#this got long I'm so sorry

[rillils]

post fall bucky having a fear of heights?? ive always thought that he'd be afraid of heights, like he wasnt afraid of it at all before his fall, go ask steve. but after falling?? he tries to hide it from steve, how scared he is.. and steve, bless his poor soul, he blames himself for not realizing sooner, he thinks he shouldve known, he couldnt possibly have. hes always seen bucky as this brave courage man, and bucky didnt want to ruin steve's image of him worse than he already think he did. and oh my fucking god

THE POST PLANE CRASH STEVE BEING AFRAID OF TIGHT SPACES?? BECAUSE IT BRINGS HIM BACK TO FEELING THE COLD SEEP IN THROUGH HIS VERY BONES WHILE HE GETS CRUSHED BY ALL THE WATER, ICE, AND DEBRIS?? DONT GET ME STARTED OH MY GOD

HONEY I FEEL LIKE YOUR LEVEL OF CRUELTY TOWARDS ME SPECIFICALLY IS REACHING DANGEROUS LEVELS HERE

but I get it, I getchu hon, sometimes we just gotta put the blorbos in a Situation™, that's how we roll.

but holy shit 😭😭😭

I mean god, Bucky-

imagine how tough it must be for him, every time they're on a mission, 'cause he's first and foremost a sniper, isn't he? and for him, that often involves perching on the roof of really high buildings, and keeping as still as possible for as long as necessary - and above all, keeping a steady hand, because what is a sniper supposed to be if not precise and lethal and reliable?

and factor in all the other possible contingencies, too! like having to bolt if he's spotted by the enemy, and having to climb back down in a rush. or helping chase after the bad guys from rooftop to rooftop. or when, god forbid, they have to jump out of a plane and parachute themselves to a certain site.

it's an absolute nightmare for Bucky, but he just keeps trying to tough it out, right? grit his teeth, push through even when his flesh palm is clammy with sweat, even when his stomach is churning and his legs feel like jelly, even when his hands start shaking despite his best efforts to hold them still. it's scary and mortifying all at once, and he can't bring himself to say anything about it to anyone, especially to Steve. because he knows Steve would try to suggest he take it easy and stay behind, while Steve himself is out there risking his neck, and the very notion makes Bucky feel sick.

so he's just desperately hanging in there, right?

until something happens. he's dizzy, his hands are shaking too bad, he flubs a shot, Steve almost gets killed because of it. Bucky snaps. this is the last straw. he's done.

I mean, imagine how it must tear. him. apart. how horribly it must hurt him to admit to himself that he can't go on like this anymore. because on the one hand, fuck it all to hell, he's supposed to be by Steve's side! watch his six, protect him, make sure he makes it home in one piece! it's what Bucky's been doing ever since they were kids, it's a fundamental part of who he is! to even imagine letting Steve walk into a fight alone - no, not 'alone', without Bucky - is unthinkable. it's like denying himself a basic need. like denying who Bucky is, what he feels he was born to do, a biological imperative.

but. on the other hand, the thought of putting Steve in danger, of Steve getting hurt (or worse) because Bucky couldn't do his job properly, is even more unbearable.

Steve counts on him, trusts him with his life - as he should be able to do, if they're going to be a team - but how can Bucky allow that anymore, now that he can't even trust himself? how can he be what Steve needs, if he's going to let him down when Steve needs him the most? how would he ever forgive himself if something happened to Steve because of him?

he barely holds himself together until they get home, and then he just, he breaks down. stumbles over to the couch, crumples in on himself, trembling, pale like a ghost, taking in big gulps of air like he'll drown otherwise. telling a worried Steve, who's crouching next to him in a heartbeat, "I can't do this anymore".

now Steve, he had noticed that something was off for a while now, and Bucky's words just confirm what he already suspected. he thinks, of course Bucky's sick of this, of course he doesn't want to fight anymore - god knows he's got plenty of reasons to want to leave all this shit behind.

Steve could never imagine what the actual issue is, here - not until he's trying to tell Bucky that it's his right to retire if that's what he wants, that of course Steve supports him, and Bucky interrupts him to confess, in between sobs, where exactly the problem lies, and how he fears he's no longer fit to accompany Steve on missions, 'cause he'd risk becoming a liability rather than backup.

CUE A WHOLE SHITTON OF FEELS because fuck, how long has Bucky been feeling this way, and how did Steve not realize it sooner, and the way Steve's face twists with guilt when he wonders where this fear of heights might come from, and gives himself the most obvious amd most fucking heartbreaking answer, and Bucky can tell that he's hurting and blaming himself and they're just BOTH hurting and blaming themselves and hfgskfjskks HONEY WE'RE SPEEDRUNNING THROUGH ALL THE STAGES OF GRIEF HERE HELP

no, but. they're gonna have an honest conversation about this, okay? painful, yes, but also liberating. they're going to air out some of that hurt, and actually let it heal out in the open for once.

