#with angst along the way

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part four)

(part one)(part two)(part three)

Eddie wakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep, his head on his pillow now, which is somehow far less comfortable than Steve’s solid chest. Speaking of… Eddie looks around; Steve isn’t there at all anymore, and Eddie is alone. He’s disappointed, though not entirely surprised, that Harrington’s left him again despite his promises. 

In fact, he’s honestly more surprised when less than two minutes into his wallowing in the empty room, the door is pushed open by none other than Steve Harrington carrying two trays of food, one balanced on each hand like a goddamn waiter. It’s kind of adorable, actually, Eddie thinks, and that thought surprises him a little too. 

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” Steve sets one of the trays on Eddie’s lap. His smile is bright, though there’s a slight, uncertain wobble to it. “Shitty hospital food and shitty hospital TV, right?” 

“Right.” Eddie’s face breaks into a grin, something light unfurling in his chest. He glances at the plate of gross food on his lap then back up at Steve, and he admits, “You know, for a second there I thought you’d left again.” 

Steve shakes his head as he settles into the chair beside the bed with his own tray. “I promised you I’d hang out today. I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.” Eddie smiles and grabs a remote off the bedside table, turning on the TV. “Now for our mealtime entertainment, let’s see what’s on the shitty TV today.”

The television starts blaring some old black-and-white rerun of I Love Lucy. Eddie’s immediately about to change the channel, but then he notices the way Steve’s eyes have lit up. “Hey, that’s not shitty TV!” Steve says. “I used to watch this with my mom all the time when I was a kid.” 

Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.”  

Steve gives him an indignant look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Eddie shakes his head evasively, shoveling a forkful of rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, almost affectionately, like they’ve had conversations like this before. He chews on a flimsy piece of bacon and makes a face, nose scrunching up. “Ugh, you really weren’t kidding about the shitty food, though.” 

“Nope,” Eddie laughs, “I really wasn’t. Thanks for catering it though.” He swallows down another mouthful of food, and then adds with a little less levity, “And, uh, thanks for last night, too - for calming me down. Don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Steve gives a small smile, shrug, slight shake of his head, a tiny pinch between his brows like he doesn't quite get why Eddie even feels the need to thank him for that. “That's what I’m here for. I just hope I didn't cross any boundaries or anything, holding onto you like that.” 

Now it's Eddie's turn to give him a confused little smile and a head shake. “No, of course not. That was exactly what I needed.” He attempts to add some humor back into the conversation, jokingly quips, “Although, to be fair, I never did think that King Steve would ever be caught dead in a bed with The Freak.”

Steve had hazarded another bite of his breakfast, trying the eggs this time, only to choke on it at Eddie’s comment. He coughs, hits his fist against his chest, and hurriedly takes a sip from the water bottle on his tray. 

“Jesus.” Eddie tries not to take offense, assuming Steve’s reaction to be one of disgust at the double entendre. “That bad of a thought, huh?” 

Steve shakes his head and clears his throat, face flushed. “No, no, it’s not that, man. Food just went down the wrong pipe, is all.” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Seriously.” Steve gulps down some more water, quiet for a moment before adding, “You know I’m not King Steve anymore, right? Haven’t been for a while now, since even long before your memories end.” 

“Yeah, I know. You ditched Tommy H. and Carol your junior year, and then Nancy Wheeler dumped you and Billy Hargrove stole your crown and bashed your face in your senior year, I remember,” Eddie recalls. “But for the most part you were still well-known and well-liked, still this popular, pretty, rich boy jock all the girls still drooled over, so.” He shrugs. “Always figured ‘King’ still fit.” 

“Right…” Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie lists off these events of his life, looking at him with a smirk of barely-hidden amusement. “I forgot you were obsessed with me.”  

Eddie’s jaw drops in exaggerated offense. “I was not obsessed with you.” 

“Were too,” Steve taunts.

“Was not.” 

“Were too.” 

“Was not.” Eddie chucks a piece of bacon at him. 

