#at a wall to see what stuck over time.. there's maybe 2 or 3 different iterations of Gioia on there ^w^

[poptartmochi]

incredibly funny to return to gioia's roadmap document and see [THE DEMON] everywhere... haagenti truly was an elusive fucker for some time

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[diyahatnight]

Genshin men NSFW head canons

Warnings: This isn’t porn with a plot, it’s more of the sexual life of your relationship!

Minor’s dni

You can read the non nsfw version

Parings: Childe, Kazuha, Venti, Zhongli, Ayato, Wanderer, Xiao, Diluc, and Cyno X F! reader

Summary: These are head cannons and mini stories of your sex life with these characters, after your relationship started getting serious.

Notes: This is a modern au with phones and sending text messages. It also always seems so out of character for me when i write nsfw stuff. Please excuse my grammar mistakes <3

Childe

You haven’t seen your boyfriend for a while so you decided to go visit him at the golden house for a little. You did this often whenever you missed him so when he sees you enter he’s not surprised “Hey girlie.” You go over and give him a hug and he hugs you back. “Since you’re here how about we spar?” he asks you that every time you come and visit him. There is only one condition, if he wins, he gets to fuck you. But if you win he still gets to fuck you. There’s no escaping it. He loved when you came in and visited him because every time he had you pinned against the wall with your legs over his shoulders while he pounded into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. This was his most favorite place to fuck. You never admitted it but you sometimes come and visit him when you’re horny and craved his fat cock.

Kazuha

Kazuha would be out at sea for a very long time, longer than usual. And you missed him sooooo much. For some reason you always found yourself on a tiny boat next to a large one which happens to be Beidou’s ship. They pull you in wondering what the hell you were doing in the middle of the ocean and you had no idea either. You told them how long you’ve been out there and they were shocked to hear that you’ve been at sea without food and water for a week, wondering how you’re still alive. After they fed you and gave you some water Beidou told Kazuha to take you to his personal cabin so you could shower and get some warm clothes, so he did. He had you laying on the bed in an instant. He had locked the door when y’all first came in the room. He had planned to fuck you before you the both of you went inside the cabin. He always slowly inserted himself until he bottomed out. To him, fucking you and making love with you was 2 different things. So he was going to make you feel good slow, and sensually. y’all are gonna be in there for a while as he had you cumming on his cock multiple times before he pulled out and came on your stomach, and beidou new that. As that wasn’t your first time in his cabin, that’s why you were so familiar with it.

Venti

Venti loved ovulation week so much, that sweet smell that came from you turned him on so much. As he was the anemo archon, he was able to smell basically everything. So when he came home drunk as hell you had to bathe him like a child. You were wearing a nightgown and no panties because you were in the middle of changing and when he came home he interrupted you. That sweet smell was so strong and was calling his name he pulled you inside the bathtub with your nightgown still on and stuck his hard cock inside you with no warning. He wanted to taste and see if you were as sweet as you smelled but he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet so fucking you on spot was his next best option.

Bonus: When your sex life with him started you didn’t expect much from him because he’s a little man and doesn’t seem like the type that carries something heavy in his pants, but you didn’t mind. You had completely forgot that he had the ability to shape shift, so you were shocked at the bulge a lone, but when he pulled it out your jaw was on the floor. Maybe that’s why he was so small and skinny but so heavy…

Zhongli

Zhongli’s cock is HUGE no questions asked. He’s about 9-10 inches, you think more about 11 but he doesn’t believe so. It’s more on the thick side so it’s quite heavy and the boners are outrageous. You decided to mess with him in public once and it was your worse decision of your life. When y’all got home that day he scolded you for being childish for grinding yourself on his cock. But he fucked you on the spot in public, in front of people. Secretly though, and nobody noticed, somehow. Nobody noticed how you arched your back on him and how your eyes rolled back when you had an orgasm on his cock. Luckily your skirt concealed the connection.

Ayato

Ayato had once done something that felt illegal. During a meeting he had you under the table giving him head. He told you to be careful and not make any noises while you sucked on his cock under the table. You felt like you were going to get in trouble if you got found out, but Ayato assured you that you wouldn’t he’s just doing it privately so the people don’t think down on him. It shocked you when he asked you to do this because he doesn’t seem like the type of person to be interested. The whole time he was talking he had a straight face not expressing pleasure at all, it wasn’t a struggle to hide it but he accidentally paused when he came inside your mouth. After the short pause he continued to talk like he didn’t just empty his balls down your throat. After the meeting is over he tells the last person out to lock the door after them so he could pull you out and bend you over the table.

Wanderer (Hat guy/ Kuni)

This man has absolutely no fears. You wanted to go and find Tighnari so he could teach you how to make some medicines and your boyfriend Kuni decided to accompany you. You and him kept messing around and he pushed you inside a pond, you came out soaking wet and your clothes see through, and that turned him on. You found a nice lady and she allowed you to go in and dry your clothes and change. Kuni followed in and sat on the toilet, the bathroom was quite small but it was fine. You got completely naked and he watched you as you undressed, with absolutely no shame and visibly getting hard. He pulled you onto his lap and just got to the point, fucked you cowgirl style but he was ramming into you hard and all you hear is skin slapping and concealed moans. The lady heard and was disgusted, you felt bad for having sex in a random lady’s home but Kuni didn’t care. When the both of you walked out she was gonna confront you but the glare your boyfriend gave her scared the hell out of her.

Xiao

He was inexperienced when you first met him all he new was what sex was. After being with him for a while he was open to anything so he did anything you pleased, anything that you asked for. He pleased your every sexual desire, when you told him what you think would feel really good. He’d look at porn videos to get visuals, you told him what porn was and ever since then he got all his moves from there. He randomly started being experienced and you were kinda scared when he had you cumming 3 times on his cock before he even came once.

