#I am so sorry y'all

[msbhagirathi]

IPKKND LIVE BLOG - Season 1 [Epi - 2]

Cooooommmmmmmeeee ooooooonnnnnnnn, letz start the second epiiiiiiiiii.

So we are starting right from where we had left them off. ANDDDDD BAAAAMMMM! Khushi jolts out of her (or rather their?) trance and realizes where her hand is, snatches it back. Pulling out Arnav from his trance as well.

I want you to focus on their expressions in the scene. Look closely, when she snatches her hand away from his collar. His gaze, instantly falls down to her hand and there's a moment where he steels himself and maybe even thinks that 'How dare she!'.

It's as if Arnav realizes that he needs to be angry and THEN all hell breaks lose, as he throws her out of his hands. He orders the head of his PR team to control the photos and videos of this 'scandal'. Khushi is locked in a room for interrogation.

Back in Gomti Sadan, the neighborhood aunties are gossiping about Khushi's absence. Buaji asks about the papers' whereabouts to Payal. But, Payal, already very nervous and tongue-tied, reduces to tears. I am surprised why did Buaji not see the change in her demeanor and most importantly her spilled tears. But, that's also not much surprising coz Buaji can hardly ever read Payal or Khushi's distress over anything that they seem to be facing alone, in the entire show. This scene also indicates that Payal has never been the rule-breaker kid, she's always been kind of a 'yes-man' to her parents.

Ohh! Did you notice how Khushi's voice sounds so off? Do you know why? Turns out Sanaya was sick with cold while shooting this sequence. She mentioned this in that interview with Mrs. Gul Khan, which was released right after IPK ended a few months ago.

Arnav instructs the team to interrogate Khushi and check whether a rival company (Re-Fashion? RI-Fashion? REE-Fashion? whatever, lol.) send her there to ruin his fashion show in exchange of some petty amount of money.

Payal's belief, of her Abhishek ji standing up to his family's demand of the dowry, breaks. She realizes that he is present there, knows everything going on but still refuses to speak up. She is heart-broken.

Was it only me or you also thought that the way Sanaya pronounced 'profession' is kind of-idk-intriguing?-sexy?-hot?-pata nahi choro (ok, leave it.)

Garima tries to associate the papers' absence to Khushi's absence. Payal has been caught like a deer caught in headlights.

Arnav comes to meet or rather to interrogate his wife 'that' girl, for 'answers'. Khushi requests him to let her go as she explains him that she landed there by mistake.

He is so adamant in throwing all the unfortunately familiar 'accusatory' questions. What was that 'Wipro-Fashion'? 'PRO-Fashion'? Whatever. See, many of you would disagree, here, but I think he is legit right in doubting her intentions, given the type of people he would have dealt with till now in this profession. Although, WE know, from Khushi's POV, that she is right, BUT that's the thing, he doesn't.

"Then let it (the marriage) break. Problems like these are nothing for girls like you. If one leaves, then trap another." ("Toh tut jaane do shaadi. Tum jaisi ladkiyon ka kya hai. Ek jayega, dusra phasaa lena.") And the BG score changes to something close to tandav beats. Maybe, just maybe he realized that he has struck a chord or crossed a line or fcked up real bad. It can be any of the three.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! The dreaded moment is here. Khushi retaliates but she does not realize the volcano in front of her, ready to burst out with hot, molten lava. She attempts to side step him but he grabs her by the arm and yanks at the dori of her blouse. Pearls scatter around, everywhere on the floor. Khushi is horror struck, devastated, horrified and all the girls watching this for the first time already knew what that meant. And hated Arnav for doing that to her for a long, long time.

See the irony, here. In the previous episode, we saw them together in that beautiful frame. No-one had any doubt of them being the alpha couple of the show. BUT. BUT. BUT.

After this scene, audience must have doubted, some might even have gone to the extent to declare Arnav as the villain. And later considered Shyam as the hero, coz of the way, he was introduced (we will come to that in that episode).

Hmm. I am thinking. Why did he let her go? Like? So....easily? After she pulled the ribbon from her hair and covered her exposed back, or rather her modesty. Arnav has frozen. At his spot. He isn't even moving a finger. (I will have to process this scene and then will let you know in a separate post.)

