.

So if this was sent by a person who was physically abused but has a similar notion of not letting it be an excuse for anything, i hope they are able to find a more nuanced approach that allows more complete healing, because they are a human being, and deserve peace and wellness.

[bmodiwrites]

The Stereo's On

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is just a random little idea that turned into 6k words of schmoopy loving - hope you guys don't mind! Word Count: ~6k Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Other than that, it’s pretty tame! Summary:

Despite trying to keep his feelings on the matter a secret, Steve knows that Eddie is bummed about not going to prom. As the best boyfriend there is, he's determined to remedy the situation. Between a couple strings of fairy lights and a mixtape made especially for Eddie, Steve puts together a night to remember.

Or - a sorry excuse for a feeling filled PWP!

Find it on AO3 here.

Staring down at the expansive mess of car parts before him, Eddie tries to focus on his job, but his mind is buzzing loudly, making it hard to do anything other than listen to the loud static building up in his ears. He took the shift that Sal offered him today in hopes of distracting himself. It’s funny that the exact opposite thing is happening. Eddie somehow forgot that the mouth of the garage opens up into Hawkins’ main street. Every person making their way into town passes right by the bay the current car he’s been working on is parked. It’s impossible not to see all of the couples in fancy garb flocking to the handful of nicer restaurants that exist in such a small town. His heart pangs with a feeling he refuses to name, knowing that labeling the emotion gives it more power than it’s already exuding on Eddie’s fickle heart. It’s embarrassing to think that prom night is eliciting such a reaction – never before has Eddie ever cared about cliché school shit. Too bad the ice around his heart is slowly melting, making him the sort of guy who’s upset about missing out.

Eddie tries in vain to shoulder the blame of his emotional meltdown on the person that’s been causing all the sentimental changes. Steve Harrington is the sort of boy that pushes Eddie to be the best version of himself – the sort of boy that makes Eddie genuinely proud of both himself and the one that’s chosen to stand by his side. Steve coming into his life is exactly what Eddie’s been waiting for – someone to kick start the engine and bring Eddie back to life. Though he’s never going to be excited about the way nearly dying brought them together, Eddie knows enough about second chances to be glad for the humble beginning of a relationship that’s quickly becoming all consuming.

Eddie spent a lot of life stuck in limbo and is forever grateful for the kick in the pants the encounter with the Upside Down ended up being. Without the widening of his vision, Eddie may never have seen the real person Steve is underneath his cool guy clothes and built up persona. He’s just a guy that feels and loves and fears and makes mistakes – just like the rest of the human race. Eddie’s glad for the chance to see Steve around the kids where he flourishes and behind the counter of Family Video next to Robin who makes him bigger and brighter than he already is. Steve the normal guy is someone that Eddie loves with all of his heart. So, he’s kind of sad that he can’t share this new and exciting addition to his life with the rest of the world.

He's been using the lameness of the dance to hide behind the hurt of the real reason he and Steve can’t attend tonight’s rite of passage. Being a wanted man is still something that haunts Eddie. To this day, people whisper about his devil worship and talk about the way he barely narrowly avoided being thrown in jail for crimes he didn’t commit. While he’s used to the status of outcast, being the town pariah is a lot harder than he ever imagined. Eddie’s sure they would’ve found a way to be at the dance together without putting themselves and their relationship in danger. While being gay is still something Eddie doesn’t openly share, a couple of guys going stag to a dance isn’t unheard of. No one questions that sort of thing – especially when they don’t really want to know the answer. It’s the never ending stigma of being unwanted by the entire town that is stopping Eddie from selfishly enjoying this pivotal night with Steve. Eddie thinks that alerting his boyfriend to the reality of people’s feelings towards him is in some way protecting Steve. Though, in a lot of ways, it’s probably just hurting them both.

Shaking his head of the thought, Eddie forces himself to take in the alternator he’s meant to be assessing. Even doing so with half of his attention, Eddie knows the thing needs to be replaced. He’s even conscious of the fact that they don’t have the part, so his current effort is totally useless, anyway. If he acknowledges those truths, Eddie also has to acknowledge that his presence in the garage tonight is totally useless, too. His mind is everywhere but the job he’s there to be doing. He’s too caught up in the way the distance he’s been trying to put between himself and everyone around him is slowly killing him. Eddie can’t get away from the unfairness of being treated like a killer when the actuality of the situation is so much worse. There’s even a feeling of mourning for the fundamental thing he’s missing because life isn’t fair and he’s too stubborn and prideful to talk to anyone about it. So many thoughts run through his mind and not one of them has to do with the Chevy he’s currently pretending to fiddle with. Thankfully, Sal notices and sends him home. “Don’t come back until your shift next Tuesday, Munson. I’ll have the replacement alternator waiting for you.”

Eddie leaves the garage without argument or complaint. He shoots his boss a grateful smile after he’s washed all the grease off his hands and changes out of dirty coveralls. The ripped up jeans on his legs already make him feel a little better as the wind brushes the bare skin of his knee as he walks out into the freedom of the night. Climbing into the car, Eddie starts to come back from the torrential storm of emotions he’s been letting get the best of him for the past couple of hours. At least at home, Eddie can call Steve on the phone or get stoned or watch a movie that’s truly going to distract him. The options in which he can soothe himself are limitless outside the confines of work. He’s already thinking about how he's going to get Steve over for the night when he pulls into the trailer park. Eddie’s plan is already made up by the time he parks his van, not noticing the halo of soft light coming from the otherwise dark trailer. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s walking into something amazing until the soft music of the stereo in the front room reaches his ears. Only then does he look up to see Steve standing in the front room of the trailer with a soft smile on his face.

Eddie takes in everything all at once. The fairy lights making the space glow, the emptiness of the room that’s been cleared out to obviously resemble a dance floor – all of the little details are so overwhelming that Eddie’s sure he’s missing some. His brain halts the moment Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s. Steve who looks like a model in a button up white shirt and black tie. He’s in his customary blue jeans and Nike shoes, but the attempt to dress up is noticed. His hair is perfectly styled and the look of confidence Eddie loves the most is settled in Steve’s eyes. Though there’s a palpable layer of nerves that Eddie can feel from his spot at the door, Steve seems calm, cool, and collected. It’s both sexy and heartwarming. Eddie blinks for a second to jump start his brain back to working order in hopes of actually getting some words out of his mouth. “Steve, what is this?”

