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emmyrosee · 3 days

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Can we talk about how rintaro probably swallows your engagement ring by accident?

Honestly? Okay listen… Do you think he swallows it? I think he swallows it.

Because like okay. Rintaro puts a ton of planning behind everything he does, he wants to make your engagement this massive scene out of a movie because you’re out of a movie; you swooped into his life and showed him the path he wants to be on, the one that always leads back to you.

But like. Why would everything not crumble around him each and every time he tries to work up the courage to finally pop that four word phrase?

It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy.

An engagement ring, propped on some frosting on the center of the cake, ready for you to scoop up and slip on and give him an excited yes and the world would clap and he’d get a Nobel prize or something for such an extravagant proposal.

Except. That doesn’t happen.

The first bite Rintaro takes, he shovels in his mouth nervously, and there’s a massive shock to his teeth when they clank down hard on the ring on his cake.

How he didn’t notice? How the waiter messed them up? He blames it on the waiter.

Him swallowing the ring..? Yeah no. That’s got him written all over it.

His nerves just got the best of him and sends the large diamond down his throat, eyes bulging out as he realizes. He chokes briefly, grabbing his wine and gulping it down to wash the jewelry down.

Uh oh.

“Baby?” You ask. “Something wrong?”

“…nope.”

The rest of dinner is silent, you trying desperately to make conversation and his mind going insane trying to process what to do next.

Your engagement ring, the object that completely envelops your love in a physical sense is floating in the acids of his stomach, and who knows what the next step in the plan is.

He dreads it.

The car ride is complete silence, you occasionally clearing your throat or sighing to try and strike a conversation, but Rin’s mind is on a complete other planet, trying to make a map of his next move and how to get the ring 1.) out of his body and 2.) to you.

Is he really going to give you a ring he ate? He can’t. That’s vile. But he can’t spend the money on another one, even if it is more than worth it to spend it on you, and-

“Rin,” you whisper, touching his thigh. “You just blew a red light.”

“Damn- I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“Don’t be sorry… is everything alright?”

“Just fine.”

“Are you mad at me?”

His foot slams hard, hard on the breaks, causing commotion behind him as the wailing of car horns fills the air. “God, baby, no, of course not!”

“Then why have you been so quiet?” You ask sadly.

“I can’t tell you.” Out of embarrassment and stupidity, he thinks to himself.

You leave it at that. You go quiet again, and when he makes a move to rest his hand on your thigh, you turn away, and his whole heart sinks.

The rest of the ride home drags on. There’s no more attempts of noise, no more sighs or clearing of throats, only the roar of the engine for a few more miles until you get home. He barely gets the chance to park the car before you’re out and storming up the driveway, clearly upset with the situation. He sighs and follows you in, and you’ve hiked up the stairs to the bathroom. He winces at the slam of the door, and he’s quick to call osamu for advice.

Advice that the twin gives him around countless gawfs of unhelpful, judgmental laughter.

He tells Rintaro to calm down and stop being weird towards you- take a spoonful of laxatives mixed in with water and let the body “process” for as long as it needs to. Get you a new ring, trash the old one and mourn the loss of money after you two get engaged.

He sighs and ends the call, making his way to the upstairs bathroom where he keeps the medicine. You brush past him in a towel, refusing to acknowledge him or his presence with so much as a “hmph.”

The shower he takes alone is cold, his mind is loud and his heart is pounding and his stomach queases for more than a few reasons. How could he have messed this up so badly? It was supposed to be cute! Just flashy enough for him to flaunt you, but simple enough to not be messed up.

Yet he messed it up.

Rintaro dries himself and makes his way into the bedroom, where you’re already burrowed under the covers on your side of the bed. He throws on some form of pajama before making his way downstairs to make his laxative drink.

One tablespoon of laxative mixed with water, allow body to process for one day before repeating, let all powder dissolve before drinking- he follows every single one of the thorough instructions completely, and he starts to drink the concoction with a scowl of disgust.

The hell is this made out of?

“What’re you still doing up?” You ask, and he swallows the last of the laxative with a wince.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he confesses. Then, he sighs and turns to face you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know.

You’re still upset.

“Listen,” he begins, carding a massive hand through his hair. “About tonight. It was absolutely nothing you did. It was my fault, and my annoyance and attitude had nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” you sigh, but there’s an unconvinced lilt in your voice.

“I wanted this to be a perfect night, I wanted it to go so well-“

“Rinnie?”

“And I’m sorry, about my silence in the restaurant,” he sniffles, big hands pressing against his face and rubbing roughly. “The chef was supposed to put it on our cakes and his little rat waiter messed it up, and-“

“Put what on our cakes?”

“YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING!” He groans in complete agony. “Your ring! Fuck! I tried so hard to make the perfect proposal, and I just wanted it to be beautiful-“

“My… my ring?”

“Uh…. Yeah?”

“My engagement ring?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, and he feels like he’s going to upchuck every bit of food he’s ever eaten.

Though that may not be the worst thing at this point.

“You wanna marry me?” You wail, collapsing to your knees in excitement. He perks up slightly, slipping of his seat to join you on the floor.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he confesses. “God, I’ve… I’ve wanted to marry you for the past three years, I got the ring perfect four months ago.” He blinks out a line of tears to mimic yours, and you cup his cheeks in your trembling palms. “But every time I tried to propose, something went wrong, and I… I didn’t know how to do it anymore. I’m sorry baby…”

“Rintaro,” you say softly, chuckling around the your quivering voice. “I never needed a big proposal. Ever. All I ever want is for you to promise me we’ll be together. And that’s more than enough.”

His face softens before he lets a hand smack his face in obliviousness, disappointed in himself that he got so lost in trying to impress you that he almost didn’t.

“Put it on me!” You squeal, holding out your hand. He turns a scarlet red and looks away.

“I uh… I can’t.”

You deflate slightly, and he gives you an embarrassed smile. “Why not?” You whimper, emotionally fried from the rollercoaster he just put you on.

“I don’t have it.”

“What!”

