#only to burn bridges and end up right where i began

[whereforarthur]

Am I a Burden to You?

Request: arthur’s been working a lot and y/n misses him, she brings this up and he gets angry and calls her ‘clingy’ before realising he messed up and making it up to her (angst —> soft)

- Anonymous

Pairing: Arthur Hill x Gf!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Angst with a happy ending

*****

The room was filled with a heavy silence, only occasionally pierced by the distant hum of a passing car. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes glued to the laptop screen as she replayed Arthur's latest video for the umpteenth time. His laughter, usually a soothing melody that filled her heart, now echoed hollowly around the emptiness of their apartment. She hadn't seen him in days, his work schedule swelling like a tide that had swallowed their plans whole. The aroma of cold coffee lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the mornings they used to share, chatting about their dreams before the day's responsibilities washed over them.

Her phone buzzed, startling her. She glanced at the screen, expecting a message from Arthur, perhaps a simple "Miss you," or "Can't wait to see you tonight." But it was just another notification from his YouTube channel, announcing a new collaboration with a fellow musician. Her heart sank. The screen flashed with images of him smiling with his friends, seemingly unfazed by the void in his personal life. Y/N felt a sting of sadness, realizing she had become an afterthought in his whirlwind of success.

With a sigh, she decided to confront him. It was time to voice her concerns before the distance grew too wide to bridge. She picked up her phone and called Arthur, her heart pounding in her chest. He answered on the third ring, his voice a blend of surprise and fatigue. "Hey, what's up?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone light. "I just wanted to check in, see how your day's going."

Arthur's sigh was audible over the phone. "Yeah, it's hectic as usual. The music video's almost done, but the director's a bit of a nightmare."

"That sounds…challenging," she offered, trying to keep the conversation afloat.

"More than you know," Arthur replied, his voice tight with frustration. "Look, I'm just really busy right now. Can we talk about this later?"

Y/N felt the rejection like a slap in the face, but she pushed on. "It's just that…I miss you, Arthur. You've been working non-stop, and it feels like we're living separate lives."

There was a pause, and for a moment, she thought he might have hung up. But then he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "I'm sorry, but you know how important this is to me. I can't just drop everything because you're feeling clingy."

The word 'clingy' hit Y/N like a knife. She felt her cheeks flush with a mix of anger and hurt. "I'm not being clingy," she said, her voice strained. "I just miss spending time with you." She looked around the room, her eyes blurring with unshed tears. The apartment, once a sanctuary of their shared memories, now felt like a cold, empty stage where she was just a prop in Arthur's one-man show. The anger grew, a slow burn that began to consume her. She knew she wasn't being clingy, just expressing her love and missing her partner.

"You're always working," she continued, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "We never do anything together anymore. It's like I'm invisible."

Arthur's tone shifted, now laced with defensiveness. "Invisible? That's not fair. I'm just trying to build a future for us. You know how much this means to me."

"I do," Y/N said, her voice quivering. "But I need you to understand that I need you too. It's not just about your future, it's about ours."

Arthur's silence stretched for a painfully long moment before he finally spoke. "Look, I'm sorry if it feels that way. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's just…it's not nice to be called clingy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It makes me feel like I'm not enough, like I'm just holding you back."

Arthur's voice softened. "That's not what I meant. I know you're not holding me back. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Y/N's grip on the phone tightened. "Then why do you keep pushing me away?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I'm not pushing you away," Arthur said, sounding genuinely surprised. "I just need some space to breathe, to focus on my work. I thought you understood."

"I do understand," Y/N said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "But I miss you. Can we talk about this in person?"

Arthur's sigh was a heavy gust of wind through the phone. "Alright, I'll be home in an hour. We can talk then."

The wait felt like an eternity to Y/N. She paced the apartment, her thoughts racing. The clock ticked away the minutes, each second a pebble thrown into the river of their relationship, creating ripples of doubt and frustration. She busied herself by lighting a few candles, hoping the warm glow might ease the tension that had settled in the room. The faint scent of vanilla filled the air, a stark contrast to the coldness that had seeped into their lives.

Finally, the door swung open, and Arthur stepped inside, his eyes weary, his shoulders slumped. He dropped his bag to the floor, and she rushed over to greet him, wrapping her arms around his neck. For a moment, he stiffened before relaxing into her embrace. His arms circled her waist, and she felt his chest rise and fall in a deep, tired sigh.

They sat down on the couch, the candlelight casting a soft glow across their faces. Arthur looked into her eyes, searching for the words to explain his absence. "I'm sorry, love," he began, his voice thick with regret. "I know I've been distant. The pressure's been getting to me."

Y/N nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "It's okay," she murmured. "I just miss you."

Arthur's gaze softened, and he gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I miss you too," he admitted. "But I didn't mean to make you feel like you're not important. You are. You're everything to me."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart aching. "It's just hard," she said, her voice trembling. "I want to support you, but it feels like you're pulling away from me."

Arthur took her hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her palm. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, his eyes sincere. "This isn't what I wanted for us. I guess I've been so caught up in my work, I didn't realize how much it was affecting you." Arthur took a deep breath, preparing to dive into the depths of their issues. "I've been thinking," he began, "maybe we should set aside some time, just for us. No work, no phones, just… us."

Y/N nodded, a glimmer of hope sparkling in her eyes. "That sounds perfect," she said. "But you have to actually stick to it. I can't keep being the one to remind you."

Arthur squeezed her hand, his gaze earnest. "I will," he promised. "Because I do miss you. And I don't want to lose you."

The conversation continued, the air in the room slowly shifting from tense to hopeful. They talked about their schedules, making plans for date nights and weekend getaways. Arthur listened intently, nodding and agreeing, his eyes never leaving hers. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N felt seen and heard.

As they sat there, the shadows of the room grew long with the setting sun, painting the walls with a warm, comforting glow. The silence that had once felt oppressive now felt like a blanket, wrapping around them as they leaned into each other. It was a silent promise, a vow to work on their relationship, to find a balance between career and love.

Y/N laid her head on Arthur's shoulder, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her ear. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. They sat like that for a while, basking in the quiet understanding that had been so elusive lately. It wasn't a perfect fix, but it was a start. A step towards rebuilding the connection that had been frayed by time and neglect.

"How about we start with tomorrow?" Arthur suggested, his voice a gentle rumble against her cheek. "I'll clear my schedule, and we can do something together. Just you and me."

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his for any signs of hesitation. Finding none, she smiled, a genuine one that reached her eyes. "I'd like that," she said, her voice a soft whisper.

They spent the rest of the evening planning their day together, the weight of their earlier conversation lifting with every shared laugh and whispered secret. Arthur's fingers danced over the screen of his phone, setting reminders and moving meetings, his determination to make it work palpable in every tap and swipe. They decided on a picnic in the park, followed by a visit to the art gallery, a place they'd talked about going to for months but never found the time.

*****

The next day dawned bright and clear, the kind of London morning that made the city feel alive and full of promise. Arthur woke up early, his heart fluttering with excitement. He had a surprise in store for Y/N, something to make up for the lost moments and the harsh words. He dashed to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air as he prepared a breakfast tray with her favorite croissants and a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the local market.

When she woke up to the smell of breakfast and the soft knock on the door, Y/N's eyes lit up. She padded out to the living room, her pajamas rumpled and her hair a mess, but she had never looked more beautiful to Arthur. He watched as she took in the sight before her, the surprise and joy washing over her features. "I know I said I'd make it up to you," Arthur said with a hopeful smile, "but I wanted to start today."

They sat together on the couch, the morning light spilling through the windows, casting a warm glow on their faces. They talked and laughed, sharing stories of their days and dreams for their future. Y/N felt a weight lift from her chest, the warmth of Arthur's love surrounding her like a cozy blanket. As they finished their breakfast, Arthur handed her a small, beautifully wrapped box. "This is just a little something to say I'm sorry," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Inside the box was a necklace, a delicate chain holding a single pearl. It was simple, but to Y/N, it was perfect. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you."

They kissed, a gentle brush of lips that held the promise of more to come. The picnic in the park was everything Y/N had hoped for, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of children playing. They talked and laughed, their words mingling with the chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves. Arthur had even packed her favorite sandwich, and she watched as he took a bite, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the afternoon sun began to set, they strolled hand in hand towards the art gallery. The promise of a quiet afternoon surrounded by beauty and culture was exactly what their hearts needed. The air between them was light, the tension of the past few days replaced with a gentle excitement for the future.

In the soft light of the gallery, they wandered from painting to sculpture, their conversation a gentle symphony of shared thoughts and feelings. Arthur paused in front of a particularly striking piece, his gaze thoughtful. "This reminds me of you," he murmured, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering. "How so?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to her, his eyes full of love. "It's full of color, of life, even in the shadows," he said, smiling. "It's complex, beautiful, and makes me feel something deep inside."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as she leaned into him, her heart swelling with love. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes shining. "You make me feel seen."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of art, music, and shared moments. As they walked home, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the city, Y/N knew that they had turned a corner. The future was uncertain, but for now, she had Arthur by her side, and that was all she needed.

[saintship]

Can i request Reader being almost blown up on the mission and their face is almost completely burnt/scarred??😢When they wake up and see their red face covered in bandaids and oils they just break down and decide to wear a mask from now on. And Konig seeing them doesn't know what's going on until he accidentally notice how they pulled up their mask a little to eat. Pleaseee😭 I've hard this idea for days. Can it be with fluff at the end? LOVE YOUR WORK SM

THANK YOU !!

OH MY GOD SAINTSHIP ABOUT FUCKING TIME

this has been ROTTING in my drafts I am so sorry anon, also got a little carried away at the end but nothing spicy just big feels

I really hope you enjoy

I love this idea it’s so fitting for König, I feel he’s very observant given how little he draws attention to himself.

Mask

König x gn!Reader - call sign: Radar

Life around the base could be monotonous. Being in one place usually meant paperwork, meals, paperwork, sparring or group lessons, more paperwork, passing out in your bunk, and doing it all again.

It was different, however, when all of this is happening directly after a loss. And not just losing the fight, but losing many of their soldiers. It was the young men, some no older than 20, losing their lives in the explosions that no one predicted that shook the 141 especially. Their only solace was that they managed to save you.

The air around you was burning hot, flakes of ash floating to singe the gaps of skin they could access. You crawled desperately on your stomach underneath a scorched truck, trying to make your way to the others.

“RADAR, COPY!”

A flaming piece of rubble tumbled next to you, making you jump.

“I’m—I’m on my way..”

“By the east bridge where we came in, you got that?”

Ghosts assuring tone rang faintly in your ears. Finally, you crawled out into a open area, stumbling in the direction of the bridge. The truck there flashed its headlights.

“Move it, private!”

“Yes sir..”

Before you made it a hundred yards, the engine in the car beside you exploded, blasting your body to one side and scalding the right side of your face in flames.

“RADAR!”

Your head smacked the dirt, and the world around you blurred until it was dark.

“Wrap their face!”

“Bampots, these fucks are.”

Soap’s voice cut through the fog that seemed to fill your ears.

“Speak—english.” Your rough voice caught the attention of the truck you lay in, Gaz quickly finishing up wrapping your face. He left as much room as he could, but all that showed in the end was your left eye and mouth.

“Lass..” Soap ignored your taunt, moving to kneel at your side.

“Hi.” Your voice sounded unlike yourself.

Soap’s attention was suddenly pulled to the back of the truck as it rolled to a stop. He darted to swing them open, revealing a few members of Las Almas.

“We’re understaffed on medics, but Rudy’s got basic medical training from boot.” Price explained. “Are you stayin’ awake okay?”

You nodded, the movement stinging your face and scalp, but as he said those words it was like he’d called it—the interior of the truck was dotting quickly in dark spots. Rudy’s gloved hand touching your shoulder was all you felt, and you slipped under again.

This time, it wasn’t voices that woke you. It was the incessant beeping of a heart rate monitor at your side. They’d brought you to the med unit on base—you were home. After taking in the sterile room, your head fell back against the pillow again, exhausted. Fresh gauze plastered most of your face, but the skin underneath felt dry. You needed a change.

Carefully setting down the fingertip pulse monitor on the bedside table, you guided your IV stand over to the mirror and sink, sifting through the drawers for gauze and burn ointment. After retrieving the right tools, you hesitate before removing your wraps. Your good eye seemed as though the color had dulled—the dark circles underneath especially prominent. Your lips were slathered in ointment, but the damage was evident. Breathing deeply, you began to unwrap the gauze. Your eyes remained trained on the sink until the last piece fell into the basin, only then lifting your eyes to the mirror.

No. No, no..

The right half was—gone. It was hard to describe; the skin that had been there before was rendered to an angry scarlet. The tissue pulled and tightened oddly, your right eye missing it’s eyelashes and eyebrow. A sob ripped from your throat involuntarily. Your face contorting from the crying caused pain to tear through your head while your tears stung the affected areas. You hardly registered a nurse coming in, leading you to lie back down, and re-wrapping your head through your protest. One sentiment rang clear through your breaking down;

You could not show this face anymore.

Which brought you to now. Sitting alone, hunched up in the corner of the cafeteria, quickly lifting your balaclava only to put food in your mouth before covering it just as quickly. It had only been a few days—the others knew to leave you be. The 141 sat in a group not far from you, one of them sneaking a glance every so often. You seemed to shrink into yourself, as though you could disappear if you cowered enough.

König wandered into the cafeteria not long after you’d sat down, sitting by himself to eat. You felt a little creepy people watching, knowing you resembled a certain intimidating member of the task force, but found nothing better to do.

König rid of his tray after eating quickly, going over to the 141 after Soap cheerfully called him over. You smiled at his inclusiveness, which deepened when König pointed to himself curiously. Even though smiling pulled at the tender muscle, you didn’t care.

König was pulled into a seat by Soap’s arm, the sight of such a smaller man strong-arming him rather ridiculous.

“Leave him be, Christ, Johnny.” Price picked at his tray, shaking his head at the soldier.

“I’m being friendly, sir.” Soap defended himself, relieving König of his arm.

“Friendliest in the military, aye?” Ghost murmured, lifting his mask to drink out of his canteen.

“Pride myself on it.”

“You’re diggin’ your grave, mate.” Gaz grinned.

“Oi, you-"

“Moving on!” Price grunted, to which Soap sat back and sulked at his refusal to let him argue.

“That was impressive the other day, König. Pulling a truck together and findin’ someone to treat Radar? You saved their life.”

König studied the grain of the tabletop, heat rising up his neck. “Danke. I still don’t know—what happened? They still look..scared.” König snuck a glance at you. Your fleeting eyes and hunched shoulders made his heart break. Seeing someone so determined, so welcoming, so gracious and funny and kind, reduced to a frightened animal—it didn’t make sense.

Price sighed, his eyes carrying the same weight König held in his chest.

“Their face..it got pretty fucked up. It won’t impact their daily living too much, and I’ve seen worse, but it obviously got to them.”

Soap fiddled with the screw top of his canteen. “Really got to them.”

König casted one last look and caught sight of your charred skin, everything clicking into place. You thought you needed to hide.

“I hope they get through it.” König murmured.

“For their sake.”

Because they’re so nice to be around.

König watched you a bit again at dinner, catching more of your facial scars. He wished he had the words to speak to you, but his boots seemed to cement to the linoleum at the thought of approaching.

“You got a crush, eh?” Soap’s sudden presence beside König startled him, studying Soap’s smug half-smile with confusion.

“Crush?” He repeated the new English word. “What is that? What am I crushing?”

“No-" Soap grinned, sitting up straight. “You have a crush. Means you like someone. In that way? König, do I need to explain-"

“No—no, no, I understand now.” König’s face burned; he was grateful it was largely hidden. “I don’t, though, I-"

Soap’s face morphed into one of ‘don’t even try.’

“It’s..” König huffed, lowering his voice. “I’m their colonel.”

“Eh, not really. Different clubs n’ all.” He pointed briefly to Radar. “They’re a keeper. And sweet, too. Don’t stamp this out, mate.” With a clap to König’s shoulder, he stood to join his task force as the mess hall cooks called an end to the meal. König nearly jogged to his quarters, his thoughts racing.