I figure there's gonna be lots of bargaining first, on both parts, like Bucky arguing that he could still fight, just maybe stick to the ground instead, and Steve telling him that he doesn't have to, and really he'd be happier knowing that Bucky's safe at home and not forcing himself into dangerous situations, and Bucky grumbling 'cause oh how the tables have turned, and just, you know, trying to find a way to compromise.

I think, maybe this is how Steve first starts to really, genuinely consider retiring, himself. like, not just picturing it in a distant, wistful way, oh wouldn't it be nice if we could do that, etc - but really, really entertaining the idea. letting himself plan it out. talking about it with Bucky, even with Sam and Nat, giving himself the chance to consider another kind of life. after all, there are plenty of battles to fight in the world, and not all of them require fists and guns, right? and if he can fight those battles too alongside Bucky, then so much the better 💖

CLAUSTROPHOBIC STEVE THOUGH OMG

somehow the first thing that comes to mind is that one scene from CATWS, when he and Nat find Zola's computerized ass and he blows up the building, and they're stuck in a tiny hole under all the rubble until Steve gets them both out. I CAN PICTURE ONLY TOO VIVIDLY HOW FUCKING SCARY THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR HIM, OH MY GOD

as somebody who shares that kind of phobia, may I submit to you one of the most obvious, most mundane monsters he might face: ELEVATORS. especially of the narrow, non-see through kind, where you're literally locked inside a metal box until it releases you from that torment. IF IT DOES. like honey the anxiety is real af okay

in the spirit of putting the blorbos in a Situation™, please picture them both in an old-fashioned elevator.

Steve hasn't mentioned his fear to Bucky, he's just been lucky so far, so he didn't have to bring it up. but the stupid thing is so slow, and the space inside is so small, and sure, Steve never minded being in Bucky's close proximity, but he can't stop thinking about getting the fuck out of there asap.

at some point the fucking thing stops, and oh good god they're stuck inside, and it's gonna take a while for help to come.

and Bucky, sweet, horny, unsuspecting Bucky, just makes a little joke about knowing just how they could pass the time until then, wink wink. he crowds Steve back against the already narrow wall, starts sucking languid kisses into Steve's neck-- and Steve's frozen, breathing in quick shallow breaths that could be mistaken for gasps of pleasure, holding onto Bucky with an iron grip because he can feel himself spiraling into panic, heart racing wildly, eyes darting from wall to wall like he can see them rapidly closing in on him, suffocating him, squeezing him in--

and it takes a moment for Bucky to realize what's really going on, but when he pulls back and sees Steve so terrified, hyperventilating and about ten seconds away from passing out, he switches into Protective Boyfriend mode like *snaps fingers*

he's like, "sweetheart, what's wrong?", and the second Steve gasps "out, I need to get outta here, now", Bucky springs into action and pries the elevator's door open with his bare hands, helping Steve climb out (the next floor was already into view) and following suit.

of course they're gonna talk about it (and realize that they should maybe stop hiding their respective fears from each other), and from then on... yep, they stick to stairs <3

[ratasum]

Let's Talk About Thaumanova!

This is undoubtedly going to get long, as I want to dig into a few things, including the potential name of the city that was destroyed in the meltdown, how much was/is known about the reactor, and theories/wild mass guessing. So it goes under a cut.

So for reference if you somehow don't know, most people know Thaumanova as one of two things:

A named area within Metrica Province where the Fire Elemental world boss spawns. There's a great deal of magical temporal displacement that takes place in this location, and NPCs can be found that refer to the disaster.

The fractal that encompasses the timeframe roughly one year before the beginning of the Personal Story that shows the events of the reactor meltdown that destroyed the city far above it.

According to in game dialogue from a researcher you can talk to at the entrance to the named area, the location was formerly an asuran city. Research the Inquest was conducting far below the city caused a chain reaction/meltdown that caused the reactor to go critical and level the area, leaving the city a ruin.

The implication provided here is that the location we're in is a city high above where the Thaumanova Reactor actually was located, where the Inquest was doing its research with Scarlet. He provides no details of what transpired here, nor does he name the reactor or the city itself.

It's implied that basically an entire city was wiped off the map, but NOT that the city itself was Inquest. The city was a simple asuran city cube, and the Inquest research was apparently secret... until the year before the PS.

On the other hand, nearby, you can visit a camp with survivors. It can be hard to get the applicable dialogue here, as there is a repeating event chain where Inquest from the Inner Complex will attempt to or have succeeded in kidnapping survivors from the city/reactor meltdown.

Gliga is a peacemaker you can speak with at the encampment.

She has some interesting dialogue regarding the reactor that contradicts (somewhat) what the researcher above spoke in regards to.

