#canon will live on in fanfic

[ffsg0jo]

ex-boyfriend toji, who's constantly being pestered by megumi about you. you're not his biological mum, but the boy's formed an attachment to you and craves your affection and warmth. you're the closest thing he's ever had to a mother, having been in his life since he was 3, and he loves you like one too. his dad is all hard and muscles and frowny, and you're all soft and sweet and always smiling at him. it's no wonder his dad couldn't keep you, he thinks.

you never raise your voice at him, feed him the best home-cooked meals, and even help him with his homework (he doesn't actually need help, he just likes the way you let him sit on your lap whilst you're on the floor and wrap your arms around him, struggling to figure out what long division is). even after you and his dad break up you never once held it against him (like other exes had) and you never stopped visiting him.

you're hands down the best (ex) girlfriend toji's ever brought home. you actually made an effort to get closer to megumi and get to know him more often. always looking for fun little things to take him to. whether it's a petting zoo, aquarium, or a normal zoo zoo.

you learnt quickly how much he loved animals and never failed to surprise him with a new plushie. one could never have too many plushies, you said to him once, booping his nose and pulling out a cute turtle from behind your back.

(when he finally moved into the dorms in first year, he had about 3 boxes alone, full of stuffed animals. he didn't have it in his heart to pick and choose which ones to take with him, so he brought all of them. you laughed at first when you saw the flood of plushies on his dorm floor when helping him move, but megumi gave you a small smile, repeating your words from almost a decade earlier.)

mini follow-up/context

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[fluffyartbl0g]

Holy crap this is like world record breaking pace guys

Speedrun/Time Travel AU masterlist

[wistfullywaiting2]

The biggest misconception in the bsd fandom ever to me is people constantly portraying Atsushi as someone who trauma dumps excessively when he canonically barely talks about it at all.

The entire point is that Atsushi does not talk about his trauma he’s just constantly thinking about/reliving it. He can’t escape the memories of his past so he tries not to acknowledge them.

He only mentions it when asked, either directly or when someone asks him to explain himself.

Atsushi doesn’t even give a cohesive explanation for what he saw while under Dogra Magra, he just apologizes to Haruno and Naomi.

If Lucy hadn’t had her whole “you’ve never suffered the way I have” spiel then I doubt even the audience would’ve gotten to find out about his scars

If Akutagawa never asked him how it felt for the orphanage headmaster to die Atsushi would have never told him that he’s been hallucinating.

In the omake where Kyoka asks him why his hair is like that it’s clear he wouldn’t have told her that unless she had asked.

In 55 minutes Atsushi very briefly mentions sleeping on a dirty floor somewhere to Kunikida because he was trying to explain and justify his behavior.

And the thing is that there are scenes that implies that the other characters see Atsushi behaving strangely and are visibly confused because they do not understand what’s wrong with him.

Remember, we as an audience get to see things about characters that the main cast doesn’t. Just because we see into Atsushi’s mind doesn’t mean the other characters know what’s going on in there.

Also little footnote here that I think this is a reference to the moon over the mountain but I digress

[justaz]

merlin told arthur his favorite color was the color of the sky during sunset when it shifted into a deep violet. arthur gets a tunic made in that exact shade. its the best thing merlin owns. arthur was hoping that would mean he’d wear it almost everyday but merlin almost never wears it. the only time he does wear it is when royals come to visit (which isn’t all that often). arthur “subtly” asks about it and merlin is like “it’s the best thing i own. i’m not gonna dirty it mucking out the stables or serving rowdy knights wine while they splatter food on it” and arthur is like “why not wear it when nobles come to visit? look at least a little presentable for them” (cough nice save). merlin doesn’t see the point in it bc nobles don’t care about him at best, view him as less than human at worst.

arthur really just wants to see his boyfriend servant in the tunic he had made for him (bonus points for sending a message that merlin is his. not that merlin seems to notice. man is too much of an idiot). merlin wants to preserve his favorite tunic and gift from his boyfriend king.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[dark-side-blog3]

Horrid idea. Reverse isekai, but with a fanon only fan, who completely disregards canon.

Like, imagine someone coming up to you and demanding you be married as they shove a basket of white clothes and rings, and when you say no they get all huffy because “that’s not what you’re like! You’re supposed to go ‘ah you’re gonna marry me? That’s what those mean you know! Oh~ What am I saying? You couldn’t possibly understand our world’s marriage rituals!’ And kiss me!”

They show up outside your house with a bunch of baking supplies because you canonically ate bread once on screen. Or with a fuckton of carrots, if you can’t eat bread.

They get mad you don’t play an instrument they headcanoned you learning, or you don’t actually have any strong opinions on the guy from a gas station three months ago.

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

happy pride month to trans guys who’ve been in a coma for 20 years you did nothing wrong king i don’t even care you came home covered in blood that one time <33

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 29

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 26, part 27, part 28

Dustin’s not exactly sure what happened. He was patiently waiting for Steve to meet him in the lobby, but it’s been almost a half hour, and Dustin has no idea where he is. He already went back to check in Eddie’s room, but nothing. Then outside, nothing again. And Steve would never leave his stranded, so it can’t be that.

Which leaves Dustin completely alone, eating a Snickers bar that he got from the vending machine because they were out of Three Musketeers. The second one he got for Steve slowly melting in his pocket. Wondering if it was at the level where he had to go check under the bathroom stalls to see if any of the feet were wearing Steve’s shoes.

But he can at least be a little bit saner and go double check Eddie’s room again. Maybe Steve couldn’t find him and went back there to look. That would be the logical thing to do.

When Dustin opens the door, Steve has the chair pulled up close to Eddie’s bed hunched over and looking like he’s about to cry. Eddie’s looks like halfway there himself. Both of them jumping to hide that fact when Dustin entered.

“I didn’t know where you went,” Dustin says. Not sure whether to ignore or acknowledge what he just walked into. “I thought we were going to go home.”

Steve shakes his head gently, pressing his eyes shut like it will stop the tears from flowing. “Yeah, sorry. Could you just give me a second? I was just talking to Eddie about something.”

“It’s ok,” Eddie brushes off with his hand. “Take the kid home, we can talk about this later.”

“Are you sure? He can wait another minute-.”

“I’m sure. We’re good, ok. Go home.” Eddie looks at him like he really means what he’s saying. Not just pretending for both of their benefit. Not again.

Steve nods. Standing and pushing the chair back in place against the wall. “I’ll see you later then.”

Eddie waves Steve over and whispers something before letting him leave. Steve just snorts and smiles at whatever it is. Whispering something back before finally ushering Dustin out of the room. Some sort of weird energy radiating off of him in the car ride home. A mix between happy and sad that Dustin doesn’t understand.