With this, the scene blurs and along with Khushi, we reach Gomti Sadan, where everything is eerily silent. Wait. Did we reach so early? Didn't Khushi take the whole day to reach SM? Then how come- ohh Guilty Arnav might have arranged a car for her to reach her home safely-Lol. Who am I kidding with? This is ASR, we are talking about. Let's stop with the wishful thinking.

Gomti Sadan. Gossips. Malign in their social image. A broken marriage. All of these are termed as a "Kali' (black ink) by Buaji. And who's at fault? Khushi. She talks of pulling off her braid and handing it to her. Basically, beat her ass off.

Buaji, I think, was never able to accept Khushi as her own child. She was always the only one to differentiate between the two. She was only the one who instigated Garima and Shashi against her. Although, Shashi had wholeheartedly accepted her as his daughter but Garima, often used to get manipulated into believing the worst, in Khushi.

Even now both Buaji and Garima are convinced that Khushi was, somehow, jealous of her sister's fate (that she was getting married) and so to malign it, she decided to sabotage the wedding by taking away the papers and fleeing out of everyone's sight until the wedding is called off.

Lol. Junior Engineer. And Buaji thinks, that's self-explanatory for them, having a right to ask for a dowry. Khushi explains herself. But, she is admonished by her (B-ji), for acting like a 'Dadi Amma', means trying to act above her age, by interfering in elders' matters.

Still, for the Guptas', specifically for Mrs. Garima Gupta, a broken marriage is worse than Payal getting married into a money-hungry family. Do you see it here? Getting MARRIED is of more importance than getting married into THE RIGHT FAMILY.

And as if all this admonishing and insulting is not enough, so, she kind of disowns her daughter. "Mat kaho hume Amma".

Khushi, who already had abandonment issues, guilt of being a burden to 'this' family, is now shell shocked. Someone please save this poor kid.

Buaji does it again! Hip, hip hurray guys! She again pulls up the orphan card and a non-refundable debt (of getting adopted by her brother and sister in law) card! What an awesome timing Buaji! Shut up Buaji. What? Shashi said this. Not me. I have manners, ok.

"Arre tujhse saga humara koi nahi hai." Payal's words calms Khushi to some extent. But, they are still not enough as we see that Khushi cannot sleep, and keeps tossing and turning, recalling her amma's harsh words.

She wakes up and opens their shop's door. Khushi is shown handling an LPG gas cylinder, an oil cannister and lighting a match stick, giving us the impression of her attempting to give up her life.

Precap starts. *quickly pauses it* I don't watch precaps. Spoilers. Don't like them. Bye. Such a stressful episode to watch.

P.S. : Remember the interview I was talking about? This is it. Please do give it a watch if you haven't already. It's so beautiful them sharing the off-screen things and being all nostalgic. You'll love it. :)

Next Episode!

#arnav and khushi #arnav singh raizada #ipkknd #khushi kumari gupta #i iz strzd #i dont like these kind of epis #thats why i used skip in between #but skipping them also ruins the continuation of the story #so i have to watch this any ways #ok bye #not in a great mood #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #ArShi #Hey! y'all #i realized that i got drunk while watching the episode and didn't complete that rival company wali line. #I am so sorry y'all #i also made some other minor changes if you wanna read it again in case. #i wanna talk about so many things from this episode damnit. #lets see #bye again and good morning to you hav a nice day ahead

[sapphism-and-nihilism]

Emergency: Funds Needed-PART TWO!!!  

NEVER EVER UNDERESTIMATE LIFE'S ABILITY TO GUT-PUNCH YOU WHEN YOU THINK THINGS HAVE SETTLED DOWN INTO BEING OKAY AGAIN BECAUSE THAT IS A FALSE FALSE FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY, LET ME TELL YOU TLDR: Had a cat emergency again that involved me footing a $250 emergency room bill earlier this saturday-which was basically all the money I had leftover after rent+having to get MORE insulin syringes because the ones I ordered already were being delayed in the mail, SO-LET'S TAKE THIS FROM THE TOP, ONCE AGAIN, HERE WE GO:

-My commissions are currently open Indefinitely(currently taking a break until Dec1st, but I will get to working on any that I receive throughout the month until the final week of December between adoptables): https://itaku.ee/profile/nat-cha/commissions

