#we can call them a canon couple now right? like i think this is as blatant as a Sonic couple gets

[sage-nebula]

Whispangle moments big & small in IDW #61, complete with a canonical lesbian flag background. HAPPY PRIDE!!! 🧡🤍💖

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

[kathrahender]

"They're abusive" "They're toxic" "They hurt each other" "You're normalizing abusive/toxic relationships" "You're normalizing abuse"

I'm really really tired of people calling "toxic/abusive" some ships I like. People -and I'm being serious with this question- do you even understand the definition of a "toxic couple"??? First, to be in a toxic/abusive relationship, the two characters have to be romantically involved. Dabihawks, Bakudeku, Harringrove, Cherik and other ships mentioned in the tags were in a romantic relationship when they hurt each other? No. Not at all. Therefore, they're not a toxic couple.

Secondly, even if they were in a romantic relationship (like Catradora/Reylo), see when they become a couple. Catra and Adora, for example, only became girlfriends after Catra's redemption and after she apologized. And after they kissed, we don't see Catra/Adora being toxic/abusive towards each other. Reylo also didn't become canon until the third movie, and we don't see Kylo Ren being toxic/abusive towards Rey. Actually, we see him saving her life willingly, and not to manipulate her. He saved her life because he loved her. So calling Catradora/Reylo toxic/abusive is also wrong.

Third, people who criticize us for shipping them, and who call the ship abusive, do you even know how the "enemies/rivals-to-lovers" trope works???? Because the purpose of an enemies-to-lovers ship is one character changing from "I want to kill you" to "I love you", and changing from hurt their enemy to protect their partner. A lot of the ships I mentioned in the tags were enemies when they hurt each other. And like I said in a previous post, you're not supposed to treat your enemy/rival nicely, you're not supposed to treat them like a friend or a lover. You're supposed to treat them like someone you hate. Like someone you want to see destroyed. And if you don't understand the thing called "character development", it's not our fault.

"Bakugo and Deku weren't enemies when Bakugo hurt Deku". Yeah, I know. They weren't enemies. But they weren't people who liked each other neither, right? No matter what you say, they weren't exactly in good terms. And no matter how many times you say it's abusive, the only way "Bakudeku" can be abusive is if they were in a relationship in school, when Bakugo was bullying him. Now that would be a toxic relationship. But Bakudeku being toxic after Bakugo's development (because yes, he had development, and if you deny it you didn't understand his character at all) and after Bakugo's apology is bullshit.

So people, before you call one of these ships "toxic" think about it. Because these ships aren't toxic. You know what's a toxic ship? Joker x Harley Quinn. That's an actual toxic couple. Not Catradora, nor Zutara, nor Zukka, nor Jetko, nor any ship mentioned in the tags. The only way they can be "toxic" is if the writers of the show decided to make them be together and decided to make them abusive, or if a writer of a fic made it a toxic ship.

And even if they were a toxic ship in the canon (what they definitely aren't), you have no right to call people "abuse apologists" or things like that. You don't know them, and liking a toxic/abusive relationship doesn't define what they support/they're against in real life.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

What Is and What Never Should Be | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: Dean's an alcoholic dick, coping with trauma from a sexual assault, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of suicide but like not really cause it’s in a dream, canon violence, canon gore (take care of yourselves, as always. Love you guys.)

Word Count: 5281

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About two weeks had passed since you’d left Deacon’s prison. You were convinced it was the hardest two weeks of your life. You couldn’t quite decide if you wanted Dean hugging you all the time, or if you never wanted anyone to touch you again. It felt like every time you looked in the mirror, you were in that disheveled prison guard outfit again, tears streaming down your face with fresh scrapes trailing down your arm. You felt like you were never going to leave the prison’s parking lot.

It definitely didn’t help that you were also having to deal with being fugitives simultaneously. Sam and Dean were waiting for you back at the motel. You put the two of them on a strict lockdown given their mugshots would be everywhere, and the feds hadn’t seemed to find a clear enough image of you to post yours. You drove the Impala around the area of your newest hunt searching for a potential location the victims could have been brought to while the boys researched back in their motel room. 

You knew Dean could tell you were pulling away from him, and you knew it was hurting him. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t let him in right now. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems given Sam was supposed to be the main concern right now and evading federal agents was a huge priority. You needed to deal with your issues in silence in order to keep yourself from completely breaking down in front of the boys and pulling focus away from what you believed were more pressing issues.

Your phone rang and broke you out of your thoughts. It was Sam’s number. “Hello?” you said into the phone.

“Hey. Got you on speaker,” he replied. “There’s a cop car outside.”

“You think it’s for us?” you questioned.

“I don't know.”

“I don't see how,” Dean jumped in, his voice a little distant. “I mean we ditched the plates, the credit cards.”

Sam breathed out suddenly. “They're leaving. False alarm.”

“Well, see. Nothing to worry about,” Dean jested.

“Yeah, being fugitives? Friggin’ dance party,” Sam deadpanned.

“Hey, man, chicks dig the danger vibe,” Dean commented.

You scoffed. “Got anything yet?” you asked the boys.

“Just one thing. I'm pretty sure of it now. We're hunting a Djinn,” Sam answered.

“Really? How do you know?” you questioned.

“A freaking genie?” Dean asked simultaneously. “What? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Quran.”

“And where do these guys shack up?” you asked. 

“Ruins usually. Uh, bigger the better; more places to hide,” Sam replied.

Something struck you. “Y’know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I'm gonna go check it out.”

“Hell no, (Y/N),” Dean stated, voice suddenly much closer to the phone. “You’re not goin’ without us.”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around,” you argued. 

“I’ll call you guys when I’m headed back.” Despite the voices of the Winchesters protesting, you hung up the phone and turned the Impala around. 

Minutes later, you came upon a decaying factory. Doors squeaked on their hinges as you pushed through them and decades-old papers crunched beneath your feet like fallen leaves. Everything seemed very empty and very abandoned, but you weren’t quite convinced. You headed deeper into the factory past several offices with smashed windows on their doors and blinds hanging crookedly. 

Suddenly, something grabbed you and pinned you to the wall behind you. You dropped the flashlight you were holding as the Djinn pinned your hand above your head. You got a clear look at the monster in front of you; a bald man with curling blue tattoos detailing his face and body. You struggled against him, trying to get your knife through his chest with your free hand, but he pinned that one as well. The eyes before you began to glow an electric blue, and your entire body went numb.

*** The next time you woke up, you were alone in a comfortable bed. You jerked up, turned on the lamp next to you, and took in the room around you. There were scrubs tossed on the back of a rocking chair in the corner of the room and a picture of you and Dean hung on the far wall. 

‘What the fu—’ you thought. 

Suddenly, a shirtless Dean entered the room wearing sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean!” you exclaimed. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

He eyed you strangely and snorted. “Wha— What do you mean?”

“Where are we?” you asked.

Dean paused, still standing in the doorway and taken aback. “Uh, our house?”

“What?” you questioned.

“Babe, are you feeling okay?” he questioned, sitting on the bed next to you. “I knew your shift at the hospital was bad, but—”

“Wait, what? I don’t work in a hospital, I was hunting a Djinn—” 

Dean cut you off. “You were probably just having a bad dream, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

You weren’t quite sure what Dean was talking about or if this was even Dean. Maybe  he’d been possessed, maybe you’d been— ‘Wait,’ you thought. ‘The Djinn. Maybe he did this to me.’

Dean climbed into bed next to you, and you noticed he wasn’t wearing the amulet he quite literally never took off. You were apparently eyeing him strangely, because he chuckled, “What?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “Just, uh— where’s your necklace?”

Dean laughed, almost sounding relieved. “Oh, I took it off to shower.” He put a silver chain with dog tags hanging from it around his neck. He opened his arm for you to settle into. 

Hesitantly, you laid down on Dean’s chest. You didn’t get much sleep the remainder of that night, though; incredibly uneasy about what was going on around you. 

Around three in the morning, you slipped out of Dean’s arms and began to explore the house around you. You peeked through the bedroom window to see a neighborhood outside that screamed Middle America. You crept down the hallway to the living room and kitchen area. 

Along the walls of the den, there were photos hanging of what looked like you as a teenager and a child, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t think photos of you existed of that time in your life. And if they did exist, they definitely were not of you at your third birthday with a pink frilly party hat stuffing cake in your face or of you in a cap and gown graduating high school and college. The next thing that caught your eye was a picture of you hugging Steven tightly. Your hand flew to your mouth at the sight. However, it wasn’t your Steven. This one was older and a lot happier than the Steven you once knew. 

Then, there were pictures of you and your mother. Your father was nowhere to be seen, much to your surprise. You nearly wept at the sight of your mom. Then, there were pictures of a young Sam and Dean. One was Dean hugging his mother. He looked much older than four which was the age you knew his mother died at. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed out. 

You took out your phone and checked the time. You considered for a moment, but decided to call Sam figuring he would likely be up soon anyway. 

“Sam?” you asked when the call was answered. 

“(Y/N)?” His voice sounded raspy and tired. 

“Hey, yeah, what the hell’s goin’ on, man?” you demanded.

“(Y/N), what are you—”

“Oh, god, not you, too.” You hung up the phone and ran a hand through your hair. No one but you seemed to understand that this wasn’t right. You noticed something laying on the coffee table at your feet. An envelope addressed to you with Lawrence, Kansas written on one of the address lines. 

“Lawrence? Why the fuck am I in Lawrence?” you breathed out. 

You noticed a computer sitting a distance away and immediately hurried to it. You typed in your password; no luck. You tried Sam’s password for his and Dean’s shared laptop; no luck either. Frustrated, you sat back in the desk chair. You weren’t sure where the idea came from, but you suddenly had the thought to type in Steven’s name and birthday. Somehow, it worked. You remembered how that was your original idea for a computer password when you first bought yourself a laptop in your real life, but the reminder of Steven was too painful to do so. 

You then set to work researching the Djinn. You learned that they’re not so much genies as they are wielders of godlike power. They could alter reality to their whims however they want in the past, present, and future. 

Then, the thought hit you. ‘What if this is just my life now? What if I never see my Dean again? Am I even a hunter wherever this is?’ Your breath hitched as you realized something else. ‘Was I ever raped? Are my parents alive? Where’s Stevie?’

You typed “whitepages” into the search bar and put in your father’s full name; no results. You tried your mother’s and actually got a hit. She lived in Lawrence, too. 

‘What the fuck?’

You then tried Steven’s. Surprisingly, his name generated results, too. He also lived in Lawrence. 