Sitting at the edge of your cot, you removed your balaclava for the first time in nearly 18 hours. The fresh air soothed the irritation caused by trapped sweat and fabric, a sigh escaping your nose.

You made you way to the mirror and sink, studying the damage as you did every chance you got. It wasn’t as angry as the day you got hurt, but the scarring would be permanent. You turned away before more tears could slip by, gently folding the cloth mask.

A rapping on your door made you jump, striding over quickly while wrestling with the mask to go back over your head. You opened the door cautiously, revealing a tall silhouette.

“Hello.”

“Hi, König..” you scanned the hall, not completely sure what it was you were searching for.

“Can I—come in? If that’s alright, it’s okay if-"

“Sure.” You left the door to sway of its own volition, turning to sit on your cot and look up at your coworker. “What’s going on?”

König closed the door gently, fidgeting with his hands. “I’ve—noticed something about you.”

Your shoulders deflate. “No shit.”

You didn’t mean to bite your words that way, but you did, and he shrunk a bit at your tone.

“I apologize. I will leave you be-"

“No, König,” you sighed, frustrated with yourself. “Say what you were going to say.”

He paused, as if a step in any direction would set off an alarm. “May I?” He gestured to the space beside you, to which you nodded.

The cot bowed slightly as he sat, his height still a bit intimidating even after some time knowing him. Being right next to him, you couldn’t help but feel a little small. He looked at his lap, wrestling with his mind on how to start the conversation.

“Where did you get your callsign from?” He blurted the question, briefly turning his head to you.

You paused, not expecting his casual inquiry. “Uh..when we did training in the dark, in boot camp, I could always feel someone coming up behind me.” You gestured to your back before clasping your hands back together. “My sergeant would tell me I had a built-in motion radar,” you laughed a bit at the memory, finding the courage to smile a bit under your mask. “Gaz had met me by then, and he started calling me by Radar, and it stuck.”

König blinked thoughtfully, humming in understanding.

“That’s not the reason you came in, is it?” You teased, leaning to push his side a bit. You noticed he let himself sway instead of remaining rigid.

“You got me. Uh..I just wanted to tell you something that I thought you could..consider.”

Biting back another deflective joke, you nodded, letting him continue.

“There was never a time in the military that I did not have my sniper hood.” He studied his boots, which still easily sat flat on the floor. “Not just because of my—aspiration, but.." he inhaled, then sighed deeply.

You could tell he’d never spoken these words. The impulse to touch some part of him, to comfort him, was blinding. Only his voice brought you back into the moment.

“It was..is, because I hate to see myself. I hate being seen. It feels like I’m giving away a part of myself to every stranger I come across. I would rather choose who sees me, in more ways than one.”

His voice was no more than a murmur, and for the first time, you saw the broken man nestled in a soldier’s body before you. His head hung low, his hands shook, and in the silence after his confession, his eyes fluttered shut. To hide from what, you didn’t know.

“I need you to know," he spoke, eyes still closed. “You don’t have to live this way. You are..kind, and resilient. And..” he turned his head away to utter the final word, a whisper in the dim light.

“And beautiful.”

“König..”

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry..” he stood abruptly, shaking the cot. Watching him head for the door, you refused to let yourself lose him.

“Wait.”

You ripped off what covered your face, your hair falling into place in its wake. König stared, entranced.

“I’m glad you came here. I don’t want you to go, I don’t..” it was your turn to sigh in pause. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”

König blinked, confusion gathering in his eyes.

“Please?”

“Liebling..” he breathed. He crossed the room in a few strides, taking your scarred cheek in his hand.

Anxiety held you in place, your hands finding purchase in the gaps of his vest and his sweater.

“You deserve to walk out of this room and not feel afraid.”

“König..”

And then his hands were over his head, pulling up his beloved sniper hood over and off of his head. You didn’t move, your only physical reaction being the blush that burned its way up your neck.

His eye paint made him look intimidating, but his eyes were far from threatening anyone. His lips, scarred from combat, parted slightly with bated breath. On the skin not painted with black, freckles dotted randomly, forming triangles, lines, and other shapes you wanted to memorize. His brow worried into a slight upturn, which was hidden ever so slightly by the hair that dropped near his eyes. The rest of it was a mess, a rich auburn that stuck up and settled down in all the right places.

“You’ve got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words tumbled out before you could catch them by the tail. Fear clogged your throat in the moments where he didn’t respond before he leaned down quickly, pressing his lips gently to yours. It was devoted and kind, a kiss that said I don’t just love you, I like you.

When he pulled back, both his hands were still settled on your cheeks, the heat of his palms making you dizzy.

“Thank you..” you breathed.

König grinned sideways, and you nearly fainted.

“For what?”

“Not leaving.”

[sunsetconcert]

In 1994, the Muppets made one of their most bizarre films to date.

An adaptation of Goncharov, a cult classic that languished in obscurity until the 2020s. While the film was referred to internally and in public reviews of the film as "The Muppets of Naples", the actual marketing of the movie instead titled it after its main lead: "Gonzorov". This was one of many enigmatic choices made by the production crew, and has never been elaborated on by the cast or crew. The film was a gigantic flop for multiple reasons, but most agree that the source of the troubles stems from the nature of Goncharov as a tragedy and a generally depressing movie to watch.

Reportedly, conflicts among the writing staff began almost immediately due to being unable to decide on which cut of Goncharov to base the film on. Eventually, however, director Brian Henson put his foot down and forced the writers to adapt the Ambrosini Cut. Generally agreed to be a less depressing movie than the Morelli Cut, it was expected that "Gonzorov" should have been a much more entertaining and narratively adept movie than it was. As the Muppets proved just two years later in "Muppet Treasure Island", they are very capable of handling otherwise dramatic material with aplomb. This leaves the question of why this movie was such a flop.

To quote Kermit the Frog during the interviews after the cinema debut, the movie was allegedly emotionally draining for the crew to adapt. "You know, we have a script. Mostly. But we do a lot of improv too. I'd wager it's about 60% script, 40% improv on a good day of filming. But, uh… We just weren't feeling it with this one, you know? We watched the original, and… Boy, it's really sad. Goncharov's just kind of a lonely guy trying to make himself a life. And it's not a good life, but it's his to own, and it ultimately kinda falls apart. Gonzo tried to make the role his own, but I think we all realised that we couldn't really make a joke out of the movie in the way that we wanted to."

The Muppets were skillful enough to change the genre to an absurdist tragicomedy, a film where the tragic and meaningless cycle of violence is paradoxically played for laughter. However, despite this, the film is well-known for its bizarrely melancholy air and almost hopeless atmosphere. Everybody seems thoroughly certain that their improv will have little to no impact on the film as a whole, creating a strange and compelling meta-narrative where not even the actors themselves can escape the almost gravitational pull of the ticking clock. Their characters will die, and any attempts to joke their way out of it comes off as desperate, almost deluded in a sense.

The original Goncharov held a deep fascination with inevitability. Clocks are the primary theme, though it appears in other forms. It is this same inevitability that strangles the Muppets, their impressive comedic skills held captive by their own belief that the narrative is inescapable.

Of particular note is the bridge scene, wherein Gonzorov and Katya (played by the dazzling Miss Piggy) discuss the slow collapse of the Italian mafia. The original Goncharov scene had Goncharov desperately trying to hold things together, even as they slipped through his fingers, but here… Gonzorov realises that it's pointless. He can't fix it, but at the same time he can't let it go. He begs Katya to shoot him. Cut to the chase. She's going to shoot him anyway, that's how the movie ends, right? Might as well go out on his own terms. But this horrifies Katya, and she throws her gun away, accidentally saving Gonzorov in the process.

This adds a new layer to the themes of inevitability that Goncharov is wrapped up in, and it's this: Inevitability goes both ways. You're going to die, but only when you're meant to. You don't get lucky. You don't have accidents. Inevitability is a ticking clock, but that countdown is a safety net. As long as you can still hear that clock ticking down, it means you've stitll got time to burn. When a bomb is counting down, just five minutes until it detonates, you do everything you can to buy yourself more time on the clock. Even if all your effort only gains you an extra second, that's what you have to do, right? A single second is worth the blood of innocent men.

But again, inevitability. That second you earned cost you minutes, cost hours days weeks months years. The clock WILL run out.

[read more]

[eddiiiieeee]

Hate myself for loving you!

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar! Reader

warning: language and adult themes

enemies to lovers (slow burn)

events of upside never happened.

face claims for Miranda and Mark are Maryl streep and robert di naro

border/lace credit to @benkeibear

the songs mentioned and lyrics are current songs. they ARE NOT MINE. i will be listing the songs in a separate post. but imagine whatever song in a rock/metal sound.

1989!

“absolutely fucking not.” Eddie scoffed as he glared and Mark, Corroded Coffins manager. The rest of the guys stayed absolutely quiet. “and why not Munson? mind you ever since you two started out they’ve always been on top of us no matter what! so what could possibly make you not want to make a song together! you both play the same genre so what the fuck is the problem now Munson?” Mark said as he glared at Eddie. “Problem is they are a fucking disgrace to rock music! simple.” Eddie said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“fuck no!” y/n said as she stared at Stacey in complete disgust, The girls looking over at y/n knowing the exact reason for her outburst. “and why not?” Miranda asked raising her eyebrows at y/n which wasn’t a good sign. “because… we always top their songs on the charts! we’d be doing them a favour if anything.” y/n said as she crossed her hands over her chest. Miranda wasn’t convinced. she knew there was a reason. but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“he threw a whole tantrum, said that he refused to sing with a bunch of disgraces to the rock world as he put it” Mark said over the phone as Miranda walked down the halls of their record label, walking back to her office as her assistant followed her. “threatening wouldn’t work….” Miranda mumbled as she moved to sit on her chair, behind her desk “i’m all out of ideas Miranda.” Robert huffed as Miranda rubbed the bridge of her nose “i’ll call you back Mark” Miranda said as she ended the call and stared at the frame on her desk. a picture of all the girls when they won their first grammy.

Eddie walked out the building and rolled his eyes as their cameras began flashing. it was a well known fact all over the world that Eddie munsons biggest enemy was paparazzi. they annoyed him too much. he put his glasses on before walking over to his car, pushing through the large crowd as he made it inside his car and drove off, not giving a fuck who was where. he just wanted to go home and relax. he took a glance at his glove box. knowing exactly what he’d hid in there. when he moved to open it he took a glance back at the street only to press on the break

1986!

Eddie ran through the hallways of hawkins, in his first, was a paper. hes going to graduate. the most important thing right now was to find her and tell her that he’d done it. that he’d passed. he’d gotten to her locker right when she did, he wrapped his arms around her and spun her around before slamming his lips against hers as she let out a fit of giggles. once he put her down he looked at her as he wore the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his face. “what?” y/n giggled as she licked her lips, wiping off her red lipstick from Eddie’s face.

“i’m fucking graduating. i passed!” Eddie smiled as he handed y/n the paper, she grabbed it her smile soon after copying the same one he had on his face. “you did it! i’m so proud of you!” she smiled as she hugged him tightly. Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist again as he felt her arms around his neck. he took in her scent as he kissed the side of her head. “and since i did, i’m taking you out for dinner and then a lovely two course desert back at my place” he teased as he bumped their noses, causing y/n to smile as she gave him a peck “i’m not apposed to the idea” she smiled before watching as Dustin ran over to the two

“watch it ya fucking asshole!” y/n yelled as she had pulled Robin back from getting run over, therefore their coffee landing all over the road. the girls were too caught up in making sure they were ok that they hadn’t noticed who the driver was. Eddie had noticed who he almost ran over, his face fell for a moment before he hit the gas and sped off. y/n glared at the car from the back cursing under her breath “i hate new yorkers.” y/n said as Robin chuckled “if you haven’t realised we are new yorkers” Robin said to which y/n rolled her eyes

“you wanna get another coffee?” Robin asked as y/n shrugged “sure, the asshole ruined mine anyway” she said as she put her hands back into her leather coats jacket as she and robin walked back into the store. Eddie gulped as he’d realised who he almost ran over, he rubbed his chest as he felt it tighten. their time together bringing tears to his eyes. it was all his fault. she hated him and it was his fault. she would never believe him. he missed her. ached for her. Eddie turned the radio on in hopes of it changing his mood. but he was met with her voice booming through the stereo. it was the song that made Glass Army the band that it is today. the song came out right after Corroded coffin released their first single, Vampire. which was dedicated to y/n. “up next! Glass Army’s hit song, I don’t care!” the radio host said as the song started.

Eddie remembers vividly the first time he heard the song. the hurt in y/n’s voice in the recording. which was kept in. it was her response to Vampire and Eddie knew it, because the cover of Vampire was a polaroid of y/n’s hand on Eddie’s guitar. her face didn’t show, it was just her hands around the neck of his guitar. they took the picture after y/n jokingly got long nails with bats on them for their prom. they looked great and that’s why Eddie took the picture, she had slipped on all his rings too. but the cover image to i don’t care was a bunch of polaroids, on fire. one of the polaroids were of Eddie’s old van and their tree carvings. of course, the E in the picture was burnt out but Eddie knew.

1986!

y/n giggled as Eddie inspected each nail “that’s so fucking cool baby” Eddie chuckled as y/n smiled, moving to peck his lips before grabbing his hands and slipping his rings off, if this was in any other instance with someone else, Eddie would’ve caused a scene at his rings being taken, but it was y/n. he’d give her his soul and organs if she asked. y/n laid on Eddie’s bed as she grabbed sweetheart from next to her, placing it on her as she wrapped her hands on its neck in a way to show off her nails, Eddie grabbed his camera and snapped a bunch of pictures.

Wayne smiled as he heard their giggles through the walls. Eddie put the guitar and camera aside before he climbed on top of y/n, his hands on either side of her head, his lips ghosting hers as she stared into his eyes. their lips connected as they moved to the rythme of ‘still loving you’ by the scorpions in the back. “you know i love you?” Eddie muttered against her lips as her lipstick smeared off, she nodded kissing him again as she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close “i know ed’s…i know.” she muttered back

[romancingstars]

So hold me down and never let me go.

rockstar!bassist!remus lupin x reader

warnings: established relationship , heavy flirting , kissing , living together , remus being a huge tease

to all you Remus Lupin super fans you’re probably thinking: ‘Hey! This looks familiar?’ and you’d be right! this is a repost, i’ve moved accounts and i want everything i’m proud of in the same place. so, i hope you enjoy reading, or perhaps rereading this little drabble.

960 words or smthn

“Cute skirt.” Rem complimented, leaning on the kitchen counter. You rolled your eyes in response, walking towards him. “Seriously, love, looks dead nice. Is it new?” he said, looking you up and down. He had done that a couple of times, however you decided not to comment on it. It was best not to feed the fire.

“It is new, got it the other day. With, uh, what’s your little wizard friend called. The one with funky hair.”

“Marlene? And it’s very rockstar girlfriend.”

“Yes, Marlene. She’s lovely. Also, you’re not a rockstar, Rem. You’re getting full of yourself.” you replied, sarcastically. As you giggled, he gave you a look of feigned offence.

“I’m the bassist in a rock band, dove, I am the definition of a rockstar.” he said, once again looking you up and down. You were struggling to resist the temptation of basking in his gaze. If you were religious, Remus Lupin would be the devil.

“You haven’t quite mastered the ‘star’ bit yet.” you joked, attempting to get your revenge. See, Remus always seemed to have the upper hand, when it came to you. He knew exactly what to do and what to say, when it came to you. So, it was a rare luxury to have something to hold over him.

“Ahaha. How many copies did our album sell?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Three?” you responded. Looking up at him innocently, it was taking a lot not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“Fuck off.” he stated, shaking his head. Even though he was faking annoyance at your comments, it didn’t take long for Remus to gravitate towards you. He moved away from the counter he was leaning on and towards the sink, where his mission began. Not paying attention, you started work on making cups of tea for the two of you. You had only just finished filling the kettle, when he decided this was the perfect opportunity to snake his arms around your waist and rest his head in the crook of your neck.