“What was that about?” Dustin asks. Trying to do it without a confrontational tone.

Steve shrugs. “We just had something to talk about, that’s all.”

Dustin nods. “But you’re both ok, right? It looked like you were both about to cry.”

He’s trying to be gentle about the topic. Trying to calm the way he can ask about things. So it doesn’t sound like he’s pressuring his way into situations. That way people can feel like they can open up to him, and tell him what’s going on. Instead of just brushing it off and telling him it’s not his problem.

Because it was his problem. This was his friend. This was his family. He didn’t have siblings to fight through all of this with. He didn’t have parents who he could tell these things too. For the most part, it’s been Steve that he’s talked to about all this. It’s been Steve that he radioed in the middle of the night when he was so scared he couldn’t breathe. Or when he needed advice about school problems. Or anything.

Somewhere along the line, Steve became the sibling he fought through stuff with. That’s been a sure fact since he helped Dustin get ready for the Snowball. They were one of the mini units in the bigger organization.

It hurt when Steve hid things from him out of “protection”. Dustin didn’t need protecting, he needed transparency. He needed for Steve to know that Dustin’s here for him. Just as much as Steve’s there for Dustin. This was a two-way street.

“We were, kinda,” Steve says after a long break of silence.

“Are you ok?”

Steve puts the car in park, turning to Dustin with an almost relieved expression. “Yeah. I am.”

“Ok.” Dusting is choosing to trust that Steve would tell him if he wasn’t. “Just, if you start to feel not ok, you know you can talk to me about it. I’ll listen.”

“I know.”

There’s a knock at Dustin’s window. His mom waving hello with a gentle smile. Dustin knows why, he always knows why. It’s to invite Steve in to have dinner that he’ll refuse three times before giving in. He’s over there for dinner more nights that he would probably admit.

“Hi, Miss Henderson,” Steve says when he rolls down the window.

“Hello. I haven’t seen you in a while, Steve. Why don’t you come in for dinner?”

That’s a lie, she saw him two days ago when she returned a movie at Family Video.

Steve lets out a small huff, catching her on her lie. “I appreciate it, but I really should be heading home. I don’t want to bother you.”

“Oh, it’d be no bother at all. It’s the least I can do for all the time you drive Dustin around.”

Dustin rolls his eyes as Steve rolls out another excuse. His mother already coming up with a response that negates the excuse entirely. Steve takes a deep breath and turns the car off, accepting the dinner invitation.

He only refused twice this time. Steve is starting to be worn down.

They go inside and are almost immediately ushered to the table. Set with three places each with their favorite sodas. Because there wasn’t an option for Steve to not be here for dinner, and the three of them knew it. It was just in Steve’s nature to try and refuse.

Even though he knows that once Steve steps through the doors of the Henderson house, he never wants to leave it. It’s much smaller than his house, and a lot more cluttered. But that’s what makes it warm. Every time he walked into his house after an upside down event, with all of this clutter and décor surrounding him, he never felt more relief in his life. He was home.

Whenever he visits one of the other guys’ houses, that feeling is mirrored in its own way. That same feeling wasn’t there whenever he went to Steve’s house.

Dustin remembers the first time Steve ever let him come over. The house was pretty much what he was expecting. High ceilings and fancy flourishes. A room full of furniture no one was allowed to sit on and carpets that couldn’t be walked on with shoes. But there was something wrong with it. The house was only a home when Steve was in it.

Without Steve, it would feel like no one lived there. The walls only had a few pictures on them, and there were more shut doors than open ones. The kitchen sink only ever had a few dishes in it, and the couch only had one cushion with a permanent dent. The whole of it felt so empty.

The worst part was that Steve knew it to. It was a nice place to throw get togethers. It was nice to look at and imagine living there. But Dustin felt the pull from Steve to stay anywhere else for just a second longer. So he didn’t have to go to a place that didn’t feel like home to him.

It’s part of the reason that his mom invites him over to dinner so much. When Dustin told her about how empty his house was, they decided to build Steve a place in theirs. They didn’t have a lot of space, but it was easy for them to make it feel like there was more. For Steve to have his own coat hook when he came over, and a place to put his shoes. A chair at the table that was always his, and his own blanket when they had movie nights.

Dustin wanted Steve to know that this could be his home if he needed it to be. And he knows that it worked. He can see it in the way that Steve relaxes every time he walks through the door. How he is nothing but himself when he’s here.

But eventually he has to leave and go home. He hugs Claudia goodbye and tries to refuse the container of leftovers shoved into his hands. Even though Dustin knows he’s grateful for it. Steve says goodbye to Dustin with a brief hug and a ruffle to his curls. And then he leaves.

Dustin wishes he didn’t have to.

tag list (capping at 100, only 2 spots left): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[fandom-geek17]

Destined For More

Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader

Synopsis: Being a close family friend of the Sully's, and Kiri's best friend, it was hard to be around Neteyam and not fall in love with him. Supressing those feelings were even harder, especially when his parents start pressuring him about finding a mate...

Rating: E MINORS DNI🔞🔞

Tags: Friends to lovers! Eventual smut! Semi public smut! P in V smut, Reader has a name, no use of Y/N

Vocabulary: Nantang (Viperwolf), Marui (Pods/tents), Skxawng (Moron), Tanhì (Bioluminescent freckles/stars)

Ages: Neteyam (21), reader (20), Kiri (20), Lo'ak (19), Tuk (13)

Can also be read on AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

“There child” Mo’at told you gently, standing over your shoulder as you crushed the herbs in the mortar. “Perfect.” You smiled to yourself. You were a decent healer, but hearing it from her directly meant everything. Kiri had always been the best healer, always would be, but you enjoyed the profession. Feeling like you could contribute with something else other than making clothes.

Alongside you and Kiri, there were two other healers in training, and everyone was currently busy helping a hunting party that had been attacked by a group of Nantang. None had been seriously injured, but there were a lot of bites and scratches to clean and bandage. They were lucky, it could have been worse. But since there were suddenly so many patients, the supply of medicines ran low. As Kiri and the other two worked on the patients, you were happy to sit in the corner, making more healing paste as fast as you could. The patients were an important part of being a healer, but the thing that had always interested you most was the science behind it. Discovering how new plants could optimize healing, which ones soothed pain, which ones killed bacteria. You had recently discovered that alternating the weaving pattern of the bandages caused more air to flow through without exposing the wounds to the elements. That way, it lessened the chance of infection.

“Emmy, can you pass me those?” Kiri asked, pointing to a pile of leaves next to you. She smiled in thanks as you gave them to her. Your real name was Emreyìte, meaning surviving daughter. It was a bit on the nose, but you liked it. You mother had labored for over two days to bring you into the world, and you nearly didn’t make it. The name was supposed to convey the strength you had already displayed coming into this world.

