#Ok ok infodump time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zero-is-nebulous · 10 months

Text

Okay I can't take it anymore

Here's an in depth analysis on Sonic and Knuckles, their relationship to the other, and the sun and moon design trope

Sonic

Sonic is, at his core, a free spirit. He is constantly looking for adventure, and jumping into action whenever he is needed. This often puts him into opposition against various bad guys, because the more he defeats them, the more that pop up and want to have a go at the impossible challange.

And like, take over the world, I guess. Typical villain stuff

It's also important to note that, in cannon, sonic is 15 years old. Being a hero at such a young age, I mean, wow that's gotta be some responsibility. Originally, speaking from origins, Sonic just started out using his speed to help little animals get out of traps. Then, just a kid, he encounters eggman and finds out he's behind such a terrible thing. He doesn't know what to do, obviously, because he's a literal child, but knows he can't let his animal friends be hurt like this.

He also knows that he's not like the other mobians, he's faster, more resilient, and that makes him the perfect candidate for the job. He takes down eggman's bigger bots, rescues flickies, and everything is good!

Until eggman retaliates. Because obviously the evil bad guy can't let anyone foil his plans! Anyway, this is a rough timeline of events as to how Sonic most probably got stuck being the hero. He helped some animals, and the threat got bigger, but he stuck with it because he realised he COULD do some good with his powers. Then the threats escalated, and now the entire world depends on him.

(Also, it's worth noting here that Sonic has the 'live in the moment' mentality. Obviously he does heroism because he CARES, like a lot, and he wants OTHER people to be able to enjoy their own 'live in the moment' mentalities because he's an optimist and wants the best for people. Obviously that's also one of the driving forces of his heroism, he's a surprisingly complex character ok it's hard to put it all into words all at once. But this also means that he tries to have fun with it, he DOES enjoy his adventures. Hes clearly a bit of a thrill seeker, he makes the most of a bad situation no matter how dire it is because not only is that a coping mechanism, but one of his personal life mottos. I also personally beleive that he knows how dangerous his line of work is, and that if he DOESNT live life to the most while he has it, he'll regret it in the event that he doesnt make it back one day)

Anyway

Along the way, he's stopped worrying about himself, because he's developed a hero complex. All the pressure put on his character makes him disregard his own safety for others, always making HUGE personal sacrifices for the 'greater good', and pushing his pain aside just so he can help. Sonic is still a child, and he's grown up around violence and heroism and now he has a duty to protect people. Because he can.

Because he's the ONLY one who can

People say so on multiple occasions. When it's, not entirely true? I mean, don't get me wrong, Sonic is a force to be reckoned with, and at some point that statement may have even been true! But its just,,,not, anymore??

When shadow first arrived he was established to have speed that matches sonics, at least to some extent, and a steely moral compass as a result of his past with Maria. He joins GUN in an attempt to make good on his promise (and probably some other government stuff, I mean being an experiment from 50 years ago gets you tangled up in some shit), and he can TELEPORT, as well as hone chaos energy in ways that Sonic can't even manage.

Well, we've never seen him manage, at least.

Here's a quick list of all of Shadows abilities:

Super speed

Immortality

Increased stamina

Spindash

Ability to use firearms

Chaos control (teleportation)

Chaos control (ability to slow or stop time, apparently?)

Chaos spear

Chaos blast

Increased healing factor

Super form

Now, here's a lost of Sonics abilities:

Super speed

Increased acrobatics and agility

Resilience to damage

Strong sense of spirit

Increased stamina

Spindash

Hand to hand combat skills

Chaos control (+1 emerald)

Super form

Both hedgehogs have an impressive arsenal of abilities under their belt, for sure. But even with Sonics collection of skills, some of them are just that. Skills

For Shadow, Chaos energy runs through his veins so extremely that he needs to wear POWER CANCELLING cuffs. He was designed, built, for such power. Take note of how Sonics list includes more generalised and LEARNABLE skills, while Shadows includes more actual 'powers', so to speak

So. Is sonic the ONLY one capable of saving the world? NO! in fact, Shadow has helped do just that on multiple occasions. I'm not saying one is more powerful than the other, or better suited to the role, but Sonic is under the impression that he's alone in this when he's not

Shadow may not have sonics optimism, or social superiority, but he's a GOOD hedgehog, and they both possess amazing abilities that they choose to use for good. Sonics often telling people that they don't have to fight alone, but often takes the leap and does JUST THAT When he deems a situation too dangerous for anyone to risk their lives for

Once, he was the only mobian with powers strong enough to face great evils. Even with the help of Tails and Amy, they were both still kids, younger than himself, who were normal all things considered. Yes, Tails could fly, and yes, Amy could haul a hammer twice her size, but they were still not as strong as him. So, they couldn't be risked. Underneath it all, despite their help, he was always stronger, always the most fit for life threatening missions, and he would take it all in stride

And then there was Knuckles, and then Shadow, and then Silver and Blaze somewhere down the line. All superpowered beings to some extent, having chaos energy (or sol energy) running through them at such a rate that they could ACTUALLY compare to Sonic.

Once, he was the ONLY person strong enough to take on the threats alone. But now? There are others, strong and diffrent like him, who could equally take on the fight with or without his help.

And yes, as they grow and get stronger, the threats DO tend to get more dangerous, but that's why they're all there together. Obviously the threat level will increase, and they will always find away to defeat it per the age rating on the game being allowable for the delicate emotions of optimistic children (and me) that our hero's can concour ANYTHING. But still, they have so many allies that that almost doesn't matter

My point being; he does not need to take on all this pressure by himself.

A lot of the time, at least with major threats such as the metal virus or neo metal sonic (shout out to IDW comics for consuming my brain and producing the most gut wrenching storyline to ever exist in the sonic universe) he's almost FORCED to accept help? I'm not saying he wouldn't have already, but he had a bit of a tendancy to be like 'hey, I got this' *finger guns* when he does not in fact got this. And sure maybe he does eventyally and all that, but you have to admit a LOT of the threats he takes on are like ridiculous to the point you have to brace yourself when he goes into battle. Likes we know sonic is strong but Jesus, that little man takes on some POWERFUL enemies

(Quick case and point: metal virus, being captured on the death egg in forces, being KILLED BY MEPHILES!!! Clearly he isn't indestructible, sometimes he bites off more than he can chew alone)

Ok back on topic now.

The MAIN reason why people look to him as 'the only one who can help them' is because of reputation and carisma. You know why Shadow was disposed of so quickly during the metal virus arc? Because he would have been a GREAT help, and the two of them working together would have toppled the virus MUCH quicker

(And bc they reversed his goddamn character arc AGAIN bc nobody can get it right apparently)

Anyway, because Sonic has gone his entire life with his mentality, people have looked up to him on some kind of pedestal. This just deepens the cycle of it all, making him hold himself accountable, or bare too much burden, and the confident facade is just the icing on the cake.

Because people look up to him, as a hero, a role model, and as a GOOD, and FRIENDLY person. They see him, caring and kind and never giving up, and rely on him. In contrast, Shadow keeps to a distance and is mostly cold to civilians, with the exception of Cream and possibly Vanilla and the Chaotix (Although wether the chaotix should be considered civilians is up for debate). This means that less people call to HIM, when they're in danger. He's under less pressure, people don't put him under a spotlight, but they DO with sonic

And now, whether he wants it or not, he is THE hero

Admittedly, I think Sonic does enjoy being a hero

To an extent, he sort of has to be. He's kind and caring cause that's who he is. He runs because he wants to, and he saves people because he wants to as well. Obviously there's pressure there, but he got into it in the first place because he wanted to do good. And doing a good thing makes him...Happy. content. Proud, even

Hes free like the wind, is what they say, and he IS. He doesn't WANT to quit being a hero, but I'd imagine sometimes he thinks about it. It's a stressful life, every eye on you when something goes wrong, waiting for you to fix it. And sometimes he doesn't have the answers, and that's okay

But some people won't see it that way, see him as a failure. And that's the true bitterness of being worshipped

So yes, while he's sort of trapped in his role, I wouldn't say he wanted to let go of it anyway. He knows someone has to do it, which is a daunting feeling because he also knows that person has to be HIM- but, he enjoys saving people, so it's not all bad

Knuckles

Knuckles the echidna, the last of his tribe, stuck on a floating island in complete isolation.

