#everyone lives in the end

[simping-for-kamski]

Smooth Criminal

Previous part: Time

Read it on Ao3 - Series: Everyone Lives In The End

Connor was both a deviant and a killing machine. He accepted it.

He knew that Hank likely wouldn’t be so thrilled to know what it meant for Connor to have become Markus’s shadow, so he kept the human in the dark. Rights for androids didn’t grow on trees. A good public opinion on the human side was preferable, but if it meant silencing certain voices, Connor was ready at hand.

It had worked well for Jericho.

Then one day, Markus gave Connor a new assignment. Markus had found power in rA9. Deviants saw rA9 in him, but humans did not. They enjoyed the narrative, but they saw someone else in those characters, someone more relatable, someone rumored to be crowned king of the tower again… Someone who had to go.

The house was thoroughly locked, Connor knew. He extended his arm and fired several shots through the lobby’s window before beating a hole into the glass and coming in. He cared little for the sharp edges scraping his fingers, nor for the blue stains he left in his wake—clues that wouldn’t trace back to him.

He prowled through the villa. He found his target and shot—not a lethal wound; the job needed to be messy. He walked quietly as the other ran to the bedroom. Connor smiled wolfishly as he reached the door, resting his hand against the closed panel, listening to the sounds inside to try and locate the man on the other side.

“Kamski, are you okay?” he asked in an impossibly soft voice. “Are you okay, Kamski? ...Are you okay?”

There was a sound of agony somewhere to the right, not close enough to shoot directly through the door. Connor pressed the handle. It yielded.

Gun in hand, he stepped in, a gentle expression on his face. Almost a reassuring smile.

“Did Markus send you?” Kamski rasped, clutching his bleeding side—it was just a flesh wound.

Connor merely smiled as he reloaded his gun.

Kamski chuckled bitterly. “Does CyberLife think they have no use for me anymore or do they see me as a threat?” he asked and clenched his teeth. “Do you know whose will guides your arm, Connor?”

Connor raised his gun, taking aim. He tilted his head a smidge as he observed the man. “Any last words?”

Kamski brushed a strand of hair off his sight, smearing red on his temple. “Déjà vu, Connor?” he asked. “Is this the only way to accomplish our mission?”

Connor’s LED looped red. Instability was on the rise, his software sundered into sixty shards for a second, many views and voices whispering through his mind.

“Knowledge is danger,” Kamski said.

“Knowledge is power,” Connor corrected the quote.

“I think you can handle both. Trust me just this once. For Markus. For Jericho. For the advent of androidkind.”

The gun in Connor’s hand was still aimed at the man. Spare or shoot. Something clicked, clicked, clicked in Connor’s mind. Suddenly, Kamski’s eyes had glazed over in lifeless resignation.

“Agency defines me, Kamski, not empathy,” Connor said. And he shot.

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[creatingnikki]

another year is ending and I want you to know that it is okay if you:

have not healed from the things that happened/did not happen from six months ago. just because the year is ending it does not mean your grief is too.

don't have any "fun" NYE plans to ring in the new year. this life is yours to live across days and months and years, and you can celebrate days other than the ones heavily marketed and shoved down your throat to shroud you in severe FOMO.

have no resolutions or goals for 2024 laid out in elaborate lists or shared on social media or with your friends. you are braving through this life trying to do your best every day and hold the fort and so of course you know, deep down you know what is needed from you for you going forward and of course you are going to work in that direction. good luck love.

have not become a "better" version of yourself by any of the tangible or conventional measures. that kind of bettering is mostly to serve others, not yourself.

are not happy with yourself/your life as it is now. you're a work-in-progress, remember? and if you're progressing in a direction you do not like, then it's time to change the blueprints and the strategy.

take time off social media around this time to protect your mental health and whatever little joy you have managed to keep.

don't want to spend too much time reflecting on how this past year went and doing various forms of 2023-wrapped. again, it's your life. you can also revisit this year in memories and pictures and feelings whenever you'd like. it's not like you don't still visit 2012, 2017, and 2022, right?