When you finished crushing the herbs, you put them in the water stewing above the fire. Stirring slowly, and evenly, the water slowly changed color. But it needed to steep for a little while longer. This particular mixture of herbs soothed pain very efficiently when boiled into a tea. But the taste wasn’t particularly pleasant, so you always added some sweetness in the hopes of counteracting the bitter taste. All the hunters were given a cup of the liquid to drink. They all grimaced badly, making you smile a little. It was terrible, but you were still experimenting with the recipe.

You all worked in quiet unison until all the hunters had been treated. It was well past the start of the communal dinner by then, evening setting in slowly. The other two healers went to get something to eat whilst Kiri helped Mo’at to her marui. You stayed behind to clean up. And also take inventory of how much of the supplies had been used. Hunger rumbled in your belly, but it would have to wait.

“Knock, knock” a voice murmured. A voice you knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your breath hitched.

You turned around and indeed. “Neteyam” you breathed. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, watching you with a small smile from under his eyelashes. “I saw all the other healers join the dinner, but not you. I figured you’d be here, too wrapped up in your research to eat again.” He held out a steaming bowl in front of you. “So I brought you this.”

The smell of Yerik stew filled your nostrils, making your stomach rumble again. Neteyam smirked, proving his point. “Thank you” you said, accepting his gift. But it was only when he stepped inside the hut properly that you noticed the wound on his shoulder, making you gasp slightly. “Neteyam, what happened to your shoulder?”

“Nothing! It’s fine, don’t worry about it” he assured you, but not very convincingly.

“That needs to be cleaned” you stated, setting the bowl aside. “What happened?” You looked at his expectantly until he finally caved, quirking his brow in your direction.

“I caught a tree branch during fighting practice” he admitted with a nonchalant tone. “It’s fine.”

“Did you clean it, at least?” you asked, observing the wound. You already knew the answer.

“Yes” Neteyam said.

“Well, not well enough. Sit! Does it hurt?”

“No.”

You quirked at eyebrow at him, your tail swishing impatiently.

“A bit.” Neteyam’s ears flicked as his eyes flitted between you and the bowl of Yerik stew. “Can you at least eat first? Waiting a couple of more minutes won’t kill me.” He smiled at you playfully. He was normally very reserved, the smiling Neteyam was usually saved for his family.

But you only huffed, filling a cup with the last of the tea from earlier. “Here, drink this while I eat.” As you sat down with your bowl of stew, Neteyam took a small gulp of the liquid in his cup. His brows furrowed but other than that, he did an okay job of hiding his disgust. But having known him since you were kids, you could tell when he hid the truth. “You can grimace, you know” you giggled over the bowl. “It won’t hurt my feelings. I know it’s disgusting.”

Neteyam hummed, only making a small grimace after his next sip. “It’s not the best” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “But it’s effective. And a lot better than the last time. You’re getting very good at this, experimenting with medicine.” You couldn’t help but blush at his praise.

But you had also just stuffed your mouth full of food, so the only answer he got was that damned blush you wished would go away. As soon as you finished the bowl, you go to work on his shoulder.

Your hand trembled slightly as it made contact with Neteyam’s warm skin, holding him steady while the other hand cleaned his wound with a cloth. Your hand rose and fell with each of his breaths, and you leaned in to see properly in the firelight. Eywa, he smelled so good. Always had. It was intoxicating, and also the reason why you never got too close to him.

Your family and the Sully family had been friends since forever, you and your brother grew up together with the Sully’s, but as your brother made lots of other friends, your only real friend was Kiri. Of course, Kiri came with Lo’ak, Spider and Tuk and they were great, like additional siblings. But they weren’t Neteyam. With his broad shoulders, gentle voice, infectious smile, kind heart and protective older brother demeanor, it was impossible to not gain a crush on him. That crush had lasted on and on since you were fourteen. At seventeen, even you had to admit to yourself that you had fallen in love with him. And how could you not? He was everything, had everything. He was the handsome son of the Olo'eyktan that all the women gazed after, giggled around and tried to flirt with. He was the dream you could never have. It had been clear over the years that he only saw you as a friend, as Kiri’s best friend. So you had become very good at dreaming in silence and later suppressing your feelings for the man sitting before you.

Dreams of exploring with him, laughing with him, him confessing his undying love for you and making you his mate. And also not so innocent dreams, dreams of being with him. Of him kissing you, running his hands all over your body, his mouth following suit, him pushing his cock deep into your pussy, joining his kuru with yours, finally creating that everlasting bond…

A hiss from the man in question broke you out of your train of thought. “Sorry” you whispered, your mouth and throat suddenly very dry.

“It’s okay” Neteyam whispered back. You could have sworn that his voice was deeper, throatier, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “It just stings a little.”

You nodded quietly and swallowed, desperately trying to regain some moisture in your mouth so you could get your voice back. Standing up, you took a deep breath that you hoped was subtle and went to get the Yalna bark mixture. This was exactly why you tried to avoid being too close to him. Every time those big golden orbs watched you intently or his smell surrounded you, thought and memories of your illicit fantasies caught up with you and you had to remember that Neteyam was destined for so much more than a healer who was more interested in playing with plants than helping her patients.

He was watching you right now, you could tell. His gaze burned at the back of your neck, but when you turned back around, he thankfully looked away. You had to say something, quickly. The longer you stayed quiet, more memories of last night flooded your brain. Those fantasies of him wrapping your legs around his neck before he-

“Why didn’t you come here before?” you blurt out, desperately avoiding eye contact, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart.

Neteyam shrugged with his good shoulder, his eyes following the movement of you fingers as you dipped them in the mixture. “There were so many wounded hunters, thought you should prioritize them.”

You huffed at his stubbornness. “Skxawng” you muttered, trying to not take in how defined the muscles around his shoulder area were. “I al- we always have time for you” you corrected quickly. Please Eywa, don’t let him catch that slip up!

You dared a quick glance at his eyes, but you couldn’t read the expression there. He opened his mouth and closed it several times before speaking. “I’ll remember that” he breathed.

Quickly, you looked back down at his wound and shuffled closer to be able to apply the ointment. Too late you noticed that this position practically placed you between his legs. His knees rubbed against your waist as you leaned forward. Again, you placed one hand on his chest for support before rubbing your coated fingers over his wound.

A small groan left his lips. A groan that caused you to close your eyes and legs tighter together. Thank Eywa that your braids covered your face as you worked, if he saw the deep violet of your cheeks or your eyes that were more black than yellow, he’d probably bolt out and you’d have to dig yourself into a hole of embarrassment and stay there forever. There was nothing sexual about that groan! He was in pain, you reminded yourself. Still, all you could feel was the beating of your heart and the lightning bolts of pleasure going from your stomach to your core.