Steve looks between Dustin and Max before pointing at the small kitchen table. “Let’s move that first.” Both of his sassy children look at him with curious expressions on their face, though it’s Dustin who speaks up first.

“Wayne’s okay with this? Us moving his entire living room out into the lawn?” The little shit can’t even help the way his lip quirks with uncertainty.

Laughing, because that’s the only thing he can do when Dustin starts in with the attitude, Steve nods his head. “As long as everything gets put back where it belongs, Wayne doesn’t care. He thinks it’s sweet, even.” Steve recalls the somewhat embarrassing conversation he and Wayne struggled through the day before. Though Eddie’s uncle is well aware of Steve’s genuine feelings for Eddie, the man is still one of very little words. The fact that he talks to Steve at all is some kind of miracle. Pushing the memory away, Steve gestures at the table again. “You two get the chairs and I’ll carry the table.”

“It is, you know,” Max says, picking up one of the foldable chairs while Dustin handles the other one, “sweet, that is.” Her voice is so full of surety that Steve can’t help but smile widely. Sometimes, being the group’s default kid wrangler gets on his nerves but moments like this where the kids he cares about care right back, that makes being the babysitter worth it. The wink she sends him makes Steve think Max knows the power of her words, too. There’s a heady sort of satisfaction that surrounds the girl as they make their way outside. After depositing the table and chairs by the side of the trailer and rolling up the rug, they decorate the empty living room. Max brings over the lights from her own room and hangs them along the wall, creating a warm glow. Dustin helps Steve move the stereo from Eddie’s room into the hallway where they can maximize the acoustics the best. Weeks of asking Eddie weird questions and “borrowing” his boyfriend’s mixtapes helped Steve make the perfect playlist for them to dance to. It’s not exactly prom the way that Steve remembers it but it’s something.

When they’re done and Dustin makes the call to Sal, Steve thanks them both and sends them back to Max’s trailer where rated R movies are waiting for them as payment for their help. Steve’s sure the candy he threw in there will be greatly appreciated, too. With the few minutes he has to himself, Steve pulls on the new shirt he got for the occasion. Robin will forever make fun of him for the afternoon they spent picking out the perfect one. Though she understands the sentiment, his relationship with Eddie is always going to be something Robin gives him grief for. The weeks of pining she had to deal with give her a prerogative Steve’s always going to be paying her back for. He’s glad for it honestly. It reminds him how much he truly cares for the boy that makes him mindless and babbly like a school girl. Getting a little heckling from his best friend for the mushy person he is and plans to continue to be is absolutely nothing in the face of rightness being with Eddie creates in him. The past version of himself isn’t the guy who plans something cheesy just to see someone smile – this new and exciting version of himself is, though. The Steve he is now can’t wait to see the door open and take in Eddie’s face.

Though he’s never told him, Steve knows about the way people treat Eddie. He’s not immune to comments from people that don’t appreciate Steve’s affiliation with Eddie. It’s so easy to swat them down knowing how brave Eddie is. While the town will never understand the depth of it, Hawkins owes a lot to the boy who rode head first into Demobats that just about killed him. Steve’s been patiently waiting for Eddie to talk to him about the treatment, though he understands why Eddie doesn’t – there are so many things that Steve refuses to bring up again, too. Luckily, Steve is much more of an actions speak louder than words kind of guy, anyway. While Eddie may not be ready to talk about the voices that plague him or the people that still weigh heavily on his innocent boyfriend, Steve can give him something that no one should miss. And since they aren’t a very conventional couple, the off the wall way Steve makes it happen is fitting.

So is the overwhelmed look that overtakes Eddie’s face as he walks through the door. The surprise Eddie feels is tangible. Steve watches him grapple for words as the lights and music and overall atmosphere is taken in. It’s hard not to grin at the speechlessness that overtakes Eddie, but Steve manages to barely hold onto his control. He tries hard to radiate the sort of confidence that makes Eddie want to come to him. Out of all the people that Steve has tried to court, Eddie is the only person that Steve truly wants to lean on him. More than anything, Steve hopes that he’s a safe place for Eddie, that his presence is something that brings the boy peace and happiness unlike the suspicion and upset he’s constantly faced with. Eddie is that kind of serenity for Steve – he’s like a breath of fresh air, the kind of reminder that home exists, even if it’s a person with long curly brown hair and eyes that are wide and all knowing. Being something equal or similar to the person that makes him happiest is what Steve’s striving for.

The perplexed words that eventually fall out of Eddie’s mouth are what break Steve’s mold and drags a smile across his lips. He takes a second to look around, to hear the music he carefully selected, to see Eddie and the many emotions overtaking all of him. He’s proud and happy and glad to note that something he’s done is actually successful. “Not exactly prom, but something like it,” Steve says in reply, shrugging his shoulders like this is something simple and not weeks in the making. He takes a step closer to Eddie and then another until he can reach out and touch.

Eddie’s head is spinning, all previous thoughts of plans and upset and glumness are gone and out the door that’s somehow closed behind him. All that registers is the empty room and surprisingly not crappy music that is radiating everywhere. It’s surrounding Eddie the way the depth of the situation is. Despite never saying a word, Steve read the situation and gave Eddie something he still isn’t capable of asking for. He’s overwhelmed and lost in a way that makes it hard to breath. Ignoring the heaviness in his chest, Eddie leans into Steve’s touch and allows the reality of the situation to overcome him. Eddie’s been worried and sad and detached because of a dance that doesn’t matter (even though it does more than Eddie cares to admit). It’s crazy to think that Steve is perceptive enough to pick up on something that Eddie’s been going out of his way to hide. Except, maybe it’s not so far-fetched – Steve selflessly takes care of the people around him, giving them things they didn’t even know where good for them. Obviously, Eddie isn’t an exception. Steve’s so sneaky that Eddie is at a loss – he’s frozen and can’t think of anything to do but follow Steve’s lead.