Well, there's a lot to say about him, I'll admit. So, let's just start small

First of all, Knuckles' isolation has left him slightly naive, which was the original reason that he fell for eggmans lies. This is, of course, because he's been alone for SO long, that he hadn't a clue as to the social clues of a lie. That, and his ONE presumed purpose in life was to look after the master emerald, in which he would do anything to protect

So, a mixture of passion, protectiveness, rage, and naivety, were what lead to the events of Sonic 3 and Knuckles.

The absolute isolation and lack of alterior purpose leave knuckles struggling a lot. He has other ambitions and goals, obviously, he LOVES exploring, and he can read many ancient dialecs which come from his architect passion. The one thing keeping him confined to his island is the emerald

And the implications that follow. See, he's the last of his kind. And, because of that, he has NOBODY who can understand the EXACT and finite details of his situation on an emotional level. He can ask nobody for guidance, instead fumbling blindly under the belief that 'this is what they would have wanted', without actually being able to ASK

Knuckles protects the master emerald because he thinks it's what he's supposed to do. And, It is obviously, but he's so focused on not disappointing his fallen tribe that he disregards his own wellbeing a lot for it

He stays at the shrine 24/7, only leaving when the fate of, quite literally, the ENTIRE WORLD is at stake. He's on his island, alone. Speaking realistically, no one person should be assigned that task. Within the tribe before their passing, many would have protected the emerald, and in healthy shifts

Except, Knuckles doesn't have that choice. So he's cemented to his fate, but he does WANT to do other things. In fact, his time on the island has probably INCREASED the hunger for exploration and adventure

So, let's think forces for a second.

Knuckles was the captain of almost an entire ARMY, he lead them, and took on the pressure of responsibility, and that's something quite interesting. See, you'd assume that his time on the island would null his skills with others in that regard, but he has a striking skill when it comes to organisational battle plans.

Hes the same in the metal virus arc

Knuckles is often taking up big, important positions despite his initial lack of social grace. And, deep down, I think this is connected to his tribe.

See, he has this task that he's been confined to, with no guidance at all. He thrives off of the assumption of his tribe, and does his job with steely focus. When he takes up that position as a leader, he takes up the responsibility that weighs similarly to the responsibility of taking care of the master emerald

(Here, he's also able to give OTHER people the guidance he so needed in his times of struggle. By being that someone that can be trusted, and looked to for answers, I feel like it almost quenches some of his deep rooted abandonment issues)

In both scenarios, people are expecting him to protect something, and lead. Be strong, responsible, and altogether a beacon of hope. The key difference is that, this time, he has reassurance. He can see his efforts paying off, he can see his plans play live infront of his eyes, and he saves people. Directly, not just through avoidance, but ACTIVELY protects people

But it's a lot

Even for Knuckles, it's a LOT. because when you're guarding something with expectations of people who aren't there, there's no disappointment. There's only assumedly so, (which im pretty sure hes prone to exagerating because he holds his old tribe up on the same sort of pedistal that most hold sonic. In the sort of heavenly devinity that makes the 'they can do no wrong' thing really prominant, but also he knows about traditions and rules and probaly assumes that they would be SUPER strict, so he holds himself in extremely high expectation as if to please a god) and there isn't death. There isn't pressure that grows as tides change, as people leave and get presumed dead, as lives under his watch aren't at risk. War is an ever changing responsibility, where REAL lives that you can actually comprehend because they're right in front of you, are at stake

I imagine he originally took up the role because watching the master emerald is similar. He protects mobian and human lives alike by doing so, if he watches the emerald and stops it from being stolen, he protects people. And if he watches over this army of people and steers them in the right way, he protects people

Also, it's clear from frontiers that Knuckles is actually really interested in strategy and ancient combat and the like. So it's also possible it's a part of his architect and exploratory interest in diffrent historical events peeking through

When Sonic was taken to the death egg, people assumed he was dead. Sonic was, by all means, a beacon of hope. He provided determination, and gave everybody the idea that, eventually, they would get out of the tough spot

So, when he 'died', Knuckles was left with that job. He had to keep moral high, and hope imminent.

But he's not that good at it. He preaches glory, victory, an end to the war, but people lose hope anyway because Sonic is held in such high regard that people can't seem to beleive that he was bested. And if sonic was bested, then, well...what's the use in trying? NOBODY could match his skill, and he's dead now. So hope is gone and what's the point?

So, it's a tough spot for him. He's lost a friend, everybody is depressed, he doesn't know the first thing about sonics impression of hope, and he's stuck playing leader to a war he himself is giving up on

Don't get him wrong, he wants to WIN. wants to avenge those who killed his friend, and face glory and peace once again. But he just...can't. The pressure is piling up, and while he gradually builds up others confidence, he sees EVERYTHING. He sees the lies put in place of hope, and he doesn't know what to do

Sonic was the one who introduced him to the concept of anything and everything outside of his island, taught him hope and friendship, and now he's dead.

Anyway, while knuckles is a good leader, he's not mentally adjusted for all of its tribulations. As is common for leaders during GENUINE warfare, but I digress

Knuckles and Sonic are simular in the way that they both take on so much pressure. They both have tasks that they 'NEED to do' because they're the ONLY ones fit for the task. In knuckles' case it's much more literal, but LIKE sonics case, it just isn't like that anymore

Having friends now makes looking after the emerald easier than ever. He may not have his tribe, but he's sort of...built a new one, out of the friends he's made. He doesn't have to be there ALONE. People would help, hell, they could take a note out of Sonic underground's book and hand Knuckles a bunch of island defense systems. We all know tails would be more than up for the job

Still, he takes on this responsibility because he assumes its expected of him. And, maybe it WAS

But he's his own person, and he deserves his own life. He has a connection with chaos energy that makes him perfect as the protector, but thats not all he is. And he knows it.

Also, I want to bring back the hidden magic cave for the master emerald to live in. It would be so much harder to steal if it wasn't just sitting at an open air alter on the top of a floating island like a BEACON. Sonic 3 and Knuckles had that hiding spot on POINT, imagine how much safer the emerald would be, and how much more FREEDOM knuckles would have, if tails just upgraded that bad boy a little bit

It's a fixable problem, guys. I know sega wants to have an open plot point at ALL times, so they make the master emerald easier to steal, but Jesus man, you gotta give my guy a break. Why introduce an entire hidden space, perfect for the containment and protection of the master emerald, and then NOT put it there??? DUDE

(That's also probably another reason for the game not being considered cannon. Ik another reason is hyper sonic, obviously, but both concepts kick ass and I want them back. Petition to make sonic 3 and knuckles cannon)

Sonic and Knuckles

Okay, I know I touched up on their relationship a bit in the Knuckles' rundown, but there's a lot more to say. Also, I'm aware that the Knuckles section was disappointingly short, his character has a LOT going on, but there's not a lot to actually say since a lot of it is pretty obvious. Most of Knuckles' interesting attributes actually come out when prompted by others, due to his isolation, which is where Sonic comes in

Sonic and Tails were the second people he met in his LIFE. and he has a good relationship with Tails that I may talk on at a later date, but his relationship with Sonic is genuinely really interesting

See, Sonic was a literall PROPHECY. He was engraved into the rocks on the island, and he was most likely studied and theorised about in his time on the island.

For knuckles, with nothing to do but wait, I have no doubt that he read those texts RELENTLESSLY. so he knows of this hedgehog, prophecised to protect the world from threat, and then he meets a hedgehog. Obviously he's been tricked, but the dots don't connect until they're on the same side, because he's so disconnected from things outside his island, that he can't actually comprehend at first that THIS, right here, infront of his very eyes, is an actual PROPHECY. I bet he wasn't expecting to live at the same time as him, maybe he assumed it'd already happened, or would soon happen long after his own life. Its just not every day you befriend a prophecy okay, I Don't blame the poor guy

(Also, sidebar. How does he know how to read? To talk??? Ik echidna come from eggs so him being born there, fine, I can accept. But HOW is he possibly able to comprehend writings not only in ancient texts, but the more modern language as well??? Was it the master emerald? Does it talk to him? Did it TEACH knuckles how to fucking read? Talk??)

And in a way, that gives Knuckles a link back to his tribe. And that link, of all things, is SONIC

Because somehow, his tribe has prophecised his existence, and the good he'd bring with him. They had deemed this mobian so important that they carved his image into rock. Surely, he must have been a common topic

Would they be proud of knuckles for being the one to greet him? Or would they shrivel up in disappointment at their first interactions?