-I have adoptables open for flatsale-I am even currently in the process of going through my personal OC's+listing character designs that I haven't even looked at for the better part of 5years:

https://toyhou.se/Natcha-Adopts/characters/folder:625622/order:age_desc

-I have a patreon you can support me from with some tier-based perks+rewards: https://www.patreon.com/Nats_Creations

-I have a Kofi you can donate to: https://ko-fi.com/C0C36DPR

-Even if you cannot currently help me financially, spreading this around would also be VERY much appreciated

#text post #psa #OH BOY HERE WE GO AGAIN #I am so sorry y'all #turns out having an elderly cat WHO MAY OR MAY NOT ACTUALLY HAVE DIABETES ACCORDING TO THE EMERGENCY VET IS JUST PRICEY AS HELL #I been knew BUT STILL

[bee-snail]

Honestly, just because of that disgusting creep Ch**rio I headcanon Varian growing taller than the Baron or the Stabbingtons.

is this tall enough for you

#have you ever watched attack on titan? #NOT GONNA LIE GUYS #I'VE BEEN GETTING SO MANY ASKS REQUESTING TALL VARIAN #i am so sorry y'all #maybe i will do a real tall varian drawung someday #but i do not wish to mingle in the tall varian controversy #therefore #Attack Titan Varian #this is what your requests led me to make #have i made a monster? #i love him BWAHAAHHAHDHSHF #IM SOBBING #i think I'm gonna incur the wrath of the varian fans #tts varian #tts rapunzel #tts fanart #you can tell im scared because of my lack of tags AHDHSFHHSS

[his-name-is-stewart]

#I am so sorry y'all #I'm trying #fic updates

[dutifulsilence]

ooc ; saves a ton of things that got lost in my notifs to drafts

#ooc ; salem speaks #i am so sorry y'all #i got lost in the ganlink sauce again

[panevanbuckley]

posting fics for random ships i'm suddenly hyperfixating on and confusing my ao3 subscribers is a hobby actually

#i am so sorry y'all #i know this isn't what you signed up for #ao3 #fanfic #ships

[thisisarcanereverie]

Hey guys!

I am so sorry for the radio silence lately, I have my boards coming up (MBLEX) so I've been studying non stop. But I have most of the final chapter out soon, and for those in my ask box.

I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU! I am so sorry, I will get to your requests shortly I promise!

#rev asks #ask rev #i am so sorry y'all #I will be back being a menace soon #x reader

[solomons-finest-rum]

so while I was away Tumblr not only changed my password but also unfollowed some of the blogs from my list, thank you so much Tumblr indeed that's just the technical feature I longed for 🤦

#i am so sorry y'all

[ghostsxagain]

//okay so I'm working from home for 4.5 more hours and my drafts are screaming at me so I'm gonna try to fire off some of those??? dive in and see what clicks??? yeah, good plan//

#I might as well give it a go right? #I'm itching for new threads but like I've got over 230 drafts so might want to make some progress in there before I go completely buckwild? #I am so sorry y'all #laughing my anxiety off {ooc}

[blueboxfanwork]

Personal update/1 month hiatus:

Y'all I am really sorry. I should have recognized what's going on with me earlier as this is the third time. The short version is I doubt I'll be able to update until I see this ADHD screening/medication search through to the end. Though I will try to utilize Turkish-style coffee as an intermediate solution and get at least one update out for those who don't follow this blog. The long version is more personal but may come in handy for anyone writing a character who realizes they have an invisible disability or are neurodiverse so I'll put it below a spoiler thing.

Ok so as I said I have noticed this three times. Once for depression and anxiety, again for autism, and now for ADHD. It's a process that goes somewhat like this (writing in first person cause that's easier and idk if this is universal):

Something makes me realize I may have the condition in question. For me it was reading articles or in the case of the mood disorders a mandatory mental health screening from my pediatrician in middle school (side note that should be a universal thing if it isn't already).

Frantic research, looking for personal perspectives from people with the condition, symptom lists, anything. I also did little experiments seeing if coping mechanisms for the condition in question worked for me. This didn't happen with my mood disorders IIRC, I went right to step three.

Extreme distraction. Partly it's looking at my entire life through this new lens, watching pieces fall into place. If medication is a possibility, the fact I could have functional nuerochemistry but don't drives me up the fucking wall. Either way, it takes time to come to terms with the fact I've been measuring myself against people who don't have the obstacles I do. And that others are gonna keep measuring me against them.