This was exactly why you needed to keep a safe distance from him! When there were other people around or you kept yourself at a respectable distance, it was easier to remember that all you would ever be was his friend. It made it easier to suppress everything.

As soon as you could, you bolted from your position as if you had just been burnt. Clearing your throat, you look away, letting your braids hide your face again. “Okay, you’re all set” you murmured under the guise of putting everything back at its rightful place.

You could hear Neteyam standing up behind you, shuffling about a little. “Thank you, Emreyìtre. I appreciate it.” It was so rare for someone to call you by your full name. It caused a flutter of your heart that made you feel both happy and sad at the same time. “Are you staying here long?”

Why did he want to know? Did it matter what you did? “Probably not” you answered slowly, finally turning around to face him. “We used up a lot of Mo’at’s supply today. I was going to forage some more for her so we can all start fresh tomorrow.”

“Now?” he questioned, gesturing to the setting sun outside of the tent. “It will be dark soon.”

You crossed your arms, tail swishing slightly. “So? I’m not afraid of the dark.”

Neteyam’s ears flicked upwards along with his tail. “I know” he smiled. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You sighed… You wanted to say something derogatory to distract him from the real reason you didn’t want him accompanying you. It’s not like you could tell him you wanted the alone time to cool off and maybe shoot a couple of arrows in between gathering. But when you looked into those hopeful, determined eyes of his, you couldn’t lie. Damn him! “Fine. As long as you remember that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself then you can make yourself useful and help me carry everything.”

You thrusted a satchel bag into his hands. Neteyam snorted and slung it over his shoulder before accepting the large pile of smaller containers that you had woven for this very purpose. You gathered the same equipment for yourself before also armoring yourself with your daggers and bow and arrow.

As you walked, you tried to stay a couple of paces ahead of him, both to show him the way but also to give yourself some space to think. As eclipse slowly set in, his tanhì would illuminate more and more, creating that perfect canvas of speckled light. He had always been so beautiful in the dark, his features somehow more prominent than during the day. Over the years, you had spent many evenings around a campfire with him and his family. Carefully watching him out of the corner of your eye, you had decided that nighttime was his best look.

But you couldn’t think of that right now! If this was going to work, having him accompany you, then it couldn’t be awkward. You had to treat him the same way as you would anyone else helping you. And that meant no ogling! Hence why you were walking ahead of him.

Neteyam walked diligently behind you, not saying much, just following in your footsteps. Eventually you stopped in front of a clearing.

“Here” you pointed towards a patch of green. “See those plants with the rounded leaves?” He nodded, stepping closer to you to observe the plants. “Dig up the roots, clean them and put them in one container. As many as you can fit.”

“What do they do?” he asked curiously as he sunk down to his knees.

“They calm anxiousness” you answered immediately. “They can also help people sleep if prepared properly.”

As Neteyam worked on the roots, you used your knife to gather the same herbs you had boiled earlier today. Neteyam proved to excel at this, like everything else. He quickly filled the woven bag with roots and immediately asked for a new task. You set him to work as much as you could, both to get the work done faster and because you secretly wanted to see that pleased smile whenever he showed you his collection of plants. He was like one of those yellow canines Jake had showed you on a computer once. The ones that existed on earth. He had that same eagerness to please and do well.

It warmed your heart that he genuinely wanted to help. Yet you also had to remind yourself that this eagerness was not singled out for you. He probably wanted to help everyone with the same fervor. He was the next Olo’eyktan, after all. If the people were supposed to follow him, then he had to show he would be there for them with the same loyalty.

But as the evening went on, Neteyam followed you more and more, asking you to tell him about each and every plant you collected. And it was nice to have something to talk about. Something that you could sink into without feeling self-conscious. So, you happily shared your knowledge.

“See this one?” you sat down in front of a plant with thick, pointy stems and sharp edges. “Kiri and I discovered the use of it a while ago. It soothes burns, produces a cooling sensation.” You broke off a piece of the stem and cut it in half. A clear, gel-like liquid oozed out. You collected some on your fingers and you could swear you heard your foraging partner swallow. But before you had time to process whether he did, you reached for his arm to stroke some on it. “Feel that?” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah” he murmured before looking up at you. “That’s incredible.”

“I’m experimenting with it, to see if I can make turn it into an ointment somehow.”

Neteyam looked at you with hooded eyes. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

A blush spread across your cheeks. He had given you so many compliments tonight, it was hard to believe that this wasn’t one of your daydreams. Even harder when you observed the way his tanhì glowed in the moonlight, the way his braids fell to perfectly frame his face, his gentle smile, his golden eyes looking up at you from under his eyelashes again. The urge to be closer to him was overwhelming. Every fibre of your being longed for him, to feel his lips against yours. But you had to stay strong. He was forbidden territory. Kiri’s brother, the future clan leader, and most importantly; he wasn’t interested. And making any kind of move would ruin whatever it was that you two had.

So you cleared your throat and stood up. “After we get some of these, we should be set to head back” you said quietly, turning away from him.

The two of you quickly gathered the last plant and began walking back. But before you had gotten far you stumbled upon some of your favorite materials for making clothing. A small squeal of happiness left your lips as you bent down to scoop up some of the pebbles.

“Do these have a medical purpose?” Neteyam asked you curiously and picked some up himself.

“No” you admitted bashfully, placing the small white pebbles in your bag. “I use them to make beads and other decorations for my chest coverings.”

“Oh…” Neteyam’s eyes flitted downwards for a moment before he bent down to scoop some more pebbles into his hand to examine them further. “Is it hard to make beads out of them?”

“No” you shrugged. “Just time consuming.” Neteyam nodded slowly.

The two of you walked the rest of the way in silence. It had been such a nice evening and you desperately tried to remember that it was simply an outing between friends. You couldn’t get your hopes up over this one thing. He just came along to make sure you didn’t get lost out there…

“Hey” Neteyam stopped you with a hand on your elbow when the village appeared ahead. “Thank you for letting me come with you. I really needed to clear my head for a bit.”

Your ears perked in interest. “Oh?” His mood seemed to have dampened somewhat, judging by the way his eyes suddenly had darkened and his tail swished slightly when he looked at his family’s marui. “Can I ask why?” you probed gently. “Or is it too personal?” Whatever it was, a part of you really wanted, needed, to know.

Neteyam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Mom and dad have been trying to have a conversation with me for a couple of days. A conversation I don’t really want to have.” He looked at his home, his cheeks a bit more violet than usual. You nodded gently for him to continue. He cleared his throat and refused to meet your gaze. “They want me to start looking for a mate.”