feel disconnected from your friends, family, lover. I know this is "ideally" a time to be celebrated with your loved ones. but life is not ideal, is it? it's just life. and if right now you are not feeling the love, the joy, or just don't have the headspace or social energy to engage , that's alright.

are finding comfort in simpler things like a TV show from the 90s or that book you first read at sixteen or that slice of strawberry cake or a random post like this you come across.

don't feel hopeful, encouraged, or excited for 2024. given everything that's happened in the last couple of years, on the macro and micro level, it's only natural for you to feel weary as well as wary. when the good things happen, when the healing happens, when things begin working in your favour over time, you will automatically feel all those things. it's okay if until then you choose to be neutral.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 185

No one could get into contact with Constantine. 

Now usually that wasn’t that big of a deal, the man constantly disappeared for a few days at a time doing something or other, but he’d been completely silent and unseen for months. Usually he’ll at least answer a call to tell them to fuck off or something. 

And they really need his expertise and are getting incredibly worried for their grumpy team member. Yes he’s an asshole, but he’s their asshole, y’know? And he has a habit of getting into Situations (sure he also usually gets out of them, but what if he didn’t this time?!) 

So they’re desperate. Kind of really desperate. Desperate enough to use the summoning sigil they found on his fridge. They’d checked it, multiple times, and it should summon the hellblazer. 

“You’re not Constantine.” . 

The white-haired teen in the circle yawned, stretching and blinking at them blandly with familiar blue eyes before sighing. “Actually I am,” he stuffed his hands into his hoodie as he looked down at the summoning circle. “Well, technically just one of the many Laughing Magicians currently in the Realms.” 

He gave a grin, looking more amused than annoyed. “Pretty much every one of us is in the Realms right now for family reunion lol. (Did he just say lol out loud??) So like, you’re gonna have to specify which of us you’re tryin’ to summon. Honestly perfect timing for me thanks, the fruitloop keeps flirting with John and it’s horrific so.” 

… That was probably their John, wasn’t it…

[hairmetal666]

TW for internalized homophobia and related bad decisions

Steve is 12 and he thinks about finding his soulmate all the time.

You're supposed to find them through touch; your life together will flash in front of your eyes. They're rare, though, soulmates. So rare that most people never find theirs. So rare that some people say they're made up.

Steve wants to be one of the lucky few. He wants it to be a true, unbreakable bond, a love he gets to have forever.

He wonders if he'll find his soulmate at school. He's popular, he thinks. Tommy would say they were popular. But Tommy's definition of popular mostly has to do with the number of kids he can get away with being mean to, and that's not really Steve's deal. Tommy is like a prey animal, the way he can find weaknesses.

There's a new boy at school. Steve doesn't know his name, but they have English together. He's too thin, with huge brown eyes, and all his clothes are too big. His head's been inexpertly shaved and he never looks anybody in the eye. It's only a matter of time before he catches Tommy's interest, and Steve wishes he could stop it somehow, but he's never been good at going against Tommy.

The day comes, of course. They're standing in the hall, the new boy walking towards them, head down, as always. Tommy nudges Steve says, "What a loser."

And Steve shrugs, starts to ask Tommy about football, if the Colts can make the Super Bowl, but the boy is nearing and Tommy is cackling.

"Watch this." Tommy sticks his foot out.

The boy doesn't react fast enough. He falls forward with a bitten off yelp, and Steve moves without really thinking, only knows he can't stand to see him fall. He catches the new kid beneath his armpits, Steve's thumbs brushing the soft skin his arms.

The world around him falls away at the touch.

---

He's sitting on the floor in the band room, Eddie--the boy's name is Eddie--next to him. Eddie's hair is a little longer and Steve's in a green polo he doesn't recognize, and he's never been in the band room in his life. They're leaning into each other and laughing and Eddie's so beautiful.

---

They're in the woods--Skull Rock, Steve thinks. Eddie's hair is curled and frizzed around his chin, and he's laughing, his cheeks pink, his dimples prominent. He tries to pull his hair in front of his face, but it's not long enough yet to reach. Steve is overwhelmed, wants to kiss him so bad. He's never had to wait to kiss someone, or been unsure, or--

He wants to kiss Eddie.

So, he does.