Gliga seems to indicate some knowledge of the reactor, but while she mentions the reactor itself, no name for the city itself is given. I have theories on this! But we'll come back to that in a moment.

Next up is Refugee Ejint. He was in the city when the reactor melted down and destroyed it. He's one of the lucky survivors, and gives us some clues on what happened to people in the city who weren't lucky enough to make it out.

Yikes!

This does go along with the thought, however, that a number of people did die- probably a significant number. If they didn't die, they were transmuted into Something Else. I'd also like to theorize that being displaced from reality or tossed into the mists is also a possibility, considering you can see animals being popped in and out of existence in the reactor (and in Brisban and the Iron Marches!).

There aren't any other refugees or survivors we can speak to here, but this is a good start. (Note: if you try to speak to other refugees, they'll cough, start crying, moan, or mutter things like "oh no no no.")

I won't get into the reactor itself too much, as it doesn't give us much more detail into the city itself, and we mostly know what transpired there.

(It is interesting to note that Dessa clearly knew two researchers, but didn't quite recognize them, stating they changed... but Dessa's fractal echo appears to be from about 20 years prior, so my general theory for that is one: her friends aged 20 years, and two: they're Inquest where they may not have been before. She also has dialogue from LWS1's initial drop that mentions knowing about the Thaumanova lab itself! Which is interesting! But we don't really get anymore detail on that.)

That being said... on to the Brisban Wildlands!

The reactor's explosion had far reaching effects, and the nearest location we can see that is in the Brisban Wildlands. The most notable of which is the Toxal Bog. Here, you can see the remnants of a ton of magical residue, and creatures that pop in and out of existence. My guess is the reactor's meltdown affected this area significantly.

Also in Brisban is the Thaumacore Inquiry Center POI and hero point. It appears the core of the reactor was eventually removed by the Inquest, though there's no indication as to when. It's possible this may also be what affected the Toxal Bog, but there's no way to know for certain.

I sometimes wonder if the orb you see at the end of the Thaumanova fractal isn't the power source seen here, but that's neither here nor there.

The final spot (that I'm immediately aware of) on our Thaumanova Tour is the Iron Marches! This is an interesting one, since we learn that the reactor's explosion didn't just affect the city and the immediate area... it also affected the location the crystals used in the Inquest facility were mined in: the Chaos Crystal Cavern Jumping Puzzle.

And the effects of the chaos rifts are varied indeed.

So with all this information in hand, what can we conclude?

It's time for theories!

In general, we know painfully little. We know there was a reactor called the Thaumanova Reactor, and there was (at one time) a city above it. We know there was a loss of life, be it from people dying, being transfigured, or a variety of other things that may have affected them (displaced, yeeted out of existence, etc).

We also know that the reactor meltdown happened in a lab deep below the city, not in the city itself.

My general theory is that the reactor was in the city, or at least underneath it, and WAS a known item. I do think the Thaumanova Reactor was what powered the city cube that was there at one time. I don't think, however, that they shared a name. Large asuran settlements have very standard naming principles, as seen with the known examples below:

Quora Sum

Rata Pten

Rata Novus

Rata Arcanum

Rata Sum

Rata Primus

I do think it may have been something like Rata Thauma or Rata Nova (though Rata Nova is a stretch... it's very close to Rata Novus, which may a) have the implication of bad luck and b) call to mind Zinn, who was pretty unpopular, to say the least).

My guess in this regard, since no one was aware the lab was under the city, was that the laboratory didn't even have a name, or at the very least if it was named for the reactor, it was sold to the people in the city as not actually being down below so as to allay any fears the citizenry may have about having a giant Inquest laboratory right under their feet.

(I am aware that Dessa mentions the Thauma lab, and that she was aware it was "a nasty place to work," but it's the only line that exists and iirc it was ONLY in the og LWS1 drop, so it's equally possible she didn't know exactly what it was or what research was taking place there. I could be wrong, though, and if anyone has screens of that dialogue, please feel free to add them on! That said, we do know from the researcher the lab was not known about prior to the reactor meltdown. That fact is, at least, solid.)

So what happened to the city cube?

My personal theory is that the city cube is the Uncategorized Fractal. Having Dessa's former partner (supposedly) there doesn't disprove this, either: we know Dessa in the fractal echo is from roughly 20 years prior. Her being so hesitant about the empty city doesn't necessarily mean that she was aware of the reactor meltdown. If sh e and her partner had a falling out, or if she's seen this loop enough to know what's at the end...

It could elicit the same response. And we know things can be ripped OUT of the mists, so why not placed into the mists as well? The Raving Asura's dialogue also pairs neatly with some ambient dialogue from a survivor in the Survivors Encampment.

(My Gyazo busted and I didn't catch the dialogue in a screenshot, but you can read it here at this link... it's the first piece under At the Survivor Encampment, and there's other interesting dialogue below!)