Steve gasps indignantly as the bacon slaps him in the face and tumbles onto his lap. “You child!” But he’s laughing, retaliates by flinging a forkful of eggs back at Eddie. 

The conversation devolves into a full-on food fight, shrieking and cackling as they pelt each other with flying bits of eggs and bacon. It turns out shitty hospital food serves far better as ammunition than it does as anything actually edible. 

A nurse chooses the exact wrong time to decide to come in and check on Eddie, walking into the room at just the right moment to be caught in the crossfire and hit with a stray chunk of egg. Both boys freeze. 

“Uh oh…” Eddie mutters under his breath. Just his luck - it’s not the young, nice nurse, Katie, who always laughs at his jokes, but Nurse Margaret, the old, mean one who he’s never once seen crack a smile. She flicks the egg bit off her shoulder, leveling them with a stern frown as she marches over. 

Eddie casts a furtive glance at Steve who looks back at him, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh again, and Eddie feels mirth bubbling back up in his own chest too. He has to look away from Steve again before he loses it. 

He sucks his lips in, clamping them together between his teeth to hold in his laughter, and he stares up at Margaret with a thin-lipped, guilty, upside down smile as she chides them both for making a mess and scolds Eddie for exerting himself and risking reopening his wounds. Steve mumbles an apology and starts cleaning up the scattered bits of food strewn about the room while Margaret double checks that Eddie hasn’t, in fact, reopened his wounds or gotten worse in any way. Once the nurse is satisfied with both the state of the room and the state of Eddie, she whisks away what’s left of their food trays and stalks out of the room with one last disapproving look over her shoulder.

Then and only then does Eddie risk eye-contact with Steve again, and the two of them immediately burst back into laughter. Steve nearly doubles over with it, leaning against the trash can where he’d just been dusting off his hands. “Oh my god,” he chuckles out. “Her face when I hit her with that egg? I was so sure she was gonna kick me out.” 

“Nearly gave mean old Margaret an aneurysm, and that was just from hitting her shoulder,” Eddie snickers. “Imagine if you hit her in the eye or something.” 

Steve does his best impression of Margaret’s angry scowl and reproachful huff, and Eddie cackles. He laughs so hard his sides ache and his injuries hurt, wounds aggravated by the movement of his laughter, but he doesn’t care, the pain far too distant beneath the cushion of painkillers and positive emotion he currently feels so high on. 

“You’ve still got some egg in your hair,” Steve notices with another amused snort as he pushes himself away from the trash can and approaches Eddie’s bed again. He plucks the offending bit of food out of Eddie’s curls and smooths down the hair where it had been stuck. “There.” 

Steve’s fingertips brush ever so lightly against Eddie’s cheek when he fixes his hair. It sends a pleasant sort of shiver down Eddie’s spine, turning his laughter to breathless giggles just for a moment. “Thanks.”

Steve flicks the egg chunk into the trash before sinking back into the bedside chair with a soft sigh and a warm smile. “God, I missed this,” he says, “just laughing with you.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie returns the grin. For him, of course, this is the first time they’ve laughed together like this, but he has to admit he’s already rather fond of it. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard.”

Steve’s smile turns nostalgic, like he can remember the last time Eddie laughed like that, like he was there for it. “It’s a good look on you - laughter,” he says, so quietly Eddie almost feels like maybe it wasn’t meant for him to hear. And Eddie can’t help but think that laughter is a pretty good look on Steve too, all rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

“How did we become friends?” Eddie asks, before his previous thought can take any sort of root. 

The nostalgia in Steve’s expression only grows. “It was the beginning of June, start of summer, probably only a few weeks after your memories stop. I was working at the Scoops Ahoy in Starcourt, that new mall that had just opened, and you wandered in,” he says, looking at Eddie with a teasing glint to his eyes, “because you were obsessed with me-”

“Was not,” Eddie protests immediately.

“Were too,” Steve laughs. “Anyways, you saw me in my stupid little sailor uniform trying and very obviously failing to chat up a girl at the counter, and you came in just to laugh at me, actually.” 