You hurriedly wrote their addresses down on a sticky note beside you on the desk. When you returned to your room, it was around five in the morning. Creeping around the room, you discovered the clothes in your closet were nothing like you wore in the real world: flowing skirts, cardigans, and lots of different colored scrubs. You almost smiled at the sight of the clothes hanging in your closet. 

‘In another life, I definitely would’ve worn all this,’ you thought. You’d always wanted Carrie Bradshaw’s closet; Sex and the City was one of your guilty pleasure shows in the real world.

Your outfit of choice consisted of a pair of low-rise jeans, a halter top with a plunging neckline, and… ‘Oh.’ The only shoes this version of you had in her closet were heels. Admittedly, you’d never been great at wearing them, but always wanted to try. And so, you did. 

Dean still slept peacefully, and you carefully clacked your heels back down the hallway. You headed outside to find the Impala in the driveway, and for that, you were grateful. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” you grinned. You remembered seeing car keys on a hook next to the door of the house and quickly grabbed them. You popped open the trunk of the Impala secretly hoping to find something useful in it. However, old playboy magazines and paper cups were all you found.

‘Ew, Dean, clean out your car.’

You moved around to the driver’s side of the car. Before you could sit down in it, though, something caught your eye. A girl with a gaunt face and billowing white clothing was standing across the street on one of the neighbor’s lawns. A car blew past, and she was suddenly gone. 

***

You rolled to a stop in front of the first address you had written down: your mother’s. You tried to keep your composure as you walked up to her front door. Hesitantly, you rapped your knuckles against it. 

The door opened to reveal your beautiful mother who you’d missed so much. She looked a little older than she did the last time you saw her, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from throwing your arms around her.

“Mom?” you breathed out.

“What is it, hon?” she asked. “C’mon, come inside.”

The sound of her voice made tears spring to your eyes. You followed her into the living room where pictures of you and Steven lined the walls between crucifixes.

“Hey, Mom?” you started. “What song did you sing to me before you used to put me to bed?”

She looked confused, but humored you anyway. “The, uh, ‘The Long to Be’ song by the Carpenters.”

You smiled, partially in relief that this seemed to really be her and not just a figment of your imagination and partially at the fact that she knew. You rushed to her and hugged her tightly. Your mother seemed taken aback once more, but didn’t say anything to let on that she was.

“You okay? Everything alright with Dean?” your mother asked you. 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s— everything’s great. Just, uh, it was a rough day at the hospital, ‘s all,” you said.

“How’s the garage?” 

You tilted your head. “The garage?”

She seemed confused, too. “Dean’s? How’s work going for him?”

“Oh, oh. The garage, of course,” you laughed awkwardly. ‘Smooth, (Y/N),’ you mentally berated yourself. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s great.”

“Really? Last time we talked, he was too busy drinking to focus on fixing a car,” she said.

You felt stunned. The Dean you knew was bordering on becoming an alcoholic, sure, but he wouldn’t let that get in the way of his job.

“Baby, I’m glad to see you, but why are you here at six in the morning?” your mom questioned.

“I just— I just couldn’t sleep. Needed to see my mom,” you replied. It was a half-truthful response.

Your mother offered a small, thoughtful smile. “Oh,” she suddenly said. “What time are you and Dean going to dinner tonight?”

You tilted your head. “Uh—”

“For Mary’s birthday?” she prompted. 

“Oh, oh,” you said. “Right.”

“Did he not tell you?” she asked. “(Y/N), I’ve been telling you that boy isn’t right for you for a while now.”

“Mom—” you protested.

“No, (Y/N). You’re a fantastic nurse. You’re dating a drunkard mechanic. Why couldn’t you have dated Sam?”

“Ew, mom, no. Sam’s my best friend,” you said.

She seemed stunned. “What? That’s new. Last we talked, you hadn’t heard from Sam in months. Neither had Dean.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Right, right, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—”

“Have you been drinking? Dean’s rubbing off on you, (Y/N). You should have listened to me when I warned you about him,” your mother sighed. 

“Jesus, Mom—”

“Don’t take his name in vain!” she scolded.

You scoffed. “I forgot that you’re like this.” You crossed your arms and turned away from her. 

“Like what?” your mother pressed, voice rising. 

“So incredibly judgmental of me. I’ve never been good enough for you or Dad, Mom!”

“How dare you bring up your father!” your mother cut you off.

“What?!”

“Wow, you really are drunk, (Y/N),” she replied. “He’s been dead almost your whole life. You barely even knew him. How could you say that about him?”

You felt like you’d been punched in the chest. ‘So that means he never hit us.’ “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Just leave, (Y/N). Please. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she sighed.

You turned and slammed the door behind you. You sat in the Impala with your head on the steering wheel just trying to process everything that was going on. Even in this fantasy land or new reality or wherever this place was, your mother was harshly critical of you. Granted, you’d rather her harshly criticize you and be alive than dead, but this version of your mother perfectly mirrored the true version of her. It truly freaked you out. 

‘Well, scratch that off the list, I guess,’ you thought.

***

You hesitantly knocked on the door of your little brother’s home. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked upon opening the door.

Tears sprang to your eyes. “Steve?” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked.

You smiled as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Uh, just a hard day at work ‘s all,” you replied. You threw yourself into his arms; a hug he responded to immediately. 

“Hey, seriously, what happened?” he asked when you pulled away. “Was it Dean again? The hospital never gets to you like that.”

“Wait, what? No,” you shook your head. “Why does everybody keep saying he treats me poorly?”

Steven looked at you as if it was obvious. “Uh, ‘cause he does. He’s an alcoholic playboy asshole that you’re way too good for.”

“What?!” you questioned. “No, he isn’t.”

He sighed. “Listen, (Y/N), I don’t wanna keep having this fight with you.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied. You stopped for a moment. “Stevie, I’m really happy to see you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too.”

A small voice piped up from behind your brother. “Daddy?”

Steven stepped back to reveal a staggering toddler in pigtails. He picked her up and grinned down at her. “What’s up, kiddo?”

‘He’s a dad?’ Your shock only increased, and you smiled at the sight of them interacting. Another tear slipped down your cheek. 

“Why’s Minnie crying?” the toddler asked her father.

You grinned. “She calls me ‘Minnie’?” 

Steven nodded. “Yeah, just like I used to.”

You laughed. “Can I hold her?”

“Duh,” he replied, handing his daughter to you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you grinned down at her. She tugged on the ends of your hair, babbling happily and singing to herself.

“Look, Minnie, I braid.” The toddler held up a now twisted, knotted mess of your hair. 

You smiled at her. “Awesome job, angel.” 

You sat on the floor playing with your niece and Steven for hours until your phone rang.

“Hey, (Y/N), where ya been?” Dean’s voice came from the other line.

“Steven’s,” you replied. “Why, what’s up?”

“We gotta be at my mom’s in an hour. Meet me there?” he asked.

*** You met Dean on the steps of his mother’s house. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned, pecking your lips. 

Suddenly, a voice came from behind you. “Seriously, Dean?”

“Sam!” you exclaimed, turning around to give him an enthusiastic hug. He hesitated to return it, and the woman next to him cleared her throat. You released him to come face to face with Jessica, a woman you’d only seen in pictures. 

“Hey, Jess,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue. You hugged her as well, and she awkwardly laughed.

“Hi, (Y/N),” she said. 

You then noticed the awkward distance between the two brothers and the bags Sam was lugging out of the trunk of the taxi in front of you. 

“Where'd you guys come from?” you asked.

“We just flew in from... Califor—”

“California! Stanford and everything. Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’m really not with it today.”

Sam nodded somewhat disapprovingly. “I can see that.” He motioned to the beer in Dean’s hand. “I see you started off Mom's birthday with a bang, as usual.”

“Sam—” Dean warned.

Your heart was breaking at the awkward tension between two brothers who were otherwise incredibly close friends. You couldn’t believe there was a universe where Sam and Dean weren’t, well, Sam and Dean.

***

The restaurant you sat in next to Dean was stuffy. Sam and Jessica were dressed equally as stuffy. Nothing felt right at this moment. You were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were here, and that you needed to figure out how to help yourself get out of here. 

“Wow, that... looks awesome,” Dean said, referring to the plate of steak and asparagus that had been placed in front of him.

Sam raised his glass. “All right. To Mom. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you, Dean, and Jessica said in unison.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, clinking her glass against yours.

You watched Sam and Jessica peck each other on the lips and you smiled fondly. 

“I was really worried about you last night,” Dean told you.

“Oh, I'm… I'm good. I'm really good,” you nodded.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” he smirked. “I know a few ways I can make that a reality, though.”

You recoiled at that comment, slightly dumbfounded by how correct Steven had been about Dean’s behavior in this realm.

“Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday. Ah,” Sam turned to Jessica, “you wanna tell 'em?”

“They're your family,” she laughed.

“What? Tell me what?” Mary asked excitedly.

Sam held up Jessica’s left hand to reveal an engagement ring. You laughed happily in surprise. “Holy shit! That’s amazing!” You got up and hugged Sam happily before hugging Jessica. “Congratulations!” you told them.

“I just wish your dad was here,” Mary told Sam.

You suddenly realized John was missing. You searched Sam’s face, whose disappointment mirrored his mother’s.

Dean and Sam awkwardly shook hands which hurt your heart a little to see. Just behind them, though, you noticed the girl from earlier. Her white, flowing clothing was much filthier and torn this time. You brushed past Sam and headed toward the girl, pushing past people mingling in between you and the haunting figure. As you pushed past the final woman, the girl was gone.

Confused, you turned back around to see the equally weirded-out faces of the Winchester family. 

Sheepishly, you grinned and walked back over to them.

*** “You got somethin’ we need to talk about?” Dean asked you. He’d been completely silent since dinner up until this moment. He downed a beer in the kitchen before turning to you. 

“What?” you asked.

“Back there with Sam. What’s going on with you two?” Dean asked. “In fact, you’ve been acting really weird the past two days. There somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You scoffed. “Dean, I’m not fucking your brother. Look, I’m not feeling like myself right now. ‘S all.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Dean responded mockingly.

“Dude, why are you being such a dick?” you questioned.

“Oh, so we just call each other ‘dude’ now?” he argued.

“Listen, I’m really not enjoying this attitude, okay?” you responded.

Dean cut you off. “I’m not enjoying yours, either. What happened to the sweet little nurse I married?”

“Jesus, we’re married?” you questioned before you could help yourself. 

“(Y/N), what the hell?” Dean replied, his confusion seeming to grow by the minute. 

“I think I’m just… overly tired. I’m gonna… sleep out here tonight,” you said.