Obviously Your Mileage May Vary, but it's REALLY fu n to speculate and think about this place. It's a great place to look to for information if you want a LOT of trauma for your asura's backstory, be it by being a survivor, losing family while they were away, being an Inquest researcher who escaped, or maybe even by being distorted by the shifts in reality when the reactor melted down.

I jokingly say the Thaumanova city cube is my Roman Empire, and genuinely, I talk about it because people who aren't playing asura may not even realize it was there.

But I hope this provides some neat information on a little known/talked about piece of asura lore!

[queerdiazs]

made up fic title: clenched fists and pretty bruises

ryan you meanie head

mm, i'm thinking season 4 right when buck finds out his parents planned him to save daniel. his parents apologized and they talked, but buck still has so much pent up rage, the kind that burns you up from the inside, and eddie's been down that road, knows how it goes, so he comes over to buck's and doesn't take no for an answer when buck tries to turn him away. he drags buck out of his loft and to a hole in the wall warehouse gym, says if he's gotta get his emotions out he can do it here under the supervision of professionals, and they spar, and talk, and spar, and yell, and buck's getting a lot of his aggression out, and then eddie shifts and slides and buck falls on the ground. he doesn't get up, not really, but he rolls over onto his back and he's crying, these big fat crocodile tears, and eddie gets rid of those observing so buck can have this moment to himself. eddie lets buck cry himself out, knows this isn't something he needs to be part of, and once he's done he takes buck to the changing room and works on unwrapping buck's fists, slowly and gently, and reminds buck that there's a lot about him to love. he's selfless and silly and genuine, even when he's a pain in the ass, and that has buck laughing, chunky and thick, and then he tilts forehead and presses his forehead against eddie's shoulder, and eddie squeezes the back of buck's neck, and they sit there and be with each other for a long, long moment before buck sniffles and pulls back and grins, and makes a joke about how it took this long for the two of them to take a swing at each other. they both laugh, and eddie notices buck's a lot lighter than he was before, and his heart gives a curious thump at that, but he's too preoccupied with watching buck devour the post-workout burger to worry too much about it. <3

send me a made up fic title and i'll tell u what i'd write to go with it <3

[red-talisman]

My ask is about the golden core transfer and what it would mean for jc. So, if it triggers you, don't read it! I feel the need to alert about this! Be safe!

I don't know you, ( and yes! wwx was just a traumatized teenager!), but the golden core transfer gives me so much negative emotions. Fandom focuses on wwx's pain (and it's interesting! ) but jc's situation is dismissed with "you have to be grateful about it. What a disprectful brat he is" and I am like, dude, you okay? (maybe their opinions are influenced by what wn says, without understanding that what he says isn't the truth, but only what he knows would hurt jc, because he *wants to make jc suffer*). I tried to think about what *I* would feel and I triggered myself, lol. I would get insane if I knew that someone put my brother's golden core in me (transferring organs is okay, but in this? I don't know that it's from my brother! Also when people say that jc agrees to the surgeon, I don't know if they understand the concept of "informed consent") . It's disturbing. I can't even imagine how jc feels about it! How can you live in a body which is modified in this way? Do you feel shame? (this is something a lot of victims feel). And I am not even talking about what this would do with jc insecurities! No one ever appreciated his efforts! Maybe in the moment doesn't , but wn's "you would never compere to him!" would destroy jc! And that's terrible and unfair. And more unfair it's how fandom treats this argument! My loved ones manipulated me for my sake : this doesn't make anything better! I can't imagine jc's feeling. This ask is messy, but my emotions are messy about this. The only thing that I know is that disturbed me the way fandom treats all of this. I don't want to be too harsh but I would see wwx and wq as monsters more then heros for this. And I am not even thinking about how can you trust again someone who did this to you! People can't forgive cheating in a relationship, lol. Oh, and the "jc and wwx's relationship is destroyed by jc's jealousy" : I am like: you okay, dude?? But maybe I am the weird one. Sorry if I seem rude! But this argument just triggers me

Thank you for the warning. 🥰

(Under a cut for both length and content. Reminder that I'm a CQL-only fan.)

Fandom focuses on wwx's pain (and it's interesting! ) but jc's situation is dismissed with "you have to be grateful about it. What a disprectful brat he is" and I am like, dude, you okay?

From what you're saying, I think I'm hearing that while the whole golden core scenario itself is upsetting for you, what's worse is really more about how fandom tends to talk about it. If I'm interpreting that correctly, then...yeah, honestly, I agree. 😕 And it sucks, because I think the characters of MDZS/CQL are supposed to be messy, and there are some truly delicious, nuanced discussions about justice and love and sacrifice to be had! Unfortunately, I've had to be more liberal than usual with the block button to avoid losing my love of the show due to the impact of fandom discourse.

