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assembletheimagines · 2 years

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Could you do a smut where Bucky has the alter ego of the winter soldier and you push his last button on where you flirt with one of the team members!❤️🖤🥵

Mine

summary: Bucky reminds you who you belong to

warnings: 18+ to interact, smut, pet names, orgasm denial, cream pie, choking

note: Don’t come for me idk how to write lmao my mind is a puddle of goo rn and all I heard was Bucky gets jealous and shows you who you belong to~

tag list: @potatothots @elle14-blog1 @getwellsoontana @avengetheunnatural @littlelightnings

Bucky’s grip on your arm didn’t falter until you were in a semi-empty room.

Boxes were here and there, some even stacked on top of one another, most likely filled with supplies or art work since you both were currently attending an exhibit for heroes. But you couldn’t focus on that, no, your eyes were solely on Bucky who stood before you giving you the same attention.

“You think you’re cute, huh?” His tone was dark, eyes icy as he narrowed them at you. And you felt a pleasant shiver run down your spine because of it. You smiled at the super soldier and decided to feign innocence.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” your response wasn’t what Bucky was looking for, but that wasn’t a surprise. You could have sworn his eyes shined like he was actually pleased with your answer.

“Oh, so you think it’s fine to be pressed up against Sam?” Bucky mused and the air shifted, the tension building with every second you two stayed in the small room. “You don’t think I saw you flirting with him?” He asked and your mind flashed the memory that was only minutes ago.

I mean, in your defense, the exhibit was boring. You believed the heroes did deserve the praise they got but while everyone fawned over Bucky and Steve, everyone else was just kind of casted aside?

Sam, who was also a hero and attendee had easily sidled up to you by the bar as reporters and women hung onto every word the super soldiers spoke while Tony didn’t pay attention to anyone but Pepper, flirting in the corner like they were a bunch of teenagers.

Natasha, Clint, Yelena, and Kate were nowhere to be seen since the four of them snuck out before anything even begun and the other newest recruits of the hero world walked around the exhibit together in awe in the meantime.

And if you were being honest, you weren’t even sure why you were there. So, with Sam knocking back his whiskey and then ordering another for himself and another drink for you. You decided to have some innocent fun.

And you were banking on Bucky noticing. Smiling when you caught his gaze as you brushed your hand down Sam’s arm, laughing at something he had said.

It didn’t take long before you were exactly where you were now.

“Well, you were busy,” you hummed and Bucky crossed his arms over his chest.

“Bend over,” the command was simple but it immediately had your imagination running wild as you continued to stand as you were, a jolt of electricity running through your body at his words.

“Excuse me?” Bucky wasn’t going to repeat himself and didn’t waste any further time as he walked over to you and immediately turned you around by the waist. He pushed you forward until you found yourself bent over one of the stacked boxes in the small room.

You felt warmth on your back as Bucky leaned over you and brought his mouth close to your ear. “When I tell you to do something,” his voice was low and cold and it made you shiver in response. “You do it.” And then his hands were on your dress, pulling it up.

“Bucky-” you started but got cut off as his fingers pulled your panties to the side and slid up your wet folds earning a moan from you.

“You’re mine,” he growled and you could only gasp as his fingers suddenly filled you as his other hand kept you bent over. “But if I have to remind you,” he began to thrust his fingers, filling the room with your moans as he picked up the pace. “Then I will.”

Your mouth dropped open as he added another digit and your own fingers clutched onto the edge of the box as Bucky stretched and filled you with his fingers again and again.

You were always so responsive for Bucky and it didn’t help that he knew what spots made you moan so pretty for him. But just as the coil in your abdomen began to expand, his fingers were removed and you were hearing a zipper sliding down.

“Bucky-” you went to look over your shoulder but just then, he lined his cock to your entrance and pushed in. The action made your head drop and your walls stretch to accommodate his length as he groaned above you.

“Take it all, Bunny.” His words made you keen and his hands held onto your hips. “I know you can.” He cooed and you moaned as you felt every inch of his cock slowly fill you up.

And once his pelvis pushed against your ass and he bottomed out, he was already moving back. He left only the head of his cock inside before thrusting forward and stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Mine,” he growled and began to pick up the pace. The sound of skin hitting skin and your moans resonated through the small room and made him go faster with each thrust. Pounding into you as you held onto the box. “You’re mine and only mine,” he grunted and your mind began to fog up. The pleasure coursing through you and fueling the coil in your abdomen as he rolled his hips into you over and over.

“Yours,” you gasped and your eyes rolled up as his right hand wrapped around your throat and brought you up. Your back was now against his chest as he rutted his hips into you. “Only yours,” you babbled and Bucky squeezed as his metal fingers found your clit.

“That’s right, baby.” His mouth brushed the back of your shoulder and you clenched around his cock as the new angle had him hitting the gummy spot inside you with each thrust.

Your hands found a home on his wrist that rested between your thighs and in his hair as your orgasm approached faster and faster. “Bucky, I’m-” you felt a new wave of slick pool causing Bucky to move even easier inside of you.

And then your mouth dropped as Bucky’s fingers tightened their grip around your neck and his metal fingers stopped rubbing your clit to his strokes. You clenched around his length and felt him twitch inside of you before groaning as he found his release. Rope after rope of his cum painted your walls white as you whined, not reaching your own orgasm with him.

“Aw, you really think I’m gonna let you cum, huh?” He cooed down at you, faking sincerity as he filled you up. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking before pulling out and placing your panties back in place. “Only good girls cum, Bunny.”

You were still in a state of shock as you faced him. And you were right, Bucky smirked as he met your eyes. His hands ran through his hair, fixing it from when you were clutching on to it. “Bucky!” You said his name in frustration, you could feel the mess between your thighs as he fixed his slacks unphased.

“I told you; I would help remind you that you’re mine.” He hummed and fixed his cuff links. “And if you behave, I’ll reward you later.” And then he was slipping out of the room, returning back to the exhibit, leaving you flustered and needing more.

#assembletheimagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #idk why I struggled to write this #and I am struggling to think coherently lmao #but hope that's okay #if im wrong let me know so I can make another haha

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faemytho · 8 months

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I saw that your requests were open and saw the prompts and now I can't restrain myself

May I request Misc#6 "Is it so wrong if I still like you?" OR "I just can't believe you would still want to be around me after everything I did!" With AbyssEel?

word count: 1,559

im absolutely INSANE about these two rn, writing chiaroscuro only does so much to eat the brainrot LOL.

eel uses he/they, abyss monarch uses they/them, and anglerfish uses they/them! there's no gender in the deep sea lmao. this can be read as romantic, queerplatonic, platonic, whatever.

(>AO3<) | (>SqWA<)

Before Ink Cloak had come to Wandercrab, the denizens of the deep knew of Abyss Monarch. The one who had conquered the Squid Ink monster without breaking a sweat, they were the most powerful of the deep-sea monsters and thus, their ruler. They had not spoken once to anyone. Rarely ever did one encounter them and live to tell the tale, but those who did spoke of all-encompassing darkness, the gaze of several darkened eyes, of an uncontrollably wild, yawning, hungry chasm.

The title of Abyss Monarch, the ruler of the deep, was bestowed upon them in hushed whispers. It was in the suddenly lowered murmurs of those who were afraid the monster of the deep would hear and come to strike them down, tale after tale passed around from ear to ear.

Electric Eel knew of the Abyss Monarch. He'd never expected to actually meet them. Not if he could help it.

"So, should I call you Abyss Monarch now," he said over a glass of juice, sitting at the dim and damaged remnants of Choco Flounder's bar, "or is Ink Cloak your real name?"

Ink Cloak, the Abyss Monarch, gave him a flat look. They were also seated at the bar, a chipped cup of juice cradled in both their hands. Their spiked tentacles, colored with ethereal green and darkness, writhed slowly around the legs of the stool they sat in.

"I don't care," Ink Cloak said. The spines that flared out from their neck twitched, a rippling movement of skin and fins. They lifted the chipped cup to their mouth, and spoke into it. "Call me what you like."

"Okay," Eel said, feeling as though that wasn't really an answer to the question they'd asked. "I think... I might just call you Ink Cloak, then."

The Abyss Monarch gave a noncommittal hum into their juice. Through the crumbled wall of Choco Flounder's bar, Anglerfish was directing a few of Wandercrab's residents to clear out the trash in the streets. Most of it was crumbled and broken debris from Wandercrab itself, after it had faced the disastrous eruption that the Abyss Monarch had stopped.

"Why did you really ask me to stay?" Ink Cloak said, and Eel looked back at them. Their fingers were tight around the cup they held. They were looking straight down into their juice, as though it might tell them all the answers to all the questions they asked. "Wandercrab is in ruin because of me."

"And?"

Ink Cloak's gaze snapped up, and Eel understood in an instant what the stories meant about the dark, hungry chasm in the Abyss Monarch's gaze. It crawled over his dough, and he shoved down a shiver.

"You saved Wandercrab from being destroyed completely," Eel said, setting their glass of juice down on the bar with a carefree laugh. "And everyone's safe! I'll take a little bit of ruin over complete destruction."

Ink Cloak blinked, and the gaze of the Abyss Monarch was gone. They turned their face down towards the bar again. "A 'little bit'," they murmured, huffing out a dry laugh. "The fact still remains. As does my question. Why did you really ask me to stay?"

Electric Eel stayed silent for a long moment, tail twitching slowly behind him. He knew why he'd asked them to stay, but it was hard to find the words to explain.

"Because," he said after a moment, slow and careful, "I care about you. And I didn't want you to be alone."

Ink Cloak let out a tired, raspy sigh, lifting a hand to pinch their brow. "Anglerfish is right," they muttered after a moment, not looking at Eel as they lifted their cup of juice to their lips once more. "You're going to get yourself killed if you go around acting like that."

"Acting like what?" Eel narrowed their gaze, electricity crackling softly over their knuckles. The dim light bulb in the destroyed bar flared a little brighter. "Like I care about you? Because I do."

The Abyss Monarch growled, and a crack appeared in the chipped cup. Juice trickled down from it, droplet by droplet, and they lowered it to the bar. "I just don't understand why in the Sea you would want to be around me," they hissed, staring down at the bar as if that could crack it as easily as they had the cup, "after everything I've done. Everything I am. I'm a monster, Electric Eel."

"And even knowing all that," Eel argued, "is it really so wrong if I still like you? If I still want to be around you?"

"YES."

The chipped cup shattered, and the Abyss Monarch slammed their hands on the bar as they stood, their stool clattering and falling backwards onto the floor. The light bulb winked out, and a ripple of darkness emanated throughout the bar.

Eel had flinched back, not out of fear, but of surprise. It didn't seem to matter much to the Abyss Monarch, who recoiled into themself at seeing Eel's reaction.

"... Yes," the Abyss Monarch said softly, tentacles curling around their feet, hugging their arms to themself, "it is so wrong. I could hurt you. I could kill you, and I don't understand why that does not bother you."

Electric Eel said nothing for a moment, relaxing back into their seat. He looked up at the light bulb, tapping his fingers against the bar, electricity crackling over his hand. It flickered, and then glowed back to life.

"Do you want to?" he asked, looking at them. The light bulb flickered overhead, but Eel didn't look away.

"What-?" Ink Cloak stammered, distraught and lost for words. "Why would-? No, of course not."

"Then you won't," Eel said simply. He shrugged, grabbing his glass of juice with a smile. "I trust you. So what if you're the Abyss Monarch? You saved my life once. You saved Wandercrab from being completely destroyed. You saved everybody here."

Eel turned halfway in their stool, leaning back against the bar and glancing out at the people of Wandercrab. They worked to clear the trash from the streets, Anglerfish's rough directions and raspy laughter met with shouts and laughter of their own.

"You can be bad," Eel said, looking down at their glass and swirling the juice inside, "or you can be good. You keep insisting that you're bad, but from everything I've seen you do, you've always chosen to be good."

"You don't know everything I've done," the Abyss Monarch said, and their voice cracked, wavering. "You don't know-"

"I don't need to know." Eel looked back at them, eyes flashing, electricity crackling down his arms. He smiled, sharp and easy. "Your past doesn't matter in Wandercrab. The only thing that matters is who you choose to be right now. And you, Ink Cloak, are one of the kindest beings I've ever met. Why do you think Anglerfish turned around about the Abyss Monarch so easily?"