Dean scoffed. “Since when are you the childish one?”

“I’m not being childish, Dean, I just wanna sleep on the couch tonight, okay?” you hissed.

“Fine.” He left the room and returned to the bedroom the two of you apparently shared. You heard the door slam a moment later, and you flinched. You settled to the couch and pulled a blanket over yourself. You clicked on the television and began clicking through the channels. Something on the news caught your attention.

“And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424,” the reporter began.

“What the—” you breathed out. 

“Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives—”

Your throat clenched. “No, no. We stopped that crash.”

Panicked, you moved to your computer. Every hunt you checked had apparently never happened. “Nine Children Comatose” was the headline describing a “mystery illness” that had swept Dane County Hospital. Then, the brutal homicides from the clown killer after John died. And Taylor from the closing-down-Hoodoo-hotel case had drowned in the hotel pool. As you looked out the front window, you saw the same woman you’d seen twice already flash by the window. You turned around to see several female corpses hanging around you, and you nearly screamed out in surprise. Then, that same woman again flickering in front of you.

This twisted world was completely shocking even you, an experienced hunter. Your mind raced, but you knew what you had to do. A picture of your dad holding you as a baby on the wall of your house caught your attention.

“I’m sorry you’re not here, Dad,” you murmured. “And I know what I need to do. I’m gonna hunt this son of a bitch, but… I don’t know. Stevie’s happy. Mom’s… Mom. And I just— Why do we always have to be the ones to sacrifice something? A part of me is happy to do it, and this is proof that I could never have this. But it’s just… I don’t know. I know you’re tellin’ me to stop whinin’ and just get it done. I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

And with that, you grabbed a silver knife from your china cabinet and headed out to the Impala. You managed to steal lamb’s blood from a butcher’s shop and headed to the factory you’d last seen the Djinn at. 

***

Hours later, you arrived at the factory in Illinois. Running on pure adrenaline, you headed inside. You moved your flashlight around to illuminate different parts of the factory, and you ignored your phone as it began to ring in your back pocket. The ringing silenced, and then rang again. Without thinking, you lifted your phone over your head and slammed it into the ground, shattering and silencing it completely.

Then, you came across a big store room with the same bodies you’d seen hanging in your living room strung up around it. Next, you noticed the woman you’d been seeing all along. She seemed close to death; her cheeks sallow, face pale, and body hanging limply. 

“It’s her,” you breathed out.

Suddenly, you saw the Djinn coming around the corner. You ducked into the shadows as the woman began to cry. “Where's my dad? I won't tell—” she suddenly cut herself off. “Don't. Where's my dad?”

“Sleep,” you heard a soothing male voice say. “Sleep.”

You then saw the woman’s body completely relax, and the Djinn began to drink from the blood bag next to where she was hanging. 

‘So that’s what it does,’ you realized. ‘It doesn’t grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.’ As the Djinn disappeared, you continued to think. ‘What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?’ You walked up to the woman. “I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.’ You nearly scoffed audibly. ‘So, she’s not a spirit, she’s a flash of reality. I’m catatonic. Fucking great.’

Then, you remembered an old wives’ tale. “Listen to me, motherfucker!” you called into the darkness. “I’m gonna slit my fucking throat! I die in a dream, I wake up, right! Come and get me, I dare you!”

“Wait!” Dean’s voice suddenly called. He walked into the room. 

“Why'd you have to keep digging?” Sam asked.“Why couldn't you have left well enough alone? You were happy.”

Your mother walked up to you and put a hand to your cheek. “Put the knife down, honey.”

“You're not real,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “None of it is.”

“It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had,” Steven replied, holding his daughter. 

“What?” you breathed.

“It's everything you want. C’mon, let’s go home,” Dean pleaded. 

“I'll die,” you argued, voice breaking. “The Djinn 'll drain the life out of me in a couple of days.”

“But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime,” your mother said. “I promise.” She put her hand to your cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. (Y/N), stay with us. Get some rest.”

“You and Dean don't have to worry about Sam anymore,” Jessica said. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

Dean walked up to you and kissed you fiercely. “We can have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, sweetheart. Please.”

“Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?” Sam tried. “I'm begging you. Give me the knife.”

You looked over to Steven, your lip quivering as you sobbed. “I’m sorry.” You slashed your throat with the knife, and the world went white once more. 

***

“(Y/N)!” you heard someone yelling. “Sweetheart, wake up. (Y/N)!”

‘Dean.’

“Oh, God. Come on,” you heard Sam murmuring. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up, damn it!”

You began to roll your head a little, and your eyes could finally open. “Hey, guys.”

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Dean sighed. “I thought I lost you for a second.” 

One of the two boys yanked out the IV in your arm. 

“You almost did,” you joked half-heartedly.

“Oh, god,” Dean muttered, giving you a once-over. “Let's get you down.”

You winced as the boys helped you down, but you suddenly saw a pair of blue eyes glowing behind the boys. “Boys!”

Sam wheeled around, going at the Djinn with the knife. Dean immediately tried to get you away from the scene and set you down a distance away from the scene. “Stay here!” he ordered.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I,” you groaned as Dean turned to help his brother. Several yelps and groans later, the two boys staggered over to you after having killed the Djinn. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing, and immediately moved over to the girl you’d been seeing in your sleep. “She's still alive!” you called to the boys upon feeling a pulse in her neck. 

The two Winchesters helped you cut her down and get her out of the factory to a hospital. 

***

Upon your return to the motel, you found out from the hospital that she was alive and stable. There was a solid chance the girl would pull through.

“How 'bout you? You all right?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, guys,” you said. “I’m great, actually. I’m just— I’m just glad to be back here again.”

“What was it like?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you were a complete dick,” you replied.

Dean chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“And Sam— Sam you were such a freak,” you said. “All stuffy and Stanford-y.” You paused for a moment. “But, uh, you guys were really breakin’ my heart, honestly. You couldn’t get along to save your life.”

“I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy,” Sam said.

“Trust me, it wasn’t,” you replied. “I know we’ve lost a lot, but, uh, I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. Even seeing Stevie again, I— it just wasn’t right. I felt like more of a freak there than I do here. I, uh, I wished what happened to me at the prison never had, but the truth is, that’s always gonna be with me. I can’t just… get rid of it. Nothing can. And that’s not okay, but I’ll learn to live with it.” 

You left the boys to sit with your words and moved to the bathroom. When you looked up at the mirror, an image of you with your mussed-up hair and guard uniform on flashed before you. You ignored the fresh-looking scrapes on your arm and blood streaking down them and shut your eyes. When you opened them once more, you were back to looking at your sunken face and tired eyes. 

Dealing with this was hell. Every day felt like a struggle since what happened to you. But deep down, if you were honest with yourself, you would take dealing with all this with your two boys over your white-picket-fence, Djinn-dream-life any day.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[demon-country]

I'm kind of surprised that this isn't a more common opinion, but I really do think that Blitz started coming over way more often than just the full moon for sex and also that he started staying the whole night as time went on. Like, even if you want to claim that Stolas doesn't love Blitz, he only loves the idea of being loved - which I highly disagree with - Blitz ain't that kinda person. He doesn't catch feelings after only like, what, 12-ish days spent having marathon long sex, and a couple of times spent being vaguely together in public? Ain't no way, Blitz is too guarded for that, and even though BDSM breeds a lot of trust just by virtue of it being about trust more than it is about sex, there's no way those things alone would make Blitz start to fall in love enough that he lists Stolas among the people he doesn't want to live without and die alone, or enough to do literally all of The Full Moon and Apology Tour.

On Stolas' phone there is also a picture of a horse that Blitz drew, laid on Stolas' bed, showing that Blitz felt comfortable enough at Stolas' palace and in Stolas' company that he was willing to draw Stolas a horse. That speaks of intimacy, that speaks of familiarity, and that speaks of trust that Blitz would share something he loves doing with Stolas. It also speaks of them having the time to do things other than sex when he comes over.

Now, to be fair, Blitz himself says that Stolas liked to do things like call him a lot to ask about his day and whatnot, and liked his sinstagram posts all the time. And while their now-defunct official Instagram posts aren't strictly canon, Viv did say that the stuff there was true to what the characters might do. So if we take what Blitz said in Oops and applied it to something Blitz posted on his sinstagram account, then Blitz used to book out an entire hour on his daily schedule just to talk on the phone with Stolas. Spending an hour or even half an hour almost every single work day for around a year and regularly talking on sinstagram is definitely significant and would also foster familiarity and plant the seed that Stolas does care for him, even if Blitz's self-hatred and Stolas' more unfortunate comments prevented him from truly believing it.

But I don't think it'd stop with that. Sex is the only way Blitz feels he can really spend time together with Stolas, and it's the only thing he knows for certain that Stolas wants from him and is always down for. If he was catching feelings - and Ozzie's, The Full Moon, and Apology Tour all show that he most definitely was -, he'd start desiring to be around Stolas more often, which would almost definitely lead to him making excuses to come over and have sex.

Of course, he couldn't just admit that even to himself, so he probably would have excused it to himself as something like being too busy to find someone else to sleep with. Oh you know he's just so busy with work and taking care of Loona, and going out to find a fling when he has a perfectly willing booty call he can go see basically whenever he wants is just way less convenient. Why put in the extra work finding someone he's interested in when Stolas is a smoking hot great lay who's down to do pretty much anything and everything? Not that it means anything though! He could totally go get someone else if he wanted to, he just... doesn't. Because he's too busy for that, of course.

And why go to some rando's place if he's just gonna have to get up and leave right after? With Stolas he can stay the night in a giant ass, comfy as fuck bed (with a super soft, super snuggly bird. Uh, not that he cares about that though! It's certainly not like he's touch starved or anything, haha no of course not that'd be crazy! >_>), and in the morning if he sticks around long enough he can either get another round in or some fancy brand coffee.

Like, that's all just an example of how he might explain it to himself, but however he actually did, I'm of the opinion that he used to not stay the night, but most of the time by the end of it he did. Blitz doesn't fall quickly, but once he does he falls hard, and given how desperately he clings to Stolas in The Full Moon and Apology Tour, I'm not sure if he'd be able to stop himself from spending whatever time he could make excuses for with Stolas. The only reason he doesn't post-Ozzie's is because of Stolas' supposed rejection and, after Western Energy, because he feels unworthy of it and is scared of what his perceived failure to protect Stolas might have changed.

That's how I see it, anyway. But I guess it's a pretty unpopular opinion? This got way longer than I thought it would...