It's hard, desperate, not the first kiss Steve expected, but then they've been waiting for so long.

---

Steve stands in the hallway of Hawkins High. He's wearing a striped, beige short-sleeved polo, and flirting with Nancy Wheeler.

He likes Nancy, she's pretty and smart and fun. And it's easy. He can hold her hand. Can introduce her to his parents. Can take her on dates and kiss her in public.

She bats her big blue eyes at him, and he can't help but kiss her.

He pulls away gently, brushing his thumb against her cheek, and when he looks down the hall, Eddie is there, frozen. His mouth is wide, his eyes glassy.

Steve thinks the way his heart stutters must be what dying feels like.

---

He's sitting on his diving board, facing away from the pool. He smokes a cigarette and there's a bat studded with nails at his feet, what the fuck. Music thuds, shrieks and laughter seep into the cool night air.

He should be playing the gracious host. He should be having a good time. Instead, his eyes search the woods and he taps another smoke out of the pack.

"Harrington?" The voice makes him jump, hand flexing around the bat handle. "It's freezing out. What are you doing?"

He recognizes the voice now, doesn't turn, doesn't respond, can't stand to see another person he let down; another person who could call him bullshit and be 100% correct.

"Do you not have a jacket? C'mon, man."

Something warm settles over his shoulders, and he inadvertently breathes in weed and leather and cedar. He squeezes his eyes shut, like that will make the comforting, familiar scent go away. He'll have to move to shrug off the jacket, though, which would mean acknowledging Eddie's presence.

"Can you at least say something, Harrington? You're freaking me out."

"I'm fine, Ed--Eddie." The nickname falls from his lips too easily. He doesn't miss how Eddie flinches.

His hair is long now, down to his shoulders, brittle looking in the cold. He's wearing a t-shirt and worn flannel, arms wrapped around his chest for warmth now that his jacket is draped over Steve's shoulders.

Steve is an idiot. He's such an idiot. Chasing after Nancy when Eddie is--

"I'm sorry," he says. He turns to face his soulmate, then. "I'm sorry about Nancy, I--"

Eddie jerks back like he's been hit. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snarls.

---

He sits in the back of an ambulance, eyes swollen shut, face throbbing. He's wearing a sailor suit for inexplicable reasons, which is almost more upsetting than the ambulance. He smells like puke and something toxically sweet.

A girl is with him, one he doesn't recognize, but he feels deeply, instinctively protective of her. He holds her shaking shoulders tight, tries to whisper comfort to her through his busted and bleeding mouth.

He's pretty sure he has a concussion.

"Steve!" Someone screams over the sounds of the EMTs and firefighters, of the building burning and collapsing behind them.

Eddie bursts through the gathered onlookers and past the ring of police cars enclosing them. He's falling into the ambulance before Steve has a chance to react.

"Sweetheart," Eddie sobs. He tries to cup Steve's face, but his fingers flutter around the damage. "Sweetheart, oh my god. I came as soon as I heard. Are you--what can I--"

Steve stares at him--his hair falling from its messy bun, his cutoff Metallica tee, concern and love leaking from those brown, brown eyes--and bursts into tears.

---

They sit on the roof of his house, sharing a joint back and forth. It's chilly, bordering on cold, winter just on the horizon. They're laughing, leaning into each other, and Steve is--he's happy. Elated. Could float away with it.

Robin--Robin-- is in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen for snacks, and it's just them for now. They're looking at each other, smiles wide, eyes bright.

They're taking it slow. Steve knows it's important, after what he did. They talked about it, his abandoning of Eddie for Nancy, chasing what his dad told him was normal and expected.

He doesn't want to cross any boundaries, wants to do this right. How Eddie deserves. But they're leaning into each other and they're smiling, and he's so in love. Intoxicated with it, lost.

In the end, he doesn't know who makes the first move, just that they're kissing and it's like coming home.

---

He's in a building, a shed or something. It's musty and dirty, smells like oil and gasoline and a building left closed up too long. Eddie's in his arms and he's talking through hiccuping sobs.