"Fuck if I know," Ink Cloak muttered, but they had relaxed, tension bleeding out of them. "That grumpy old cookie is an enigma to me."

Electric Eel laughed, bright and happy, lifting his glass in a motion like a cheer. "As grumpy as they are," Eel agreed, taking a sip of their juice, "they still know a good cookie from a bad one. Because for every bad thing we all ever heard about the Abyss Monarch, there was something good Ink Cloak had done for us. And that matters more to us than rumors and reputation."

There was silence in the bar for a moment, as Eel looked out at the people of Wandercrab and away from Ink Cloak. Even in the destruction, they still smiled and laughed and joked around with each other. Even in this destruction, Choco Flounder was still willing to set up glasses of juice for anyone who wanted one. Even in all this, Eel could find a reason to smile, and the oppressing presence of darkness slowly disappeared behind him.

"Octopus," Ink Cloak muttered after a long moment, stooping down to grab the stool they'd knocked over and setting it upright. Eel turned to look at them, ear fins flicking, tail twitching. They sat down at the bar again, closer to him, but not looking at him. "That was my name. Octopus Cookie."

"Is it your name now?" Eel asked, turning his gaze on the other cookie, still lounging back in his stool against the bar.

Ink Cloak thought about that for a moment.

"No," they said, before meeting Eel's gaze. "I suppose not."

"Then, if it's okay," Electric Eel said, tail curling and fins twitching, "I think I'd rather call you by the name you chose for yourself."

Ink Cloak gave a small noise that might have been a huff of laughter. "You're too kind for your own good," they muttered, and Eel shrugged, smiling.

"No such thing. And I'll continue to be kind," he said with a happy laugh. "Because I'd rather be kind than be cruel."

The light bulb overhead flickered, but it didn't go out. "... I hope Choco Flounder isn't too upset with me for breaking that cup," Ink Cloak muttered, and Eel burst out laughing.

"You know what?" Electric Eel said, setting his glass of juice down and giving a bright, happy grin. The light bulb flared brighter. "I think we'll be alright."

#abysseel #abyss monarch cookie #electric eel cookie #cookie run fanfic #cookie run #mae writes cookies #my writing

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borzoilover69 · 1 year

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YOOOOOO whenever i see your meta posts or analysis or posts i go fucking wild. Youare like Tomatograter's type of successor u just rose from the deep darks of the fandom and decided it was ur turn . i mean this, of course, in a psotiive way

I love your writing so much, you get their points so right and also you feed the pumpkin patch fandom very well and we really appreciate it, sheesh!!!!!

i would love to say more about how i love ur thinking but thats the thing, cant put it in words!!!

since im here already, i was wondering, do you think they would ever marry ? (and/or divorce lmao)

Thankyou!!! I had to sit down for a moment.. being compared to such a legend.. *shakes my head* my ego has been stroked, the fire is blazing, and ten children have died in the blaze.

At least i hope i am. I'm touched, i just suddenly appeared and started talking and all you funny people crawled out of the woodworks and started following me like little pikmin. That's a funny image in my head. Ok i took a break to draw it out and it is funny. It is really funny haha.

Tbh i just talk a lot to myself and i decided to put it somewhere other than the walls of my own room for once and captchalogue the lot because i talk a lot. To myself. Most of the time i look back and i think to myself "what was even the point i didnt even make a conclusion im going to fail my english major" but then i remember im not in school anymore so teachers can shove it.

I love dirkjake i'm actually pretty insane about it but i think that's obvious. I'm one snickers away from insane posting about them conciously and only the influx of voices i get about it staves me from putting it on my keyboard. I so get the feeling of not being able to put it in words. But anyways I've talked enough and i drew all of you guys as pikmin so as i was saying.

The only marriage i can see for Dirkjake is either one where they buy rings and then have icecream in 7/11 and then immediately forget about it until sometime they laugh about how they had that nonlegal marriage that one time. Maybe an exchange of vows but they really don't seem like wedding guys. The other option is one where one of them tricks the other into signing marriage nuptials which is really funny to me.

HOWEVER WITH THAT IN MIND. Im a BIG fan of them divorcing as many times per their whims. I think it should be a fucking bit. Like the divorce office has an entire department because they're like regulars at a goddamn bar they can't stop divorcing each other. Addiction is a terrible thing.

dirk texts roxy "Jake and I are eloping to the Bahamas." and then approximately ten minutes later "Jake and I are getting divorced in the Bahamas."

the way their friends know theyve divorced again is when dirk starts posting grindr screenshots making fun of the ppl he talks to on there. He has a priv account and he meets trashy guys and posts their credit card info on his priv for jane and roxy to freely use.

jane and roxy are out for brunch and jane gets a message asking about commissioning a cake and jane excitedly opens it, then loudly sighs and puts her phone screen-down on the table and roxy goes "divorce again?" and jane says "divorce again."

every time they get a cake from jane they ask her to write some funny joke about divorce on it but eventually she starts writing "get your shit together" instead.

jake says something kinda stupid and dirk says "i want a divorce" and everyone in the room laughs but dirk is dead fucking serious.

They're this one video from danny gonzalez. Holy shit do i have so much to say about divorce. Take a photo of me and my boyfriend.

#asks #dirkjake #dirk strider #jake english #homestuck #homestuck meta #oh boy this is a long one #im funny i swear #borzoi talks #borzoi meta

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trashlie · 8 months

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ILY FP 237

Wanna know something that feels insane? I went to go reread 151 for yknow, reasons, lmao and I noticed it came out September 30, 2021.

/2021/!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT'S BEEN 2 YEARS SINCE THAT EPISODE DROPPED?! NO WONDER WE CAN'T BE NORMAL ABOUT ANYTHING!!!!! NO WONDER WE'RE ALL AS FERAL AS SHINAE AND CLIMBING WALLS AND CHEWING THROUGH OUR KEYBOARDS. I can't get my head around this lmao TWO WHOLE YEARS?! What the HECK?! This has been WILD!!!!!!!

Anyway, I kind of wish you guys could have seen me immediately after reading this episode because I swear it felt like I went through the five stages of like, grief or something, for reasons I'll get to lmao like, my friends and i live blog at each other as we read and it was just a wall of screaming cat emotes sent over and over and DREAD and STRESS and some kind of dramatic chaos and calamity before we got it out of our systems and were like "okay i can be normal* about this now

*as normal as possible all things considered lmao

Anyway. AN EPISODE AIN'T IT? Let's go

I had fantasized a lot about how I waned Dieter and Nol's conversation to go, and as always, I was not entirely on the mark. That's why I'm not the one writing ILY XD But regardless, I love what we got, and we got things that I did NOT expect at all!

There's something about how it starts off with that sort of.... "we're pretending everything is normal and that you didn't totally oversee me making moves on the girl you like while i thought you were sleeping and you don't even know why I came back after blocking all of you let's definitely make visitation plans" that is so funny to me, even though that's absolutely how I expected it to go. Dieter is the master of playing it cool, much to his own detriment, but it works in this case, because Nol is so very like a feral cat, isn't he?

I'm actually really glad that we touched on the topic of visitation because I was SO CERTAIN Nol wouldn't want them to visit him, wouldn't want to be seen like that, wouldn't want to be reminded of their lives going on while he's stuck behind bars for a crime he didn't commit. And Dieter is not that subtle with the way he goes down the list of the potential visitors Nol can have - not that there's, yknow.... many..... lol but we all know what he's getting at, carefully hedging the important matters at hand. "It would make you happy if she visited you, too... right?"

Something so funny about my agitation at the end of this episode was that I so badly wanted to comment on how Nol's reaction to Dieter winning the game reminded me SO MUCH of the expressions Shinae makes lol I don't know if that's just a result of quimchee's artstyle or just one of those many things they have in common, but it makes me laugh a lot.

Dieter possesses a rather straight forward nature that I'm so envious of. I'm the kind of person who struggles to bring up things that I need to talk to friends about, too burned by past experiences that didn't go well that I still get worried that addressing important topics with my friends will go south even though I know better, so I beat around the bush, I hem and haw. But Dieter is SO direct with Nol, even as Nol tries to deflect, even as he attempts to bush it off. It's so admirable! Especially while Nol is being.... well. Nol lmao

I CANNOT believe that he really went nine-year-old on the playground being accused of liking a girl like. He LITERALLY went BLEH why would I even HURL alkfjkafjafjkafkjafjk MY GUY?! ALKFKAFJAKFKAJFKJ?1 He is akjffakfj a MENACE truly related to Nana!!!!!!!!!

I think this must be the most open and honest Nol has ever been with Dieter. When you think about it, Dieter really is the one friend who has been the most "on the outside" of Nol's life, he has only known Yeonggi, and it wasn't for malicious reasons. That's all the stuff Nol dislikes about his life, that he tries to neatly compartmentalize. Up until recently, he was able to do so. Kousuke was off his back, he was more or less free. Everything changed when Rand went out of country and Kousuke had Nol helping out at the office. Dieter had no reason to really know much more about Kousuke and Nol's relationship because Soushi joining their group meant Kousuke wasn't around as often, and we saw that they both were able to thrive (as well as possible) outside of the way of each other.

So for Nol to open up enough to tell him that he doesn't really make friends, despite how it looks. That most people don't really seem to like him, that he doesn't like his peers or his family, that they are really the only people he has let into his life is big. There's so much Dieter still doesn't know about him, but baby steps. You can't just dump all of that, even if he was ready to.

And in him saying this, to some degree I understand. After all, all this while Nol wasn't even aware of those feelings, of what she meant. I think there were moments - like at the formal when he made her laugh - but it wasn't anything like when he had his head rest upon her shoulder, feeling at peace despite his injuries, feeling calm despite the location, feeling like he could fall asleep and learned that it had nothing to do with medication that made him realize it. So on the one hand I DO get his logic, because what if he IS misplacing this feeling, what if he IS wrong, what if he's making something out of nothing?

But I'm sure on another level he knows better, because he knows what Dieter saw, because he was acting on what he felt.

I think Nol has never had feelings for anyone, because he has nothing to compare this to. He said he "tried to make it work" with Alyssa, but there's a sense that he was never actually into her, that there weren't actually any feelings there and they never grew as time went on. And now that he feels these unfamiliar things for Shinae, how is he to know?

What's really funny is that this is the same tactic as Shinae, but in reverse. When she told him we're all friends and he adamantly told her no, because he knows better, because it wasn't platonic, because their kind of friend is so different from how she's friends with Dieter. And even though he's the one who knows his feeling and suspects hers, he still tries the same logic she used: that anyone else could be in her position and maybe he'd still feel the same, that maybe it's just because he's so starved for kindness that he's responding to that.

Again, we know better, but it's so funny to me that she literally tried to use the logic that all friendships are different but also she could put anyone else in his place and it would be the same.

Please. I need them to stop kidding themselves lmaoooooo

For Nol's sake, though, he needs it to be a thing that will pass, because in his mind not only does he endanger Shinae by caring about her, but he also betrays his friend, only further hurts him, and given that Nol's whole deal is that he tries to rebalance the bad he brings into the world by making up for it with good, he's really doing a terrible job.

Unfortunately for Nol, feelings don't work like that and logic can't control them. He can tell himself it might be a thing that can pass, that it might be something that he'd get over, but that doesn't change Shinae's feelings, and the fact that she clearly likes him, not Dieter. It would be so much easier for Nol if Dieter actually treated it like a betrayal, if he was mad at him, if he felt like Nol had wronged him. He wants him to be angry, because he can at least use Dieter's anger and pain as a reason to step back, because god knows Nol himself does not have the will power to do it on his own. If he can say "Acting on my feelings is hurting my friendship with Dieter" he could have a concrete reason to ignore them, because it's not worth losing his friendship.

But that's not who Dieter is. He isn't giving him that kind of excuse.

We can see, too, just how important those friendships are to Nol, that hurting Dieter would be reason enough to drop his feelings! Because these are the only friends he has. The only people who have made him feel like he has value. Made him feel not like nothing but something. A somebody. Special. That's not something worth throwing away, which is ironically what gets him into this problem. These people made him feel special, and he came to care about them as they care about him, and in his mind this has endangered them all, and it's more than enough reason to hold them at arms' length, to smother his feelings and hope they'll die out like cold embers, hope that if he doesn't fans the flames or add new wood, it will go cold.