And just like that, you could feel cracks appearing in your heart. “Oh…” you whispered, now avoiding his gaze, as well. You had always known this day would come, but mentally preparing and being slapped in the face with it were two entirely different things.

“And it’s not that I don’t want a mate” he added hurriedly. “I do. I just don’t want to be rushed into any big decisions. Whoever I mate with will have to burden a lot of responsibility and I don’t want to force that on anyone. I know what’s like to have so much responsibility thrust upon you that you didn’t ask for.”

You nodded slowly, blinking furiously. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they had to stay away! You would not cry over the news that a friend was supposed to celebrate. Be supportive! “I’m sure whoever it will be will make a great tsahìk one day” you murmured, clutching your bag closer to your chest. “Since we’re here, I can take the bags to the healing hut.”

“I can help you with that!” Neteyam offered immediately, making you want to cry even more. But not now, not yet!

“No, no I’ll be fine” you lied, your voice a lot shakier than you would have liked. “Go home, Neteyam. I’m sure your parents are wondering where you are.” He reluctantly handed you the bag he was carrying. You gave him a forced smile. “Goodbye.”

You started to walk away before he could answer, desperate to get away. He called after you. “Goodbye Emmy!”

The tears finally spilled over. It felt like a ‘goodbye’ in more ways than one…

Let me know what you think!!!

[archer-kacey]

Problems with erasing Bendy Book canon:

With the FNAF books, we were told they were canon-divergent fairly early on. For Bendy, this was never specified, leading many to believe this was all just straight-up canon information that they were running with for theorycrafting. For a long time.

Why the hell would you de-canonize the ENTIRE origin story of Boris? He's a central character to Bendy and the Ink Machine.

You're going to throw out THE ENTIRE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF YOUR MAIN VILLAIN? THAT'S.......NOT A GOOD IDEA!

(And before it's pointed out, no, we don't "need" Illusion of Living for "gay evidence." The point here is y'all released an autobiography for one of your two main characters and you're saying it's not canon. That's ludicrous.)

Things that were explained/brought up in the novels that apparently "aren't canon anymore": how Sammy got infected, Thomas's conflicting feelings about the machine he created, the origin of Boris the wolf, several instances of Joey's gaslighting and manipulative behavior and his slow descent into madness after Henry's departure, a look into Gent technology and the Gent experiments that took place after they switched over to "research", Abby Lambert (who SHOULD be in the mainline games all things considered), Joey Drew's ENTIRE AUTOBIOGRAPHY including his PHILOSOPHIES AND REAL ASS LIFE, ANDDD the themes of classism, racism, and sexism that were VERY present at that time in history. Among other things.

You're taking out several new characters for no reason. I'm not saying they all need to return, but it makes zero sense to introduce a bunch of new guys and then immediately abandon them...only to introduce a bunch of OTHER new guys.

I've seen a few comments in response to Mike that go along the lines of "oh thank goodness now I don't need to read the books to understand the lore!" No disrespect, but I think that's a fundamental misunderstanding of what the books do. They enhance your understanding of all the background plot. You don't need to read the books to understand the games. But that shouldn't mean erasing the existing information's canonicity because not everyone wants to read it.

Bendy isn't FNAF. Bendy has a much more streamlined plot. Not everything fits perfectly of course, but to take out such a large chunk of what we THOUGHT was the plot (or plot-adjacent) is headscratching to me. You claim to care about the plot, characters and worldbuilding and then you decide that some of the BEST written interpretations of these characters and their world just aren't "legitimate" now? .......All of a sudden?

I want to punch something

[read-write-thrive]

Hospitals had never been the favorite location of either of the Dead Boy Detectives, and they usually refrained from even approaching the premises when at all possible. In the early days of the agency, it was too risky— too many dying or newly dead individuals meant Death was nearly impossible to escape, after all. Even now, with an expanded agency under the influence of the Night Nurse, and as such without immediate risk of hell if they strayed too close to Death, they still tried to avoid hospitals out of habit and for the comfort of all involved—the boys never knew when someone might see them (and it never stopped stinging when someone suddenly did) and it wasn’t exactly easy for the girls to just walk into a hospital without rousing suspicion. It was easier in some ways, these years later, now that the girls were adults and less likely to be seen as truants, but that newfound freedom did not bring with it any sudden desire to see what they were missing behind hospital doors.

All this caution and hesitation was ignored when Charles tapped on the mirror to check on his parents and was met with an unexpected chaos. A heart attack, from what the paramedics were saying as they wheeled the old man out on a stretcher, Charles’s mother and their neighbor following behind in her car. Charles didn’t witness the incident itself, pure luck on the timing, but the aftermath was a flurry of commotion that left him reeling.

He wandered back to the main space of their headquarters (a bigger place than what it once was, courtesy of the girls’ tiring of the boys being unreachable during a crisis or two and deciding to go all in on a shared flat) in a daze. Charles didn’t hide his checking in on his parents anymore, but still preferred to do it alone. Thankfully, his friends were kind, wonderful people who were happy to leave him to it. Said wonderful friends, however, were also quick to notice something wrong.

“Charles?” Edwin, naturally, was the first to notice Charles’s return and immediately put his book aside.

The girls, engrossed in a new show on the other side of their living room, snapped up in their own ways.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Charles swallowed down the mixture of emotions threatening to drown him, “It’s my dad, he’s had a heart attack.” He screwed his face up in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. Why was he crying? The bastard made his life miserable—

“Good.” Crystal was the first to comment. Niko slapped at her arm. Crystal put her hands up, “What? He was awful!”

“It’s still his dad!” Niko protested, “You can’t just say that!”

Charles tuned out their bickering. Everything felt a little tuned out, actually. And then Edwin was in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“-love? Charles?”

“Hmm?” Charles tried to silence his whirring emotions.

“Are you alright?”

The Charles of even several years ago would have been quick to brush it all off with a smile. But he’d grown since then.

“Honestly? Not sure. Is that bad? Crystal’s right, he was a dick.”

“And Niko makes a very good point as well. He’s still your father.”

The tears were back again. Edwin pulled him in for a hug before Charles could say another word.

The girls had also quieted, alternating between watching the exchange and speaking through meaningful glances.

Niko was the one to break it, “Did you want to see him?”

The very idea shocked Charles, going rigid in Edwin’s arms.

“He might not even be dying, and going to a hospital is recipe for trouble—“ Charles responded slowly, as if waiting for someone to agree with him and take the weight of the decision off of him.

“I mean, a heart attack is probably close enough to death even if it doesn’t get him.” Crystal contributed.

