#i love angst and i will not apologize

[bitchesofostwick]

wip wednesday

i've been torn away from HB for a moment to write about june and gale...oh no... (tagging @vakarians-babe @pinayelf @isayashai @captastra @vvakarians)

***

“I could give you all of this,” he presses, taking her hands in his with a fire in his eyes. “I could be so much more. And not just for me—for us. For all mortals. We could have what we want, what we deserve! And I would be the one to do it. Don’t you want that?” 

Enough. She rips her hands away from his, hardly recognizing the man before her. “No,” she says, stepping back. “I don’t want this.”

“But—”

“Gale!” she shouts, not letting him continue, not this time. “I have never wanted any of this from you. I’ve tried to tell you. I’ve tried to show you. All of this—” she waves her hand, gesturing at the fabricated stardust around them. “It’s nothing like what I want. And you might know that, if you ever listened to me—if you believed me. I’d never ask this of you. But—but perhaps you’ve confused me with someone else.”

[hinamie]

spiraling

[triona-tribblescore]

TW// Abuse implication

Thinking about possible Vox and Angel's interactions and how they'd go down. Theres such a unique mix of hatred to each other and common ground with their different experiences with Valentino, has me thinking.

Also just want to clarify I love Vox's character a LOT but ofc obv don't sympathise with him or think he is any way shape or form a decent individual, cant with stupid toxic dumbass x

AND IF YOU SEE ANY MISTAKES OR TYPOS NO YOU DONT- (i was so tired when drawing it forgive me TwT)

[theminecraftbee]

today i am thinking about the entire mayor of hypixel skyblock incident with technoblade because i still like to imagine, since it happened during one of the big dsmp story gaps, that he was like "oh i'm going to head off for a bit phil don't worry about it" and phil's like "bye mate" and ranboo is like "i wonder what he's doing. probably intense training or something. he's so cool."

meanwhile techno is yelling at an entirely unruly crowd about anarchy and being made mayor while beating up like, it was a weird giant slime if i remember right? and he has a whole "bond of rivals" moment with squidkid, like, they have this whole "there's no one i could trust to have my back more... than you... my most favored enemy" thing going on in that video it's SO funny.

all of this with the world's most absurd numbers outputs because hypixel skyblock is an endgame mmo. just COMICAL levels of firepower. like, everyone is an end-of-series shonen character. this place is like the naruto world was after it had jumped the shark a bit and there was a moon goddess attacking. about like that.

and then he's like. my work here is done. thanks for electing me mayor. i don't see this is contradictory to my anarchy at all btw it's like, a symbolic thing, on account of me beating up the old dictator mayor. and just dips again, presumably to be forever seen as a weird potato-themed legend around those parts.

i like to imagine he gets home and phil is like "hi mate" and techno's like "sorry i had things to handle at home" and ranboo is imagining like, WILD battles and what technoblade's home must even be like. and whatever he's imagining doesn't really compare to "technoblade's home is an end-game mmo no wonder he constantly assumes he's weak here he can only do earlygame levels of damage, forever".

and technoblade, being technoblade, says nothing about being mayor of hypixel now, until like, after the finale or something when squidkid just sort of swings by to ask how they're all doing after that nuke thing, huh. and everyone loses their shit.

and this is one of my favorite stupid technoblade headcanons thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[fcthots]

Can I request 27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?" with an angsty dash of 5. "You don't have anything to be sorry for." please?

You shouldn't have been out.

You should have never left your apartment, especially not in the middle of the night, especially when Jason didn't know you left, but you just wanted to go on a short walk, but one wrong turn turned your short walk into a very long one.

You could hear a few things: the beating of your heart, the sound of your feet hitting the ground as you ran, the sound of their feet running after you, shouting from behind you.

"Get your ass back here or I swear to God, we're gonna fucking kill you!"

Fuck. You just had to go on a walk to clear your head. You just had to get lost. You just had to forget your phone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were running so hard you could barely breathe. You were faster than them, but not by much, and you couldn't keep it up. You were terrified, shaking, slightly crying. You tried screaming, but no one came. You were lost, alone, scared, and being chased. You wished more than anything that you never left your apartment. You wished you just called Jason to calm down, but you didn’t want to bother him. Regret. Regret. Regret.

You've basically run in one big circle, trying to get anywhere near your apartment, but you were so lost. That street sign, though was familiar, but more than that you had passed it before; something else.

Oh.

Oh no.

You knew the name on that street sign because Jason was telling you about it earlier

...in reference to a trafficking case.

Your heart sank. Their footfalls match the erratic beating of your heart. You were tired. You couldn't keep this up forever and they knew the territory. It seemed you were at every disadvantage.

You turned a corner. You had this one chance to lose them. You use all of your remaining energy to run into the gap between the closed down corner store and apartment complex,

and promptly trip on the uneven concrete. Yeah, you pulled something.

And with your absolutely stellar luck, you picked the one alley that was a dead end.

"Fucking finally. Nowhere to run now. I think we should take our time with this one. She made us waste all that time chasing her, what's a little more?"

You open your mouth to beg for your life, but the words won't come out. You try to get up but you collapse again. You use your good leg to move yourself against the wall.

The three men laugh as they slowly approach you, taunting you. They smile and joke at the tears you didn’t notice were falling. You try to think of any possible escape route, but come up empty. One pulls out a gun and you try not to look at it.

"You really thought you could just run away, huh?"

"You can scream as loud as you want. No one is coming."

The third man laughs. "Don't say that. The screaming is fucking annoying."

They get closer to you and you feel the sweat trickle from your hairline.

Everyone's heads turn when there's a loud thud outside the alley.

You aren't exactly focused on it, but it makes them temporarily stop, so you're thankful for it.

"Marcus, go check it out."