Which ends up being the best decision, anyway. Steve’s arms are firm around Eddie as he brings them chest to chest. There’s no space between their bodies, so Eddie can continue to relax and lean into Steve’s hold. He lets the music surround him for the first time since stepping in the door and sighs wistfully. It’s one of the many songs that Eddie sings loudly whenever they’re in his van and Steve gives up his rights to DJ duty. When it ends and another one of Eddie’s favorite begins, he finally looks up and takes all of Steve in. From his wide open eyes to the smile on his face, Steve is radiant. There’s a blush on his cheeks and his hands tighten around Eddie’s waist the longer their stares are intertwined. Eddie wants to speak up and say something about the way his heart is beating faster than it ever has before – that this moment, this singular point in time is the greatest Eddie’s ever experienced. His mouth isn’t cooperating though and the ability to do anything but smile like a loon vacates him. Maybe that’s for the best – words can only muddle what’s quickly shaping up to be romance personified. Instead of forcing himself to speak of his happiness, Eddie experiences it with each bump and sway of their bodies to the music.

Mere minutes or maybe hours later, the tape finally rolls to a stop and silence surrounds them in the empty room. It’s easy and natural to keep on moving, despite the cessation of the music. Eddie’s arms are wrapped around Steve’s neck so tightly that they share breaths. Steve’s got him in a tight grip, like he’s afraid of letting go. Between their position and the shockingly right intimacy, Eddie’s not surprised to find himself leaning into Steve’s space in hopes of kissing red lips. He’s met in the middle with a fierce press of lip against lip. This is a practiced dance for them – Eddie knows how to tilt his head just right to slot Steve’s lip perfectly between his own. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to poke his tongue out and trace the plump roundness of Steve’s bottom lip. The tease is enough for Steve to open his mouth so Eddie can tangle their tongues together in something that creates a spark that lights up them both.

There’s no fumble or fuss as they make their way down the hall and into the furthest room. Not for the first time, Eddie’s grateful for his uncle’s sacrifice – having a room that’s all his own is a glorious plus when Steve’s hands and mouth are promising such beautiful things. Their closeness continues until they’re through the door and in Eddie’s room; only then does he resurface for a breath and put a bit of space between them. He’s able to let his head clear a little bit – Steve’s absolutely intoxicating and Eddie’s an easy victim. It takes very little exposure to Steve at all for Eddie to mindlessly fall into a pit of desire that makes higher function and any sort of thought difficult. After all of Steve’s effort, Eddie wants to be present for the absolute debauchery that’s about to take place. Gesturing over towards the bed, Eddie starts to take off his shirt. “Lie down – I want you to watch.”

Steve is quick to oblige – with a blush on his face and a pep in his step, even. He quickly gets onto the mattress and scoots back until his head is on the pillow with Eddie clearly in sight. The heaviness of his stare makes Eddie shiver – his skin is hot and covered in goosebumps, like Steve’s gaze is a tangible thing that’s touching him. Closing his eyes for a second, Eddie takes in a couple of breaths and clears his head. When he looks up again, Eddie’s focused enough not to fall victim to the blissed out look on Steve’s face (though, it’s a close thing). Instead, he feels confident and wanted as he strips himself down to black boxers that cling to his thighs. He allows Steve to stare to his heart’s content for another moment before launching himself onto the bed to fumble madly at the buttons on Steve’s shirt. Eddie all of the sudden can’t stand to have any barriers between them – he knows for certain he’ll feel so much more comfortable when there’s even ground between them.

Steve’s a little dumb struck as he leans back on the bed and watches Eddie. Things like nakedness and intimacy aren’t all that new to them. Despite not dabbling with guys before, Steve’s libido has taken no hit since getting together with Eddie – in fact, he’s more certain of himself with Eddie than he’s ever been with any of the girls he took to bed. Maybe it’s the safety thing rearing its ugly head again, or maybe Steve’s finally where he’s meant to be. Either way, he’s more than happy to be the one watching Eddie drop his entire outfit, piece by piece, down onto the floor. His feelings about the situation get even more positive when Eddie joins him on the bed and waits no time at all to start helping Steve out of his clothes, too. Between the two of them, Steve is shirtless and writhing on the bed in no time. As Eddie works on his jeans, Steve gets his hands on any part of Eddie’s skin he can. While he’s slim and a bit smaller than Steve himself, Eddie is relatively well built. His muscles flex with every one of the moves he makes while ridding Steve of his clothes. The sight is lovely, made even more so by the way Eddie looks up and grins at him when he gets Steve’s pants off. Soon, they’re both naked, groin to groin, bare skin to skin – it’s hard to think about anything else when Eddie is a delightfully warm weight above him.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers after a moment of toying with the shell of Steve’s ear. His hips are casually thrusting against Steve’s, causing the most glorious friction. It’s hard to process the words at first but Steve finally absorbs them. It takes several moments for him to find the strength to make his lips work – the roll and swivel of Eddie’s hips and the soft press of lips against sensitive skin is too much for Steve to bear.

“Don’t thank me. I want you to be happy, Eddie – “ The words are choked off when another moan rips from Steve’s throat, instead. Eddie’s making quick work of the length of Steve’s torso with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve’s positive he’s going to have little suck bruises and hickies down his front. The marks will stay with him for weeks until Eddie decides to put new ones there as replacement. His possessive energy is familiar and welcomed – Steve appreciates the fact that Eddie wants to mark him up. There’s been so many people that hid their connection to Steve – that battled against it in a way that still makes Steve question himself to this day. His parents, Nancy, the friends he grew up with – everyone always finds a way to push him aside when it really matters. Except Eddie. There’s no limit to the sort of claim that Eddie wants to have over Steve. It’s sort of exhilarating, being wanted that much.