“Hiya, Rem.” you whispered, giggling quietly to yourself. You tried to continue with your rather mundane task but, you knew you’d succumb to his enticement - eventually.

“Hiya, love. You’re ignoring me.” he mumbled into your neck. Feeling his warm breath, the hairs beneath his touch stood up on end. You were almost certain you would never get used to Remus acting like this.

“Am not! Let me finish what I’m doing for once, pleasee.“ you complained with frustration thick in your voice. All your efforts were futile -which you had previously predicted- as Remus dropped his hands to your hips and spun you round. Now you were face to face (what was as close as you could get to face to face) you couldn’t deny him anything. Remus was so very tall; it was impossible not to look up to him. His honey brown eyes were burning into your soul and the sensation was irresistible. Melting like putty in his touch, you were completely compliant to his every wish and desire. For the most part anyway, but if he wanted you to jump off of a bridge you’d probably have to think about it.

“There we go. C’mon you’ve been out all week, missed you.” he whined back. You found it a little funny how someone so desperate could have such a tough exterior, but decided now wasn’t the right time to comment on it.

“I’ve seen you every day, Rem, we live togeth-.”

“It’s not enough.” he cut you off, not maliciously. Even if it were, any malicious intent would be cancelled out by the sweetest action that followed. Your lips met. Soft, sweet and somewhat addictive. Far better than any ex, that was for sure. In fact, Remus was far better than anyone else you’d ever met. He moved in sync with you. One scarred hand gripped your hips and the other crept up to the side of your head, burying itself to your hair. Your own attached themselves to his sandy brown locks, tugging lightly at the strands. Feeling like your mind was about to explode, his kisses would always send your emotions into overdrive. You simply couldn’t contain yourself with him and that’s exactly what he wanted.

Breathe. You had to remind yourself to breathe as he pulled away. Resting his forehead against your own, Remus looked at you with what could only be described as love-sickness in his eyes. Cautiously, you peered up at him through your eyelashes, trying not to trigger another outburst; you just wanted to make your tea. However, you would never admit how much you enjoyed Remus when he was like this because after all nothing is fun without a game.

“Much better.” he said, simply. His eyes never left you and you had to admit you couldn’t look away either. Fuck. “Okay, you can go make your tea now.” he added as a sly smirk crept onto his face. Fuck.

“Remus! You’re such a prick- oi. Come back.” uoi whined, frowning at him as he walked away. In response all he did was shrug his shoulders.

Then, he said “Sorry, dove. Got rehearsals with my rock band see you later though. Love you.”. He grabbed his jacket from the hooks beside the door and gave you one final kiss goodbye. It was short and anything but sweet. It was horrifically mean. And just like that, he was gone.

You were left standing in your kitchen starstruck. Unable to think, do or see anything other than him, you found yourself rendered incapable. Somehow, his temptation always had this affect. You just had to pray he’d be in a good mood later, a less teasing mood perhaps.

[romancingdaffodils]

So hold me down and never let me go.

Bassist!Remus Lupin x Reader

told you it was time for a new era :3

pure fluff !!! Remus is a tease and a little mean but what’s new. He’s a cutie so it’s fine.

pretty shit because i’m rusty with writing but it’s just a small one shot so it doesn’t matter. enjoy my drabble !

ps. al you asked for credit so here u are here’s ur credit bitch face @alegsy :3

“Cute skirt.” Rem complimented, leaning on the kitchen counter. You rolled your eyes in response, walking towards him. “Seriously, love, looks dead nice. Is it new?” he said, looking you up and down. He had done that a couple of times, however you decided not to comment on it. It was best not to feed the fire.

“It is new, got it the other day. With, uh, what’s your little wizard friend called. The one with funky hair.”

“Marlene? And it’s very rockstar girlfriend.”

“Yes, Marlene. She’s lovely. Also, you’re not a rockstar, Rem. You’re getting full of yourself.” you replied, sarcastically. As you giggled, he gave you a look of feigned offence.

“I’m the bassist in a rock band, dove, I am the definition of a rockstar.” he said, once again looking you up and down. You were struggling to resist the temptation of basking in his gaze. If you were religious, Remus Lupin would be the devil.

“You haven’t quite mastered the ‘star’ bit yet.” you joked, attempting to get your revenge. See, Remus always seemed to have the upper hand, when it came to you. He knew exactly what to do and what to say, when it came to you. So, it was a rare luxury to have something to hold over him.

“Ahaha. How many copies did our album sell?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Three?” you responded. Looking up at him innocently, it was taking a lot not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“Fuck off.” he stated, shaking his head. Even though he was faking annoyance at your comments, it didn’t take long for Remus to gravitate towards you. He moved away from the counter he was leaning on and towards the sink, where is mission began. Not paying attention, you had began work on making cups of tea for the two of you. You had only just finished filling the kettle when he decided this was the perfect opportunity to snake his arms around your waist and rest his head in the crook of your neck.

“Hiya, Rem.” you whispered, giggling quietly to yourself. You tried to continue with your rather mundane task but, you knew you’d succumb to his enticement eventually.

“Hiya, love. You’re ignoring me.” he mumbled into your neck. Feeling his warm breath, the hairs beneath his touch stood up on end. You were almost certain you would never get used to Remus acting like this.

“Am not! Let me finish what I’m doing for once, pleasee.“ you complained with frustration thick in your voice. All your efforts were futile -which you had previously predicted- as Remus dropped his hands to your hips and spun you round. Now you were face to face (what was as close as you could get to face to face) you couldn’t deny him anything. Remus was so very tall; it was impossible not to look up to him. His honey brown eyes were burning into your soul and the sensation was irresistible. Melting like putty in his touch, you were completely compliant to his every wish and desire. For the most part anyway, but if he wanted you to jump off of a bridge you’d probably have to think about it.

“There we go. C’mon you’ve been out all week, missed you.” he whined back. You found it a little funny how someone so desperate could have such a tough exterior, but decided now wasn’t the right time to comment on it.

“I’ve seen you every day, Rem, we live togeth-.”

“It’s not enough.” he cut you off, not maliciously. Even if it were, any malicious intent would be cancelled out by the sweetest action that followed. Your lips met. Soft, sweet and somewhat addictive. Far better than any ex, that was for sure. In fact, Remus was far better than anyone else you’d ever met. He moved in sync with you. One scarred hand gripped your hips and the other crept up to the side of your head, burying itself to your hair. Your own attached themselves to his sandy brown locks, tugging lightly at the strands. Feeling like your mind was about to explode, his kisses would always send your emotions into overdrive. You simply couldn’t contain yourself with him and that’s exactly what he wanted.

Breathe. You had to remind yourself to breathe as he pulled away. Resting his forehead against your own, Remus looked at you with what could only be described as love-sickness in his eyes. Cautiously, you peered up at him through your eyelashes, trying not to trigger another outburst; you just wanted to make your tea. However, you would never admit how much you enjoyed Remus when he was like this because after all nothing is fun without a game.

“Much better.” he said, simply. His eyes never left you and you had to admit you couldn’t look away either. Fuck. “Okay, you can go make your tea now.” he added as a sly smirk crept onto his face. Fuck.

“Remus! You’re such a prick- oi. Come back.” you whined, frowning at him as he walked away. In response all he did was shrug his shoulders.

Then, he said “Sorry, dove. Got rehearsals with my rock band see you later though. Love you.”. He grabbed his jacket from the hooks beside the door and gave you one final kiss goodbye. It was short and anything but sweet. It was horrifically mean. And just like that, he was gone.

You were left standing in your kitchen starstruck. Unable to think, do or see anything other than him, you found yourself rendered incapable. Somehow, his temptation always had this affect. You just had to pray he’d be in a good mood later, a less teasing mood perhaps.

[your-local-crypt1d]

My Count fWhipula headcanons since y'all seem to like my ideas and I wanna infodump about my blorbo

As previously mentioned, fWhip is only half vampire (a Dhampir) but, due to genetics, inherited all the vampire traits from his father and none of the human ones from his mother. So, for the sake of readability, I will continue to refer to him as a vampire, since he is no different from a pure breed one.

Anyway, at a young age, Gem made fWhip a necklace enchanted with an altered version of fire protection to protect him from the sun. fWhip keeps that necklace hidden under his clothes, both for the literal protection it grants him and for the sentimentality of it.

fWhip knew when Sausage was fully corrupted when he purposefully stole that necklace; ripped it right off his neck and watched as fWhip began burning up.

Taking some inspiration from the Sims 4, I think Vampires have two forms: a more human-looking appearance minus some telltale vampiric signs (fangs, deathly appearance, etc) and a "dark form" (their true face) which in my mind looks like a grotesque humanoid bat monster. It's also my way of combining old gothic horror views around Vampires as these unholy ugly monsters with the modern twilight views of Vampires as hot.

This isn't to replace the classic bat form, though! fWhip can turn into a little vampire bat too, as a treat 😌

fWhip stays in his more human-looking form most of the time, the switch between them can be painful and while the True Face has its benefits (e.g. typical Vampiric strength and speed), it's not enough for him to want to switch regularly.

In the past, he has used his True Face to scare off bullies picking on Gem. Even if the switch is completely voluntary, Vampires don't always retain their sentience when changed and other people are very aware of that fact.

Also, Vampires involuntarily switch to their True Faces on blood moons, so about 2-4 times every year. I just think it'd be funny if Vampires and Werewolves had something in common when they're so often pitted against each other.

Usually, when that happens, fWhip goes to hang out with Gem in the Cliffs. I like to think he turns into a massively oversized puppy during the whole thing, so he's just super clingy to his siblings throughout it.

The only other time a vampire is forced to switch to their True Face is when they are starved of blood for too long.

Vampires can't cross running water, which makes trips to places like the Codlands a bit painful. It's also not helped by the fact only fWhips' immediate family is aware of his vampiric nature.

The other emperors learn about his Vampirism after the whole Xornoth debacle. Completely coincidentally and not at all related, bridges and other structures across running water seem to pop up randomly around the realm.

Another problem for Vampires is being unable to enter if not invited, it's usually not a problem if Gem or his other siblings go inside and then "invite him inside", but there's been some very awkward instances with friends Jimmy where they say he's always welcome and fWhip has to (as politely as he can) demand they specifically say he's invited in...

The whole curse just works like a lock that needs the words "you're invited in" or any variation to be "unlocked".

If livestock isn't enough to satiate fWhips' hunger, he may drink from criminals locked away in the Grimlands' prisons. Not like petty thieves or whatever, those who deserve to have their blood periodically drunk.

I think fWhip could also teleport very short distances through shadows, useful for when he's hopping from the forge to his office but not so if he needs to leave the grimlands, or even go from one end to the other.

Yes, because fWhip's a vampire to me that does mean his wings are big bat wings to me as well.

[gerrystamour]

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapter 3]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST PART ] [ NEXT PART ]

Summary: “God actually hates me, He has to,” Steve muttered darkly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. “Kinda rich, coming from God’s favourite Golden Child,” Eddie said, coming around in front of Steve. Seeing his tears, Eddie’s grin faltered. “Shit, who hurt you, Harrington?”

Chapter Three: October 1984

If it didn’t suck so much, Steve would probably laugh about his situation.

Once again, he felt sorry. Not for himself at the moment, even if it felt like he had been gutted, his chest hollowed out with a dull knife. Mostly, he felt sorry for hurting Nancy all over again. The first time he hurt her, it was him being cruel because he was hurt. This time, it was him trying so hard to make things normal for both of them again.

Maybe he felt a little sorry for himself, he thought sadly, his heart heavy with hurt.

He sat at the far side of Tina’s backyard on a bench that faced the forest, smoking a cigarette and trying really hard not to actually cry.

“Hey, Steve?”

Looking up at the sky, Steve blinked rapidly to compose himself before he glanced over his shoulder. “Hey Jonathan, what’s up?” he greeted, his voice only a little shaky.

“Is everything—I saw you come out here, and Nancy is—?” Jonathan stopped abruptly when Steve blinked a tear loose and it streaked down the cheek he could see.

“Shit,” Steve hissed as another tear fell and he scrubbed at his face roughly. “Fuck!”

“Is there some way I can help?” Jonathan asked, soft and genuine, and Steve wished he could be mad at him. If this happened a year ago, he definitely would have snapped at him, maybe even hit him just for seeing him cry.

Blowing out a gusty breath, Steve nodded. “Can you get Nancy home? She’s had a lot to drink and she doesn’t want me—my help,” he said quietly.

“Hey, don’t say that, she loves—” Jonathan started, and Steve cut him off with a sharp sound.

“Jonathan, please. I don’t—just… Make sure Nancy gets home okay?” Steve nearly begged, pinching the bridge of his nose as another stupid wave of tears welled up.

“Yeah, man, totally,” Jonathan said and he grabbed Steve’s shoulder with a gentle firmness that went a long way toward comforting him. “You okay to get home too?”

“I live down the street, man, I’m fine,” Steve chuckled, his voice still wavering and a bit watery.

“Oh, right, I guess I forgot,” Jonathan laughed, and that actually brought a bit of a real smile to Steve’s face. He must have been doing something right over the past year for Jonathan to forget that his parents were rich. “See you at school?”

“Yeah, see you at school,” Steve replied with a nod, patting Jonathan’s hand where it still held his shoulder before the other boy let go.

With a heavy sigh, Steve leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hanging his head while his forgotten cigarette slowly burned down. He had been quitting that stupid habit, which he’d only picked up in the first place because Tommy smoked. Nancy always made a face when he would lean in to kiss her, even hours after he had smoked, so he gradually just stopped entirely. Of course, now that he was apparently cut loose from that relationship, he was back to his old habits. Would he go back to being King Steve, supreme asshole of Hawkins High? Reclaim his throne from that piece of shit Billy Hargrove?

Was he only a good person because he thought Nancy Wheeler was in love with him?

A new wave of tears welled up and he choked around a sob that stuck in his throat like shards of glass. He let the tears happen this time, staring listlessly down at the ground between his feet, miserably trying to figure out where his performance for Nancy ended and his actual personality began.

When he couldn’t immediately determine that answer, he let out a sighing sob.

He was probably too drunk to be thinking about it.

A shoe scuffed the ground just behind Steve and he tensed, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course Jonathan didn’t actually walk away, too soft to leave his former-bully and sort-of-friend crying on Halloween.

“Byers, I swear to God, if you don’t go take care of Nance like I asked, I’m going to barge into the dark room every time you’re in there until I graduate,” Steve threatened half-heartedly. He somehow already did that more often than he cared to admit, but that was neither here nor there.

“Not Byers, Your Majesty.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hissed, sitting up to take a long drag from his cigarette.

Eddie chuckled behind him. “Damn, you’re bad at this, Harrington. Guess again.”

“God actually hates me, He has to,” Steve muttered darkly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

“Kinda rich, coming from God’s favourite Golden Child,” Eddie said, coming around in front of Steve. Seeing his tears, Eddie’s grin faltered. “Shit, who hurt you, Harrington?”

Steve bristled, and the thought of telling Eddie anything about what happened in that bathroom… he would legitimately rather take on a Demogorgon again.

“Can we just get this over with, Munson?” Steve asked tiredly, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. To his frustration, they were immediately replaced with fresh ones.

“Get what over—?”

“Y’know, where you laugh at me, call me a bitch or a pussy, and then leave me alone,” Steve said, trying for angry, but he was apparently too sad to muster it and just sounded depressingly resigned.

When Eddie didn’t immediately say anything, Steve met his gaze. The other man’s expression was startling, honestly. It wasn’t the gleeful, delighted expression Eddie had worn outside The Hawk, or any variation of the smiles that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face. He looked… afraid?

At least that would be how Steve would normally identify the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. Then again, Steve had determined over the past year of casually noticing Eddie that wide-eyed was more like his default setting.

Eddie finally shut his mouth to clear his throat before shaking his head. “Nah, man. It’s only funny when you’re bleeding,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.