"Fuck you. Why do I have to it?"

"Be louder, why don’t you? Quit being a bitch and go."

'Marcus' leaves with a string of curses. The attention is turned back to you again, with impatient smiles and twisted laughter, but not for long.

They make it about two more steps before Marcus yells and there's a crunch and thud.

The two men stop dead in their tracks. Communicating as if with eye contact, one nods, and the other begins to walk slowly along the wall of the alley with his gun raised until he turns the corner. While the first man tries to split his attention between you and his friend, his friend screams.

The last man turns towards you. He rushes forward in an attempt to grab your arm, presumably to drag you, but he never gets that chance.

There is a loud thunk to the back of the man's head before he's on the floor. You look up and see a red helmet.

You don’t think you've ever been happier to see that shiny red.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. You're safe now."

You try to say his name as he rushes over to you but it comes out as more of a pathetic and terrified whimper.

"Are you hurt?"

You nod your head and watch him freeze.

"Where?"

You drag your leg out from underneath you. He sighs in relief. His shoulders hunch forward, his forehead knocking against yours. He lands a helmet kiss there.

"C'mon. Let's get you home. I'm going to carry you, okay?"

Before you could even think about attempting to reply, he has you scooped up in his arms. He takes a deep breath in and out and locks eyes with you.

"You ok?"

"no fatal injuries"

He hums in acknowledgement. The walk is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t remember most of the walk. The adrenaline wearing off was making you tired, but Jason's silence concerned you. You shouldn't have gone out alone, it was dumb, but you couldn't handle a fight with Jason right now. That's probably why he was being quiet, he’s mad at you, but knows you don’t wanna fight. He was being so sweet, but to be honest all you wanted was comfort. You can't take him being distant right now.

Fuck it. You can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry."

He stops on the outside of you apartment complex's elevator, moving to look at you.

You open your mouth to speak again but he cuts you off. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Aren't you mad?"

"I could never be mad at you."

"But you're being all silent."

"I thought you'd want space. Do you not?"

"...no... I want comfort..."

"Alright. And I'm not mad at you. Never mad at you. That wasn't your fault, ok? I was brooding just now because I was scared at the thought of losing you. I love you. So much."

"I love you too."

[pit-and-the-pen]

Unrequited Love

A/N: I had to get to the airport to return a rental car like 5 hours early so I’m so sorry for the pure amount that I’ve been posting today but as a socially awkward girly, if I’m on my own phone then for sure no one is going to talk to me.

Anywho here is some angsty angst about day court!reader and Azriel.

Part 2: Here Alt Ending: Here Part 3: Here

Forgive any typos I wrote this on my phone.

Warnings: none

WC-1.4K

————————————————————————

My blood was boiling beneath my skin. Azriel has been complaining for the better part of an hour about Rhys gag order regarding Elain. I was trying not to roll my eyes as I had reached my wits end with his lamenting.

“I just don’t understand why he needs to meddle in this. I get she’s Feyre's sister but he doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. “I just can’t help but think that sometimes the cauldron gets it wrong.”

His words were spoken so plainly. Anger wanes for a second as I swear I could feel my heart break inside my chest. The words seemed to echo in my head Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. I almost would have rather had him carve out my heart with truth teller.

“What do you think?” He asks me and I sit reeling over his words. I can’t think of anything to say to him. The comforting words I would normally have for him can’t get past the anger starting to cloud my vision. So I simply shrug, avoiding the question. Desperately trying to change the subject.

“So this new book I’m reading…”

“Oh c’mon.” He interrupts me. “I know you have something to say. And I trust your advice more than anyone else. There isn’t anyone else I would rather talk to about this.” His eyes softened as he looked towards me. Instead of melting under his gaze like I normally do, red bites at the edge of my vision.

“I think you should leave her the hel alone.” My tone is not gentle. He freezes.

“What?”

“She has a mate already. And regardless of if you think the cauldron got it right. Lucien is the one mated to Elain,” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “And Lucien is a wonderful male who has been through a lot of shit. He deserves someone as sweet as Elain, if she ever comes around. You should stop meddling.”

His mouth opens, when no words come out, he closes it again. You see the muscles in his jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.

“What has gotten into you? When did you become Lucien’s spokesperson?” He spits at me. His face starts to get closer to mine as he leans over the table, slowly starting to rise to his feet.

The sane part of me is telling me to stand down. That one of the most powerful warriors in all of Prythian was starting to get angry at me. My mate was starting to get mad at me. But I would not cave under his intimidation.

“I became his spokesperson when you showed no respect for him. Or for Elain.” I noticed I was starting to get to my feet. “What about what she wants? She doesn’t owe you anything more than she owes Lucien. Rhys told you to stay away from a girl you feel entitled to and now you want to mope like a petulant teenager. Grow up Azriel.” He flinches before something stoney sets in his eyes.

“At least I’ve actually told her how I felt. What about you?” My stomach drops into my knees. “Sitting and pining over the same person for a century.”

“You knew?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper. This was not happening. I should have left when I had the chance.

“It’s not like you tried to hide it. I thought at some point you would get the hint that it wasn’t going to happen but yet there you always were trailing behind me like a sad little puppy.”

My hands on the table started to glow faintly. My anger was finally breaking through the surface.

“You asshole. You stupid Illyrian bastard.” The smirk that graced his face fell instantly. “After everything that I’ve done for you, you want to use my feelings for you as some fucking weapon against me.”

Even I was surprised at the venom in my words but I was on a roll. “I sat by for five hundred years. I sat by as you pined over Mor, someone I consider my sister. I felt that bond go unreturned.” He completely froze at my words. Words I have never spoken out loud to anyone.