“Okay, that does sound like me,” Eddie concedes with a grin. He probably walked in there just for the sailor costume alone, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s something he’d kill to see - just for a good laugh, of course. “Do you still have that uniform? It might, you know, jog my memory a little if you were to bring it in one day,” he suggests slyly. 

“You and that uniform, man,” Steve scoffs and shakes his head like this is something they’ve talked about many, many times before, enough for it to become a predictable sort of annoyance, a longsuffering inside joke. “No, I don’t still have it. Threw it out first chance I had, not to mention it got totally ruined when the- uh, when the mall burned down.” 

Eddie’s eyes go slightly wide. “The mall burned down? While you were there?” 

“Yeah- well, sort of,” Steve falters, a shadow falling over his expression, and he shakes his head again. “It’s kind of a long story, and not the one I’m telling right now.” 

“Right, yeah, shit.” Eddie waves his hand as if to erase everything he’d said before. “Forget I mentioned it.” He, more than anyone, understands not wanting to relive bad memories right now. “Continue the other story. How did we go from me making fun of you to us being besties?”

The shadow lifts as Steve returns to that memory. “Oh, yeah. I told you the show wasn’t free and that you needed to order something or leave. So you bought a milkshake, which I somehow managed to end up completely spilling all over the both of us when I tried to hand it to you. You were livid,” he chuckles, “thought I’d done it on purpose, even though I definitely hadn’t. I felt so bad I insisted on helping you clean up. You were icy about it, but you let me show you to the sink in the backroom and accepted the jacket I lent you so you wouldn’t have to walk around with ice cream stains on your shirt all day.” 

“That’s quite the meet-cute,” Eddie jokes. “Are you sure you’re describing our friendship and not some rom-com chick flick you watched last week?” 

“Nah, true story, honest. It wasn’t a rom-com,” Steve says, and though he smiles, there’s an odd sadness to it too. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyways, you clearly warmed up to me after that because you came back the next day to return the jacket and apologize for being a bit of a dick before, and then you gave me this whole ‘you’re actually a good dude’ speech and told me to give you a call if I ever wanted to split a joint or something. I took you up on it that same night; it had been a rough day at work and I figured why not, so I came over and we smoked and we talked and we got along like a house on fire - better than either of us expected, I think. And that was our thing, then, after that - smoking and talking. Sometimes weed, sometimes just cigarettes, and sometimes we just smoked and didn’t talk, and then sometimes we just talked and didn’t smoke; until eventually we started doing other things together too besides just talking and smoking, we were just hanging out. At that point we were friends, practically inseparable, and then we-” Steve stops himself, a shade of melancholy reentering his dim smile once more. “We only got closer from there.” 

“That sounds nice…” Eddie tries to remember it, really digs deep in his mind for any sort of spark of memory or recognition in Steve’s words, but it’s empty. It all just sounds like a story to him, doesn’t settle anywhere real. It’s a good story, sure, one he’d like to experience, one he aches to connect with, but a story nonetheless, only words, only fiction. “I wish I could remember that.” 

“Me too,” Steve says, and Eddie hates how sad he looks, hates even more that he’s the cause of it. 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to make new memories, then!” Eddie declares with a theatrical amount of enthusiasm as he flashes Steve a bright grin, all in the hopes of chasing that sadness back off of his face. “Won’t we, my friend?” 

Success; Steve seems a little startled by Eddie’s sudden gusto, but he laughs and smiles, the real kind this time that shines in his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Eddie does his best to keep the conversation away from their past after that, not only in an attempt to keep the light in Steve’s expression but for his own sake too. It’s a strange thing to be reminded of the fact that he shares a history with someone and has no memory of it, to be around someone who seems to know everything about him while he feels as though they’ve only just met.