“I mean, technically i do,” he says, gnawing his lip. “But I… uhm… I can’t give it to you yet. I uh… I need a few days. And… a few cleaners to look at it.” He gives you a shy chuckle and his toothy grin is mixed with frightened eyes, and your own widen. “The uhm… the ring was on the cake…”

Your hands clasp over your mouth, tears immediately drying and replacing with small, choked and stifled laughter.

“You didn’t,” you manage. He nods, uncomfortable. “Did… did you eat my ring, Rintaro?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Damn waiter gave us the wrong cakes!”

“AND YOU SWALLOWED IT?”

“I WAS NERVOUS, OKAY?”

“RINTARO!”

You two clutch each other on the cold kitchen floor as you laugh, heads knocking against each other as you steal kisses from between cackles.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says once you’ve both seemed to calm down, and he quickly pops on his feet to grab the bread on the counter. With the twist tie, he takes it off the bread and makes his way back to you. “Give me your hands.”

The tie only fits around the top part of your ring finger, and you sniffle softly at how silly and sweet this whole thing is.

“We’re gonna get married,” he says between an emotional wheeze. “And we’re going to grow old together, have our nine dogs and four cats.”

“No kids?”

“Ew gross.”

“Yeah, sure, as if you don’t bend to my every whim bro.” You shift slightly to rest your back against his chest, curling against his still sitting frame. “And our kids are going to love the Miyas-“

“Because you love the Miya’s. I have nothing to do with that.”

“As if Osamu’s not going to be your best man,” you scoff. He smirks and buries his face in your hair, listening to your words weave through his brain and calming him down from the disaster of a night.

Then, he hums, “you want to take my last name?” He asks, and you give him a small swat on the leg. “What! Im just asking!”

“Of course I’m going to take your last name,” you say, turning your head up to face him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, tearing up again when you nod.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

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screebyy · 1 day

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Part 6: The Summit Prev | Next (Soon™️) | Start

Two parts left! sorry to end on a lil cliffhanger of sorts. also sorry i'm going to continue to be very mean to jolyon. also also sorry i will not be finishing this before tfs launches lol 🥲

ID below cut like and subscribe etc

Panel 1: Wide shot of Crow and Jolyon sitting on a rock on the summit of a mountain, looking down at the dreaming city below. The sun is starting to rise over distant mountains, and the dreaming city is covered in taken essence, with black taken orbs hanging all around it. Jolyon is leaning forward with his arms crossed and his elbows resting on his knees, while Crow is leaning back on his hands. Jolyon: “Thanks for doing this with me.” Crow: “Of course. It’s been… really nice, catching up.” Jolyon: “Yeah…

Panel 2: Close up of Jolyon’s hand from the side. He is curling it into a tense fist where it’s resting on his bicep. Jolyon: “... Can I ask…”

Panel 3: Close up of Jolyon’s face in profile. He is staring straight ahead with a pained expression on his face as he speaks. Jolyon: “Why now?”

Panel 4: Side view of Crow as he turns to look at Jolyon. He has a curious expression on his face. Jolyon (offscreen): “A few years ago… I heard about what happened, with Savathun. That you had remembered your past life.”

Panel 5: Side view of Jolyon. He is turning away from the Crow, and his expression is not visible. Jolyon: “When you didn’t reach out… I guess I just assumed you hadn’t remembered me.”

Panel 6: Side view as Crow looks at Jolyon with a mournful expression. Crow: “I…”

Panel 7: Crow turns forward again, looking down at the ground with a sad expression. Crow: “I’m not sure I did, at first.” Panel 8: Flashback of the Radiant Accipiter, idling in empty space. Crow is visible through the windshield of the ship, he is hunched over in the pilot’s chair with his head in his hands while glint floats beside him. Crow (Present day): “He was so far gone at the end - whenever I tried to think about his life, it was like a bomb going off inside my brain.”

Panel 9: Close up of Crow looking down past the camera. He is clutching his face with both hands, one hand is tearing desperately at his hair while the other is covering his cheek, nose and mouth. He has a horrified, distant expression on his face, and a tear is running down his cheek. In the background, a cracked surface shows many scenes from Uldren’s rampage. One fragment shows a close up of Uldren’s eyes as he turns towards the viewer with a hateful expression. Black rivulets of corruption are flowing from his eyes like tears, and the sclera of his corrupted eyes are black and seeping into the iris. Another fragment shows several dead corsairs lying on a stone floor in pools of blood. Another fragment shows a close-up of Cayde-6’s face, staring up at the viewer defiantly. His face plates have been badly damaged. The final fragment shows a close up of Uldren’s hand holding the Ace of Spades hand cannon, with smoke coming out of the barrel. Crow (Present day): “Nothing made sense, all I could feel was… what he felt. The things he did…”

Panel 10: A wide shot of Crow lying in bed, bundled up in his blanket. The room is dark, and a window is open, with bright sunlight shining in through the curtains. Crow (Present day): “But eventually…”

Panel 11: A close up of Crow holding Glint with one hand. Glint’s eye is closed, and he is humming gently. Crow (Present day): “I was able to start picking up the pieces.” Panel 12: Closer shot of Crow lying in bed. He is clutching Glint against his chest with one hand, rubbing his shell gently. With his other hand, he is holding a golden ring on a chain. He is staring blankly at the ring with a sad, tired expression. Crow (Present day): “To put together who he had been before.” Panels 13, 14, 15, and 16: A sequence of fuzzy, incomplete memories. The first is a shot of Jolyon in his uniform, from his waist to his chin. Most of his face is not visible, but he seems to be scowling. He is partially obscured by a misty, dark blue background. The second memory is a shot of Uldren lying back in green grass on a sunny day, eating raspberries. He is looking to his right, at someone just offscreen. He is laughing lightly, and looks peaceful as he holds a raspberry up to his mouth. The third memory is a shot of Jolyon’s dark blue Supremacy rifle leaning against a wall, next to where his green cloak is hanging. The fourth memory is a partial shot of Uldren resting on his hands and knees above Jolyon, who is not visible. Uldren is shirtless, and a golden ring is hanging from a chain around his neck. Jolyon’s hand is reaching into frame, holding the ring in his palm where it hangs. Uldren is smiling down at him warmly. Crow (Present day): “You were… A puzzle that took me a long time to figure out. A face I couldn’t quite name, a feeling I couldn’t quite place.”