All of his thoughts quickly become nonexistent as Eddie’s lips work their way down Steve’s lower stomach – he’s dangerously close to Steve’s erection that’s practically begging for attention. Before Eddie can get any further, Steve reaches down and flips their positions. The last thing he wants tonight to turn into is a reciprocated gesture that Eddie feels obligated to give. Steve’s no saint but his intentions were completely selfless and pure. He knows Eddie’s angst about prom and wanted to alleviate it. If they’re going to be intimate, Steve’s going to be an active participant. Which is how he finds himself with a mouthful of Eddie’s cock a couple of minutes later. He made quick work of tonguing at Eddie’s nipples and reducing him to moans and pleas of want. Steve’s clever and completely into the physicality of being with Eddie – he’s made it his mission to make note of and remember all the things that drive Eddie wild. Steve takes giving Eddie pleasure very seriously. Seriously enough, at least, to reduce him to mindless groans of Steve’s name more often than not.

Letting up ever so slightly, Steve draws back from Eddie’s cock, replacing the wet heat of his mouth with the tight grip of his hand, instead. Steve shifts himself on the bed until he’s in between Eddie’s legs – strong thighs wrap around him thoughtlessly. In this position, Steve can feel the way Eddie’s hips move up into the circle of his hand, the way his body aches and shivers because of Steve’s ministrations. It’s a heady thing, to realize the sort of impact he has on Eddie – Steve’s never been more proud of himself, honestly. With that in mind, he loosens his grip on Eddie’s cock and looks up with questioning eyes. “What do you want, Eddie? My hand, my mouth, my cock?” Steve asks, leaning down to press their lips together in a hot kiss. There’s no answer for a while – Steve’s plenty happy to occupy Eddie’s mouth until they can’t help but pull away to take gasping breaths.

Eddie is oddly shy when he cups Steve’s face – “I want you to fuck me,” he says with a small break in his voice. Steve’s not given much time to think about it, though – Eddie brings him down into another all-consuming kiss. Whether it’s a diversion or simply lust taking over, Steve can’t tell and at this point, he doesn’t really care. He’s too preoccupied with clever lips and an antsy hand that digs helplessly through Eddie’s bedside table. Steve moans in triumph as his fingers wrap around a tube of lube. Eddie celebrates the little victory by tangling their tongues together in the most distracting way.

Steve’s fingers are dexterous and wide as they open him up – Eddie spends most of those moments thinking about the space they fill inside of him. It’s crazy to think that Eddie made it through so many years with so much emptiness inside of him. Though he can make it through the times where Steve isn’t there, Eddie doesn’t feel complete. Things aren’t right in the world until moments like this one where Steve takes his time mapping out and staking his claim in that empty space. None of the hook ups in his past ever came close to making Eddie feel the way Steve does. That cheesy shit is about as cliché as Eddie’s desire to go to the prom in the first place. He stubbornly continues to blame it on Steve’s influence – as the moment is proving, the greatness that Steve brings to his life makes Eddie do crazy things. Like moan out Steve’s name in such a wanton way that Eddie’s sort of embarrassed to be so done in.

Though, that emotion is so fleeting, Eddie barely registers it. He’s too busy enjoying the deep thrust of Steve’s fingers. First one, and then two, and then a third that almost gives Eddie the full feeling he’s looking for. There’s only one thing that’s going to remedy the situation – though, Eddie’s learned he’s got to be patient for it. Steve can slip in so easily when Eddie gives himself a couple extra moments to relax into the feeling of fullness once again. It’s a total body thing, finally feeling complete and real again. Not only is it a physical experience for him, but Eddie’s also come to find that his psyche and emotions like to jump into the mix, too. That’s why it’s always so overwhelming and Eddie hopes the intensity of it never changes.

When Steve pulls his fingers away, Eddie lets out an undignified moan. It can’t be helped – the sudden feeling of emptiness is too much after that sweet taste of being completely fulfilled. Steve doesn’t make him wait long – he’s gotten really good about rolling a condom on one handed while the other runs soothingly up and down Eddie’s inner thigh. The cool lube Steve spreads over himself is a shock to Eddie’s system, making his hips hitch into the press of Steve’s cockhead against him. The other boy takes advantage of the move and pushes his hips forward, easily slipping himself inside of Eddie so that two becomes one in a way that it’s gloriously impossible for Eddie to puzzle out where he ends and Steve begins. It’s more satisfying than any blowjob or orgasm will ever be. Eddie’s already blown to bits by the simple act of joining together – every thrust and clever flick of Steve’s wrist is a bonus Eddie’s overwhelmingly lucky to take part in. His body feels like it’s on fire, its source stemming from a spot inside of Eddie that Steve ignites so easily. It's heat and wanting and rightness and satiation. The closer he gets to it, the more Eddie knows the spark as the flames of love that burn so damn brightly. Steve Harrington is a magician in that sense.

Little by little, Eddie loses control of himself, willingly giving it over to sure hands that hold his hips and touch him with the sort of reverence Eddie never thought he deserved. Though Steve is admittedly out for his own pleasure, he never neglects Eddie along the way. His fingers are heavy on Eddie’s skin as they skim over ticklish spots and those that are so sensitive, Eddie can’t help but clench around the thickness inside of him. Steve spends more time giving attention to those spots the closer things get to the end – Eddie’s positive Steve loves the tight heat around him. Sometimes Steve even tells Eddie so; the dirty words drip so easily from lips that look so red and innocent and pure. Their plump and kissable and cookie cutter in a way that gives Steve that boy next door look. While Eddie knows the truth, it’s sometimes hard to remember that wicked things can bubble out of Steve Harrington’s mouth, too. He’s not just great hair and a body to die for. He’s grunts and pants and syrupy sweet words that make Eddie’s cock leak precoma uncontrollably. When he gets close, Eddie can’t decide if it’s the dead on hits to his prostate or the sneaky way Steve brings heat to the party with whispered words and clever flicks of his tongue against the shell of Eddie’s ear.