“What?” Steve scoffed, sneering up at Eddie.

“I don’t like laughing at people who’re crying,” he elaborated with a shrug. “It feels like punching down, even if they probably deserve it.”

“Gee, how fucking kind of you,” Steve grumbled, tossing his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it with his shoe.

“Seriously, Harrington, what’s this all about?” Eddie asked, and Steve hated how genuine he somehow made his voice. Like he actually cared. “Did Byers do this too?”

“Jonathan?” Steve laughed, shaking his head and chewing the inside of his cheek. “Nah, he was just checking on me. I was like this before he showed up.”

After a few moments of silence between them, Eddie sat down next to him and leaned back, spreading his long arms across the back of the bench. “If it wasn’t Byers, who was it?” he asked before affecting a knowing look. “Was it that dick, Billy? Did losing your title as King Douche of the Keg do this?”

Steve laughed and something fluttered in his chest at Eddie’s pleased expression. “For the record, no, this has nothing to do with that bullshit—” Steve cut himself off, sighing heavily and tipping his head back to look up at the sky again. Nancy’s words came back to him in a rush, about the party being bullshit, him being bullshit, their love being bullshit. Steve shook his head and said, “it doesn’t matter. I did this to myself.”

“You… made yourself cry?”

“Yeah, because I’m just… bullshit, y’know?” Steve said, frowning as he idly tried to identify whatever constellations he could remember.

“Well shit, Harrington. I could’ve told you that years ago and saved you the drunken epiphany,” Eddie teased, lifting a hand to shove Steve’s shoulder lightly and knocking another proper laugh out of him.

“You’re not wrong, Munson,” he murmured with a little smile. Despite that, more tears spilled down his cheeks and he hissed, “fuck, I hate this. I just want to go home.”

“How about you just go home then?” Eddie asked as he draped his arm around the back of the bench again.

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “Can’t go home like this,” he replied.

Eddie tilted his head. “And… why not?” he pressed, and Steve jumped when he felt Eddie’s thumb begin to idly stroke the cap of his shoulder. 

It was a motion that seemed thoughtless, like it was just what you did when your hand was resting near someone else. It was weird for a guy to be doing that with him, and Steve knew he should probably pull away, but it felt… nice, especially with how upset he was.

“Hello? Earth to Harrington?” Eddie crooned in his ear, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” Steve said, shaking his head a bit.

“I asked why you can’t go home like this,” Eddie reminded him, an eyebrow raised.

‘Because my dad might still be up.’ “I just can’t, Munson, drop it,” he finally replied, fear and shame twisting in his gut along with his heartbreak. When he returned his gaze to Eddie’s, the expression on his face was a mixture of skepticism and understanding.

Silence stretched between them, Eddie’s thumb switching from rubbing Steve’s shoulder to lightly tapping out a beat. “Want a joint?” Eddie asked suddenly, and Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“I don’t have cash on me, man,” Steve managed to say after a moment when his tipsy brain caught up. “I wasn’t planning on—”

“I’m not trying to sell you anything,” Eddie interrupted, shaking his head. “I was going to smoke one anyway. We can share.”

Steve glared suspiciously. “What’s the catch? There has to be some kind of catch,” he accused. Finally, Eddie’s mean smirk rose to his face.

“Why? Because there’d be one if you were offering?” he asked and Steve reared back a bit at that, properly angry.

“What? No! People who don’t like me generally don’t offer me free shit, Munson,” Steve bit out as he stood up to glare down at him.

Eddie glowered right back up at him, his mean smirk slipping. “I just felt bad for you. Was trying to be nice,” he said sullenly, and Steve felt a little bad for snapping at him. Only a little, though, because pity? From Eddie “The Freak” Munson? That was enough to fire him back up, even if he withered at his own unkind thoughts.

“I don’t need or want your pity, Munson,” he practically growled, hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

“Then why’re you out here crying?” Eddie snapped, his face twisted in a mean scowl.

“In here feeling sorry for yourself, Stephen?” The sound of belt snapping. “I’ll give you a real reason to cry.”

Steve swatted at an imaginary bug to disguise his flinch. Eddie was watching him with those stupid, wide brown eyes that seemed to notice and understand too much. He didn’t want to give him more ammo, more ways to get under his skin.

“Yeah, I was crying out here alone for pity,” Steve spat sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he turned around to leave. He would take his chances calming down in the forest, maybe get eaten by a Demogorgon or something. That would definitely spare him any more embarrassment.

“Harrington, wait.” A hand closed around Steve’s wrist, the grip firm enough to stop him but immediately gentled so Steve could pull away if he wanted. The cool, slender fingers and cold metal of Eddie’s rings against his wrist were grounding, kind of comforting, so Steve didn’t immediately pull away. Again, it struck Steve as something that was probably weird for two guys to be doing, but the physical touch did wonders to settle his head a bit.

“What?” Steve asked, his anger and embarrassment slowly bleeding out of him.

“I offered because I figured it might help you calm down, that’s it,” Eddie said, his big brown eyes looking up at Steve earnestly. “I do actually feel bad about you crying, because I mean it, I don’t like seeing anyone crying. And feeling bad isn’t always pity, y’know?”

Steve thought back to all the times he had insisted Jonathan share his lunches with him over the past year, always making excuses about not liking half of it or lying about eating too much breakfast. It was never out of pity that he did that. He had genuinely cared and wanted to share because he had enough to do so.

All of the anger left Steve at once, leaving him feeling hollow and exhausted. Numb. “I can’t just accept free shit from you, Munson, even if you want to pretend to share it with me,” he said after a few moments with a tired smile, then he shrugged. “That, and I can’t go home high either.”

Eddie watched him unblinkingly for several moments before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. Makes sense,” he conceded, his thumb idly stroking the inside of Steve’s wrist.

The gentle touch sent goosebumps up Steve’s arm, right up the side of his neck and onto his scalp. His eyes flickered down to watch the movement, getting lost in it. There was a weird, warm weight that settled in his gut as he watched that thumb shift, each sweep making that feeling crawl up into his chest. Heat rose to his cheeks and that embarrassed fluttering returned to his chest.

Pulling his wrist away suddenly, Steve cleared his throat. “Thanks, though. For the offer,” he said, the words a bit stilted. “And I guess for getting me to stop crying after all.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I did,” Eddie laughed, and Steve was taken aback by how big his true smile was up close. How bright Eddie’s eyes lit up with it, and how deep the dimples formed in his cheeks. Steve had only ever seen that smile from across the cafeteria, and he had never had it directed at him. “How’d I manage that?”

“Being a dick, mostly,” Steve retorted, his tone teasing. The joke landed just the way he had hoped, keeping that huge grin on Eddie’s face as he laughed. The embarrassed fluttering got stronger in his gut.

“I’ll be a dick to you any day of the week, Harrington. Whenever you need it,” Eddie said, winking up at Steve when he scoffed.

“How generous of you, Munson,” Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes before taking a step backward. “See you around?”

Eddie’s grin settled into a smile. “You know it, Harrington,” he replied, spreading his arms wide along the back of the bench and tilting his head.

Steve glanced down the long line of Eddie’s body before clearing his throat. Waving awkwardly, Steve turned around and quickly left, practically jogging home.

When he got there, the house was dark and silent, his parents already in bed. No doubt he would have to deal with a lecture the next morning, but he would just get up early for a run and hopefully avoid them before he went to school. He paused in his plan, trying to do the mental math to figure out how early he would have to wake up to have time for a run and have enough time to pick Nancy up before school.

Steve abruptly stopped that train of thought; did he even have to pick her up? Should he?

The thought of showing up at her house in the morning to give her a ride to school after what she said was nauseating. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure if he had to be alone with her in his car which would be humiliating at best.

And what if she didn’t even remember what she said?

No, he wouldn’t be able to handle that first thing in the morning. He shouldn’t be expected to handle that first thing in the morning.

A spark of anger finally ignited inside him at that thought. 

Steve was fucked up from everything that happened last year, too. Maybe not the same way Nancy was, but his pain mattered, too, didn’t it? And yeah, maybe the way he had been dealing with it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t any worse than how Nancy was, right? It was completely reasonable to try to find some normalcy, to move on, to try to stop seeing a dead girl every time he looked at his pool, or glanced at the woods behind his house. It was reasonable and sane to just try to survive his senior year.

Steve didn’t have to feel bad for not mourning Barb or carrying the guilt of her death the same way as Nancy. He didn’t have to feel bad for being scared of the people who made them sign confidentiality paperwork while armed guards stood over them. He didn’t have to feel bad for just wanting to keep his head down, graduate high school, and get the hell out of that town.

Despite all of those self-righteous thoughts, Steve went to bed feeling sick to his stomach with his guilt and shame, thinking of all the ways he could have done better by Nancy, no matter the cost to his peace of mind.

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[13keithxpidge13]

AU where Miguel ends up destroying the universe wherein he reunites with his daughter, destroying everything and everyone in that known world yes but, all except for one person.

Hobie Brown. The Scarlet Witch of Earth 99934, the Earth Miguel destroyed.

Hobie Brown watched as his world slowly began to dissipate, glitches and holes in his world unraveled everything around him. He could do nothing as those he love withered away into tiny glitching pixels. His family, his friends, his-

His /love/. 

Miles was calling him frantically, terrified as his parents disappeared and his apartment crumbled underneath him. Hobie teleported to him immediately, racing to his side as Miles screamed and sobbed for him to /do something, Hobie! Save my parents! They’re gone! Bring them BACK!/

Hobie tried, using his magic he /tried/ to stabilize his realm. He used all his energy into attempting to bridge his world back together, to stitch it together again but-it was already too late.

Miles disappeared in his arms, the two of them huddled on the floor as Hobie tried using his magic to keep him attached to their realm but, how could he keep him here when his world was withering right before their /eyes/? If he couldn't save his world, how could he save Miles?

He watched as the last bits of Miles slipped through his fingers, turning to glitching particles as they fell past him hands and Hobie lost /everything/. Everything he knew was gone and he had been spit out into some unknown dimension, a universe caked in darkness.

For the longest time, he hadn't the slightest clue why he was the only one to survive. His universe was gone, why hadn't he disappeared with /him/? With the one person he’d give everything for?

He had tried killing himself multiple times. Had used his magic to suffocate himself, had tried jumping, burning, overdosing, anything to get it all to /stop/.

Nothing had ever worked.

Nexus beings aren’t meant for death, they cannot die unless a being with greater powers than their own will it so. But, Hobie was stuck in a universe all alone, one overtaken by complete and udder darkness. Nothing could kill him, not in this dimension.

But...perhaps the universe left him a gift. 

With his abilities, he could bend reality. Before his universe was destroyed, he had just been on the cusp of learning all he could about his newborn abilities. He soon found out he could travel to other dimensions, open up rifts between new realities different from his own.

Hobie Brown soon got his hands on an ancient artifact called; The Darkhold and used it’s powers along with his own to create a new world where he and Miles were together again, where everything was perfect, and they were /happy/.

He couldn’t save Miles then but, he brought him back and saved him now, wasn't that all that mattered?

They lived happily for months and Hobie almost forgot about his grief, all his pain.

But, of course, happiness wasn’t meant to last long for beings like himself.

An army of Spider-men from alternate universes had come to stop him, to set the multiverse back in order. They claimed he was corrupting and destroying the “canon”, whatever that meant. In the end, Hobie lost control of the world he had created whilst fighting off all the spider variants and their supposed leader eventually had him cornered.

“You can’t just disrupt the canon as you please,” Miguel O’Hara told him. “Believe me, I’ve tried to live the life I wanted. But, sometimes, we can’t have it all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hobie growled. “And, who decides that? My world was /destroyed/! Everyone I knew, gone. All my friends, all of my family, they all disappeared and I was left with /nothing/! Do ya’ have any idea what that’s like?”

Miguel sighed and nodded mournfully. “I do,” He told him. “Because I /caused/ the death of a universe when I tried to live the life I wanted and it cost everything.”

A hologram shows up and shows Miguel desperately trying to save a little girl while the universe collapses around them. Hobie’s eyes widen and he watches, ever so slowly going cold, going numb as he realizes-

That was /his/ universe/. That was /his/ world.

And Miguel...Miguel had been the one to destroy it.

Everything he had gone through, all the grief, all the pain, all the destruction, all the painpainpainpain-

It had been because of /this/ man.

“You...” Hobie breathed and glanced up at him, his magic already cracking at the edge of his fingertips and Miguel tenses. “It was /YOU/!”

He nearly explodes everything and everyone in his fit of rage. An anger and /wrath/ like never before overtaking him and he could no longer control himself. He let his magic go wild, attempting to destroy everything in his path to get to the person that /took/ his world from him-

The person that took /Miles from him/.

He doesn’t know what happens next. Perhaps he died. Perhaps he blacked out but, he remembered nothing more after it all. It was as if he was asleep for the longest time before reawakening-years later he comes to find not long after he wakes up again.

Miguel and those Spiders had created a vault to hold him in so he couldn’t escape, a place to keep him /monitored/ and another anomaly had destroyed that vault while attempting to stop an inter dimensional super being such as Hobie himself.

Well, no matter. He was out. No one could keep him caged any longer.

And, he could finally get his revenge. For himself. For his world.

For /Miles/.

And nothing, /no one/, would get in his way again.

[dinsdjrn]

gone, from austin | j. miller | part two

brothers best friend!pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader

summary: Joel Miller: the one that got away; right person, wrong time. Now you’re back in Austin and it hurts just as bad, as if you’d never left five years ago. [w.c. 2.4k]

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, no use of y/n, light angst, Sarah is alive and well, f!reader, smoking, depression, brief mentions of a mental breakdown, implied cheating (not joel), ex-lovers to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn, lmk if i missed anything <3

💌 a/n: FINALLY a part two? who am i?? anyways not sure how i feel about this story... but i know how i want it to end so ill keep going for that. lmk your thoughts <3

previous part | next part | masterlist

Part two | May 2002

You were a work of art, that’s the hardest part.

It had been three weeks since you had gotten home. You had become more than a bit of a hermit, looking and applying for jobs. You made yourself sparse in the house, you understood everything your brother did was an open invitation to you, but it was easier to disappear. It also gave you time to process, when you left Toronto it was a whirlwind, but now it was a dulling ache. Friends had reached out, wondering where you went, if you were okay. You gave them enough information so they wouldn’t worry, but not enough to come looking for you.

It was Friday morning, just like any other morning, you were searching through medical journals and websites looking for job postings. Search, apply, wait, and wait some more. It wasn’t very thrilling, but it was something to do to keep your head above water.

The alarm on your phone had begun ringing, 10 am, you reached into your desk drawer and took your meds. They filled a hole in your head you hadn’t known was there until you had a small breakdown two years ago. It was something only a few people in your life knew about, it wasn’t something you ever really wanted out there. There was almost a shamefulness to it, no one in Austin knew, and then one person in Toronto who knew about it was no longer welcome in your life. So you move on, continue as you have and hope that your ticket out comes sooner rather than later. 

A soft knock came at your door. 

“Come in!” You said, closing the desk drawer quickly. 

“Hey! Someone is at the door for you,” Kelsey popped her head in and smiled. 

You looked down at your Dell Med School t-shirt and Roots sweatpants and laughed lightly. 

“Is it anyone important?” You asked embarrassed gesturing to your pajama centered clothing choices. 

“I am sure they won’t even notice.”

You sighed and stood up, you lightly stretched and made your way downstairs. Just as the entryway came into view there was Sarah and Joel, Sarah with her backpack on and Joel shifting uncomfortably looking at the floor. 

“Hey guys,” you said, smiling at them. 

“Hey!” Sarah smiled. 

“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be at school already?” You questioned. 

“I had a dentist appointment this morning. We just came back to the house to grab my bag, but I wanted to see if you were around tonight,” She swayed, clearly hoping you’d say yes.

“I’m uh-, not sure,” You looked at Joel for guidance but he wasn’t paying any attention to you his sole focus was on Sarah. 