“And our avoidance of hospitals doesn’t matter if you’d like to go see him. The Night Nurse’s lone positive trait is her protection from Death’s clutches, after all.” Edwin said into Charles’s curls.

“I-“ Charles gave himself a breath, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“We don’t have to.” Crystal said softly.

“Yeah, we can just have our movie night and distract you, or if you want to talk to us but not go see him…” Niko backed her girlfriend up, trailing off into the silence.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Edwin echoed, sighing, “But I don’t want you to regret anything, either.”

“That’s true, it might be good for closure…” Niko chimes in once again, positive in the face of it all and determined to see Charles cheered up as well.

“Fuck that. You don’t owe him closure. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go.” Crystal’s anger was not what it once was, but she had her moments, particularly when abusers were the topic of discussion. Thankfully she seemed determined to keep her composure.

“Your call, Charles.” Edwin said, pulling away from the embrace but not letting Charles go just yet. He obviously had more to say, if the turn of his mouth was any indication, but he was all softness regardless.

“Could be my last chance, innit?” Charles said lowly, obviously not thrilled at the prospect, “If the bastard goes…”

Edwin’s face shifted, and Charles knew he’d guessed Edwin’s unspoken comment correctly. Still, Edwin’s tone and posture were the same, “No one expects it of you. And we’ll support you regardless of what you decide.”

Charles had a distant feeling of pride that Edwin had gotten better at this sort of thing. He’d tell him that another time. Once this was all over and the world made sense again.

After a moment of reflection, Charles sighed, “I think I’d like to go. Might help me heal or closure or whatever, yeah?”

The girls were up, pulling on their coats and shoes without a second thought. Charles felt monumentally lucky to have them.

Including the boy who held him still, voice low and meeting his eyes, “Do you want all of us with you? We can stay behind if you’d rather do this alone.”

Charles shook his head with his same sad smile, “I don’t want to think what might happen if I do all this alone, mate. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I lose my cool.”

Edwin clearly saw through the attempt at a joking diversion but smiled regardless, “Very well. Do you know which hospital we’re visiting?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s probably closest to their place, yeah?” Charles guessed, scrambling his thoughts trying to remember which hospital he’d been taken to when he’d broken his arm as a kid. It was so long ago, and so much had happened since…

Edwin once again shook him out of his thoughts, “Some investigation is in order, then. Niko? Crystal?”

“On it!” Niko chirped, already deep into her phone, Crystal close behind.

After some internet sleuthing, the girls had acquired the address of the nearest hospital to the Rowland family home and were taking the long way there while the boys readied themselves in front of the mirror.

“Are you ready?” Edwin double checked, hand outstretched.

Charles shook himself, “Not sure I’d ever be, love, but let’s get on with it.”

Edwin pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek, a sincere smile, and then through the mirror they went.

—-

They stepped out of a mirror in one of the many bathrooms in the hospital complex, disoriented by the amount of beings (alive and dead alike) as they tried to navigate the halls. The A&E department was the worst, with traumatic deaths creating a perpetual plethora of ghosts. Of course, this was also the first place they needed to check.

The boys held hands tightly as they went, both wound tight by the noise and the blood and the general atmosphere of the place. It was far from the most dangerous place they’d been in their decades together, but that brought little comfort in the face of it all.

Phasing through the various doors and curtains, it was ultimately clear that if Charles’s father was in this hospital, he’d been moved elsewhere. They split momentarily, with Edwin going to find a map of the hospital while Charles waited at the nurse’s station to see if he could get any leads on his family.

It soon became clear that there was simply too much going on for Charles to glean any real information, and he was ready to give up and find Edwin when the next phone call to the desk came from a familiar phone number and gave way to a familiar voice. Niko’s voice was clear on the other end, and just loud enough for Charles to overhear. The nurse gave the information with little questioning, informing all involved that Mr. Rowland had just been moved to a private room on a different floor. Charles didn’t stick around to listen to what exact department the man was in, or what the prognosis was—as soon as he knew the number he was off to find Edwin.

It was quieter in this department. Less urgent. Which meant something significant that Charles was pointedly not thinking about, less that send him into another tailspin. Thankfully Edwin’s presence was grounding beside him.

A nurse left the room as they found it, giving a glimpse through the doorway. Charles’s mother sat at his father’s bedside, accompanying neighbor at her side. They couldn’t see his father (or his father’s ghost for that matter) from their vantage point.

Edwin gave one last squeeze of Charles’s hand to get his attention, “I can give you a moment alone if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.” Charles tried to joke, but his voice didn’t seem to cooperate. Edwin’s eyes saddened, but he gave a firm nod and gestured for Charles to take the lead.

The man of the hour looked frail against the white sheets. He was awake, but by the look of his eyes he was definitely on his way out. There was a bulky mask over his nose and mouth, IV in his arm, heart monitor dragging along beside him. Charles's mother sat quietly, holding his hand between two frail ones of her own.

Charles didn't think his emotions could get any more complicated, and then his father's eyes found him. Then Edwin. Then back to him. He rasped behind the mask, Charles's mother shushing him gently.

"Hi dad." Charles sighed more than said, standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed and gripping Edwin's hand so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he managed to hurt him despite all the ghost technicalities.

Another rasp, this time accompanied by a frail hand gesturing towards the boys. Charles nearly slumped in relief when his mother glanced their way but returned to murmuring to her husband rather than reel back in shock. She had some time left, at least. His father, however, continued to try to speak.

Seeing his mother's distress, Charles felt himself snap into his protective mindset without thought, snarking, "Just give it up, mate. They can't see us—you're the only one dying here, so only you get the honour. Trust me, I'd rather talk to mum than you any day, but I cant say I'm too torn up about you going first. Maybe she'll get to have some happy years without you."

The man thankfully stopped his rasping, but his eyes emoted enough that Charles knew he heard him. It gave him the confidence to keep going, never quite sure what his next word was going to be but glad to say it anyway.

"Not that you asked, but I've been having a great time these last thirty, forty years. Yeah my death was awful, don't get me wrong. Kinda wish you got even a taste of that, for all the shit you put me through… Actually, do heart attacks hurt?" He turned his question towards Edwin, who had such a complicated expression that Charles immediately decided that the question wasn't that important, "Doesn't matter now, I guess. But yeah, my afterlife has honestly been better than my life ever was. Not only do I not have to deal with your bullshit, but I've also found people who actually care about me.

"Like this, right here, is Edwin," Charles swung their held hands upwards in an attempt at a wave, earning a slightly hysterical chuckle from Edwin, "He found me dying in that attic, showed me kindness as I died, and I've been by his side ever since. He's the best thing that ever happened to me—"

Charles took a breath as his voice cracked, Edwin's hand squeezing his in silent support. Charles didn't look over to try and keep it together a bit longer.

