#Continuous Planning

[gyonikubun]

10 years……

[velvetwyrme]

aHhh okay so the discussions of Titan!Megatron on @callsign-relic's blog have fully. FULLY taken over my brain and ive been drawing stuff for it for like the last few days nonstop

the tl;dr of this is AU is pretty much "what if Megatron got turned into a titan/cityformer as a form of penance/imprisonment and now roams the empty wasteland of Cybertron forever" plus "IDW Megatron has really fucked up internals so... what if that, but as a City?"

and of course since he's a Titan, that also means he has a cityspeaker... or three. One per sub-AU thing. Theres 3 options. 3 flavours of AU.

i have so much art to make. but in the meantime, for more info! check out the #titan au tag on Relic's blog :]!! (also uhh potential ns//fw warning for the link shfjbdkd)

Hi. My battery is running out once again so design and art notes get chucked here instead of an image.

The cuffs and collar are hardwired into Megatron, so I made the lights the same colour as his biolights!

I imagine that on the tops of his shoulders there are solar panels, even if you can't see them here lol.

I really wanted to keep the swirly bits on Megatron's chest from IDW

Other art notes:

The second picture with the seekers is (loosely) inspired by a discussion about whether or not Megatron gets visitors or not. I thought about who would visit him and well... I think this is as close as Starscream realistically gets to visiting him.

Extra detail about that piece is that Thundercracker and Skywarp are keeping watch from above! Also drawing Megatron took me like 8 hours because I was struggling with his legs really badly kshffkbfkdsbdk,, the background went much faster, funnily enough.

Optimus specifically isn't wearing his Autobot badge any more.

This isn't relevant in this series of images, but Ultra Magnus's eye markings are only on the Magnus armour. His other two forms do not have them :] (... until he begins to discard the armour, that is.)

Megatron is roughly 3200m/2 miles tall. Technically he could have clouds around his knees, but I thought this looked a little bit cooler lol.

Also, height chart! Him big. I didn't even attempt to put a human for scale because that'd be. near impossible with this scale.

[jaxon-exe]

I’ve seen that future…

If you had told Danny that joining the justice league would mean getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go to some stupid meeting, he never would have joined. Well that not fully true but he might have agreed to have a Zata tube installed in Amity. Even with how much he hates those things it still seems like a better idea now that he is flying through space trying to catch up with this stupid satellite. He was already late thanks to Skulker, which means he missed his perfectly times window to catch the watchtower in orbit so now he’s here playing catch up.

He didn’t even bother to slow down from his Mach 20 pace when he reached it. Just turned intangible and shot through the window into the meeting room. He was expecting to get scolded for being late. Or for his dramatic entrance but he was not expecting the other members to not notice him at all on account of them arguing.

Taking the golden opportunity to get out of a scolding, (he did not want to be the victim of another bat glare) he kept he’s mouth shut and floated down to Hal. Who seemed to be sulking off to the side of the fight. “Dude, what’s gonna on?”

“Batman,” the name was spat like a curse. “Had plans on how to take us all out.” Hal waved to the screen before him, inviting Danny to look.

“Really?” He floated to the screen, seeing files with each leaguer’s name. After a moment of hesitation, he clicked on his own.

“Yeah! Can you fucking believe this?” Hal growled out. “He planned on how to kill us all and is now acting like we’re the unreasonable ones.” Danny would normally be shaken by Hal’s anger. The guy so rarely got truly anger that it startled Danny every time. In that moment however he couldn’t bring his attention way from the screen. It was a decent plan. Risky, unlikely to work but decent. The fact Batman did this at all though. “You think you know a guy, right? Phantom?” Hal asked when he saw the ghost wasn’t responding to him.

Before he could continue his questioning Phantom shot off across the room. All leaguers that could keep up with the ghost speed braces from a fight when they saw him heading straight for Batman. They were anger with him yeah but they didn’t want him dead. They all knew Phantom was physically capable of doing that and had only seen him fly this fast in battle.

Their concern turned to confusion however when Danny stopped dead still just before the dark knight. Looking the man over before reaching to the side, Danny’s hand disappearing into a green vortex that appeared out of thin air. When he pulled back, a small metal box, no bigger than a watch box, laid in his hand as he presented it to Batman.

“This is a blood blossom.” The soft words cut through the tense silence. “It is one of, no it is the only thing that can kill me. For good.” Batman looked at the box, then at the boy. Determination sat on his brows despite the tired sadness that coloured his eyes. “If I…” His eyes broke away from the white lenses. “If I go bad. Please. I understand you don’t want to kill. So please, give this to someone who will kill me.”

