#but i don't like to be repetitive

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[reblog-house]

watching every minecraft series he's made i'm obsessed

[lilacs-stash]

"That made my life feel pointless"

[pizzapasta23045]

I saw someone say that kavetham was roughly (Al haitham) medicated neurodivergence vs (Kaveh) unmedicated neurodivergence but allow me to offer you:

[composeregg]

disclaimer: I am a volunteer for the OTW. I am speaking for myself, not on behalf of the organization, anything expressed here is my own. I may be wrong about some things, I'm very much not involved in any of this as part of my work. Additionally, I haven't run this by anyone else in the org, so take that as you will. I'm just a person, hoping to reassure other people, fans like myself.

A few people have come to me asking questions about this, and asking clarification already, so I just.... Want to reassure everyone. A lot of people follow me and know I volunteer, even if I don't talk about it much.

No, Ao3/OTW is not endorsing AI. Scraping is not being allowed or encouraged (you can, in fact, see here in this link, the code of Ao3 disallowing scraping). There is only so much the organization can do to prevent this. If you set your works to logged-in users only, it does somewhat give more protections. Data miners are very proactive, and prevention measures can only do so much. After the data is harvested, with or without consent, it is that much harder to pry back and out of those hands.

Many, MANY people are panicking. They saw an excerpt of an interview in this week's OTW Signal news roundup. This interview was from someone on the legal team of the OTW. She was speaking not for the organization, but as someone with credentials in the fields being discussed. Much of this has been misinterpreted and relayed second-hand. It was a conversation primarily about trademarks and AI.

I don't know the course the OTW is going to take regarding AI with the law, myself. That's not my field whatsoever. I can say, how would we even have the TIME or ABILITY to "develop an AI to be integrated with AO3" as some people speculate? It took our volunteer coders years to work out a block/mute function and get it from idea through testing to implementation.

The OTW does not want to just feed everyone's fanfic into AI. The organization may end up taking a middle-ground stance on the legality of AI and AI-generated creations. I don't think that Disney would care much for the distinction between "This is an AI generated item infringing on our trademark, remove it" versus "This is a fan-made item infringing on our trademark, remove it." The legality of AI versus fan creations is a very tricky topic, and from my understanding, that was the focus of the interview and what was being discussed (along with some other ideas).

Protecting the right to fanfiction and fan creations existing is the primary goal, and navigating new, emerging technologies that could find similar arguments, whether or not people at the org agree with them, means they may end up protecting them somewhat. This is not a betrayal of fandom. Every volunteer is an individual, and opinions within the org are all over the place, but we are all fans as well, and we don't want random bots just lifting all our fics and creations without any say-so either.

The topic of AI is a landmine right now, and I do think it was insensitive and ignorant of the current fandom/political sphere to highlight something like that interview, especially in the way it was done. It immediately led to panic, distrust in the org, and people spinning off numerous infeasible ideas because they simply do not have information, and hear rumors or don't parse a conversation about legalese well (I know I had trouble with it! A lot of my understanding comes from reading discussion about it myself). Nuance is important, as is the fact that nothing is ever published or discussed in a vacuum.

I don't blame anyone for having misinformation, I get it. It can be hard to find correct info. Transparency is something the org is not always great at (it's being worked on! Everyone is aware it's an issue! We are just very,,,,, very slow at implementing changes, as a volunteer-run organization). Time is the OTW's most valuable resource, and we are constantly, constantly in demand and in need of more time and manpower. It can make communications difficult, and very stressing.

The OTW is a non-profit, it is not selling any data. It does not want to sell your data. The money it makes is solely from donations. There is not going to be any selling to AI, there is not going to be any attempt to implement AI for the OTW itself.

Honestly, beyond that, I'm super not qualified to talk about the legal aspects of everything in the article/interview. I don't know all the inner workings of the org, I don't know all the thoughts and opinions and legal stances. I don't even know all the nuances of AI legal issues myself. I just know that I don't think it can replace creativity, and that it could be a fascinating tool in a better world (but I do not trust how it could be used here and now).

I hope this helps anyone who sees it. I hope that this is a reassurance, and that maybe it will help people feel better. I know panic is a powerful force, and I know there is a great distrust in any organization even mentioning AI (usually for valid reasons!). I know information can be hard to find, and legal discussions hard to read, I've been there with the org myself.