Panel 17, 18, and 19: Another sequence of memories, which are more clear than before. The first panel is a head-on shot of Uldren, staring up past the viewer with a confused, strained expression. The scleras of his eyes are black, and the corruption is starting to seep out of them. The second panel is a head-on view of Jolyon, staring down at Uldren with an intense, searching expression. The third panel is of Uldren, who is looking away to scratch at his right eye with the heel of his hand. His hands are cuffed together at the wrist, and he looks frustrated, and distracted. Crow (Present day): “When it finally came together, And I realized how terrible he had been to you… I was too ashamed.” Panel 20: In the present day, Crow is leaning forward, and staring distantly down at the ground, while Jolyon watches him talk. Crow: “To let himself fade away like that, to forget you, while you were standing right in front of him…”

Panel 21: Close up of Jolyon as he looks away, and stares sadly into the distance. His brow is furrowed and he looks conflicted and tired. Crow (offscreen): “I didn’t think I could face you, after that. I didn’t think you’d want me to.” Jolyon: “...”

Panel 22: front view of Crow and Jolyon sitting side by side. Crow is leaning forward heavily, looking down at the ground with a grim, slightly frustrated expression. Jolyon is turning slightly towards Crow, though he is not looking directly at him and is expression is sad and distant. Jolyon: “What changed your mind?”

Panel 23: Close up of Jolyon’s face. He looks slightly surprised and is looking directly at Crow, offscreen. Crow (offscreen): Petra.

Panel 24: Shot of Crow as he hunches away from Jolyon, rubbing his right arm self-consciously. He is glancing out of the corner of his eyes back at Jolyon with an uncertain, guilty expression. Crow: “Last week, hunting Riven’s eggs took us… Somewhere that reminded me of you.”

Panel 25: Close up of Jolyon as he watches Crow out of the corner of his eyes. His brow is slightly furrowed, and he looks uncertain.

Crow (offscreen): “After we got back, I asked Petra how you had been, and…”

Panel 26: Close up of Crow. He is smiling lightly, staring down at the ground with a distant, soft expression and blushing faintly. Crow: “She talked some sense into me. Reminded me that I shouldn’t just assume you were better off never knowing me. That I at least owed you the chance to make that decision for yourself.”

Panel 27: front view of Crow and Jolyon sitting side by side. Crow is turning back towards Jolyon with a soft smile. Jolyon is also looking at Crow, smiling faintly. Crow: “I guess… some things haven’t really changed, right?” Jolyon: “Ha.”

Panel 28: Close up of Jolyon’s face from the side. He is staring straight ahead again, smiling faintly. Jolyon: “Right…”

Panel 29: Jolyon looks slightly down, his smile has fallen and his brow has furrowed as his expression grows distant. Dark, scratchy marks are bleeding into the edge of the panel, fading out the edges. Jolyon: “...”

Panel 30: extreme close up of Jolyon’s eye, squeezed shut. Dark scratchy marks surround the panel, creating a chaotic background and bleeding into the panel. Voice offscreen: “Jolyon…”

Panel 31: A younger version of Jolyon turns towards the camera from the side, with a confused expression. His hair is pulled back into a bun, and he is wearing a light green sweatshirt. The background is faded purples and blues, and Jolyon is outlined in surreal surreal shades of pink and purple. The panel is outlined by dark scratch marks, spiky thorns, and black flowers outlined in vibrant shades of pink, purple, and green. The text bubbles appear to be glitching out, with scratchy fragments coming out of them. Voice offscreen: “Why’d you do it?” Jolyon: “What?”

Panel 32: Shot of Uldren sitting on a rock, from behind. He is leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees, and staring down at the ground. His hair is falling over his face, and his expression is not visible. The surreal lighting continues in this panel, and Uldren is outlined in pinks and purples with the panel being surrounded by dark scratch marks, spiky thorns, and black flowers outlined in bright colors. Uldren: “Why did you come with us, Jol?”

#lol lmao 'last week' bestieeeee that was 6 months ago!!#& yeah im still fixated on that one mention of an unexplained ring uldren had from like 4 years ago. what of it #destiny 2 #crowlyon #jolyon till #crow destiny #uldren sov #cw blood #cw hallucinations #me: im gonna keep this simple so i can finish this comic faster. also me: i can fit five whole panels into this one panel sick

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elia-the-bibliophile · 7 hours

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Stomach Bug (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 1,4k

Max hardly ever gets sick, but when he does, he turns into a complete drama king.

Y/N stepped into the apartment, immediately enveloped by an unsettling darkness. The silence was even more disturbing; the usual hum and glow from Max's sim racing setup were conspicuously absent. Her fingers fumbled for the light switch, fear gripped her heart. When she finally found it, the overhead lights flickered on, casting harsh shadows around the vacant living room.

“Max?” she called out, voice tinged with worry. She received no response, only the quiet pressing back at her. Panic bubbled up, and she hurried through the apartment, her mind racing with possibilities.

In the hallway leading to their bedroom, she tripped over something soft and warm. Looking down, she saw Jimmy and Sassy, their two cats, pacing restlessly. They meowed mournfully, their eyes reflecting the same concern she felt.

With a sense of dread, she pushed open the bedroom door. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the outside world. The only light came from a small bedside lamp casting a feeble glow over the disarrayed sheets.

On the bed, Max was curled up in a fetal position, his body trembling slightly. His face was buried in his arms, as if shielding himself. A pained groan escaped his lips.

“Max, oh my god, what's wrong?” she whispered, rushing to his side. She knelt on the floor, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was clammy and feverish.

Max flinched at her touch but didn't move away. “It's... it's the end,” he mumbled dramatically, his voice strained and barely audible. “I'm dying, schatje.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Dying? Max, what happened?” her tone firm but filled with concern. She brushed a few strands of hair that are sticking to his forehead, her fingers lingering to check his temperature. He was burning up.

“It's my stomach,” he groaned, shifting slightly to peer at her with one eye, the other still hidden in his arm. “And I have a fever. I'm pretty sure this is it. Tell the team... tell them I fought bravely.”

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at his theatrics. “Max, honey, you have a stomach flu and a fever. You're not dying.”