For the most part, hanging out with Steve is nice and fun and easy - there’s something so natural, familiar, about the way they talk, the way they banter, the way they sit together even in the silences. But sometimes Eddie will say something that makes a sadness flicker in Steve’s eyes again, or sometimes Steve will say something that makes Eddie wonder just what secrets this guy knows about him and his skin crawls with that old discomfited itch. They’re both quick with a joke, a redirection, whenever the other’s expression falters, though, like Steve is trying to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel uncomfortable just as much as Eddie is trying to make sure Steve doesn’t feel sad. 

Other visitors come in and out of Eddie’s room that day too: Dustin stops by with a portable cassette player and some newer heavy metal albums that came out during the period Eddie no longer remembers, which brings more than one source of entertainment as it also incurs Nurse Margaret’s wrath again when they listen to it too loud. Wayne drops in with some actually edible fast food for lunch and a deck of cards, playing a few rounds of a few games. Nurse Katie checks in on him to redress his wounds and she laughs at his stories of annoying Margaret. Even Steve has to leave a couple times, says he has errands to run or needs to pick up Robin from work, but he promises to be back each time and each time he is. 

Night has fallen now, and it’s just Eddie and Steve again, Steve sitting, as always, beside Eddie’s bed as they watch whatever cheesy old movie is playing on TV while Eddie fights off sleep. He fears it still; each wave of drowsiness that washes over him is met with a shiver in his heart that breathes ice into his veins and freezes him awake. 

After about Eddie’s hundredth attempt to suppress a yawn, Steve turns off the TV and looks at him. “Are you tired?” 

“No,” Eddie says, only for his lie to be almost immediately undermined by another traitorous yawn. “Alright, yeah, I am, but- I don’t want to sleep,” he admits. “I don’t want to dream.”

“Oh.” Steve’s gaze softens, sympathetic. For the first time unprompted, not waiting for a nightmare or for Eddie to ask like he always had before, Steve moves closer and takes Eddie’s hand. “I’ve got you, you know,” he says, the statement fierce in its sincerity. “It’ll be alright. I’ll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands if I have to.” 

Steve’s hand is warm against the chill in Eddie’s blood, the heat of his skin seeping in to thaw his fear. “I don’t think a nightmare is something you can fight,” Eddie says, cracking a smile, but looking at Steve now, he can almost believe it. 

There’s a new sort of spark in Steve’s eyes, protective, devoted, and it burns the way a fire in the hearth of a home burns, like something dangerous made safe just for him. Eddie suddenly doesn’t doubt, somehow, that Steve could fight off anything, even something as intangible as a nightmare, if it was threatening Eddie. With Steve here holding his hand, he somehow doesn’t doubt that not a single thing can hurt him. Not a single thing would even dare try. 

And not a single thing does. 

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve.

(part five!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list)

[litt1e-prince]

"Who's your friend, MK?"

INSPIRED BY THE FIC: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46162438/chapters/116212117

Which, if you 'haven't read yet- why not?? go read it now!! It's literally so good, its so good- had me crying- LIKE. I WANNA FIGHT WUKONG FROM THIS FIC SOOOO BAD but at the same time,,, i wanna hug him and bring him nice things and make sure he's safe and happy! The author writes so amazingly and aaaah! the pain!!!!

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: pregnancy, kids (you guys have a daughter together), fwb’s, angst with a bit of a hopeful ending, refers to you as ‘girl’ once

Friends with benefits Bakugou who never really got over his ego to fully commit to you. You’re a little ashamed to admit it, but when you fell pregnant, you thought that things would change. That the whole “no feelings” aspect would’ve been dropped, that he would’ve embraced you fully.

But he just…didn’t? If anything, he distanced himself away from you, became so formal like you were another coworker he would address. It was heartbreaking, going through your first pregnancy feeling so, so alone, but having to grin and bear it the whole way through.

He supported you though in every way that he could. He never missed an appointment, would trek to your house during late nights whenever you craved something. He even moved you in to his own apartment during your last trimester, but a couple months after your baby was born, you went back home. You never felt unwelcome, but you couldn’t pretend to be a happy family when he slept in the guest room every night.