Honestly, I feel like the whole fandom response thing often comes down to a few overlapping things:

a person is inclined to defend whichever character they like more and/or reject the character who reminds them of people who have hurt them in some way, which is totally normal! But doesn't lend itself well to textual analysis so much as an analysis on this how a piece of media affects me personally, which is an entirely different thing;

whether some element of the golden core transfer reflects a personal trauma (e.g. bodily autonomy) closely enough to shape their perspective on this whole episode in a way that's different from someone who lacks a similar experience;

a person's comfort level in allowing a character's actions -- especially a favorite character's actions -- to be complicated, messy, and maybe even morally questionable;

whether or not someone has access to evidence-based, accurate information about larger social issues like abuse, consent, etc.

I tried to think about what *I* would feel and I triggered myself, lol. I would get insane if I knew that someone put my brother's golden core in me (transferring organs is okay, but in this? I don't know that it's from my brother! Also when people say that jc agrees to the surgeon, I don't know if they understand the concept of "informed consent") . It's disturbing. I can't even imagine how jc feels about it! How can you live in a body which is modified in this way? Do you feel shame? (this is something a lot of victims feel).

Tbh, I also have some pretty strong feelings of my own. I talked about some of that here, from the perspective of a religious person whose faith has some distant parallels to Taoism. And as a survivor who hasn't always had a say in what happens to my body, I struggle with some of exactly what you describe when I think about the golden core thing and especially fandom's common responses too deeply. (It's why I'm writing a JC-centric fic like Crashing Like Stars in the first place, honestly, lmao.)

I think what I struggle with most is the pageantry that's shown in CQL: how WWX and WQ have a whole theater around it that somehow feels almost as bad to me as the act of transfer itself, maybe because it shows how much premeditation went into what is, by definition, gaslighting. I always have to skip this scene on rewatches, tbh. The non-consensual core exchange is bad enough; the playacting feels like a humiliation to me.

And I am not even talking about what this would do with jc insecurities! No one ever appreciated his efforts!

True, but to be fair...why should they? As far as most other characters are concerned, JC is unfriendly, probably not very fun or pleasant company to sit down to tea with, very obviously cares more about his own sect than anyone else's**, and has had the reputation of a disfavored son for years. The only reason to make nice with this guy is purely for politics, but everyone else has enough of their own stuff happening that there's no incentive to try giving JC the benefit of the doubt -- which he wouldn't even accept anyway, since he'd probably interpret it as condescension or pity.

**Which is true for everyone, of course, but he doesn't have the charm or charisma to at least fake concern for people or 'play the game' like JGY.

If you mean that fandom doesn't appreciate his efforts...I'm not really sure what to say to that mostly because I'm still puzzling over HOW DARN POLARIZING this fictional character is. 😂 Even his haters can't be chill about him and it's rather fascinating to watch, like a trainwreck.

And more unfair it's how fandom treats this argument! My loved ones manipulated me for my sake : this doesn't make anything better! I can't imagine jc's feeling.

I think a lot of people confuse things like context and motivation for justification, and even more so when it's a family member and emotionally charged beliefs about family relationships get pulled into the mix.

This ask is messy, but my emotions are messy about this. The only thing that I know is that disturbed me the way fandom treats all of this.

Unfortunately, when not treated carefully, discussions about fictional characters can cross into more real-world consequences. I've certainly blocked people less because of a disagreement in interpretation and more because their line of argument betrayed much deeper biases that made me feel actively unsafe, and I don't always have the resources or bandwidth to try educating folks who aren't here in good faith.

I don't want to be too harsh but I would see wwx and wq as monsters more then heros for this.

I think it's a false dichotomy, honestly. I don't think WWX and WQ are heroes or monsters: I think they're young people put in horrific circumstances with limited resources and support, forced to make decisions with no good possible outcomes. Again, not meant to justify anything, but I think recognizing that the things we label monstrosity is, itself, a very human thing to do is the best way to begin recognizing why it happens so that effective interventions, preventions, and methods for taking responsibility for one's actions to encourage real healing can be put into place.

And I am not even thinking about how can you trust again someone who did this to you! People can't forgive cheating in a relationship, lol.

Oh man, forgiveness is complicated. Some people DO forgive cheating and even worse, for a whole host of different reasons and motivations! (Me, I hold grudges for years.) But forgiveness can also be customized to a situation: maybe forgiveness is earned, not freely offered; maybe it means letting go of one's resentment towards another but not letting that person back into one's life; maybe the refusal to forgive is itself an act of self-empowerment because forgiveness was always coerced and guilt-tripped prior to that. But again, we come back to folks in fandom not always having a solid grounding to have productive, informed conversations about this sort of thing, which can lead to some REALLY unhelpful hot takes going around.