Treatment. With my mood disorders the fact I was making progress toward being treated was enough to help even before I got on meds, though obviously meds helped more.

I am currently trapped in stage three. I can get some writing done if I stare at my computer screen for literal hours and I am doing that every night (except tomorrow night because I was also unable to run D&D last weekend for the same reason and I'm hoping that last-minute deadline can help me get the next session ready). But that doesn't mean it's on the upcoming chapter.

I am painfully aware of the irony of my inability to get things done spiraling out of control because of the realization I probably have a nuerotype characterized in part by having an extreme difficulty getting things done. I'll laugh about it as soon as I regain functioning. In the meantime I am so grateful my current job doesn't necessitate doing things before the last minute. In fact when you're a substitute teacher you really can't do anything but.

#ADHD #neurodiversity #writing advice #personal #post cancelled #I am so sorry y'all

[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

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington whump #this is so long i am SORRY #i hope tagging y'all was okay (and equally i'm hoping i missed nobody but also it is 3am) #who did this to you #most of y'all will know most of the beginning already maybe i should have split it up but i wanted y'all to have Something New too #and then the Something New got out of hand and oh well :( #dio words

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

ok so summary of my next fanfic is kasper watches cecil from a perch in the shadows like a feral beast and he is also half naked

#goosey rambles #i am so sorry y'all #i have been uh..... extra.... normal these past few days.......

[cipher-the-sidhe]

Stay with me, Birdie...

for Apex Polarity by @naffeclipse

#apex polarity #orclipse #orca!eclipse #polar nights #photographer!y/n #naffeclipse #idk how y'all learn new drawing programs #i am SUFFERING #don't make a blind girl learn a new drawing program it's so hard! #I was gonna render this but I couldn't figure out Krita and my eyes hurt :') #sorry naff #but! the Feesh

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

i'll melt your heart into two @jkvjimin ♡

#userbangtan #usersky #annietrack #heyryen #dailybts #usermaggie #userkelli #useremmeline #raplineuser #usersolis #useryoonqiful #userpat #tuserandi #rjshope #nuggettracks #mine! #kim seokjin #btsedit #seokjinedit #i am so proud of gif 2 y'all wouldn't believe #hi pat <333333 i finally did it! just for you babe #what pat wants pat gets #thank you for the request honey!!!!!!!! #sorry it took me so long #ok bye <3

[genshin-impact-updates]

Happy Birthday, Diluc!

Huh. When it suddenly flew off, I thought it had discovered a hidden foe. Turns out... it was just you.

I guess it really likes you. I hope you don't mind that it took off with the present you brought. Thanks.

Since it's still early, why not take advantage of the time to watch Mondstadt's sunrise together?

Long nights are always followed by a magnificent sunrise. I think you'll enjoy it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact updates #official #genshin impact news #official art #birthday art #diluc ragnvindr #OH SHIT OH SHIT #COAT OFF... 2!!!! #my diluc obsession is coming back y'all i am so sorry for who i'm gonna be today

[ca-8]

"Thank You, Angel..." (Part 1 of ???)

Silence screamed.

Drops of decay either echoed in the distance or fell inches from his withered nose. They aided in the cackles and chirps and growls that erupted from within each shadow. Each shadow that held home of the little critters with those little desperate, famished white eyes and wide toothless grins ready to devour anything with even a hint of a pulse. And when those critters couldn't stand the empty pits of their stomachs, those cackles and chirps and growls and drops of decay sang along with the tormenting squelches and tears of his miserly flesh ripping off and into those widened, toothless grins. And when they were done, after hours of slow, burning agony and screaming filling their stomachs, and the decay hushed to sleep as those horrible little critters scurried off toward their master -

silence screamed.

DogDay hated it all. He hated each sound of falling wood or concrete or spare intestine hitting the floor. He despised the critter's sounds as they drew near. But most of all, he hated the silence, because it was a constant reminder that his friends were gone and no hope gave a breath.

All alone. Always alone. With nothing but a wonder as to when he would finally draw his last breath.

Poppy's words once gave him back a lifelike glimmer. She speculated that someone had to come back here to save them all, an ex-worker, a total stranger -

an Angel, perhaps.

Just someone, anyone who can release them of this constant, lingering, rotting despair.