Diluc

He’s such a calm lovable sweet partner, and he does whatever he can to please you. And whatever he can to have you screaming his name. If you come and visit him at the winery while nobody is around and it’s just the two of you, he’s having his own special serving. He doesn’t initiate the first move, but when you start he won’t stop until you have had at least 2 orgasms and him 1. He likes to make you take him over the counter or in the back, he’s a freak in hiding. He honestly doesn’t care if the two of you get caught because it’s his winery, he doesn’t care if he traumatizes some kids eyes, why would you let your kid wander inside of a winery that’s not his fault. They could probably hear you screaming his name too, that parent should have known what the slurred “Diluc” followed by a couple cuss words and skin slapping was, and not even let that child near the winery while there was another child in the process of being made. After he’s satisfied, he stops being super bold then apologizes to you, then pray to the archons after the fact that nobody saw or heard him and you.

Cyno

You have so much access to this man’s body anytime you please, he’s half naked all the time so your hands are everywhere. Once you, Cyno, Tighnari, and Collei were just exploring the desert and Cyno thought of a new joke and really wanted to tell you, even though he knew you didn’t like them. (idk bout y’all but i personally like his jokes) He was really excited to tell you this one but he had to do it in private. When Tighnari walked ahead and Collei followed him he took this as his time to tell you the most sexual joke known to man. He also told you how nice you looked, and you actually laughed but the joke kinda made you horny. You were all over touching his body and at one point your hand started to trail down a little too far, while standing behind the innocent. He had to pull you to a private cave with no monsters and fuck your brains straight. He said that you were just thinking with your little cunt and you said “Yeah and she craves your attention.” so he gave it to you.

I just KNOW Zhongli, Childe, and Diluc’s dicks are huge, have y’all seen that thing on tiktok of how you can see their pp animation? They all got third legs oml.

[froggoon]

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She's my Angel I Five Hargreeves x Reader

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Post Apocalypse Au! pt.2

WC: ~3,258 Warnings/Tags: Sexual Tension, Mentions of Abuse, Agedup!Five, Mentions of previous trauma, 18+

Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved the world, the Commission is no longer after them, the moon is in one piece and everyone’s lives start to fall back into place. Five attempts to start his life over again when Klaus brings home a girl with unusual shadow powers. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

˚

The Apocalypse was over and Five Hargreaves did what he did best, drink and cope. The first few weeks of freedom he tried things he had missed early on in his childhood. It started when Viktor took him shopping for a new, more appropriate wardrobe, that someone who looked his age would wear. Then he would often visit the park just to admire the beauty of places that were once a baron landscape. And sometimes he just spent his time reading catching up on what he missed in the last few years.

But old habits die hard when you spend 54 years alone and the next 2 weeks desperate to save yourself and save your family. Maybe Klaus was right when he called the apocalypse his drug because, for a while, it was all he’d ever know.

Five hadn’t slept well in a long time and despite his newfound freedom without the looming feeling of impending doom. He would find himself waking up at 4 am to check his window and just to see if everything was real.

The Academy had been empty for a bit, the first week his family had stayed back to collect themselves, celebrate, and appreciate one another but slowly their lives fell back into place. Allison went back to Claire wanting to get back her career and her daughter back. Luther wanted to find his independence and took a small helping from his inheritance to live on his own. Diego and Lila had also moved out in hopes of continuing to grow their relationship and perhaps find happiness in normalcy. Viktor, now confident in himself wanting to explore the world more began traveling and meeting new people. To Five it felt like everyone had moved on, except him. He had been the one to jump through time, and now he felt like he was stuck in it.

However this morning, his silent coffee and breakfast time was interrupted but a surprisingly sober Klaus barging through the door with a girl no taller than 5’3 who looked as if she had been dragged through the mud and a forest in his arms.

“I didn’t know where to bring her she ran into me frantic and couldn’t speak much,”

“There wasn’t anyone chasing her so I have no idea where she came from and she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Klaus looked panicked, he felt bad for the beat-up girl in his arms but what could he do besides bring her to the place he knew could help her best.

Grace and Pogo immediately took action, bringing the girl into the spare room to care for her wounds.

“What makes you think you can just bring random people in here? She could be dangerous?”

Five arched his eyebrow at Klaus’s behavior. He wasn’t a trusting man but he trusted his brother’s intuition and the girl genuinely looked like she needed help.

“I couldn’t just leave her on the road. I’m not a bad person Five. There’s something different about her I swear.”

Five looked distrustful at what his brother was saying.

“Well, we’ll just have to see when she wakes up.”

The two went back to doing their own things in the Academy waiting for you to wake up.

————————-3 days later————————

The sun shone brightly in the room you stayed at. Your eyes slowly opened, blinking harshly to adjust to the shining light. You had no idea where you were, this new place was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Warm wood furniture decorated the walls, and the mattress you slept on seemed more comfy, soft, and warmer than your old hay-filled cot. Unsurprisingly your wounds ached but were clean nevertheless. You jumped when the door swung open to reveal a monkey? no an ape? in a suit. "Ah you're finally awake, Ill let the others know"

"I am Pogo by the way, please rest, we don't want your stitches reopening." Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you listened to his words and laid back, staring at the large high ceilings waiting to see if whoever brought you here would be your like your old doctors. Back downstairs Pogo noticed Five pacing around in the living room. "Any troubles worrying you?" "Yes that girl, I can't find any information about her, she had no ID, no name card, I even looked around the area trying to track back where she came from, and nothing." Five glanced around, more cautious of his surroundings

"What if the commission sent her?" "This is not good, not good at all"

And with a quick turn, he teleported to the room of which his unwelcome guest occupied. A flash of blue interrupted your daydreams when a boy about your age in a green flannel, cargo pants, with slightly long side parted hair entered your space. Besides appearing out of nowhere he looked almost normal, but that didn't stop you from being scared. Shivering you pushed yourself back on the bed as far as you could to try to get away from him. Sensing your fear Five held out his hands as a way to show you some form of peace. Lowering one hand he slowly approached you. But the closer he came the farther back you shuffled. Something wasn't right Five thought. You were terrified of him, what had happened to you to cause you to be in such a state.