"He's the love of my—well, love of my afterlife. And I know you’d hate that, or at least hated all that when I was alive. I remember your rants about how all those people dying deserved it. Shouting at the telly like they personally offended you just by existing. Do you still think like that, all these years later? Hell, now here you are, dying on a hospital bed while your queer son laughs at you. What a twist!" Charles laughs, but it doesn't sound right even to himself. He, once again, pointedly doesn't look at Edwin. Looking at Edwin means dropping the brave face, and he's got a few more things to say first.

“You know, you’ll think this is weak or whatever, but I checked in on you and mum over the years. Neither of you could see me, and I never stuck around long, but I wanted—no, I needed to see. If I was the only one you beat, if you’d turn to mum now that I was gone. If you felt any remorse when I died. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I’d seen you raise your hand to her. Probably taken up Edwin here’s offer to haunt the shit out of you.”

“I never—“

“Not in those words, love, I know, I know. But you meant it like that and you know it. Anyway, thankfully I never saw it. And she didn’t cower like I did, or hide any bruises, so I figured you were safe there. As for remorse, well, never really saw that either. I was bitter and angry those first few years over that. Thankfully Edwin here kept me busy. And now I can’t really be arsed, especially now that you’re dying and I can’t find much remorse either. Angry it took you so long, maybe.”

Charles once again looked at his mother, at the tears on her cheeks and her face turned in silent prayer.

“Even if you never beat her, I still wish you’d given her more time without you. Did you ever visit her family? You shot it down every time she even hinted at it when I was alive. And she’d smile and move on like it didn’t hurt her to hear that the man she married hated her family that much. You know, I used to promise her that I would take her to see them again. I’d tell her that once I was grown up we’d run away and live in India where you wouldn’t care enough to chase after us. She’d swat me for that. Disrespecting you. It always came back to you. Which is just how you wanted it, right? The whole world revolving around you? So fucking glad I got out of there. I shouldn’t have had to die for that, but whatever. It let me live free of you. And soon enough I won’t have to worry about you at all.”

Shoes squeaked obnoxiously right outside the door. Charles glanced up just in time to see Niko giving him a thumbs up as Crystal pulled her away from the glass. Turning back, he was glad to see his mother hadn’t turned away from her husband. No need to confuse her or get the girls in trouble.

Charles sighed and turned back to his father, “Not really sure what else to say here. Edwin? Any ideas?”

Edwin thankfully took the playful question as seriously as Charles meant it, “Hmm. You could tell him about hell if you’d like to be especially vindictive. Or take the moral high ground and forgive him for all he did to you. Crystal and I would also be happy to curse him for all he did if you’d like. Literally or figuratively.”

Charles genuinely laughed at how his father’s eyes widened, “While that sounds tempting, he’s already on his way out. All we’d do is freak out my mum.”

Edwin gave him a soft smile, “Of course. Just a suggestion.”

He returned the smile and squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to his father, “Right. Well dad, I’m glad I caught you before Death did. I won’t speak to hell or anything, don’t want to jinx it, but I hope you get what you deserve. I’m not going to stick around to find out. And I won’t forgive you, either. You were a right bastard and I still struggle with getting you out of my head even after literally dying. So you don’t deserve my forgiveness, honestly. I’ll keep an eye on mum, but that’s for her and my sake, not for yours. Probably won’t go to your funeral or any of that, either. I’ll be a little mad if they bury you next to me, but those are just bones by now so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Yeah. I think that’s it. No forgiveness, no love, just hope you get what you deserve and that I never have to see you again. That about sums it up.”

Edwin squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention, and speaking softly, “Does that mean you’d like to go? We can wait if you want to be sure.”

Charles once again felt overwhelmed with it all, particularly with how lucky he was to have Edwin. He didn’t want to start crying here, so he just nodded and pulled Edwin with him out of the room.

“How’d it go?” Crystal asked from her seat in the hall chair, Niko nodding next to her.

“He’s dying alright. Gave him a piece of my mind. But I’m ready to never think about him again, honestly.” Charles tried to make light of it, but it was clear none of them bought it. He blinked up towards the ceiling to keep the tears away just a bit longer.

“Once we get back to the apartment, expect plenty of hugs from us.” Niko informed him, eyes glancing down the hall at the others down the way.

Charles smiled, “Noted. Sorry to make you come all the way out here, guys.”

“Nope, none of that—“ Crystal started, but was cut off by nurses suddenly rushing towards the room, obvious some alarm or something had been pulled. The girls stood in a rush to get out of the way.

“We’ll see you back at the apartment!” Niko called back to the boys as they took their leave.

Edwin held his arm out, the way he did when he wanted Charles to feel especially cherished, “Shall we?”

Charles turned very purposefully away from the door and took the offered arm with a thankful smile. He would need to have a proper cry and rant and rave about all of this later, he was sure. He’d come to learn that all those complicated emotions don’t just go away when you ignore them. But, for now, he was happy to hold onto his partner and get the bloody hell out of this hospital.

~

EDIT: now with part 2 !!

[interconnectedmatrix]

What if...?

The feminine urge to write something about Barbatos admiring the MC from afar. I'd love to call this idea "To Every 'You' I adore" and honestly I'm digging it.

♡.. In a scenario where in almost every universe, almost every timeline, the MC chooses anyone BUT him. Although instead of taking action, Barbatos swallows it all down, often watching MC from a distance. Was it fair to think luck was on the human's side?

♡.. When Mammon took MC to the casino, they seem to have won every bet.

♡.. When Leviathan told MC about this raffle to get tickets to a concert of their favourite idol, they seem to get that PLUS VIP access backstage.

♡.. With Satan they went to the finest of cafés and tasted the most delicate of confectionery. With Asmodeus MC kept 'accidentally' trying new garments for them to love. With Beelzebub it's all you can eat, much to the sweet grin they had while wiping off the crumbs off the sin's face.

♡.. With Belphegor was special; MC's constellation perfectly aligned at the time of their date — so they themselves could admire from afar.

♡.. With Solomon they'd fly through the skies in a hot-aired balloon, looking down at city lights of a new place. Or better: new to Solomon, but held deeply in MC's heart. A place that they themselves could admire from afar.

♡.. With Simeon, MC could accidentally spill ink on the parchment, and instead of ruining the page it created waves of gray; a scenery of inspiration for the setting of the angel's new story. A place so far, to be admired in the lens of the reader.

♡.. Lucifer would comment at how MC's luck was astonishing, terrifying even. It's odd to think how a mere human would always have good fortune. Almost always.