“I just really wanted to have that sleepover you promised! My dad is going out tonight and suggested it would be a good time for us to hang out and -“

“But only if you are available and want to,” Joel interrupted.

“Oh, yeah! That sounds like it could be fun. Why don’t I come over around 5ish and we can order some pizza?” You smiled at her. 

It would be much more comfortable without Joel there, you had felt like you were walking on eggshells when he would pop over to have a beer with Jake or help Kelsey fix things around the house. 

Joel nodded. 

“Alright baby girl, time to get you to school,” he began shuffling Sarah out the door. 

“See you tonight!” Sarah called over her shoulder. 

You waved at her in response and when the door clicked closed you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“You know, she really did miss having you around,” Kels leaned against the doorway behind you. 

“I know,” You sighed, “I just don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”

“What do you mean? You’ve known her since she was just a little kid. You’re not getting yourself into anything except maybe forgiving yourself for hurting her.” Kelsey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You don’t fucking get it! This isn’t a permanent solution. I can’t stay, I don’t belong here anymore! I don’t want to get her hopes up that I might by hanging out with her and letting things go back to the way they were. That will just hurt her again.” You snapped, a pang of annoyance in your chest.

“You being here and ignoring her, it hurts them both. You can talk a big game about how you don’t belong here, but this is your home, your family. I don’t know what happened between you and Joel, but it is clear he still cares about you. Is staying really the worst thing? At least thinking about it?” 

“They are not my family, you and Jake absolutely are. And you’re right, maybe this was home once, but it’s not anymore. All that’s left is a permanent scar of what could have been. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You turned to walk up the stairs. 

Kelsey came and put her hand over yours on the railing. 

“Look I’m sorry if I overstepped. I only want to see you happy,” Her voice was soft and apologetic. 

You just nodded in response and made your way back up the stairs, once in your room you made your way to the bed and cried into your pillow. You knew the love for Austin was there, it had always been there, but so was the hurt. The pain would always be there too, it painted your soul in blues and grays. That’s the hardest part, how beautifully life painted your anguish here. 

The day came and went quickly, and you felt unprepared for your sleepover with Sarah. You knew it would be nice to hang out, do face masks and watch a few movies, but your anxiety was palpable. You were worried it would feel like grasping at a life you could’ve had, but were strictly denied. 

You made your way next door around five and before you could even knock the door had swung open and Sarah was pulling you inside. 

“You’re here! Finally, I’ve been thinking about what we could do tonight all day. Dad said he would call a few pizzas in, we went to CVS after school too! I got nail polish, face masks, and some weird snacks,” Sarah spoke excitedly. 

It gave you a bit of whiplash, barely able to even get in a few “Alrights” or “Sounds Fun”’s in. 

“Woah, woah, Sarah slow down,” Joel said as you made your way into their living room. 

He was sitting on the couch in a black t-shirt and Levis, his hair was wet and the messy ways were pushed off his forehead. He was still so devilishly handsome, he never tried too hard with his looks, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look good; it arguably made him more attractive. 

“A’right, I’m going to get outta here,” He put his hands on his lap and made his way to stand, “Tommy is gonna be here any second.” 

“Dad, did you remember to order pizza?” Sarah asked with a hint of annoyance. 

“Oh shit,” he felt his pockets pulling out his phone, “I’ll call on the way over to the bar.”

“Don’t worry about it, Joel. I’ll get it,” You smiled softly at him, pulling out your own phone. 

“Y’sure?” He asked. 

“Yes, yes, she’s sure, now, go have fun. We have a very important girls night to get started on.” Sarah shooed her father toward the door.

Joel just laughed and rolled his eyes, you shrugged in response. 

As soon as you heard the door shut Sarah came rushing back to the living room. 

“Sorry, he’s a mess,” Sarah laughed.

“I can see that nothing has changed,” You laughed with her. 

You both fell into a comfortable conversation, it was nice to see Sarah so happy. She was completely different then when you had left, yet somehow exactly the same. 

The night was spent watching cheesy rom-coms, doing face masks and nails, and eventually Sarah had fallen asleep in her pajamas on the couch. It was nearly one in the morning, you placed a blanket over her small frame and began quietly tidying the living room. 

The night had warmed your heart in a way you weren’t sure you’d be able to feel again. Sarah was such a light in your life for so long, and now she was turning into this beautiful and kind teenager. You had talked all about her school, Joel and Tommy’s shenanigans, and what’s been happening around Austin. She didn’t push you though, you had talked about Toronto and being away from home without delving into any fresh wounds.

 It was nice, it felt good to know when you left it wasn’t your last memory of Sarah. You worried for years it had been and you’d have to watch her grow through the lens of your brother, but here she was in the flesh. 

You sighed, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge and pouring any extra soda from your glasses down the drain. You went and checked on Sarah after you had finished cleaning up to make sure she was still sleeping. She hadn’t even stirred, so you took this as the best opportunity to step outside and have a smoke. 

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but was something that you would normally only do after particularly stressful days. Today would classify as one, you didn’t like fighting with Kels. That, plus the anxiety of coming to the Miller’s and not knowing what to expect, warranted a need to de-stress. 

You made your way into the backyard, only closing the screen door in case Sarah woke up, and placed a cigarette between your lips. Just as you were searching through your bag for a light a voice startled you. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you smoked?” Joel. 

Fuck, you knew he probably wouldn’t have been much later, but it felt pathetic to be sneaking a cigarette on his back porch. 

“Not often, but you’d be surprised how common it is in healthcare.” You said finding the lighter and lighting the end. 

He looked at you for a moment, and you realized maybe he didn’t want you smoking on his back porch. 

“Oh, shit sorry, you okay if I-“ 

“Oh, yeah, I don’t really care,” he hurried before you could finish your question.

“Cool,” you said. 

The silence grew uncomfortable between you two. 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to startle y’a there,” Joel said. 

“Oh,” 

“I just saw the light on and wondered if you were out here.” 

“And here I was…”

“Here you were,” He shifted, “You always loved it back here. Sitting looking up at the stars after Sarah went to bed.”

“Yeah, I think I missed the stars the most while I was in Toronto,” you sighed. 

“I always thought they’d’ve had more stars up there,” he looked up at the sky. 

You had finished about half of the cigarette and put it out, it wasn’t doing anything for you at the moment except make you want to shower. 

“Not in the city, it was like a shitty, colder, New York,” You laughed. 

Joel chuckled at your comment. He came closer to you and leaned on the railing of the deck with you. It felt almost suffocating, he was so close to you and it felt so intimate. 

“Y’know, we’re really happy you’re here,” He said quietly. 

“Joel, don’t…” you warned. 

“I mean it, Sarah never stopped asking about you. She missed you, this girl's night made her whole year.” 

“Joel, please,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. You already carried so much guilt for leaving Sarah with nothing but a goodbye. You knew he was trying to comfort you but he was crushing your soul with guilt instead. 

“I’m sorry darlin’ I just… always asked myself what if things were different. Where we would be, how would Sarah be different if you had stayed,” 

His words ignited a fire within you, one that burned in anger and resentment. Who was he to ask what if, when he gave no choice in whether or not you had a chance at finding out. 

“We could talk about maybes and what ifs until we’re blue in the face, it doesn’t turn back time. Doesn’t change anything between us. You made a choice, Joel, and so you don’t get the what if’s,” You snapped. 

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. 

“I’m allowed to wonder,” He retorted. “You weren’t the only one hurt, y’know?”

“Well guess what, I wasn’t the one that wanted out when things got a little bit complicated.”

“Wanted out? You think I wanted out?! Fucking Christ, I didn’t want to hold you back. I have no choice but to stay in Austin, letting you go meant that you wouldn’t be tied down here!” His voice was quiet, but he was clearly irritated.

“I didn’t need you to let me go, I’m very capable of making my own choices. And if I had chosen to stay I needed you to tell me everything would be okay.” 

You weren’t speaking in a hushed tone like he was. You were frustrated, angry, he had completely backtracked on your breakup. Tears stung your eyes, you were frustrated and confused. 

“I’m done talking about this, Joel,” You said, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “You said your piece five years ago, and nothing is going to change that.”

You turned to head back inside, now that he was here you’d be able to walk back over to Jake’s and go to sleep. Make an attempt at forgetting this conversation ever happened and pretend your night ended with you and Sarah asleep on the couch. 

Joel grabbed your wrist before you got too far. 

“Please, just let me explain.” He pleaded. 

You pulled your wrist from his grip and left as promptly as you came. 

Your chest was tight and it was as if you could feel your heart shattering all over again into a million little pieces. The ghost of his love haunted you for years. He was still the same man you fell in love with, that much was certain. In that, it also meant, he was still the same man who broke your heart. 

And that was a risk you were not willing to take. 

To spiral out, to try and float, to see a friend, to see a ghost.

tags: @thetriumphantpanda @fruit-frogs @wand-erer5 @missgurrl @casa-boiardi @harriedandharassed @undrthelights @wishyoudaskme @reader-without-a-story @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi & once again sorry if i missed anyone or lmk if youd like to be on the taglist xo.

[remembertheplunge]

We cannot unsee what we have already seen--the 1980's

April 28, 1988

It’s now a Thursday—

Some post scripts from somewhere in the “last” night and from yesterday by Judge David Vander Wall “The 1970’s don’t seem that long ago. The 80’s are just passing me by…” DA Mike  Stone replied “The 70’s weren’t worth anything anyway.”

I watched last evening “a A Walk Through the 20th Century with Bill Moyer. The 1920’s" :

Flappers and fun flanked by Fraud and Famine. Poo Poe Pee Do! The truth was that the poor (in the 20’s) didn’t realize they were poor until long after they weren’t!. They had a general feel of contentment despite their financial situation.

What about us in the 1980's? In the KPFA Radio Folio program guide,Life in 1968 is compared with life in 1988. The 80’s were condemned as the 1950’s relived. 1988 Yuppies are the men in charcoal grey suits. Ahhhh! But, what bridged the years is the depth of awareness setting in. We cannot unsee what has been seen. We close only to heal and tp grow internally. The individual reform we know is the only true change. Only true “life” takes place on an individual basis. More and more we learn "..oh..when I had the Mercedes and miserable marriage I was poor. Now, I am…,Me!" 

To me, 1980 or 1981 were just about like 1988 in terms of styles, attitudes, money, etc. Pretty much the same. Music hasn’t changed much. Nothing has really. And yet, imperceptibly, everything has irrevocably changed, improved. Come a bit more into its own. 

Only you, the future, may be able to give it perspective. What, if anything, do the 80’s mean to you? Don’t forget us. We are a part of your past and thus a part of you.

I offer up this diary entry to you as a revelation of one person- traveler’s time notes written during  his time-space journey.

End of entry

Notes: 9/21/2024

I love the fact taht I included the line “We cannot unsee what has been seen” in the above 1988 entry. 

That has been my fight song passing through these turbulent times where the Republican Right is attempting to cancel our collective progressive progress. They can ban and burn our books and the Supreme Court can strip us of our rights. But. We have seen. We know. We will continue to live our lives and assert our  values despite and because of their orders. We have seen. We will act. We have agency.

I also think that it’s interesting that I said in the above entry that there was not much difference between life in 1980 or 81 and life in 1988. In 1980, I was not yet a. Lawyer, I was way in the closet and Aids was not yet publicly known about. By 1988, HIV  had been  known about for 7 years in which time it decimated many lives. In 1986, I began working as a volunteer helping men with Aids through their illness and death. I had been a lawyer for 7 years by 1988 .I had been emersed in the heavens and hells of criminal law defense. I had married in 1982 a woman who I left in 1984 as I began to emerge as a gay man. By 1988, I was fully out. So, actually I was a much more evolved person in 1988 than I had been in 1980. But, maybe because the evolution took place slowly over  years, I wrote about the decade as if very little had happen.

Judge Van Der Wall was a judge in Modesto California. I spent my 40th birthday in a murder trial in his court. His clerk, Linda, gave me a happy birthday cup cake that birthday morning in court! They have both since died. I just thought Judge Van Der Wall and Mike Stone’s  take on the 70’s and 80’s was interesting. Time was  just passing them by. Have you noticed the no one now in the mid 2020’s ever talks about the 20’s? I mean the 2020’s. We are living it . We can’t see it This now has no name . It just  is. But, I imagine in 20 years, they will be screaming about “The Outrageous 20’s!"

Flappers were the early forerunners of the women’s empowerment movement. They wore shorter dresses than their predecessors had and advanced women’s rights through word and action. 

Bill Moyers was a Public TV host. He did stories on interesting people and events past and present.

Per Oxford Languages Dictionary, a Yuppie was "a young person with a well-paid job and a fashionable lifestyle."

[revelforevermore]