[clarity2electricboogaloo]

Outsiders shit. Some modern some not idfk

These are all like. The most crack-filled hcs ever, please excuse my brain 🙏🏽🙏🏽 if these don’t make sense to you, tell me

- dally is so headstrong that the moment someone bets he can’t do something, he does it

- the gang takes advantage of this

- (this is a method I use on my younger siblings 😭😭)

- dally can walk in heels

- also two bit. Like scarily well. His sister is amazed.

- pony calls people whore

- Johnny calls people thot

- they say these to each other on a regular basis.

- also hoe

- uhhh where was I

- something something gay something something 70s 80s smth pony and Johnny because Johnny never died frfr no cap

- Johnny: “I can’t believe yall vape smh”

- also Johnny: *pulls out a cigarette for each hand*

- pony does the same thing

- twobit and Marcia are either gay-lesbian solidarity or they’re dating, no in between

- if they’re gay, they’re a beard couple just like “we pretend to date, they can’t catch on” “I like the way you think, woman”

- ily twobit matthews. That’s all.

- twobit and Marcia are actually both Hispanic, its canon trust I was there

- dally types “women ☕️” in instagram comment sections

- also “it’s bc I’m a man isn’t it”

- (ty V on discord for that second one 🙏🏽🙏🏽)

- cherry and dally argue on twitter

- a lot

- dally spams cherry and then she absolutely COOKS this pathetic rat man

- dally blocks cherry, doesn’t talk to her for a while, then eventually forgets and unblocks her to harass the poor girl again

- cherry doesn’t realize blocking is a thing, but she complains to marcia and marcia shows her how to block Dallas

- dally, two bit, and Steve are all hopelessly addicted to twitter

- like it’s really fucking bad

- someone get these mfs off the internet

- dally therapy

- now

- right fucking now

- cherry valance and ponyboy bisexual man/bisexual woman solidarity

- they are besties

- nothing more nothing less

- change my mind

- (you cant)

- marcia “good luck babe” by Chappell roan

- pony autism

- Johnny audhd

- Darry autism

- soda audhd or just adhd

- I saw someone say dally ocd once and I like it so

- dally ocd

- twobit adhd

- Steve adhd

- everyone trauma :D

- when johnny actually lived after the fire bc thats what actually happened actually fr, he left his parents because he realized they didn’t love him (pulling from the “I don’t wanna see her” scene for this)

- he stays with the curtis boys most of if not all the time

- if soda and Darry are gone, pony will grab Johnny and they’ll sleep together

- not in a weird way you freaks

- pony just genuinely cannot sleep

- I may or may not be influenced by fics I’ve read…

- soda saw them one night when he got home late and was like “…queers?”

- he stays out a bit later than usual now, often found sleeping in another room

- Darry actually supports more than pony thought, when he comes out, Darry is like a pride parade mom frfr

- kinda lowkey overbearing with it

- ily Darrel curtis

- soda is the typa guy to genuinely not understand lgbtq+ but supports anyways

- sodas the typa guy to be asked what his pronouns are and say “just he/him. Wish I had smth more interesting, but I’m just a guy :D”

- on the other end of that, soda and Steve are gay

- everyone is gay

- all of them

- so very fucking gay

Im done yapping for now, im so sorry for anyone that sees this

[budbuddnbuddy]

Little obey me headcanons (pt3)

(Pt4)

A/n: uhhh not really sure what to say here, but I’m glad my posts are getting the attention similar to what I had when I first picked up writing fanfics and headcaons. Thank all of you so much hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas.

As MC spends more time in the Devildom and makes more pacts with the brothers, they’ll start to have a slightly more evil look to them. Get what I mean? Like how Megan Fox has “evil beauty.” However its not as visible, they’ll still look like your normal boring human first glance.

“The celestials know every language in the human wor-“ *LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER* Sorry but I respectfully hate this headcaon with all my heart, it doesn’t make sense. Sure these guys are immortal powerful beings that have lived for millions and billions of years, but they don’t even keep up with the human world like that and that’s CANON. Also if we’re looking at it through their perspective where as a hundred years is literally just a couple of blinks, humans would be making new languages every second.

They probably know 2-6 MAX, and that’s not me underestimating them that’s me saying that they either don’t have the time or will to care about 7,139 OFFICIAL languages there are in the human world. But enough of that let’s dive into the languages that they can speak.

Lucifer: English, French, Italian. and a little bit of Japanese due to Levi but not enough to be fluent. Mammon: English, Spanish. Levi: English, Korean, Japanese, and sign language. (idk if that counts) Satan: English, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, French, Spanish, Arabic. Asmodeus: English, French (mainly because he thinks it sounds hot 💀) Beelzebub: English and German. Belphie: English, Spanish, German (because of Beel), Japanese. Diavolo: English,Italian, a bit of Spanish but not enough to be fluent. Barbatos: Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, English, French. Simeon+Luke: English right now but Luke wants to learn Spanish.

Solomon is probably the type of person to wake up at 12:30 in the afternoon whenever possible. Mf probably has an alarm set for that exact time too, and when you ask where he’s been for like half of the day he’ll tilt his head to the side and be like “I was sleeping????”

I feel like we can all come to a sort of mutual understanding of this, but the brothers fan clubs and MC do not mix well together like at all.

“Asmo, get your crazy ass fans under control! They’re fucking insane!”

“Oh they can’t possibly be that bad dear! They’re MY fans after all!”

“I let it slip that we had a date planned for this Saturday and one of them threatened to cut me before calling me a warm toilet seat!”

“Oh.”

Asmodeus, Barbatos, and Simeon call you Hon/Honey sometimes.

For all of your RAD classes, every brother except Lucifer shares at least ONE class with you. Also all of the exchange students are in the same Main classes.

Everyone is a tad bit insane about you, just a little bit, a sprinkle if you will. No I am not explaining this.

[bidisasterevankinard]

What is your opinion about the vertigo poster that Tim posted? People are saying that is a confirmation of Buck being in love with Eddie…

Im really tired about all the “will they, won’t they” and I love Lou and Tommy/Buck relationship, do you think Lou will come back for season 8 or are you of the opinion that they’ll break up on the finale?

Idk the meaning of Vertigo(tell me). But the things I know:

People was talking about "this detail"(I can name like 5 right now without thinking much) says what buddie will happen. But it never happened

Ryan literally called Eddie HETEROSEXUAL. which means now no one sees him as queer and nothing like that will happen. Especially while he still deals with Shannon and her ghost, if ever. All the talks "but Tommy/Eddie was in plan means Eddie is queer" miss the point it was on the same stage of planning as Maddie/Eddie before 2x1. They had idea, they looked at their story, talked with actors and said "no, It's not what we will do" and dropped it. So now people need to understand that in canon creators see Eddie as hetero. Ryan sees him as hetero and Tim really respects and listens to opinion of his actors about their characters (I still hc Eddie demi btw, but people need to understand hc and canon is different things and I respect Ryan's opinion)

Ryan also said it was important for him and Oliver to play how queer man comes out to his straight friend and nothing between them change. It was important for him to play it to the situation he had with his close friend to show that men can stay close as before even if one of them comes out

Lou said bucktommy are thriving during what seem like 7x9/10 shooting

Tim called bucktommy rom-com and rom-com couple stays happy together in finale

Oliver is excited about exploring bucktommy's relationship and said it exciting to work with Lou and he hopes to get to know him

Both Ryan and Oliver told that they want to show that men can be close and vulnerable how buddie are without any feelings involved

Oliver said he doesn't want the situation where queer guy comes out and it means he's in love with his best friend

Lou till yesterday was not active in cameo which means he more likely was shooting and they kept it secret bc it can be spoiling. I can't see Buck's good and exciting coming out story, when he's so smitten, end with break up in the finale

Also, bucktommy kissed right after Bobby's wedding speech, right after madney's kiss with the love song which soooooo deep connected to madney's love story still playing. They could drop the music, not show the kiss, but they did. To show the point that Buck and Tommy are falling for each other step by step. And Tommy is the one calling Buck 'Evan' and it was confirmed important(and that Lou was instructed not to call him Buck) in they way that Buck loves how Tommy calls him that and to point out how different Tommy is. Which means that they plan to leave Tommy as long term. At least try to and gather reaction from ALL the fans, not just buddie fans

Also. It's season 7. And all the seasons Buck tries to find stability in love life, settle down. And it starts to get boring and painful to see how 911 use him to bad love stories and arcs. The last season started with him trying to prove he can be good captain eventually and Bobby tells him he needs to gather some more experience and settle down at ease, before he will be ready. And it's actually time for Buck to settle down. And Tommy can be it. Person who likes him, who respects him, who runs to him, who chooses him. Buck can settle down with Tommy and be finally at ease with love and look at what else life has for him. New hobbies, new possibilities in job(not even become a captain, but for example lieutenant as somehow our show doesn't have it, they might think about adding it. Or become mechanic. Or something), new friends even

So, I'm pretty positive this poster means nothing more than Tim appreciated the, as I know fan's work(correct me if I'm wrong), and Bucktommy and Lou are here to stay and people should get use to it

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

[s1ater]

lorenzo’s luck.

pairings. mobster!slytherin boys x fem!reader

about. in which it’s been a rough couple of weeks and lorenzo is facing the heat of it all.

warnings. swearing, a beating,

ricky rocks. okay, new idea sense i’ve been watching the sopranos lately and writing generic slytherin boys is getting boring for me rn… also i’ve been seeing some stuff abt lorenzo on tiktok and even something on here and i think i characterized him totally wrong? but also not because i read the book (but not really) he originally came from and he didn’t seem as sweet and innocent as people play him as. idk, i’ll stick to what i have now but lmk what y’all think ig

everything and everyone was on edge.

for the past two weeks the feds had been down your neck, jeopardizing your whole lifestyle and way of work.

everyone was in a pissy mood because of it—because when the feds were on your ass, that meant having to be careful, and your job was hard thing to be careful about when every move you made was highly incriminating. so when being careful, you barely got to work, and no work meant no profit.

it was hard to specify exactly what you did.

you were a mobster.

there it is, in the simplest form.

there was a lot of pressure in being one, especially when law enforcement was there to make things ten times harder.

and it wasn’t only affecting you, but entirety of your group;

“you’re a fuckin’ idiot, lorenzo, you realize that? take a fuckin’ look at yourself in the mirror and stare at something that isn’t just your face and realize you’re a fool,” mattheo’s voice erupts so suddenly through the air, startling all of you. “get your shit together.”

it was already starting. you, theodore, blaise, lorenzo, and mattheo had just barely taken a step into one of the many backrooms of the businesses mattheo’s father owned when the composure came fumbling down.

lorenzo had just barely sat his ass in one of the leather seats when the attention was pinned to him, “jesus, what’s up you’re ass m?” he laughs, but you can tell it’s a nervous one. “jesus.”

you glance to theodore who winces at the response like it was his own. that was the worst possible thing to say, especially to mattheo, especially right now where his anger and frustration was at an all time high.

you can see that anger pulse through his skin in a spike as he finally seems to processes lorenzo’s antagonizing words.

oh boy.