Sonic and Knuckles have an interesting character dynamic, because they're both simular, while also being drastically opposite from one another

They both uphold ridiculous responsibility. Sonic is the protector of the people, there to fight off any threats and keep them safe. Knuckles is the protector of the master emerald, a more behind the scenes method of protection, as if it was left in the wrong hands, people would surely die. More than that, they're both hero's to the public

They also both adore adventure and exploration

Knuckles is a solitary creature, moreso by habit than by introvertedness, and his passions in traveling are often squandered by his job

Sonic is an outgoing creature, always social and optimistic. This is partially his extrovertedness, and partially his general likeness. While I wouldn't say sonic is an introvert either, maybe saying he's an extrovert Is also not necessarily true. In sonic x especially, he's shown to very much enjoy his time alone, although fluctuates that mantra when in the company of those he trusts

Anyway, Sonic is free flowing, able to do whatever he wants really. And knuckles is the opposite. While they both strive for simular things, their actual actions are very diffrent

Sonic is also optimistic, outgoing, energetic, and generally quite relaxed. Knuckles on the other hand, is reclusive, cold, calculating and fierce. He often refuses to 'relax', taking his position as guardian VERY seriously

Their personalities mesh surprisingly well, considering all of this

When Knuckles was introduced to society via flying fox and prophecy 'god', that cemented the end of an era for him. Obviously he knew there was things outside of his island, but things like technology, and all the things that existed outside that he'd never even heard of, often turns a guys perspective upside down.

So Sonic and Tails introduced society, and friendship. Sonic is stubborn, not one to give up on things he's pursuing, and his friendship with Knuckles is no different. Because Knuckles is so used to isolation, he struggles to accept the drastic change that his life Is undergoing, and part of that change is the inclusion of people

So he acts cold on purpose a lot to deter people, as a protection for himself, and the master emerald. Cause, if someone gets close to him, he may let his guard down and then the emerald would be at risk. He's afraid of forming any type of relationships at first because he's never had to forge one before, and he doesn't know how to feel about it all

Luckily for him, Sonic is stubborn. He sees someone lonely, and able to kick his ass, and thinks 'yeah, we are actually going to be best friends I think'

Anyway because of Sonics stubbornness, and consistency, Knuckles and him are friends. I imagine that Sonic visits him, as well as their other friends, but Sonic specifically doesn't seem the type to just LET knuckles be alone on an island

Plus the tornado IS his plane, he could fly it up if he really wanted to

Anyway throughout the years, Knuckles and Sonic have a healthy respect for one another. They were rivals once, and then friends, but they aren't afraid to challange eachother because they're truly equals

So Sonic and Knuckles are friends. Cool, great. HOW does this relate to the sun and moon dynamic further than their original opposites?

I'm so glad you asked!

Sun and moon

So for some context, for those of you who are unaware, Sonic and knuckles designs are representing the Sun and moon by CANNON DESIGN CHOICES. Sonics tummy fur is meant to represent the sun, and obviously, Knuckles sidewards crescent moon is meant to represent, well, the MOON

The way that the sun and moon dynamic works is like this:

"a merging of opposites , unity and cooperation instead of conflicts, and rebirth"

Thanks Pinterest matching tattoo post!

Anyway, at the start, Knuckles and Sonic are at odds. They're complete opposites at a first glance. And then they're given the chance to be better, be friends, and suddenly their dynamic is just the best thing in the world ever oh god its SO PURE AND SLAY?!?!

The moons characteristics are as follows

Constant

Steady

Reliable

Straightforward / blunt

Compassionate

The sun's characteristics are as follows

Impulsive

Energetic

Strong willed

Intense

THESE ARE THEIR TRAITS!!!

Knuckles is often the one to have a level head. Yes he is shown to have bursts of anger, or lapses in judgement, but it's driven by his passion (And his emotional stunted upbringing). People often turn to him in times of need within their friendship group because he's well known to be wise, at least about chaos energy (which is most often what they need to know about anyway, hoorah for world centric magic types). He's blunt because of his lack of social awareness mostly. And while he's getting better, he's still pretty straightforward. He doesn't seem to care about sugar coating things for people, with the more 'this is how it is, undiluted, face the world and its problems' vibe

And Sonic. He's impulsive because he wants to live while he still can, he's energetic because speed literally RUNS THROUGH HIS VEINS like a vice, unstoppable and unrealistic. He's strong willed and determined, never backing down, STUBBORN in a way that Knuckles can almost match. Knuckles has been proven to share that drive, its one of their common grounds, but he also knows when to quit. That's their separation, because Sonic doesn't take no for an answer when lives are at stake. He's intense, all encompassing. His presence is almost distracting. Not only because of his social status but just because of his general vibe, sunny and bold

I like to bring actual science into this because it makes the metaphor even better IMO, so let me set the scene

Knuckles is the moon, because he is distant. He likes to keep to himself, and he is steadfast. He is strong, steady, and confident. He has an important purpose that he takes very seriously, and has lived his life in gentle solitude in tune with the nature away from him. He has spent a lot of his life floating, separated from people and their kinship

Enter: Sonic T. Hedgehog. He's intense in a way that is so noticeable that knuckles CANNOT ignore. Its a passion that he respects, and eventually, he finds himself closer than ever to him. You'd think being so close to the sun would get you burned, and it's maybe that apprehension that keeps him at a steady distance even still. Even when his light seems to bring out all of the best parts of him

Just like the moon only lights up the night sky because of the suns grace, Knuckles is only able to let himself flourish because Sonic had brought all of the best parts about him to light. It's cheesy, sure, but it's something he cherishes because he feels more like himself than he ever has in his solitude

There's still this fear, at arms length, because Sonic is so good. If he's a sun he is worshipped. He is looked up to and loved, people bathe in his light and leave gifts at his alter. He is so far away, it's insane

But maybe he doesn't notice, that people worship the moon too. And the sun is the biggest supporter. He shines so that people appreciate him, see all that he does. And people regard them together, because its the sun and the moon. They both float so far away from everyone else, only close enough to eachother by sheer magnitude. They're imposing and intense, and nobody else can even get close. And no matter how many people worship the sun, there is only one who may get close enough to FEEL his heat

And that is the moon

52 notes · View notes

grandwretch · 1 year

Text

only i must wander, pt 2

[on ao3][pt 1]

content warnings: non-graphic discussions of racism, bigotry, murder, and child abuse. i go into more detail on ao3.

Before Steve even had a chance to breathe, Robin was human again. A furrow in her brow creased her smooth skin, frustration at the forced woge evident. Her eyes– blue, Steve noted, unlike the gold they had been a moment before –held Steve's gaze for a moment before sliding away.

Her quick return to humanity did not negate the familiar rush of adrenaline. Steve's body had locked up the moment her eyes had flashed at him, torn between two instincts. Just as he'd feared, the forefront of his mind was focused on violence. The enemy wasn't moving, unarmed and currently disguised as a human, but that only meant that Steve had the advantage; There was a blade on the far counter, dull but usable, and if he needed to run, there was a window over her shoulder.

He'd probably survive the fall.

But as much as his body wanted to shove his new manager– Seriously, what was that guy's name, again? –to the side and lunge for the knife, Steve refused to give in. Hopper had told him he could power through these instincts, but it didn't feel like fighting. It felt like hiding. Like he if he didn't move, didn't breathe, then the terror of his own brain couldn't find him.

The manager said something. Steve didn't hear, didn't care, all of his senses attuned to Robin and her every move.

Robin stood, and Steve felt his entire body shift. It wasn't a flinch, not so much movement that the manager would clock it, but he… His fingers twitched into loose fists, his posturing changing as his hips and feet moved to a more dynamic stance. It didn't look like much, just a nervous guy fidgeting on his first day at work, but Steve could feel his body revving up for a fight.

And judging by the look in Robin's eyes, she might actually give it to him.

"I can show him around the back," Robin said, smiling at the manager. "We used to go to school together. It'll give us time to catch up." The friendliness on her face was obviously fake, plastic-y and barely an effort. But if the manager noticed, he didn't care.

"Good looking out, Rob. I needed to give Patrick his break, anyway," he said. "Steve, I'll see you in about thirty minutes to finish up your paperwork?"

It hurt to make himself nod, his body unwilling to give in to the extraneous movement. Stilted though it was, the manager was happy enough to accept it. He smiled, nodded, and left them alone in the room.