So now, you coparent quite easily. At least, it seems easy to Bakugou, but really, it’s all a facade.

In all honesty? He thinks he’s a fuck up. An idiot. The stupidest, shittiest person who’s ever existed.

He thought what he was doing was enough, that the words he didn’t say carried across oceans, formulated into titles that he never verbalized. So when you told him you would be happy to coparent, his world felt upended suddenly, as he holds his tiny little baby girl in his arms.

Coparent? How could a couple coparent? Where did he go wrong? (He only slept in the guest room to give you and baby space, only moved you in late because you lived so far away and you were getting so big. He never said I love you because he was too embarrassed to say it out loud. He didn’t know he had to say it out loud to solidify it. He thought you just knew.)

So it’s why his heart breaks when he catches a glimpse of curly blond hair and red eyes in the grocery store. He tries to duck behind an aisle, but his baby would recognize him anywhere. (It’s true; you’ve sent many videos of her recognizing him on billboards and tv commercials and magazines.)

“Bakugou?” You call, ducking around the corner to catch a glimpse of him. He tries to act nonchalant like he’s looking at cans of soup, tries not to cringe at your formal name. He turns when you come into view, eyes drinking in your attire. His heart breaks a little when he recognizes the shirt you took in your second trimester, still has the pic you sent him of you grinning as you show off what you stole.

“Hey.” Bakugou greets gruffly, mouth pulled tight, but it cracks into a grin when his daughter starts squealing. She’s in the front part of the shopping cart, twisting her little chunky body to get out and get to him. She damn near screams when he sets his basket down to pick her up, rubbing his nose to hers.

“How ya doing, squirt?” He asks quietly, pecking at her chubby cheeks as she instantly starts babbling to him. He holds her close to his chest, eyes full of pure love for his baby girl, and it makes your heart squeeze so tight you think it might burst.

“This isn’t your neck of the woods.” You mutter, head tilting to the side as you take in your daughters excited face to see her father. Bakugou’s eyes snap to your own, letting his daughter play with his fingers in the meanwhile. He looks embarrassed, cheeks a dusty pink as he grumbles and looks away.

“I was just picking up some stuff to drop off for her. Was gonna text you and see if you were home,” he replies, and something tells you that it’s a lie. But you don’t pester him about it, just nod a few times, taking in the sight.

He looks so good like that, in his compression shirt and sweats, his hair mussed from your daughters incessant pulling. He’s grinning at her, but looks so bashful when he turns to you, like he’s thinking about things he knows he shouldn’t, like he has a boatload to say but can’t cough up.

And if you were a mind reader, you’d be so fucking right. He can’t help but reminisce on before you got pregnant, the nights spent with you. The day you told him you were having a girl, the tears you cried when you delivered her. He thinks, filled with so much guilt the entire time, that he wants another one. With you.

“‘S it okay if I walk my favorite girls home?” He asks you gruffly, nibbling on your daughters cheeks to hear her giggle again, uncaring of the drool she leaves on his hand. You feel your eyes widen at his term for you, face suddenly flushing. Favorite? You, his favorite?

Something tells you that you shouldn’t fall down the rabbit hole that is Bakugou Katsuki and his suppressed emotions and shitty ego. But there’s another something that tells you to trust it this time, to let things happen organically and without expectation. So you do.

“I’m sure she would love to show her daddy the new toy her grandma just brought her.” You tell him, giggling when he rolls his eyes at the mention of his mother. But he walks with you the entire time you finish up your grocery order, holding your daughter the whole time and pays for your groceries despite repeatedly telling him that he doesn’t have to.

He pushes her in the stroller stored underneath the shopping cart on the way home, making small conversation. And when you’re halfway home, does he reach for your hand. Only to cross the cross walk though, he tells himself, only for your protection. But he doesn’t let go until you’re in your own place, and even then, he’s close by the entire time. He helps you put away groceries, remembers where everything is like he lives here.