“fuckin’ saved your ass, enzo. you know what my fathers saying? that you’re a loose fucking cannon and i need to let you go,” he has his hand raised, shaking it in his face. “and you know what? we don’t let people go. there’s no such thing as letting someone go in our business. that’s a rare ever occurrence.”

letting someone go is disposing them. taking them out to the back and putting them down like a dog.

“get your head on straight and don’t you forget that you wouldn’t be here without me, because you’d be dead.”

“you act like you’re so fucking clear minded,” he huffs, leaning his head against the palm of hand.

that was enough.

mattheo swings himself around, throwing his fist into the face of enzo as hard as he can. you flinch at the sound of enzo’s nose cracking beneath the contact of mattheo's knuckles. you feel yourself tense up at the noise not letting up, but rather playing over and over, filling the room with ugly sounds of punches fill the room.

“mattheo-“

your call out is cut off as theodore takes your shoulder, pulling you back, “don’t.”

“he’s going to kill him.”

“he won’t,” he pulls you even closer and further away from the violent scene unfolding before you all, tightening his grip. “lorenzo’s too viable.”

he was right. even as enzo was a loose canon, he brought in a lot of profit and kept his end clean… for the most part.

lo was too salient for mattheo to kill, but his loud mouth was enough to tip mattheo over the edge.

it was a perfect way for him to blow off steam; beating in the face of his friend.

***

“don’t you look like a dime.”

it’s been a week since mattheo went on his little rampage, and you were now just seeing lorenzo in his healing state.

you’re smiling up at him, pinching his cheek as he rolls his eyes to your attention, “yeah, yeah, get off my back.”

he looked far from a dime; his nose was broken causing both his eyes to sport dark rings of bruising around them while the lining of his jaw was turning a dark purple and yellow.

“you and mattheo civil now?”

“define your idea of civil.”

“well, you’re not dead, so I assume you two are as civil as civil gets in mattheo’s terms.”

he scoffs, “yeah, well, let’s hope mattheo and his father are on the same page and I don’t end up dead in the next week.”

over a month ago, some of lorenzo’s boys hijacked a truck everyone was told specifically not to mess with despite the fair amount of profit that could come from it. and unfortunately, they dug themselves an already deep hole, deeper by obtaining the truck through a casualty.

lorenzo had received the blame, despite it having nothing to do with him other than the men being under his supervision and responsibility. he had to pay for it, and he did…

“you’re on the higher end of things, he won’t kill you.”

“that’d be the exact reason for him to kill me,” lorenzo corrects you. “I’m on the higher end for a reason, i can’t fuck up.”

you press your lips into a thin line at the thought of his words. mattheo’s beating must’ve really enlightened lorenzo because there was rarely ever a moment you caught him in such a grave mood where he was so in touch with reality.

his attitude on life was light and so unserious; you were unsure on how mattheo even recruited him when that was the exact opposite that this job sought out for. but then again, the boy recruited all of you.

“then don’t fuck up,” he laughs lightly, but it’s caught in the back of his throat. “again.”

“great advice, y/l/n,” he glances at you, “really got that one on the nose.”

“don’t be a douche,” you slap him lightly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, lo. you’re alive, you’ll stay that way too as long as you don’t press your luck.”

“hard to press my luck when I don’t have any in the first place.”

you gaze at the side of his face, attempting to gage the general emotion or even thought process going through his head, but there was nothing. not even his usual perma-smile could be found.

***

“someone approached me awhile ago-“

“who?”

“doesn’t matter who—a clients girlfriend,” lorenzo is anxious, pacing back and forth before all of you in the backyard of mattheo’s home. “i was offered a deal.”

you wince immediately.

lorenzo had collected the whole lot of you; everyone except mattheo. you all sat on his back deck, fixating between the full beautiful greenery backyard of the riddle home and lorenzo, who hadn't spoken till now.

a deal.

he should’ve stopped there.

“a deal?” blaise arched a brow, now leaning on his forearms that rest on his knees. “what kind of deal?”

you all knew exactly what type of deal it was.

enzo’s eyes don’t reach any yours, but he’s stopped pacing, wondering whether he should really speak it now.

don’t say it.

“immunity,” he says it flat out, bringing truth to all of your thoughts. but he doesn’t seem ashamed to this with the way he looks at each and every one of you in the eye finally. “she said once we all get impounded, there’s a way out for me.”

once. not if.

“i tell them everything. i rat every single one of you out and i’m given immunity.”

you all look up at him like he’s crazy. and he is; to be speaking like this to a bunch of mobsters—threatening the entirety of their life and business is crazy.

“we get thirty years plus. there’s no doubt. they get us and we’re already laid in our graves before trial because what we’ve done is absurd-“

“are you saying you’re a rat, berkshire?”

“no,” he shakes his head fast. “no, not at all.”

“that’s not what i’m hearing,” draco shakes his head. “i’m hearing you’re getting nervous with all this recent snooping of the feds and you’re fuckin’ rat.”

“fuck off, malfoy. i’m just telling you what i was told. i’m not a goddamn rat. i’d have to be mental to give up all we’ve done-“ his hand finds his forehead and he’s pacing again. “fuck if i even remember half of it.”

you’re all back to silence, thinking about this. rat or not, this did not look good for him.

your eyes suddenly settle on the light and distant bruising under enzo’s eyes; finally healing. you think about mattheo beating in his face over and over, and then you think about what he’d do if he ever found out about lorenzo’s offer.

“they have a lot of shit on mattheo.”

you all look back up to lorenzo now, a certain interest now crossing each of you again.

“what type of shit exactly?”

“type of shit you don’t get parole with… or out of jail for that matter,” he looks even more stressed than before. “she said the rest of you could have chances of a life after serving. not him.”

this wasn’t a surprise. mattheo always had a quality that none of you did when it came to getting things done; something sociopathic. he always took risk without question of consequence. he moved in silence, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, he always got things done faster than all of you combined.

so if mattheo did something beyond all of your usual tasks, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“i mean that makes sense, matty’s been at this longer than the rest of us,” you reasoned it out, only to be stopped immediately.

“no, you don’t understand,” enzo shook his head.

“what exactly are we not understanding here, enzo? you seem to know something, so why don’t you just spit it out,” theodore sits up, speaking for once. there’s obvious annoyance and distaste in his mouth as he stares at the boy before you with a narrowed look.

lorenzo pauses, looking back at him with the same look. you can tell there’s a thought process behind his eyes, and his anxiousness is slowly melting away.

“you know, where do you guys think this is all going? genuinely. you think we’re going to spend the next couple of months running clubs, collecting money, and beating up the occasional person that’s late on their payments for fun?” lorenzo has turned sour, looking at each of you almost as if he hates you all for your ignorance. “this is for life, and we’re only at the beginning point.”

[mycadences]

There are so many things I adore about Gwynriel, but right now I'm particularly loving how Azriel -- the stoic and stony Spymaster of the Night Court -- is repeatedly amused by Gwyn. And you know what they all say about how sharing a similar sense of humor is important for a thriving relationship...

Quotes:

"Az stared after her, brows high with amusement."

"Azriel's lips twitched."

"Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle."

*Gwyn makes a joke about Nessian being too into each other to conduct training properly.* "Azriel laughed. 'I'll give you that.'"

And the last three were when he "wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend". Like imagine this: he was already so comfortable with her and found her company entertaining when he didn't consider them friends (since this bonus scene was earlier on in the book). Like -- just their potential!

And of course, the one that everyone knows:

"So he offered her a crooked smile."

AHHHHHHHHH!!! *this is the sound of me screaming until my soul has left this world, btw*

Are they in love right now? OF COURSE NOT! No one, NO ONE is claiming that they are head over heels in love with each other right now. But do I see their relationship developing into eventual love and acceptance of each other? Hell yes!

I find it interesting that Azriel was so self-conscious of his scarred hands around Elain, thinking himself sullied, but around Gwyn he was so completely relaxed that he didn't even think about his hands. He even had to fight back the urge to "open up her wrist and rotate the blade" (which he obviously didn't do out of respect for her personal boundaries). Like he was willing to make physical contact with her to demonstrate how to do the move correctly (and no, not in a skinship or sexual manner, but just pointing out how he could be around Gwyn without hiding himself).

Azriel doesn't need to be fixed.

Gwyn doesn't need to be fixed.

They need acceptance, and I believe they can find that in each other.

I still firmly maintain that Gwynriel is endgame but if the stars misalign and the sun rises from the west, I will still be a Gwynriel shipper. I have shipped non-canon couples in other media before. My love for them burns just as bright nonetheless.

But fear not, Gwynriels, we will get the story the world deserves to know 💖

[manifestingchaoticvibes]

I want to start by saying that I ship both buddie and bucktommy. And yes, lately you will see much more bucktommy on my blog and there's a good reason for that right now. The fandom has been incredible toxic, and I've had to unfollow a lot of people. And honestly. I've just been truly enjoy this canon ship right now.

Now, I get what people say when they use the show as evidence for buddie. I've enjoyed reading into things myself in the past. But...

I have a key to my besties place, and she has one to mine. We love shopping together, clothes, groceries, furniture even. She hangs out with my kid, with me and independently. If I had kids young enough, she would get them if I died. She gets my fur babies as it is. She will be in my will, once I get off my ass to make one. We vacation together, go out for dinner together, and talk all the time. We have had fights to end all fights when we haven't felt heard, or have been feeling dismissed by the other one. People have called us codepended, and tell us we act like an old married couple.

We are not in love with each other. But we do love each other. We support and care about one another. And I'm sure people will say it's different with girls or some ridiculous gendered, misogynist stereotype. But it isn't.

You can love someone and not want to be with them romantically. Platonic love is a real thing.

Buck / Eddie might just end up to be a wonderfully supportive platonic relationship, and that would still be amazing! We don't have enough platonic male friendships in media that show the same level of comfort.

But hey, they also might end up together, and that would be cool too. Honestly, I'd be pretty happy either way.

But the things that you see can be read both ways, and that's also the cool thing about media. It's how we interpret it.

But like, don't shit on other people about ships that they love just because you think all the evidence is right there! Buddie might happen. Bucktommy is happening. Just enjoy the show and let people ship who they wanna ship.