“This is no ordinary flu,” he moaned, clutching his stomach. “I can feel my organs plotting against me. They're staging a coup!”

Despite her worry, a chuckle escaped her lips. “A coup, really? Let me get you some medicine and water. Have you taken anything yet?”

“No,” he replied, his voice pitiful. “I was too weak to move. I thought I should conserve my energy for my final moments.”

“Your final moments are a bit overdramatic,” she said, shaking her head with a fond smile. “I'll be right back.”

Oh, if only everyone could witness how ridiculously cute Max Verstappen looks when he's under the weather.

Jimmy and Sassy jumped onto the bed, curling up near Max's feet as if trying to offer their own comfort. Their presence seemed to soothe him slightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

Y/N returned with a glass of water and some medicine. “Here, take these,” she instructed, helping him sit up. He took the pills with exaggerated effort, making a face as he swallowed them.

“Ugh, even the medicine tastes like defeat,” he grumbled.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. “The mighty Max Verstappen, laid low by a stomach bug. The world will mourn.”

He cracked a small, weak smile at her teasing. “Stop it, or I'll vomit just to spite you.”

“You're going to be fine,” she reassured him, peppering a few kisses on the side of his head.“Just rest and let the medicine do its job.”

Max sighed dramatically, closing his eyes. “If I don't make it... remember me as I was. Fast, fearless, and full of life.”

Y/N laughed softly while adjusting his pillow and blanket. “I'll remember you as you are: a dramatic, lovable idiot who will be just fine by morning.”

Max managed a weak smile. “I suppose that's acceptable.”

────────────────────────────────────

Y/N watched Max until his breathing slowed and he finally drifted off to sleep. His dramatic groans and exaggerated expressions faded into peaceful slumber, leaving a quiet calm in the room. She smiled softly before turning her attention to Jimmy and Sassy, who were still perched near Max's feet, their eyes wide and attentive.

“Alright, you two,” Y/N whispered, her tone mock-serious. “I need you to keep an eye on our drama king here while I go make dinner. Think you can handle it?”

Jimmy meowed as if to say, “We got this,” while Sassy flicked her tail, as if acknowledging the weighty responsibility.

Y/N chuckled. “Good. If he wakes up and starts acting like he's on his deathbed again, just give him the 'you're being ridiculous' look. You know the one.”

With one last affectionate glance at Max, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen.

As she chopped vegetables, she couldn't help but imagine Jimmy and Sassy as tiny, furry nurses. Jimmy, with a stern expression, patrolling the foot of the bed like a guardian, and Sassy, lounging elegantly, occasionally casting a disapproving glance at Max whenever he stirred or muttered in his sleep.

The thought made her giggle, and she shook her head. “What a day,” she murmured, stirring a pot of carrot soup on the stove.

As she continued cooking, Y/N kept an ear out for any signs of distress from the bedroom. The occasional muffled groan floated down the hallway.

Dinner was almost ready when she heard a particularly loud groan followed by a meow that sounded suspiciously like Jimmy trying to shush Max.

“Looks like my reinforcements are doing their job,” she said with a laugh, pouring the delicious smelling soup into bowls. She added some bread to a plate and carried the tray carefully back to the bedroom.

Entering quietly, she saw that Max was still asleep, albeit with a slightly dramatic frown on his face. Jimmy was curled up by his side, looking very pleased with himself, while Sassy had taken up residence on Max's pillow, one eye half-open in lazy vigilance.

“You two did great,” Y/N whispered, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "Now let's see if we can get him to eat something."

As she gently woke Max, he blinked groggily, his eyes focusing on her. “Schat... what time is it?”

“It's half past eight,” she replied softly.

Max groaned, his face scrunching up in dismay. “Oh no, I was supposed to play padel with Lando, Alex, and the others tonight. I forgot to cancel on them.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head affectionately. “Don't worry about it. How about I call Lando for you and let him know you're out of commission for the night?”

Even in his sickness, Max managed to give her an incredulous look. “Why do you even bother asking? You can open my phone anytime. You're practically the other half of my brain.”

She laughed, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his phone. “I just like to be polite, you know? Didn't want to intrude on any top-secret racing strategies.”

Max chuckled weakly, then winced as his stomach reminded him of its displeasure. “Trust me, no strategies. Just lots and lots of cat memes.”

Unlocking his phone, Y/N scrolled through his contacts until she found Lando's number. She pressed the call button, holding the phone to her ear while keeping an eye on Max.

After a few rings, Lando's cheerful voice answered, “Max! Where are you, mate?”

“Hi, Lando, it's actually Y/N,” she said. “Max is feeling pretty terrible right now. Stomach flu and a fever.”

“Oh no, poor Max.” Lando replied, his tone immediately concerned. “Is he going to survive, or do we need to send an ambulance?”

Max, overhearing the conversation, groaned dramatically from the bed. “Tell him I'm fighting valiantly but I don't know if I'll make it.”

Y/N relayed the message, rolling her eyes playfully. “He says he's fighting valiantly but might not make it.”

Lando laughed. “Classic Max. Tell him to rest up and we'll catch him next time. And give him our best.”

“Will do, Lando. Thanks,” Y/N said, ending the call. She turned back to Max, who was watching her with a tired but grateful smile.

“You always know how to handle everything,” he said softly.

She smiled, setting his phone back on the nightstand and handing him the bowl of soup. “That's what I'm here for. Now, eat this. It's carrot soup, made with love.”

He took the bowl, looking at her with genuine affection. “Thanks, schatje. You're the best. This smells lovely.”

As he eats, Jimmy and Sassy moved in closer, as if to supervise the meal. Y/N sat beside him, ready to keep his spirits high.

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steviewashere · 3 days

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Mirrors to the Soul

Rating: General CW: Past Parental Death, Grief/Mourning, Sick Parent, Stroke, Brief Homophobic Slur (Almost Forgot to Tag) Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Soft Eddie Munson, Soft Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Reflections, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Dialogue Heavy

Two fics in one day? Why, yes, I am insane.

🫂—————🫂 The air was chilling tonight. Sweeping by and prickling on Eddie’s cheek. Sky was clear. Except for the stars. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many, not all at once, not during a time like this. His lungs burn gently, the crackling of his cigarette a lull within the buzz of nocturnal mosquitos.