The woge had rippled back across Robin's face before the door even shut behind him. Now that he was expecting it, Steve could see more of the details of her second face. Unlike Dustin, the fur sprouting on her face was mostly white, and it faded into the same reddish-brown as her hair. Her teeth and nose lengthened, a subtle snout protruding from her face. The biggest change, however, was her eyes: They glittered gold, larger and more fierce than her human gaze.

Steve wasn't great at this Wesen thing yet, but Dustin had told him that tons of Wesen had attributes of animals, and Robin was obviously one of them. Would knowing which one help him in a fight? She was obviously something furry and mean, like some kind of cat… Or maybe a fox?

Robin met his curious gaze, and Steve watched her face grow even angrier at what she saw there.

Before Steve could even wonder which sins she saw reflected back in his eyes, Robin was taking large, furious steps towards him.

Not even Steve's dedication to not hurting anyone could power through his need to not be murdered in an ice cream shop by an angry Wesen. He gave up on the idea of the blade– It was too far, on the other side of teeth and claws, and he wasn't willing to risk it for a sub-par weapon. Instead, he reached out for the first thing he could get his hands on.

It turned out to be an ice cream scoop.

Steve had half a mind to be embarrassed of his own instincts, but in the next breath a hundred scenarios flooded through his mind. He could use the handle as brass knuckles, use the added force to break her nose, pushing the cartilage into her brain. But would the Wesen bone structure allow for it? He couldn't be sure. That was why he obviously had to go for the eyes, using the slight point of the scoop to remove an eye from the socket. But–

Bile rose in his throat, and Steve forced himself to swallow even as plan after plan sprouted fully-formed in his mind.

"Please don't make me hurt you," he said, his voice shaking in his throat. "I really don't want to hurt you."

The plea only deepened the disgust on Robin's face, and she took one more step towards him. Steve planted his feet, twirling the scoop to reverse his grip when she bared her teeth at him. He would definitely have to take a few teeth out first.

"Why am I not surprised that King Steve is a fucking Grimm?" Robin growled, the unfamiliar word like a curse in her mouth. It was obviously supposed to mean something to him, supposed to hurt, but the best Steve could do was confusion.

Confusion so deep, in fact, that it helped dull the rage and terror that Steve couldn't tame. He felt his muscles relax by centimeters, the energy going instead towards trying to figure out what the fuck that was supposed to mean.

"What the fuck is a Grimm?"

He would have thought it was his Wesen name, although it didn't exactly sound like Hexenbiest or Eisbiber. It sounded English, in fact, and although Dustin had lectured him a thousand times about why German and English sounded so similar, the familiarity unsettled Steve a bit. Sure, 'beast' wasn't exactly something you wanted to be called, but Steve was willing to say that 'grim' was a fair bit closer.

"Please," Robin scoffed. When Steve could only blink at her, shrugging, her face changed to something that almost resembled pity. "You're kidding."

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about," Steve said. "What is that? A Grimm, I mean. Is that– Is that what I am?"

Without another word, Robin dropped the woge and turned away from him, picking up the book she had abandoned on the table.

"Look, I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. I'm new at this Wesen thing, so I don't really know how to stop the eyes from giving people the wrong idea, but if you– If you know what I am, then maybe you could–"

Laughter cut him off, and Robin shook her head, turning back around. "I'm not really interested in teaching a future serial killer how to do his job, thanks."

Steve faltered. "I… what?"

"Look, I don't care what you do outside of work. Do what you need to. But stay the fuck away from me, okay?"

She wasn't meeting his eyes, Steve noticed. Not even really looking at him at all, even though it meant she was at a disadvantage if he attacked. It was just the tiniest gesture, submissive where everything else had been primed to offend, and Steve realized with a sinking stomach that she was scared. Robin was terrified of him, not in the way that El had been, but as a person.

The adrenaline had long since faded, and Robin was still afraid that he would kill her.

"I'm not…" Steve panted. "I wouldn't…."

Robin didn't wait for him to find his words. She was out the door before he had even caught his breath, leaving the door banging behind her.

It had been hell getting through the rest of the shift. It was, blessedly, a short one, more of an orientation than anything, but Steve still couldn't focus for more than five minutes. His brain kept repeating the words Robin had thrown in his face.

A future serial killer. What the fuck had that meant?

Steve didn't go home after his first shift. He had planned to, planned to celebrate with a long, hot shower and some take out. The anxiety that crept up when he was finally alone in his car didn't care what Steve had planned, however. Normally, he would have just called Dustin to puzzle it over, like he usually did with every other perplexing social interaction, but Dustin was only allowed one phone call a day, which meant Steve got to talk to him once a week. It was a blessing that Claudia had afforded him Sundays, honestly. So Steve turned to the only other person in this town who could put up with him for more than five minutes.

Hopper didn't even bother to act surprised when Steve knocked on his door. "Rough day at work?" he said, a grin curled around the cigarette he had tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"Wesen coworker," Steve said.

That was enough explanation, apparently. "Fuck, kid," Hopper said, stepping back so Steve could slip past him into the living room. "You can't catch a break, huh?"

"I… handled it better than I thought I would," Steve admitted as he crossed the room to throw himself onto the couch. "I almost threw up afterwards, but I didn't let it control me again."

He heard the door close, and Hopper's heavy footsteps on the floor behind him. Steve couldn't see him from where his head lolled on the couch cushion, but he could see Hopper's shadow reaching across the floor. That was enough.

"See, I knew you could do it," Hopper said, over the distinct sound of a fridge door opening.

Steve huffed, thinking about the things Robin had said to him. Had called him. "She knew what I was," he said, because it felt wrong to acknowledge the praise when he was pretty sure he didn't deserve it. "Called me a Grimm."

"That…" Hopper sounded as confused as Steve felt. "Now, I don't speak German, but I'm pretty sure that's just English."

"I don't fucking know anymore, man. From what Dustin's been telling me, I think they might be the same thing."

"Wouldn't that be useful?" Hopper scoffed. The fridge closed. "Did she bother to explain what it meant?"

"N… no?" Steve swallowed. "I asked, but she wouldn't really…"

Hopper rounded the couch and held an already sweating can of beer out. Steve accepted it with shaking hands.

"She didn't say it like it was a nice thing," Steve said, finally. "Honestly, I think she assumed I was there to kill her."

That certainly made Hopper pause. Steve watched him pause, halfway into his recliner, before finally forcing himself to complete the motion. They didn't speak for a moment, but Steve couldn't bring himself to drink. The idea of anything on his churning stomach made him sick.

"Does it… matter?" Hopper said, eventually.

Steve laughed, a strained, choking thing. "Does it matter?" he repeated, "Does it matter that apparently my entire– my entire species is supposed to kill people? Yeah, Hop, I would say it does."

"That's not how–" Hopper shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen, don't go talking to Dustin about what I'm about to say, but from what I've heard from Claudia Henderson, I sometimes get the feeling that these Wesen folk are racist as hell."

Steve blinked. "I don't think it's really the same thing."

"Yeah?" Hopper's mouth twisted, a smile that made Steve shiver. "You weren't here when she was trying to explain to me what El was. Some of the stuff she said… She's not human, either, but she talked about El like she was worse than a monster. Like she would kill all of us in our sleep if we gave her the chance."

Steve thought about it. It felt wrong, like a pebble in his shoe, to think about himself that way. He'd been very lucky growing up, he knew that. He had the money, the right looks, the right family. He couldn't imagine himself dealing with the same things that Lucas had gone through, for instance. But… Steve also thought about the things Dustin said, sometimes, about his mom not letting him be alone with El, how Steve himself probably wouldn't be allowed within five feet of him anymore when she discovered that Steve wasn't human.

It wasn't the same thing, not at all, but it still didn't feel good.

"I'm not saying that she was right," Steve said, slowly, "but my instincts…"

"You're not a fucking animal, kid," Hopper grunted. "Don't let them treat you like one."

He raised the legs of his recliner, settling into the cushion with a pointed silence. The conversation was over, as far as Hop was concerned.

Steve tried to be okay with that. Tried to be okay with the idea that they were wrong, not him. Every day, he woke up and tried again. It never really stuck. Some days were better than others. Some days, Steve could almost brush off Robin's glare without a single pang of guilt. Some days, Steve felt human. Most days he didn't. There was a voice in his head that said they were right, that it might be for the wrong reasons, but there was something wrong with him.