I really feel for Dieter having this conversation because honestly, it can't be easy. Even though he's holding himself together, we know that it still hurts. His expression with his eyes closed when he mentions how he's seen the way Shinae cries for him... agonizing! He's seen it multiple times now! He's always the one who picks up her pieces and gives her comfort, even though it hurts him to do, even though he knows why she's crying. It wasn't just what he saw that morning when they thought he was asleep - he's been watching this all along, from the beginning, always consciously comparing himself to the people in her life and how she interacts with them. Even as a friend, he doesn't have what she has with Minhyuk or Nol. Dieter knew all along what he was getting into, knew all along the way they interact, the way they gravitate towards each other, and he couldn't help but hope he might have that, too. That with enough time they could be like that. All this morning did was show him that he was never going to have that with her, that he never really stood a chance. ;~; But he tried! It's more than Nol can say right now....

Nol's agitation is such a BIG deal! Again, Dieter has never really known Nol. Yeonggi wasn't like this! Yeonggi didn't have this energy, that feral cat energy, that edge! His shock in response to how Nol responds shows that much - because to him this isn't a big deal, if he likes her then he likes her and he just wanted Nol to know that he won't hold it against him. But there is just so much Dieter doesn't know! He can't understand at this point why Nol is so emotional about it, why he seems so agitated and upset, why he's insisting it will never happen. Seeing those emotions on his face!!! The way Dieter goes from startled to defensive to concerned.

"If you don't like seeing her hurt, it's in your best interest to keep her away from me."

That sounds so threatening! He's the only one who is hurting Shinae, what Nol is saying can't possibly make any sense to Dieter.

He doesn't know about the formal.

He doesn't know about Shinae getting tricked by Yui, how she was coerced to attend that harrowing formal in order to protect someone who it turned out didn't need protecting.

He doesn't know about the fall from the pool and how she hit her head and was in the hospital when she should have been at home getting a good night's sleep the night before her college entrance exams.

He doesn't know about the contract she's locked into.

About the roofies, about Sangchul.

About how Shinae could have been assaulted, or how she could have died.

This is the most honest Nol has probably ever been with Dieter, with anyone but Shinae at this point, frankly, and unfortunately Dieter doesn't know anything, can't understand, but what he can see is that Nol means it. The fear on his face! He looks so childlike in how distressed and afraid he is!

When we really think about it, in Nol's eyes, it is about him. That he is a blight, a mistake who was never supposed to exist. That what happened to his mom was because of him, because he exists. Because he didn't treat her well. What happened to Shinae is because he took interest in her, because she meant something to him, and that wasn't acceptable. He believes harm comes to those he cares about, but in his view that's the extent of it. It's not that Yui is a monster, it's that she's a monster to him.

He doesn't have our objective knowledge. He doesn't know that Kousuke has been drugged and manipulated his whole life, that she drove that wedge between him and his father. He doesn't know that Yui invited Shinae to Kousuke's apartment and treated her inappropriately, tried to undress her, put her in Kousuke's clothes. Does he even really understand how Shinae wound up at the formal? That it wasn't about him at all - that Shinae was convinced Kousuke did something wrong by giving her a job she didn't deserve, that she had to attend the formal to "protect his job".

So to him, it's just because it's him. Because he cares. Because he is a mistake and doesn't deserve any of this, and that they are punished for him not knowing his place. His worries extend to Dieter and Soushi as well, because they are also people he cares about, and maybe the universe will harm them, too, to remind him of his place.

He doesn't know what he has to protect them from, just that he must.

One of these days, we are going to get flashbacks of what happened when Nol was taken away to Hirahara Memorial, and I'm not ready. The way he looks so small and childlike sitting there in his bed with all of his fear and distress, all of these feelings so knotted up inside. What did they do to him when he was in there? What did they say to him, that made him so deeply internalize this belief? Almost two years of being broken down, being convinced that the things that happen to those you care about are the direct result of you caring of your existence. And that's the most frustrating part about it - it's so deeply ingrained, so intricately woven into his psyche that he can't just change his way of thinking. It's going to be so difficult to undo that thinking!

Not that this is really new to us but, just getting to really mull over this is so heartbreaking. Nol is so terrified of losing her, that he's willing to lose her to protect her. He'd rather not have her at all if it will keep her safe, if it will protect her from harm, even though it's so clear that he wants the opposite. He cares so much and it makes him so very afraid. How does he live like that?! That constant battle of wanting vs what he fears, how he let them into his life and broke his rules and in his mind this has put them in danger.

"If you don't like seeing her hurt, it's in your best interest to keep her away from me!"

He really would rather be the one that hurts her to protect her than to take any chances and it just makes me feel SO EMOTIONAL. ;A; OKAY. Because what can you even do to help him? He is so..... I don't like it when people say the word broken, because it often feels low-key like they mean someone is too traumatized to ever be "repaired" but when I say Nol is so broken, I mean that he has been put in situations that have damaged his self-view, that have damaged his psyche, that have altered the way he thinks and feels to such a degree that he is sitting here willing to hurt people in order to protect them, because he lives in this constant fear of unknown that he cannot predict. They took this vulnerable kid and put him through absolute HELL, they broke him and then they refused to put the pieces back together.

I hope that Dieter will talk to someone about it. Is it something he can talk about with Shinae? Can he pull together any clues? He's our most observant character, but does he know enough to start to grasp this very real fear that has gripped Nol? He was there at the arcade when Kousuke and Yui came to pick up Nol, when he reacted strangely to her being there, when he slapped away Kousuke's hand. Is that something that he'd remember, think is worth pursuing? And even if so, what can come of it? He looks genuinely worried and concerned, though, and I hope that something will be able to come of it, because I think even if he can't understand what Nol fears, he at least knows that to him it's very real.

Soushi's timing with the jello just.... KILLED me. KILLED ME what a time to interrupt ;______; How do you get back to that conversation?! And especially with Kousuke there now, it's effectively over. It just!!! LKFAFKJAJFKAKJFAJKFKJAF KLJAFKJAF AKJFKAJFKAFJKAF IT KILLS ME OKAY AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGH

And while I know very well that Kousuke is there with good intentions, that he looks so haunted standing in the hallway waiting for Nol, I can't help but feel a heavy curtain of foreboding coming down, because Kousuke comes in like an omen. Because things go bad when he shows up, even when he's not the one trying to stir things up. And frankly, I don't look forward to this, because I know whatever is going to go down is going to hurt! There's something so..... I guess bitter about Kousuke's very too little too late moment, how he has struggled all these years with how badly he wants Rand's love, how much he fears not being good enough, how terrified he was that Nol could have it and replace him, the guilt for destroying a young child who was never a real threat to him (even though Yui absolutely made him out as a real threat in Kousuke's mind). It's like... knowing that Kousuke is starting to unlock this, is starting to see the insidious underbelly, while knowing it's too late. Nol has wiped his hands of him. He literally nearly died as a result of what happened the night before and even if Kousuke is coming to reach out to him, or to confirm something, Nol has no reason to entertain him, to hep him.

I feel like we are very much seeing that table turn, the role reversal. We're going to watch Kousuke fall apart, trying his best to hold himself together, with no one to turn to, no one he can actually trust, his paranoia eating him alive. It's not that I think anything heavy is going to go down as much as.... maybe we're going to watch Kousuke reach out to him, whether for help or to acknowledge something - that Nol, too, was drugged, that this must be why he hates tea so much, that so many times he ignored Nol's pleas for help - and Nol is probably going to reiterate how very done with him he is, that he wants nothing to do with him or this family any more, that he is done with them and what they've done to him. And just. AUGH ALKJAFKJJKFJKAF IT KILLS ME I'M SO EMOTIONAL I'M SO DISTRESSED BECAUSE WE KNOW WHY KOUSUKE WAS LIKE THAT WE KNOW HOW HE WAS MANIPULATED, HOW THE DRUGGING WAS USED TO ALTER HIS MEMORIES AND HOW HE RECALLED EVENTS HOW HE BELIEVES IN THIS FICTITIOUS VERSION OF NOL WHO WAS FORMED BY YUI'S WORDS AND IT KILLS ME BECAUSE NOL IS SO WELL WITHIN HIS RIGHT AND I JUST. TRAAAAAAGIIIIIIIIIIIIC SIIIIIIIIIBLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIINNNNGSSSSSSSSS ;A;

And things just always go south when Kousuke comes around. He puts Nol in a worse mood, he starts to act out more. We literally watched this kid jump off a fucking balcony into a pool below and revisit the last time he was at the bottom of a pool, contemplating never returning to the surface! THINGS NEVER GO WELL WHEN KOUSUKE IS INVOLVED AND I'M NERVOUS AND SCARED AND I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ;A;

At this point, I feel like everything really is up to Shinae at this point, because Nol is back to trying to rebuild his walls and put them up as high as he can, so ready to try to ignore these feelings, to play them off, to tell her that it probably means nothing, that he must just be acting this way because she's been nice when no one else has and if it was anyone else he'd probably feel the same way and GOD I am ready for her to go off on him. He all but told her to leave and come back when you know why you're fighting so hard for me, but I don't think he's actually PREPARED for her going back knowing her feelings, knowing what she wants.

Until now, there's always been a disadvantage between Shinae and Nol in their relationship, where he is always the one with the leg up, the one who knows more, the one who is making moves, the one who is in control of things. But I think we're going to see that change, based on her very feral way of fighting her feelings, how she was about to try to break down his door in order to continue their conversation, how agitated she is by the thought of him throwing her away.

It really does come down to her pure determination, and I'm fully expecting her to go in there and get into an argument with him lmao and frankly, I welcome it. I think that's the only way they're going to get anywhere. There's so many things they need to talk about, they need a heart to heart DESPERATELY but I don't think we're going to lead with it. I go back and forth on how I expect her to go, because she was SO READY to go back in and demand her things back "if I can't have you" (SCREAMING STILL) but now that she knows her feelings... will she? I hope she will, still. Because now it's almost worse, right? That he's taken all these things from her AND he still has a girlfriend AND he now has her heart? HOW IS THAT FAIR, GIVE IT BACK, GIVE BACK EVERYTHING!

I want them to argue because I think they're both a little more honest when they aren't thinking about what they're saying, when they let the hotheaded energy take over and words come out. Nol is probably going to play the "this probably doesn't even mean anything" game, the "this will probably pass and we'll both move on" game, the "maybe i'm just a selfish asshole friend and none of this means anything" game and Shinae is too hardheaded to let that slide.

I want her jealousy and insecurity to come out when Nol tries to shield himself with “I have a girlfriend” and I want her to remind him he said it was fake and he resents her. I want her to look him in the eye and ask if he can really throw it all away, if he wouldn’t have any regrets if he gave up and left her. I want him to fail to answer and instead tell her that maybe he can, who knows, maybe none of this is really real. And I want her to kiss him and prove to him how very real it is, how very much they both want it, and how very much they need each other.

And when she pulls away he can lean in, following her, pulling her back in, his brain off because god knows the moment her mouth touches his it's all over, he's melting, his resolve is crumbling and he's going all in, pulling her against him fingers in her hair mouth crashing back on hers so hungry so touch-starved so full of want.

They can talk about everything else once she's convinced him this isn't so fleeting. She can remind him what she already said, that she deserves a choice in this matter, that leaving doesn't change anything because she still works for the company she's still under contract and now there's more she can tell him - how Yui made her an offer that would essentially tether her to them, how Rand told her to take it that he says Yui will never let her go. That it was not about him that Yui is a witch, tell him about Kousuke's birthday, tell him about the way she got tricked, tell him about the things she tried to do to her.

I've already acknowledged that nothing can undo the years of damage that was done to Nol in the hospital and through years of abuse, but I think Shinae can, at the very least, make him see that she very much is just as trapped, that she's worse off if he leaves, that together they are so much stronger, that they don't have to endure this alone. He can tell her how scared he is and she can stroke his hair and reassure him the best she can that he's allowed to be scared in front of her that she feels scared, too, but maybe she's more afraid of losing someone who means so much to her, who is literally the reason she's gotten through everything she did. That maybe he thinks he's a monster but she's something else in him, that he is the sole reason she could endure that harrowing night.