But the OTW is a group of people trying their best to make sure that fandom has protections. There are like, a thousand of us or something. Not all of us are going to agree on everything, but we all agree fans deserve a space to create and have those creations protected. One of the inciting incidents of its founding was a hatred of the idea of some company trying to profit off of fanworks with complete disregard for the fans themselves.

The OTW was founded to prevent fans from being taken advantage of, and to protect fandom's right to exist. It is never going to betray that core tenet. Partially because we're all fans ourselves and have a vested interest in keeping it that way, but additionally: This organization is nothing without its volunteers, and if someone high up on the board or something genuinely tried, we would know and we would make ourselves known.

(Just look into the Board Election of 2015!)

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

rip reyna you would have loved ‘i know you’ by faye webster

[theodoravery]

the thing about amen and vincent that i think a lot of you still do not understand (and i'm using them specifically bc they're the ones being compared) is that 1) amen wants every single dark magician dead, and he takes pleasure in torturing them and killing them, that is a very important part of his character, and that's why the book has made it so fucking clear! amen said it himself! he is not gonna change his ways just because he and eva are in love! eva literally makes the decision to accept that part of himself, so you cannot deny it and you can't complain if you were expecting something else because the book was pretty clear from the beginning about who amen really was (and i'm not saying he doesn't have layers but those do not take away the fact that he enjoys killing and that's that) -- and 2) vincent is not like amen at all. sure, his job, and i think it even has to do with his legacy, is being a demon hunter, but he doesn't go around killing every fucking demon he comes across, he's only after the ones who don't care about his world's ways, the ones who kill humans (like mc was planning to do until he told her what would happen if she did). and sure, you can argue that both amen and vincent want to rid the world of "evil", but again, amen takes pleasure in toturing and killing people (and it's because of a personal vendetta he has, may i add), vincent does not

[random-human-being2311]

there is just something so beautiful about songs about the joy you get from such mundane things.

like singing about how the weather's sunny or the weather's rainy but in a way so heartfelt and uplifting the song stays with you, close to your heart for years to come even if you don't know its name

like singing about how much you love your best friends. not because they recently did something that particularly amazes you but just appreciating them being there for you and just generally genuinely making you happy

the most mundane everyday things can become the most meaningful and heartfelt and it's probably just because I'm aroace but I feel that they're so much more genuine than songs about how happy you are because you and your romantic partner got back together or something

i remember seeing a youtube comment a short while back that was along the lines of "I know that usually it's only love songs that are meaningful but this song is the exception" and just thinking dear god how sad must this person's life be if they can't find beauty in anything other than something to do with love. Have you never just stared at a bird perched in a tree singing? Never seen a painting so full of colours that compliment each other in such a way that they each make the others look brighter but it never becomes a clashing over-the-top mess but a harmony of rainbows? Never just eaten a really good meal?

I would trade a thousand shallow, boring, generic songs about romance or heartbreak in exchange for one song about the beauty in the mundane things we take for granted.

[bonefall]

What cats give Tigerstar his lives, since he gets them from the dark forest instead?

I think StarClan has an argument over it. The vast majority of cats in StarClan are furious with him; his murder attempts, his killings of innocent cats, his betrayal of ThunderClan when he was an ally of Brokenstar. He's everything they don't want.

But on the other hand... a little bit has changed about the dynamics of Bonefall TPB StarClan since I decided he would get Dark Forest Lives.

This is before Bluestar's death and Thistleclaw is still part of StarClan. So are his supporters. There are a few of them who want to give a life.

So I'm thinking, first, StarClan rejects him. Says they flatly refuse to give him his lives for what he has done. Runningnose leads him away, knowing there are other allies in the skies, but a few of his StarClan supporters follow quietly. Not very many-- less than 3.

It may make a cool setting for him to receive his lives at the border between StarClan and the Dark Forest. It's a strange, dusty nebula-like place where it's hard to see what's in front of you, impossible to find StarClan unless you're blessed by a star. Some of the glowing eyes in the fog are blue; most are red.

Thistleclaw (StarClan) For purity. To always stick to his principles, even when it makes life harder.

Brokenstar (Dark Forest) For ShadowClan. To always keep it in his heart, and protect it at all costs. It is the strongest and most noble Clan, and without it he would not be leader today; be worthy of it.

Skystar (StarClan) For conquest. Long ago, he watched his namesake Clan wither from the inside due to weakness. When the time came that they had no more territory to miserably cling to, they drowned like ants without a leaf. Never roll over and show your belly to your opponent; take what others don't deserve to have!