And for some reason, the familiarity makes your heart ache a little more than you would like it to.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking about step 9 and the whole concept of forgiveness of one’s self and others and it bringing healing and how bobby and Eddie have been paralleled a fair amount and the idea that Eddie started this process back at the end of s5 with his forgiveness and acceptance of his father but how he hasn’t yet gone anywhere near his mother and their relationship .

How his catholic guilt storyline seems more likely to play on his reltionship with his mother than his father (if his father wasn’t around that much it would’ve been Helena taking him to church etc each week) so the idea of an Eddie - Helena storyline that plays on catholic guilt and potentially his queerness in relation to that has me chewing on glass - it could be so epically good

[chloecherrysip]

"I hope you told your brother how much you loved him, because you're probably never gonna see him again."

"..."

"Was that too dark?"

"YES!"

"Sorry."

[akiizayoi4869]

I'm just gonna say it. If Azula is such a monster,

so is Zuko.

No no no, you see, he was always misunderstood! He was abused by Ozai and thus didn't know any better, and as such any and all actions he did before he got redeemed should be ignored😌.

Isn't it funny how fandumb will say "they were abused!" to excuse Zuko's actions and the fact that Ursa wasn't that great of a mother, and yet this same argument seemingly never applies to Azula? Gotta wonder why that is🤔

[plumilia]

hear me out: orv tsubasa chronicle au

[wyrdle]

Sliding some TrainerClavell AU doodles here, as discussed with @ameftowriter​ haha.

The TLDR for this AU is that Clavell takes MC’s place, saving Miraidon & Koraidon during the start game where he hands you your pokemon. He travels around Paldea as Clive for Team Star, has an accidental rivalry with Nemona as Clive, and helps Arven out with finding Herba mystica. AU details here.

The opportunity for Clive hilarity in contrast to the devastating angst of meeting AI versions of your once close, now dead, friends. Deliciousss. Clavell has a lot on his plate lol. Lord help me, why can I only make chicken scratch doodles these days sdlkfjngds.

[robbed-ghost]

Jon silently making contingencies about every doomsday he can imagine. Jon using all he knows about investigative journalism to make sure none of the evil universes he keeps encountering are permanent problems. Jon knowing every persons weakness because he’s paranoid making sure there’s not an injustice-like event in his world. Jon making friends but making sure he can take them down if the worst comes, too.

[adipostsstuff]

The 'Es is Mikoto's younger sister' crack-but-not-really theory post

@74n5n don't say I don't do things for you.

This is mainly a joke theory I thought of randomly but when I thought about it more there was actually a lot of evidence for it so I'm going to compile a list of it here.

They have similar appearances, doen to their ahoges. I reblogged a post earlier about this one.

Es is a similar age to what Mikoto claims his sister to be (early high school age)

Mikoto calls his younger sister brilliant. I don't know about you but I consider memorising large sections of law, psychology and philosophy to be pretty brilliant. They canonically "have a thirst for knowledge" and enjoy learning about new things and may possibly be the most learned person here despite having thr least amount of lived experience.

Es refers to themself as 'uchi' in his second voice drama, which a less formal and more childish pronoun rather than 'boku' like they usually do, which may indicate dropping their guard in front of him and becoming more comfortable around him. This is the only time they refer to themselves as that. (Credits to @/somokoto for pointing this out.) (Side note: it is somewhat amusing to me that the characters Es seems to be closest to are the ones voted guilty trial 1.)

The rest of this is mainly behavioural similarities which isn't actually evidence and more so parallels but I'm going to list them anyways.

5. Both are prone to overworking themselves.

6. Both are a lot stronger than they appear to be. Mikoto is "a normal man with average build" yet he is the 3rd strongest prisoner out of the lot. Es and Kotoko both point out that their physique is not very strong yet they fucking knocked Kazui off of his chair. Sure, he was taken by surprise, and they were quite panicked, but Kazui is heavy and Es is tiny. They should not have the muscle to do that from their appearance alone but they do. They could probably vault half of the prisoners across the room and they wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

7. Onto the last point, both (well, John more so than Mikoto, but he is just a different aspect of him) have violent instincts, which is something they share with many others and is likely the result of forgotten trauma.