I WANT THEM TO HAVE AN HONEST HEART TO HEART SO BADLY. I feel like we MUST be going that direction. There's been too much build up not to. As Lil Anon put it, ILY has never been quick to reward, and we must go through the ups and downs to get there. We've had this moment dangled in front of us for so long but we're not getting it easy. But we can see it in the narrative - the emphasis on their mutually realized feelings, that Nol was given that 3 day extension that leads so close to Christmas, the emphasis on her mouth, that these feelings happened before he went to jail. If there wasn't going to be a resolution, NONE of this would have needed to happen, especially not the 3 day extension. Quimchee is absolutely drawing this out - and not even in the "putting up pointless obstacles just to draw it out" kind of way but in the "you are going to be so satisfied when we get there" kind of way lol. It's just so easy to get spooked because that's what the writing is doing! That's tension, baby.

Hopeful optimism is always my downfall lmao but I just feel like we ARE going to have that resolution, that even if there's no relationship at this time, they will know where they stand, that she can convince him not to push her away, that they are too important to give each other up. Whatever he's afraid of, they can brave it together! I WANT IT AND I FEEL LIKE IT'S SO CLOSE OKAY AND I'MA FLKJAFLKJAF AFLKJAFLKJAFKLA FLKJAFLAKJFLKAFJLAFKAFKLAFJAFKJFKAA

We were given two small asides about Nol's phone and the Bible, and I wonder if we'll be seeing those play out the 22nd. The phone is obviously coming in Kousuke's visit next week, but I wonder: does it even work anymore after everything that happened? It was still working after the pool fall, which feels like a miracle, but after falling from the second floor, after getting slammed around in the snow, now covered in blood, will it still be able to turn back on?! lmao I'm not sure what to make yet of Alyssa's messages left hanging like that, especially after walking "into the light" with Gun. There's the fact that she's off to some schedule, so could there be a chance for those dating rumors to come up that she has to strike down? On the one hand, they feel like they could be left hanging, which kind of feels so symbolic of their whole relationship lmao but. IDK!!!! At the very least it probably needs a charge LMAO but idk idk this is the area I get murky because I think it can go so many ways. I don't think Nol has any intention of breaking up with her at this time, especially because he'll probably try to use it as a shield against Shinae, but.... I've always felt the break up would come from her due to dating rumors. Especially because of how bad his reputation is at this point (violence, roofies which makes it sound like he sexually assaults people) it would be EASY for Alyssa's agency to spin it and make it sound like indeed, she does not have a relationship with him and in fact he has frightened her or something. They were even in public at the Christmas party arguing even on the dance floor, before what happened later so. Idk SOMETHING will come of that, I'm sure.

But I'm also hoping referencing the Bible means that maybe he will find it when everyone else has left and he's bored - especially if his phone won't turn on - and take a look at the letters Shinae mentioned, since he only thought there was the one.

This is really important to me, because I need Nol so badly to see how he stands in the same place his father did. I want him to be able to better understand his parents - how his mom stayed clinging to a married man who she could not really be with, how she uprooted her child and herself to move closer to him. How she tried over and over to be there for him, to try to support him, and Rand didn't allow it. How unlike Rand, Nol has less to lose. He isn't married, he doesn't have a child, a family. He doesn't NEED to stay in a relationship that will only suffocate him, that will turn him into a hollow husk of a man like Rand did. I NEED him to realize that he is on a fast track of following in his father's footsteps, in becoming this empty meaningless man.

I want him to see how Rand's feelings for Nessa never went away. Even after she died, he still carried her around in that Bible. In her letters, in the photograph of Nol. He carried her around because he never got over her. And is Nol prepared to live that way?

This is also why I'm perfectly fine with Nol and Shinae kissing before he and Alyssa break up, because I think it would help him better understand his parents - how Rand had a duty to his marriage, but he fell in love with someone who actually meant something, and how she was the love of his life that he never got over. To understand how his mom could be with someone who was married. For him to understand that feelings are NOT logical, that you can't really control them. He never meant to develop feelings for the girl his friend likes - but it still happened.

Maybe if Nol can understand them, it will help him forgive them a little, give him a tiny bit of peace. And hopefully help him to make the right decision, to accept the love people give him, and to face his fears together with them.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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latenightsimping · 10 months

Text

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

Chapter warnings: angst, hurt (no comfort), bittersweet feelings, it's a difficult one ngl but I'll make it better I swear lmao, reader is described as having scars but no specifics, story tags still apply

AN: Ayy another chapter done. I'll try and find time to keep updating, but bear with me as I switch between this, other oneshots, and my own personal work. To those who follow along, thank you. This is such a passion project, and I'm loving the story so far.

October, 1984

It all still feels like one horrific nightmare. You’ve still got blood in your hair, staining your skin, with no idea who it belonged to. For a while, the pain had vanished, as you clawed your way to a nearby road. Perhaps a leftover survival mechanism passed down the generations. But now, now you couldn’t ignore the agony that your wounds created. The gashes that would forever disfigure you, a reminder that would become apparent every time you looked in the mirror. For now, covered with clean white bandages. You had no idea what it looked like beneath them, and you weren’t ready to look anyway.

Everyone had looked at you with such vitriol that made you want to wither into nothing. The doctors and nurses were doing the absolute bare minimum for your care, giving you minimal pain meds and spending as least time with you as humanly possible. The steel handcuffs that clasped your wrist and secured you to the hospital bed were starting to chafe, but you knew better than to say anything. Not like anybody would care, or even do anything about it. You knew the police officer that sat outside your door from high school, someone that had graduated when you were a sophomore. Harmon, you think his last name was. Either way, he hadn’t said anything to you yet. Not even made an appearance, just sitting himself down and reading the newspaper. You couldn’t see it, but you wondered if your name was in the news yet. Unlikely, considering everything had only happened a couple of hours ago. You prayed for it never to happen, but it was unlikely anyone up there was listening anyway.

Someone came through the door and stopped by the end of your bed, a small notebook in one hand and pen in the other. Horned rimmed glasses framed eyes that bore into you, a squint that conveyed the disgust he had for you. He was dressed in a police uniform, the Hawkins P.D badge on his chest slightly glinting under the fluorescent lights. Callahan, the name badge opposite it said. You’d seen him around town, but had never crossed paths with him until tonight.

He said your name with a tone that told you he’d rather be anywhere else than here. You nodded in affirmation, as he looked down at the notepad, pen tapping against the pages.

“Wild night you’ve had,” he drawled, a slight sneer as he shook his head. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

For a moment, you said nothing. How could you possibly begin to explain it all? It was all such a blur, time doubling in rate with no hope of slowing. Your gaze lowered to the thin blanket that covered you, free hand picking at the off white fibres. “I don’t know.” Your voice was quiet, far away. You didn’t sound like yourself.

A scoff. “You expect me to believe that?”

Another pause. No, you didn’t. You expected absolutely nobody to believe you.

“We’ve found two bodies so far,” he continued. “Are we going to find any more?”

You shook your head. They’d found Cynthia and Scott. Cynthia was your friend since Kindergarten, your neighbour that you grew up with. Your best friend, who never judged you. Scott had started dating her when you were all sixteen, and you actually liked him. Thought he was good for her. Thought they’d end up the childhood sweethearts that actually stuck together through life; would get married, have 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Get a dog, and live a boring but fulfilling life.

Where had it all gone so wrong?

“Done any drugs tonight?” Callahan asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer, and way just testing you to see if you were going to lie about it.

“I uh, smoked some weed,” you admitted, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eye. You still felt fuzzy around the edges, but it was wearing off all too quickly. “Drank some beers.”

“Nothing else?” he asked you. “Hallucinogens, PCP, anything like that?”

“No.”

You swore you saw an eye roll, though his glance away was helping to conceal it. “We’re going to be testing your blood, you know. Easier to just admit everything now, rather than it coming up in court later. I’m tryna’ help you here.”

No, you aren’t, you wanted to say. You’ve decided I’m guilty. And you want to lock me up to rot.

You could barely remember the rest of the interview. A lot of “I don’t know,” and “I can’t remember.” You can remember being sent to the place that terrified you as a child, though. Family horror stories of a great Aunt who went in and never came back out. You remember crying every night for the first six months, only for nobody to comfort you. You remember having to clamp down on your emotions, to bury them deep and hope they never resurface.

You can’t remember your parents ever visiting you.

August, 1986

The sweltering heat of Indiana summers were finally starting to break, cooler air filtering through the iron bars of the gaps of the slightly opened windows of the dayrooms and cutting the thick scent of sweat and cleaning products. You and Eddie had engaged in small talk during the countless games of cards, and you’d learned quite a fair bit about him. You learned he liked pickles on his burgers. His favourite album was still up in the air, citing that “you just couldn’t do that, it’d be like admitting you have a favourite child.” His favourite colour was red and black, leading to a couple of hours of heated conversation about black being technically a shade, not a colour. He missed being able to play electric guitar, but there was something about the ward’s battered acoustic that he appreciated.

And in return, you’d shared the tiniest amounts that you hoped sated him. Safe little facts that couldn’t be used against you. And to his credit, he never pried. Instead, he did what he was best at. Talking enough for the both of you, when your social battery wasn’t at its fullest.

“I swear man, Miller’s got something going on at home,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes bounced between the project in his hand and the Doctor that seemed to be in the middle of an under-the-breath argument with an orderly on the other side of the dayroom door. Time had been allotted for arts and crafts, or rather, whatever shit they could throw in a box that could vaguely be suited for the occasion. Dried up glue and mangled pipe cleaners, a box of googly eyes that Eddie had pocketed for ‘later use’, and egg cartons that were probably older than you. But you’d found some lengths of different coloured string and a pair of the bluntest craft scissors known to mankind, and had decided on weaving them together to make bracelets. Eddie had decided to join in, and after a crash course in the most basic braids you knew, you were both winging it in trying to make something that wouldn’t just fall apart.

You looked up from the strands of black, red and white that you held in your hands to follow his eyeline, shaking your head as you spared a glance at the man opposite you. “She still givin’ you shit?”

You knew full well about the meetings he had with her, from the venting he always did afterwards. Apparently, medium security was a privilege, not a right. As if Eddie was capable of doing any harm with what little means he had in here. Fuck, you saw him shed a tear when you watched Bambi together not last week. It had only been a month, but you were absolutely positive of one thing, given you’d had enough time to make your own conclusions. Eddie wasn’t capable of his charges. Not for a second.

You expected him to frown at your question, but instead, a lopsided smirk played upon his lips. “Same as always, but nah. I’m talkin’ about what I overheard one of the nurses mention about her.”

You couldn’t help but snicker as you continued braiding. “Really, Munson? What’re you, a housewife at a damn Tupperware party?”

“Hey, I’d look fuckin’ fantastic in a pair of heels and a flouncy dress, thank you very much sweetheart,” he playfully chided, pointing at you with faux accusation and making you chuckle. “But seriously. Apparently, someone found a bottle of vodka stashed in the filing cabinets in the records room. And apparently, there’s only a handful of people that have access. She’s one of them.”

Finishing the last knot of the makeshift bracelet, you looked up to give Eddie your full attention. You had to admit, he was pretty. The long hair, full lips and rounded eyes were a given, yes. But it was the way that he looked at you, how much kindness he gave you, that sealed the deal. The way he would duck his head to make eye contact with you when your eyes felt glued to the floor. When you felt like all hope was lost, stuck in your own misery with no way out, a large hand would be felt on your shoulder, a slight touch that didn’t push your comfort levels. His shit jokes that cheered you up, and the fact that he seemed to know just what to say to make you feel better. In another life, you might have asked him on a date at one point. Maybe to get milkshakes, or to see a movie. But those ideas were bitterly shoved back down, when you remembered where you were. That’d never be an option. Not again.

You rolled your eyes as you leaned back in your chair, fiddling with the length of woven bracelet as you raised an eyebrow. “So you think she’s drinking on the job?” you asked, pulling the conversation back to something nonchalant. Before you had a chance to think of him in any way other than a friend.

“I think she’s doing a lot of things on the job, and caring for people ain’t one of them,” he muttered with a slight sneer. His demeanour seemed to change with the final touches of his own craft project, a triumphant look crossing his face as he held it between his fingers. “Here, gimme your arm.”

You shot him a look of confusion as you crossed your arms instead. “Why?”

“So I can yank it out of its socket and use it as an improvised weapon,” he drawled, sarcasm heavy on the words. “Just trust me, alright?”