“Wait-“

“No. You get to hear this shadowslinger.” I pressed my finger to his chest and he stepped back like I had hit him. A small part of me wishes I had. But this. This right here is why Rhys kept me around. I didn’t need to throw a punch to put someone on their knees.

“I followed you around like a lost puppy and you loved it. Every second of it. I was stupid enough at some point to believe that it was because you felt it too. And I couldn’t get away from those feelings,could get away from you. Every time I tried I would damn near drive myself crazy and then you would smile or say some funny joke and I was right back to where I started.” I willed the slight shake in my voice to disappear. “You just wanted to feel important because the one you truly loved wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Took other males into her bed, but not you right? So why not go for the next available thing. Me. Who cares if I got hurt? Who cares that I still fucking loved you through all of it? Not you clearly. You played me like a fucking fiddle and I played my part well.”

When I finally looked back up at his face I saw nothing but a shell of the male that stood in front of me. Even his shadows had retreated from his side. Looking down I realized they were sitting at my feet. I pushed down the glimmer of something I didn’t have time to think about at the sight.

“Please. Just stop.” He pleaded.

“Why? Because it hurts to hear? Fuck you. “And you think that didn’t hurt me too?” I watched him pale. “You didn’t think it killed me to feel that empty weight in my chest every time I looked at you. Everyday that I waited and wished that you would feel that stupid bond I’ve had to live with for the last two centuries.”

He gasped at my words cutting me off

“You never told me about that. I just thought it was… I don’t know… I thought it was a crush like how I felt with Mor”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “I shouldn’t have had to! The whole point is that you feel it too. Bonds aren’t supposed to be one sided but for some gods unknown reason, you didn’t,” I felt the anger really starting to boil over.

“Every time I heard you rambling on and on about how perfect Mor was, about the females you took into your bed. I sat by all of it, for what? Three sisters for three brothers?!” I was screaming now, my hands shaking by my side

“What happens when she’s all fixed up too Azriel? When she feels this same thing I feel when she looks at Lucien. Onto the next one for me to hear about I guess . Always on the sidelines. Always the sweet face to come back to at the end of the day but never the one you want to be with.” I took a deep breath for the words about to come out of my mouth, steeling my nerves.

“I’m done. With this. With you. Fuck this entire gods damned city. I will not sit by and play second to whoever you deem worthy enough for the rest of my life.”

He held up his hand like he was going to reach up for me but the light that was glowing off my skin was warning enough.

“Where will you go?” Was all he had the nerve to say.

I let out a cold, twisted laugh. “Anywhere but here. Hel I could finally go home. Helion has

been asking me to come back for years now. All I know it will be somewhere where you can’t come and ruin another half a century of my life. Because that’s what you did. I wasted all this time on someone I knew wouldn’t love me. But I can agree with you on something, Azriel.” I paused long enough to see the hope in his eyes as he whispered “what?”

“That sometimes the cauldron does get it wrong.”

I walked out of that room with my head held high

[arunneronthird]

thinking about older supersons learning to deal with the consequences of bad writting who they became

also jon wears nightwing merch i will not be taking questions

[mikakuna]

thoughts about time travel shenanigans where robin jason and bruce are thrust into the future and find themselves on a rooftop during a stormy night? because listen.

they both find themselves on this random rooftop in gotham, but they're not alone because right in front of them is batman of this year and a man wearing a red helmet. this wouldn't have raised much of a concern-- they probably could've just asked the future bruce what happened and how to get home-- except this batman is more violent than jay or bruce anticipated. they watch, stunned, as this batman repeatedly rains his heavy fist down on the other man's face, chest, ribs, and wherever else he can reach.

they watch as the man with the red helmet struggles weakly, consciousness slowly leaving him, before they catch sight of his face in the crack of his hood. both jay and bruce realize at the same time who it is-- that this is future jason despite the hard lines and large ragged body so different from jay's own.

the realization hits right there-- that bruce is beating down on jason more violently than batman has handled any villain.

the bruce of the past feels it before he sees it-- his jay flinching away from him and his tiny hand ripping away from his cape in fear. bruce looks down at his son, his child, and sees the absolute terror in his eyes. after all, why wouldn't jay be so upset? didn't bruce promise never to lay a hand on him like so many adults in his young life already have? didn't bruce swear, crouched down in front of his little boy and gently holding his hands, that he would keep him safe now?

and yet as they stare at each other with horror-filled eyes, the jason of this time finally loses consciousness as his bruce drags him away by the cracks of his helmet, bloody knuckles pressed over his swollen eyelids.

bruce distantly remembers the way jay had shyly called him dad just two days ago. now, he stares as his sweet boy takes a trembling step back, tears threatening to spill down his wide eyes. bruce doesn't think he's hated himself more.

[justaz]

merlin being so overwhelmed by everything he’s been put under, crumbling under the weight of destiny and being pulled in so many different directions he’s being torn apart, going to the one person who can offer him the most comfort out of everyone, his best friend, his other half. arthur who doesn’t realize whats happening until he turns and sees merlin’s desolate expression and tear filled eyes. merlin going “i know you are king (or prince) and you refuse to call me your friend, but you are mine and i really, really need my friend right now.” and before arthur can manage a word, merlin is stumbling forward into arthur’s arms and pulling him into a desperate hug, muffling his sobs as best he can but arthur can still feel the tears soaking his shoulder. arthur not asking any questions and just wrapping his arms around merlin while he breaks down.