Soon, there’s no space in the room for words or declarations. Both boys are tip toeing the edge, standing right on the precipice a thrust or two away from falling. Eddie’s come to enjoy these tense moments the most – his body isn’t his to control anymore, it’s just a source of hormones and feeling and enjoyment that Eddie’s merely along for the ride for. He doesn’t have to worry about Wayne’s presence or Steve’s nosy parents – Eddie’s free to moan and call out Steve’s name to his heart’s content. He’s panting and groaning through the thrusts that shift from long and languid to fast and deliberate. Steve’s got his target locked in, hitting it with expert precision each swing of his hips. Eddie’s prostate is lit up, making his entire body shutter and clench up tightly the closer his orgasm gets. Finally, it all becomes too much. “Steve – touch me, please. You have to touch me,” Eddie gasps out around a shaky breath. He’s so close to the end that the taste of it lingers in his mouth.

It takes little convincing for Steve to change his pace and shift position enough to take Eddie’s cock in hand. His hips are moving on their own accord and there’s just enough brain power left for Steve to coordinate the movement of his hand with the rest of him. These moments, the ones where Eddie completely surrenders to his pleasure, they’re the ones that Steve enjoys the most. It’s a joy to see Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, to watch his usual pale skin turn red and dewy with lingering want and desire. Never mind the fact that Eddie’s grip around his cock becomes vice-like the closer he gets to the edge. The feeling of Eddie squeezing around him with every stroke of Steve’s hand becomes something of a game. What sort of melody can they create in those last few steps towards that glorious little death. Steve sucks in a breath and buckles in for the finish – he feels it in the way Eddie tightens up before cum splashes over his fist and onto their skin. Though it’s only a mark that they see, Steve is proud to wear the evidence of Eddie’s enjoyment. He’s the reason such a beautiful person lost complete and utter control of themselves. That thought alone is enough for Steve to join Eddie in that far off state of bliss. Steve thrusts a couple more times before he tilts his head back and gasps out Eddie’s name.

There’s the haze of nothingness that surrounds Steve for a little while. He’s just conscious enough to feel Eddie’s hands running along the sweaty skin of his back. Steve recognizes that he’s still on Earth and alive, but that’s about it. He’s a collective haze of mind blowing pleasure and exhaustion that only comes from great sex. Little by little, Steve comes back to the present where Eddie is looking at him with fondness that Steve’s never known before. It’s almost shocking, to see such a soft glance directed towards him. He gulps in a couple long breaths of air before coming to terms with the fact that he’s exactly where he should be, in the arms of the one person that can actually make him feel like he matters. Steve Harrington matters to Eddie Munson, there’s no denying that. Not when Eddie clings to him and whispers “I love you” against the shell of Steve’s ear. Resurfacing in the sort of environment that fosters love is such a different experience for him. No matter how many times they do this, Steve is still taken aback by the extent of Eddie’s feelings – hell, his own feelings, too. While it’s getting easier to swallow the truth, Steve still struggles with the reality of the situation. At the end of the day, Steve’s a person that’s worth loving. At least, Eddie seems to think so.

There’s silence between them for a long time. Steve pulls out and makes quick work of the condom. He uses one of Eddie’s t-shirts from earlier in the week to clean them both off before allowing himself to relax in bed. When he does, Steve finds himself with an armful of cuddly Eddie Munson. His boyfriend is always a little clingy after they disconnect after sex. Steve still hasn’t asked why, but he recognizes the need. It’s nice to hold Eddie close, even if it’s just for a little while.

Eventually, Eddie turns into Steve’s chest, flinging an arm over him to keep him close. “You’re too much, you know that?” Eddie asks with a voice brimming with fondness. Steve knows that’s Eddie’s way of being affectionate. Grinning at that truth, Steve nods his head.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve got to keep you on your toes somehow or another.” Steve caps off his statement with a soft kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “You deserve good things, Eds. It’s nice to be able to give them to you.” And wasn’t that an understatement. The closer they get, the more Steve realizes that he and Eddie are much more alike than he ever could have thought. This love they’re creating between them is something that’s pure and real – it’s the sort of feeling Steve’s been looking to find for all of his life. Their relationship is acceptance and freedom and genuine joy – Steve can be himself and gives Eddie that same opportunity. Being able to live without stigma, that’s new to them both. But so is the all-consuming need to take care of each other. Steve’s certain that the little things they do for each other will get easier as time marches on. For now, he leans into Eddie’s joy and revels in the fact that he managed to bring out such an emotion. They’re learning how to exist outside of the norm in a reality that has monsters like Vecna and makes room for a love like theirs.

It's different but good and right in all the ways that matter. When Steve relaxes into the bed with Eddie curled into him, he closes his eyes knowing that safety and happiness are real for them and will continue to be when the new day comes. Heaven is here, right in this bed with Eddie in his arms.

[amzngdevil]

The "oh's" of your screams still echo in your dreams

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dreamling (Dream of the Endless X Hob Gadling)

Warnings: none

Notes: just a little oneshot inspired by Not Yet by The Amazing Devil. Hope you like it, and feel free to come into my askbox to send requests or just talk 😁

Hob was having a nightmare. Again.

Morpheus didn't know what was happening, but he could feel the different vibration whenever the human blessed (or cursed?) by his sister fell asleep. He hadn't spied on any of Hob's incursions into his realm – no, there was a part of him that kept him from doing that, however much his curiosity grew each night. But this time, it was too much. The terror emanating from Hob's mind was such that it chilled the Dreamlord inside. Concentrating not for the sake of the task, but because Hob was able to get him to focus with little effort, Morpheus slipped into the human's unconscious.

And he was surprised to find him lying curled up on the cold floor of his own mind.

Hob muttered rambling words in the various languages ​​he had learned up to that time. Tears flowed through his closed eyelids that marked his face, twisted in so much pain that Morpheus almost reached out to wipe them away. Almost. Morpheus understood much of what Hob was whispering. He regretted himself so much, blamed himself so much for the mistakes he had made in his never-ending life, that even in his dreams his failures haunted him.

At this point, human and Endless were more alike than they'd admitted. Both struggled to forgive themselves.

The scream of agony that escaped Hob's throat made him open his eyes and see Morpheus standing beside him. Neither of them said anything. The human got up slowly, seeming to fear that this was a hallucination of his brain and not the Dream itself there. Morpheus remained silent, for he knew that words would never be enough at that moment. Hob approached, his tear-streaked face millimeters from Morpheus's.

"What did you come here for?" the question came shyly from his lips.