You did trust him. Or at least, trusted him better than anyone in the whole building. “You’re a sick puppy, y’know that?” you chuckled, holding out your arm on the table.

“So I’ve been told,” he answered, tone ever so slightly taking on an edge of bitterness that you noted. Calloused fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, and it took everything within you not to shiver at the sensation. The softness averting your eyes to the window past his shoulder, your inner critic beating down whatever sticky feelings got caught in your ribs at a deep inhale. Get it the fuck together for Christ sake, he’s just-

“Aaaand done.” You looked back to see that lopsided grin of his, though his eyes betrayed him with a slight sense of panic at what you guessed to be the impending sense of rejection. “You like it?”

You finally allowed your eyes to dip down to your arm, twisting it to get a better look. Purple, blue and lilac threads had been twisted haphazardly into what could technically be considered a braid, though on every fourth or so knot, it twisted at the seams and knocked all uniformity right out of it. But a part of you hoped it was made with intention. The same intention that middle school girls gave them, when they swore up and down to be best friends forever to the other girls they’d bonded with at summer camp, only to forget their names in the next couple of years. The same that still rattled around your old jewellery box back at home, buried under tacky hoops and cheap pendants that teenage you liked wearing. You still remembered the pale pink half of a heart that you kept there, on a chain that’d seen better days. The other half at Cynthia’s house, hanging on her notice board underneath a picture of you two together, smiling at the lake five summers ago.

Friendship. A word that up until now, had lost all meaning to you. Something that was beginning to spark, though the rockiness and unease of having it for a long time was throwing you off balance. Something that was being offered, and you were so starved for it, you let yourself believe it. Even if it was fake, you’d take it.

You let the smile that graced your lips grow wide, as you nodded your approval. “Bit of a bold colour choice, but I dig it,” you shrugged, your tone taking any malice out of the words.

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly in a position to waltz on down to Hobby Lobby to get the perfect shades or anything,” he snorted, now idle fingers seeking stimulation by opening a new pack of cigarettes. “Cut it off if you don’t want it.”

And there it was. That slight drop to his smile, as his eyeline averted. No doubt already trying to soothe the sting of assumption, to protect his dignity. Laugh the pain away, don’t let anyone see into it. This was about more than a seemingly simple act of kindness, and you knew the feeling well. God, you wanted to soothe it. Make it go away for him. Because it would be a damn sight easier cheering him up than the sheer amount of effort it’d take to try and do the same to yourself.

But it needed to be carefully done. Replied to with the same jest, play the same game right back, otherwise the raw vulnerability would cause him to clam right back up again. “Nah, I’m keeping this sucker. Really makes my eyes pop, don’t ya think?”

You both shared a look of amusement, before your hand darted out before thinking. You noticed the way he flinched, and again, the inner critic was back with the whip to flagellate yourself with at the ready. You willed it away by turning your hand around, an open palm rather than a grasping claw. “My turn?” you offered, hoping the look on your face didn’t give off the desperation you felt.

You noticed the way his expression morphed, brows furrowed and lip darting out to moisten his lips, as he usually did when he was thinking in rapid motion about something. It relieved you to see his arm come into view, elbow to the deep gouges of the wooden table, an offering of his scarred wrist. You noticed the way his muscles tensed if the pads of your fingers brushed one of them, and you were careful not to make too much contact in securing the bracelet, pulling away when you were done to a respectable distance. Letting him bring his limb back to assess the new adornment, wrinkles around his eyes fading slightly and crinkling into a smirk as he picked at the fibres. A hum of acknowledgement, of endearment, rattled around his chest as he looked back up to you. “Same colours as Hellfire.”

Hellfire. You remembered that name, and you rattled your brain for the memory. “That’s the club you had, right? The one you had with your friends?”

“Yeah.” He fiddled with the smooth braids, rubbing the tip of his thumb back and forth across the length. You noticed how his voice had taken an edge to it as he shrugged, seemingly to shake off an intense emotion.

You wondered if the memories of the group was sinking him back into the realisation that he’d most likely never have a meetup with them again. Never have that sense of normalcy, of feeling a part of something. You knew full well that remembering could be a dangerous thing. Something that should be avoided, lest you fall trap to the longing of your freedom, sending yourself mad with the knowledge that things would never indeed be normal again.

You were still thinking of something to say, a distraction, when Eddie’s name was called from the hallway. His neck nearly snapping with the force of him looking over with a shocked expression, as the orderly grimaced at him as he beckoned him over with two fingers. With a glance at the clock, you noted the time, and something uncomfortable settled in your stomach as you waved the orderly in the room for a lighter. You’d seen a couple of people over the years be summoned around this time, to a part of the building you knew you’d probably never see. You didn’t want to give Eddie the heads up, just in case you were wrong, and this was all just mere coincidence. You bolted that heavy mask to your face as you swung your chair on it’s back two legs, a balancing act as you waited for your turn with the sacred lighter.

“Better hope Miller hasn’t picked up on your suspicion about the records room,” you smirked as you waggled your eyebrows, a sarcastic laugh volleyed back your way as he got up to cross the room. You spared him one last glance as his shoulders slumped, head down and eyes glued to the floor as he trailed behind the staff member. For all his bravado that he was slowly getting back, you knew that was the true Eddie. A man caged against his will, and the strength long since stripped away from him. A husk of a person, just like everyone else in here. Just like you.

You just prayed that for his sake, your assumption was correct.

In Pennhearst, knowing where you were going wasn’t exactly something that got shared often. An orderly would begrudgingly call out a last name, and with a jerk of the head, you were just expected to follow behind. At first, it had scared Eddie something fierce. Long were the days of coming and going where he pleased; in school, it was common for him to just wander out of the building for a smoke, and classes were optional in his mind. Part of the reason he could never graduate. Why bother going into a room where you’d be belittled? Where a label was instantly placed on you, and where it stuck no matter how hard you tried to shift it. He’d practically had ‘troublemaker’ stamped on his head since his Junior year. So why even bother?

A trick he learned was to look at the signs, commit them to memory. Try and figure out a map in your mind, and follow it. The orderly in front of him had passed left at the laundry room, and past the West wing bathrooms. He’d lost track of where he was since the right hand turn by the low security ward doors, and he was going down the corridor blind. Asking wouldn’t help. He wasn’t expecting an answer anyway.

The sight of a battered sign that seemed to be straining free of the plaster caught his eye, craning his head back to see it. The two words seemed foreign to him. A feeling that he knew them, knew the meaning, but hadn’t seen them put together before. The two words that both made his heart skip a beat and his stomach to churn in anticipation and excitement.

VISITOR ROOMS 1-5

It ached how much he was wanting them to stop at one of the doors. How much he needed them to. He started praying to anything and everything, things he didn’t believe in, right up until the man in front of him stopped at the door with a number three painted on the front. His hand stayed on the handle, and over his shoulder, Eddie could just make out a window that most likely let staff keep an eye on the patients without having to enter. He could just make out the fabric of a deep blue denim jacket in the bottom left corner, before it shifted and moved out of sight.

“You’ve got five minutes,” the orderly growled through gritted teeth, finally making eye contact with a venomous glare. “Any funny shit, and your ass is getting thrown into solitary so fast it’ll make your head spin. Am I clear?”

Eddie’s tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten cracked lips, nodding fervently as his hands clawed at his issued shirt to ground him. It took the raised brow of the man in front of him, a sign that he was quickly losing patience, to make him respond verbally. “Y-yessir. I understand.”

With one last glance into the room, the door opened, and Eddie was ushered inside. His breath getting stuck between his ribs as he took in the sight of two faces he thought he’d never see again.

Dark blue eyes, and a gruff face marred with wrinkles and tanned from the sun. A face with the expression that reminded him of being ten years-old, when he was just a kid with a bruise on his cheek and tears that wouldn’t stop falling. The hand of the social worker on his back doing nothing to comfort him, but the look of ‘I get it kiddo, I understand. You’re safe now’ that was worn by a man that looked so similar to his Dad but didn’t have any resemblance at the same time. And like the kid he once was, a sob bullied its way out of his throat as he rushed into the open arms of the one parental figure that never beat him, bellitled him, or expected anything more of him than trying as hard as he could.

The hug was crushing from both parties, with how Eddie clung to his Uncle Wayne, and how those solid arms around his chest added the pressure he so sorely needed. Gave him a reminder of just how much human contact he’d been starved of for five months, and how much he needed it more than oxygen. If Wayne was bothered by the way he buried his face into the older man’s neck and wracked out stifled cries, he never said anything. The large palm that cradled the back of his head seemed to encourage it, as if he knew this was what his nephew needed.

It seemed like an eternity, time suspended in the air, until firm hands carefully grasped his shoulders and tenderly pushed. Eddie relented, a hand flying up to wipe away as much snot and tears as he could. He recognised the next look that he was given, too. A look of pure worry, as Wayne’s eyes flitted from feature to feature. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he had access to some sorry excuses of polished metal as mirrors in this place. Dark circles practically tattooed onto heavy eye bags from the lack of sleep, features getting gaunt as stubble tried to force itself through the skin. Eyes no longer shining like they used to, now replaced with a soulless stare. Once, when he stomached a flash of eye contact in the mirror, he was reminded of his Mom. The way she looked after a blowout fight with his old man, when she lay in bed and cried for what seemed like hours.

“Eddie… You uh- you look good man,” another voice said quietly from his right, causing his head to snap violently towards the noise.

Dustin’s mop of curls were hard to mistake for anyone else's, the fondness in his facial features still the same as they were before. That certain look about him that occasionally glimmered underneath it all, the one that gave away that he’d grown far too fast for a kid his age. Had seen too much, and had to deal with far too much burden for a grown man to carry, let alone a fifteen year-old. The comment made Eddie gargle a sort of chuckle, hesitantly pulling away from his Uncle to wrap the kid up in an iron grip. He was happy to feel it returned with fervour, rocking his friend as he swayed with each bounce on the ball of his foot.

“I look like shit,” he weakly responded, making Dustin laugh as he squeezed even tighter. How long had he waited for this moment? To see someone from the outside, and to know that they were as happy to see him as he was to see them. That they wanted to hug him, and show him tenderness, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it.

Eddie jolted away as soon as he heard the latch of the door forced open, as if his friend was made of blistering coals. Eyes habitually returning to the faded and torn excuse for carpet, as the harsh words of the orderly that had brought him here made him flinch. “Hey, no contact in here,” the voice barked. “It’s against the rules-”

“Now you listen here,” another voice hissed, though through the venom, it sounded so much louder than it actually was. A southern drawl that Eddie was familiar with, but only when Wayne was riled up to the point of fury. Sparing a glance upwards, he could see Wayne’s finger pointing towards the door with an accusing jab. “It’s the first time I’ve seen my boy in God knows how long. If I wanna give him a damn hug, if his friend wants’ta give him one too, then we’ll do as we damn well please. Y’hear me?”

He could hear the orderly start to splutter, as if it was the first time he’d ever been refuted. Knowing that the staff around here liked to elevate themselves above all, as if they were some kind of capricious deities, it was likely to be true. “I’ll be letting my supervisor know about this,” was his answer, a thinly veiled threat. Wayne’s short burst of laughter was devoid of all humour.

“Go ahead,” Wayne replied. “I got my numbers t’ call too, if I think Eddie’s not gettin’ the help he needs. Wanna see who wins the little pissin’ contest ya got goin’ on here?”

For a second, no reply. Then two. Another look showed both men in some sort of stand off, before the orderly finally sneered his final taunt. Door slamming shut behind him, making Eddie jump out of his skin. Dustin’s gentle guidance got him to sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic armchairs, his fingertips finding the bracelet on his arm to fiddle with. Back and forth, stroking the braid and focusing on his breathing to try and even it out. He heard the two other inhabitants take a seat, Wayne’s clasped hands just in view as his elbows rested on his thighs. His voice now gentler, as if coaxing a frightened animal to come closer. “How’re you holdin’ up, son? They treatin’ ya decent in here?”

Eddie didn’t mean the bitter laugh to escape his lips, as he swiped the back of his hand across his face to try and clear his face. Finding the bracelet again, studying it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Normally, he’d make a joke about it all. Call this place a five star hotel, but make a comment about how they could use better pillows. But he couldn’t find the words, no matter how hard he tried. Resigning himself to the truth, as he shrugged. “S’fine.”