The Ministry Playing Among Us

I had way too much fun with the Minecraft prompt, so this one was in order!

~~~

Prompt: During lockdown a few years ago when boredom began to set in, the Ministry discovered a new game to pass the time called Among Us.

Sister Imperator: She doesn’t partake…though there’s a “PimpMomma69” that will randomly appear in the group game at random intervals that’s sus.

Papa Nihil: He’s fucking useless in this game. Everyone knows when he’s the Impostor because he either: 1) asks in the chat why he can kill others or 2) he gets stuck clicking on the vent repeatedly so he’s doing a wack-a-mole type thing. 

Copia: He gets scared by the music of Among Us so he usually has the volume down. His favorite task is shooting meteors; least favorite is electrical, since that’s where he ALWAYS gets killed. Dew always convinces everyone else that he’s the Impostor and gets his ass booted early on. Copia gets upset when no one listens to him; he can’t lie, he’s always honest in the chat, and no one ever believes him. His little dude has the rat companion. 

Aether: Doesn’t play often, but when he does, he’s typically a crewmate. He oversees the discussion over finding out who is the Impostor (even on the off chance it’s him). He helps with the buddy system when there’s fewer left. He usually gets killed first though by the boys. He’s never been voted out of the round before. He’s the yellow crewmate and goes by “Banana”. Dew stole his phone and changed it to “BananaBitch”.

Dew/Sodo: Complete menace. He will burn every bridge and destroy every bloodline if it means he wins. Everyone automatically assumes he’s the Impostor because he will chase others around while they do tasks. He’s freaked Aether out doing this a lot. He gets a lot of false votes for this which pisses him off ENDLESSLY—and has led to him actually leaving the games every once in a while. As the Impostor, he vents really well. Goes for Aether first. Always leaves Cumulus as the survivor (he feels bad). Hates being a crewmate. Hates being a ghost more (though he likes to haunt Copia). He and Swiss have a separate chat outside of the game to cheat.

Sunshine: She’s in it to witness the smackdown fights in the chat. She likes letting the boys fight when she’s Impostor and targets them first; somehow always ends up winning the round or gets discovered very early, no in-between. She likes to fix the power in the game, but gets pissed when everyone else tries flipping the switches at the same time. She claims the orange crewmate. Refuses the other colors. She added a sprout to her head and sometimes goes by “Carrot”. 

Rain: He spends more time running around hyper fixated on the companion running with him than actually doing anything (his companion is the little dog). He doesn’t like to be Impostor since he feels it’s too much pressure and he enjoys doing the tasks. The type to accidentally vote himself out of the game, and usually he says “it was blue” while he’s cyan (Dew and Swiss can’t tell the difference, “blue is fucking blue” has been said more than once). When he gets killed, his ghost stays planted next to where his companion is sitting. When he suggests someone is sus, everyone jumps that person since Rain is usually right.

Cirrus: She’s silent but deadly. She’s excellent at pretending to do her tasks and often only kills a crew mate if there’s absolutely no chance of getting caught; she waits. She strikes quickly towards the end and gets a high kill count—often someone will find a body and suddenly four other players are OUT. Can often be heard giggling in real life while playing completely innocent.

Mountain: He’s a magnet for the harder tasks in the game, which is good since he can do them easily. He’s one of the first to get sniped since he’s good at catching Impostors and calling a meeting before he gets killed. He’s typically the scapegoat. As Impostor, he’s good at being sly—but usually gets found out before he gets more than three kills. His little crewmate is green with a sprout out of his head.

Cumulus: Nobody likes to kill her in the game since she’s more focused on completing tasks. She's in her own little world most of the time. Carefully crafts what she wants her crewmate to look like. Will actively mourn when the ghoulettes get killed. Her as Impostor is a different story; everyone dreads that. She’s always the least suspect since everyone’s so used to her doing tasks and being honest about it. It helps that she uses that innocence to be like “hey i didn’t know we could vent but i saw green doing it!”. She is the type to befriend a crewmate and quickly snipe them, then giggle and say “sorry but it’s the rules”. Her first target is always Dew. 

Swiss: Is the type to write “Red is sus” when he’s Red—or “guys I was in the vent it wasn’t me”. He’s the boy who cried wolf and is the type to get into serious arguments about who’s the Impostor. He thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes when he’s Officer Doofy. He’s a lot like Dew in the game, and they have a buddy system where they work together. Once when Swiss was the only Impostor, he killed Dew and they fought in real life about it for a few minutes. Once they calmed down, they started a new round. The same thing happened again and Among Us was barred from the Den for the evening.

[icee133]

Hi! This is part 7 of the ongoing Marionette series (yes I've decided to call it a series). Remember when I said part 6 was the longest? Lol nah it's this 1 now. Have fun! Sorry for any writing errors 🤍🤍

If you would like to be added to taglist let me know!

The Marionette

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7🤍

Word count for this part: 2875. Enjoy!👻👻

Synapsis:

A new overlord has manifested in hell seemingly overnight. One that overpowered many if not all of the current overlords in all the right ways. Will this overlord use her powers for good to help the members of the hotel? Will she fall in love with a man and end up in a loving gentle relationship? Or will she get her heart broken and turn against them all, burning each bridge she meticulously made. 

The Marionette is a heart wrenching fic with many turns you won't see coming. Stay tuned for each of the episodes as they are released.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Nette was walking down to the kitchen to prepare her and Lucifer’s dinner when she ran into Charlie. “Hey I need to talk to you… alone, quietly…please” Nette turned to her realizing Charlie seemed a little jostled and nervous. “What’s going on?” She couldn’t help but ask. “Just please follow me.” Charlie began pulling at nette’s overcoat leading her down the hallway. Nette followed her a bit concerned due to the amount of emotions that seemed to be running through the princess’s mind. She gave off an aura of someone who was hopelessly terrified of whatever she was walking towards. Nette had become quite protective over Charlie in the time they had been living together at the hotel. She had begun to see her as a daughter of a sort. Always checking on her and listening to any worries that Charlie might have about the sinners and redemption plans. Nette had never seen Charlie like this. She was always positive and bubbly, lighting up every room she walked into with a sense of compassion and pride. The charlie in front of Nette wasn’t the one she was used to seeing. Nette could only assume the worst at this moment.

Charlie pulled Nette into a room and roughly shut the door behind them before locking it. Nette looked around the room. She spotted Vaggie standing by the bed, and upon further inspection saw a male laying in the center of it. One who looked strangely familiar yet Nette found herself being unable to place where she had seen him before. “Charlie, what is going on?” Nette asked carefully not wanting to assume anything, but fearing the worst. “Okay… so I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not until I can figure out how to tell them. Honestly I don’t even know how this happened, and when I realized what had happened I didn’t know who to tell. You always listen to me anytime something happens-“ “Charlie” “-and I know it’s probably a bad thing that I’m doing this, and hiding it too, but I can’t help it. I know that sinners deserve second chances, and I think it includes this one too. Despite everything that he has done I think he deserves a chance to change and-“ Nette interrupted her nervous rant to try and calm the situation. “CHARLIE! Take a breath. I’m not upset, just a bit confused. Why do you want me to not tell anyone? Tell me what’s happening, who is he?” Charlie looked at Nette then slowly turned towards the male still on the bed before walking towards him. Nette carefully followed her not wanting her to freak out again. “Ok.” Charlie took a deep breath before continuing “This is Adam. The first man Adam. The Angel who Nifty killed in the last extermination. I don’t understand how he’s here, but I’m guessing by the looks of it he is a sinner now.” Nette looked at the man laying on the bed. Caramel skin, brown hair, with a bit of facial stubble. He was tall, a bit on the chubby side -but still muscular- with horns protruding from his head. He had bright red wings, and wore a robe similar to the one Nette had seen the Angel wearing before only it was open. He had on a white shirt and black pants under it. Nette took a deep breath. Quickly trying to process the information she had just been given. This changed everything as they knew it. If a winner could fall, if a human soul that proved themselves worthy to be in heaven could fall to hell that would mean a sinner could rise to heaven. But this also means the chances of heaven helping them speak to a winner would plummet. If they found out that a soul with divine ordainment somehow fell and ended up in hell as a lowly sinner they would do everything in their power to shut down this operation. Who knows what they would do, who they would send to put a stop to it all. This was dangerous, extremely so. Nette realized Charlie was right. They had to be careful who they told and when, telling the wrong person could lead to angry sinners banging on the door of the hotel trying to kill the Angel who once hunted them for sport. Or worse, angry angels knocking on their door for ‘causing an Angel to fall from grace’.

“Is he alive?” Nette couldn’t help but ask the obvious considering the information they knew about nifty killing him. “Yes, but I don’t know how. He was killed by an angelic weapon.” “Okay we need to be careful, I was going to tell you about this later, but it seems a better time to do it now. I spoke with your dad about getting heaven to allow us to speak to a winner. He said he thinks it’s a good idea to at least try. With the idea of the possibility of a sinner having been redeemed before and them not telling us being a factor in the decision. We were worried that they might be a little iffy about allowing sinners to speak with a winner due to the fear of ‘corrupting a soul’, but now I’m sure they won’t let us if they find out the first soul in heaven is now a sinner in hell. But I don’t think this is something that can be hidden from the hotel members. Sooner or later they’ll find out, and I’m sure they are pissed due to this man being the very reason that member of the family you mentioned ended up dead. They will likely try to seek revenge on him for that, and you can’t blame them for it. After all, he took a friend from them.” Nette explained. “Okay so dad was okay with that idea, but…yeah you're right they will be upset and rightfully so. When I found him I was going to leave him there, but something inside me wouldn’t allow it. I’m beyond angry at him. We lost a member of our family in that fight because of him. But- I don’t know… I couldn’t just let him suffer, as much as I wanted to.” Charlie had started to tear up while talking about pentious. He was a good friend to them all.

“Okay, I think we should start with telling your dad.” Nette started before Charlie yelled out “NO!” Nette turned to her “As much as I’m sure you don’t want to Charlie, it’s for the best. Your dad is one of the only people who could protect the whole hotel if something happened. He cares about you a lot and I know he would hear you out if you talked to him about this.” She explained. “I know but I only recently got him back into my life, we started getting closer and I don’t want us to get pulled apart again over this. But I can’t just let him die out there, or worse end up selling his soul. He’s one of the only ones who has spent time- a lot of time- in heaven, he knows what winners need to do to get there. He’s seen the people who’ve made it into heaven and has seen the ones who ended up in hell. He’s valuable not just for being redeemed, but also for information. Just-“ “I understand. If you want I can talk to him about it. I’m sure he won’t want to hear it from me, but it’s probably better to let the idea slip into his mind before throwing him in the deep end about it.” Nette chuckled trying to lighten the mood despite the situation at hand. “Okay, yeah that’s a good idea maybe” Charlie laughed. “I’m supposed to have dinner with him tonight, I’ll bring it up to gauge his opinion on the matter. Test the waters.” Nette pointed at Adam “Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t run out of here. Try to keep him hydrated and well… alive.” Nette said while walking towards the door. She grabbed the door handle when she heard Charlie say “you're eating with my dad?” “Yes, as friends. He often forgets to eat and when I offered to bring him food he asked if I’d join him so I said yes. Is that okay?” Nette was suddenly hesitant on the matter quickly realizing Charlie might not be okay with it due to their current relationship. “Yes, of course it is! I’m just happy he’s opening up a little more. And even more so that he’s doing it with you.” Charlie was smiling. Nette felt herself release the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Oh, okay… yeah I’ll just- yeah? Nette was suddenly a bit flustered. Quickly trying to leave the room.

Nette walked out of the room quietly closing the door behind her before walking down the stairs towards the kitchen. She was stuck heavily in thought about how exactly she was going to tell the king of hell that the man who almost killed his daughter was now in hell, and his daughter was tending to him. And wanted him to stay in the hotel…to be redeemed. The very hotel he destroyed. The hotel he attacked. Yep that was going to be a blast to have to bring up. (sarcasm) Pushing aside those thoughts to focus on cooking she went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Luckily she had set aside some preparations for food that she had made a few days ago. So she could easily cook something for the two of them. She began pulling out the ingredients for the meal before noticing Angel walking into the hotel. Immediately Nette could feel that he was upset. The very way he carried himself told her that much. He was wearing big sunglasses that covered his face. She felt her blood boil at the very thought of the asshole moth demon that Angel called a boss putting his hands on her friend. She felt her worries about telling Lucifer about Adam quickly shift into worry about her friend who was obviously injured, but trying to hide it. Angel had walked towards the entry way into the kitchen silently. Not speaking to Husk or Cherri who were both seated at the bar alongside nifty.

“Angel.” Nette said as he went to pass by. “Yes toots?” Angel said, trying to sound like his usual cheery self. “Would you mind coming in here for a sec?” Nette could see his hesitation. Almost like he dreaded the thought of her trying to ask questions about what had happened. But Nette had learned a long time ago when it came to Angel she couldn’t ask him directly. If he wanted to talk about it he would come to her. She never wanted to push his boundaries about anything. Especially when she knew his boundaries were constantly being ignored when he was in the studio with Val. “Sure” he said before walking in and sitting at the kitchen island. “Do you want to talk about it now or later?” “Talk bout what?” Nette looked pointedly at Angel before deciding whether she would push him on the matter. Ultimately she decided she didn’t want to ask him directly as she could tell that would probably end poorly. “Why you’re wearing glasses when you never do. You’re hiding your pretty face Angel.” Angel looked towards her before sighing. Realizing Nette was one of the few people who he couldn’t hide things from. She could always see through him no matter how thick he tried to make his walls. He took off the glasses and placed them down on the island before facing Nette. As soon as he did Nette could see the deep purple bruise that circled his right eye. She immediately felt her blood boil. How her very fears from earlier had materialized right in font of her. She began thinking of 101 ways she could end that fuckers life as he fucking knew it. How she could kill him slowly with intent and make him rue the day he ever put a hand on Angel. She was deep in thought about offing a particular moth demon that she hadn’t realized Angel had started to cry. This was something Nette had only seen a few times. Upon them getting closer Angel got drunk and spilled everything about what was happening to Nette. All the way down to how he ended up in this situation due to falling in love with the moth demon, and thinking if he gave away his soul that he would be with him forever. In love. In a loving relationship, but that all changed almost immediately after signing away his soul with Val laughing in his face about love. Snapping back into reality at the sound of Angel’s sniffle, Nette immediately turned off the burner and removed the pot from the stove before walking around the counter and gently pulling Angel into a hug. Nette knew she could only offer so much comfort to the spider, but she’d rather offer some than ignore the way he felt and pretend he’s okay. She knew he always wore a mask. A mask to cover up his pain, his suffering, his anger, guilt, lies, fatigue, and even worse to hide his love. As he had been shown too many times in the past about what happens when you love someone. They become your weakness and having a weakness means someone can use it against you.

Nette let Angel cry into her shoulder. Listening to him try to speak in between sobs about what Val had done that day. About what Val had made him do that day. The words Angel said made Nette even more upset about the matter, but all she did was continue to hug him tight. Refusing to be the first to let go. After a bit Angel’s sobs turned to quieter sniffles. Cherri had walked into the kitchen seeing Angel upset and joined into the hug. She had seen him at his lows and highs. As he had done the same for her. As Angel calmed down a bit Nette could tell he was tired. Cherri offered to take him to bed after having a bath which he obliged to while attempting to apologize to Nette. Nette looked at him before gently telling him off “don’t you ever apologize to anyone for having feelings. You don’t ever have to apologize to me for feeling any way. Not even if you're sad, happy, angry, disgusted, fearful, anxious, or even surprised. You have every right to your feelings and have every right to express them.” She continued “ You hold onto too much. Try to let someone share the load. Think of your experiences like rocks. And you have a backpack. Each thing you go through adds a rock to your backpack. Some things are easier and add a rock the size of a pebble, others are harder and add a boulder. Either way holding things in causes your bag to fill up. And eventually the straps snap. No matter how strong you think your bag is, and how much you think you can carry, it will snap. And when it does you will blow up on someone. Someone you care about, and you’ll say something that you can’t take back. No matter how many times you try to, you can’t. Believe me I know. So express your emotions, and stop trying to carry everything on your own. Let your friends help you. You always try to help them so give them a chance to return the favor. Okay?” Nette smiled at him. “Ok, thank you” Angel sniffled “of course, go get cleaned up and head to bed. I can tell you're tired.” Cherri grabbed his hand and walked with Angel towards his room.

Once they had left Nette turned back towards the counter. She made her way back to the other side of the island. To in front of the pot before switching back on the stove going back to cooking. She sighed quietly to herself happy she was able to finally tell Angel something she had wanted to for awhile. She was smiling to herself before realizing she still had to talk to Lucifer about Adam. It was like whiplash how fast her mood changed. Before she realized it she had dropped her head down into her hands. She sighed to herself before deciding she would think about that later and just try to focus on cooking for now. She quickly found her mind wandering to how long it had been since she spoke to Lucifer, and she started worrying if he thought she had forgotten about dinner. She quickly finished up before plating everything and tried to start cleaning up the pots before nifty came in and shooed her away from it saying she would do it. Nette quickly thanked her. Deciding she would let her handle it without arguing she quickly picked up the plates and grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar fridge before walking up the stairs. Making her way back towards Lucifer’s office.