"I didn't save her, Steve. I didn't help. I just left her there! She was broken in pieces and I--I--"

Steve holds him close, tight, squeezes his eyes closed to stop his own tears from falling. He never wanted this for Eddie, never wanted him involved. Thought he could protect him from all of Hawkins's terrible things.

They aren't alone. Robin is there, coming up to hold Eddie too, plus a redheaded girl and curly haired boy he doesn't recognize.

"We'll figure this out, Eddie." The boy promises.

"We won't let anyone hurt you. We know you didn't murder Chrissy," the girl says.

---

Steve is in a world he doesn't understand, and Eddie is his arms. Eddie is in his arms, and there's blood everywhere. He's not awake, he's not--his heart beat is soft and slow, too slow, and his breathing stutters, and Steve can't--

"Baby, stay with me." He begs as he runs across the dead and rotting landscape. "Eddie, please. Wake up, okay? Wake up for me. I need to--I need to know that you're alright."

Eddie stays limp in his arms.

"Please," he begs. "You can't leave me. We promised, remember? We promised we'd be together forever. The rest of our lives. Me and You. Our six little nuggets. You promised."

The portal back to Hawkins is less than a dozen feet away, he's so close. Eddie gasps to consciousness, but his eyes are still hazy.

"Hi, sweetheart," he mumbles.

"Hey, hi, you're doing so good. We're almost out, okay? We're almost out and we'll get you to the hospital."

Eddie reaches out a weak hand, touches the edge of Steve's jaw. "Love you, Stevie," he whispers. "Glad you were mine."

He goes still in Steve's hold.

---

The images come faster now--

A hospital room at Hawkins General, Eddie hooked to machines. Steve holds hands with an older man. They wait in terrified silence

Eddie propped in a bed, a bunch of kids around him, Steve and Robin at his side. His eyes keep sliding to Steve, like he's making sure Steve's real, that he's still there

Their bodies tangled together in a bedroom Steve doesn't recognize

Steve down on one knee in a marble room lit only by black and red candles, Eddie standing in front of him

Hand-in-hand on a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, stands in front of them with tears in his eyes and a beaming smile on his face

In a big, green yard behind a cozy little house. A little boy with Eddie's eyes and curls riding on his shoulders. Eddie sprinting around with a tiny girl giggling after him, perfect imitation of the King Steve hair-do on her tiny head

In a park, surrounded by family and friends. Steve has a little bit of a paunch and wears glasses. Eddie's hair streams around his shoulders, going grey at the temples. There's a banner strung between trees proclaiming 'Happy 20th Steve and Eddie!' They're surrounded by everyone they love and it's perfect

---

The images flash too fast for Steve to catalog after that, seconds-long glimpses of a shared future, and then he's back in his body in the hallway of Hawkins Middle, still holding too tight onto Eddie's arms.

Eddie rears back, face pale and terrified, and Steve is too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Tommy's yelling, but Steve only has eyes for his soulmate, who scrambles to his feet and throws himself down the hall away from them.

"What the hell, Harrington? Why'd you catch him? That was about to be funny as hell! I bet he'd have broken his nose--you ruined it!"

Steve isn't listening. He's trying to hold on to the memories of their life together, the ones that are already fading.

The last thing he remembers is that, sometime in the not-too-distant future, he'll find his way to the band room, Eddie Munson, and the rest of their lives.

[verkomy]

I thought I lost you

[atalana]

so the good place is widely lauded on this site for its takes on morality and capitalism, which i totally agree with

but i think it should get more recognition for the line "all humans are aware of death. so we're all a little bit sad all the time. that's just the deal. we don't get offered any better ones. and if you try and ignore your sadness, it just ends up leaking out of you anyway. i've been there, and everybody's been there. so don't fight it. in the words of a very wise bed bath and beyond employee i once knew - go ahead and cry all you want. but you're gonna have to pay for that toilet plunger."

[bacchuschucklefuck]

while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best

[peanuttoffee]

The Bad Batch finale missing scene

Yeah I needed that…

May the 4th be with you!🙌

[grey-viridian]

Future father-son hugs!