Oh, and the "jc and wwx's relationship is destroyed by jc's jealousy" : I am like: you okay, dude?? But maybe I am the weird one. Sorry if I seem rude! But this argument just triggers me

I don't think you're weird at all. 😊 JC and WWX's relationship is thorny and messy and multi-layered, compounded by unaddressed trauma and mutually conflicting coping strategies and perspectives, exacerbated by the people around them playing political games with their relationship because of their respective positions of power. I think JC's jealousy is a factor, but it comes from being constantly compared and found wanting since childhood, and we have multiple scenes in CQL where WWX does something Cool (TM) and JC will do that half-exasperated smile or roll his eyes with a laugh or something that clearly isn't mean-spirited. The evolution of their relationship is made by a progression of smaller decisions on both of their parts in the context of family dysfunction, loss, war, and political powerplays, and I think flattening it down to "JC is just a jealous bitch" or, conversely, "WWX is just an arrogant asshole" does a disservice to WHY these goddamn characters have taken so many fans emotionally hostage, lmao.

LONG STORY SHORT I agree or am sympathetic with a lot of what you say, anon, with maybe some different perspective on other pieces, but I found that MXTX fandoms became a lot more lovely when I began using blocking features liberally (and, frankly, avoiding Twitter altogether).

[disfrutalakia]

i want to hear about the omegaverse

Hello good morning (or afternoon i did kinda woke up at 2pm but anyway) I'm glad to tell you about it

Okay first, this was a kpop fanfic but like there were no kpop elements apart from the guys names and appearance, but that doesn't matter

The omegaverse in it was very classic, just the good old omegas can have babies and alphas get people pregnant, but the 17 years old Kia already hated omegaverse that made the omega be all weak and just baby machines so the main character who was an omega, was the ceo of a hotel chain, the place was close to bankruptcy because of his dad being arrested which led to the omega having to step in as president of the company, and now he has to close a deal with the bank so he can get money to keep the hotel afloat (yeah I had no idea how businesses worked alright, I was 17) but you must be thinking "Kia, where is the omegaverse in this?" Well, you see, this character had to hide the fact that he was an omega because his parents hated him for it, so he had to take heat blockers and scent suppressants.

And now let's get into the other guy, the alpha who was nothing to me but eye candy who was there sometimes, he was the ceo of a rival hotel chain who also wanted the deal with the bank, so he and the omega have to compete for it, good old rivals who fuck sometimes

It would be simple if it was just that but no, I had to get something else in the story, the two have a past together.

They were high school sweethearts, who dated in secret cause if their parents found out they would be forced to break up. But of course they do find out and force them to break up, the omega has to go with a random girl to prom, but of course the moment he and the alpha see each other they go do things at prom.

Basically after the party is over, they fuck and the omega ends up pregnant so sad, the alpha has no idea about it because he ran away after they fucked that night and went to another country.

And then, yeah that was it, I never actually finished writing this I had like 3 chapters written and then my brain couldn't write kpop fics anymore so I abandoned it along with my mafia fic </3

[aymmidumps]

Andrew doodles

[vaguely-concerned]

can't believe garak went from 'hope you have fun following my little breadcrumb trail of maybe-truths doctor it builds character ;)' at the beginning of the show to '*sigh* fuck it here's the whole loaf. the entire fucked up bakery of my soul. if you somehow still wanna have sex with me after this you know where I am, yours in infinite longing etc.' in a stitch in time. has anyone ever been so pathetically horrifically enduringly down bad as garak is for julian (laudatory)

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 2

🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie

This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window. 

It’s not happening. 

Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his. 

Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light. 

It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone. 

Who’s hurting you, Steve? 

Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and— 

“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.” 

“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will. 

He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again. 

He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so… 

So much like Eddie’s fucking problem. 

He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe. 

It’s just not tight. 

“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it. 

“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?” 

He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm. 

But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time. 

He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—

“I don’t know what.” 

It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again. 

Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small. 

“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.” 

Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks. 

Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about. 

God, he never did like blood. 

“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?” 

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.” 

“Her.” 

Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right? 

“What?” 

“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”

Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own. 

“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.” 

That's... really fucking endearing, actually. 

And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet. 

Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?

He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out. 

“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.

Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion. 

“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?” 

Oh no. 

“Why’m I in y—“ 

“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?” 

Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer. 

Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too. 

Past all of it. 

Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house. 

But he can’t. So he breathes. 

At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people. 

But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers. 

“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?” 

“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.” 

And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now. 

He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel. 

He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view. 

The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice. 

It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe. 

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?” 

He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.

“Ed?” 

“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.” 

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—

Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again. 

“Ed. Are you in trouble?” 

“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“ 

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?” 

He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.  

“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.” 

“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?” 

Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”

“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.” 

It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole. 

He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side. 

“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door. 

It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this. 

“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much. 

He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on. 

Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now. 

Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?

“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask. 

Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me? 

Somehow, Eddie manages a smile. 

Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen. 

Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now. 

Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away. 

Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break. 

“Blue, you with me?”

Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.

“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?” 