[matan4il]

Buddie 617 meta

I’m gonna be honest here, this was one of the funniest 911 eps to me. I loved how this ep showed us both Buck and Eddie completely sucking at dating. It was very obvious in Buck’s case, what with each attempt to have quality time with Natalia being ruined by one of his past decisions, but then when he called out Eddie for also sucking at it, Buck wasn’t wrong. Eddie’s attempts seem half-hearted at best. First off, if he really wanted to date, then Tia Pepa’s help and dating apps are actually not that awful as options. Magic might happen there as well. The right person could even stand out more against a sea of not so great choices, turning the dreary experience into a colorful, magical one. But even when Eddie tries on his own, his attempts are LAME. Seriously, there are pastime activities that offer way more potential to start a conversation, and maybe a romance, than the ones Eddie chose. Not only that, these are not his actual hobbies, where he knows he’ll find someone who likes the same thing he does (the way he shares so much with one tall firefighter that we’re all thinking of right now. Eddie’s also being dumb about wanting it to “just happen” as if that’s not exactly what he got with buck. Also, just a friendly reminder that Buddie have been dating for almost 5 years, and they are GREAT at it when it’s with each other).

On top of that, we for real got a guy checking Eddie out (hi, hello, should I start a collection of him checking and being checked out by guys?) as well as him witnessing a woman he was looking at being embraced by another one. Why the hints at being surrounded by queer people? Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m here for it no matter what. ;D Now, I’ve talked before about the ongoing theme of Buddie’s dating life being intertwined in terms of when they start dating someone, or of why they break up, but now in addition to them dating at the same time, we also see them simultaneously sucking at it? Yeah, that takes the connectedness of their dating life up a notch. ~~

Which brings me to one line that grabbed my attention in this ep. THE line that offers the explicit resolution for the most important romantic plot here is the one from Gina, the insurance lady, to Chimney, about not regretting the attempt. Yes, even when the result is bad. That’s what Madney will embrace. One of the biggest obstacles to Buck and Eddie, besides their obliviousness, is the fear of ruining the good thing they have by attempting to take it to the next level. But here we have Chimney being reminded by Gina that it’s worth it, to try. Because the good thing you can have, if it works out? Is worth it. And you never have to live with the “what if” of it all. Now look at Buck and Eddie being once more adorable morons together on the job! Imagine the moment when they stop running around and let themselves try taking it to the next level, because they realize no matter what the result will be, they would never regret the attempt. ~~

Speaking of Buddie paralleling one of the canon couples on the show who were acting lovey dovey in this ep, the way Bobby described what made him and Athena happen reminded me of Buddie connecting. In both cases, there’s an intense and upsetting call, after which one of our first responders turns to find support (Buddie promising to have each other’s back) and comfort (Eddie wants to go grab something to eat together) in the other one. ~~

I did not miss Taylor Kelly, and true to form, she was back because she’s advancing her career by exploiting her personal connection to Buck and the exposure to the 118 it provided her. I’m pretty sure this basically buries any option of any showrunner ever trying to re-set these two as a romance, since it echoed and reinforced Buck’s decision to break up with her. It WAS funny to see her and Lucy cockblock Buck (I do think Lucy’s tone with which she spoke of their past also closes the door on anyone ever trying to set her and Buck up as a serious couple), but what I found to be funniest is that Buck tells Natalia he was trying to figure out the perfect place for their date, and then he took her to the bar where he kissed Lucy. A bar reminiscent of the one where he hooked up with Taylor. Possibly a spot where he hooked with other women during his Buck 1.0 stage based on how it’s THE hang out place for the 118 and we know Buck had no issues hooking up anywhere back then. Natalia, hon. This is not a good sign for your r/s with him. ~~

Speaking of which, there’s an ex who didn’t come back in this ep, but her spirit loomed large over Buck and Natalia IMO, and that is Ali. The reason why she and Buck broke up after 218 is because at the end of the day, she couldn’t accept the choices he had made in his professional life (hoping he would move on from firefighting). In the same way, Natalia revealed in this ep that she can’t accept Buck’s choices in his personal life. A small reminder the only partner we’ve ever witnessed truly seeing and accepting Buck, in every aspect of his life, has been Eddie. ~~

Another funny thing about this (911 is a comedy, y’all) is how Natalia flees the second she comes across Kameron. I mean, this is in addition to the hilarity of the death doula’s first name connecting her to birth and to all things natal, yet she flees the second that she sees a pregnant lady. Because if this is Natalia’s reaction when it comes to a bio kid that Buck explicitly said he is not going to raise, what would she do once she realizes he co-parents a fully grown kid? (and a very sassy one, too. LBR, Natalia doesn’t stand a chance in a show down with either Diaz boy) ~~

Much like Natalia doesn’t seem like the right fit for Buck based on this ep (or based on 616), neither does Marisol. Can I point out the fact that Eddie’s disapproval in the last ep of Buck dating Natalia applies here, too? They both met these women on calls. Second, Eddie wanted it to happen naturally, which is why it’s so lame he tried through all sorts of activities that he’s not ACTUALLY into and wouldn’t continue doing past the initial stage of meeting someone else. And that holds true for Marisol as well. We saw that her brother and her are very into DYI, which I guess was meant to lay the groundwork for Eddie running into her in a DYI shop. But the thing is, Eddie himself isn’t into this! Sure, he can do it, because as a single dad he’s had to, but it’s not something we’ve ever seen him being passionate about. He’s only at this store because of Christopher’s project. And then once more, just like he steps away from Pepa’s help, dating apps and chooses the wost places for a chance romantic connection, he walks away from Marisol even when the whole scene plays out as if she’s the climax of his search throughout this whole ep. This might all hint that despite initial appearances, just like the people he came across while golfing and hiking wouldn’t be the right fit, Marisol wouldn’t be either. Even more importantly, just like Ana at first appeared like she would be perfect for Eddie in 312, starting out in a “it just happened” sort of way and with supposedly being fated because she happened to guess correctly that Eddie stands for Edmundo, this thing with Marisol might look in the moment like it’s exactly what he was looking for, but it will fizzle out as well.

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the incredible @whosoldherout​​, there are no words to describe how much I love your gifs and appreciate you!

~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 3: OF BILL'S SOLITUDE AND BILLFORD (1/3)

What can I say? I’ve always loved the canon ship in almost every fandom I was in.

Welcome, everyone. Welcome to the third part of my endless rambling about Bill Cipher, The Book of Bill and Gravity Falls in general. Now it’s time for the ship, so sit back and relax, because there is a lot to talk about here.

Yes, I was one of the people who shipped these two eight years ago. And I shipped them as soon as I finished watching the series, because… well, there was more than enough proof that something was going on between them.

Unfortunately, the mentality at the time was “Bill tries to kill Dipper as soon as he has the chance? True love. One trillion proofs that Ford and Bill have something going on? How dare you think that, you are a Bad Person™”.

And yes, I know I could’ve written one post years ago and tried to explain Billford back then but… it would’ve been so, so tiresome. Especially considering that pedophilia was a-okay, but Billford shippers were terrible people Because Yes.

But hey, times change, people change and TBOB gives us enough proofs even a blind person can see them. So. it’s finally time to extensively talk about this ship - this time, from Bill’s point of view.

(For the disclaimer and everything else, refer to the first post. And read the previous ones too, if you like! They will help you understand some things I take for granted here.)

<- Previoust post - Masterlist

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Billford has always been canon

The thing is: now as then, Billford has never been a ship about “and they ended up happily ever after”. There was never an intent to glorify abuse or to say that Bill and Ford had the healthiest relationship and everyone should have the same.

What was so captivating of this ship was the tragedy of it. The clearly evident infatuation. The obsession these two had for each other.

This is what pushed people (me included) to ship them: because it’s interesting. The dramatic possibilities, the angst, how deeply an obsession can go to the point you lose yourself to your partner… and yes, of course also the interesting images that can come up by imagining such different beings having something physical (if you’re not a coward and give Bill a human form). It’s not the typical fluff with a couple being lovey-dovey 24/7: it’s a lot more. There is a lot that can be explored. It’s wonderfully challenging, both on the writing plane and purely mentally.

… and yes, it's funny for crack and parodies. These two being cringe and pathetic or married and divorced at the same time is always funny.

Sure, at first we had just the show to support this ship. But oh boy, if there weren’t enough proofs already:

Ford’s house was filled to the brim with images, pictures and stuff of Bill. His goddamn windows are triangular-shaped. Not even the Vatican is filled with so many images of God - and I can assure you the windows are not Jesus-shaped.

Ford made a deal with Bill to be together “from now until the end of time”. Until the end of time. That’s basically a marriage, only even more extreme, because fuck death, we will be together until the last supernova evaporates. And before you ask: yes, it takes such a stupidly long amount of time, it’s bonkers. That’s real infatuation.

Ford consensually gave his body to Bill for possession. Just imagine the sheer trust you need to surrender your whole self to someone else. Not even a married couple can reach this level of trust. And definitely not “just friends”. Maybe BDSM couples can come a bit closer to what these two had.

As soon as Ford returned home after 30 years, Bill greeted him in a dream, called him “his old pal” and was all nice and friendly. No hard feelings, no reprimands, nothing but flattery and threats because, as we learned from TBOB, these two things go together in his head.

Bill asked Ford to join him 200 times more or less.

Bill gave Ford 200 nicknames more or less.

During Weirdmageddon, right after Ford tried to kill him with one of the things that could’ve destroyed him (the quantum destabilizer), Bill welcomed him with a smile, offered him a place among his freaks for the umpteenth time and, when Ford refused again, he turned him into his literal golden trophy wife and carried him around.

By comparison, when Preston Northwest offered his help, Bill shuffled the function of every hole in his face and ignored him completely right after.

Also: Ford tries to shoot me and fails by sheer luck? Please please please, be one of my freaks. Dipper tries to throw me a punch that will literally do nothing? Death. Bill doesn’t have double standards, nope nope.

To convince Ford to give him the equation, Bill’s first thought is to bring Ford into a private suite, serenade him and ask him to join him for… what? The 220th time?

When Ford refuses, Bill puts chains on him in the kinkiest possible way known to mankind, with an iconic image that screams of BDSM.

Somehow, all of this wasn’t enough. And so, we had Journal 3, in which:

Ford called Bill “his Muse”. Oh, my mistake: he called Bill “his blessed Muse”.

Literally lavishes Bill with compliments. So. Many. Compliments.

Says Bill will “seduce” you with never-ending flattery. Interesting verb choice here, Ford, are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?