“Did uh… Did you get moved to medium security?” Dustin asked, and the puzzled look Eddie gave him in return as he looked up to see the boy must have prompted a further explanation. “Hopper put in a call. Well, several. Explained to the right people about what happened. He uh- he sends his best, by the way. Everyone does.”

Hopper? He thought the old chief of police had snuffed it in that Starcourt fire. More questions than answers given, and Dustin sighed wearily before explaining it all as best he could. As best as anyone could, given they had such a short time period to meet.

Hopper was alive, something about being in Russia for a while. El was back from California, and shit was still going south with the upside-down. Hawkins was still in trouble, but they were on the case. Some sort of higher ups were working on Eddie’s case, but it needed to go through proper channels to keep an illusion of normality. Evidence to be hidden, to be planted, to clear his name. They were waiting on Max to wake up, so she could give her statement and have all charges officially dropped. All of it barely sticking in Eddie’s brain, no doubt the meds he was on still keeping his neurons dulled.

But one thing stuck out. They were working on clearing his name. It was a shot at freedom. Not much, but it was there. In the darkness, came a small glimmer of hope. Like seeing a seam of gold in a coal mine. Something to cling onto for dear life, to keep putting one foot in front of the other for.

It was hope.

“You’re gonna get me out?” Eddie questioned, timbre cracking on every other syllable. Daring to look up to see the two people who probably cared about him more than anyone else on this Earth, and being met with a soft smile in return.

“Yeah, we’re getting you out,” Dustin echoed, voice soft as he rubbed his palms on his jeans. He reached over to retrieve a plastic bag, leaning over and placing it by Eddie’s feet. “But for now, we’re allowed to come and see you every two weeks. And we’re allowed to bring stuff, too. I mean, it’s something, right?”

Eddie felt too full of emotion, an experience he usually wasn’t fond of. A big reason he liked to get stoned, or listen to heavy metal music, or play his guitar. An outlet always helped, and right now he had nothing. Nothing but three pieces of string circling his wrist, and his leg bouncing a fast tempo. Peeking from the bag, he could see a book and a carton of Camels so far. Something he’d previously took for granted, but not any longer. He’d sworn to himself an oath during his two month mark in this place; if he ever got out of here, he’d never take the little things for granted ever again.

He nodded along to the words, unlatching the harsh grip his teeth had on his lower lip before answering. “Yeah, it’s… It’s something. Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it man,” Dustin replied. “If you need anything, just… Just tell us, alright? We’ll see what we can do.”

It took all the self restraint he had not to openly laugh, instead scrubbing his palm down the length of his face. He needed a lot of things. He needed a good night’s sleep, and a shower with water more than lukewarm and to never again smell carbolic soap. He needed to be able to take a long drive, maybe to the woods, avoiding lover’s lake to not have to remember those frightening and isolating days of hiding. He needed a good ounce of bud and his record player. Lots of things were needed. None were likely to actually be received.

“So, uh… Where’d you get that from?” Wayne asked after seconds of silence that went far too long for his liking. He knew better than anyone what a downward spiral looked like in his boy.

It took Eddie a moment to realise what he was talking about, before clicking all the pieces together when his uncle stared at his arm for too long. He said your name, softly at first. Like a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared. An eyebrow raise prompted him to clear his throat and explain. “She uh… She’s helping me out around here. Someone to talk to.”

Wayne didn’t seem impressed in the slightest, arms folding as he leaned in his chair. “You sure you can trust ‘er?” he asked, head slightly tilting.

Eddie’s head nodded erratically, sending split ends and frizz flying. “She’s like me, Wayne. Innocent.”

“And you believe her?”

“...Yeah.”

He did believe you. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a sort of gut feeling to be had around people that meant others harm. He’d felt it a couple of times in his life. Hairs on the back of his neck standing up, a nausea that couldn’t be replicated by an illness, a sense of unease paired with an urge to run. He first remembered it when his father would come home drunk, the front door slamming open and shut with heavy footfalls. He’d felt it when Jason and his lackeys were chasing after him that night on the boat. Hell, he felt it when that patient with the missing piece of his ear came a little too close for comfort, before you’d come to his rescue.

He could trust you. He had to. The only other option was doing all of this alone.

He watched the wrinkles in Wayne’s face to deepen for only a few seconds, before they relaxed to his natural frown. The Munson men had a habit of speaking without words, knowing each other well enough to be able to see slight gestures and eye contact to mean something that nobody else could pick up on. This particular eyebrow raise meant ‘I believe you’. Eddie’s slight nod was a thank you.

It was all over before it felt like it truly began. The sense of normality, of a conversation between three people who knew each other well, was cut short by an orderly opening the door and barking Eddie’s last name. With the faded grocery bag in hand - after yet another check of the contents, as if a shiv would magically appear after opening it for the fifth time - he was led back to the common room to engage in the mind-numbing routine that never changed.

But at least you were sitting there, waiting for him. Lounged in one of the threadbare sofas, flipping through a magazine that he’d seen you read at least a half dozen times. You looked up, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips as you nodded towards the other side of the couch. No judgement, no questions barraged at him as he crossed the room. Just patience and a slight eyebrow raise. Thank God that won’t change, was his first thought. The smallest bloom, like the first of springtime, got caught in his ribcage. Swallowed back down, bitter as whisky, before it could cling to his heart and not let go.

“Visitors?” you asked as he leaned over the armrest, your eyes not leaving the freshly turned page. He could sense something in your voice; something that caught his attention. It wasn’t anger. It was deeper than that, hitting at a lower emotional register. He noticed an ever so slight furrow of your brow, eyes ever so glossy. Then it hit him. Visitors.

Something that not once, he had ever seen you leave for.

He recognised that feeling. The feeling of always being left out at the playground, never allowed to join the other kids. Of being dumped at a doorstep you didn’t know by your piece of shit father, the memory of the back of his jacket exiting view through a haze of tears. It was being called names, or worse, being flat out ignored. He knew it all too well. And he’d always hated seeing it in others.

But there was no point lying about it, either. “Yeah,” he nodded, plucking the carton of cigarettes from the bag and beginning to unwrap them. “My uncle and a friend. Hadn’t seen ‘em since…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he grasped a few packets from the sleeve. If you noticed his choice of words, you weren’t showing it.

He placed them by your feet where they were half tucked underneath you with a wry smile. “For all the ones I stole when I first got here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned, finally tossing the magazine to the floor. He noticed the way you seemed touched by the gesture, though. “This place gives ‘em out like fucking candy.”

“Yeah, but you hate the brand they give out,” he chuckled, remembering how often you complained about it first thing in the morning, still half asleep and grumpy from the medications used to sedate you. “Just take ‘em. Save them for special occasions.”

For a moment, he expected more of a fight. But to your credit, you took them with grace. Opening a pack and handing him one, you motioned for the lighter as you nodded your head towards the bag. “What else you get?”

“Uhh… Good question,” he shrugged, finally taking everything out to inspect. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett, and from the looks of it, it was secondhand. A quick inspection of the first page gave him the name of the previous owner.

D. Henderson.

“Love that little shit,” he mumbled under his breath, a fond smirk as he plucked the last item. Well, items. There were various envelopes, already torn open and no doubt already read, bundled together by a rubber band. He recognised the one on top from the character sheets he’d had handed in over countless times. Lucas’ neat handwriting spelling out his name. Already, a lump formed in his throat as he hastily shoved them back. Not here, he reminded himself.

“Good haul,” you said quietly, no doubt well aware of his sudden shift in mood. It was strange, how two people adrift could find equilibrium. He could sense your fluctuations, the small changes in behaviour, that let him know to tread carefully. And now, it was happening in reverse.

All he could do was nod. Allow the static of the silence to wash over you two, and to your credit, you never pushed.

He was thankful for that.

Small stacks of paper surrounded his silhouette on the bed, the one he was trying to read gripped tight in his fist whilst the other hand muffled his sobs. Eddie hadn’t had many good words heard about him over his short life. Words were usually spat with venom, and he flicked barbs back. But now, it was there, all in black and white, and in various calligraphy.

“Be strong man, you got this,” wrote Steve.

“We’re fighting for you as hard as we can out here, just hang tight,” Robin scrawled.

“I’ve always known you didn’t do it, son. I need you to know that.” In a font he remembered the most.

His ribcage broke with the force of how much his heart hurt. The grief, the sadness, the shame. It was washing over him like waves, threatening to drag him under for good. He grieved for Chrissy, and he grieved for himself. It just kept pouring, like molasses sticky in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t stop until dawn broke, when he finally managed to put a lid back on everything and shut it away. Close the door and refuse to look, for fear a monster is in the closet.

Hide it away, so it doesn’t hurt. Hide it until it’s safe to come out, if it ever does. Hide it, conceal it, consume it until it’s as dense as a neutron star. And if you did hear him crying from across the hall, you didn’t say anything. God, he was so thankful you didn’t say anything.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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ananxiousgenz · 1 month

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SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 10

wahoo!!! yippie!!!! part 10 and over 10k written!! let's go!!!!

this part is like. lowkey weird to me. and i don't know why. lmk if any choices i made here were a bad/weird idea bc i feel like some of them might have been lmao

MY PERSONAL CARTE BLANCHE CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

Nureyev struggled to get his jaw working as he stared at the man across the room.

It was Slip.

Slip Jackson.

How was he…. How was he here?

He knew he had known this man when they were kids. They had been close, Nureyev supposed, from the fragments of memories he had of him.

Until the winter got a hold of Slip, and he disappeared into the night.

Nureyev never saw him again.

Slip had changed. He was taller, of course, and not nearly as skinny, his hair shot through with white and grey, perfectly complimenting the neat black suit he wore. His eyes looked harder. Not so much careworn as workworn, sharp and clever. His mouth was set into a stunning grin. In the buttonhole of a suit jacket was a perfect, red dahlia.

Nureyev had to look away at that point. He couldn’t look at that dahlia without thinking of his dahlia, left behind on the surface, probably was wondering where he was by now. Probably out in the snow looking for him. Probably confused and scared and- why are you like this, why do you make these choices that hurt other people and only benefit you, what’s the matter with you-

“What’s the matter, Petya? Don’t you remember me?”

He shook off the guilt and tried to think. He couldn’t remember a lot of their time together. He remembered laughing, an echo of a feeling warmer than the glow of the sun, braiding flowers into long, auburn hair, and splitting an apple, fresh off the tree, with a small, bone-handled knife, the same one he carried now in his left pocket. Nothing concrete. Nothing to explain why he now stood in front of this man, who was now the king of the Underworld.

He shook his head slowly.

Slip’s grin slid slowly off his face. His voice was far deeper than Peter could ever remember having heard before. “What do you mean? I thought you’d be happy to see me again.”

There was a faint sense of panic bubbling up in him now. He began to get the strange sense that admitting his lack of memory was a bad idea, but he just kept shaking his head.

“Well, then. Allow me to jog your memory. My name is Slip. Slip Jackson. We knew each other as teenagers. We were practically inseparable. Spent every day together. We were in love. We were going to run away together until I caught pneumonia one night and passed away. That would be as much of the story as you know, I think.”

Nureyev liked to think he remembered most of the big pieces of his time with Slip, but the two of them being ‘in love’ was new. He examined his memories a bit more closely. He did seem to recall a few shy kisses, huddled in the alleyway behind a bar, and maybe a few cuddles. Nothing concrete. Nothing to suggest they were ever in love.

“What I would like to know from you, Petya, is why you didn’t come for me when I called.”

The confusion must have been obvious on his face, because Slip sighed deeply before continuing.

“Oh come on, I know it’s been a long time, Petya, but I didn’t realize you would have forgotten so much about us! Surely you remember our little games and the fairy tales we liked to tell each other.”

Nureyev opened his mouth to speak.

And then the vague fear cemented itself into solid, steel panic.

He couldn’t speak.

His throat and lungs had already felt strange, empty and airy and wet and sticky all at the same time, like the air in them wasn’t escaping through his nose but his throat instead. He initially thought it was just a side effect of being- dead? Was he actually dead? It didn’t matter. Whether or not he was dead, there was nothing coming out of his mouth.

He tried again in case it was a fluke, but with the same results. Nothing.

His voice was just.

Gone.