Robin only made it worse. Steve had tried to keep out of her way, but there were only so many excuses that could keep them off the same shifts. When they did work together, Robin never let up– He tried to keep quiet, keep his head down, but she would always find something to say.

It was never nice. Of course. After a while, she didn't even seem fearful, just disgusted at his existence. Everything Steve did was under scrutiny, with Robin insulting everything from his hair to his customer service. Once, during a particularly intense rush, she hissed at him for breathing 'like a beast'.

That's what she said. Like a beast.

El was the only thing that helped. Hopper didn't understand, and Dustin was away at camp, but El was always happy to see him. Steve didn't talk about it much, not wanting to unload the mess in his head on a little girl, but Steve was sure El got it, anyway.

Steve didn't know what Mrs. Henderson told her about being a Hexenbiest. He didn't want to know. Avoiding her was awkward enough without actively wanting to rip her apart for making El feel bad for something she couldn't control.

And, yeah, he got the irony– It was different for El, okay?

Hanging out with El was different than hanging with Dustin and the others. While the boys left Steve with the same happy, tired feeling as a good swim meet, El made him feel… grounded. Restored. He didn't know if that was personality or power, but he was sure that was the only thing keeping him sane.

After bad days, Steve would drive straight to the cabin. Hopper would always roll his eyes and grouse about Steve keeping his daughter up all hours, but he never actually turned Steve away. (Besides he loved it when El would kick Mike out for Steve. He never laughed harder.) They would commandeer the couch, chasing Hopper off to the kitchen nook, and watch movies or music videos Steve had taped. Sometimes, El read out loud to Steve, instead; Her vocabulary was improving in leaps and bounds. Once night settled fully, they would go out onto the porch and talk until El couldn't form words around her yawns.

They never talked about the Wesen thing. Everything else was fair game, though. Sometimes it was simple things, like what it was like to love a Wheeler, or if Lucas and Will would like the book they just finished. Sometimes El talked about the lab, about the siblings she'd lost. Sometimes Steve admitted, nervous every time, that when his parents were home he felt like a cornered animal. Max joined them from time to time, the conversations becoming all the more bittersweet.

Sure, making yet another thirteen year old best friend probably wasn't the healthiest thing Steve had ever done, but it got him out of bed and into work every morning. That was more than enough, for now.

El must have said something to the other kids, because they started showing up at work more often. Every day, in fact, even when they'd long since run out of allowance to spend on ice cream. They weren't obvious about it, only popping by to tell him about their day or beg for free samples, except for Max.

Max, ever the protector, loved to come by on days Robin worked. Her new favorite hobby was sitting at a table for hours and yelling over Robin whenever she spoke. Max always got Steve's employee discount.

"You do not look happy," El said one night. Max had still been in the lobby when Steve clocked out, so they'd driven to the cabin together instead of going home.

"I'm fine," Steve said, automatically, straightening himself from his slump.

"He has to work with Robin all next week," Max said, ignoring Steve's noise of protest. "She was complaining about it loud enough for half the mall to hear."

"Hm." El's eyes narrowed. Then, as if the moment had never happened, she turned towards Steve's stack of tapes. "I want to watch the Muppets."

Steve really shouldn't have been surprised when El showed up with Max the next day.

The moment he registered her bright, familiar grin, Steve felt his veins go cold. It was a strange, almost alien feeling now to be afraid without the all-consuming adrenaline and rage of his woge. Instead of forcing himself to stay still, he was stuck , unable to do anything but watch Max and El approach the counter.

"Hi, Steve!" El said, smiling. She looked so happy, all dolled up in new clothes and light makeup, and Steve wanted to be happy for her. He really did. Hopper's voice in his head simply wouldn't let him.

"You are not supposed to be here," Steve said, voice dropping into a whisper. Max rolled her eyes and Steve felt the anger break through the icy grip of fear, finally letting him round the counter to herd them into the corner. "Did you sneak her out, Mayfield?"

"It's the mall, Harrington," she sniped, crossing her arms. "No one's looking for her here. She'll be fine."

"Government agents and mad scientists have to shop, too," Steve said. "... Probably."

El leaned into Steve's side, pouting up at him. Which, honestly, was cheating, because El knew that Steve had never been able to say no to puppy dog eyes. When she finally let Dustin in on that trick, his life was officially over. He could already feel himself starting to waver.

"We came to help," El said, wrapping her arms around Steve's waist. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not…" Steve took a deep breath. "I'm not mad. I'm worried. There's a difference."

Max was no longer paying attention. Instead, she was staring at the front counter, face drawn into a tight scowl. "El. That's her."

Robin stood at the counter, obviously staring. Not at the girl who was glaring daggers into her, but El and Steve. It almost didn't register at first; Steve had gotten pretty used to constantly having Robin's attention on him when they worked together. As El calmly returned Robin's stare, however, Steve noticed that the usual anger on Robin's face wasn't present. She looked almost surprised, instead, with a heavy dose of confusion.

Which made sense, he guessed, if she could tell El was a Wesen.

He put his hand on El's back, a protective gesture that he hoped Robin would understand as a line in the sand. Her gaze didn't waver.

"I want to talk to her," El said, voice strangely flat.

"Absolutely not," Steve said. "She's almost an adult, and you can't fight back without… getting yourself in trouble."

"Then can I…"

"No," Steve sighed. "Is this really what you snuck out for? To bother my coworker with your magic powers?"

"And shopping," Max said brightly.

El didn't answer. When Steve looked down at her, her cheek still pressed into his uniform shirt, he watched the woge settle across her face.

" Jane Hopper, " Steve hissed. Over the past weeks, he had gotten more than used to El's Wesen face, and had become as fond of it as he was her cherub-cheeked human form. That didn't mean he was an idiot, though; He knew an intimidation tactic when he saw one.

He also saw Robin's face go absolutely white as the blood drained from her face. There was a moment where the girls' gazes held, Robin's hypnotized by the black pits of El's, and then Robin squeaked and scuttled into the back room.

"Guys, you can't…" Steve began, but when Max and El both looked up at him with matching mischievous grins, he couldn't hold back his chuckles. "Thank you, but seriously. Never do this again."

El tilted her head up, chin digging into Steve's stomach, to meet his gaze. "No one is allowed to bully you."

"That so?" Steve said, a fond smile stealing across his face.

Solemn, El responded, "Will says big brothers need to be protected sometimes, too."

"Oh." Steve turned the loose embrace into a proper hug, suddenly overcome with affection. His whole life he'd been alone, and now he had two little siblings. How cool was that? He hummed, a hand smoothing down El's curls as she squeezed him tight.

Max watched them with a look Steve couldn't decipher, the beginnings of a frown on her face. Maybe three little siblings, he corrected himself, and reached one hand out to her.

"Ew," Max complained, but let herself be pulled into his side anyway.

"I care about you both so much ," Steve said, voice low. "Which is why you're going home right now, before Hopper finds out you left and you get so grounded I can't see you again until I'm 40."

"Dad is in Layton," El said, eyes twinkling. "We have hours ."

"And tickets to Back to the Future," Max said, smug as anything.

Steve sighed and pushed flyaway hairs back from Max's forehead. "Fine, but be careful. I saw the boys here earlier. Try to get a ride home with Jonathan or Nance. And stick together ."

"Okay, mom, " Max said, rolling her eyes as she pulled away.

El giggled like it was the funniest joke she's ever heard. "Yeah, mom ."

Steve shook his head and shooed them out, mumbling meaningless threats of narcking to Hopper. Once they were out of his sight, swallowed by the churn of the crowd, Steve felt himself deflate. The performance of big brother kept him afloat, chest filling with warmth, but when he was supposed to be just Steve…

He bit his lip and returned to the service counter, ignoring the unmistakable feeling of a gaze glued to his back.

The next month flew by much the same as the first had, though if Max and El snuck out again, they knew better than to come to Scoops. Robin's ire, now two months deep, now inspired more melancholy in Steve than frustration.

It was astonishingly easy to descend into self-pity, lately, and with every insult or smart remark Steve couldn't help but feel he'd lost something. Not just for himself, but for El and Dustin, too. Nothing concrete, but rather a bond, the chance of a connection to the greater Wesen community. A connection that should have already belonged to El and Dustin, denied to them by deception and fear.

And now by the virtue of loving Steve.

Steve tried not to dwell on it too much. He kept himself busy, between work and helping Hop at the cabin, and counted down the days until Dustin would be home. Until their tiny pack of three would be complete again.