Leopardfoot (StarClan) For legacy. She conceived Tigerstar and his siblings because she wanted to mother strong, honorable kits. Pinestar and his bloodline were known for being Crusaders, respected and powerful. He left them and destroyed his reputation; but she's here to remind him that he is her son, more than he is his son. She finishes by telling him how proud she is.

Mapleshade (Dark Forest) For revenge. Oakstar put her children in that river, and Darkstar refused to allow her to bury them. She killed 3 more and StarClan became so furious they called both leaders to a trial and damned her victims in their blind rage. She couldn't win; but she could hurt them. THAT is a victory.

Oakstar (Dark Forest) For glory. After StarClan unfairly put him on that trial, he dedicated his life to trying to please them as they allowed a ridiculous rule to be implemented. His Crusades did not please StarClan, but they were wrong. They were a high point in history, never before nor since have warriors been so strong as when they brawled constantly, just for honor! Remember that warriors were made to fight, it is life's purpose.

Clawface (Dark Forest) For humility. All the strength in the world won't get an idiot very far, and it's easy to get caught off guard when you think you're at your most powerful. Never underestimate an opponent-- especially one you think will be easy to beat. (because he got killed by Graystripe lmao)

Shredtail (Dark Forest) For dedication. Always have a goal in mind, make every action a means to an end. Know what you want and cut a path towards it-- even through your allies, if it comes down to it.

And he looks around... is there no 9th cat to give him a life? Someone assures him that sometimes leaders don't get 9, when there aren't enough cats who wish for their long rule.

Angry, he's about to pack it up and move on, when a voice asks, "have I missed the party?"

It's Spottedleaf, his old friend... and a cat who was caught in the crossfire of his scheme to replace Lionheart. She plays with him a bit. "I'll give you a life... but I won't tell you what it is! Do you trust me?" knowing Spotty, and knowing he got her killed, and knowing she knows now that he killed her brother, he thinks about this... but his ambition wins out. He wants to win as long as possible.

The life she gives him is for death. For his first to be his last. She lays a curse on him that day as revenge for what he did and what he became; that his reign will be short and his ending bloody.

Later, when Tigerstar is striking the Impossible Deal with Scourge that he does not plan to honor, the leader of BloodClan pauses to consider the alliance... Clan cats are a dishonorable bunch, and BloodClan formed in the first place to oppose their violent crusades. Scourge is no fool, there's no way this broad-shouldered scoundrel is planning to make good on his side of the bargain.

But against his better judgement, as if the wind whispers in his ear... he agrees.

psst! Go look at this fanart of this scene!

[masterfuldoodler]

If half alive has 1000 fans I am one of them. If half alive has 1 fan, I am that fan

[aquanutart]

an upside-down truth / a fallen star

[kianaflame23]

Forgiveness ☆ Final Fantasy XVI Clive Rosfield x f!reader N*FW

Sequel to "Hidden Feelings"

NO MINORS! ONLY 🔞 SO I WILL BLOCK YOU IF YOU DO NOT SHOW YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO!

You were sitting in a chair, looking at the moon as you wonder to yourself. You felt a chill as you didn't want to wear a sexy silk nightgown. Barnabas ordered you to wear it as he wants to make love with you....

'Why am I still with King Barnabas...?

Then, you remember.... you were only with Barnabas and his army because you don't want Clive and your friends to get killed....

'I hope Clive was able to get his revenge...'

You looked at your ring finger, seeing a dark blue with flower on that wedding ring. You sighed to yourself, then look at the chains on your hands and feets....you could use your magic and leave, however, those chains drains your magic. Not allowing you to protect yourself if you tried to escape.....

'At least, I am his fiancée......'

'Why?! I hate Barnabas! Trying to kiss me or even touch my body!', you thought to yourself as you felt disgusted.

You sighed heavily, getting up from the chair and slowly headed to your bed as you hope that Barnabas will forget you....but you are going to be his wife very soon...he waited for too long....

You pick up the soft blanket as you got yourself comfortable in your bed, closing your eyes. Mentally preparing yourself for the worst as you start to pray one last time before falling asleep....

".....(Y/N)......"

".....wake......"

".....up, my sweet angel..."

'.....why am I hearing Clive....voice...?'

You groans as you tried to awake from your slumber, you couldn't see clearly until you saw him.....Clive Rosfield....the sweet knight who broke your heart.....