There’s nothing to do. Nowhere to be. The trailer’s roof is cold against his back. And his mind is wandering. To everything he could imagine. Dustin’s recent try at a Hellfire campaign, Mike’s new guitar hobby and how he’s actually good, Lucas’s attempt at passing Eddie the ball (only for the ball to not be caught and instead hit him square in the chest), Robin’s date with Vickie, and Steve’s snores after a long Family Video shift. Life’s actually decent. It’s warm in the community he’s created. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if it means losing his mom over and over and over again. The pain that was left. Her last goodbye. Which wasn’t really an exchange of words, but her eyes. Oh, her eyes.

Somebody is clambering up the side of the trailer. Thunking and hefting and panting slightly. And then, the top of Steve’s head is popping up. His hair askew, face slack, mouth glistening a bit with drool. “What’re you up here for?” Steve asks him sleepily.

“Thinking,” he answers softly. Opens up his non-smoking arm and gestures for Steve to come on over. Relishing in the way Steve’s head rests on his shoulder when he gets himself settled, the ability to tighten an arm over his broad shoulders, and the heat that radiates from him. “What’re you up here for?”

“Woke up,” Steve mumbles, “you weren’t there. Got worried.”

Eddie hums. “Sorry,” he whispers, “just got caught up in my thoughts. I’ll come back—“

“What’re you thinking about? Y’know, if you’re okay sharing.” Steve nuzzles his cheek into Eddie’s bony shoulder. His lips dragging over the threadbare t-shirt underneath them. The heat and plush quality of them felt.

“Not an exact thing, really,” Eddie answers honestly. “Just sorta…I dunno. Let myself be proud of Mike and Dustin. Remembered the pain of that basketball Lucas tossed at me. Got excited about the juicy details I’ll get from Robin later. Was thinking of how nice it is to hear you sound asleep after a long, grueling day.” He cups his hand over Steve’s right shoulder. Pressing it into his shirt, dragging it down to his bicep, and back up to his neck. Lays his palm flat against the exposed skin there. Frowning, though Steve can’t see him, at the temperature. “Mm, you’re warm. You feeling okay?”

Steve nods sluggishly. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “just…y’know me. Space heater.”

Gently, Eddie tucks his head down to land a quick kiss to Steve’s forehead. Feeling how Steve scrunches his eyebrows, then raises them in contentment. He reaches out his left hand blearily to the extra space on the roof, puts out his cigarette, and then wraps his now free hand on the middle of Steve’s back. Pulls him in a little closer and looks back up at the spatter of stars.

“Wayne…Wayne asked me if you’ve talked about your mom at all,” Steve says slowly. An edge of confusion to his words. “Told him no. He thought that it was weird. Is—Should you be talking about your mom or something?”

Tracing a finger down the ridges of Steve’s spine, Eddie makes a non-committal grunt. “I mean…I don’t have to,” he states quietly, “it’s just. It’s the anniversary I came home to Wayne. Her funeral.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. “Oh. I—I’m sorry, Eds. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t—“

“Shh, sweetheart,” he coos. Runs his palms soothingly up and down Steve’s torso until he goes lax against his shoulder again. “I know you didn’t know, it’s okay. I was already thinking about her anyway.”

Steve goes extremely quiet for several minutes. Enough for the mosquitos to take that as invitation, to buzz and hum louder. For the neighborhood stray dog to start digging at the chainlink fence. The neighbors a few trailers down to start up another argument. He eventually sighs, though. Lays his palm over Eddie’s belly and strokes his thumb in counter-clockwise circles. “What were you,” he asks hesitantly, “what were you up here thinking about?”

Eddie takes a hesitant gulp. Hopes Steve doesn’t hear it. Or the shutter of his next inhale. The sudden lurch in his chest. “Oh…I thought about her eyes.”

“Her…Her eyes?”

Instinctively, Eddie squeezes them closer together. As if Steve’s his childhood teddy bear. “Yeah,” he breathes, “her eyes.” His throat clicks with his next swallow. And briefly, he wishes he didn’t have to keep explaining himself. Or the nature of his parents. But he was already thinking about her. God, he was thinking about her. “Have you ever—you probably haven’t—but you ever see somebody say goodbye without using their words?”

“Sure,” Steve says quietly, “Honestly, Billy had this look to him before he…I couldn’t care at the time. But I—That look haunts me. Defeat, I think. It was the towel being thrown in, y’know?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, it’s like defeat. It’s…I think it’s one of the worst ways somebody can look at a person. I think somebody who looks like that knows, too.

“It’s weird. She was sick on and off for years. Just had a slew of health issues. Blood pressure and strokes and things like that. So, her…Watching her go shouldn’t have been a surprise. I’d been expecting it for a long time. Like so long, in fact, that I always had this motto about her: “She’s going to go, so you need to be ready.” That’s what I used to tell myself.”

“Eddie,” Steve mumbles, “that’s—“

“Awful?” He questions softly. “I know. But when someone enters your life and you build your whole world around them and then they just—

“She didn’t care, is the thing. Didn’t care for herself. Didn’t try. Didn’t want to most days. It was always this—this thing with her. I’d help her sort out her pills, I’d be the one to put her to bed on her worst days, I was always there to hold her hair back or to wipe her skin or to just make sure she laughed. But…Some days it just felt like she didn’t put in the effort,” he explains fiercely, yet quietly. For a moment, he takes a deep, strangling breath. Letting it go just as he presses firmly on Steve’s shoulders, as he lays his cheek on Steve’s freshly cleaned hair, and recalibrates.

Steve’s hand lays itself heavily on his chest. Thumb working overtime. “Take your time,” he murmurs, “I’m listening.”

Eddie nods because he’s still finding his words. Swallowing down the bad ones. Receding the anger that overtakes him a lot of the time when she’s the subject. Hates that it’s his first reaction. Loves it because for the first few months after her, he felt nothing.

He continues, “On her last day, I wasn’t even with her. I’d been at school. And then I went to a friend’s house to play some card games and hang out. I had—I remember calling her at the school, using the payphone. Putting in the last of my lunch money so I could just ask for her permission.