Hey Im not going to hurt you, I don't know who you are but Im not going to hurt you." Five could see that you weren't budging so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hazelnut toffee-flavored candy. He wasn't a big fan of sweets but had kept some from his last visit to a local coffee shop. "Here you must be a little hungry, it's good to see." He popped it in his mouth to show her that it was safe, not a trick. Slowly you reached out and touched his hand, grabbing the little treat, unwrapping it before letting the gooey sweet melt on your tongue. Five smiled at your reaction. "See? It was good." He thought you looked adorable with big doe eyes waiting to see if he had any more. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out another handle full of candies. "Ill give you one each time you answer a question. Can you do that for me?" You nodded slowly. "Okay, can you tell me your name?" "Angel" you pointed to yourself "Five" you pointed to him. You had heard Klaus shouting his name when you entered the house. "Angel? Do you have a last time?" "Five. Five Hargreeves" He pointed to himself. "Angel" You repeated. Okay maybe you didn't have a last name that was fine, at least he had gotten a name. He gave you another candy and watched you excitedly open it. "Okay Angel, another question where did you come from? Who or what were you running from?" "Doctor" you responded looking down. "What Doctor? What did he do to you." You felt like you should have known better than to trust the boy in front of you, but he looked so earnest so sweet, that you decided to show him your secret. Opening your fist a ball of shadows appeared in your hand before you tossed it into the air letting whatever light was in the room dissipate. Five knew what this had suggested. Whoever took you, held you captive, and experimented on you. Perhaps they were trying to make you into one of the unlucky 43. Another candy was handed to you.

“Show me more” Five demanded. You blinked at him slowly before he put another candy in your hand. “Show me.”

You looked at him and brought both your hands up into the air. He watched shadows run from the ground into the room and swirl around you. It appeared you could summon shadows at your will and control them.

“Good girl” and another candy as placed in your hand. "Tell me, Angel, do you know where or who it was? Do you know the name of the commission?" You stared at him blankly not understanding what he said. Before Five could ask any more questions Klaus had burst through the door. "My Angel! You are okay !" As he rushed towards you to grab your face. Stunned you jolted back from his presence. "Angel, that's why she called herself that, it's not her name, it’s what you called her!" Five went to smack Klaus in the back of the head when his hand was stopped by a shadow. "No hurt, Klaus friend" With heart eyes, Klaus dove into Angel's arms "LOOK AT MY ANGEL PROTECTING ME!!" With the gentleness of a newborn deer, Angel reached out to Klaus with a small sweet in her hand. "Candy?" "For me? Of course, Angel thank you!" Rolling his eyes at the scene Five teleported to his room to think. Where had this girl come from she had no name could barely speak and had a dark power with unknown consequences. Angel clad in Umbrella Academy uniform, and Klaus were in the living room when a flash appeared in the doorway. "Cinco! Where are you off to?" "Library I need to do some research." But just before he would reach for the doorknob a body was flung into his back. "Here take Angel with you, she needs a new set of clothes, can't have her wearing this uniform, you know all about that wouldn't you?" Klaus said as he shoved Angel forward. "I don't have time, I'm not a babysitter." Five expressed as he grabbed your arms and pushed you back. "Five...mad?" You looked up at Five with tears in your eyes. Reaching out to his face with his hand you softly pet his cheek. "Five...happy. Happy"

The time travelers face softened at the kindness you showed while trying to console him.

“I’m sorry Angel, yes Five is happy. Come on let’s go.”

He grabbed your hand ignoring the feeling of his heart when your soft skin wrapped around his.

————————-In the Car—————————

“Alright Angel, as cute as you look in the uniform we have to get you some normal clothes.”

Five looked over at you, but you were looking out the window. His green eyes passed over the cuts on your legs and the faint but visible bruises on your neck. It wondered him how someone could do this to you, turn a girl who seemed like an Angel into a shadow user. He parked the car at Gimble's before flashing to your side of the door to open it, Five was still a gentleman after all. "Okay now Angel, we're here to buy you some new clothes." You nodded your head to show you understood him and hopped out of the car excited to see the world around you. Being locked up for so long you had forgotten what the outside world looked like. Today the sky was blue with warm gusts of winds filling the air. People and families were seen chattering about. You reached out to grab Five's arm and pulled him closer to the store. Five chucked at your childlike antics, letting himself be whisked away by you. You dragged him to the dress section; some of the kinder doctors had given you books to look at to pass the time, many of them being princess books. There were cute frilly dresses that caught your eye immediately. Rushing forward you grabbed 3 dresses that might have suited you. With a sigh Five grabbed your shoulders wanting to tell you to go find some more practical everyday clothes. But after seeing the glimmer in your eye as if you found the most priceless thing...he couldn't bear take that away from you. "Come on Princess, let's go try them on." He ushered you to the changing room and waited outside. As he turned his back you grabbed his hand, but Five had yanked it back at the unexpected contact. He wasn't completely used to physical touch yet.

Ignoring this you grabbed his hand once more and tried to take him into the dressing room with you. "No Angel I can't go with you, just put on the dresses inside and Ill wait out here."

You had refused to let go of his hand. With another sign he allowed himself to be pulled into the confined space of the changing room. You quickly shimmied out of the uniform skirt and tie throwing it into a random corner. Five's face turned a deep scarlet red, although he was an older man the sight of your small and barely clothes body was enough to make him shift in his pants. Before he could embarrass himself any further he blinked out into the waiting room fanning his face as if he ran a marathon. There were small warning signs in his brain, don't get too attached, she doesn't know better, please don't get a boner right now. Trying to collect himself he put his hands in his face wanting to be anywhere but here right now. You interrupted his train of thought when you came out bouncing with a big smile on your face. The dress you picked out was a cute white summer dress that was white had thick straps tied on your shoulders. The skirt part stopped right above your knees and flared out with a twirl. You looked absolutely adorable, an Angel who wielded the power of a devil. "You look...beautiful" Five muffled through his hand. "Beautiful?" You questioned. "Yes you, Angel, you are beautiful." And as if your smile couldn't get any bigger, you ran and jumped into Five, his arms slowly wrapping around your frame to prevent you from falling.