Taglist:

@popamolly @preciousbabypeter @amberforest08

[theoneprecioustome]

P3R Opening Aikoto Thoughts

I finished working so I can finally sink my teeth into this Aigis sequence!

This post will contain spoilers about Persona 3, The Answer and Arena, so it'd probably be a good idea to skip it if you haven't played them yet!

So, first things first:

Aigis' sequence begins with her falling to her knees, looking pretty roughened up. The Moonlight Bridge being the background tells us all we need to know about the setting: this takes place during her battle with Death/Ryoji. As if to make it even more obvious, her sequence directly follows Ryoji's (which, let it be known, is hands-down the best shot in the opening).

Now, the question is... which fight are we witnessing, exactly? As we know, Aigis fights him twice. She fights him as Death 10 years ago, and then as Ryoji during the course of the game.

I think the opening sequence is meant to be the first fight: the one against Death, because we see Aigis falling asleep at the end of it. But I'll get back to that later. For now, assuming that it's that first fight helps contextualize the shots that follow:

Aigis is surrounded by the 13 arcana while the Fool lies right in front of her. The 13 arcana are, of course, the 12 shadows that Death was split into and Death itself.

And this is when the Aikoto comes in, because I believe this sequence is meant to serve two purposes at once: Symbolism and foreshadowing.

On one hand, they symbolize Aigis' meeting with Makoto in the Moonlight Bridge 13 years ago. The Fool represents him, both as the child that she had to seal Death into and as the boy that she swore to protect.

On the other hand, I feel that the fact that they chose to set the scene this way also serves as a nod to The Answer. After all, if this were simply meant to symbolize Aigis sealing Death into Makoto, then Death should've been right in the middle alongside him. Instead it's just The Fool, because the Moonlight Bridge is the place where both — Makoto's and Aigis' journeys began.

And Aigis journey began with Makoto and ended with her becoming the Fool and carrying his legacy.

Coincidentally, these seem to be the lyrics during the portion Aigis is on screen (credit to the Wiki):

No matter how far (No matter how far) How you go (How you go, how you go) How long you may last (F* tears, no time to waste) It's your life, burn your dread

This is not the first time Atlus references The Answer in an Opening. Burn my Dread foreshadows The Answer, and even Our Moment features a reference to it.

As such, it doesn't mean that we will see a The Answer re-release. All it means is that Atlus acknowledges its existence and, above all, the journey that Aigis goes through during it.

Now, back to Makoto! If you look closely at Aigis' expression, you will see that she looks sad, guilty even, as she looks down at the card representing him.

We also see this shot lingering and Aigis' pupil contracting right before she closes her eyes, which to me represents the fact that Makoto — and what she had to do to him — were likely the last thing she thought about before she fell into her deep slumber.

Coincidentally, the only ones that are within Aigis' eye — and thus, her focus — are herself and the Fool.

This, in turn, ties in not only with P3, where Aigis wakes up from her slumber when Makoto arrives to Yakushima:

It also ties in with The Answer:

And even with Arena. After all, thanks to Arena, we have an idea of what it is that Aigis thought about as she fell into her deep slumber. Or rather, what she wished for:

Aigis' sequence in the opening (the longest one after Makoto, if I'm not mistaken), ends with her falling asleep, her Papillon Heart shining brightly in the dark.

And of course, once she finally opens her eyes 10 years later, we get...

[rancidpancakebatter]

Choose Me (Fix It)-[P.P.]

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Trouble in paradise and the Green Goblin, what could possibly go wrong? (Everything...everything can go wrong)

Word Count: 5.5k words

Content: Swearing, Mentions of pregnancy, Mentions of Miscarages, Near-death experience, Hospitals, Happy ending

( Masterlist )

A/N: @thoserthebestkind I hope this is a sufficient fix-it. I apologise that it took me so long to make this, to be completely candid I forgot, lol. 

I changed the formatting a bit and there were some minor revisions to the original story. 

I added a cute text break to indicate transitions from past and present. 

I hope you like the little epilogue :))

Life was cruel sometimes. That was the only thought you could think as you felt this crushing weight on your chest. You could slightly make out someone calling your name; you turned your head around looking for the source. 

“No, don’t move, it’s okay. Just stay there. Stay right there.” His voice sounded strained, he was grunting. You saw him then. The red and blue suit and pale white eyes staring back at you. Stuck under rubble and debris. Trying his best to pull himself up was Spider-Man, Peter Parker. Your Peter Parker. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You thought back to just this morning. You had woken up to an empty bed, something you hated saying you were used to. You checked your phone, first checking to see if your husband had tried to reach out to you at all. When that came up empty you checked Twitter to see if there were any updates on Spider-Man. 

Anytime you saw he was trending you felt your heart in your throat. Worried that this time it wouldn’t be because he stopped some super-something-or-rather, but because it had stopped him. Luckily there was nothing there either. Just silence. 

You began getting ready, showering, brushing your teeth, and making breakfast. You were getting dressed when you heard your window open. You ignored the man and his quiet footsteps, focusing on choosing a jacket. 

You felt his arms circle your waste as his chin came to rest on your shoulder. “Good morning, beautiful.”

You felt anger burn in your chest at his nonchalantness. “Where were you, Peter?” 

He released you from his grasp, knowing that tone all too well now. “I was patrolling.”

His reply came out dry and tired. You fixed your blazer before turning to face him. He looked mostly intact, there was a small bruise on his jaw but other than that he seemed fine. 

“All night?” You were aggravated. You were tired of having this conversation with him. 

He brought his hand up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Yes, all night. Do you think I was doing something else?”

You clenched your jaw, counting to three, just like your marriage councillor taught you. 

“No,” You said curtly, “I know that’s what you were doing because that’s what you’re always doing. You’re never here because you’re always patrolling.”

Peter shook his head letting out a humourless laugh. “Yeah? Well, why would I be here? For the past three months, it’s just been this!” He threw his finger quickly between the two of you. 

You let out a dry chuckle of your own, looking up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “Right, and that’s completely my fault, isn’t it?”

Peter didn’t say anything, just looking at you with dead eyes. Ones that used to be so full of love you almost couldn’t stand to look at them. Ones that used to crinkle when he laughed, he didn’t do that so much anymore. 

He was right, you guys had been fighting a lot. Something you never used to do. Being with Peter was one of the easiest decisions you had ever made in your life. He got you, in a way no other person could. There was no need to quarrel because you guys were always on the same page. 

When Peter told you he was Spider-Man it scared you. You had been dating for a year and studying with him for two. He had cancelled on you again. You shook with anger and confusion. Midterms were coming up and you needed to get good grades to keep your scholarship. You had been so stressed out and Peter promised to help. He promised.

“What could possibly be more important than this?” You remember shouting at him. You watched as he ran his hands through his hair before grabbing his backpack and leaving with a small, “I’m sorry.”

That night he returned to you, early in the morning. He sat you down and broke the news to you. At first, you were in disbelief but he made his point by jumping up and hanging from the ceiling by his fingertips. 

Your brain started connecting the dots. All the times he seemed to be covered in bruises only for them to disappear a day later, making you think you must have dreamed them. Peter’s absence during big events only for Spider-Man to appear, saving the day. His constant tardiness. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You had started crying and he quickly let go of the ceiling and sat next to you on the sofa. He pulled you into his lap and began caressing your hair. He wasn’t sure what you were feeling but he wanted to make it better. 

“That’s how I lost her.” Gwen. You never knew her but he had mentioned her before. He had brought her up in that first year of college. He had brought her up again before you had agreed to date him. He told you that she had died. He told you that he was scared. You understood now, of course, you didn’t have the whole picture but you had enough. 

Your worry for Peter never diminished, if anything it grew. The longer you were together the more you loved him and the more you loved him the more you saw a future with him. But it’s hard to plan for a future when your partner is mindlessly chasing some abomination through the streets of New York. And worry can be masked by many emotions, mainly anger. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You heard a sardonic cackle in the air above you. “Oh Peter, won’t you save her?” 

You didn’t like the way he said his name. That wasn’t for him to say. You heard some heavy steps, then metal colliding with something before Peter groaned. You mustered as much energy as you could.

“Leave- leave him alone!” It wasn’t very loud but the attacker heard you. You listened as heavy steps came towards you.

Your vision was blurry but you made out big blond hair, cold blue eyes, and a pale face with lots of veins. His suit seemed metallic and hefty. He squatted down, closer now, grabbing your face; his fingers digging into your cheeks. It hurt. 

“Oh, Peter dear!” He sang in a nasal tone, “Ms Lady doesn’t look too hot over here. You might want to hurry up!” He called the last part over his shoulder.  He was mocking Peter and it made you angry. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

three months ago you held a pregnancy test in your shaking hands. Your palms were so sweaty that you dropped the box twice trying to open it. You were three weeks late and you ran to the bodega down the street as soon as you realised. 

You and Peter had been married for three years now. You had made it through college, a teaching licence and many monsters together. You were nervous, to say the least. You wanted a family with Peter. You loved the man and you knew how important family was to him. You wanted to be able to give him that. 

You twisted the rings on your fingers waiting for your timer to go off. You admired the small diamond on your engagement ring. It was Aunt Mays. She had given it to Peter to propose with. He told you later that he hadn’t even considered it until she did, but then he realised that marrying you was all he wanted to do. Your heart melted at the thought. 

It was positive. 

Your anxiety grew tenfold at the realization. You were going to have a baby. You were going to have a baby with your amazing husband. You were going to start a family. But if he wasn’t more careful he wasn’t going to be around to see it. 

You told May. You had to. You were dying to tell someone but also you wanted to tell her. She had become a mother to you in a lot of ways over the years and you were delighted to tell her she was going to be a grandmother. She wasn't thrilled about Peter not knowing but also understood that you were scared. 

Now you were too busy fighting to tell him. Too scared that he hated you too much now to want you. Terrified because when you told him it would be real. 

You convinced Peter that you should do some couples counselling and he hated the idea but agreed to do it. You needed help to tell him, but it never came up. Between the therapist trying to figure out what Peter’s second “job” was and you two snipping at each other, not much progress was made. 

“We pay this guy up the ass and it doesn’t seem to be helping!” Peter once said to you. Silent tears fell down your face, unsure how to defend it without coming clean about lying to him for a month.

“It’s only, like, a hundred a session. That’s not so bad.” You were wringing your hands in the cold December air. Something Peter usually picked up on, but not lately. 

“Yeah, well so far I don’t think I’ve gotten my 300 dollars worth.” 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

“Don't fucking touch her!” Peter sounded distressed and you wanted to fix it, but you were useless in this situation.

You felt a dull ache throughout your body. You remembered then, the baby. You looked down at the debris littering your body and began to cry. There’s no way they survived this, you would be lucky to. 

Peter heard your hiccuping and it seemed that’s all he needed. He broke free from the rubble and when he saw Harry’s hands on you his vision clouded with red. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You remembered this morning. Peter staring at you from the edge of your bed three feet away but never feeling so far. You balled your fists taking a shuddery breath. “I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to choose me.” 

And with that, you grabbed your coat and walked out the door. You had been fighting about his Peter-to-Spider-Man ratio a lot lately. You wanted Peter home more, and safe. He said he couldn’t just tell crime to stop, so he had to keep going out. You were arguing in circles and it was getting you nowhere. 

Your whole day at work you were a snivelling mess. The kids didn’t complain as you declared it a video day, each class loving the selection of Bill Nye videos you had chosen. You were about to leave the campus to get some lunch when you heard a knock on your classroom door. You wiped your tears and beckoned them in. 

Peter was still in his lab coat, probably rushing over here from his day job. Usually, you would swoon at the sight of him but you were still very upset and maybe a little hangry (and quite possibly pretty hormonal as well). You crossed your arms in your chair and said nothing as he came closer. 

“Darling,” He began. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

His eyes held a certain softness that had almost become alien to you. The coldness you had become accustomed to now melted into gentle, dark chocolate. You tried to keep your stare stern as he continued walking toward you. 

“You’re right, I-” He stopped abruptly, his face falling from neutral to distressed very quickly. You pulled your brows together in confusion, unable to keep your face level. 

“Have you been crying?” You looked away embarrassed. You were angry and you didn’t want him to see you weak. Suddenly, he was on his knees in front of you. 

“Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry. I- I made you cry at work. Well…crying at all is bad but this is really bad.” You refuse to look at him as you feel new tears fall. Your door unexpectedly creeps open. 

“Mrs Parker, are you in here? Mrs- Oh, sorry I didn’t know you were busy.” You look past Peter to see a student in the doorway.

Travis Deakin was an odd kid, he wore a flat cap and a Minecraft creeper hoodie every day, with his trapper keeper strap slung across his chest. He was weird and someone you would have found annoying when you were his age, but he was kind and did his work on time.  

“It’s quite alright Travis, I’m never too busy for my favourite student.” Peter shifted to sit beside you on his haunches, admiring how you treated your students. You noticed Travis was staring at Peter and decided to introduce them, “Travis, this is my husband, Mr Parker.”

You watched as the boy gave Peter a small wave and Peter returned it. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I just want to make sure you were okay.” 

You tilted your head and quirked a brow, “Of course, I’m okay.”

“It’s just…everyone’s said they’ve seen you crying today.” Travis was playing with the strap of his trapper keeper as if worried about getting in trouble for saying it.  

You gave the kid a genuine smile, “I’m okay, I promise. Thank you though. That’s very kind of you to check on me.”

You tried to ignore Peter staring at you, knowing his expression would be filled with guilt. Travis didn’t seem convinced and chewed on his bottom lip as if debating whether to say something else. You sat, patiently waiting. 

“Is it because you’re pregnant?” Your jaw dropped, your mouth flapping like a fish as you stuttered over what to say.

“I-well I- um, Trevor that’s…um” Peter cut you off before you could conjure up an excuse.

“You’re pregnant?” Peter’s face was back in front of yours. You couldn’t quite read his expression and you didn’t think you wanted to. You looked back at the kid who now seemed alarmed looking between you and Peter. 

“Um, Trevor why- why would you think I’m pregnant?” You watched as he shuffled from foot to foot, Peter unmoving and hands on your waist. 

“Well, you seem really happy, and you hold your belly a lot when you talk…and I heard Ms Kragger say you are.” You chuckled before letting out a sigh. You looked into Peter’s eyes smiling. 

“Yes, It’s because I’m pregnant.” You had never seen Peter smile so wide, you think he created more dimples. He picked you up from the chair spinning you around. You giggled in glee as he brought you in for a kiss. 

“God, I’m so happy. I love you so much.” You giggled and Trevor excused himself, shutting the door. 

“I love you too, Peter.” You ran a hand through his hair, soaking in the sweetness you had been deprived of. His smile faltered slightly as he searched your eyes. 

“How long have you known?” You looked away from him, ashamed.

“Three months,” You said in a voice so small that he wasn’t sure he would have caught it without his supersonic hearing. 

You watched in horror as Peter fell to his knees, his head carefully buried in your stomach. 

“I’m so sorry. You’ve been so worried about me and I just-” You massaged his scalp, trying to ignore his tears wetting your shirt.

“Peter, it’s okay. It’s okay, love-” He raised his head, shaking it furiously from side to side before resting his chin on your belly. 

“It’s not, but please know I choose you (Y/n). I’ll always choose you.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● 

You couldn’t move your hands. You couldn’t feel them much either. You wanted to push the rocks off of you, to curl up and hold your stomach. You knew realistically the baby was gone but you couldn’t let yourself think that. 

Tears of frustration racked through you as you tried your best to move. You heard Peter and that guy fighting, they were talking but you couldn’t make it out. You were scared. You didn’t want to die, and certainly not like this. Peter needed you and you couldn’t leave him, not yet. There was still so much you wanted to do. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

“We should make a bucket list!” Peter chuckled from the kitchen, where he was washing plates from dinner. He stepped over to the coffee table and sat beside you on the floor. 

“Why? Planning on dying anytime soon?” You shoved his shoulder with yours.

“No, never, but I think it would be fun.” You grab a notebook and pen from your backpack, labelling it "Future Parkers' Bucket List." He smiled and you continued to scribble things down as he peered over your shoulder. 

“Hey, that one doesn’t count,” Peter said pointing to the first thing you wrote down: “Marry Peter Parker.”

“Yeah, it does! It’s important when making goals that you also have mid-goals and easily obtainable ones, so you don’t get bogged down by a lack of progress.” Peter relented and continued moving down the list, reading them out loud.

“‘Own five plants at the same time and keep them alive for at least a year’, ‘Learn to drive a manual', ‘Go on a hike’-Have you never been hiking before?” You shook your head no and Peter continued.

“‘Win one honest game of chess against Peter’. Yeah, keep dreaming, love. ‘Vacation on a different continent’, ‘Own a pet named Pancake’, ‘Learn the Footloose Dance’” Peter’s smile doubled as he read the last one. 

“We can get this one done now,” He said with a wolfish grin. Peter ran to grab his laptop and set it up on the entertainment system. He then turned to grab your hand and lifted you from the floor. Your chest blossomed with love as he brought your ringed finger to his lips, giving you a soft kiss there. 