But so much time has passed. DogDay lost count at…he didn't even know, it's just been years and years and years, perhaps even decades. An eternity of this sickening silence since the day their revolutionary feast took place.

That glimmer was smothered out long ago.

.

.

.

.

.

Were those footsteps?

Not the little pitter-patter of those godforsaken critters, no - human footsteps. They were distant, but carefully drew near. As they closed the distance, a shriek from those little monsters echoed throughout the prison.

DogDay's head perked up, but only slightly. If he had a little more energy he'd call out for help, and more certainty too. Maybe he was finally going mad. Maybe what's left inside his head is feeding him false hope with these made up sounds hinting to a rescue.

No, not a rescue. Whatever he had left was drowned in the past.

His head slumped back down, and critter's shrieks halted. But the footsteps grew closer. DogDay didn't want to remove his gaze from the floor and risk disappointment, he knew it was nothing, that even if someone managed to sneak in here, there was no way they would survive this hell. He knew that thing was right, no one was coming to save-

"Oooooh nooo…"

His head sprung up, earning a little gasp from a

a human. An actual human, standing right there in front of him. It - They - couldn't be a hallucination, could it?

No. No hallucination. No human either. With how those lights beamed down on their glowing, moving skin and illuminating the life in those eyes, this was a blessing from Above. "Hello…?"

DogDay realized they were inching closer, but he was too stunned to flinch or tell them to get away. He could only voice his stagger.

"You…You're Poppy's Angel," he choked out through his voice box. "Come to save us…!"

The Angel blinked. "Uh, yeah…" Their eyes were widened; no surprise, anyone not too familiar with this decrepit place would be shocked to see him like this. A pathetic, filthy excuse of a dog wasting away. That's what they were thinking. They had to be. "Nothing left to save, not here…" He held his head back down.

"What're you talking about?" Their voice was as sweet as honey, so filled with life.

"You're in CatNap's home, Angel. Their home." Just saying that thing's name left a disgusting bittersweet taste in DogDay's mouth, but he was given a second chance at being useful, he had to take it.

"A million of pairs of eyes are on you right now," he continued. "Watching…waiting….hungry." A faint spark of terror flooded the (e/c) in those beautiful, breathing eyes. "They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit." He spat out the last word before heaving in a gasp. "…fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"I-Is that…what happened to you, DogDay….?" they asked, eyeing the bitter remains of his lower half.

They knew his name. He appreciated that, although couldn't express it too much. "I'm afraid so, Angel. Because of…that…that thing. CatNap. The Prototype is his god, and this is what he does to heretics."

The Angel snuck a glance at the darkened hallway outside their halo and quickly returned their gaze to DogDay. He continued.

"These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate, and in return, they are fed." DogDay coughed. Black substance spewed out of his mouth and onto the floor. "We tried to fight it, the Prototype's control. I'm…the last of the smiling cri-"

His right arm fell to his side.

…Wait.

DogDay's ears bucked up and he turned to his side. His right arm dangled heavily right by his torso, and the belts that were supposed to be supporting it up to the ceiling were cut short. His gaze whirled to his left side and saw the Angel reaching up to cut off the other belts.

"Angel! Wh-Wh-What're you doing?" he frantically yelped, swinging his torso back and forth.

"Sorry to cut your speech-thing off so quickly, but I think we may have a problem!"

It was at that moment DogDay heard the heightening shrills and screeches from the critters. A sharp chill ran down him and his heart stopped. They were coming; so many were coming! Coming for him! He was about to die if they couldn't get away!

"Angel, please, go! Leave me! Save yourself!" he pleaded desperately. A growl erupted right next to his ear, and DogDay turned to come face-to-face with a miniature Bobby Bearhug. A scream almost escaped his throat until a small flare flew past his face and shot mini Bobby back into the darkness.

"I'm sorry, but could you stop moving so much? This is hard enough as it is!" As they said that, their knife (which he noticed was strangely colorfully patched together) cut through the first of the two left belts. His body darted right towards the floor, but not until Angel caught him with their arm.

"Angel PLEASE! I beg you!" Tears pricked his empty sockets. The shrills were so loud they might as well be on top of them.

But the Angel kept their gaze glued onto the last belt, and as soon as mini CraftyCorn entered the cell, he was finally free.