Ford named a constellation after his Muse.

Once he went through the portal, instead of hiding away forever and good luck finding him, Ford held a 30-years-old grudge and decided HE would’ve killed Bill, no one else. That’s not a simple obsession between friends.

But after all of this, something was still missing.

Until now, it was quite certain that Ford had a COLOSSAL obsession about Bill. The religious fervor, the sheer trust, the depth of his grudge all made it very clear that Bill carved a deeply rooted place in his heart and mind - a place he kept for most of Ford’s life.

But what about Bill? Did he even care about Ford?

We had no idea. Sure, he showed some kind of care: he gave Ford special treatment during Weirdmageddon and seemed to value him enough to offer him a place among his freaks multiple times.

But when did this care start? Was it just because he needed Ford? What about their pre-betrayal relationship? Did Bill even care before?

The most plausible explanation at the time was that pre-betrayal Bill was simply flattered by Ford’s lavish adoration. Maybe he liked the guy a bit (otherwise, why waste time with him?) and humored him in his fervor, but nothing more than that.

But then the betrayal happened and Ford switched from adoring him to opposing him. He actively ran away, found ways to keep Bill away from his mind and came back with the sole intention of killing him.

At the time, I thought this was the moment when Bill started to be truly interested in Ford. Before Ford was just an adoring pet. Now he was more. Now he was interesting. Now he was worthy.

And that opened the door to even more angst possibilities! If Billford was just a “one-sided relationship” before, now it could’ve been the story of two beings who loved/cared about each other, but at different moments in time: Ford in the past, when Bill didn’t love him yet. And Bill in the present, when Ford wasn’t in love with him anymore. The perfect tragedy, ton of angst, love that.

But now, with TBOB and thisisnotawebsitedotcom, the tragedy that is Billford gets a new, angst layer. A beautiful, angst layer.

Because it’s not that Bill never cared about Ford or cared at the wrong moment in time: Bill cared right from the start.

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Deeply alone

One detail about TBOB that people aren’t talking too much about is the sense of solitude that permeates it. There are parts in which you can literally feel Bill’s loneliness.

One example? The Bill Tells All section. I know it’s supposed to be a funny parody, but it’s also a perfect image of how alone he is. He’s so alone, he has to be host, interviewee and audience at the same time, because no one else is willing to listen or talk to him.

And in light of the information we got about his past, I think this is an extremely important part of Bill’s character and personality.

Let’s come back to Euclydia: the anthem/poem on the website emphasizes how close people are (“LOVED ONES WILL BE EVER NEAR”), so it’s very possible Bill grew up surrounded by his loved ones.

And then, one single event and everyone disappeared. All the people who surrounded him one second ago, were gone the second after. “There was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe.”: if this line means solitude for us, just imagine how much, much stronger that same solitude would be for someone who, until that moment, has always been surrounded by others and knew no other reality than that.

That’s another level of solitude: it’s a black void of emptiness, something all-encompassing and all-consuming. It’s a hole carved inside you that nothing will fill ever again. And it was you, the one who carved it.

Of course Bill became insane. Of course he chose to find a justification for his action, by saying that he liberated his dimension and that his people were holding him back. I don’t know what he would’ve done, if he hadn’t. Probably, he wouldn’t have found a way to survive.

But he survived. He repressed his trauma, justified it and kept going towards the stars he was aiming for.

Still, that void was inside him - and we know he tried to fill it. He tried by dating a literal void, for god’s sake. And he tried by surrounding himself with people.

That’s probably why he became who he is: a flashy, flamboyant figure, someone who loves to be the center of attention, because that means having people around. It means people listening to him and being with him and surrounding him again. It means not being alone again.

I mean, just look at this book: every page has something new and interesting, every page is a different attempt to keep you involved, to keep you around and listen.

But an audience can always leave. An audience can stop being around. And that’s probably why Bill searched for someone closer, someone who wouldn’t leave him so soon.

He searched for new loved ones.

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Love and hate

Bill’s love advice put a real smile on my face, because sure, they’re funny, but at their foundation, they all share the same goal: to show to your potential partner your qualities and how you would be able to carry/provide for them and your offspring.

Why is it so funny? Because that’s exactly what every single living being does to attract a potential mate: showing off your colorful feathers, singing louder than others, fighting other rivals, showing how clever you are, using pheromones and special smells. And, for humans, something like, idk, showing how wide your hips were as proof that you would carry healthy babies. Or showing off how wealthy you are, to prove you can take care of your partner and your offspring.

Bill himself follows this mentality, considering advices like “have two of everything to show your wealth” or “show how much calcium you have (aka how healthy you are)”. Heck, he even has a seduction hat which is basically one huge phallic shape!

And, again, this makes me smile, not just because it’s a clear parody of those men who keep showing off their huge, large vehicles. But also because he usually wears a tall top hat. And how funny it would be, if a tall top hat was indeed a way to win a partner in Euclydia? What if that’s how his father got his mother? Please, I want a fanfic or Mr. Cipher entering a place with a top hat big and wide enough to win Mrs. Cipher’s heart (while not accidentally piercing through another shape). I bet it would be hilarious.

Funny love advice aside, I would also point out these two things Bill says:

Love and fear are right next to each other in the brain and, like most humans, Bill also can’t tell the difference (he doesn’t even think there is a difference)

“love is the pupa stage for hate”

The fact Bill mixes love and fear explains why he is like that in general - and with Ford too. If love and fear are the same thing, then there is no difference between flattering someone and threatening them. There is no difference between partying with his friends and scaring the shit out of them. There’s no difference between helping Ford and hurting him. And there’s no difference between allowing him to see Fordtramarine and “joking” about someone coming to steal his eyes.

Also: if “love is the pupa stage for hate”, then Ford coming back after 30 years hating him was completely normal for Bill. It was just how things were supposed to go: first he loved him, now he hates him. Still, same thing. Still worth a place among his freaks. Still worth flirting. For Bill, nothing has changed - just evolved in a natural way.

And yes, this is uber duper fucked up and great material for toxic Billford. But it also makes me think: how did Bill get this mentality? How did he manage to mix love and fear so much? When did it happen?

Inevitably, I think about Euclydia. And inevitably, I think that “the incident” is when Bill mixed the two things.

When he still lived in Euclydia, Bill clearly experienced both love and hate: his mother at least seemed to love him, the other kids didn’t. Bill doesn’t like his optometrist either and we have no clue about his feelings towards his father. Later in his life, Bill recognizes his family and his world tried to blind him/”snuff out his potential” - so, again, something more similar to hate than love.

Then, Bill destroyed his place. He had to deal with a trauma so huge (i.e. experiencing solitude for the first time in his existence), it left a void inside him. A void he decided to suffocate with lies - lies that, in the end, are just half-truths. His place was bad and his family was holding him back! But that was also the place that showed him love for the first time. His people were flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams! But among them, there was also the one who loved him right from the start.

I believe this is when the two feelings got mixed in his brain. In his attempt to justify and cope with his mixed feelings regarding the universe he just destroyed, Bill ended up mixing love and fear together and believing that love is just one stage of hate. Unable to deal with the vastity of solitude, Bill put together justifications for his actions and messed up his own perception of feelings.

The result is someone who is deeply, deeply alone and who desperately keeps searching for love to fill that void… but is unable to do that, because he cannot distinguish between love and hate anymore.

That’s why he has a lot of exes. And that’s why they’re all exes.

But hey, at least there are friends, right? Right?

_______________________________

Bill’s friends are full of potential (especially one of them)

The perfect friend for Bill should be:

alone, outcasted, rejected by society, possibly an orphan looking for a purpose in life (so exactly like him)

completely devoted to him

Which you can see by yourself that this isn’t exactly how a friendship should work. The friend exactly like you can still work, but the friend completely devoted to you who should do everything you want… well, that’s not a friend. That’s not even a pet, because even pets do not follow you around with such lavish adoration.

But somehow, in the vastity of the Multiverse, Bill managed to find some friends. And oh boy, what friends:

Pyronica is a beauty queen AND she has a twin sister AND she dated Hectorgon. Cool, but not enough. I need details. But, like, a lot. Her entire story would suffice (maybe).

Amorphous Shape is invisible to most of the Henchmaniacs. How? Why? Who is she, really? Where is she from? Where is her backstory? Why isn’t it here? I need it here.

Hectorgon was a goddamn sheriff and Bill just throws it like that?! I want his backstory too! I want to know everything about him!

Keyhole hates Pyronica? Why? What happened? Where is all the juicy gossip, Bill? We need the gossip!

And most importantly: a certain someone was part of Bill’s gang. Someone with a photo that has been covered, but it’s still partially visible. And as soon as I saw it, I jumped up on my bed and asked: “Wait… is this Jheselbraum?!”

The answer is yes and thisisnotawebsite confirmed it: she was one of Bill’s Henchmaniacs. And now the right question is: how much do you want The Book of Jheselbraum, from 1 to 10?

I mean:

In the partially crossed-out part about her in TBOB, Bill says she figured something related to dimensions

In the shaman page (TBOB) there is a code: WHICH HENCHMANIAC RATTED ME OUT

In Journal 3, Ford has been saved by her, who sucked him out of the 2D world of Exwhylia

Jheselbraum told Ford that Bill’s “thirst for power caused him to destroy his home dimension - including his parents and everyone else he’d ever known” (Journal 3)

Still in Journal 3, Ford says she spoke of Bill “without anger, but with a calm, steely, clinical resolve to see his reign of terror end”.

In addition to that, let me add this part from thisisnotawebsitedotcom under the code TANTRUM:

I KNOW YOUR CRIMES, CIPHER. TAKING A NEW HOME WILL NOT MAKE UP FOR THE ONE YOU’VE LOST. WHAT YOU DID TO THE COUNTLESS SOULS OF EUCLYDIA- Cipher stopped in his tracks. YOU CHOOSE YOUR WORDS VERY. CAREFULLY. Ciphers henchmen murmured amongst each other, confused. They seemed to have heard conflicting stories about Bill’s past. “You said you liberated the people of your dimension-” LIBERATED THEM FROM THEIR BODIES! DONT LISTEN TO HIM! HE’S A BABY!

Can you see how HUGE the potential is?

What I believe for now is that:

Jheselbraum figured out what Bill really did to his home dimension (i.e. destroying everything and not “liberating” it, as he said to his Henchmaniacs)

She started to actively find ways to stop him from doing the same thing again

She “ratted him out” with Bill’s new potential puppets on Earth

Bill found out she didn’t just rat him out, but found out the truth about Euclydia too and that’s what led to her escaping

She settled closer to a 2D world - maybe to learn more about Bill, maybe because she knew Ford would’ve appeared there

And speaking of that, we have the message on thisisnotawebsitedotcom under the code SEVENEYES:

This is something someone else wrote to her. Someone who told her to escape to a crossed-out Dimension (who guesses that the crossed-out thing was the number 52?). Someone who told her it was against the rules, but it was also the only way to escape him (aka Bill).