[reefs-camp-blog]

sally and percy were always each other’s constants, they became a bit more distant once percy found out he was a demigod, but they were still each others firsts

then estelle was born

percy loves estelle so much, so much it physically hurts

but he sees estelle and how happy she is, how she had a mom that doesnt work the night shift nearly every night and instead is home nearly all the time, and she has a dad that’s present and there and is safe and percy is so so happy that she has what he never did

but at the same time he knows thats the exact reason why it hurts

estelle has what percys wanted his whole life

and now estelle has the only thing percy had his whole life

being his mothers first and top priority

he knows why, he understands why, estelle is a baby and needs to be cared for constantly, and percys nearly 18 and doesnt need his mom all the time anymore

but it hurts because all the food is no longer blue, it hurts because he sees estelle grow up and get help, it hurts because he sees estelle with the life he always wanted, but knows he will never had

and it hurts because hes no longer his mother’s constant.

sally has paul now, she has paul to help her through her issues and she has a child that doesnt get expelled from every school shes been in

and percy has his family. but its not the same. annabeth has always been there, but she doesnt understand, thalia has been through the same childhood as percy but she doesnt know what its like to watch the bad go to good in the same household, grover has always listened but he just doesnt understand

because hes happy estelle has the life he always wanted. hes glad his mother has the life she always wanted. but hes not in that life. because hes moving out soon. and hes no longer his mothers son, at least not in the way he was before

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 05/08 // ‘Please Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want’ by The Smiths

wc: 2.2k // rating: M // cw: language, negative self talk // tags: YEARNING, post-s4 but vecna dies, eddie has some self-esteem issues, mild references to sexual content

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie isn’t sure when it started. When this… obsession took over his life. When he suddenly couldn’t think of anything but Steve Harrington.

It could have been when they started hanging out every day, the threat of otherworldly horrors gone and the Big Evil defeated. When they realised that while they don’t necessarily have much in common, they both care to learn about what the other likes.

It could have started before that, when Steve continually showed up to help him through his physical therapy, never wavering in his kindness despite how many times Eddie snapped in frustration or lashed out at him. Steve always took it in stride, but never patronised him. Or was it even before that? When Steve showed up everyday to his bedside in the hospital, at first appearing to just be chauffeuring Dustin, but then visiting on his own. Spending hours talking with him or letting the silence settle between them, filling the hours where Wayne couldn’t be there.

Shit, if Eddie really thought about it, it went further back than that too. Before Steve carried him out of hell and quite literally saved his life—though that alone was enough to make a guy swoon—and before the moment Eddie flirted with him in the RV (and really, what was he thinking with that?) and even before their little heart to heart in the aforementioned hell after the first bat attack.

No, if Eddie was honest with himself, it all went back to Steve’s surprise appearance in the boathouse, shoved up against the wall with a shard of glass pressed to his neck and fear in his eyes. Eddie remembers feeling Steve tremble as Eddie held tight to his jacket, watching as he swallowed, skin of his throat pressing against the glass. Eddie’s own hands shook around the broken bottle, from exertion and fear, and god help him he was not going down without a fight in that moment. Their all too literal colliding of worlds was not something he could have been prepared for, nevermind the fact that Eddie almost killed him. But it was that brief moment, so miniscule, right before Eddie let him go, that he realised Steve really wouldn’t hurt him. Despite being held up and almost having his throat slashed, Steve had dropped the oar.

It was the first hint he got that all those things Dustin had said about Steve were actually true. That all the ideas he’d previously had about Steve Harrington were undeniably false. And Eddie only continued to be proven wrong by the sheer magnitude of Steve’s kindness, his patience, his unending love for his friends. Which now, by some miracle, Eddie was a part of.

It had grown. Out of something that should have just been a trauma-bond that then dissolved once they were quote-unquote healed and realised they actually had nothing in common besides the shared experience of almost dying in an otherworldly dimension. It had grown into something much more than that, something that Eddie never really had before. He’d had friends before, sure, his little sheepies and his band mates, but nothing quite like this. It was both his fault and also not. When he arrived in middle school and was immediately bullied for daring to be a little bit different—despite the differences having more to do with his class status than anything he had truly picked at that time—the walls came up. People could get somewhat close to him, but ultimately Eddie decided just how much he would give to people, and arms length was always safest. They wouldn’t be able to hurt him at arms length.

And yet. Steve Harrington had somehow wormed himself past the walls, beyond the arms length barrier, and settled himself neatly within Eddie’s rib cage. Not only that, Steve brought along the rest of his little group, a family that knocked down Eddie’s walls and forged a space just for him. It went beyond the trauma bond. It had grown into something that almost felt like Steve cared about him. Actually, that wasn’t fair. Steve absolutely did care about Eddie. He’d shown it time and time again. Shown up and held tight and given his time and space and love, being the kind of best friend Eddie only dreamed of having.

And here he was, greedy. Desperately craving more. More of the connection, more of the love —platonic though it is—more of which he has already been given. Arguably he’s received far more than he ever thought he deserved (despite what his new friends might say). But Eddie can’t help it.

He wants. He craves.

He fucking aches for it.

It grips him in a chokehold, this desperation with which he begs to receive more. To have more. To be more. It wasn’t enough to have Steve’s friendship, Eddie wanted his whole heart. His whole soul, even. Every tiny speck of stardust that came together to create him, Eddie wanted it in his possession. Wanted it all to himself, to hoard like a dragon’s greatest treasure. To lock this man away and keep him safe and shower him with love and devotion every day for the rest of his life. He longed for it to the point of feeling more animal than man, a slave to his own desires. Helpless against his own hunger for a connection that would run bone deep between them, etched into his skull, woven into his blood. Eddie burned to fucking consume Steve Harrington and be consumed by him. To have their souls merge together in a supernova and, and, and…

And nothing. Because it would never happen. Not for Eddie, not the way that he wants it to. He reminds himself constantly that he should just be grateful to have the friendship, to cherish it for the special thing that it is. That guys like Steve Harrington didn’t want guys like Eddie Munson, at least not in that way. Not in the way Eddie wanted, because Eddie never got what he wanted.