"Five! Beautiful!" You smiled and pointed at him. Your fingers had graced his cheeks into a smile. Pointing at his dimple "Five! Beautiful" you repeated. "Oh, you think I'm beautiful Angel?" Five couldn't help but also feel happy and continue smiling, something about you felt like a breath of fresh air. His last few weeks had been nonstop paranoia and feeling the effects of an identity crisis, but hearing your laughter and seeing you call him beautiful, it felt as if he was actually living again. However, that didn't stop the nagging fear in the back of his mind of where you came from and what had happened to you. Perhaps it was the assassin in him that just couldn't let him...enjoy a moment. "Come on Angel, let’s get the rest of the dresses and pay. We need to head to the library before it closes." You nodded your head and skipped off to grab the rest of your dresses and clothes. You and Five stood at the cashier waiting to pay. "That will be 45.78." Five pulled out a 50 and felt your head lean on his shoulder. "Five, thank you." You looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. As he was retrieving his change you leaned up and placed your soft lips on the corner of his mouth. "Five happy?" He looked down at you and blushed "Yes Five is very happy." ————————The Library—————————- You were sat in Five's lap flipping through a picture book while he was doing research. Unfortunately, there was almost no information about any kind of suspicious activities in the area where they had found you or even how you even got to the city. Five had to expand his research on places that might have to do with experimental tests but with so little access he was found himself at a dead end. "Nothing! Absolutely Nothing!" Five yelled before slamming his notebook on the table. You jumped in his lap and covered your ears, eyes filling with heavy teardrops waiting to fall. "Shit Angel Im sorry come here." He cooed wrapping his arms around you for the fourth time today. Five pressed a kiss to the top of your hair and inhaled slowly. You smelt like a blooming meadow and a hint of cinnamon. Closing his eyes he rested his head on yours. It wasn't been often when he felt a peace like this, heck he didn’t even remember the last time he felt calm, other than when he was drinking or passed out after a mission. Your eyelashes fluttered on his neck as you began to press small kisses on his jawline. "Come on Angel what are you doing?" "Make Five happy. Kiss you" You mumbled and continued leaving marks on his neck and jaw. Five clenched his fists around you "Angel if you keep this us I'm not going to be able to hold back." Five groaned as he pulled you closer into his lap. And with his last bit of resolve, he blinked you guys back into the car. "Come on Angel let's go home." He kissed your cheek slightly to assure you he wasn't mad and drove the two of you back. ————————the academy———————--- "Mi hermano and Angel ! You guys are back" Klaus shouted from the couch he was currently lying on. You ran into the living room jumping in front of Klaus to show off your dress.

"My cutie Angel! You look so pretty!"

Klaus then swept you off your feet and into a fit of giggles. Five, who had been observing the scene from the bar was actively trying to fight off the green monster that was creeping up his heart. "Leave her alone Klaus we had a long day. Come on Angel let's have your shower and get ready for bed." It was obvious you needed to be cared for and Five had already begun to assume the role. Pulling out some extra pajamas Five had in his wardrobe he handed them to you before showing you the bathroom. "Shower here and come back to my room when you are done okay?" You nodded back and went into the bathroom. With a sign Five flopped on his back in bed wondering more about you. How could someone he just met cause him to feel such a way? Maybe it was his messed up time-traveling brain that was causing these emotions but deep down he knew he had a hidden attraction to you. He began to think more about your powers. You couldn't be part of the 43 because you were too young but you also showed an understanding of your abilities and more control than Viktor did when he first found out about his. Five would have to talk to you after you shower about your abilities. Small footsteps padded outside his room before stopping. The door swung open and there you stood wrapped in only a small towel Grace had given you. Five green eyes turned wide as you skipped into his room.. You had turned to grab the pajamas he had left you on the bed and dropped your towel. Five sat up instantly, his eyes wandered over the curve of your breasts and the plumpness of your backside. Being in the apocalypse and focused on getting back home to his family never allowed him much time for romance or women, besides Delores. You stood up as bare as the day you were born, nipples perked up at the cold air and you put the silk top and bottom on. Now properly clothed you turned to Five who was staring at you with eyes that rivaled a burning sun. In a blink, he was in front of you grabbing your waist with such a force it felt like you would disappear if he let go. Bringing his lips to your neck he kissed gently and dragged his face to meet your eyes. Soft despreate lips met plump shy ones as you and Five melted into each other. The kiss grew hungry, more desperate, both parties missing the feel of one another. The two of you fell back onto the bed with Five on top of you. Two souls both isolated from the world finally finding solstice in one another. All the questions Five had for you were gone from his mind, the only thing replacing it was the thought of how your body felt against his. A small hand reached into the front of Five's pants. "I want to help Five" You had whispered into his ear. It was going to be a long night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ Authors note : I kinda of wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night. I’d want to make this into a full series although and go really in depth about Angel who she is and how she got her powers and I defiantly want to bring back the rest of the Hargreaves but I'm not sure when Ill have another creative burst.

[thatdeadaquarius]

I was playing Genius Invocation yesterday, but out of nowhere this idea came to me like tge whispers of an old god.

How would the characters react to knowing they are the creator's favorite card? (Mine are Beidou and Ningguang, but if you are confortable, I would like to know yours as well)

AHDAALLL I HAVENT PLAYED TGI CARD GAME ENOUGH!! SO FOR NOW I RLLY LOVE THE WAY CYNO AND KAEYA'S ART LOOKS (tho diluc does look shmall in his hehe)

Thank you for your patience!! Sorry this is SO FUCKING late :0 and if it’s bad! i havent rlly liked my writing the past couple pieces, so i stuck with some fun headcanons i thought of while kicking me feet and twirling my hair over this question hehehe

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only)

Planet: General SAGAU/Isekai Stuff :)

Orbit: Headcanons

Stars: Beidou, Ningguang, Kaeya, Cyno

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

☆

Beidou:

BIGGEST EGO BOOSTS OF HER LIFE LMAO

SHE WOULD LITERALLY SUBTLY FLEX EVERYTIME UR AROUND IM CRYINGGG

Every fucking port knows she’s a favored one, every goddamn pirate knows it atp, hell maybe even some abyss monsters at sea too-

(Kazuha’s happy for her, but also lowkey jealous)

literally got one of her cards framed and hung in her captain’s quarters, and insisted you sign it omfg-

Ningguang isnt surprised tbh, (she knows u like strong women lol)

Ningguang:

…she gives one of the most smug smirks of her entire fucking life.