No one moved for a moment as they processed the request. Emotions shifting wildly in them all. Superman’s landing on anger. “Why would you give him that?!” He stepped forward. “He already plans to kill us all why would you give him that?!”

“Because I’ve seen that future.” The conference was stated plainly. Melancholy waiting down on the boy as he turn to the others. “The realms are different than here.” His trembled. “Time works differently. You can walk into tomorrow and run into yesterday. Every possibly future exists within the realms.”

He scanned each heroes face as his voice harden. “I’ve seen what happens. I know what happens if I turn.” Danny took a deep breath as he met superman’s eyes. Gazing at him with eyes that saw more than what was in front of him. “I killed you first Clark.” It was stated as fact. Non of them could bring themselves to doubt him. “Then Diana. Then Hal. One by one each one of you were killed… by me.”

His breath came out frosted, his emotions making it hard to keep from freezing the watchtower as he turned back to Batman. “You survived the longest. Out of everyone here you got the closest to stopping me. In that reality however, you didn’t know about ghost. Didn’t know how to fight me.” He held out the box again. “Please, I can’t let that future happen.”

Everyone was stunned. Watching in silent shock as the horror of what Phantom said sunk in. Batman recovers quickest, slowly reaching out to grab that box which he now identified as being made of lead.

“Thank you Phantom.” There was more to those words than what it may appear. A silent reassess that the ghost picked up on.

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar Ch. 20: Preservation

Artwork by @mmm-asbestos ☆ Tarot card: The Hanged Man Read Ch. 20 on AO3 ☆ Unfamiliar Entire Work on AO3

[egophiliac]

Welp, after 4 long years, Dorm Riddle is no longer the card with the highest ATK stat in the game.

for legal reasons, we must remind you that this is only a simulation for the sake of practical experience, and also, you all signed the waivers

[yrsonpurpose]

#mood

[fantasyfawnart]

he just needs to be reminded that he’s doing a good job ok

[rcxdirectrix]

My gift for @jaylestial for secret solenoid @secretsolenoid-revived ! Drew a scene from their fic “Steady as We Burn” in Ao3. Not exact depiction but close enough. I hope you like it! ;u;

[dailymothanon]

I redesigned my redesign a little bit; mostly the wings cuz they were awkward and for some reason I forgot bat wings are their fingers; anyways I do have more ideas for him this time so this is also what it’s about 😛

What I imagine is that his bat wings Could be screens! (Btw the Shockwave here is just a filler design I don’t yet have any redesign ideas for him) Either or both screens in general, and or holographic screens; more specifically could be attributed to Haptic Holography, in which it could be interacted with and be felt via ultrasonic waves (from Soundwave) which the person of contact could feel it tactically although it being a hologram;;

both handy for meetings (sensors could be used to make users be able to interact with the imagery) And combat if you asked me, like imagine thinking you’re fighting someone yet you really aren’t, you’re just punching air but you don’t know that, and you have no way of winning cuz you’re getting hit by sound waves that Soundwave is emitting at the right time and place yet you cannot hear but you assume it’s your opponent hitting back, and your opponent never falters cuz they’re not real

This is also just a concept of his bridging system he had in Prime 🤔 I figured he could utilize a more silent and stealthy space bridge instead of that bright and loud bridge that Prime had going on 🙄 essentially Soundwave ripping a hole in a space to get from one side of a pocket to the other; but likely he wasn’t forged with the ability like Skywarp’s warping is, and instead he had it implemented to him later on 😌 and also yeah he has his typical telepathy/intense hearing abilities; tho I have yet to consider if he’d be able to do echolocation 🤔 purely for the ultra sonic stuff and being a bat probably

[tamayula-hl]

I can't tell how many times I enjoy drawing about the moment when Ominis meets an MC who is not a Slytherin🤣

[prince-less]

Thinking a lot about just how badly Raph was affected by his kraangification post-movie.

May or may not continue this (will update with a link to the next part if I do <3)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this comic was brought to you by Summer Sux Dot Org

[arachnidseyes]

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

LOVE AND CHANGE

Damian Wayne x Constantine! Reader

A/N: Previous. Angst? They're both new to relationships. Fluffy batfam at the end! wc: 2.5k

Damian’s eyes flitter to his windows for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He sighs and taps his pencil against the page of his sketchbook. It’s late, most of the manor is asleep, out patrolling or in the cave at this hour.