Well, not never. But rarely. When he goes down this spiral, he struggles to remember times he has actually gotten what he wanted. In love, in romance? Never. Kisses—too fast, too hard, too scared—shared with boys who met him behind the bleachers and didn’t know what they wanted. Or rather, did know but wished they didn’t. Those that ended in the boys running away, or worse, threatening to hit him—to kill him—if Eddie dared to speak about what happened. Not that anyone would believe a jock would ever turn to Eddie The Freak Munson, even as an experiment. That’s all he ever was when he was younger, an experiment. It was all he thought he deserved, at least until he got a bit older and was able to venture out of Hawkins. Then came other stuff. Quick, filthy hookups in club bathrooms and dark alleyways in Indy. A stranger’s tongue in his mouth and their hands in each other’s pants and maybe their mouths on each other and the flash of a smile before leaving and he’d never see them again. It was fine. He got what he set out for in those moments, but nothing more. He never felt like he was owed more, never felt worthy of more, so why would anyone give him that? At least they didn’t end in threats of violence. At least he felt desired, somewhat. But, if given the chance, he’d trade all those experiences for one night of feeling like he was the prize, like he was the one worth fighting for, like someone wanted his heart.

And the craziest part was… sometimes he did feel that way. Sometimes Steve made him feel that way. Like Eddie was the most special person on the planet. Like no one else could draw his attention away. Like they were the only two people in the world. Like Steve could actually…

No. It wasn’t like that. Eddie had to remind himself endlessly. It wasn’t like that. This love wasn’t reserved just for Eddie, who watched Steve share it with all of them. When he picked up Dustin to take him wherever he wanted to go, despite the squabbling they shared. The way he and Robin seemed to read each other's minds, attached at the hip whenever possible. How he helped Max after she got out of the hospital, ready to drop everything at a second’s notice if she needed him. Spending afternoons training basketball with Lucas, giving him all of his tips and shining with pride at his skills.

Still… there was something. Something in the way Steve’s eyes lit up whenever Eddie arrived. Something in the way he was almost always too close, fingers brushing as beers were passed, arms and legs pressed against each other during movie nights, arms held tight when nightmares returned, and one glorious evening of warm cuddling and dreamless sleep after sharing a joint. Eddie lived in those moments, let them play on an endless loop in his mind, reading deep into each tiny interaction. Thinking about every smile sent his way and was it any different from the smiles anyone else got? God, he wanted to believe Steve had a special one just for him. One that was a little bit softer and sweeter and shyer.

The idea is nice, but it’s washed away by the cold reality of the fact that it would never happen. Even if, by some miracle, Steve was anything other than straight, why would he want Eddie? He could have anyone he wanted. And Eddie wouldn’t get what he wanted because that’s just how life was for him. Though he may beg and plead with invisible entities for it, though he might crave and ache to the point of feeling feral with it, though he might promise—swear on his life—to himself and anyone up there listening that he’d treat Steve so well if given the chance, Eddie knew it just wasn’t on the cards. The sooner he accepted that the better.

His resolve in place—forget about it, or at least bury it until it could be forgotten—Eddie makes his way up the driveway to the Harrington house. He wouldn’t think about it for the entirety of movie night. He absolutely would not.

“Hey, man!” Steve answers the door with a perfect smile and joy in his eyes. Eddie’s resolve wobbles. “Just in time.”

Eddie takes a moment to steel himself, firmly reminding himself of his goal, as he follows Steve into the house. And it lasts for all of two minutes before he’s pulled down onto the sofa, thigh pressed against Steve’s. Was there truly any reason for Eddie to be tortured this way? He tries to remember that Robin is on the other side of Steve, and that there’s limited room on the sofa but fucking hell… Their shoulders brush, the soft grazes through layers of fabric sending Eddie’s mind spinning, until Steve places his arm around behind Eddie on the sofa-back, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat of his skin. And god, this is so much worse. The desire to lean in and cuddle him, just nestle right in and have Steve’s arm around him, drives him crazy. The idea that they could… that this could be normal for them, domestic even. It went beyond the physical, Eddie wanted to take care of him. To show him the love Steve had so willingly given to him, and give it back ten-fold, hundred-fold. To create a life with him. To be proud of him and show him off and love him endlessly. To go to the ends of the earth to grant Steve his every wish, if he could just have one chance, he was begging—

Get it together! Eddie’s internal voice hisses at him, and he tries to shove all his thoughts back down into a vault, feeling a bit like trying to get water back into a broken hydrant. He does his best, managing to get it back down to a simmer, rather than a rapid boil.

Steve shifts slightly, suddenly a bit closer. It all comes rushing back. The warmth where their thighs are touching becomes burning hot and all the aching, craving, yearning, wanting that Eddie tried to shove down and out of his mind is suddenly front and centre and focused on the way Steve laughs and those glorious moles dotting down his neck. He feels insane with longing, desperate to press his lips to those moles, as if that could ever convey the depth of his feelings for the man beside him. Overcome with the need to drag his fingers through that beautiful hair and maybe even pull on it a little, just to see what kind of noise Steve makes, Eddie hears the tiny voice in his mind telling him off for staring. He just can’t seem to drag his eyes away. Steve throws his head back with a laugh, exposing his throat, and Eddie might as well perish right then and there, distraught with how much he wants to bite it. To just sink his teeth into the skin and feel Steve’s pulse beneath with his tongue. To leave bites and bruises all over his body, everywhere Eddie thinks is beautiful…

Before he can summon enough shame to look away, Steve catches his eye, and just grins, eyes lit up with that same brightness he always seems to have when looking at him.

Eddie’s a fucking goner.