All of Liyue is gushing for her, not that she isn’t also excited on the inside, she’s just more proud than anything on the outside/for appearances

Literally set up a whole date meeting that felt like it was about to turn into a goddamn wedding proposal

I’m talking giving handcarved furniture, household necessities but they’re in pretty colors that all match (like a gold tea kettle, gold throw blanket, etc.)

Full nine-yards different kinds of teas, cakes, and all accustomed to your taste

so if u dislike super sweet stuff there are more savory items, the teas can be more bitter, or if u love sweets, this woman is giving you a bakery basically every day for nearly 2 weeks, u dont have enough space in the cabinet for all these teas- help-

Kaeya:

so fucking smug on the outside, def brags about it in Angel’s Share and he’ll only just be tipsy he’s so fucking excited to talk abt it

whenever conversations end or get a lull, he just, “So anyway, our All-Powerful Guide, really likes my TCG card, maybe even above yours, Diluc…”

pls stop him he’s annoying Diluc, and slowly other patrons 😭 (there are bar rules posted on the wall, and Diluc adds one, not for the first time, specifically for Kaeya to stop talking about TCG while in the bar LMAO)

Now all Kaeya has to do is just pull out his card (cough he’s constantly got it in his pocket, the one he asked u to sign cough)

Rosaria just looks the other way like if she can’t see it it’s not real, Diluc will literally be in the middle of making a drink for one of them and just leave it halfdone and attend to somebody else, Venti’s eye twitches-

and the entire bar just groans too LMAOOO

(have a meme I made just for you <3 )

Cyno:

oh no.

Look what you’ve done, you’ve seduced the General Mahamatra!!

Take responsibility, play TCG with him every time you see him now lmao, the only reason all of Sumeru knows you like his card (which makes it all that more desirable to ppl who do play, and collectors)

is bc he talked to Tighnari about it for hourssss, and then it made it’s way down the grapevine, and if they didn’t find out that way, the other was just seeing the usually stern and formidable General Mahamatra nearly vibrate out of his headpiece when you come near him every time you visit

Cyno weirdly gains like, 20x the luck when ur either playing against him, or sitting watching him play someone else, he’s struggling to find partners tbh bc “you’re my lucky charm? Of course I’m winning more.”

When you initially told him about him being one of ur fav cards, he literally looked like there was a loading sign over his head… Then proceeded to nearly break your ribs hugging you so hard, and nearly take ur eye out with the ears on his headpiece lol

☆

Sorry if all my writings shit for these past 2 posts! Idk im just thinking its not so good rn and idk how to fix it-

anyway I’ve started playing Breath of the Wild over the past like 2-3 months I think, and it’s amazingggg

I may or may not be both getting gender envy and also a huge crush on Link help-

Safe Travels Wandering Lantern,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

An iced coffee? For me??

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche

[writingoneout]

Untilted Katamari Reflections

Preamble:

Content considerations for the following include:

Parental abuse

Bigotry

Worldly anxiety

You're welcome back another day if that's too much right now.

I.

It’s fall of 2015.

You and your virgin college friends drink shitty cocktails called the “Slutty Will Rodgers.” They’re just Pepsi rawdogged with indeterminate amounts of grenadine and Captain Morgan. When you bought the mixers a Wal-Mart stocker yodeled “OOOOoOoooOH, maKIN sOMe DRINKS?!?!” and you knew it was time to leave.

We Love Katamari is on the Telly. It’s a sweet, trippy game you first bought to cope with high school. On Dark Fridays at 1am, when your inbox was barren and your balls were full, you’d drive to the empty gym downtown and sprint six miles. Then you’d come home and replay the firefly level until you fell asleep with your pug.

Your college friends are bad at the game, so they pass the controller. You’re playing the underwater stage. A spaceman falls in the pond of people gunk and stacked crabs. It’s going really well if you’re honest. You point to the screen and say “this’ll be Florida if Trump wins.” See Fig. 1.

Figure 1: Rick Desantis has big plans for Disney.

Your friends don’t reply because they soon won’t be virgins and their tongues battle each other’s. It’s a different game they play, one with fuzzier rules, but greater industry respect. You wish the campus gym was open 24/7.

. . .

Your skills as the prince are not inherent. You first meet him in 2005, when your dyspraxic hands can barely tie a shoe. Your parents catch you lose shit for the Toonami review of Me and My Katamari. They buy it for Christmas, hoping to steady your nerves while your father’s in therapy.

Dr. Flam is a Neo-Freudian hitched to your mom’s guy, Dr. Flim. She’s deep in your dad’s dream journal and makes him watch movies like Cool Hand Luke to really reign in his ego. He gets the DVDs from the Netflix site, then through the mail. As a family you watch your dad’s therapy films and reruns of Inyuasha.

In the waiting room you barely navigate the sticky ball through Namco Bandai’s Satoshi Kon parade. See Fig. 2. You’ve only seen adults express anger verbally, so when you mess up you grunt a lot and let out those Leopold Butters Stotch swears like “crap,” “shoot,” and “gosh darn.” You’re not particularly self-aware, so you probably just say “god fucking damn it” a few times and don’t remember. Years later you realize there was probably a secretary behind the glass watching you do all this.

Figure 2: Bwahbwahwabhbawahbwaaaaah.

Sometimes there’s a girl in the room with you, just around your age. She’s stuck while Dr. Flim teaches her mom about what dream snakes mean for her fear of male puberty. That's what he did for your mom, anyway.

You think the waiting-room stranger is cute, but you won’t admit you like girls yet, especially not to yourself. To cope with the cognitive dissonance, you do your weird shit louder while refusing to make eye contact with her. If you get real stressed you crank up the main menu track and yell “ahhhhh that’s so relaxing” while the “nah nah nah nahs” play through your headphones.

At one point the girl stands against a wall and stares at you with her arms crossed. You bet she thinks you’re cool, but she’s probably just annoyed and hopes you’ll notice, or maybe just ask if she’s OK. It’s probably good you don’t talk with her. You might ask something stupid, like if she's seen the roach corpse in the stairwell. It’s been there for a year straight, isn’t that crazy?