He tries not to imagine himself swinging from rooftop to rooftop, punching bad guys and saving civilians. It’s not his night. He’s sworn to start taking nights off. If he’s going to make this doctor thing work he has to show commitment. Anyone who’s done it knows how addictive the life of heroism can be.

He stares down at his sketch book, at the rough sketches of various muscle groups and their names interspersed with doodles of rabbits and doves. He steals another glance at the rain speckled windows before sighing and closing his sketchbook, shuffling his way to bed.

He almost makes it there before he hears a little tap tap tap on his balcony doors. He tenses for only a moment before being filled with tentative relief. It can only be one person, although the lack of a snarky remark from behind the door strikes him as strange.

He opens the door and there you are, Constantine’s spawn, standing on his balcony again. He gives you a quick once over and is relieved when he sees no blood seeping from your clothes, although you are completely soaked and shivering slightly. He’s about to berate you about getting sick when he finally looks at your face and freezes.

“I know you said not to come to the manor but I just… I just wanted to see you.”

Your voice cracks and you try wipe away the tears threatening to spill. Damian stares, honestly completely unprepared for this situation. He decides that getting you inside and out of the wet cold should probably be his first priority.

He pulls you inside, closing the balcony doors behind you. He carefully cups your cheek but you can't meet his eyes, only worrying him further. He searches your face for some kind of explanation and apparently he finds something because he asks very softly,

“Where's Constantine?”

You lean into his hold, keeping his hand on your cheek with your own.

“He’s fine. He’s with Zatanna but… It was a close call.”

With that confirmation Damian relaxes a little, he brings your cold body closer, his hand on your back. The gentleness makes you let out a little sob,

“He was right. If I hadn’t been there…It could have been really bad, Damian.”

Fresh tears are flowing. You lean into him and it’s like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. He feels it when he holds you, just tight enough that he hopes he can carry some of the weight for you. He doesn’t know if he should say something reassuring or not? “It’s okay” seems like a rather patronizing thing to say. He instead asks you,

“But the fight is over?”

Once he knows for sure that you aren’t in danger anymore he can figure out what to do next. You nod against his shoulder and he holds you tighter.

He hopes that his beating heart can do the talking for now, he hopes his touch is reassuring enough, that it makes up for the words he doesn’t have. Mentally chastising himself, isn’t going to help so he needs to make up for his lack of right things to say with the appropriate actions.

After a few minutes he gently lets go, urging you to sit on the end of his bed. He ruffles around his dresser, pulling out some pajamas. He hands them to you and then walks into the bathroom to fetch some tissues and a warm cloth, taking extra long to give you enough time to change.

When he enters the room again you’re looking out the windows at the rain, at least you aren’t shivering anymore. He wordlessly hands you the warm cloth and you use it to wipe your face and warm your cold cheeks. He props some pillows up on his headboard and, as gently as he can, pulls you back so you're huddled in his arms. You have no issue easing into him as he brings the blankets up around you.

“Tell me what happened, habibti.”

His voice is so soft, you can feel it through his chest. You shuffle into a comfier position.

“One of John’s old friends he made a pact with when he was younger came back to bite him in the ass. Same old demon shit. Always with their stupid pacts.”

You sniff angrily, Damian nods along like he understands your frustration.

“I sent the bastard back down. Got John out of the pact. Saved the day and everything.”

That’s all you say, all the explanation you have and you give it through choked breaths as your throat tries to keep in another sob. Tears spill more freely and Damian hands you a tissue from the box.

You give a small thanks and blow your frustrations out onto the white paper. You stare at it blankly. Damian gently takes your hand and says,

“Talk to me.”

It’s the closest thing to a plead you’ve ever heard from him and it might be exactly what you needed him to say.

“Tell me everything.”

The dam breaks. You know exactly what he means. There’s so much left unsaid between you, not necessarily because you thought you couldn’t say it but because it seemed redundant. You both know what this life entails, you’re uniquely equipped to understand each other with very little words. But its clear understanding doesn’t carry as much weight as you both thought it would. Knowing can't really exist without communication. You sniff again and huff,

“It was almost fun when I was little. I followed him around, I dressed like him, cussed like him. I thought I was mocking him. Thought it would be funny if the child he never wanted was just like him.”

Damian eases back into the sheets, keeping your hand loosely held in his with his other hand resting on your shoulder.

“It's like he was always stuck between keeping me away to keep me safe and keeping me close to keep me safe. I think he still is.”

You sigh deeply, your tears have simmered down leaving your eyes tired and your cheeks raw.