8. Both have identity issues and dissociate.

9. Also I believe in the "Es committed a murder in the past" theory so that in this context is very funny. Siblings who kill and then forget about it entirely separately.

Like, I do not believe thus will actually happen because I'm not sure where to fit that in narratively and it seems like a pretty big reveal to just gloss over, and also you would think Mikoto would recognise his own younger sister (unless he's been away from home for that long and hasn't been able to return, which, given his work situation, isn't entirely implausible), but it would be wild if it were to come true.

[littleseasalt]

"forever is a bad dad to richa-" SHUT UP!!!!!

[mammomlette]

thinking about how Belphie’s situation in s1 is so Blackbird (the song) coded

(Because I never stop thinking of lesson 16 and Belphie in season1 I could go on a word rampage about that arc.)

warnings: SPOILERS FOR LESSON 16 OBEY ME lesson 16 is its own warning guys

Notes: I basically just rewrote the s1 Belphie plot line. That’s it. It’s basically the exact same but written narratively lol. Also!! I plan on writing part 3 of the obey me as soulmate tropes (barb and dia are already done) but Solomon’s part is giving me such a creative block for some reason so it’s taking a while! Sorry!

Constructive criticism welcomed :)

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,”

Shouts for help echoed through the hallways of the House of Lamentation. Why did it seem nobody but you (and the man who tried stopping you from approaching the attic, Lucifer) could hear them?

You snook your way around the house, trying to avoid the stars visible from Lucifer’s doorway and other places you’ve seen him roam at night. Even if he was distracted listening to Levi’s TSL vinyl, you didn’t want to risk it. You were determined to go up to the attic and listen to the voice shouting for you to please help, so you could free whatever may be trapped up there or at least hear it out.

You thought for a moment his calls for help sounded akin to a blackbird singing a morning’s song, though there are no mornings in the eternal darkness of the devildom; only the dead of night forever.

“Take these broken wings and learn to fly,”

You carefully made your way up the stairs, “MC, finally, no one is going to stop you. Now’s your chance to climb the stairs.” How did this voice know your name? More importantly, why are they asking you for help? What got them up there in the first place?

Your internal questions halted when you finally came face to face with the person behind the caged door of the attic. He never said his name, however he did ask you for help, and who were you if not humane? You’re here as a human, after all. He instructed to you to make pacts with the six demon brothers, starting with Beelzebub, in order to gain the power to free him. Your heart hurt for the poor human who claimed to have been locked away for so long they’ve forgotten who they are and how long exactly they’ve been locked away.

Make pacts with my brothers, learn to set me free.

“All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive.”

Belphie has been waiting for so long, months now spent just sitting in the same room, air long turned stale. He could tell you exactly how many boards were on the floor and cobwebs were in the corners of the room. Of course, his brother had to lock him away. Of course, his brother chose Diavolo’s rule over his own little brother.

Finally, after so long, there was finally something. A human no less, who had finally managed to enter the attic. If it had to be a human who would save him, so what?

He had been waiting so long for this moment to arrive. A moment to be free again, and even a moment to seek revenge.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,”

All Belphie heard at night now was the voice of this human. It’s strange how much comfort its grown to bring him, given his plan. But the voice of his brothers and his dead twin would be much more comforting to hear, and his sister was a much more comforting presence.

He knows he won’t miss you when you’re gone, or else he just wouldn’t go through with it, he just wouldn’t continue to manipulate you into working to free him just for him to kill you. But he will miss the routine of having a concerned voice chirping at him in the dead of night while everyone else is asleep. He’s sure Beel will suffice.

“Take these sunken eyes and learn to see,”

At last the moment came, you had finally freed him, even if you weren’t there when the cage opened, he knows it was you. Had you finally made a pact with Lucifer? Is that why he’s free? Credit given where credit is due, you were surprisingly competent for a human. It’s a shame the fate that befalls you. The fate Belphie has the power of stopping, but chooses not to.