For better and worse, you power through your little game alone. Every time you lose the King of All Cosmos beats, shoots, and belittles you. See Fig. 3. It reminds you of when your own dad shattered your Harry Potter wand over the kitchen counter because you dropped a mini pizza.

Figure 3: The King of All Cosmos offers little constructive advice, all things considered.

You fail quite frequently. Eventually you drop the game because it’s getting stressful and you have the power to relieve yourself of the situation—not the Freudian lobby, just your fake dad.

II.

It’s 2012. PlayStation Network uploads The Prince’s primeval outing: Katamari Damacy. Within, Padre Cosmotic flaps his gums over too much hooch then slams his dump truck ass through the better part of our solar system. He dislodges every recognized constellation and even the moon itself.

Cosmos sends Prince to Earth—the last brick left in the shitstorm—to make slop of our planet and bodies. With the slop space itself will be made anew. The Good Son does as he's told, and every living entity experiences euphoric ego death within the bulbous heaven of the Katamari.

As a Real Gamer Teen you lose a lot less in this one. You really go in and fix Fake Dad’s mistakes, no problem at all. This is why a year ago you hailed “gaming journalism” as your calling. You write clean and play tight; should keep the lights on. It’s the most concrete idea you’ve had since 7th grade when you outlined a YA novel called Tooth Pocket. Even you didn’t think Scholastic would buy that one, though. It was just too hot for the book fair.

One day you’re cranking through FFVI and your real dad swings by, mad you're young. He grills your ass and says “I bet you can’t even tell me the biggest thing happening right now.” It’s some real “What’s a gallon of milk cost?” shit, he could mean anything.

 Surprisingly, you can’t think of a good answer. You and your friends are actually pretty informed because John Stewart is still at the desk and y’all chime in every day. See Fig. 4. You also spend hours each week tearing through MSN slideshows in your Graphic Design class because the Photoshop takes five minutes. You’ve seen a staggering amount of the Syrian civil war.

Figure 4: Sometimes in Snapchat you draw glasses on your cat to make him look like Mitch McConnel. You wouldn't do that without this guy.

Still, you’re a little stumped. It’s the middle of a phenomenon native to moralist presidencies known as "a slow news week.” You actually ran out of war shit the other day and clicked through some slides about Pakistani wrestlers. The seniors who offered you Jack Daniels in the Whataburger lot saw it and laughed. They thought you were peeping dong in class. You really weren’t, but they didn’t believe you. They graduate certain you were bricked up in the Dell Lab over big guys in spandex.

“I don’t know,” you tell your dad.

He throws his hands behind his head, hard, like an orangutan chucking logs at a poacher.

“It’s the fucking carbon tax,” he yells. This comes as a surprise, you think, because that shit is last month’s news. It really didn’t go anywhere.

“Do you not pay attention because you don’t give a shit, or are you just a nihilist and think you can’t do anything?” You can tell in his eyes he thinks there’s a real answer. “Seriously, which is it?

You don’t remember what you said. You probably just stammered until he walked off.

A month later he picks you up from marching band. Your phone is dead, so he had to wait twenty minutes longer than anticipated while you found his car. He punches the rearview mirror until the windshield cracks then screams of how your birth kept him from New England.

III.

It’s 2016. A rockin’ MILF in the Psych department gets you really into Hamilton. See Fig. 5. Every day you wake up on the grind and blast “You Aaron Burr, sir?” through your shitty 7-11 cans. While cramming foreign language Quizlets and McGraw Hill Online you do this thing called “Hafilton.” It’s where rock up to “Nonstop” and quit listening just before Hamilton decides what he will stop is being a good husband.

Figure 5: Like Kojima, you know "MILF" is a mindset, not a factual inquiry.

It’s 2018. Your grades are notably better and you’ve snuck into the honors program. Like Hamilton himself, you really flourished at 19 and thought about running for office. You immediately abandoned this idea after remembering your allergy to recordings of your image or voice.

You cohabit with the Psych MILF, and she offers some advice: she’s really had her boots on the ground with this whole “clinical psych thing” and honestly, respectfully, she loves you, but dear God it might not be your scene. It’s taken a real toll on her and the friends, and she can’t imagine you going through that shit.

At 1am in your living room you boot up DOOM (2016) and listen through some Hamilton. Angelica is thirsty on main when you remember that you, yourself, could be a lawyer. You don’t have to run for Congress to fight the establishment. There’s just the common law, and it’s right there. You can just get your grubby little hands in that shit and work your magic.

. . .

It’s the last semester of undergrad. Your Western Thought professor says Hamilton wasn’t really a huge deal and really James Madison shat out the big parts of our faction-proof empire. Yes, there was, in fact, a civil war, but the caplock rifle worked it out. After the Federalist papers he has you read the Bill of Rights but no Supreme Court cases. There’s a lot of talk on negative liberties.

Just before finals, the learned doctor says your generation only has two things to worry about: the climate and the poverty. Yeah they’re big, he says, but they’re just two things. You’re crafty kids, smart as the framers, even.

. . .

The state decides law school is your jam and lets you come inside.

There’s the negative liberties but you actually read Supreme Court opinions when the big boys aren’t shaking fists for Valley Forge. They have you listen to Hamilton for context. You feel dirty. An LRW professor puts on the “I’m Just a Bill” video and your sectionmate with Ivy degrees gets really, really mad.

. . .

The Federalist Society has a comfy presence at your law school. Along with Big Oil they sling out free pizza to every Little Scalia with a rumbly tum tum.

On your way to class you hear what the pizza boys feel. They hate Europeans, those social democrats with the rotten armories and clumpy cash. The Euros, they think, give too much wiggle room for the mentally ill, and by that they mean they mean gay people and probably just women overall.

There are more than two things to fix, you think.

. . .

The pandemic hits. You and some pals start a Google Doc to stay afloat. It barely works. In the Zoom review for the property final your professor catches multiple people crying. "You don't have to be here," he tells them, “there are other jobs.”

. . .