And from her code, you can find out the other criminals found new homes as well.

In other words, we have a hidden spy story, in which someone helped Jheselbraum escape from Bill and, in turn, she helped all others escape Bill.

If you don’t want a book about her, about her story as Bill’s henchmaniac and about this whole thing, you are a huge. Fucking. Liar.

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And with that, let’s close part 1 of this umpteenth endless analysis. The next one will come soon and it will be all about Billford.

Yes, I know I already talked about Billford here, but we still haven’t talked about the details in TBOB and Bill’s perspective on it. Also, it’s always nice to talk about Billford.

See you soon~

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I saw a couple of posts here and on ao3 where you talked about how TOA Apollo has a stilted view of romantic relationships. Would you be comfortable explaining that, it got me really interested!

OKAY

SO

gonna be putting this under a cut for length

Apollo and relationships. Specifically, ToA Apollo and relationships.

let's see if I can formulate the thoughts into words.

Right off the bat, Apollo does have a hard time avoiding those red flags (hello, Commodus), so much so that he can see them...he just ignores them.

This already tells us that he doesn't have the healthiest view on relationships, or what specifically a healthy partner would be like.

In RRverse canon, these are all of his confirmed, canon relationships/love interests;

Hyacinthus

Commodus

Naomi

Darren

Latricia

Cyrene

Daphne

Sibyl

(I probably missed some asdfhjk)

Anyway, I've noticed that in canon, Apollo's relationships tend to fall into two categories; Sweet or Sour, we'll call them.

Now the majority on the list are Sweet! They are fulfilling relationships with no indication of any bitter feelings- Apollo is not shy about telling us about his love life, and certainly doesn't keep it from us when a relationship went south.

What I find interesting is that all three of the Sours can help pinpoint Apollo's more jaded/stilted view on romance.

Let's kick off with Daphne.

First things first, Apollo is quite literally forced to fall in love with her. Like. That has GOT to screw with a guy. What's more, is that when Apollo explains to us how Eros's arrows work;

What people do not understand: Eros’s arrows can’t summon emotion from nothing. They can only cultivate potential that is already there. Daphne and I could have been a perfect pair. She was my true love. She could have loved me back. Yet thanks to Eros, my love-o-meter was cranked to one hundred percent, while Daphne’s feelings turned to pure hate (which is, of course, only the flip side of love). Nothing is more tragic than loving someone to the depths of your soul and knowing they cannot and will not ever love you back. The stories say I chased her on a whim, that she was just another pretty dress. The stories are wrong. - The Hidden Oracle

There's an implication that he and Daphne may have actually been...friends. Or at the very least acquaintances.

It's never stated in canon when Daphne happened, and the mythology itself is weird about the timeline, but it certainly happened earlier in Apollo's life.

Imagine being forced to fall madly in love with someone you know and they are made to despise you.

The self-confidence definitely took a blow here.

What's more...

When she begged Gaea to turn her into a laurel tree in order to escape me, part of my heart hardened into bark as well.

Apollo tells us plainly that what happened with Daphne shook his views on romantic endeavors. Though, it didn't keep him from engaging in romance, either.

Now, back to Commodus real quick. We already covered the No Red Flag Bell with him, and honestly, I won't spend too much time here because I got a whole meta list waiting to dissect these two XD

But Sibyl reveals something else about Apollo and romance- sometimes, he sees it as transactional.

The story of Apollo and Sibyl does differ from the mythology of them- in mythology, Sibyl tricks Apollo into granting her a long life, and he kinda just shrugs and says 'okay, but you didn't ask for eternal youth either so...whoops?'

In ToA, Rick switches it up a bit by having Apollo grant Sibyl a long life after she jokes about it, and when she further rebuffs him, he curses her with no eternal youth.

Alas, I knew what I’d been thinking—that she was a pretty young woman I wanted to get with, despite the fact that she was my Sibyl. Then she’d outsmarted me, and being the bad loser that I was, I had cursed her. - The Tyrant's Tomb

I promised you life, not youth. You can have your centuries of existence. You will remain my Sibyl. I cannot take those things away, once given. But you will grow old. You will wither. You will not be able to die.

Yeah, it sounds like Apollo more or less curses her with no eternal youth here.

(Daily disclaimer that mythology Apollo's love life is actually very good and you should read up on it :3)

Back to the transactional thing-

"You cannot refuse payment." “Payment?” She balled her hands into fists. “You dare think of me as a transaction?” “I didn’t mean—Obviously, I wasn’t—”

Now, do I think Apollo sees all relationships as transactional? No. But let's consider the Olympian influence for a moment here.

Olympus in the RRverse is rather fucked, no doubt about it. The gods do not help without first being given something, and that permeates through their whole lifestyles.

Apollo's not being transactional because ✨misogyny✨. He's being transactional because that's what he's been raised to believe. If he gives something, he gets something back. That goes for all the gods, male and female and everything in between.

Bacchus helps the demigods in Mark of Athena because they paid tribute to him. Whenever a god extends aid, burnt offerings are made in thanks- which is probably part of the reason why Hera got angry with Annabeth when she refused to give her burnt offerings in The Battle of the Labyrinth after she helped her on her quest.

Apollo doesn't seem to be as picky as some (ie, The Titan's Curse, where he helps out to help out. You can argue he got his sister back in exchange but that's not really typical godly exchange lol), but it's clear that mindset has somewhat transferred over into relationships.

Now, I also want to talk about how Hyacinthus affected him- because let's be real, he was the one that affected him the most without outside interference (looking at you, Eros).

Apollo has told us time and again that Hyacinthus was one of, if not his greatest, love. His death really left a mark on him, and I am of the firm belief that it's that mark that made him wary of forming too close of a relationship with others- even when he tries to convince them and himself they are his One True Love™️, it falls flat inside his own head.

Because let's face it- that spot is occupied by Hyacinthus, and the hole he left in Apollo's heart.

This isn't to say Apollo loves his other lovers less- heck no! Love is one of his defining qualities. He has much love in him!

It's just that Hyacinthus had a particular impact on him, and how he views relationships.

*vibrates in Hyapollo multific* I have...my own personal ideas...on what that entails...

And we see how touch-and-go Apollo is with other lovers! As soon as Commodus becomes emperor, he's gone. And only comes back in disguise, never revealing himself until he kills him.

Naomi, Darren, and Latricia are all obviously loving relationships from what we can gather, but it's clear it was never long-term.

Cyrene, really, is where I'd argue he got the closest to a long-term relationship with a mortal-ish person, but even so, they aren't in a permanent long-term relationship either.

Hyacinthus, however? I can see he and Apollo maintaining an everlasting romance.

...Also because that is exactly what happens according to the Spartans and who are we to deny what the Spartans declared about their national hero?

The only other exceptions to this I can see are his relationships with the Muses and (hello, fellow Apricity shippers) Boreas.

But even so...the Muses give off like, 'married co-workers' vibes, if that makes sense, and Boreas is more or less a winter fling (fandom forgive me, you know I am a shipper🫡)

Anyway. Hope this rambling makes sense or at least provides a platform for someone to put coherent thoughts together lmao

In conclusion: sometimes Apollo is transactional in relationships because of the culture he was raised in, and he has commit issues because of just how hard Hyacinthus's death hit him :)

have fun pondering :3

[fandom-discussions-with-avery]

Lumity: wasted potential of the show

Lumity isn't as bad as Huntlow. They were planned since the beginning, they had time for development, even if it was a bit rushed. But they still have writing problems that we should address:

1. Amity's character almost dissapeared. During first season she was the most interesting character out of all, despite the fact that her arc was rushed and involved retcone. But after her redemption, she turned into sweet awkward nerdy girl. It's not realistic in any way to become completely different person in a couple of months, and it also made her boring. She's the second of three ex-villians who got the same new characterisation, which is bad by itself, but she also lost her special chemistry with Luz which we saw in Grom episode. This episode was Lumity's peak you can't deny it

2. Amity is just Luz's gf and nothing more. She has nothing to wish except being with Luz and seeing her being happy. No ambitions, no goals, no new friends. Just Luz. She thinks only about her, she talks only about her, she does everything only when it's about Luz. Only exception is Reaching Out, but it was also turned into Luz's thing. As much as I hate Huntlow, Hunter at least had something except love for Willow. It's bad not only because it makes Lumity a copy of awful mlw couple trope, it also doesn't show hurmful tendency (dependence on a partner and being obsessed with them) as something bad.

3. Lumity made Luz look bad. You know, dating your first friend's ex bestie and ex main bully is kinda messed up. It wouldn't be that problematic if Willow and Amity had already become friends again, but it's not what we've got.

4. Mistrust between Luz and Amity. I agree that the reason is that Luz is a bully victim and Amity reacted hurshly several times when Luz did something wrong. But it doesn't change the fact that it shows another hurmful idea that good partner has to forgive every bad thing and in the wrong for being offended. This moment of Amity would be cute if it appeared ones and clearly showed that she has changed and now she's much more patient with Luz. But in canon, Amity just allows Luz to treat herself like shit bu lying to her (and not only her) over and over again. And Luz lying three times (even if lie about Belos is justified) about things that are important for their shared future and for Amity's safety don't paint her in a good light. There's a line between not being too hursh to partner when they did something wrong and being a doormat for a partner because you were wrong in the past.

5. Imbalance in the effort invested in the relationship. As it is clear from my points that I made earlier, Luz is everything to Amity, while Amity for Luz is just a girlfriend. Amity's doing everything for Luz (which is not good), while Luz isn't even prioritize saving Amity over just being with Eda. In season three they barely interact at all. And now it isn't about Luz being the wrong one: it wasn't the right time for cute couple stuff. Actually, if you think about it, Luz's attitude towards Amity is much healthier. It's just too miserable to see Amity being Luz's loyal puppy who buried all her goals and ambitions, while Luz treating Amity like she treats other friends.

In conclusion, I don't say that they had to be like catr*dora or stol*z, no way. Healthy relationship should be portrayed in media, especially for kids. But there's the difference between being called healthy and being actually healthy. Lumity isn't abusive, isn't even toxic, it's just not a relationship goal. In the ideal world, their flaws should've been addressed and resolved in the show, so they can actually become healthy couple.