“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest. 

Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder. 

“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady. 

“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know.” But maybe I will. 

“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.” 

Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.” 

Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.” 

Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is. 

Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.” 

It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home. 

This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible. 

And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie. 

He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.

Why not? You need a doctor—

Monsters. Only monsters there.

It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back. 

Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch. 

He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear. 

“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.” 

Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.

Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up. 

Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away. 

It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not… 

He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier. 

These things don’t happen. They don’t! 

“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.” 

Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately. 

In. Hold. Out. Hold. 

He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void. 

He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.

Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad. 

Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore. 

Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue. 

He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. 

Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve. 

“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.” 

“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right. 

“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue. 

“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds. 

“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers. 

”I want my mom.“ 

”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?” 

Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away. 

He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama. 

”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.” 

And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”

Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared. 

And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted. 

And now… 

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?” 

Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this. 

“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…” 

“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”

And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment. 

He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that? 

But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk. 

“Thank you.” 

Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie. 

“For, uh. This.” 

“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.” 

Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.” 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness. 

“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation. 

He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out. 

“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.

He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking. 

Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small. 

Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again. 

Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words. 

“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?” 

“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“ 

It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again. 

“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?” 

Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is. 

“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug. 

Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt. 

“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest. 

Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again. 

“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.

More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment. 

“Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.” 

The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them. 

“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”

It soothes the urge to scream.

Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth. 

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car. 

Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Later, Ed.” 

And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real. 

But it did. And it is. 

And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside. 

He has a phone call to make.

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)

addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3

[cut-aare]

🩸🫦

[groovyangelkisses]

hi my sweet baby suse :') love you sm n'just wanna know your thoughts when it comes to sitting on jax's lap <3 would he pet your hair? call you sweet little pet names? just wonderin' <3

anything for you clo, my pretty girl ! 🫶🏻

this became super long-winded, i just think he's neat :')

cw: jealousy, slight! innocence kink, potential 'opie yearning for reader' moment (who's shocked?) slightly nsfw

personally, i think jax is constantly pulling his girl into his lap. whether it's because tig is getting a little too friendly, or you've been talking (gazing) at opie for a tiny bit longer than he'd like, it's like you make a movement & you're in his lap. he's very "hey, where you goin' sweetheart, hm?" all teasing and smug and smiley, pulling you by the wrist to sit on him.

while jax loves having you in his lap to see you get all blushy and shy "c'mon darlin' they all know you love sittin' on me" (never letting the opportunity for innuendo pass him by,) he also loves the sense of pride that he gets from having a pretty, sweet thing like you perched in his lap. while jax is all leather and dirty t-shirts and baggy jeans, you're sweet pastels and soft fabrics— the warmth that jax is slowly starting to feel in his heart again.

and he'll take any form of lap sitting, by the way. if you're sitting directly on him, after you deliver some comment about jax bein the "comfiest, cleanest chair here!" he'll laugh, and wrap his big arms around your tummy, his face in your hair, whispering dirty jokes and funny comments about juice and chibs in your ear.

and if you're sitting sideways? legs spread across his lap and dangling over his thighs? his hands never leave them. one hand protectively holds your ankle, fingers lightly fiddling with the cold "J" anklet he bought just for you. his other hand slides up and down your leg, pausing to lay his palm flat on your knee, or to slide his extended hand up the sides of your thigh. and jax knows nooo personal space with you, by the way. so you two are face to face as he talks, his strong nose brushing against yours, and when he leans over to tell you a secret, his beard brushes against your cheek. eventually, his hand starts to slide up the center of your thighs, and his lips get a little too close to the sweetest spot on your neck, and he notices opie looking at the smooth skin of your face too long, and suddenly he can't help himself. nights like those usually end with you happily skipping behind jax as he leads you to his clubhouse room, trying to supress a smile at your obvious affection and excitement for him.

that being said, jax is a veerrrryy jealous person, so whenever he senses a prospect gettin' a little too close for his liking, he'll give you the look and you'll know where to go. of course, jax never tells you exactly why he'll suddenly stop your conversation with happy and ask you to come (essentially) straddle him in the clubhouse— he never wants you to know the true, horribly corrupt fantasies of the other male bikers.

so he'll take you in his lap, hooking your arms over his shoulders and pulling you together; chest to chest, him pressing against your panties in a comforting way. jax will pull the hem of your dress down and hold it still (he saw them trying to take a peek, and if he's being honest it took everything in him not to flip the pool table and start screaming) and start the sweetest little whispers in your bejeweled ear "my sweet girl, you know how pretty you are, hm? you know everybody here wants you? but they can't have you right? can they?"

and like clockwork, this same song and dance you get into everytime there's a meeting, you nod happily. and jax'll smile, a nice, wide, shit-eating grin aimed just as much at you as it is at the other samcro members looking onward; always yearning for a girl like you— loving, loyal, only having eyes for the blondie they all yearn to be.