A year passes. You’re in a niche public interest class you do all right with. The professor looks you and thirty-five others dead in the eye and says how sorry he is that law school is traumatic. You shed a single tear in your little window. You're pretty in the shit and haven’t worn pants to class in months.

Then public interest prof takes a big, big drag from his long, fat spliff. He spins his desk chair and baseball cap at the same time, never letting go of the joint.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s not your fault, really, but the world is fucked. It’s time to fix what your parents did.”

The next week he gives a practice exam where the best solution is to sell an old lady’s house to Nestlé.

IV.

It’s 2022. After throwing your whole gooch at it, you fail the bar exam.

You fall back hard into exercise. When you’re not slamming Barbri you’re at the gym binging curls and cranking the Chainsaw Man soundtrack. One night on the way to squats you finally hear “Black Parade.” Just like you, Mr. Gerry Wayland is stuck between global disrepair and the desire to write Funny Little Books.

You just started an FLB yourself, actually. It’s spin on a Story Break episode you love. In your version there’s a fucked up civil war horse that moves like a spider and is covered in bugs. Rich people kill the planet then the horse gets lost in space. It’s compelling, you promise. There’s body horror and pirates dressed like Gorton’s Fisherman. See Fig. 6 It’s about the horrors of the contemporary world state. It’ll be fun.

Figure 6: An untapped horror icon. Imagine blood contrasting that yellow.

Big problem, though: you remember rich people love hiking. There’s no grass on Mars, not that good shit anyway. Would they really fuck all of it?

You edit. In the last few years, the real breathless ones, the oligarchs cash their tab. A cartel, they think, could really muscle those stragglers, the tragically common. There’s one city left with both breathable air and refugees. They level it. The few survivors are spread amongst the stars, so their loves and languages may die.

. . .

It’s the middle of Bar Prep Round 2. You and the patient MILF see Hadestown in the Big City.

There’s a juke joint on stage flanked by devil trombones. A sad little guy slinks in from the janitor’s closet. His name is Orpheus and, just like you, he’s a sad, short writer who likes a lady so much it comes out weird. He has a vision, he says, for a little ditty. It’s compelling, he promises, and shit’s gonna change. His love is functional and realized, worth the investment of a hardened woman displaced by capital’s torture. She believes him.

You cry because you know where this goes.

It’s just a single tear.

Don’t worry.

Nobody sees.

. . .

There’s this game you like, by some corporate anarchists who hate themselves. They’re Scandinavian, from the spot in Tallin where you stopped for a cruise. Every gift shop there had swastikas and gas masks leftover from the bloody years.

In the game is a liberal yacht MILF. She thinks you’re stupid but someone’s helping with your gun, so you’ve got that on her. And yet, she pins you, re your whole writing thing. See Fig. 7.

Figure 7: She sucked, but it still hurt when she left.

Your favorite Supreme Court podcast says the ocean’s last hope is other countries. But those countries’ people cry to the Disco game, and their ministers also bought The End of History. You meet them on the subreddit. You're all geeked out, waiting for the tide.

. . .

It’s the era of desert cradles. God thinks you’re disgusting, so he sends his better kids with a memo: the flood was too much work on his end, it’s time for something different.

“Just keep walking,” he says.

Your skin bares his figure. So do the corpses. You little birds among billions, gassed out and screaming, move to clean.

V.

It’s 2023.

We Love Katamari is up on the PlayStation store. You sit with the cats and mow down some crabs. You don’t need it so much these days, but it’s nice.

There’s a Bar card in your wallet, just below your gym tag. There are two interviews in your Google Calendar. Good stuff might happen, hopefully soon. You crawl into bed and wrap an arm around your wife’s rib cage.

Everything matters and nothing is safe.

You are loved enough to sleep.

[garoujo]

HELP ME OUT — SANO SHINICHIRO

you’d grown used to your boyfriend getting himself caught up in stuff, good thing you’re there to help.

♱ warnings — f!reader, stuckage, exhibitionism, shinichiro gets himself stuck while he’s working at the shop, creampies. ꒰ word count : 3k ! ꒱

♱ note — hewo ! welcome 2 my first post of kinktober yay . i hope you guys enjoy this & the rest of the stuff i have planned <3

RETURN TO KINKTOBER MLIST ♱ REGULAR MLIST

shin : you comin’ down to the shop t’day, baby? need y’re help <3

you always were, you don’t know if it was how hot you thought your boyfriend shinichiro looked working on bikes that had you accepting his invitation everytime, or if it was just your desire to see your boyfriend at any opportunity you could.

but you could never say no.

you’d told him about how sexy you thought he was as he worked, his hair mused and hands slick with oil, gaze heavy and drowsy despite the way it softened when it met yours.

you can still remember the way the confession had made shinichiro swell with pride at the time, grinning all bright and proud and the sight of him like that made your own heart warm because he was really was cute, and all yours.

the bike shop is quiet when you arrive, wearing one of the pretty little skirts that always make your boyfriend’s cheeks dust a little pink — the kind that distracted him from his work and turned his attention to you instead, but maybe that’s what you wanted today.

you let your gaze drift from the parts that lay across the walls, tv in the corner playing some bike commercial that garners your attention for a few moments as you let yourself sway on your heels. there was a certain comfort that came with the store itself, it was clean but rugged and had a certain air to it that was very much like shinichiro that made you feel at home.

you’re only snapped from your daydream by a clash of something metal through the back followed by a spit curse, one that you’ve heard too many times from your boyfriends lips and the sound makes a giggle sound from your own before you follow the source.

but he’s not in his usual spot beside the bike he’s been tinkering with for the last few days, and you frown with a huff before you call for him. “shin? where are you?” you call, pausing at the silence that seems to linger before his voice sounds from deeper into the garage and you turn on your heel.

“shit. ‘m in here, baby.”

you want to laugh when you finally find shinichiro, his body is shuffled under the tiny entryway underneath a suspended truck — his overalls tied around his waist as he lays on his back, oversized shirt pooling on the ground beneath him before you’re leaning down to peek underneath.