"Clive?! Where am I....? Why are you here at Barnabas' castle?!"

"(Y/N), he's dead. I killed him. You don't need to worry about him anymore, my love....", you widened your eyes, barely noticing how different he looks....his hair got more fluffy. His bearer mark isn't there.... You caresses his left cheek, your thumb touches his scar gently. Clive leans on your hand as he sighs in relief. Feeling joy to see you safe...no longer having nightmares of you, being away from him.

"....what happened, Clive...?"

"Jill and Torgal protected you as I fought against Barnabas. It was not an easy battle but I won. We are in Cid's safe hub. You're sa--

"WHY ARE YOU SO NICE TO ME? I AM JUST A FRIEND TO YOU! YOU SEE ME AS A SISTER FIGURE, RIGHT?"

"P-please allow me to ex--"

"No! You should be with Jill Warrick, not me! You and Jill are meant to be toge--", You didn't finish your sentence as you felt his hands on your shoulders, pulling you to his chest as he embraces you tightly. Then, you felt small tears dripping down to your hair. Your heart drop, you couldn't believe your eyes....Clive is crying.....

".....I....Clive...."

"Forgive me....for making you think that I have feelings for Jill, (Y/N)."

"I always see you with Jill....after I told you my....love confession...."

"It's fine that you like her more than a fri--", you said to Clive, feeling yourself sad but you want him to be happy. He deserves to be with someone....who can always cheer him up, giving him love and affection....

You want to be his lover....his wife but imagining Clive and Jill being together....you were lost in your thoughts, Clive removed his hands from you, his blue eyes look at you for a moment. Hating himself for hurting you...Cidolfus was right....he was a coward for not telling you...that he loves you....

'I am going to prove her that I only want her, no one else....I'll do anything to see her smile again....'

He bends down on one knee, gaining your attention as you gasped. Covering your mouth as you began to panic.

'No...why is he proposing to me? I should tell h--', your thoughts were interrupted as you hear Clive's voice.

"That day, I was a coward and a huge idiot for walking away from your confession. I was stunned....didn't know how to react. Your beauty took my breathe away...Your smile made me flustered and I just don’t know what to say, I wanted to tell you that "I love you". I left you there...alone....I'm sorry for ignoring you....I thought you would come to me so I waited and waited until you talk to me....but you didn't....it should have been me....coming to you....begging you to forgive me....You don't need to worry about my revenge journey. I have something more important than my obsession with revenge. Well, "someone" very important...it's you, my love. I'll be your husband! I can wait for years if I have to! All I want is to see you cute smile and being happy....maybe we can have a family...rebuild our own kingdom! Please...forgive me...."

You want to say something, but words didn't come out from your mouth. You nervously answered to his speech.

"I-I don't know what to say...Clive....I wa--"

"Will you marry me, (F/N) (L/N)?", Clive said to you, showing you a beautiful red rose ring as you can see his whole body shakes in fear. Even you can see his hand shakily as Clive desperately look at you, to see if you still love him....

You sighs as you turned your body away from him, still in the bed as you thought to yourself for a second, then you

"Please tell me your answe--"

"Clive Rosfield! Close your eyes! Do it now!", you barked at poor Clive, making him flinch from your voice and closed his eyes. Feeling confused on what you are going to do, he doesn't want you to leave him....

You felt your cheeks burn, trying not to feel embarrassed as you took off your nightgown. Blushing even more, you shakily spoked to Clive, telling him that he can open his eyes.... covering your body as he stared at you, lust consume his whole body.

"Then, you want to be mi--"

"Prove to me....that you want me. If you truly love me and only me, then we'll get married....Clive.", you smiled nervously at your knight. Your hero.... you told him to take off his clothes, Clive didn’t need you to tell him twice. Exposing his buff chest to your face as your eyes widened in astonished, smiling weakly at Clive.

"Oh my! HE GOT MORE MUSCULAR?!"

As you were too distracted with your mind, Clive grabbed your hand, placing the beautiful ring on your delicate finger, your ring finger.....you snapped out of your thoughts and gasped.