One hour and three dance tutorials later you had both mastered the moves, you continued dancing around your living room when Peter declared, “We should play this at the wedding!”

You laughed but it was still played. You let Peter lead you to the dance floor once again as he now placed a kiss on your wedding band. You and Peter were the only ones there that knew it besides Aunt May and a few of your uncles. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You cried harder as you realized your life was flashing before your eyes. That wasn’t good. Neither was the coldness you felt seeping into your bones. All you could do was lay there…and die.

There was no second wind, no sudden powers coming, no way to pull yourself out, no chance. Your eyes felt heavy and you knew what that meant. You closed them smiling as your memories continued to bring you peace. 

Your wedding vows came to mind: 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, I promise to love you and cherish you every day. I promise to support you in all your endeavours. I promise to be the love of your life for the rest of your life. You have been my best friend for these past six years and I couldn’t imagine anyone taking your place. When life gets hard I promise to be there. When money gets tight I promise to make you fancy ramen. With kindness, selflessness, and trust, I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together.”

Had you done that? You had loved him for sure. Did you cherish him enough? Were you supportive and kind and selfless and trusting? You did your best. You worried now that it hadn’t been enough. And there was no time to fix it. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Four hours ago Peter returned home early from patrol. You were grading papers and distracted. Suddenly your vision was filled with roses, and you turned to see your adoring husband behind you. 

“Roses? For me?” You held your hand over your heart and released a dramatic gasp. 

“But of course!” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead. You began tearing up. 

“Oh, baby, You shouldn’t have!” Peter, confused by your sudden tears, squatted beside you in your chair to move some hair out of your face. 

“Oh, I definitely should have. It’s the least I can do for my darling. You deserve much more than twelve. More like a hundred, a thousand!” You chuckled at his dramatics. 

“Sounds expensive,” You joked, bringing a hand up to hold his cheek. He leaned into it, pretending to consider it. 

“Hmm, would you settle for five hundred?” You giggled pecking him on the cheek, before getting up to put them in a vase. 

Peter trailed behind you as you made your way to the kitchen. 

“I wanna take you out to dinner tonight.” You placed the vase down and looked at him carefully. 

“Peter Parker, are you asking me out on a date?” One thing that had never changed was how much you guys loved to tease each other. You imagined that you would be in a nursing home swapping quips and the thought warmed your heart. 

Peter walked to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and say yes?”

An hour ago you were sitting at a nice restaurant. You hesitated when getting dressed, your baby bump becoming a little harder to hide. You settled on a dress that didn’t hug you too tightly and greeted your husband in the living room. 

Peter assured you that you could have anything you wanted. You had ordered dessert first and when the waiter offered you wine Peter shooed him away so quickly you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Peter he’s allowed to offer, it’s his job. I’m pretty sure you scared him.” Peter was still glaring daggers at the poor server who had made his way to a different table. 

“Good! You shouldn't offer pregnant people wine, is he crazy?”

You reached across the table to grab his hands, bringing his attention back to you. After hearing what your student said today, Peter realized he was the dumbest person in the world. All the signs were right in front of him, he was just too blind to see them. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to you. 

“I love you (F/n) (M/n) Parker.” You felt pride and love blossom within you, warming your cheeks. 

“I Love y-”

An explosion went off and Peter was quick to his feet. He gave you a look and you nodded knowing what he needed to do. Everyone began to evacuate and you got lost in the sea of people. Once outside you saw the fire in the distance. Suddenly all you could think of was Peter. You ran towards the building seeing Peter battling some dude on a hoverboard. 

Everything happened so quickly. He was thrown to the ground and you heard a snap. You yelled for him and then you heard another explosion, and another, and another. Before you knew it the building in front of you was falling. Coming directly for you and Peter. He was trying to push himself off the ground but he wasn’t moving fast enough. You began to run towards him, to use your body to shield him. You couldn’t lose him, not after everything. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You felt a hand on your face, wiping at your tears, “Hey, hey! (Y/n) look at me. Open your eyes, come on look at me!” 

You tried your best, but your head hurt and your vision was cloudy. You could make out the soft umber eyes of your lover, filled with tears. His face was covered in grime. You felt enormous pressure taken off of you as you heard rocks tumble to the ground. 

You took a deep shuddery breath, your lungs felt like they were on fire. You tried getting up but Peter gently pushed you down. “No, no, stay there it’s- it’s okay.” 

You tried moving every muscle in your body, but the only one that could move was your left hand. You brought it up to cradle his face. Peter gripped it so hard you thought it might snap. There was blood on his hand and you began to panic. 

“You- your bleeding?” It came out more of a question. A sob racked through his body as he looked at you. You followed his gaze seeing a piece of steel rebar cutting through your stomach. 

You started crying again, “The baby…” 

It was too much. You had a whole future ahead of you. One filled with laughter and Peter chasing around your toddler and Aunt May spoiling them with gifts. One filled with dogpiling in bed because of a nightmare. One filled with you and Peter. 

You heard sirens in the distance. And Peter looked up, a small smile on his face, “It’s gonna be okay, they’re coming.” 

You felt bad leaving him like this but you couldn’t keep fighting to stay. You were tired, you felt heavy, and you wanted to rest. 

“I love you, Peter Parker” Your head rolled to the side too tired to keep it upright. You felt his hand rush to your face lifting it for you. 

“No, no, no! (Y/n)! (Y/n) look at me!” You couldn’t, not anymore. 

Your eyes were too heavy. You gathered everything you had left and squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry.” 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

The first thing you remember feeling was a deep pressure in your head. It felt as if your brain had quadrupled in size and now was splitting your skull. Then you felt an itch in your nose, an irritation in your nostrils. Your entire body felt sore but as you focused you felt them moving and contracting, so that’s good. 

You brought a hand up to scratch your nose and felt hard plastic against your fingers. You went to move it but a hand stopped you. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t move that, let me get a doctor.” Her hands were soft, and her cadence was one you recognised well. 

You tried to open your eyes but everything was too bright. You groaned as the fluorescent beams attacked your retinas, bringing your arm up to block them. You felt a twinge in the crook of your elbow and were able to make out an I.V. in your arm. You looked to the door and saw May smile as she flicked the lights off for you, before assuring you she would be right back. 

You took a moment to take in your surroundings. By your bedside table, there were many bouquets of flowers in all shapes, sizes, and colours. As you took around the rest of the room you realised flowers were everywhere around the space. You were surrounded by a small garden, and it brought a small smile to your face. 

Behind the jungle of flora, there was a chair and a small couch made up like a bed. Neither of them looked particularly comfortable. There was a book resting atop the messy sheets but from here you couldn’t see what it was. 

You didn’t get to dwell on it long. You heard a commotion in the hallway. Fast, heavy footsteps approached as several people exclaimed for the offender to slow down. You felt panic rising as you heard the EKG machine beep faster. Your brain conjured up a terrifying scenario in which the ghostly man from before had come to finish you off. 

A silhouette entered the door frame and froze. You both locked eyes, in a state of disbelief. As he stepped closer your heart rate continued to gallop, but instead of fear, you felt love. 

“(Y/N)?” He sounded broken, desperate. You could hear the rasp in his throat and you wondered why his vocal cords were in such a state. 

He moved to your bedside before falling to his knees. His hands wrapped around yours before burying his face in them. You felt the wetness on his face and watched as his shoulders shook. 

“You- you woke up. We didn’t know if you would. I- I thought I lost you. Fuck, I thought I lost you. The doctors said they didn’t know if you were gonna wake up. I thought you were gone.” Words fell from Peter’s mouth like a waterfall. You tried to pull him from the waters before he drowned. 

“Pete, I’m right here.” Your voice was just as wrecked as his, but you knew yours was due to inactivity. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

You squeezed his hands as he continued to sob. Your heart shattered seeing him like this. Peter had been through so much, experienced more loss than any one human should. You felt almost guilty for making him face that fear once again. You brought his hands up and held them to your lips, trying to piece him back together as best as you could. 

May returned with a doctor and Peter refused to step away, forcing the doctor to do his examination around him. You had broken a few bones and you had a concussion but that was expected. They had to perform surgery on your wound, though with rest and plenty of pain meds, you should be fine. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but unfortunately, due to the nature of the trauma you endured, your baby did not survive.” Peter held you as you cried together. You knew it was ridiculous to hope that they might, but you couldn’t help it. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

“Peter! Are you almost ready?” You called across the house. 

“Yeah! Just a second!” You heard him call back from the bedroom. 

You were setting up a camera in the living room when you heard him emerge. You gasped as you took in his costume. He was dressed as Jack Sparrow, complete with a wig and hat. 

“Oh, Pete you look great,” You said as you walked over to your beloved husband. He pulled you in close as your hands came up to cradle his face, gracing him with a loving kiss. His grin was blinding as he pulled away. 

“Just wait till you see Benny’s.” He moved to stand beside you as he called out to your son. 

His small frame emerged from the doorway with a dramatic jump and pose. He really was his father’s son. His face was twisted into a silly sneer with his finger curved in the shape of a hook, “Arg!”

You clapped in glee, then bent down with open arms. Ben ran to them and you rested him on your hip. “Oh wow Benny, you look so cool!” 

He had declared that everyone would dress as characters from Pirates of the Caribbean after watching it for the first time a few months ago. Your boys had wanted to surprise you, which meant they had to elicit the help of Aunt May for their costumes. Benny was Davey Jones because he thought he was cool. He wore a beard of stuffed tentacles on his face but you could tell by the scrunch of his eyes he was beaming underneath. 

“You too, Momma!” You tilted his hat up to place a kiss on his forehead. He places his small, gentle hands on your cheeks and you let him angle your head down so he could leave you one there too. 

He wanted Peter to hold him for the photo and reached out for him as you stood in front of your mantle. The camera flashed as you all posed. You pressed the shutter another time as you and Peter smooshed your son’s face with your lips, Ben’s giggle ringing through the air. 

Peter set down Ben and told him to get his candy basket. As soon as Benny made his way down the hall Peter grabbed your waist and the back of your head and dipped you. He brought his lips to yours and you heard the camera shutter go off again. You looked into the eyes of your husband and saw nothing but pure adoration. 

“I love you (F/n) (M/n) Parker.” You grinned. 

“I love you, Peter Benjamin Parker.” He pulled you into another kiss. 

“Ew!” You broke away from each other, laughing at your son covering his eyes.

Peter lifted you back up before crouching low and scooping up your child, hanging him upside down as he tickled his sides. “No, you’re ew!”

You chuckled as they seemed lost in their own little world for a moment. You hated to interrupt it, but you caught a glimpse of the clock. 

“Alright boys, we have to leave now if we wanna catch May before she goes to sleep.” Peter sighed setting down Ben. 

You watched as Benny put his pudgy hand in Peters, “Come on, Daddy. I wanna see Gamma.” 

Peter smiled wide as he allowed his son to pull him to the door, “Yeah, let’s go see Gamma.”

They took a few steps forward before Peter stopped, extending his hand to you. You placed your hand in his as you walked to the door. You rested your other hand on your stomach, wishing the little one inside you could hear this. That they knew they would be loved, so loved. You hoped they knew how amazing their father was. 

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @heejinw0rld, @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

I think I finally got all of my tags sorted but if you think a mistake was made please dm me or fill out the tag list form linked in my masterlist. (I really suggest you look at the masterlist bc it sorts it easier and you get more options)

[rorapostsbl]

krishna x arjun.

part 2.

“O Daruka, I shall not be able to cast my eyes, even for a single moment, on the earth bereft of Arjuna.”

krishna had the habit of sticking to his words. his promises. this was a rather simple one. he wouldn't, couldn't live a moment without arjun by his side on earth. he fulfilled his word.

he left before he'd have to witness time take away the only one that held his heart in their hands.

he couldn't bare the sight of arjun on earth either, each stumbling step of the other was a dagger straight into his own being— he could feel the desperation clinging and wearing out his parth, fighting to find his way out and towards krishna.

he couldn't interfere with it, he knew. but he could tweak with it. and so, he closed his eyes briefly, calling upon all the grief clinging onto arjun's body.

-

life felt bereft of meaning for arjun. the sun didn't shine as brightly anymore, flowers were dull and lacked their scent. the trees looked grey and his food felt ash— what little of it he could have anyway.

he had lost his powers. his ability to protect, preserve and save anyone from danger and harm. he felt hollow from within, his soul that madhav had taken with him to his abode.

that night he went to bed, his eyes restless and burning with lack of proper sleep. instead of his pricking bed and internal frustration, he could feel himself loosen up the moment his back touched the bed.

it was almost as if— as if he could feel his madhav's finger trail down his arms, working out the knots and the scratches that had bled. he fell asleep almost immediately, the familiar waft of parijat lulling him away from the world and it's troubles.

-

the way back to his other half would rather be a tough one, he had realised. but it wouldn't be the one to stop him either, he had vowed. and so then they set off towards the himalayas.

all arjun wished for was those strong, sturdy arms to engulf him again. for those twinkling eyes to grace his being and put his soul to rest.

-

when his end came near, arjun gladly crossed the bridge that had held him away from his beloved. he didn't feel any remorse— only his need to find krishna amplified.

“madhav?” arjun had called, desperate and searching. his feet led him to somewhere and nowhere— nothing could be seen, not a sign of life, flowers or peace.

empty, it was all empty.

the similar feeling of frustration knocked over him, where was he?

“krishna,” he called out, his voice cracking at the end. he just wanted to be reunited with his madhav, just for once.

and then, suddenly — a bright light flashed, blinded him with its radiance and he was knocked out.

-

“oh, priyatama.” krishna said, hands brushing away the curls that stuck to his arjuna's forehead.

“you're finally here,” he whispered as he felt the missing piece of his heart slot itself back together. the flowers bloomed, spread out their alluring scent. the trees buffed up with their leaves. everything slotted right back into its place — and krishna could finally breathe again.

the moment he let go of his hand connecting him to arjun's sleeping form, the call of his name reverberated, loud and clear. he looked down, startled, at arjun's still asleep body.

it caught him off-guard before he chuckled, eyes fond and loving as he shifted, placing his hands on arjun's feet and began massaging them, slowly. he did so until he fell asleep himself.

and then,

“madhav?” he was shook awake, wide, curious and doubtful eyes staring right back into his.

he blinked, still unaware whether it was a fragment of his imagination or his reality, away from the clutches of maya.

“parth,” he breathed, felt the burden come off his shoulders as his ears were blessed with the voice they craved to hear for so long.

and then, he was tackled right into the ground, his priyatama right ontop of him. arjun was rather angry it seemed, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he glared down at him and for once, krishna felt raw terror rush through him at the sight of his beloved's anger.

he certainly didn't want to be soaked in rain just so soon.

“you,” a finger jabbed right onto where his heart was, beating for arjuna.

“how dare you leave me alone?” another jab and ouch. that hurt.

what hurt more was the obvious pain in arjun's eyes, reflecting so clearly back onto his own. his arjun, perched ontop of his thighs, curls framing his face as angry hot tears ran down his face, eyes red rimmed. his lips had been bitten red, too.

it was clearer now, much up close and near at how hard had his parth taken the hit of his absence. he felt so much lighter, collarbones peaking out, eyes sunken in. his face had lost its boyish charm and replaced it with desperation and anxiety.

“you left me all alone madhav. how could you? how could you bare the thought of me living a moment without you?” arjun heaved between his own sobs, days of frustration and longing finally being poured out and onto it's rightful owner. the cause of it all.

“oh. priye,” krishna whispered, pouring all his love into those words as he reached up, abit hesitant, before placing his palms onto arjun's cheeks, thumbs catching the tear drops.

even his tear drops could be stored as diamonds, any other luxury that one could just wish to have.

his touch calmed arjun enough for the tears to stop flowing. then only had the painful clenching of his heart had finally dispersed, untangling it's vein as he saw light return into his beloved's eyes.

“sometimes,” he began, hands settling on arjun's waist as he pulled him closer, feeling the brush of those curls graze his face, delicate in their being. the sigh of relief that left arjun at the faint contact drawed all the tension out of krishna's shoulders too.

“sometimes,” he repeated, blinking away the daze of bliss that had surrounded them, “there are situations that lie out of my control. i do not wish to interfere with destiny and time itself unless it is necessary, parth.”

arjun nodded once, before leaning in closer, much closer than they had ever been previously. a shiver of anticipation went through him when arjun's breath hit him just for him to dip below and settle in his cavicle.

krishna's ears burned red at his fleeting imagination — feeling the brush of stubble against his torso as arjun snuggled in closer, dropping his weight fully onto krishna.

not that he ever complained. instead, he drew his hands around the other's waist, running a soothing hand upon his back as he pressed a kiss into those curly, brown locks.

“i hope i am forgiven then?” he asked, waiting with a bated breath and a fist full of curls in his hand, fingers automatically starting to work into the skin, massaging and drawing away years worth of fighting and pain.

“who said i was ever angry on you?” came back the muffled reply.

krishna simply held him even closer, vowing to never let go of his arjun ever again.

afterall, he was a man of his words.