“When he showed up in Italy, that was the first time I’d seen him in months. We had a fight, like we always do but this time… He said I was just like my mother. Not that I would fucking know, he didn't even explain. And I know he just said it so I would finally leave. Find something normal to do with my life so I would be out of the danger that surrounds him. Which is stupid, I can find my own danger.”

Damian feels the urge to come up with a solution for you even though he knows you’re not asking for him to fix your problems. You just want him to listen. He finds that idea appealing, just being able to talk without the pressure of needing to fix it immediately. He stares at your hand as he says,

“It took me some time to understand why my father was so furious at my mother for the way she'd raised me. But I’ve also come to understand that her upbringing was… difficult as well. The anger is there but it doesn't burn like there's does, it just simmers. I still miss her, even when I shouldn’t. Because I know she loves me.”

He's not sure if this is what he's supposed to say but he finds himself not caring. He just wants to talk to you, he wants to listen and for you to listen back.

And you do. You talk softly about your childhoods, your parents, heroism, what hell was like and how it changes you. You just talk. For what feels like hours, and the weight lifts ever so slightly with every word and moment of silence in between. You find yourself dozing off periodically, and you can tell by how soft his voice is getting that he’s drifting as well.

“Before I left him with Zee…He said I was good.”

Damian tilts his head slightly towards you, letting out a small “hm?”

“My act, he said he liked it. Said it was good.“

You eyes close and you surrender to the warmth of his body next to you and the softness of his sheets. He smiles against your hair feeling your heart beat against his own.

─⋅⋆⁺.

The morning sun beams through the windows, unobstructed by the curtains Damian forgot to close the night before. The Wayne son lies in bed, propped up on his elbows, staring blankly at the intruder next to him.

He’s trying to figure out how to wake you up. He’s been figuring it out for maybe ten minutes now.

Should he nudge you awake or would that be awkward? He briefly thinks of kissing your forehead to wake you more gently but immediately cringes to himself, that would definitely be awkward. He thinks he just might let you sleep past breakfast until his saviour comes waltzing into the room.

Alfred the Cat slinks in through the creaked open window, which is left open specifically for him, and saunters over to the bed. With no further ceremony, the cat plops right down on top of your sleeping face.

You startle awake and groan irritably, rubbing cat fur off your face. You glare at the feline, who bats at your attempts to shoo him away. Damian chuckles and the sound catches your barely conscious attention.

“Wht’s s’funny?”

You mumble, barely intelligible. You stretch yourself awake and rub the sleep out of your eyes as Damian sits up.

“They will be expecting us at breakfast.”

Before he can get up, he’s magically pulled back down and his face is smooshed against your chest with your arms wrapped around him, keeping him there right next to a purring Alfred.

“Five more minutes.”

He clicks his tongue. Glaring at the pampered cat next to him, who was supposed to be his ally but has apparently betrayed him for measly head scratches. It’s quiet for a moment as his head rises and falls with your breaths.

“Have you told them about…us?”

He clicks his tongue once more,

“I didn’t need to tell them, you made it pretty clear.”

He feels your raspy laugh through your chest as you seem to remember the torture you put him through after your first kiss.

“Oh yeah.”

You search for your phone on the bedside table and tap clumsily around the screen before turning it towards him. Damian squints at a picture of himself, black lipstick marks all over his face with the most horror-stricken expression he’s ever seen himself wear.

You scroll right to show him a second picture, this time he’s giving the person behind the camera a death glare, although the smudged lipstick on his scowl makes it very hard to take seriously. The third picture you swipe to is just a blurry picture of what Damian assumes is his own expensive dress shoe kicking Dick’s phone out of his hands. A story in three pictures.

You’re full on giggling at this point and Damian snatches the phone out of your hands, intending to burn it and then maybe murder Dick and anyone who's ever seen those pictures. Before he can delete anything, you snap your fingers and the phone is gone in a poof of smoke. He glares down at you and you offer nothing but a satisfied smirk.

“Aww, I could send you a picture of me, if it would make you feel better.”

Your tone is exaggeratingly sensual as you prop your head up on your hand. He scoffs and rolls his eyes at the insinuation and you laugh. A comfortable routine.

Three polite knocks on the door sound.

“Master Damian, breakfast is ready. Don’t worry, I’ve set an extra seat as well.”

You look at each other, less shocked this time around.

“I’m telling you, he’s some kind of sorcerer.”

Damian sighs, getting out of bed and fixing his clothes.

“Get dressed.”

─⋅⋆⁺.

“Morning.”