his hand will move to your hair, softly running his fingers through it, soft applogies leaving his lips as your hair gets tangled in his rings, and he'll always kiss the corners of your lips to make up for it. he'll press your head to his chest, a big, protective hand sprawling across the back of your hair, holdin' you to him "just rest your eyes a little darlin', i gotta talk to the guys abit, kay?"

oh and he will. his hands running up and down your back and hair, in lulls of the conversation he'll kiss your cheek and ask quietly "still with me, babe?" and wait for your comfortable purr of "mmhmm" and continue on with the conversation. and he knows no one will ever say anything, they wouldn't dare. you're his little "doe in the headlights" and beyond jax's admittance, he needs to feel you in his hands just to get through the fear that he battles with everyday— the fear of disappointing the club, trampling his father's legacy, losing you. the thought makes him tighten his grip on you, hugging you like a child hugs their teddy bear, and the pressure, the sheer weight of his love is so fulfilling, you'll happily flirt with juice if it means it'll always end with jax holding you like this.

[tonksxandromeda]

Andromeda set the bottle of wine and a glass in front of Cressida. It was obvious that whatever was on her mind was bothering her, especially as it had led her to her front door. Very few of the pureblood families deigned to acknowledge she existed, let alone wanted to speak with her. She was quiet, giving Cressida the opportunity to gather the courage to say whatever was on her mind. She sat back with her own tea in hand, listening intently for a moment to be sure she could hear Dora still playing quietly in her room.

The moment she began to explain the situation, she understood why she had come to her. The story Cressida laid out so familiar to her own. She had to commend her for the length of time. Ten years? She couldn’t even fathom. Meeting Ted in secret even those few years at Hogwarts had been unbearable, she couldn’t imagine having kept up pretenses any longer than that. She didn’t miss that she didn’t give her the name of the boy she loved, but she doubted it mattered to the predicament.

“I think the fact that you’re here asking me this leads me to believe you already know the answer.” She gave her a knowing look. “If you came here hoping for encouragement then you’ve come to the wrong place. You have to make this decision knowing what’s at stake. You are already aware they consider me a traitor. Family, people I once thought friends, they want nothing to do with me.” It was brutal but it was honest, and Cressida needed to know what she would be giving up. “And I wish I could say it gets easier, but it doesn’t. It may always feel like you’re missing a part of yourself, I certainly do.”

She shrugged. “But I’m also married to a man I love more than I could possibly have imagined. I have a family I look forward to coming home to every day. And I’m happier than I ever thought possible.” She opened her mouth to speak again, but Dora chose that moment to come dashing into the room. “Mum!” She called, only to pause as she saw the unfamiliar girl in their house.

“It’s alright Dora.” Andromeda assured her daughter, pulling her into her lap where Dora proceeded to curl up, toying with her mother’s hair. “This is Cressida…” Andy looked down at her daughter with a fond smile, brushing her mess of hair back out of her face. After a moment she returned her attention to Cressida, a knowing look on her features. “I can’t think of anything more worth it.”

Cressida felt off standing in this house. And not because it was smaller than the manor she was used to. That was no problem to the woman. Tib's place wasn't big too compared to where she had grown up. She felt off because she wasn't supposed to be there at this very moment. The woman turned around so she could face Andromeda who started about elderflower wine. That sounded like a very good plan.

The woman sat down at the kitchen table, folding her hands together so she wouldn't be playing around with her fingers out of nerves. She took a deep breather before opening up her mouth.

"What I'm about to tell you is something no one knows but a few trusted people." Cressida bit her lower lip for a moment. "Ever since Hogwarts, so for the past ten years, I've been together with someone on and off. And I love him so much, but he's not someone my parents would allow me to be with. His blood is not pure." He wasn't a Muggle but it wasn't enough for them either.

The blonde watched the woman in front of her who had been in the same situation. "My parents are currently setting up a betrothal for me, but I cannot see myself with someone else but this man that I love. I want to be with him."

Cressida took a deep breath before speaking up once more. "So that's why I am asking you... Is it worth it to throw the life you know away for love?"

[francy-sketches]

sorry I got posessed by the wattpad demon I'm normal now (lying)

+alt version that didnt fit the #aesthetic but it better represents my #vision of them ^_^ hashtag couplegoals

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[breadmecoshy]

Oumota comic, Part 2

Headcanon - Kaito has nicotine withdrawal during the events of Danganronpa V3 (among other things, what happens to him there). Just a cute little comic

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/breadmecoshy/736606178824650752/oumota-comic-part-1?source=share

Plot Twist - After finishing the main game (which we all want to believe was a simulation), Tsumugi became so attached to the guys at V3 that she talked Danganronpa's company into launching a spin-off in romcom format in which she would try to bring together the couples most popular with viewers

joke (or maybe not)