“I also remember not saying bye. Or saying how much I love her. Or that I love her, matter of fact. Just rushed out the question, hung up when she said yes. Followed my friend to the bus. Didn’t go home for several hours.” He’s always wondered if he’d gone home immediately, if she would’ve held out longer. If she would’ve been the one to unlock the door and usher him inside. If she would’ve had a tv show on and her wheelchair parked in front of it, if he would’ve been on the couch eating a stupid mayo and turkey sandwich, if they would’ve laughed themselves silly.

If she would’ve kissed his head later that night. And they would say their ‘I love you’s and she would’ve not—

“I came home and she was having a stroke,” Eddie confesses quietly. The words like plucking glass from a deep wound. And that’s sort of what it is, he supposes. Her loss like a still healing scar on his heart. Steve pats his chest like he knows. Maybe he does, Eddie wonders, maybe he always knew. “Dad wanted me to help her into her chair. But I—You’ve seen me, Steve. I’m scrawny. Like I’m not…I’m not like you. I don’t have all that bulk, the muscle to lift much. Like I can lift amps, those are only twenty pounds or so if they’re bigger, but she’s a whole person. I wasn’t going to be able to. But I tried.

“I tried, is the thing. Really, I did.”

Steve kisses his shoulder. “I believe you, Eds,” he whispers, easy as that.

Eddie closes his eyes briefly. The tears don’t want to rescind this time, but he’s caught up in his own words, unable to make them stop. “I tried,” he says again. “I was standing in front of her. And her arms…She kept pointing at things, but I didn’t understand and I—I could only look at her. Couldn’t really breathe. I couldn’t get my words out correctly. So I just stared.

“And she…She looked back, Steve. My mama looked back at me.

“Those thirty seconds that we—“ He swallows heavily, choking back on the steady stream of tears making their sure way down his face. Lets himself breathe. Breathe. “—Those thirty seconds held everything. All the words we couldn’t say. I saw them manifest in her gaze. All those apologies for bad arguments we’d have. The soft okays we’d exchange when I needed to help her. Even the stupid inside joke she had about how Karen Carpenter was my childhood celebrity crush.” Despite himself, he smiles. Washes in Steve’s little snort. Because it’s true, he did have a crush on Karen Carpenter—how his mom just knew, Eddie’ll never know. “All this to say, she told me that she loved me. She gave me the same eyes she did when I’d have night terrors. When I’d cry about how scary the dark was. When I’d come home all swollen and beaten up, thinking dirty about how much of a fag I was; when she had held me and told me it was okay, as long as I was still her little Teddie Bear.

“Oh, I was,” Eddie shakily breathes out. “I was everything to her, I think. Because she was my everything. Stevie, my mama was my whole world. And I—I could only stare at her when she needed my help the most. I wonder, y’know, if she was okay with me gaping and shaking and afraid in that moment.

“I wonder if she looked at me and instead of seeing her freshly teenaged son, she saw her newborn baby boy between her arms. With big scared eyes. And tears on his face. I wonder if she…I wonder if she wanted to reach up with her limp arms and caress my cheeks and coo.” He sniffs. Swallows down his snot, disgusting as it is compared to all of this. And sighs. Says softly, “There was this one night where she had a really bad, explosive argument with my dad. I must’a been four or five? Woke up in the middle of the night to them screaming, kind of drifting, half-awake. And she. My mama opened my bedroom door and pulled back my blanket and crawled in with me. Lay right by my side, held my hands, was crying all soft and quiet.

“I asked her if she was okay. She told me she was fine. I asked her if she was mad at Daddy. She said yes. I asked her if she wanted to cuddle. And she just held me in her arms and I held her back. And when she pulled away, though her hands were still on my back, she looked at me and said: “I love you.” Because I was a curious little shit, I could only ask, “Forever and ever?” She nodded anyway. Answered, “Forever and ever until time runs out.””

Eddie splays his palm between Steve’s shoulder blades. A mirror to his mom’s right hand on his own back. Kisses him again because he’s there and tangible and alive and warm. Whispers, “I wonder if she looked at me in our final moments together and realized time was running out, y’know? If she…if she wanted to promise forever anyway. I would’a let her, is the thing. Because there’s no way that her and I aren’t infinite.”

Slowly, Steve sits up. Leans down on his left elbow, hovering over Eddie. He carefully swipes his free hand down the side of Eddie’s face. Wiping away at the tears, caressing his skin, gazing softly down at him. “Y’know what I think?”

“Hm?”

Another soft pet to the side of his face, this time Steve’s knuckles grazing his skin. “I think,” Steve whispers, “I think you two are. I think…That time doesn’t stop moving. And with the way you talk about her, it’s clear the love lives on.”

Eddie closes his eyes. Drenching in the thought. The sincere truth behind it.

He won’t tell Steve this, but there was a part of him that was ready to welcome his mama into his body. That it was for safety, protection, a sanctuary. In their final moment together, he had wanted to climb back inside his mother’s body or to open his own and fit her around his heart. That he imagined his body like a tomb—and her sanctuary, the womb. That they were one in the same. In that final moment, they were the same.

“At her funeral,” he murmurs, “we had an open casket.” He opens his eyes, searching Steve’s face for uncertainty.

“You can tell me, Eds,” Steve responds, coaxing. “I’m listening, baby.”

Eddie softly nods. Leans into the warmth of Steve’s palm still on his face. Breathes out. Breathes in. “I didn’t want to look,” he confesses quietly. “Part of me was afraid. But…I think most of me just didn’t want to accept her as gone. So I—Wayne had crouched down in front of me, we were in the closest pew inside this crazy echoing church, and he placed his hands on my knobby knees. His hands were heavy and his face was tired. He still had most of his hair, but he looked older, like he does now.

“But he told me that they were going to close the casket if I wanted to say goodbye. I just shook my head. I couldn’t bear the thought. That the last time I saw her, I couldn’t speak. And I didn’t want our last time to be this…this moment where she wouldn’t listen.

“So, when I think of her now, I think of her eyes. Of every single thing we’d ever done. How she held me. How we danced. Our music. The peals of laughter across the living room. Every argument. All the hugs in which we cried and we were sorry and how warm she was. She was always so warm.

“You wanna know something funny, sweetheart?” He asks with levity.