You greet everyone at the breakfast table. Bruce doesn’t even look up from his newspaper when he greets back and most of the bats at the table offer the same casual greeting, except Jason, who looks around confused. He watches Damian pour you and himself some water and looks around to the rest of the family before asking out loud.

“Is this normal?”

Dick gestures at you wildly and gives an exasperated,

“Thank you!”

The other siblings glance at each other with knowing looks of anticipation. Damian clicks his tongue and sighs,

“Maybe if you both could keep a stable relationship, you would know that it’s completely normal to have your partner over for breakfast.”

You and half the table struggle to hold back your laughter. You catch Duke's whispered "Damn" and Steph shushing him. Jason doesn’t even seem to register the insult, unlike Dick you brings his hand to his chest in offense. Jason looks between you and Damian and simply says,

“Cute.”

Before going back to him scrambled eggs. You see Damian clutch his fork, leave it to Jason to find the most effective way to infuriate his youngest brother. Dick seems to deflate a little at his brother’s lackluster reaction, clearly wanting someone to share his bewilderment.

He looks around the table for support and gets it in the form of Tim nudging his head towards you both with an encouraging look. Dick regains some confidence and crosses his arms giving you a smirk.

“So when’s the wedding then?”

Tim doesn't bother hiding his snort. You answer while buttering some toast.

“We’ll let you know.”

Damian interjects, pointing towards Dick.

“You’re not invited.”

Dick's offended expression is back in full force. He looks to Bruce for ally ship.

"Bruce!"

"Leave it Dick."

The batman says with finality. The eldest son sulks in his chair for the rest of breakfast. Half way through the meal you turn to Bruce,

“John’s going on leave for a little, by the way.”

Bruce looks to you, questioning but not outright skeptical.

“Any reason in particular?”

You feel Damian's foot brush yours under the table, a little show of support.

“I just thought he could use a little time off.”

Bruce nods his head at what he apparently deems a sufficient answer, though you’re sure he’ll be looking into it further right after breakfast is done.

As breakfast wraps up, most of the bats head to the kitchen to help clean up and Damian tries not to rush you towards the front door too hastily.

“It’s rude to leave without saying goodbye, y’know.”

You sound incredible amused by his attempts to avoid his family embarrassing him any further.

“I’m sure they will forgive you.”

He closes the front door behind him and sighs a breath of relief. You grin at him and he tries to ignore it.

“Will you be visiting him?”

You nod, “We have a lot to talk about.”

He nods back and tries to give you what he hopes is a reassuring look. You reach out for his hand and point towards his chest.

“And you have to plan our next date.”

You say it like it’s a challenge, clearly very proud of how your date went. He holds your hand to his chest and gives a determined nod, already planning a date so good it’ll blow yours right out the water.

You lean in closer, trying not to smile when you hear shuffling from behind the door. Damian grimaces and you take his cheek in your hand, bringing him into a kiss. He kisses back, a real goodbye-for-now kind of kiss…

It doesn’t drown out the sound of the various whoops and whistles that come from the other side of the door though. The loudest of which being Dick's "Ohmygodohmygod!!" and Stephanie's squeal. You think you even hear Alfred say something like "Good show, Master Damian."

Damian groans as you part from the kiss with a cackle.

“Let me come with you.”

He almost begs, just to get away from the barrage of idiots waiting for him behind the door. You take both his cheeks in your hands and kiss his little frown.

“Nope.”

You simply say with a laugh and a half apologetic look before poofing away, leaving the littlest bat alone to suffer the torture of a supportive family.

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

[wheneverfeasible]

Bullshit (part 2/3)

Continuation “fix it” of this ficlet where Steve changed himself to try to earn Eddie’s love.

Steve missed his polos.

He missed his light wash jeans, his music, watching his favorite movies, he even missed his stupid plaid walls.

Eddie had laughed at them the first time he’d been in Steve’s room, back before they’d even started dating. Technically they were still there, they were just covered up with posters of bands Steve only knew about because his boyfriend liked them. Eddie had teasingly gifted him a Black Sabbath one back when they had just been friends to give his room more “personality” instead of his mostly undecorated room, which…okay, fair, because Steve had admittedly not done much of it himself just because he couldn’t be bothered.

(And he did, actually, kind of like the poster because it was their own little inside joke. It made him smile when he saw it, even to this day, even if he thought he could still taste the damned demobat sometimes.)