The Angel hopped down and kicked mini CraftyCorn back into DogDay's worst nightmare: a sea of predators mirroring his friend's appearances. The Angel spun around and ran the opposite direction.

"Don't worry, I got yo- OOOOOO-!!!" The floor collapsed beneath them, and they landed right onto the bottom floor. Well, more like the Angel fell right onto the floor with DogDay cushioned safely on top of them.

This couldn't possible get any worse.

DogDay tried turning his head. "Angel? Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it! I didn't mean for this to happen! I swear!" He wanted to get off of them to ease whatever pain they were in, but his arms were held up for so long, he could barely even feel anything in them anymore. 'Pathetic! I'm pathetic!'

"I'm fine…I think-!" The Angel got up and sprinted to the end of the hallway. "Just don't look back!"

They held DogDay in a position where his only option was to look back. Snuggled tightly underneath their arm, he watched as a tsunami of critters dashed towards them, snarling with hunger. Hunger for him and his Angel.

He whimpered loudly until they spun him around. "Sorry-! Sorry! I got you!" A flash of another critter was summoned to the right, then suddenly wished away by the bright flash of the Angel's flare. DogDay couldn't do anything, only let his heart squeeze and whimper at the sudden sight of painful reminders until they're blown away by the Angel. He looked up, their gaze was locked forward, doing what he should be doing.

But he couldn't. He was worthless. Just like that day.

The poor withered dog squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't watch anymore. If it weren't for his weak arms, he would cover his ears as the screams of the damned drew ever so near, or maybe do something actually useful. He felt himself get heaved up and a sudden wind blew against his tattered face. Then, he was lowered, and the Angel gasped for air.

Where were they going? Was there even an exit? He couldn't look. He didn't want to look. If he opened his eyes he would only see the Angel get devoured and it would be all his fault.

It wasn't until they were both thrusted into the air that his eyes were finally forced open. Below them was a deep pit of darkness with the critters nearing the edge they hurled over. For a second, he thought they had jumped towards an everlasting sleep, until the Angel landed right onto a lift.

The door shut behind them, and devastating shrills and shrieks were muffled. They were….safe. DogDay was safe, and the Angel didn't die. He hadn't killed them after all.

The Angel gently lowered him onto the floor of the lift and pressed the button to lower them back into, if he could remember correctly….Playcare. They collapsed onto the floor, and the thud snapped him back to reality.

"Angel! Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry!" DogDay tried to haul himself towards them until they let out a strange chuckle.

"That…holy shit. That was awesome! But also terrifying. And tiring. God, my legs, I'll be surprised if I can even walk once we get down there. What were those things? You called them critters? I kinda feel bad for thinking they were kinda cute now, SHEESH those little devils were relentless!"

The Angel went on and on and on and…not a hint of anger was on their face. DogDay only stared at them in disbelief. They hopped on their knees and leaned closer to him, making him flinch.

"Anyways, are you okay? I don't know why you're asking me, you're clearly the one who needs help here! How long have you been down here? Actually don't answer that. What happened to you-? Wait, wait, don't answer that either, sorry!"

"You…." He finally choked out something. "You…saved me."

"…Well yeah!" A big smile graced their lips. How were they glowing even brighter than before?

"You…You saved me…!"

"….Yeah! Go team!"

Something was building up in his throat. More tears streamed down his face, but there weren't any rivers of regret or disappointment or self-hatred… DogDay leaned into his Angel's chest.

"Oh, hello!" they said cheerfully.

DogDay sniffed and looked up, and for once, a big, genuine smile filled his face. "Thank you, Angel…! Thank you so much!"

They froze there for a second, and their stunned expression melted to that of warmth. He felt their hands wrap around him and gently caress his back. Nothing could ever feel more soothing.

Softly, they giggled. "Hey, call me (Y/n), alright? You're giving me too much credit." ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙

Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜

#dogday #dogday x reader #poppy's playtime #catnap #poppy playtime chapter 3 #canon x reader #x reader #fanfiction #wholesome #my baby #baby boy #i love this boi so much #we should've gotten the option to save him #and Im doing dogday because people have been saying he's in his mid 20s #I am not comfortable with the (big bodies) catnap x dogday ship y'all im sorry lmao #smiling critters #gender neutral y/n #open commissions #angst with a happy ending