Steve peers softly at him. Holding him. Smiling that little gentle thing he does. “What is it?” He murmurs.

“She used to tell me that she was okay when I asked about how warm she was. Said that, “Oh, y’know. I’m a space heater, Teddie.” And I just think…I think—Sometimes I look and listen to you and I imagine her, just this essence she had. This…

“Her love. Because she loved everything, anything that she could. Held onto things. Caressed them. Kissed ‘em. And if I ever needed assurance that love is forever, I look onto you and I see her and…And I dunno. You reach me in ways only blood knows how, and I know that with you, my world is complete.” He sniffs. Breathes this giddy chuckle of a thing. Steve’s full attention is on him, a little heartbroken, but a lot sincere. “All this to say that I…I didn’t really talk about her today because—Love takes new shape when you need it again. I listened to you snore for a bit earlier before I came out here and I knew I was going to be okay.

“That we were going to be okay. Everybody’s alive. And even if my mom isn’t, her love is. She’s in everything.” He reaches up his right hand from where it fell away from Steve’s shoulders, instead cupping his face. Thumb tracing over his cheekbone, over a raised white scar from a previous fight. Fingers skating down to his neck, the exposed circle from the demobat tail and the vines. Up and around to his back again where he’s got scars like angel wings. Lifts his head and leans up, the lightest press of his lips on Steve’s. Between them, he breathes, “I love you.”

“Jesus,” Steve chokes out wetly, “I love you, too.”

Eddie hums pleased. “I just needed to say it. I never want to forget again. You make me remember. You make me selfless, Steve. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

🫂—————🫂 Oops, thought about my mom today.

#stranger things #steddie #Eddie Munson & Eddie Munson's Mother #eddie munson #steve harrington #angst and hurt/comfort #past parental death

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joseopher · 2 days

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Hadestown AU

GUYS I JUST FINISHED HADESTOWN AND I CAN'T STOP IMAGINING THE AFTG CHARACTERS IT SO HERE IS MY HADESTOWN/AFTG AU Kevin = Persephone

I mean this is obvious, isn't it???

Both Kevin and Persephone struggle with drinking problems

Both Kevin and Persephone value their freedom despite still mourning/caring for those who bind them

Both Kevin and Persephone are both girlbosses that allow nothing to stand in their way

Except when it comes to certain people they no longer stand up for themselves as they normally would (trauma likely but also sometimes care and compassion)

I love how Yes, Hades brings Persephone to the underworld too early BUT SHE LETS HIM (/affectionate)

His protectiveness over Jean mirrors Persephone's protectiveness over Eurydice and his admiration for Jeremy mirrors Persephone's admiration of Orpheus

Kevin in a dress

Andrew = Hades

I was debating on this one because Hades could easily be Riko but since my reading of Hades is sympathetic and more protective than controlling I felt Andrew was better

in this au it's less Andrew forcing Kevin to do anything than Kevin hiding and feeling safer with Andrew instead of fighting or dealing with his own issues

Andrew is enabling this behaviour by not allowing Kevin to leave his protection

It's not good for either of them and breeds resentment

Andrew has similar fears as Hades, that Kevin won't be safe outside Hadestown, that Kevin will leave him for someone that isn't damaged and cold, that Kevin deserves more than him

This leads to him always bringing Kevin back earlier no matter that he leads to a longer winter and hurts the mortals

While Kevin's gone he tries to make the underworld nicer for him (though he'd never admit it) but basically inventing capitalism like Hades does

He would never force someone into the underworld tho, always making deals so they DID agree to it even if it sucks

Eurydice = Jean

I mean do I have to explain this one???

Jean has seen how the world IS with all its cruelty and unfairness

HE IS NO STRANGER TO THE WORLD, NO STRANGER TO THE WIND

But when he meets Jeremy who sees the world for what it COULD BE: kind and fair, HE STARTS TO BELIEVE THAT DREAM TOO

He is a survivor and after learning not to give up on his life he will do anything it takes to survive

When he is left to die in a storm and meets Andrew, he finds he wants to live but is riddled with doubt and nihilism that Jeremy would look out for someone like him so he accepts his deal to join Hadestown despite knowing it means never seeing Jeremy again

He quickly changes his mind after discovering what life is like without literal and metaphorical sunlight

Orpheus = Jeremy

LITERALLY SUNLIGHT GUY

CAUSES SUNLIGHT WITH HIS AWESOME SINGING

Orpheus is poor like Eurydice but still believes in the goodness of the world, Jeremy still has trauma like Jean but still believes in the goodness of the world

literally "COME HOME WITH ME🤩☀️" "...who are you?🤨🐦‍⬛" "THE MAN WHO'S GONNA MARRY YOUUU😚☀️" coded fr

Through his song and hope, inspires Andrew and Kevin to fall in love again and the world comes back into tune😌

SPRING COMES AGAIN

Those are my main headcannons, idk about the rest of the cast though so if you have ideas lemme know!

#kandrew #jerejean #kevin day #andrew minyard #jeremy knox #all for the game #jean moreau

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allatariel · 18 hours

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WIP Wednesday!

@gordopickett tagged me earlier this week—thank you <3—and I planned to do it today and then of course forgot until the evening. I should have just done it and scheduled it to post today, but I had hoped to work more on Love at the Drafting Table and post that. Alas—I talk about a project and then life conspires to keep me from working on it!

Instead, below is an older, very rough snippet from another languishing, unfinished WIP, The Calculus of Grief, written at the end of April.