It wasn’t like he really knew much of who he was to begin with. He still had the bowling pin he and Tommy had stolen from the bowling lane their sophomore year (Steve’s idea, though only to impress his friend), and the picture of the car he had bought on a whim because Tommy had said he wanted a car just like it. Any other knickknack had either been gifted or purchased for a similar intent.

Now, that car picture was collecting dust in his closet, replaced by the Black Sabbath poster that Eddie had pinned to the wall slightly askew for ‘aesthetics,’ though it being slightly off-center and at an angle made Steve a little itchy. Soon, however, other posters soon followed, some given to him by Eddie and some he purchased himself after learning what bands Eddie liked, with a large Dio one taking up space by his bed.

Flyers of Corroded Coffin shows or other band merch dotted around the room as well, which he didn’t really mind because he liked supporting his boyfriend, though the clutter and disorganization slightly bothered him. Eddie had grinned at the sight however and called him a ‘real boy now’ for looking like the room of a young man and not a ‘30-something corporate stooge,’ so that would have to be fine too.

But he still missed his room looking like his room, instead of a replica of Eddie’s. It made Eddie feel more comfortable however, so he tried not to think about how it wasn’t his aesthetic at all, because he could learn to like it. He could change for the better. He could be what Eddie wanted. He could be good enough.

Which was why he was confused, staring at the garment box on the kitchen table where he’d been circling car ads in the classifieds, trying to find something cooler than his bimmer. Eddie had come over with a wide grin, sliding a box he recognized from one of the department stores he used to shop at before dating Eddie.

Eddie had proffered it with a flourish, grinning expectantly, practically vibrating with anticipation as Steve had carefully lifted the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal the piece of clothing inside. A polo shirt in a soft, buttery sort of yellow with thick vertical white stripes running vertical over it.

Steve looked up at Eddie with a furrowed brow. “I…you got me a polo?” he questioned, confused and also concerned, knowing the department store was definitely outside of Eddie’s usual price range.

“Yeah!” Eddie confirmed happily, moving to sit in the chair next to Steve, looking down at the soft material Steve had yet to pull from the box. “The check from the gig came through, and I remember you looking at this shirt a couple weeks ago. I’ve been waiting to be buy it ever since.”

Steve blinked at that. He hadn’t known Eddie had caught him admiring the shirt in the window while he and Eddie had been walking around downtown. He felt a flair of panic at the thought, annoyed at himself for slipping up, for reminding Eddie that he was a stupid preppy rich kid. Eddie didn’t look upset though, or at least…he hadn’t. Now his eyes were darting over Steve’s expression with growing worry, chewing on his lower lip.

“Is that…is that all right? Was it a different one you wanted? I-I still have the receipt, we can return it and get the one you wanted,” Eddie rushed to say.

“No,” Steve quickly said, his fingers of one hand tightening slightly on the box while his other reached out of their own accord to slightly touch the shirt within. “I…Eddie,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say, what this meant. Why would Eddie buy him something like this? “You shouldn’t waste your hard earned money on…something like this.” Shouldn’t waste your money on me, he wanted to say. “It’s your first paying gig.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, an almost embarrassed smile curling his lips with a slight blush. “I wanted to, Stevie. You always buy me things, I wanted to return the favor. You’ve been so supportive of me and I wanted to…I don’t know. Thank you.” He glanced down at the polo with a soft expression, though he did frown a little too afterwards. “I haven’t seen you wear your polos in a really long time,” he murmured quietly.

Steve tensed at Eddie’s words. Of course he hadn’t. Polos weren’t cool. Polos weren’t good enough for Eddie. It was why he was so confused at this gift. He didn’t understand why Eddie would buy him something that wasn’t metal. That wasn’t suitable for his boyfriend.

“I know that you’re experimenting with your style and all, and I won’t deny you’re hot as fuck in these,” Eddie grinned, moving to pinch the loose sleeve of Steve’s tee between his fingers. It was from some band he didn’t actually know before he’d bought the shirt, something called Leatherwolf, though he had bought their tape as well so that he could pretend to be a fan and know some of their songs. “But you look hot in your polos too. I miss them.”

Steve sat up straighter at that, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. Eddie…liked his polos? “Aren’t the polos…kind of lame?” he asked carefully.

Eddie snorted, smiling as he leaned in to press a kiss to Steve’s neck, causing a startled smile to erupt over Steve’s own lips as he squirmed at the slight tickle of Eddie’s lips and hair. “There’s nothing lame about you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, voice roughened with his tease. He pulled back though, a touch of his worry on his expression again. “Do you like it?”