The day Steve woke up to a tiny beaver sticker on his calendar, not even Robin could knock the smile off his face. He could tell it bothered her, too, and for once the mumbling under breath only made him smile harder.

His brother was coming home.

Steve was on his break when he heard Dustin's voice, clear as a bell, for the first time in months. "Is he here?"

Robin answered, clearly bored, but Steve paid no mind to what she had to say. He was already out of his seat by Dustin's final syllable. Steve sprinted out of the break room, skidding out of the door as his own speed overwhelmed him. And there he was, Dustin Henderson, a whole two inches taller than Steve had last seen him.

His smile was blinding.

"I can't believe you actually wear that," Dustin said, his smile only growing wider.

"You little shit," Steve said, then leapt over the counter. He didn't put much thought into it, hadn't considered that he might not be able to clear it. He'd only thought– Oh, it would be so much faster to go over than around. And then he'd done it, shoes squeaking on the linoleum as he landed on the other side.

"Wow, you must have really missed me," Dustin said, and then he said nothing at all, because Steve was scooping him into a hug.

"I regret it immediately," Steve said, but he didn't let go. If anything, his own gentle teasing just made him squeeze harder, as if Dustin would take his teasing as truth and leave again. "When can I send you back?"

Dustin slapped him on the back, his usual sign he wanted to be let down, now, please. "If you suffocate me I'm not going to make it until next time."

"Sorry, man," Steve said. He lowered Dustin to the floor and then stepped back. Through all his sheepishness, he still didn't stop smiling; Not even the embarrassment could dim the sheer relief Steve felt having everyone he loved back in the same city limits. "How was camp?"

"Who gives a shit? I can't believe they actually hired you!"

"Fuck off, Henderson, seriously."

And then, naturally, they fell into their handshake. It was a stupid, geeky tradition that Steve had been pulled into unwillingly, but he had to admit that half the moves were his idea. Even the lightsaber fight, which they had choreographed on Mrs. Henderson's couch after a hearty meal of Christmas leftovers. Steve thought the spilling of his guts was particularly inspired, even if Dustin often complained that disembowelment was both non-canon and unscientific.

As if the little shit didn't giggle every time.

"No, but seriously," Steve said as he recovered from his dramatic demise, "how was camp, man? Let me go on my break, you can tell me everything–"

"Absolutely not," Robin said from the counter. Dustin turned to her, eyebrows raised, and Steve internally sighed. He was not looking forward to explaining all this to Dustin, who was protective on the best days and mocking on the worst. Whatever the kid's opinion would be, Steve was sure it would just make him feel worse.

Before could even protest the double standard of Robin having already taken two breaks to his zero, Robin did the unthinkable– She woged at Dustin, human teeth already bared before they shifted into fangs. Steve was proud of how Dustin reacted, though, meeting Robin's gaze head-on even though Steve could see his black little nose quiver in terror. The instinctual response woge had settled over Dustin, his fear plain as day, but he didn't give a centimeter.

Good, Steve thought, as he whirled on Robin.

Robin's anger matched his own before Steve could even open his mouth, as if he were the one who had been unspeakably rude. As if he was the one making thinly veiled threats of violence in public. As if he were the one who kept woging in public, every time risking more and more exposure. It only made the rage burn brighter.

"What the fuck is your problem, Buckley?" Steve could tell from the flicker of Robin's golden eyes that he was woged now, too, and he knew he was supposed to fight it. Part of him wanted to try. But for once, the human and Wesen instincts were in complete accordance. No version of Steve Harrington was going to let anything happen to Dustin.

"I can't believe you," Robin said. There was an animalistic rumble underneath her voice, a vocalization that Steve's ears could only just make out. "The audacity of a Grimm knows no bounds, apparently."

That word again. Whatever the fuck it meant.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Steve ignored the confused glances Dustin kept throwing his way, the hand clenched in the hem of his shirt. There was no way he was taking his eyes off an angry predator.

"I thought it was really weird when that little 'biest was here, hanging off of you," Robin continued, "but everyone knows that they're all buddy-buddy with the Royals, so I figured it was business. But this? Preying on a little prey kid? That's low, Harrington, even for you."

It was a stupid, cruel assumption to make. The kind of thing Tommy would have said in high school. The kind of thing Steve would have laughed at, a few years ago. Now, though, Steve's stomach dropped somewhere he couldn't feel it, leaving only a hollow pit behind. Was it by simple virtue of that word– Grimm, Steve thought with a daze –that made Robin so sure he was capable of something so foul? Or was it something he had done, once, when he had been so desperate for approval? He didn't think that even King Steve at his worst had been so horrible to earn him this.

Steve stuttered, his breath caught in his throat. Dustin had no such trouble.

"Hey!" Dustin said, his voice going squeaky with anger. "That's my best friend you're talking to."

Robin looked at him with as much condescension as Carol Perkins had ever managed, her nose twitching with disgust. "You don't know what he's like, kid."

Unfortunately for her, Dustin Henderson was the one child on planet earth who didn't deign to even acknowledge being treated like one. "I'm pretty sure I know him better than you . I don't know where you got your information, but Steve has saved my life multiple times, and–"

"I really don't think she needs to know about all that," Steve said quickly. His heart was rabbiting in his chest just thinking about trying to explain away stories about demodogs and lab experiments to a girl who already hated his guts.

"Do your parents know that you've been hanging out with a Grimm?" Robin asked, apparently ignoring the saving-Dustin's-life thing. Thank god.

Dustin stiffened, probably because Mrs. Henderson absolutely would freak if she knew Steve was any kind of Wesen, much less one bad enough for all the shit Robin had been talking. "I don't know what a Grimm is," Dustin said, eventually, his voice oddly stilted. "But it doesn't matter. He's Steve ."

For once, Robin looked as confused as Steve felt, like, 75% of the time. "You honestly don't know– Hold on." She snapped and turned to Steve. "You. When you said you didn't know what a Grimm was, you just weren't playing dumb?"

"No," Steve said, and it came out a plea. "My parents never told me any of this shit, if they're even my parents–" And that felt wrong to say, bad to say, because Steve didn't know who he was without being Bradley Harrington's son first. "--and you're only, like, the third Wesen I've ever met."

"You couldn't ask ?"

Steve swallowed back the snarky answer, knowing what Robin was really asking. "What was I supposed to do, call my parents up like, 'Hi Mom and Dad, sorry to interrupt your very important meeting, I was wondering if you knew anything about us being monsters'? Does that sound like a conversation I should have on the phone?" It didn't help that Steve was pretty sure the government had been tracking his phone calls since 1983.

"But…" Robin's eyes narrowed, shifting back to their human shape and color. "You started working here two months ago."

Steve nodded, stomach churning. "Yeah."

"So are you going to tell us what a Grimm is or not?" Dustin said. When Steve finally looked over at him, he still looked pissed, arms crossed and glaring, but Steve recognized that sparkle in his eyes. Little shit was ecstatic to be learning the lore behind Steve's whole deal, that was more than apparent.

That made one of them.

"I only know what my parents have told me," Robin said, slowly. She wouldn't look Steve in the eyes anymore, which wasn't exactly a great sign. Steve's throat contracted, forcing bile back down. "I've never met one in real life, before Harrington. I honestly wasn't sure they were still real. I thought they were… I don't know, stupid stories that parents tell to make their kids behave, you know? Like the boogie man."

"But you knew Steve was one," Dustin said. Less of a question, more of an interrogation. Point out their own contradictions, wait for more information. Steve was pretty sure he'd picked that one up from watching Hopper grill Mike.

"His eyes," Robin said. Her eyes darted up to meet Steve's gaze for only a moment before they fell back to the floor. "The stories all have them. Black mirrors that show you all the worst parts of yourself, every sin you've ever committed. It's supposed to be, like… Making you repent before, you know. They kill you."

"So I'm a killer?" Steve said, his tongue numb in his mouth.

Robin grimaced. "Kinda? They used to be… like knights, I think. In service to the Royals– Wait, do you know about the Seven Houses?"

"The Royals," Steve muttered to himself, in a daze.

"We'll go back to that," Dustin said, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eye. "What were you saying about knights?"

"Right, so the Grimms worked as knights while the Seven Houses were establishing their claims in the Wesen world. It was basically a way for them to keep their Wesen subjects in line so that the royals could focus on human affairs. But then… Well, I don't really know what happened, but they stopped being knights and became…" Robin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Vigilantes?"