Tagging: @madamairlock, @littlelindentree, @caitylove, @shu-of-the-wind, @fireandsoup

More tags (split to work around broken tumblr tagging): @imsfire2, @cryscal, @air-mechanical, @youreorangeyoumoron, @wanderleave

And anyone else who might want to <3

Though the school year had barely just begun, it was actually still a month out from the second anniversary of Sergei’s first day teaching at Spiro T. Agnew High School. October 1, 1995 felt like a lifetime ago. To be honest, he tried to think about the time before as little as possible. But today was a different anniversary: September 4. Today it was harder than most days to ignore the gaping hole in the center of his life. Two years ago today he and his family had landed in Germany. After an hour of debriefing and setting the wheels in motion, of letting hope run wild and selecting a name to bear during their transition, he had called Margo from his hotel room. He had been overjoyed to see her, and when he hung up, his mother had joined him from the adjoining room where his father slept, with his sisters and their families resting safely down the hall. She had asked him about this woman who had saved him, who so clearly held the heart of her firstborn, her only son. So, Sergei had told her their story. For the first time in his life, he was free to tell his mother about the woman he had been in love with for well over ten years. Hours later, when the news reached them, she had pulled him sobbing into her arms as she had when he was small, before the births of his sisters. That was the only time he had given into the despair of losing her. He was trying to live, to stay safe as she had told him. To keep his family safe. And the only way he could manage to do that, to go on, was to leave it all behind. But then just last night he had seen on the news that the Sojourner 1 astronauts and Mars-94 cosmonauts had finally returned to Earth. After their nearly two year ordeal, the world joined in their joy and relief as the survivors were reunited with their loved ones. Sergei had watched Rolan Baranov, the cosmonaut turned astronaut—a defector like himself—be reunited with his American wife and son. His wife who had survived the bombing of JSC. Unlike Margo. Sergei honestly wasn’t sure how he’d made it into work at all. “Mr. Bezukhov?” Principal Alice Nikolsky—not Nikolskaya—called as she knocked on the door of the classroom. “We have a new student for your homeroom. She’s just transferred up from Huntsville, Alabama.” A young girl stepped into the doorway, her pale orange hair falling around wire rim glasses and shadowing her pale freckled face. She looked up, her blue eyes so like his mother’s, his own catching him already off guard as Alice introduced her, “Madison Morgan.” Seryozha, if you do not let yourself mourn her, she will haunt you forever. His mother’s plea rose in his mind as he took in this child, bouncing nervously on balls of her feet. In another life they could have had a daughter who looked like this girl.

#for all mankind #fam #margo madison #sergei nikulov #margo x sergei #sergei x margo #tag meme #wip wednesday #my writing #the calculus of grief #wip #work in progress #breaking my own heart #this is so ridiculously melodramatic #this needs so much work and isn't even half done #i have not been able to focus to save my life #i have adhd #actually audhd

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verdemoun · 22 hours

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how the flip does arthur cope with no dutch?? for the first time in so so so long there is no dutch??

oh ouch thank you for reminding me what a question. this is high honor helped john escape arthur. an arthur who died alone because dutch walked away but he died holding onto the relief that dutch didn't go with micah. maybe dutch had a chance, maybe dutch could save himself

hosea and bessie silently agree they need to protect him from that knowledge for as long as possible and for just barely long enough arthur isn't curious. they've gotten pretty decent at helping people adjust to the timewarp! you don't start with btw we're in the future we know about everything that happens to the gang and it's awful.

they focus on the happy things like hey we're okay, we're all together and we're here. things are really different there's a lot of noises and smells and things to get used to like cars are mainstream. going outside means the constant noise of engines instead of horses. sometimes you can hear electricity humming and that is a really weird noise but look how easy it is to make toast! so many foods that were like insanely difficult/risky to get like milk are just parts of life. you can put milk in coffee without it instantly coagulating it's okay that the milk been in the fridge for four days it tastes the same as when we opened it

arthur jumps like a cat for at least 2 weeks every time the toaster pops but if there's one routine he picks up insanely fast it's the simple joy of waking up and having warm toast with coffee in the morning. arthur morgan figuring out what he likes on toast. the first weekend where bessie is home and he wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes (not because bessie is a homemaker but because the gang are yet to prove themselves capable of using a gas stove (hosea will take over one day and be too passionate about the perfect fried egg)) i'm so sorry i'm getting off topic but the sheer joy he would get out of the smallest simple modern pleasures

arthur wanted to get out of the gang, in the end. he wanted to rest and it literally took him dying to get it because he was so loyal to dutch. it's a relief to rest even if he isn't physically drained and sore because of tb anymore but that mental fatigue is still there. he went through so much and now he gets to rest knowing that the people he had to mourn are there. he gets to sleep in a bed every night instead of it being something he pays for the luxury of. it's comforting dutch isn't there because it means dutch is still alive somewhere

but it's innevitable. hosea, bessie, annabelle, even lenny and sean, waiting in dreadful anticipation for the day arthur connects the dots that they aren't in an alternate universe they are in the gang's future and they know what happens to them. and dutch-

hosea has to be the one to tell him. knowing arthur tried, remembering the relief in arthur's face literally days after processing his own death as arthur explains at least dutch didn't go with micah because arthur tried and he thought dutch had a chance of becoming himself again. it's the worst conversation in his life - explaining to his unruly son that dutch did change but he went back to micah. he got the blackwater money. he started a new gang that were almost a parody of the o'driscolls and killed innocents like muriel scranton just for a chance to escape. that eagle flies's death meant so little to dutch that he went out of his way to continue exploiting the anger of displaced young native americans to make up his new gang. that a professor that worked with john wrote about the night dutch van der linde jovially told john that he was going to kill him for 'i don't know, sport, i guess?' and dutch died in 1911 reportedly killed by john himself (according to the bureau's reports)

god fellas would it be enough to make arthur cry? christ i still don't think he would be able to let himself cry in front of hosea and tries to be dismissive like well we all saw what he was becoming after blackwater. reminds me of something rains fall said about people not changing, just becoming more of who they always were. guess we (john and I) were right in the end, maybe we hadn't really known dutch at all and we were never who we thought we were (who dutch told us we were, we were never idealists, we were killers from the damned start)

but he does cry. alone. in the bedroom that sometimes felt so comfortably private but suddenly feels like more of a box than his wagon back at camp. the fact he still thinks of back at camp, like it's something he can go back to. he still misses dutch. old dutch. he misses camp before blackwater and they made a goddamn mess of everything and he cries because he misses it. he still can't doesn't want to believe that dutch, old dutch who still cared and believed in things before he started making bad choices and plans went wrong, was the same dutch that went back to micah after arthur tried so hard to convince him. his last words were still pleading for dutch to realize he changed and to change back into the infallable, god-like man he admired. finding out he wasted his breath.

#rdr2 timewarp au #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #good afternoon america can i interest you in some emotional devastation

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