"Clive?! I didn't said ye--", Clive didn’t waste time as he kissed your lips with lust and desire, kissing you passionately as you moan. Clive took his chance to deepen his kiss, you felt his tongue touch yours. Small tears appears in your eyes, not believing that you are going to make love with your darling knight. Pushing you gently towards the mattress as you blush, still kissing you as Clive starts to use his fingers on your sweet flower. Fingering you slowly before thrusting more deeper in you. Moaning as you closed your eyes in pleasure, enjoying his fingers as his thumb rubs yor clitoris rapidly. You warned Clive that you were going to climax on him....

"A-ah! I'm going to cum, Clivey!", you stopped kissing him, getting closer to climax until Clive decided to take off his fingers. Pouting to yourself as you whined at him, wanting to release your cum on him.

"Clive! I wanted to cu--", he didn't gave you a chance to talk, opening your legs as he strokes his shaft before inserting it in your pussy. Closing your eyes in pain as you bit your lips, hoping to feel pleasure. As soon his cock is fully in your sweet flower, you felt Clive's tears falling to your face. You knew that Clive is crying again....he hugged you as you allow him to sob in your neck. Hugging him tightly as you decided to give his one last chance. To redeem himself, maybe you can be happy again. Happy with your hero....

"......(Y/N).....forgive me, my love...I'm so--", you stopped him with a soft kiss, surprising Clive as his blue eyes stares at yours. Smiling at him as you started to cry, his thumb wipes your tears. Asking you if you want to stop as you don't feel his cock in you, blaming himself for being selfish.

"We can make love tomorrow. You should re-"

"No, I'm going to ride you. You're mine!", you grinned at him, pushing Clive down as you're now in top of him.

"I want your cum in me. I hope you are ready, Clive Rosfield!"

Clive is so turned on by your bold words. Feeling your sweet flower on him sounds heaven to him. You and Clive continued your hot lovemaking until you're filled up with his cum. After all, he is yours and only yours. You're very happy to be with him. You don't need to worried about Barnabas anymore. You can enjoy your peaceful life with your knight. You snuggled with Clive, kissing him before closing your eyes. Immediately falling to slumber, smiling to yourself. No one can stop you from loving your hero.

The end ❤️‍🔥

[vounnasi]

i know sybil was more intent on saving red, but-

[mikkeneko]

Running List Of Name(element)s MXTX Keeps Recycling In Every Book, So It's Fine For Me To Assign Them To Basically Any New Character In An MXTX Fanwork:

-qing (half the cast of SVSSS, Wen Qing, Shi Qingxuan, Mu Qing, Mei Nianqing) -xuan (He Xuan, Shi Qingxuan, Jin Zixuan, Xuan Ji) -ming (Ming Fan, Ming Yi, Nie Mingjue, Pei Ming) -yuan (Wen Yuan, Shen Yuan, Yue Qingyuan) -ying (Ning Yingying, Wei Ying, Lang Ying) -ning (Ning Yingying, Wen Ning) -hua (Hua Cheng, Shang Qinghua, Sha Hualing)

some of these are not the same intonation or character as the others but then again a lot of them are. i think i checked and Ning (peaceful) Yingying (infant) could literally be the love child of Wei Ying (infant) and Wen Ning (peace).

[csms-jpg]

There is nothing in the world that is not imaginal

[moonybadger]

(slight spoilers for ISAT, but just broad stuff no details)

I can't tell if it's because I'm a biased super fan of In Stars and Time or if it's just because due to work I had to space my playthrough of it out over the course of a week or so, but I keep reading reviews that say "wow this is really good but it does have a repetitive section later on in the game, so I'll understand if you can't deal with that!!" and every time I see it I'm just like???? I have no idea what section anyone is talking about????

I don't think I found the game repetitive at any stage. I might have just gotten lucky on that last "guess which route you need to take" section, but even then I went back and double checked the other passages just cause I was curious about what was there. Which you're rewarded for doing, like the extra good scene you get with Bonnie for checking the book and you do need to get into the astronomy room in the story ANYWAY so you gotta know it's there. And I'm a chronic dialogue hunter so every loop through I'd still double check everything for A) New dialogue, usually from Siffrin, which the game was very good about rewarding me for and B) because I kept trying to trigger that scene that's in the prologue where if you act weird enough your friends will confront you about it (I never did trigger this, but I read somewhere that you can if you also check the wishology and timeology craft books in the same loop?). And this is coming from someone who did a full run with everyone's personal quests done like. Three times. And I hardly ever fast forwarded until near the very end of playthrough and unless something was on the third floor I would just go in through the front door on most loops. So I gotta politely disagree with reviews saying some parts of it get repetitive!