"I came to hold your hand."

Morpheus's cold fingers intertwined with Hob's as their lips touched.

And the Lord of Dreams soothed the human's heart.

[athetos]

Through some quirk of chemistry or trauma that only a trained team of therapists could unravel, I have come to think “being needed” is the truest form of “being loved”, which has led me to places no sane person would go. I might as well have had a bunch of “easy target” signs on my back for a good decade. I inevitably meet someone cute who is in a bad place in life, help them out and support them, they appreciate me and love me for my assistance, and I fall head over heels. Which would be fine if these were the type of people who just needed help getting on their feet. No, I always commit to the most toxic, “refuse to change because someone (me) will bail them out” people, who only love me they can use me, whether they’re consciously aware of it or not. The type of people who lash out at everyone around them and blame it on their mental illness or history. These are people I can spend hours and hours gathering resources for, to get out of their shitty living situation, to see a therapist, to get a better job, and all they have to do is say yes or do it, and they say “nahh I don’t feel like it right now.” People who do nothing to better themselves or their lives even when the opportunity is right in front of them, because they don’t want to put the work in.

And every time I ignore the warning signs, dive right in because I’m like a golden retriever who is happiest being told “good boy” and getting a Pat on the head, and sometime down the road my friends or family or both sit me down for an intervention and tell me “you have got to get out of this while you can, you’re miserable, can’t you see how miserable they’re making you? When was the last time you were happy? No matter what you do, nothing will change until they decide to get better on their own.” And then I’ll stand up to my partner and tell them “things have to change, I can’t keep enabling you or letting you walk all over me”, and they throw a tantrum and threaten to hurt themselves, and of course we break up and I’ll spend the next several months in therapy processing all the abuse I went through. And then I’ll say “I’ll NEVER make that mistake again!” And proceed to make that mistake again.

Anyway I’m trying to buck my programming and be… not like that anymore. And I definitely feel I’ve made a lot of progress, as I’m probably mentally ready to be in a relationship again. But even if I’m in a healthy relationship for once, I fear that this is going to keep haunting me. There might always going to be words or actions that make me flinch, or memories that make me space out and lose track of time. I’ll probably always have thoughts in the back of my head like “is this actually healthy? Are they using you? You stupid, stupid fool. How can you be sure this isn’t someone manipulating you again? How can you be sure that this love isn’t conditional on what resources you can provide them?” It seems so much like people don’t care about me for me, but for what I can do for them. Even if I date someone who has their life totally together, there will always be something to knock them down, and until that moment, I don’t know how they’ll react. My fatal flaw is I’m too trusting, and pathetically loyal, so it’s so easy for me to get trapped when it’s far too late to simply bow out.

Yet I remain optimistic!

[sangennaro]

imagination + apocalypse notes 1

Ruthless determinism-- the view of the universe as a strictly linear, transparently inhumane, and irresistibly mechanistic series of causes' effects-- is not just a characteristic of apocalyptic thinking, it is the catalyst of apocalyptic thinking and the fuel for this perspective's cancerous expansion. And it seems the more one becomes convinced the inexorable forces of System are pulling us towards some kind of climactic irreversible catastrophe, the more we demand greater certainty. We demand greater certainty from our authorities, so that we may feel secure in granting it to ourselves-- though one convinced that her survival depends on obtaining certainty will surely have it, regardless of whether or not the authorities oblige. Of course, no matter how certain we are that a little more certainty will make our escape from the collapsing system certain, greater net certainty serves only to strengthen our faith in a fundamentally deterministic universe.

Yes, controlled burns carried out by experts can be used to limit the damage caused by forest fires. But it is another thing entirely to gesture pedantically towards the existence of controlled burns in order to justify bringing more fire into your own burning house. And this is what it feels like our people are doing right now.

Relinquishing control, acknowledging that there are impulses we are not able to justify, that there are motivations (in both ourselves and others) that we cannot perceive, that our science produces interpretations of facts and not facts themselves, that one ultimately deserves neither full credit for her own successes or the entire blame for her own failures-- and thus, that total perfect conscious management is neither sufficient to guarantee success/survival nor a necessary condition of its attainment: this is the water for which our burning home so clearly thirsts.

Our vain recurring mistake seems to be thinking that the antidote to toxic determinism is to be found in strong acts of individual human will, acts so effective that they prove U(niverse) Ain't The Boss of Me. But no amount of gesturing pedantically towards the existence of inoculation can turn the next round of shots into a sobering elixir. There is no way to stop being drunk that involves putting more alcohol into your system.

We are scared to relax, but we must relax. The system only gets more ruthless-- the universe only gets more deterministic-- until we return to it the possibility that something other than conscious acts of human willfulness (and the cold iron chains of causes' effects that these acts set in motion) play significant, decisive roles in shaping the future. Haunted-tormented-cornered-oppressed by unwanted effects, we don't need better causes: what we need is freedom-- and not the conceited illusory freedom of the subsidized shopper or the unpunished criminal, but the real down-to-earth freedom of the human imagination.

To believe that an apocalypse is upon us unless we X, Y, & Z is a failure to use the imagination. Ruthless determinists say the manifest urgency of our present crisis makes it irresponsible to earnestly consult/apply the imagination at this time, and that being realistic means simply identifying which blemishes on the system we would like to scrape off, then proceeding directly to a future that looks exactly like what's going on now minus the bad parts.

"I know that ordering shots is what got us into this deplorable state, and I know that each additional shot seems to make our inebriation more painfully undeniable-- but you can't seriously expect me to just sit here now and hope I just somehow magically become sober again?" That's what they tell us when we implore them to stop trying harder to perfectly manage everyone. "It is for these very reasons," they slur at us, with an undisguised contempt it never occurs to them to exhibit before drinking, "that we must choose the exact right spirit to imbibe next. We must identify and with all urgency and order the appropriate substance that will chemically disinhibit our presently ethanol-ion-bonded GABAa receptors, so that we can drive home without danger, so that tomorrow we can continue on with all of the good plans that have already been made, in particular those regarding our career."