[strawberryspence]

There's a red string, strung and tied into a small bow on Steve's pinky finger. It never breaks, never fades. It stretches for miles and miles and miles. There's a shimmer in it when it hits the sunlight. It's beautiful, meaningful. His connection to his soulmate.

Steve's always been excited, always been curious as to who is on the other end of it. His mother has always told him to not follow it, that it may be dangerous, he could get lost.

He only tried following the string once. He was twelve, alone at the big house, with no parents and no friends. The string reminds him that there's a person on the other side of it, there's comfort in that. He follows it— follows, follows, follows— until he reaches the Hawkins Sign and sees the road ahead. The string still goes for ages, and it could go anywhere. He goes home to that dark, lonely house, and cries so hard the string vibrates in the dark.

When Steve finds the other end of his string, he thinks, its too late. The people around him— his parents, his friends, his peers— has already dictated who he was supposed to be. He finds the other end of it just at King Steve's peak. He finds it in between the fame and arrogance. He finds it, in the middle of the cafeteria, standing high on top of a table.

The string tightens, almost like it's pulling him to the other end. But as they stare at each other, from opposite sides of the cafeteria. Both having the realization that they are each other's soulmates and both knowing they can't do anything about it.

Steve tears his eyes away from him, tears his eyes away from Eddie Munson, tears his eyes away from his soulmate and continues back to his life. He continues as he learns that monsters exist, that there are kids being experimented on, that he can still change, that not everything is set in stone.

When the kids first mention the mysterious, eccentric, dungeon master that adopted them. The one with cool tattoos and long, frenzied hair. A name the kids cheered for in between the shelves of Family Video, that makes Steve's string glisten in anticipation. He thinks, maybe it's not too late.

And when Spring '86 finally comes around, and Steve watches as Dustin and Max scurry to find the man. Steve relents, his own concern and worry overflowing from the beams. He tells them to get in the car, as Robin closes up the store. They all silently watch as Steve follows his string.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie whispers, broke bottle held against Steve's neck.

The string between them shimmers in anticipation, its the closest they have ever been to each other. They can almost feel it vibrate in excitement.

"We're here to help." Steve answers back. He wishes— not for the first time— that he knows his soulmate. Knows what comforts him, knows what makes him feel better.

But as Eddie pulls away, finally calming down and telling them what truly happened. Steve thinks that his curiosity could wait till later. It's not too late. Not yet. Steve just has to help Eddie out of this.

"You want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, just after Steve thanks him for coming after him in the lake. Like Eddie would leave his own soulmate to drown and die in the underground world that just ate him.

"About what?" Steve asks. He knows what Eddie's asking, but he wants to be sure, doesn't want to step into boundaries.

Eddie raises his pinky, the string lifting with his hand, and it's fascinating as Steve sees his string being pulled this close by the other end.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks back, eyes wide.

"Do you?" Eddie challenges.

Steve is tired, and there's an ache in his body, maybe it's the bites or maybe it's the ache to be near Eddie. "Yes. I want to talk about it. But maybe not right now. Not here."

Eddie's taken aback for a second before he chuckles, "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk later."

"Later."

There's no later, not when they're just about to go to war with some evil wizard that can gauge their eyes from the inside. Just before it's time to go, just before it's time to go to war. Steve reminds Dustin and Eddie to be safe, to not be heroes. Steve turns because he needs to leave, if he doesn't do it right now, he's not sure if he'll ever go. Eddie calls him back.

"Steve."

Steve turns back. Only because it's Eddie and he'll always turn back for Eddie.

Eddie looks at him. Big brown eyes shining under the red sky. Eddie raises his pinky again, the ribbon tied on it tightens instinctively. There's a certain softness in his face; tender and hope mushed together.

"Stay alive."

Steve nods, raising his own pinky.

"Later."

Eddie nods, and they both turn from each other.

There's a moment. Just a sliver of it, where they think they won. If Steve has to describe it, he will say that it feels exactly like gasping for air after a long lap in the pool.

Steve realizes that they're wrong when the vibrant red of his string flickers to something duller. It's the first time it ever does that, and his heart drops. No.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Steve cries out, as Eddie's blood spills from everywhere.

"I know. I am sorry." Eddie smiles weakly at him.

"We got to move you. We got to—" When Steve moves him, Eddie moans in pain, tears spilling from his eyes. Steve steadies him again, doesn't move another inch to give his soulmate some kind of comfort. The pain of it goes straight into his ribs and into his chest.

"There's not gonna be a later. I am sorry, sweetheart." Eddie looks up at him, smiling softly as he cups Steve's face. "I am sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."

"I am sorry I didn't either." Steve sobs, clutching on Eddie's hand.

"We're soulmates." Eddie says. There finality in the statement, no room for questions and confusion. "We'll find each other again."

"No, Eddie." Steve shakes his head, stubborn as ever.

Eddie's hand slips off Steve's face, "See you soon, sweetheart."

Steve doesn't know what happens next. Nobody ever explained it to him. He thinks it's cruel that nobody ever prepares you for this moment. As he watches the once bright string finally die down, the shimmering turning into nothing. Slowly, but surely, disappearing. His only connection with his soulmate— with Eddie— forever gone.

The only thing that's left is a black string, tied on his pinky without its other half.

It's too late now.

-> my beautiful @undreaming-fanfiction's happier ending

[dukeofthomas]

why does every reconciliation fic go like this

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Terzo's hands are always cold. I...I put angst in it. Sorry ?

"Your hands are cold, Cardinal," Omega remarks as he helps the man down from a ladder in the Ministry's library. Terzo, gloveless for once, a heavy tome tucked under his arm, glances up at Omega in surprise, then down at where his hand rests in the ghoul's much larger one.

"Ah, yes, poor circulation and all that. I apologize if it bothers you ; I forgot my gloves in my room."