Of course Steve liked it. He loved it. It was exactly the one he had been looking at before, even though he’d tried to hide it, which meant that Eddie really had noticed it and really had been waiting to buy it for him. With his first paycheck from Corroded Coffin’s first real paying gig.

There had been the fear that Eddie’s involvement with the band would limit their options, that no one would want to listen to a band that had a member who was suspected of grisly murders. Eddie had been prepared to step down, to let the others move on without him, had offered it even though Jeff and the others had vehemently opposed the idea. They’d said that Corroded Coffin wouldn’t exist without Eddie and if he wasn’t part of it then they didn’t want to do it anymore.

In a surprise twist that probably shouldn’t have been all that surprising, Eddie’s infamy had actually helped the band. The news of his believed guilt and then later innocence and injury from the actual killer that he had tried to stop had spread even beyond Hawkins, drawing a crowd for their nights performing at The Hideout who began to see more patrons than ever before.

Then they’d been invited to participate in a Battle of the Bands, which they hadn’t won but they’d placed second, and the random shows they’d throw themselves at the quarry or wherever else saw larger crowds than usual, even the one they threw to celebrate Gareth graduating, and they’d even been asked to play at the fair, though it was a free gig.

Then, most recently, someone had approached them after one of their shows and asked to hire them for an event in Indianapolis. A paying event in Indianapolis. With it was the promise of possible future paying gigs as their fanbase grew and spread. There was even talk of a possible scout being at the gig.

Dustin had joked that maybe ‘86 hadn’t been his year, but ‘88 could be, though Eddie had just grinned and denied it, saying that ‘86 had been his year after all. He hadn’t said why, but he gave Steve a secretive smile and reached out to tangle their fingers together.

Steve felt a flare of warmth beneath his skin as he stared down at the polo again, hesitating before giving a brief nod. Eddie’s previously nervous smile bloomed into a joyous one, and he leaned in quickly to plant a smacking kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t prevent his own smile from growing on his lips.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmured, sliding a hand over Eddie’s neck to draw him in for a slow kiss. He didn’t know what it meant still, Eddie buying him a polo of all things, but it made him more determined than ever to be good enough for his boyfriend.

When they pulled back, Eddie soft with happiness, Steve made the decision. He needed to go all in if he was to keep Eddie happy. He drew in a deep breath and moved to take Eddie’s hand, his finger lightly tracing one of the scars there.

“I was thinking of growing out my hair. Maybe even dying it. Or maybe shaving i—”

“Don’t you dare!” Eddie interrupted, expression and tone absolutely scandalized as he squeezed Steve’s hand. Steve jumped slightly at the sudden explosion, blinking wide eyes at Eddie, causing the other to flush slightly in embarrassment. “I mean. You can, obviously, if you really want to, it’s your hair after all, but…” Eddie let out a small whine of protest as his gaze moved up to take in Steve’s hair.

Steve self-consciously reached up with his free hand to pass his fingers through his hair, which wasn’t quite as voluminous as he used to style it, but was still the last real testament of his former style. His former personality. The bullshit one.

“I mean,” Steve hedged, glancing away with a small roll of a shoulder in an aborted shrug. “It’s not exactly metal is it?” He looked back at Eddie with a slightly strained smile, rolling his eyes as though in commiseration. “I don’t want to embarrass you by making people think you have a prep for a boyfriend,” he laughed.

Eddie’s expression changed immediately as he stilled almost unnaturally, falling into a blank neutrality, even his eyes shuttering as he slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s grip. The response caused Steve to start panicking, worrying he’d messed up in some way, that he reminded Eddie of all the ways that he was lacking.

Steve opened his mouth to start apologizing, ready to apologize for anything, but Eddie held up his hand palm out to stop him, causing Steve’s mouth to shut with a soft click of teeth.

Eddie’s gaze dropped from Steve as his brows slowly began to furrow, a calculating expression settling over him as his eyes fell to the soft yellow polo still in the box. His lips twisted into a frown. After several excruciating moments, his eyes moved towards Steve’s shirt, an even more pinched look settling over his expression.

“Who are you wearing?” Eddie asked, his voice low and slow.

Steve glanced down at his shirt, the panic in him spiking, before realizing that this was a test. He had to prove to Eddie that he could like metal too (he didn’t, not really, though he could appreciate some of it) and wouldn’t be an embarrassment. He could do this.

“Leatherwolf,” he answered, thankful that he had done his job well enough to answer this pop quiz. He straightened his spine and pulled up the information he memorized with a slightly relieved smile. He could do this. “They’re from California. They were founded in, um, 1981.”