To push furiously towards a future that is merely the present without the bad parts is a drunk way of dealing with a compromised system. It is shot through with regressive, juvenile fantasy. The sober response is to imagine a new system that meets the needs the old one is failing to meet. Then it will be necessary to imagine one's self living securely in that new system. To envision a thing before it has come before one's own eyes: Certainty is not a part of this operation. Without the freedom of the human imagination, imminent apocalypse is permanently inevitable.

[butterflydragon14]

“I have always been proud of you. From the first moment I’ve been proud of you. And it was my pride that blinded me. I loved you too much to see what you were becoming”

[heliads]

TW imagine being Lydia sister and meeting Theo out in the woods because of your power and you tell him everything about the pack.

i am assuming this is in response to your earlier request, which i posted a few days ago. if not it is now <3

part one / masterlist

And so, through great premonition and an utter lack of grief, Theo Raeken comes to stay in Beacon Hills. He chooses his battles carefully, always orchestrating from behind the scenes. He’s set himself up perfectly to take over this town; after seeing a thousand battles, both past and future, you can appreciate when someone makes as few mistakes as possible. Theo is one of these seeming masterminds.

You wondered, once, if there was anything you could do to change the future you saw. By telling Scott that he could trust Theo, you thought that would be as sure a sign as any that things would start to change. It would be fascinating to see that, wouldn’t it? Would your old drawings crumple up and burn without your knowledge, pictures of a world that no longer existed? Would they scrub themselves from your memory, leaving behind nothing but blank pages that not even time could touch?

In the end, you’ll never know. Perhaps time has written and rewritten itself a thousand times before, all without your knowledge. It stuns you for the first time how shaky a grasp you have on your visions. You thought that the only thing that could haunt you was their irregularity, how you couldn’t control when they came or what you saw.

This, though? This changes everything. For the first time, you rewrote history yourself. You put yourself into the picture by advising Scott on what to do, you lied to him about what to expect so he would go in blind. That wasn’t in any of your pictures, but maybe you should check again. You have no idea what’s real and what isn’t, and neither does anyone else.

Least of all Theo Raeken, supposed friend and prophesied villain. He’s supposed to be setting his sights on tearing out Scott’s throat, fully centered around the McCall pack the way that all past enemies have been. No one takes note of you unless they’re so blind that they miss the main characters in this story.

It might be Theo’s natural skill at blending into the shadows that makes him finally notice you. He wasn’t supposed to, you didn’t count on that. It should have been the two of you ducking around each other until this entire world burns down to ash, when the curtains blocking both of you liars from view finally unravel to threads forever.

Maybe he looked up while you were both pulling strings and saw you at last. It feels like he’d be the first in a while, certainly. You were in the vast darkness that comes with not being in the spotlight, and suddenly Theo spotted you in a way that no one ever had.

He suspects you, you’re certain of it. Guilty hearts call out to each other like searchlights, practically blinding in their blame. Theo is the only one who could possibly see all the secrets you’re hiding, because he’s the only other person who has half as many skeletons in his closet as you.

In the end, he takes things into his own hands and meets up with you, alone, where nobody else can see. He’s terrified that you’ll reveal him, or worse, you won’t reveal something he needs to know. Theo Raeken has always been a scavenger, forever searching for some way to get ahead. He’s used to finding needles in haystacks, the perfect weapon in a sea of nobodies. And, using these gifts, he finds you.

You stumble upon Theo in the middle of the Beacon Hills Preserve, just as requested. You’re not sure where he got your phone number, or how, but you knew it was him the moment he texted. Every player in your fables has a specific sound, an energy that you’d recognize from a brush of fingers against ink. Theo seems like Theo from an unknown number alone.

He’s leaning against the trunk of a massive oak tree, face half in shadow from the bobbing leaves. The darkness casts shapes upon his face, blocking out his eyes like a mask. He straightens up when he sees you, although you’re all but certain he must have known you were coming from the moment you parked your car on the outskirts of the forest and started making your way in.

You certainly saw the familiar spark of attentiveness in his eyes from yet another one of your visions. Your hands are still faintly bleeding from the force of a pen crushed against your palm, one more last minute confirmation that this is where you’re supposed to be. At this point, you want to see this story end.

It already ended a long time ago, if you think about it that way. By the time you think this, your future is set in stone. This moment is a distant past, the future no more than memories. This story has happened before, and it will happen again. There is nothing you, even the seer of prophecies, can do to change that. This story will conclude as it so wishes, and even your most courageous heroes cannot fight this.

Theo will try, though. The villains always try, and their fights are the worst of all. The heroes are allowed to stumble for a few moments before they right themselves, the universe likes to see them suffer before they prove themselves. The enemies, though? They were doomed to die even before they were born. They harbor their motivations, and no matter what they do, they’ll never win. They can fight tooth and nail for a promise they will never be able to keep. Tell me, does that sound fair to you?

Perhaps that’s why Theo seems so taken with you, he senses a sympathizer. Surely he’s aware of it, his imminent loss, he seems smarter than the rest. You want to reach out and shake him by the shoulders, tell him that no matter how many tricks he plays, he’ll always come up short.

Instead, you keep your distance. You rather like this story, and although you’ll be sad to see him go, you want to see every clash of forces between Theo’s soon-to-be pack and Scott’s friends. No matter the tragedy, everybody loves a good show. This one might be one of your favorites.

Theo steps forwards, out of the shadows and into the sun. “I hear you’re something of a seer.”

You incline your head once. “I’m a Martin.”

Theo’s eyes are curious. He’s still used to figuring things out, assuming that he’ll have a solution to every problem. “More than that, I think. You know, I was trying to figure things out about this town, and I thought it might be helpful to ask you a question or two.”

He hesitates, gauging if you’ll put up a fight. Instead, you just lift a shoulder. “Go ahead.”

The corner of Theo’s mouth twitches up, victory on the Raeken front. So damn used to getting what he wants, that’s why he’ll hit the ground so hard when he falls.

“I’m confused,” he says, drawing ever closer to you, “why is it that someone like you could have so many gifts, and yet no one listens? You issue out predictions and Scott and his friends ignore them.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Everyone likes to believe in what they think is right. It’s no fun if you know your story before it even happens. At least by ignoring me Scott can pretend that he has a fighting chance.”