"Like Batman?" Dustin asked, disbelieving.

"More like the Punisher."

"Can we please talk in a language the person whose existence hinges on this conversation can understand?" Steve asked, his voice rising in volume with every word.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Harrington," Robin said, her voice coming quicker than he had ever heard her speak before. "They kill people, okay? Sure, it's usually, like, Wesen who have killed humans before or whatever but there are stories of them just going to town on entire packs of predator species before. My dad's even told me of some groups of Grimm who kill Wesen on sight so they don't have the opportunity to commit crimes later. And it's like, do I really think the high school bully is a serial killer? No, not really, but it's really hard to externalize that when I have vivid memories of my mom telling me about how her great-great-great-great-grandmother's head got put on a spike outside the city walls for selling love potion to some stupid humans."

"Oh, that's– Sorry for your loss," Dustin said, automatically.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "You know I didn't know her, right?"

Steve heard neither of them through the rushing in his ears. Was it just him, or were the walls closer together than they had been five minutes ago? The floor felt malleable beneath his feet, like he was standing on top of water. Steve stumbled over to a table and sat gingerly, his hands shaking.

He wasn't exactly sure how long had passed when Dustin came to him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Steve?" he said, tentatively. "You okay?" Robin stood behind him, concern breaking through her careful nonchalance.

"Hopper was wrong," he said, thickly. "I am a monster."

"No–" Dustin began, but Robin cut him off with a scoff.

"We're all kind of monsters, Harrington, it comes with the territory," she said with a sneer. "At least you still look human."

"Yeah?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "How many people do you think Dustin's ancestors killed? Matter of fact, have you ever heard of a single Grimm that wasn't a killer?" Even though the question was mostly sarcastic, some part of him still hoped she would defy him, give him some proof that he wasn't meant to be a terrible person. His eyes watched her face twist in embarrassment.

"Well… no, I haven't," Robin said, eyes darting towards Dustin.

"Exactly," Steve said, nodding even as his shoulders deflated. "Exactly, exactly. I'm meant to… I'm meant to be a terrible person, and nothing I do– Nothing I've ever done–" Steve took a deep breath, felt it rattle in his chest, heard it wheeze through the throat that was quickly closing around his rising panic.

"Oh, you're–" Dustin shook his head, turning to Robin. "He's– Do you have a back room?"

"Uh, yeah, behind the counter," Robin said, blinking.

"Alright, help me get him back there."

Things got a little hazy after that. Steve wasn't sure how they got him to the back room, although he had the vague impression of his arms looped over both their shoulders, off jerking away from Robin's touch with a pained noise. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair in the back, Robin perched on the far counter, Dustin's hands on his shoulders.

"Steve, can you hear me?" Dustin said, and from the lack of inflection in his voice, Steve had the inclination that it wasn't the first time he'd been asked.

"Yeah," he croaked.

"Good," Dustin said, relief flooding his face. "I think you're having another panic attack."

Steve flushed with shame. He hadn't one of those in months, since the chill had finally faded from the air and every night stopped reminding him of junkyards and tunnels and blue Camaros. In comparison, this seemed a little pathetic, but even that small amount of logic couldn't shake the fact that his brain was still sending him signals of flee danger predator run .

When Steve didn't answer, Dustin squeezed his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want us to leave?"

"We are not leaving a Grimm whose brain is god knows where alone in the back room where there are weapons– " Robin began.

"You are not helping," Dustin interrupted through gritted teeth.

"She's right," Steve rasped. "We have no idea what I might do. You've seen what I try to do when my instincts go haywire."

"You haven't actually done anything!" Dustin said, a none too gentle reminder. His anger was palpable, and Steve thought distantly of Hopper, of how disappointed he would be. Steve was going to be sick. "Remember your theory? You said that you thought the mirrored eyes were more like an evolutionary protection, maybe–"

"Maybe I was literally born a murderer to protect myself?" Steve asked, laughing as the first tear slipped down his cheek. "I was wrong, Dustin. It happens. All the fucking time, apparently, because I've spent the last two years wondering how to be a good person, when it's impossible."

"That's not how it–"

"I'm supposed to kill you, Dustin," Steve said, harshly. "You heard her. You and El should both be dead, and maybe one day you will be."

Steve watched the stubbornness set into Dustin's face and felt his heart break. He's never really wanted to hurt someone. Not really. That was why he kept losing all those stupid fucking fights, why he let Tommy push him around. Steve wanted to survive, and he wanted to protect, but he's never looked someone in the eyes and wanted to hurt them. But he could feel it in his chest, all the fucking time– that same rage he'd first felt when Dustin woged in front of him. And no matter how much Steve didn't want it, he was sure that one day it would swallow him whole.

"I don't believe that," Dustin said, "not for a fucking second."

"What about my parents, Dustin?" Steve asked, meeting Dustin's eyes. For the first time, he wished that people didn't see the worst of themselves in his eyes, but the worst of Steve. That would keep them safe, wouldn't it? If they could see into his chest, at the sharp and jagged things there? "They're gone for months at a time–"

"They're doing business!"

"And they're all over the country, sometimes in Europe or Asia, and what the fuck do you think they're doing, Dustin? Like actually. Because I haven't bought the business excuse in years, and I know you're smarter than me, so what else could it be? I thought they were partying, or cheating on each other, or even just doing some regular fucking crime, but no–" Steve sobbed, the noise being pulled out of his chest. "Apparently, they might be killing people. What does that make me ?"

"It doesn't make you anything," Dustin said, jaw set. "Even if you're right, which you're not ."

"So you're not afraid of what might happen if you're staying the night the next time they come home?"

Dustin hesitated, and Steve knew he had him. It fucking hurt, every second of it. Felt like removing his own skin with a scalpel, slow and methodical and never-ending, but it had to be done. He had to get Dustin away from danger, and right now the most dangerous thing in Hawkins was him.

"Kid, can you give us a second?" Robin's voice cut through the air and Steve flinched, his entire body twitching as his gaze was ripped away from Dustin.

Stepping away, Dustin rubbed at his nose in a move that Steve knew had been picked up from him. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He couldn't get out of the break room fast enough, the door swinging behind him.

"That was fucked up," Robin said as she hopped down from the counter.

"Wasn't this exactly what you wanted?" Steve said, frustration and resentment built up from the past two months bubbling in his chest. "Him away from the monster?"

Robin hesitated for a moment, then continued her short walk to the chair across from Steve. As she sat, she said, "I never called you a monster."

"No, just a serial killer and a beast and a thousand other things around 'monster'," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

He had honestly expected her to rise to the bait. She was the exact kind that was the easiest to torment, emotions too big for her body and never afraid to speak her mind until it was already out of her mouth. Robin didn't speak this time, though, just looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed.

Eventually, she sighed, and turned away from him. "I'm sorry."

Steve scoffed, disbelieving. "Okay."

"No, I am. I… didn't really think about what it might mean if you actually didn't know, and I had no idea that I was putting people in danger by not explaining," she said, her hands in fists on her legs. She still wouldn't look at him, and Steve felt his stomach twist further. He had to get out of here before he vomited on the linoleum.

"Well, you figured it out, and now they're safe, so if you'll please excuse me–"

"No," Robin said, stilling him with a glare. "I meant you, dingus."

"... Dingus?" Steve repeated. It was… oddly juvenile, after all the things she'd called him.

Robin flushed. "I don't actually think you're, like, a killer or anything. Especially since you obviously haven't killed anyone. I just thought…" Her eyes slid away from him again. "You know, with Barb last year…"

Nausea hit Steve in the stomach and he had to bend over, pressing his face to the cool surface of the table, to keep himself from gagging. "You thought I killed Barb?" He hated how small his voice sounded, suddenly, nothing like the rage-fueled creature he felt like he was becoming.

"Obviously I was being an idiot because killers don't fucking have panic attacks in the dark about being a killer," Robin said. Steve wasn't sure that was entirely true, but he got her point. "I mean, like I said before, I stopped believing that shit like two weeks in. If you were actually a serial killer, I would be, like, so dead right now."

"I never wanted to hurt you," Steve said, tired.

"I know," Robin said, frowning. "And that's why I'm saying, I was an asshole, and I'm sorry."

Steve swallowed. "It's fine."

"It's really not," Robin said. "I could tell it made you upset, and it gave me this sick little thrill to finally know what got to King Steve, you know? Like I finally had something over you. And it made me feel…"

"Powerful?" Steve suggested when her words trailed off.