Terzo makes a move to retreat his hand, but Omega holds fast to it. Bother him ? How could the man's touch ever bother him ?

"Not at all, Cardinal. It was merely unexpected."

Terzo's lips quirk up in his trademark insolent grin.

"I am full of surprises. And I told you, it's Terzo."

"Terzo," Omega corrects himself with a hint of smile in his voice.

Though the man cannot see his face behind the mask and hood, he seems to catch Omega's amusement, mismatched eyes glistening with glee at being responsible for the ghoul's pleasant mood.

His hand squeezes Omega's, coolness seeping under the ghoul's skin like a brand.

"I am going to melt my way back into the Pit," Alpha complains, collar obscenely wide open, almost down to his belt, mask long since discarted. Practice is running late, and the suffocating weather is getting to everyone.

Omega can feel his uniform stick uncomfortably to him, even with a few buttons left open - far less than Alpha still. The quint's mask, though, remains on.

"You sure you don't wanna lose the head cooker, 'Megs ? If you get brain-fried, no one's strong enough to carry you back to your room, princess."

Omega huffs and half-heartedly growls at the mouthy fire ghoul.

"I'm fine. And you've carried me before, asshat."

With a snort, Alpha petulantly crosses his arms.

"Yeah, no, not lifting anything in that weather."

Their banter is interrupted by a mildly entertained Papa.

"Enough, enough you two. You do look a bit hot, dear Omega. Are you positive you are feeling alright ?"

There is concern under Terzo's amusement as he steps closer, brow furrowed under the papal paint. He looks majestic, embracing his still relatively new role like this, easily slipping into the authority of his title.

"I promise I am fine, Papa, it is simply a bit warm."

With a sceptical hum, Terzo reaches out to press a bare hand on the side of the quint's clamy neck, gloves forgone in such a weather.

Omega ever so slightly sags into the touch, hoping that his fellow ghouls won't pick up on it. It isn't only the blissful coolness of the man's palm that warrant such a reaction from Omega, but the ghoul is not ready to look too much into it.

"I've been told my hands are cold," Terzo smirks, sparkling eyes crinkling in the corners. "Is it helping ?"

Omega's voice catches in his throat.

"Yes, Papa."

It certainly does send a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Good. And it's Terzo, for Lucifer's sake," the man huffs, ignoring Delta's grumble about also being cold to the touch.

When Terzo pulls away, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Omega mourns the contact, eyes straying to the man's hands longingly.

Terzo tastes divine, and Omega is nothing if not a creature of indulgence, licking into the man's mouth like a beast starved for more of this addictive flavor that is so intimately Terzo.

Omega wants to devour him whole.

He paws at the man, blindly gropping his hips, his waist, his shoulders, growling when Terzo is forced to pull away to take a shuddering breath in.

"I've been...wanting to do this...for so long," he pants, paint smudged around his mouth. Omega groans, enamored with the pink the confession brings to Terzo's ears.

If he's being honest, Omega saw it coming. Ever since he started losing the mask in front of him, Terzo had seemed incapable of not staring at the ghoul, eyes lingering on his lips any chance he got.

"Me too," the quint sighs, promptly molding their mouths together again. His tail wags helplessy when Terzo's hands start to roam, deftly unbuttoning his uniform after a pause to ensure Omega would let him. The ghoul burries his nose in Terzo's neck, inhaling his scent, grazing his teeth against the delicate skin.

Terzo pushes the uniform off his shoulders, eager. Omega yelps, back hitting the closed bedroom door.

"Shit, fuck, sorry, are you okay ?" Terzo mumbles, eyes searching, hands stilling where they're splayed over his chest.

"Yes, fine. Hands. Cold. Surprised me," Omega chuckles, pressing a soft kiss under Terzo's ear. The man hums.

"Do you want me to stop ?" he teases, still tortuously unmoving. Omega grunts, letting his lips peal back in a playful snarl, thick fangs scraping more insistantly against Terzo's neck.

"If you stop, I might bite, Terzo Emeritus," he warns. Unbothered, the man tangles his hand in Omega's hair.

"Oof, the governement name. Please do, my dear Omega, I fear that sounded more arousing than you planed it to."

Groaning, Omega presses his forehead to Terzo's.

"You're impossible."

A sparkling, hungry grin as hands start to explore once again.

"That I am."

It's late, and there isn't enough light in Terzo's bedroom to see much more than vague shapes, yet he still traces Omega's scars and tattoos with perfect accuracy, raising goosebumps on his skin.

"Ah, I forget," Terzo whispers in the dark, head resting on Omega's chest, "cold hands. You're shivering, my love."

The quint grabs Terzo's wrist before he can withdraw his hand.

"I don't mind, Terzo, you know it."

With a content sound, Terzo keeps going, fingers skimming over the burn on his side, the latin sentence on his hip, the stretch marks on his belly, touch light and reverent. Omega exhales a pleased sigh, tugging Terzo closer until he can kiss him slow and soft, gasping when another cool palm comes to hold his face with a tenderness that could make his ghoulish heart burst.

"How did I get so lucky ?" the quint whispers in what very little space he finds between the both of them. "You are a dream come true, love."

Terzo huffs, white eye stark against the general darkness.

"I'd argue I'm the lucky one, my dear Omega."

Those careful fingers glide over his features, leaving cold trails of worship, and Omega closes his eyes.

"Not like this. Not like this, please," Omega whispers, voice hoarse, clutching Terzo's hand. Even through the leather of the glove covering it, it's so cold.

With a sob, Omega bows his head, forehead thumping against marble.

"Please, Terzo, don't do this to me, please."

But there is no answer, and the hand in his is cold in a way that means something far too catastrophic for Omega's brain to wrap around it.