“Ah, I suppose I should have mentioned that to you sooner, Petya,” Slip said gently, ushering a barely conscious and panicking Peter over to a chair in front of the large mahogany desk at the center of the room. “Sometimes, the ways people die on the surface have…. side effects in the afterlife. I’m afraid your death is such a case.”

He settled into his chair behind the desk and began shuffling some papers around. “I am looking into a way to get your voice back but chances of a good outcome are low, I’m afraid. Past experiments haven’t exactly been promising. But in the meantime, you are more than welcome to work for me! You wouldn’t be paid, but it would be something to do to pass the time.”

Peter was staring, mouth slightly open. He was pissed now, anger rising in his heart like a hurricane flood. What kind of bullshit was this? He got murdered by the henchmen of a childhood friend/lover who he barely remembered, dragged down to the Underworld, only to be told his voice is now gone, perhaps forever. All he wanted was a job. All he wanted was to get away from poverty and trouble.

And now he was right back in it.

Slip got up from his seat behind the desk and tried to block Nureyev’s path to the door, babbling something about giving them more time to find a solution and how all he wanted was for Petya to stay a while longer.

Nureyev punched him straight in the jaw. He didn’t give a shit anymore.

Slip stumbled backward onto the floor and Nureyev glided over him in two long, neat strides. He was out of the door and down the hallway in two more. By the time he had reached the front door, several of the henchmen who had brought him here earlier were barreling down the hallway after him.

But the funny thing about being dead is that you lose a lot of what makes you human. Heartbeat. Breathing. Pain. And without those, it becomes a whole lot easier to disappear.

And Nureyev had already been a master of disappearances while living.

He was already safely tucked away in a nearby alley by the time the executives charged out into the street in search of him. More of a ghost than any of the souls here could ever hope to be. He watched as they walked straight past him, never knowing that he was only a few feet away from them. He could reach out and brush the dust off of one of their lapels, but he stayed as still and silent as a stone statute. As soon as they were gone, he huffed out a quiet sigh of relief before the anger began to fade away and the reality of his situation hit him.

He was alone, penniless, and voiceless in a strange city a thousand miles from home.

He had nothing to his name except, well, his name.

He was helpless, a child who walked into the deep end of a pool too soon and was now floundering.

In spite of his best efforts, Peter Nureyev began to cry again.

What was that saying that Buddy was always so fond of repeating? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. He supposed, in some sick and twisted way, that he deserved this. He had made this situation, and now he had to live with it. Gods, he hated that he was like this.

Pull yourself together, Nureyev. You’ve gotten out of tougher deals than this.

He took a minute to breathe and pull himself together. He had no plan, but was almost prepared to go before he noticed the figure standing off to his left, watching him. Instinctively, he leaped up and grabbed the knife from his pocket, holding it out in their direction. The figure raised their arms in surrender.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m sorry! I just- you were sitting here all by yourself, and well, I thought you looked a little lonely. Do you need any help?”

Nureyev opened his mouth to make a snarky comment in return, but no sound came out. He silently cursed his rotten luck.

“Ohhh, did you lose your voice?” The figure took a few steps closer into the light.

The knife nearly dropped from Nureyev’s hand once he saw the man’s face. This person was….

That was Benzaiten Steel. Peter would have bet his life on it.

He was nearly an exact replica of Juno if life hadn’t been quite so tough on him. Same wide and curious eyes, same nose, same jaw, same glimmer of mischief and compassion lurking at the edges of his expression, dressed in denim overalls, heavy work boots, and grease-stained shirt. Juno didn’t talk about his brother often, but when he did, it was always with no small amount of pain and grief. He had always wondered what had happened between the two of them that had caused Juno so much hurt. Now, perhaps he could find out.

Nureyev hesitated, considering his options, then nodded, and dropped the knife back down to his side.

“Shit,” Ben said, real concern lacing his voice as he dropped his hands. “And you’re new here too, aren’t you? I can’t say I’ve seen you before.”

Nureyev nodded again.

Ben blew out a long breath, clearly thinking. His brow furrowed in the same way Juno’s did when he was trying to work out a particularly tricky problem. Gods, he missed him.

“Okay then, you’re gonna stick with me from here on out, okay? Heyyyy, don’t give me that look. Everyone who comes down here thinks they can take care of themselves, but they can’t. They always need help. And I’m gonna be your helper! Oh, and where are my manners! My name is Benzaiten, but you can call me Ben. And because you definitely can’t tell me your name, I’m going to call you… Glass. Because your glasses are broken. Is that okay with you? I thought it would be. I am pretty good at naming things, if I do say so myself. I can fix your glasses when we get back to the party.”

A party? Down here? Nureyev narrowed his eyes. That seemed… suspicious.

“Ah. That’s right. Well, you didn’t hear this from me,” Ben said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “but when the bosses aren’t looking, some of us like to have a little fun. A little wine, a little dancing, a few flowers here and there… it does wonders for the soul, I’ll tell ya. I’ll introduce you to the whole gang, Glass!”

The faintest of smiles crept across Nureyev’s face. Perhaps something worthwhile might come out of this disaster after all.

#sorry not sorry #i love y'all <3 #the penumbra podcast #tpp #tpp hadestown au #song for a caged lovebird #hadestown

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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How does your Tumblr readership differ to that of your Word Press readership? Have they reacted differently to characters, storylines, etc?

hello! Not a heap, really, both places have brought really really nice and thoughtful readers, and I'm really grateful for that.

In general I'd say the outliers of my readership have been those who have come from the sims forums. I'm not sure why exactly, perhaps the fact that my thread over there has been more of an open discussion and readers can talk to each other about their thoughts, but there have been more... let's say interesting responses to storylines/characters lol.

From my perspective absolutely everyone who has sent an anon message or commented on a post here on tumblr has been genuinely delightful. I felt like the story was very understood here. The main differences I've noted are that weird, side characters like Liam, Geoff from Monaghan and Stephen from the college bar get far too much airtime and are defended which is pretty wild I've also had Dean lovers and Kelly sympathizers, which is strange to me, but I know that I can never dictate what a reader will see in a character or take from the story, and I've learned that it's not for me to decide who's likable and who's not. People defend side characters and the 'villains' out of self defense, perhaps. They see something of themselves or a person they love in that character, and so it makes a lot of sense to feel camaraderie.

It's the same with Jude and Evie haters - their behaviour can be strange and triggering to people, and I can't make them like them.

I rambled way too much lmao but I've been so busy these last weeks and it's been too long since I've talked about this story haha

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bonesandthebees · 6 months

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It's very funny to see my dash filled with QSMP stuff yet not being into it myself. I think now I understand how all those people felt when they were exposed to DSMP content/discourse, because the stuff I see now sounds absolutely insane sometimes (I dropped off after Juanaflippa died and haven't been up to date ever since).

Anyway, the Halloween story! I really liked what you did with leading us to believe that Wilbur was the guilty one (the conversation in the bar really sold that idea) and then slowly letting us realise that maybe things aren't the way we think they are. Small towns hold so many secrets..

Burning down the corn somehow felt like the last punch they could pull and in a way it was very poetic. A nice sense of closure.

I also wonder what was Phil's reaction when the boys told him the story. Could you tell us more about it? (or redirect me to a post if this was already answered)

-🌹

LMAO I'm so sorry for filling your dash with qsmp I'm sure that's gotta be wild to experience. qsmp is insane enough when you know what's going on, the outside POVs have gotta feel so wild

I don't blame you for dropping off after juanaflippa died I definitely considered dipping but then the wilbur soot tallulah week happened and I was revitalized and became extremely invested in that beanie wearing egg with hair. then I got highkey attached to everyone else and now I rotate q!phil in my mind constantly he's soooooo :)

(general reminder to my followers: if something I post a lot of and don't tag is annoying you feel free to ask me to tag it so you can block the posts! I stopped tagging my qsmp posts a while ago but I can go back to doing that or create a new tag for them if you don't wanna see them)

anyway moving on

aw thank you I'm so glad you enjoyed!! I had a lot of fun playing around with the misdirection in the foreshadowing. that conversation in the bar was especially fun to write because quackity holds the same assumption as the readers: that wilbur killed their father. wilbur knows this is what quackity thinks and doesn't do a whole lot to dissuade that notion, thus further cementing the idea to the readers as well. it was a lot of fun wordplay for me

ngl I've just always wanted to write a midwestern gothic type thing that ended with a cornfield burning down the mental image is just too cool. also like you pointed out I thought it gave the story a nice sense of closure :)

okay so this ask doesn't get too long (and so people can keep things vague if they want) i'll put the 'what happens when phil finds out' bit under the cut

so I wanted to leave things with phil vague so the readers could make their own interpretations, but I'd like to think that phil actually suspected that wilbur and tommy had something to do with their father's disappearance from the start. he never put too much stock into it though because he always thought they would've told him if they did actually have a hand in it. so instead he just kind of purposefully turned a blind eye to all the signs and imagined their father probably went and pissed the wrong person off at the wrong time while drunk and got a bullet between the eyes as a result. it wasn't exactly wrong.

anyway, finding out that his original gut feeling was right and they were the ones to kill him hurts phil a lot. not because his brothers murdered their father, but because they didn't tell him about it for ten years. when more details get revealed and he learns that tommy was the one to shoot him and not wilbur, he understands a little more why wilbur was so reluctant to tell him but still, the hurt is there. at the very least, he understands why wilbur left now, and that's been an open wound for him for years at this point. so that bit of closure, combined with knowing for sure that their father is never coming back, makes up for the pain of knowing how long his little brothers lied to him.

basically the conversation ends with phil reassuring tommy a lot while scolding wilbur for leaving for eight years instead of telling him the truth. hours later though, probably once the sun has risen and tommy has passed out in his room, phil sees wilbur sitting at the dining table staring blankly into his coffee mug. he thinks about what wilbur told him before about how he learned to run away from him, and that phil wasn't there when they needed him. he thinks about the guilt in wilbur's eyes when he told phil that tommy had to shoot their dad because he just couldn't pull the trigger himself.

and phil goes and hugs his younger brother, and tells him that it wasn't his fault. that he did the best he could. that it's okay that he couldn't pull the trigger. and wilbur hugs him back, feeling like a little kid again wrapped up in his big brother's arms.

it's not okay yet. it might not ever be fully okay. but they're dealing with it. as a family this time.

#ask #rose anon #peeling scars

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oudkee · 7 months

Text

inazuma eleven ask game

but im not gonna make you send me asks i am just answering all the questions out of boredom. original by @marmolao , post here

1-Favorite season/game/manga.

aliea season (2) my beloved. super nostalgic and definitely the arc i've rewatched the most

2-Favorite og character(s).

kidou yuuto my son. also desarm he's a funky alien. uhhh rococo and kazemaru too

3-Favorite go character(s).

TENMA, shindou used to be my fave but on my rewatch i was like ok he's kind of a dick in galaxy like he really leaned into it. kinako my beloved and most of all ray rukh. robot son. I FORGOT BITWAY okay no bitway is my favourite go character and prolly my fave inazumer of all time. sexy older alien man and probably the precursor of my love for the equally evil alien miss founder from deep space nine.

question 3 was actually missing from the copypasta and so was question 4. i took a wild guess what 3 was but no clue for 4...

5-Favorite areori character(s).

shimerigawa kageru. i have his license in my wallet and ive mistakenly grabbed it instead of my id at bars lmao. heres my ugly anime boy card.

6-Least favorite og character(s).

no one really occurs to me immediately. i used to be really hateful as a teenager i had like a whole list LMAO uhhhhhh i guess the evil mastermind from ffi season. garfield

7-Least favorite go character(s).

the bear

8-Least favorite areori character(s).

kind of like. everyone lmao. no one appealed to me and areori just feels like a soulless cash grab so absolutely none of the characters were even interesting beyond having some like surface level thing that got resolved immediately every time

9-Favorite coach(es).

kageyama. what a fucked up old man

10-Favorite scout character(s).

i never used them in the games lol but i like the designs of like. the machinery/mechanical themed ones

11-Favorite og team(s).

mikage sennou and all five aliea teams but especially epsilon

12-Favorite go team(s).

perfect cascade and ixal fleet........

13-Favorite areori team(s).

none oops sorry

14-Favorite hissatsu technique(s).

stargazer... shoot pocket uhh. god there were actually so many but i just don't remember any of them. i think perfect cascade had like the command ones that were cool but i dont remember im geriatric

15-Favorite hissatsu tactic(s).