"Yeah," Robin said, her face pale.

"I get it," Steve said, shrugging. "Why do you think I was such an asshole in high school?"

Robin gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, I never wanted to be that kind of person. So… You know, just because you were born a Grimm doesn't mean you have to be like them."

Looking away, Steve said nothing. He'd already had the suspicion there was something wrong with him, Robin had just confirmed it. Her taking it back hadn't really changed his mind. Robin seemed to get that, and she squirmed in her seat for a moment.

"I never told you what I am, did I?" she said, softly.

"... No," Steve said, frowning. "I thought maybe some kind of weasel?"

That made her laugh, shaking her head as she smiled down at her hands. "Yeah, I guess maybe I deserve that. No, I'm a– I'm a Fuchsbau. A fox." The smile began to slip from her face, fists unclenching and curling back into claws again and again as she spoke. "That's part of why I freaked out so hard when I first recognized you as a Grimm. We're a predator species, you know? But not one of the big guys, not scary enough that they leave us alone. We're just mean . And… and sneaky . And cruel."

Steve watched her, unable to speak. He had seen a little of that from her, over the past few weeks, so he wasn't entirely sure he was justified in defending her own self-worth, but… even as she said it, something didn't feel right to Steve. Sure, she was dick to him, like, specifically, but Steve had never seen her speak a harsh word to anyone else they worked with. Robin was usually pretty bored with customers, yeah, but she was patient, too.

And whatever harshness did exist in her, it certainly wasn't subtle .

"That's why my parents moved here, you know. Fuchsbau don't usually have packs, and so it's kinda just… you and a bunch of Wesen who expect you to rip them off at the first chance," Robin continued, "so they came here to try and start fresh. And I don't think they ever really fit into what a Fuchsbau is supposed to be, and most times I'm pretty sure I don't, either, but sometimes…."

Robin shrugged. "Sometimes I'm afraid it's somewhere inside of me, just waiting to get out."

Oh.

This was one of those pep talks that made Steve squirm, the kind where teachers and coaches and counselors all promised Steve that they absolutely understood what he was going through. As if they could understand what he was feeling through the little he'd actually admitted, as if the simple act of relation was enough to soothe the ache in his chest. Knowing other people hurt didn't make him bleed any less, but… it didn't chafe to hear it from Robin, like it did with the dozens of adults before him. He wasn't sure she actually understood, but at least she was trying. At least she wasn't just assuming things. Not anymore, anyway.

"It's not exactly the same thing," Robin said, when Steve didn't speak. "But I–"

"No, no." Steve's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks. I think I needed to hear that. You're right, it's not exactly the same, but… But I think I might be able to fight this."

"That's not exactly what I…" Robin said, then shook her head, standing. "Anyway, you should head home for the night."

Steve blinked up at her. "I'm on schedule until closing."

Shrugging, Robin said, "We're dead, and, no offense, but you're probably not going to be much help tonight, anyway. I'll cover you. Just… get some sleep, Harrington."

It was part of an apology Steve still wasn't convinced he completely deserved, but he wasn't in the position to refuse favors. "... Thanks."

They walked into the lobby together, Steve's skin crawling with the oddity of feeling Robin standing with him and not just by him. He was grateful, but there was a voice in his head whispering that it would all end one day, and he would find her claws in his throat.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Dustin barely spoke as Steve drove him home, only to nearly tackle him in a hug before he got out of the car. Tried not to think about how he couldn't pop in to say hi to Mrs. Henderson because she would think– she would know –that he was a monster. Tried not to think much at all, really.

Steve found himself driving to the cabin on muscle memory alone, and didn't even notice the direction he was driving until the streetlights gave way to the shadowy cradle of the woods. He parked in the grass, climbed the steps stiffly, paused between every movement as Steve ruminated on the effort it took.

Hopper didn't look up from the stove as Steve came in. It was chili night, a tradition built around one of the few dishes Hopper had achieved consistency in. Maybe that was why Steve had come here– Something in him knew he was expected here. People were waiting for him. He was wanted.

Steve felt tears well in his eyes.

"Steve?" Hopper clicked off the gas on the stove, turning. "Did… did work go okay?"

The dam broke. Everything came pouring out, the tears, the half-explanations Robin had given him, the terrible truths he now was sure of. Everything poured out of Steve at once, until he was sitting on the couch, gasping for air. Hopper watched him through all of it, never saying a word. His face gave nothing away, and that only made it worse– Steve kept talking and talking, trying to find the words that would make Hopper feel something. Anything.

Eventually, the terror took over his brain and he fell silent, but his throat still clenched around unformed words.

"I've told you before, I'm not afraid of you, kid," Hopper said, slowly, but before Steve could protest, he continued, "but you have a right to be concerned about it, you know, in general. It might be you, it might not. But if there's some kind of Wesen vigilante, after everything that's happened in Hawkins in the past two years, one of them's bound to cause trouble sometime."

"So we just– We gotta figure out how to take one down," Steve said, his hands shaking.

"I figure shooting 'em will work just as well as it would on anyone else," Hopper said, dryly, "but I don't think you have to worry about that."

"No, no, you can–" Steve flushed at the sudden sharpness on Hopper's face. "Look, if I'm actively hurting people, I'm too far gone, anyway. Have Nancy do it. She'll get a kick out of it."

Hopper rolled his eyes, then sighed, rubbing at his face with one large hand. "And what if it's your parents, Steve?"

That threw him. Because Steve had considered that his parents were the kind of Grimms Steve was terrified to become, yeah. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Steve had always been anxious around them, for no reason he could really put a name to. They weren't bad parents, exactly, just a little absent. They had never denied him anything, never hit him, never even really yelled. But Steve still flinched every time his father raised a hand to clasp him on the shoulder. Steve still shied away from his mother's gaze.

Steve had always thought it had something to do with all the repression, the constant striving to live up to the Harrington name. That had been enough of an answer for him. Besides, the older he got, the less he had to deal with it, so what did it even matter?

The idea that it might be something more sinister still hadn't prepared him for the concept of actually doing something about it, though. Sure, he had proposed the idea of them being dangerous to Dustin, but it wasn't like they were killing people and burying them behind the Hawkins Lab.

"Do you think they already are?" Steve asked, face twisting. "There were genetic experiments on Wesen in the town they lived in. How did they not–"

Hopper shrugged. "I don't know for sure, kid. Speaking as a cop, if their thought process is anything like mine, they probably don't pursue leads they consider out of their jurisdiction, and it wasn't like the lab was advertising. Will was the first Hawkins kid to go missing, remember?"

"They were out of town when he disappeared," Steve said, relief evident. "They didn't get home until he was back."

"I can't promise you anything, Steve, and you're probably gonna want to have it out with them yourself. But your parents have been in and out of Hawkins for two decades now, and it's not exactly like we've got stacks and stacks of cold case murders rotting away at the station. If they're causing problems, it's not here," Hopper said.

Steve leaned back against the couch cushions, finally letting himself relax. "We just have to make sure they don't find out about El."

"There you go," Hopper said, reaching out to slap Steve on the knee. It would have felt condescending from anyone else, but it was the most physical affection that Steve had ever seen Hopper give anyone besides Joyce and El. "Feel better with a task, right?"

"Yeah, actually," Steve admitted. It did feel good, even though it was a small, vague goal that honestly Steve kinda hoped he never had to worry about. Still, having something clear in his head to strive for made him feel solid, grounded, and he felt like an actual person again for the first time all day.

If Grimms were as bad as Robin made them out to be, then someone needed to protect Hawkins from them. Steve could be that person, if he needed to be, even if the threat was just his own reflection.

[Next Chapter]

---

taglist: @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch

#my fic #only i must wander #grimm au #steddie #i hope its ok im tagging this steddie even tho eddie's not actually in it yet #he's going to be !! they'll kiss eventually and everything!!#rn it's #stobin #time tho :)#i just thought about how long its going to be until steve and eddie kissed and got dizzy see yall complete only ficcers next millennia #this au ate my brain i don't wanna talk about it #i'll try to have pt 3 out next sunday #no promises tho bc wayne shows up and i fucking love writing someone with my accent for once #THIS MAN IS NEVER GONNA SHUT UP #did i assign roles so that i could pretend my uncle is the one infodumping all the exposition and worldbuilding? maybe #i'm allowed

64 notes · View notes