Theo nods slowly. “Right, because otherwise you’ll advise them on what to do. Like you told Scott that he could trust me. You know who I really am, don’t you?”

His gaze is sharp, flint and steel. You try to bury the sparks before your chest can catch ablaze.

“You are Theo Raeken,” you say decisively, “you’re a chimera from the Dread Doctors and you’re here to tear this town to pieces. You’ll kill Scott McCall or else make someone else do it. At the end of the day, you plan on getting what you want. Power.”

Theo almost seems pleased. “So you do know. Why wouldn’t you give me up to Scott? Or at least stay neutral?”

“You want Beacon Hills to be yours,” you repeat, “I say take the place away. How does that saying go, ‘a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth?’ I want the whole town gone.”

Theo’s definitely smiling now. He’s just a few feet away, looking at you like you’re the answer to all of his prayers. “Can I tell you something? You already know it, probably, but I want you to hear it directly from me. I came here to make my perfect pack. The Nogitsune, the dark kitsune. The Martin sister who could see the future. I don’t want Lydia, Y/N. I want you.”

You exhale quietly, although not without a touch of humor. “You want a promise that I’m not going to expose you.”

Theo shakes his head. “You know how this entire plan goes down. I want you by my side when this happens. You’re worth more than you’ve let yourself think, believe me.”

This time you do laugh. “I believe that you’d say whatever you needed if it meant you could manipulate me. It’s what you do best, Theo. I have a firsthand account. You make people trust you so you can get what you need. It won’t work for everybody.”

Theo raises his chin. “No?” It’s not a threat, but he makes it sound like it could be one.

“No,” you say, “I’m going to do what I always do, which is to stay in the shadows and let the world pass by. This is my favorite source of entertainment, Theo. I’m not going to risk my ability to see what happens next just because you want some insurance.”

Theo laughs too, almost impressed. “Your entire home could be destroyed, and you want to see it happen. What happened to make you hate them so much? They cut you out of a family, I get that. They like to pretend that they’re better than that, though. You’ve really seen enough to make you wish they were dead?”

Your smile drops away. “I don’t wish any of them were dead. That’s the best part of seeing everything, Theo, I know who gets hurt. I can sit back and watch because I don’t have to fear for them. I am furious because I tried one too many times to get involved and they didn’t let me, and that’s when somebody died.”

Your voice is quiet, and you have to take a breath to calm yourself. “There was one time when I didn’t see a death coming. Allison Argent. I regret that one. I tried to tell Scott that an attack was coming, and he wouldn’t listen to a single detail. I begged and pleaded with everyone I could to let me help, and their refusal meant Allison died. If they don’t want my advice, fine. They’re never getting it again.”

Theo nods. “I’ll be sure to ask you things whenever I can, then. Just in case.”

You almost smile. “I know you will.”

You remain true to your word, and stay out of the whole Theo affair. You were a little curious to see how Scott would react when Theo finally betrayed him, if he’d run to you and ask why you lied. In reality, he barely connects the two events. This only cements what you’d thought earlier– Scott would never truly believe you. No one ever would.

Then again, there is one person who did. You’re there when the fight finally ends, when the bad guy finally makes his one mistake and the universe is able to swoop in and reset the scales. Theo’s fate is terrible, though, and you hated to see it even from the beginning.

When Kira first opens up the chasm to Hell, Theo looks terrified. It’s a strange expression on his normally calm face. And, when he asks for help, he shouts first to you. There’s nothing you can do, he knows that as do the rest, but he still looks to you. Maybe it’s because he knows you’re the only one here who would legitimately care if he went.

You do say one thing, though, before Theo falls forever. “I’ll see you soon.”

There’s a smile on his face before he goes. Theo is the first person to ever believe you, and he does now. He knows he’s getting out, and all because you said it. It is a refreshing thing, to be trusted. It’s a shame that it’s only happening now. You could have done so much together. Then again, you still have time. You know that better than anyone.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat

[spacehorrors]

fascinated by the qgj apprentice shenanigans. what do u mean xanathos would be an interesting parallel to anakin? I know the basic stuff, how would his existence haunt(??) obi wan and anakin??

haunt is the perfect word yes ok so I'll break down some basic similarities and differences to anakin first.

similarities:

had a master who saw themselves as a father figure/protective familial figure to the person even though they knew this was against their code

said master then indulges them and is blind to their flaws (true master shifu attitudes right? right)

is brought away from their birth family at an age where they still remember them/has familial roots that they are encouraged to ignore but don't.

believe in their own power and that they should exercise it.

to different extents and for different reasons they blame their master for their parent's death

differences

most obviously xanatos' family connections stem from privilege and wealth and anakin was a slave. they both seek out their family for very very different reasons.

so I think xanatos would be an interesting character to compare with anakin even if he wasn't in the same lineage as him because it could've actually delved into jedi and their families a bit more and examined where jedi see the root of their power being. also whether they feel like they are owed something because of their power or whether they owe something themselves.

their relationship with their masters and the flaws of having master padawan pairs and a rule of non attachment could shine a light on that contradiction.

he just makes an effective foil simply you could see on the surface they both fall to the dark side for their family but deeper than that they are very different. so it's a fun exploration!

where it gets interesting is the fact he's in the same lineage as anakin. this creates the idea that this lineage is doomed to repeat its own mistakes and is trapped in a cycle as they are so similar.

on a more character based level you can see the way xanatos might have impacted obi-wan. xanatos is the perfect, and perhaps too easy, an example on why jedi shouldn't contact their families.

the fact, in canon, this is one of the only examples obi-wan sees of jedi and their birth families might suggest why's he like that later on. do I think he's right? no! do I think xanatos changed his perspective of attachment and parenthood? yes.

xanatos also haunts obi-wan because of his impact on qui-gon! and he haunts anakin by his impact on obi-wan's childhood.

side note that I also think qui-gon was thinking of xanatos when he first met anakin. but that's a whole other kettle of fish.

hope this is an ok explanation? yeah. feel free to ask me more things if you want to!