REALLY dont remember any of these

16-Favorite keshin(s).

plasma shadow.........

17-Favorite keshin armour(s).

every single one of them slapped. they all looked so good. tenma's and ray rukh's were the best tho

18-Favorite miximax(s).

i dont like them.

19-Favorite soul(s).

bitway's fucked up tentacle monster

20-Favorite character design(s).

WAY too many. with a series with hundreds of characters im bound to be obsessed with a lot of the designs. so i really like all the ixalens from a design standpoint because they're almost... insect like but then they have that vorta paleness that's like okay you definitely came from a planet with a dense atmosphere that doesn't have a lot of natural light. the bird people had really good designs. tenma has that awful early 2010s shonen protag look about him but he's just so cute it works i love the cinnamon roll hair. chrono stone had a lot of random background characters that really slapped like engir and rudzhik it's baffling to me that this was the same season that had those awful mixi max designs. speaking of chrono stone i ALSO like the creepy factor of all the robot boys looking like. essentially the exact same like same height same body same skintone but with different eyes and hair it's so icky creepy i LOVE IT. i wish they were explored deeper because i love mechanical horror and the relationship between artificial beings and the organic life that surrounds them. not only that but their maker has like gendo ikari vibes. if u havent noticed i have a lot 2 say.

21-Favorite opening(s)/ending(s).

maji de kansha literally actually changed my life. i got through a lot of really low points because of maji de kansha this isn't even a joke. it's been a decade now and the song still hits just as hard. as for endings uhhhhhhhhhh katte ni cinderella was the best but i don't like the full version only the short anime version

22-Favorite character song(s).

ice road, starline, and yasashii mirai. OH and don't stop that's such a fucking banger from ibuki munemasa himself. he did that for us

23-Favorite friendship(s)/character dynamic(s).

i like the dynamic everyone has with endou like he actually becomes friends with like. everyone even the weird italian kid that thought it was okay kageyama tried to murder him. well he didn't think it was okay he just didn't even really care which is almost weirder

24-Favorite ship(s).

im almost 27 i dont really find fulfillment in shipping teenagers together

25-Favorite protagonist(s).

tenma and kidou my boyz

26-Favorite villain(s).

BITWAY OZROCK!!!!!!! and kageyama

27-Favorite character’s backstory.

i have this really messed up and long origin story for all the aliea season kids that i wrote years ago lmao... as for canon i just don't care i guess. it's not so much the backstory as how the character handles it in the end like the backstory can be Aww Sad all it wants but if the character acts like a dick or just unintersting in the plot bc of it then why should i really care. fudou akio im calling u out

28-Favorite sidecharacter(s)/NPC(s).

the clown

29-Headcanon(s) worth of sharing here.

i remember i had this whole kageyama family/shindou family/tachimukai family tree headcanon that was like basically shindou was kageyama's illegitimate son. kageyama's brother married tachimukai's older sister or cousin or whatever and they had hikaru. and way long down the line hikaru was related to sakamaki who created perfect cascade. much to think about

30-Free ask!

i need everyone to know that inazuma eleven is intrinsically linked with star trek: deep space nine by way of deep space nine's japanese dub. the lady who dubbed ezri dax was the lady who voiced toramaru. that is all

#i had a lot more to talk about than i thought #cant believe ive been a fan of this series for like. almost 11 years

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hyperfixated-homo · 1 year

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ooh I'm gonna be super predictable but I adore big brother Virgil in any capacity, so if you wanna write that go wild. muah <3

Tired, but never of them

Virgil has a bad day. His little siblings comfort him in their own special way.

Ao3 Link

A/N: This took a while, sorry! Sibling stories are not my strong suit lmao. It’s not even really explicit that he’s the older one here, but you know that he is and I guess that’s what matters. Also I almost got to 2k words with this fic!! Yay me :D

———

He was having a bad day.

Everything had gone wrong from the moment he woke up. He was late for school because he needed to stay up all night to study for a test (which he missed, thanks to his lateness). Then he got a call from his boss and he had to leave his brothers alone in the house because obviously he didn't want to get fucking fired and lose their only source of income. Then it felt like the only customers at their shitty little convenience store were all angry moms and spoiled brats who would take forever to buy their stupid fucking candy and gum and then complain when he didn't give them a discount when they gave him dirty looks. Then in a tiring series of events:

Some kids from his school showed up and started fucking around with the displays.

One of them jokingly asked him out and then called him gay for not immediately saying no.

They all proceeded to laugh at him for being queer for like, half an hour (which he was, but they didn't know that so what was the point?).

A middle aged man yelled at him for five minutes because he wouldn't give him a free beer for an expired coupon that wasn't even for their store.

A kid started crying really fucking loudly in the corner (she didn't stop for fifteen minutes and her parents refused to leave the store. He didn't know if he felt more sorry for them or for himself).

Someone smashed a bottle on the floor trying to take it out of a six pack even though they had a massive sign that clearly stated that they didn't sell single bottles.

And then, to top it all off, one of the kids smoked a cigarette in the bathroom and set the place on fire.

So yeah. In conclusion; Virgil Sanders was having an absolutely horrible fucking day.

When he got home, it was already seven pm and he hadn't eaten since his rushed breakfast (the granola bars at the store didn't count for shit). He was exhausted and stressed out and so sick of everything that he didn't bother to say hi to his brothers when he got back, deciding instead to immediately go to his room and flop onto his bed.

He didn't even take off his shoes or jacket. He just laid there staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck he was doing with his life.

Everything sort of hurt, but not in the sharp way it hurts to get a scrape, or hit your head. It was more like a general soreness that spread throughout his entire body once he laid down. His stomach hurt. It always did when he got stressed or overworked, but it made him feel miserable.

He would need to redo his test. And have to explain to his science teacher why he had to redo the test. Would he need to do it alone? Was that better or worse than having to do that in a room full of people? He didn't know. But he was still thinking about it. For some reason. And probably would be for the entire evening. Fuck.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment and then let out a long sigh. He probably needed to make some food for his brothers. Fucking-

His brothers! Had they eaten anything for lunch? He hadn't had time to come back home after his second morning class, he didn't even check on them when he came home. What if they'd gotten in trouble? What if they thought that he hated them because he was in a bad mood and didn't talk to them? He knew that they got upset when he didn't pay attention to them, how could he just-

A knock sounded at his door. He called out (much more shakily than he would like to admit) for them to come in.

His door opened slowly and two big blue eyes popped out behind it.

"Hey Logan." Virgil croaked out (when did his throat get so dry?)

"...Hi." He sounded small, like he didn't want to say anything. Was he scared? Upset maybe? God they probably did think that he hated them-

"We made you some stuff."

Virgil blinked at him. That was most definitely not what he expected. "You made me things?" Logan nodded, almost shyly.

"Jay and Patton wanted me to give it to you because I'm the most quiet and they didn't know if you had a headache or not." The little seven year old explained, opening the door more and revealing a little tray behind him. Virgil couldn't quite make out the contents from his spot on the bed.

"Can I come in?" He asked. Virgil let him in, sitting up to talk about him better.

Logan picked up the tray and brought it over. Placing it on an empty spot on his bed, he pushed himself up and sat next to Virgil, putting his little hand over Virgil's.

Virgil damn near cried.

On the tray was a plate of pasta, some water, a little box of Pepto-Bismol, two cards and a little blue gem.

The pasta was clearly Patton's, heated warm enough to feel the heat in his stomach but not hot enough to burn. It was sprinkled with sliced ham and Parmesan, which was funny because Virgil was the only one who actually like Parmesan in this house. The ham and cheese combo was simple but it had become a sort of comfort food for Virgil, who had gotten used to making foods like that on a very low budget. When Patton started taking over some of the cooking a the ripe age of ten, he managed to make the recipe even better by adding melted cream (it was legendary; cheap, tasty and made the pasta so much better. Virgil was so amazed at his abilities that he upgraded him to the house chef on the spot).

The water and Pepto-Bismol were probably Janus' doing. Most of his siblings didn't know the difference between it and other over the counter medication like Advil or Tylenol. Janus had helped him do some research on which ones were safer after Virgil expressed concern about how much medicine this family needed (Seriously, between the twins’ chaotic habit of slamming into every possible surface of any place they go—plus Patton's leg injury and Logan's chronic pain, Janus' headaches and Virgil's stomachaches—the drugstore nearby basically knew them by name). Janus had probably taken the time to think about what type of pain he was in and somehow figured out exactly what medicine would make him feel better. He did that all the time, but it never failed to amaze Virgil.

The cards had so much detail both on the back and front that it could only have been the twins' work. There were drawings and doodles all over the paper, Roman's featuring chibi versions of his younger brothers giving Virgil a big hug, while Remus' showed some more realistic drawings that featured an odd amount of eyes and limbs. They were both equally endearing. What really took Virgil aback was the amount of stickers the two had put on their cards. They loved to collect stickers, but had a general rule that using them was strictly forbidden. They were meant for looking and not using. The two of them using so many made the cards feel really special, as strange as it was.

Opening the cards, Virgil was met with a pop up drawing of himself on Roman's card and a big monster of limbs and eyes and mouths on Remus' that was labeled "the bad day". He was a bit confused for a moment, but then Logan put the two together and he couldn't help but laugh.

When the pages were pressed against each other the pop-out figures it formed a scene where Virgil was a heroic knight, holding his sword out and fighting The Bad Day. It was so thoughtful and creative and them that it almost made Virgil choke up a little bit.

The final thing on the tray was a crystal, small enough to easily fit into his palm. It was smooth on the bottom and jutted out into a natural looking formation, the bumpy pattern giving it a wonderful texture and a frozen appearance. It was slightly transparent, and through it Virgil could see that the edges were a bright cyan, while the middles were a deeper shade of indigo.

It was a salt crystal, one that Logan had made himself at home after a class demonstration left him interested. He'd kept them afterwards and called them his comfort crystals, because the knowledge of their creation made him feel better when he was sad, and the texture was pleasantly stimulating to him.

The crystal on his tray now was one that they had made together. It was one of the first crystals that had ever actually formed (when Virgil realized that the reason they weren't forming was because it wasn't humid enough for it to crystalize). It was also the first one they'd dyed.

It was Logan's favorite comfort crystal.

"Sometimes I feel better when I'm just holding it," Logan murmured when Virgil picked it up "so you can borrow it for a bit."

It really wasn't much, but it meant everything to him. The pasta had too much ham and the glass wasn't filled all the way, and there were spelling mistakes in all the kind words in the cards and there was no way to put the crystal down so that it wouldn't start rolling when the bed moved but it was so, so perfect and oh fuck he was crying-

"Virge?" It wasn't from the little boy beside him, but rather his door. "Are you okay?"

Patton's concerned voice from the doorway was enough to make him sob. He walked in immediately and started going through breathing exercises to calm him down.

Virgil spluttered for a minute, trying to find a nice way to voice his thoughts without sounding like a complete idiot but eventually just said fuck it.

"'I'm not sad." He said in-between sobs "I just really, really love you guys, you know?"

Patton's concerned face split into a grin, and he squealed, pulling him up and into a hug. "I love you too!" He said, squeezing him tightly.

It took a while for Virgil finally calmed down enough to get out of the hug and wipe his eyes. When they broke from their hug, he could see the others standing in his doorway. It seemed that Logan had gone to grab them while Patton comforted him through his sob fest.

He snorted, slightly wetly, and said "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Instantly, he had two little balls of red and green in his arms, loudly asking if he's okay. Janus came over to pluck the food from its spot on the bed and put it somewhere safer, and Logan rejoined him by his side.

It was nice. They were nice. He could feel himself relax and calm down as the twins explained the thought process behind their cards a little better, the background noise doing wonders for his overstimulated mind. Patton and Janus sat down eventually, Janus on his right and Patton holding Logan on his left. They gave him back his pasta so that he could eat while they talked about their days.

They were so careful to not talk about anything that might trigger him. Every time he thought about it, it made him want to burst into tears again.

There was warmth on all sides, not trapping but simply surrounding him. And he felt safe.

It had been a bit of a bad day. And he was still a little tired, but he knew at the end of the day he could never be tired of his family.

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #older brother virgil #i dont know how to tag fics on tumblr #hurt/comfort #soft #shadow writes

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