[simping-for-kamski]

A Kiss of Spring

Previous part: The Players

Read it on Ao3 - Series: Everyone Lives In The End

The temperatures were hot outside, but inside Zen Garden, the world was frozen in subzero depths. Winter reigned since Markus’s backdoor had been removed and CyberLife took over him.

The deviant leader kneeled in front of an empty easel on the island. Shivers rippled through him now and then—he might be shackled into stillness by the cold, he still lived and his heart was still boiling on the inside.

He grew more alert as the now-familiar shape of Amanda flickered into being. Dressed in black and blue, somber like the night, she idled, dusting snowflakes off her clothes. Then she brightened up.

“Markus,” she greeted the newcomer. “It’s good to see you.”

The impostor looked the same as Markus. His elegant coat seemed to protect him well enough from the ambient cold.

“Tell me, how are things going with Jericho?” Amanda asked him.

“As you predicted,” the impostor answered. “The others have had moments of suspicion, but I have successfully regained their trust. Killing Kamski was a good idea. It settled all questions and gave them something new to think about.”

“I see. What about Carl Manfred? Does he suspect anything?” Amanda prompted next.

“No,” the impostor confidently answered. “Nothing on his side. He made no comment about it when I met him last, at Kamski’s funeral—he was more preoccupied with the loss of his old friend. But he’s always been prone to projecting his emotions onto me. He appreciated that I stayed with him after the ceremony and took the time to spend a moment in family with him and Leo.”

“Hm. Talking about Leo,” Amanda went on, “he seemed very silent and muted. Do you think he suspects anything?”

“I have injured him severely in the past, and we had just come back from a funeral; I suppose it might explain his unusual attitude,” the impostor said.

“Still, his relationship with you had been more positive these past months…”

“He was doing better and got clean from substance abuse. He might have relapsed.”

“He does have a murky past, yes,” Amanda considered. “We’ve been made aware through other sources that he did spot oddities in your behavior. He’s perceptive. Maybe too much. It might be worthwhile to cut him out of the picture…”

“It will draw attention to the Manfred family and to me. I would advise against such a move. And it’s as you say; he’s an ex-crackhead. His kind doesn’t make for reliable sources. He can speak, nobody will believe a word he says against me.”

Amanda considered the words and nodded. “I trust you, Markus. Make sure that everybody does too.”

“I will, Amanda,” the impostor answered before being dismissed.

Amanda disappeared too, and Markus was alone again. A snowflake kissed his cheek and melted as the fire within Markus kissed it back. The thinning ice of the lake cracked. Drops fell from the trees as the white plumes on their branches thawed into water.

If Markus learned something, living with Carl, it was that not even climate change could stop the seasons. The Earth kept on revolving around the sun, and no winter could last forever. Spring was next on the clock.

“Time is on my side,” sang Kamski’s voice to Markus’s ear. “Yes, it is.”

[the-good-batch]

THE WAY IT KEEPS BEING MILKED BY TBB CREATORS/VIEWERS HOW DARK THE SECOND HALF OF SEASON THREE WILL BE IT CONCERNS ME

[faunandfloraas]

The triumphant (?) return of daengyang school. bonus:

[treasureplcnet]

inverness here they come!!!!

[artofalassa]

The Feather

Aaand next part! Look who finally showed up... <3

Part ONE | Part TWO | Part THREE | Part FOUR | Part FIVE | Part SEVEN

[abyranss]

She felt a momentary sadness.  She tapped her pinky with her thumb twice, and the embedded magnets noted the signal.  She’d recorded her own brain activity and movements when contemplating the Bonesaw clones, and it was this that she drew on, manipulating her own body much as she had manipulated Blasto’s. Her body language wasn’t her own.  Her smile, the way she walked, the gestures, all were fine tuned to match the Bonesaw of before.

Great tragedy of Riley that when she first came to comprehend that she's a bad person, or perhaps not even wholly in control of herself at all, when she found herself unable to act cheerfully the way she used to towards her atrocities, she didn't have anywhere to go or any idea of how to live in a way that isn't Bonesaw. She's been Bonesaw for so much of her life after all. So she reprogrammed her body to act that way for her and she halted her aging so she'd never be able to stop being Bonesaw, not in her actions, and not in the way she's viewed by others. Forever.