“What’s your favorite song of theirs?” Eddie asked, and there was something slightly off in his tone, but Steve couldn’t place it, not when he was frantically trying to recall the titles of the songs he’d made himself remember.

“Um. Cry Out?” he hesitantly asked more than answered, which caused Eddie’s lips to press into a thin line. He felt his breath catch at the obvious displeasure on Eddie’s face, wondering if he’d answered wrong. Was that a bad song? “O-or no, um, not that one. Uh. I like…um. I like…Magic Eye?” Fuck no, that wasn’t right. “Magical Eyes, I mean,” he corrected himself hastily.

Eddie’s eyes slowly dragged over Steve, his lips compressing again into a thin line as he drew in his own deep breath through flared nostrils. “Fuck,” he muttered, obviously not meant for Steve but it caused Steve to panic anyways as Eddie looked away, his brow furrowing in thought as his gaze settled on the newspaper on the table and the circled ads there.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, though he wasn’t certain what he had done wrong this time. Maybe Eddie didn’t like that band?

“Steve…” Eddie heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face before he looked over at Steve again. “I had thought you were just…trying things out. Experimenting. Lord knows your folks never let you be your own person,” he muttered before waving a hand as though to swat that thought away. “I didn’t realize you were actually trying to change.”

Why did Eddie sound so appalled by that? Wasn’t that a good thing? He was willing to fundamentally change who he was just for Eddie, to become someone deserving of Eddie, who fit in Eddie’s life. Didn’t Eddie want Steve in his life?

“Why are you upset about me changing?” Steve huffed, his worry turning into annoyance in his tone. “I thought that was a good thing. Not being the douchebag I used to be.” He scowled, crossing his arms with a roll of his eyes to cover his unease.

Eddie just looked at him in that way that made it seem like he was seeing inside Steve, which normally Steve liked because no one ever actually saw him, but now it just made him uncomfortable. Like he had done something wrong. He was just trying to be a good boyfriend, however. Besides, it’s not like he had come up with the plan on his own.

Everyone always talked about how different he and Eddie were. Always pointed out how preppy he was, made fun of Eddie for falling for a jock, had even asked at the start when they first came out publicly to their friends who was blackmailing whom into the relationship. Steve knew he had to change. They were too fundamentally different. It was the only way to keep Eddie.

Except Eddie didn’t look like he was going to be kept. He had started slowly shaking his head, pulling back, his eyes skittering over Steve again but in a way that said he wasn’t liking what he was saying. Steve’s panic spiked again.

“Eddie. This is good. I’m willing to change for you, that’s how much I love you,” Steve breathed, reaching out to grab Eddie’s hand with desperation. “I listen to your music now, and I play Dungeons and Dragons, and I don’t even talk about basketball around you anymore. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Don’t you see? Isn’t that all that matters?”

Eddie’s lips turned down into a sharp frown. A shuddering breath left him before he all but yanked his hand from Steve’s, his dark eyes turning even darker as he pulled away from Steve and said those damning words:

“But I’m not happy, Steve.”

Steve felt all the air leave his lungs, felt all the blood first rush to his head and then drain out of him, felt his mouth and tongue and throat shrivel into dryness as his eyes widened in horror. Eddie was shaking his head, stumbling out of his chair and back, an unreadable expression on his face as he distanced himself from Steve and this revelation.

“This wasn’t what I wanted, Steve. This doesn’t make me happy.” Eddie’s took another step back when Steve stumbled from his own chair, putting the table between them. “I…I need to go. I need to think.”

Steve knew with certainty that if he let Eddie leave now, that this thing between them would never be the same. His heart clenched in his chest painfully, and he felt his eyes sting with encroaching tears. “Eddie, please…” he begged, his words cracking.

Eddie only shook his head, sending his hair arcing around him, before straightening his spine. “This isn’t you. I don’t want this to be you. I love you Steve, but this version of you? The one that I created—” This time it was Eddie’s voice that cracked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie backed away. “No. No, this isn’t what I wanted. I’m sorry, Steve, but I need to go. I need to think. I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie spun on his heels and all but ran towards the door, escaping from Steve’s incompetence, his unworthiness, his undesirability while Steve could only stand there in frozen horror, the tears he couldn’t hold back any longer slowly dripping down his cheeks.

Because he knew. He knew this would happen. He knew that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough. He knew that Eddie would leave him one day. Knew that he would never be able to keep the one he loved.

Knew that he, like his love, would always be complete and utter bullshit.

-

Part 3

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