See, this is nowhere near the usual chill of Terzo's perpetually cool fingers, the gentle coldness of his palm teasing aginst Omega's skin. No, this is a frigidity that speaks of absence.

Absence of life.

On his knees before his lover's body, Omega finally understands that he never knew real cold before this moment.

[rozeliyawashereyall]

Well then.

First, I would like to say that I take full responsibility for mentioning this again /hj.

@jinx-you-lose you started the jacket the theory. You must suffer with us.

SAME WITH YOU @willowve01

[fcthots]

thinking abt wearing jason's initial on a necklace but in a taylor swift kind of way

-🕷️

THIS THIS THIS CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

I WANT TO WEAR HIS INITIAL ON A CHAIN ROUND MY NECK CHAIN ROUND MY NECK NOT BC HE OWNS ME BUT CAUSE HE REALLY KNOWS ME WHICH IS MORE THAN THEY CAN SAY-

ANYWAy

Here's the thing about the fucking press, since the moment they found out Jason was alive, they've never let him breathe. Your relationship went public against your will only two months after he was declared legally alive. Since then the opinion on your relationship had fluctuated. Sometimes there were fan accounts and other times you were sent death threats. Jason did what he could, but he couldn't stop everything.

The worst that happened was when you went with some friends. It was just dinner on a balcony at a nice restaurant. Jason had gone to some concert with one of his siblings. To be honest, you were too drunk to remember which. You were out with three friends two of you were drunk. The birthday boy doesn’t like to drink, but he gave the ok for everyone else. One other friend stayed sober and offered to be the designated driver.

You're solidly drunk. Drunk enough to actually be excited to take pictures. Drunk enough to be laughing the whole time. Drunk enough to try to call your cat on the phone.

Either way, you're singing happy birthday while your friends are taking pictures so you lean over to kiss the birthday boy's cheek and tell him "HappsyBirthay!" He laughs and thanks you. It's a good time. Your other drunk friend kisses him on the other cheek and takes a picture of it on his phone. It's cute. It's fun. But it is 11:30 pm and time to go home.

You're about to get in the designated driver's car when he asks for your address. You don’t invite people over much, what with Jason having to go on patrol and bloody bats dropping in. You're also drunk enough to not know your address. "That's a relly diffisult queshion. Do you know the answer?" You look over to the birthday boy; he's been to your apartment a few times to have lunch and feed the cat.

He looks over at the designated driver. "I don’t know the address, but I know to get there... Don't worry about it. I'll take her home."

"We goin home?"

He laughs. "Yeah."

"Holy shit! Is Jason gunna be there?" He puts his arm around your waist to guide you into his car so you don’t fall.

"I don’t know. You said he was going out tonight, but I don’t know if he's back yet." He laughs again and waves goodbye to your other friends before he buckles himself into the driver's seat.

The car ride home is mostly quiet. You're half asleep, and it's not long until your friend is pulling into the parking garage. He taps your shoulder and asks for your key. You don’t know where it is. He asks for your phone. You hand it over, and he asks Siri to call Jason.

Jason picks up after half a ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man. It's me. We're in the parking garage and your wonderful girlfriend is too drunk to find her keys. Any chance you're home."

You hear Jason's voice ask something about articles, news, and pictures before you fall asleep again.

A few minutes pass and someone's calling your name and unbuckling your seatbelt. You look over and see Jason leaning over you.

"J'son!"

"Hey, sweetheart."

"I missd you." He grabs your bag off the floor.

"I missed you too. Hey can you give me your phone?"

You nod your head and hand him the phone.

"I'm gonna pick you up. Ready?"

"Yeah!" He lifts you up while you shout "Weeeee!"

He closes the car with his shoe and turns toward your friend. "Thanks, man. Happy Birthday. Sorry about everything."

"'s no problem. Take care of her. Bye."

You don’t remember much of the elevator ride up or getting in pajamas or getting in bed. But you remember waking up. That wasn't fun.

Jason makes you breakfast, and that in itself isn't out of the ordinary at all, but he's acting weird. Every time you ask for your phone he says "I'll give it to you in a minute."

You can't take it anymore. "Jay, just tell me what happened. You're killing me. Did I post anything dumb while drunk again?"

"No." He sighs and grabs your phone out his pocket before opening up an article. You take your phone from him and read the headline. You feel sick.

"Jason Todd and Girlfriend Broke Up! Finally She's Gone"

You take a bite of eggs off Jason's plate and keep reading.

"Here's the evidence:

"nobody's heard from the couple for months, not even so much as an instagram post from the once vocal couple

"Todd was seen last night at a concert singing his heart out to breakup songs, images below

"and most damning of all: the now would-be ex-girlfriend was spotted last night getting cozy and leaving with new man, exclusive photos below!"

You scroll and see zoomed in photos of you kissing your friend's cheek and getting into his car. You bang your forehead into the counter repeatedly. Jason puts his hand over the spot you're hitting your head against. You look to him and he looks apologetic.

"I'd prefer if you didn’t read the rest. I don’t think Vicki Vale likes you very much. I'm having Bruce sue the company right now."

You try to hit your head into the table again and he grabs your cheek to stop you. He leaves his hand there. This time, you look apologetic.

"I'm sorry. It just makes me upset when people think I don’t love you or that you don’t love me." You meet his eyes and he's smiling.

"I had an idea."

He pulls two small boxes from his pockets and you stop yourself from making a comment about the size of men's pockets. Before you have the time to freak out, questioning what's in the boxes, he opens them. They're necklaces with the initials of your first names. He takes the one with your initial and puts it around his neck. The chain on his is longer than the other one.

"Obviously you don’t have to, I just had a feeling you might want to. I'm not trying to put a brand on you-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'm never taking it off."