♡.. With Lord Diavolo, MC would go and chuckle at their humble remark, while the prince's lips placed soft kisses on the human's knuckles. How their smile brings light in the darkest days of the harsh coldness the Devildom brings. The sheer warmth present in their every word. It's not always the case, but that was how he viewed it.

♡.. Barbatos would put up an indifferent smile, watching the human mingle with his lord. It was in one of these instances where even with the immense ability to control time, he felt powerless. Much to the fate's dismay, this was when he hated the path of destiny. In almost all outcomes, it was least likely he'd end up with his beloved. How he adored MC, even if they were bound to never be his.

To quote: "Even with how repetitive this scene gets, his immortal beloved never ceased to amaze him like the very first time."

Who knows? It sounds almost like a lovesick idea as I myself am unsure if this leans more on fluff or angst. Tell me if you guys liked the idea, or how you may suggest that I improved it! ^^

Aka this is Vee's Barbatos brainrot since I've been craving Barb content but also very specific kind of Barb content so this is me attempting to fill that void before Solomon or Mammon take over my writings.

Anyhow, that is my "What if?" Scenario! :D

That is all and have a nice day~! 🫶

[zoe-oneesama]

You think that the reason their nightmares aren't super scary and junk is because sandboy is like 8?

That's probably a decent in-universe reason. Meta wise, it was probably just to keep things light hearted and funny even as the characters are being terrorized.

The show made the nightmares "comedic" even when their characters have issues. Even Adrien's fear of being trapped and confined is undercut by his "joke" about being grateful that Plagg's not a sock. I mean, grown adult Tom's nightmare is his dough coming to life to eat him, even though he has real grown problems like being disowned by his father?

It's why I went pretty soft with Chloe's "nightmare". Rather than being a person's real, conscious greatest fear (since I'd argue Marinette's real greatest fear, both in Scarlet Lady and canon, would be Hawkmoth winning and hurting her friends and family), it's more literal - it's the kind of nightmare someone could literally have, literally dream up, but come to life.

[letterstomichelangelo]

just imagine, end of season 5, its the end of episode 8 and the party have defeated vecna, byler confessed, theyre happy.

we see the party heading off to college, new beginnings and all that. mikes helping will pack up his stuff into a pickup truck, he says something like "well, looks like we're all done, everything's strapped up!", will walks over to him from where he was saying his goodbyes to joyce, jonathan, hopper and el (shes going to a local college with max in this idk) and just with every bit of softness in the world says "thanks for helping me pack, mike, are you sure you don't mind bringing all this to chicago for me?" and mike's eyebrows just shoot up because he literally went to hell for this man, and in the most sassy tone you can imagine "uh, yeah, we're gonna need some type of furniture for our new place and the government hush fund didn't stretch that far" will lets out a little chuckle, "damn, its the least they could do after the last 7 years" "i know right", mike squawked out, "anyways we better start heading if we want to make it there before dinner, see you soon mrs. byers!" muffled tears of happiness can be heard from her, and her voice wobbles slightly when she shouts back "call me when you get there and send pictures of the apartment! i love you boys", even a sniffle can be heard from hopper when he shouts out some reminders for driving the long distance. as the boys get into the truck, will shouts "we'll be back for thanksgiving, you'll hardly know we're gone" and as mike pulls away from the newly renovated byers-hopper house, there's this perfect shot of a normal loving family wishing their son(s) off to college and in this moment everything is forgotten, no more upside down or vecna or demodogs, no more possessions or otherworldly connections, just two boys holding hands over the console of the car as they set off to a new city, knowing that no matter what happens they'll always have eachother.

me and michael, solid as they come

me and michael, its not a question now

[justaz]

merthur reincarnation au, merlin is constantly roaming the earth and running into various reincarnations of arthur’s soul. neither know but there is always this draw between them. they’ve met in many different lives with many different dynamics. when do they realize/remember? when arthur’s body is mortally wounded.

in one life they met on the battlefield, leaders of the opposing armies. they often ended up fighting each other and they grew to respect the others tactics and plans. despite being enemies, the level of shared respect grew to an odd fondness. merlin’s rival in his own army grew tired of watching merlin dance with the enemies leader and decided to step in and put an end to it. they attacked arthur from behind and left him for dead. merlin, who saw the whole thing but was too far away to do anything about it, rushed over to be by arthur’s side as he died. arthur took off his helm then and merlin was faced with a man who looked eerily similar to the man who had died just a couple of centuries ago. arthur’s memories began to rush back and he bled out and merlin Knew when arthur stared up at him the same way he had the first time he died. merlin was unable to save him then too.

in another life, merlin had taken to simply roaming, no settling down and no roots. he was homeless and napping on a bench outside a cafe. a woman came out with a bag of perfectly fine baked goods that she was supposed to throw out (dictated by corporate) and she instead brought them over to merlin and set them down by him. merlin woke at the sound of the crinkling bag and met her gaze. it became routine after they closed, she would bring merlin the goods from the day. merlin eventually began to come in and sit at the tables inside every once in a while and talk with her when it was slow. one night, merlin was late to his bench and when he got there the lights were still on and the door was unlocked but he couldn’t see the nice girl who always gave him food. he shuffled in and found her bleeding out from gunshots behind the counter where the cash register had been emptied out. merlin was there for her final breaths and she joked how he could definitely do better than living on the streets. merlin realized who she was as the light left her eyes.

in another life, they were corporate rivals. another they were best friends for five years. another they were pirates and merlin ended up delivering the final blow. another they explored the stars together. etc, etc.

merlin losing him again and again after just finding him. arthur remembering everything right before he dies. a horrible cycle that seems never ending. merlin is forced to live thru the deception arthur suffered over and over again - finding out just who he has known for years is someone else entirely but not having the time to revel in it. arthur suffers the other end of their twisted dynamic of never being able to express his true self until the end wherein death is imminent. the cycle continues for millennia.

eventually, like all things, humans destroy what they had whether it be nuclear war or climate change or what have you, the earth reclaims itself and sends humankind back into their caves. everything there once was is gone and now left with nothing, humans return to their roots. magic flourishes and spreads as new civilizations begin to establish themselves. merlin, oddly enough, hasn’t run into an arthur reincarnation in centuries. not until he ventures into a village and finds a young man toiling in the fields. he dons a face merlin hasn’t seen in millennia. when he looks up and catches merlin’s eye, he smiles wide and calls out for him.

he remembers

[varidoodle]

I will forever be upset at the fact that we never got more Dark Kingdom lore. Like, did they throw parties/celebrations? Did they have certain traditions? What were the citizens living there like? Genuinely, what was the Dark Kingdom like when they didn’t have to worry about the rocks?