Your eyes were so tired he noticed in the brighter lighting of purgatory hall. Sunken and tarnished by dark bags. Was this the result of your late night visits to the attic? Had you just been working too hard? Who knows, I’d rather, who cares? Any pity he felt, he swallowed down and it was quickly drowned by his seething and growing hatred for your kind. Maybe in another life, he and Lilith would be sneaking down into the human world to watch you and your kin, but not anymore. You can’t teach him to see humans as more than vermin.

“All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

A humans life is always only building up to death. It’s what every human spends their life anticipating, waiting for the sweet relief or curdling torture of death. Would you feel dread in your last moments? Perhaps irony? He never could grow fond enough of you to change his plans, but you did plant an invasive seed of interest in him. He hates how he wants to understand you now more than ever, how does the human mind and spirit face death? Are you different from the countless other humans he’s killed? Are you more accepting?

It’s sad to say that the only regret he has from killing you is not making it last long enough for you to express your final thoughts to him. If only he had dragged your death out longer, given you time and air to carefully pick out your last words, maybe even a last emotion shared just with him. The thought of wanting to be the one to see your dying face, hear your dying thoughts and feel your dying senses feels quite intimate for a murderer and the murdered. Maybe in another life you weren’t unfortunate enough to be born as a human. In another life, he thinks. He dwells on the ‘ifs’ too often.

It’s only natural for humans to die. They wait their entire life for that moment of freedom, really he gifted you by killing you while you were still well loved by those around you, his brothers. Oh, his brothers will be mad… they’ll get over it, in time. They can’t love you enough to stay mad at their sweet little brother, right?

[fantasticalchaos]

Thinking of the thought that Danny is in two friendship groups (Secret Trio/Quartet/Group and the Nicktoons) that has someone (Randy and Timmy) that'll eventually have their memories wiped and has to deal with that twice...

[uncanny-tranny]

When you grow up, you might feel afraid that you would hate your older self if you met them. It's weird to imagine that you could be so different than who you are now.

I think it's freeing, though, to have grown so much that you would almost be unrecognizable. There are still glimmers of who I was in the mosaic of who I am today, but I have grown and developed in such a way that... I am not just me anymore. I think that's a big aspect of growing. You won't always be this way, and that realization can make it easier to embody everything you want to be because now you aren't chained to the idea that you can only be one way, that you are beholden to everything around you.

[anticidic]

Today I'm thinking about a fallen angel Soukoku AU.

Dazai was cast down from the heavens and lost his wings and halo and has one of two options:

Either try to earn the goodwill back to reclaim his position among the angels

Screw it, assimilate into the mortal realm

He's a total oddball and sticks out pretty badly while trying to adjust to the customs of humans in general but also Japan-specific customs so people either think he's an oddball foreigner or he's just...yeah. He sometimes slips and calls people humans.

Dazai's also super nosy so when he comes across Chuuya, he has no shame in just walking up to Chuuya and asking about his hair and his eye color and how magnificent that combination is because he's never seen it in another person yet!

Chuuya's also a lil nosy though, because they get to that dreaded what's your life story question at some point in their friendship and Dazai's just like uh. How does he casually bring up that he's technically a sinner and a tempter and he's considered tainted and cast out because no one wants to deal with him now? He's pretty ashamed.

The whole time up until then Dazai's been working on earning that goodwill to return to the gates of heaven, but there's just something about Chuuya that's fascinating and as his time in the mortal realm starts coming to an end, he's getting cold feet about going back? Like maybe he likes this new life after all, it isn't so bad and DEFINITELY isn't as bad as all the angels said.

People smile. They laugh. They know how to love. They're not all bad out to get others and be evil. And some people are just fumbling and trying to get through life with the cards they've been dealt.

[jessieren]

Some happy smiley bts pics for Thursday Thursday

Awwwww....