“shin?” you grin as you let yourself drop to your knees, and you watch the way your boyfriend features seem to soften at the sight of you when he turns. “hey.. y’look real pretty, angel.” he drawls, his compliment drawn out and slow, sounding unbothered despite the way he’s sweating and covered in oil.

ofcourse he still looks absolutely perfect and attractive.

you watch his eyes flick down to the way you’re bent over to look at him, tiny little skirt bunching around your waist before he quickly turns his head away, clearing his throat with a lazy grin and trying not to think about the view he could have from behind you.

“what’re you doing? you work on trucks now?” you trail off as you watch shinichiro’s gloved fingers work with his tools, propping your chin up against your palm and the bewildered look in your eyes makes him laugh when he glances back at you again.

“nah, he’s a friend of gramps so said i’d take a look. dunno, figured it can’t be too different from a bike.” you pout at him, and it only makes his grin grow. “it’s a real pain t’ crawl outta here when i need my stuff though, baby. can y’hand me my tools when i need ‘em?”

once again, shinichiro does a bad job of glancing over the swell of your thighs in your skirt and you try hard to ignore the simmer of something warm you feel twist in your stomach — knowing you always have his undivided attention everytime you walk into a room.

“is that what you needed help with? you’re so lazy, unless.. sano shinichiro are you stuck right now?” you tease, eyes narrowing at the way your boyfriend suddenly seems to avoid your gaze. “pfff, nah.” he is, you can tell by the way he’s not looking you in the eye but you decide to save him the embarrassment. “just needed an excuse t’ see my baby, ‘s all.”

you did always like when he let you help out, and he knows that. rolling your eyes, you make your body move to stand up straight before you’re skipping over to sit on the floor where his legs rest. “well, what do you need shin?” you sigh with a hum as you watch his pretty abdomen twitch and twist with every movement he makes underneath the truck.

“gimme a sec, baby. jus’ gotta—fuck, don’t think that’s meant’a look like that.” his words are followed by a very alarming grinding sound and a long, drawn out sigh from your boyfriend that makes you giggle. “quit laughin’ at me, can still hear from under here y’know.” the way his words are spoken through a pout only making you laugh even louder.

but by the time shinichiro eventually calls for you to hand him a tool you’re already bored and needy, it feels weird to spend this much time with your boyfriend without his hands on you — or atleast being able to feel his touch given how touchy he was.

“shin~ im bored, when will you be done?” you groan— you hate how childish you sound but you’re still tossing and turning as you try to get comfortable — fiddling around with the metal tools that you’ve organised neatly infront of you too many times to count.

“nearly there, baby. can y’hand me my wrench.” shinichiro asks with good nature, but he’s been telling you he’s nearly there for almost an hour and you’re feeling too touchstarved to hide your frustration now. his voice is rougher with drowsiness, he’s probably tired too but you can’t deny the way it makes your thighs rub together with need.

you feel his hand smooth along your skin when you let the silence linger with a pout on your lips, but then you get an idea when you take another slow glance over the lower half of his figure that’s not concealed under the truck.

this is a desperate situation, you’re absolutely bored and you don’t think you can stand another second of it.

“can feel y’ poutin’ at me, come on don’t be like that — promise, ‘m almost done.” he hums with another affectionate squeeze to your thighs, and your eyes almost roll back in delight at the smooth touch before you decide to put your new plan into action.

with a deep breath, you let the pinpricks of arousal burst along your thighs when you pick up his tool — deliberately leaning onto shinichiro when you reach underneath the truck to hand it to him despite his outstretched hand that’s waiting.

you let your palm rest and curl along his thigh, a little too high up for it to be just coincidence and you feel his muscles twitch under your touch when you press harder, grazing it higher when you hear him exhale shakily from his place underneath the truck.

you know you’ve already gotten to him when you still feel the weight of the tool in your other hand, the image of shinichiro’s eyes fluttering closed as he bites back a moan making you squeeze your fingertips into his skin before you watch the first throb of his cock bounce behind his sweats.

“shit, watch y’re hands, baby. y’re gonna make me fuckin’ hard.” he sighs, taking the wrench from your fingertips a little too quickly as he lets the touch linger a little longer when you exhale.

“sorry shin..” you feign innocence, releasing your grip on his thigh to let your hand trace featherlight touches higher along his bulge, making his abdomen tense when it jolts. “just thought you must be sore under there.”

“fuck—what’s gotten’ i-into ya.” shinichiro grits, you can hear that he’s biting hard on his lower lip to stifle a groan when you let your fingertips dance just short of his cock, he’s half hard and basically begging for you to help him out. “what do you mean, shin? i’m helping.”

your fingers graze teasingly along the base of his bulge and you hear him groan softly at the soft pressure of the touch, hips jolting to chase more of the intoxicating friction before he’s hissing behind clenched teeth.

“this ain’t fair, baby. fuck, can’t fuckin’ feel ya from here.” shinichiro’s muffled whimper makes you feel too warm under your clothes suddenly, and the next sinful, lingering squeeze of your fingers around him makes desire twist thick in your stomach when you feel him thicken and throb against your palm.

you can basically already imagine the look on his face, the flush on his cheeks and the pinch of his brows, the way his forearm is probably resting over his blown, heavy eyes. you can tell that he’s panting softly with the rise and fall of his abdomen, lower lip most likely sucked between his teeth.

you’ve barely touched him, but you know shinichiro’s already a mess.

“y’re a real tease. y’know that, angel?” his words catch at the end when you deliberately tighten your fingers around his bulge, giving it a rough stroke against your palm before you pull your hand away entirely, earning a long whine from your boyfriend who’s still stuck underneath the truck.

“h-hey.. what’re ya—“ he grunts when he feels your fingertips graze against his abdomen, tucking under where he’s tied his overalls around his waist before you’re pulling the knot undone and pulling down his sweats after, just enough to have his cock springing out to slap against his stomach.

finally seeing shinichiro’s cock makes your mouth water before you’re hooking your thigh over both of his — letting yourself straddle his lap while you let the fabric of your skirt bunch around your waist.

“i want you, shin.” you gasp, and you watch his abdomen twist with a shock of pleasure when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, giving it a few languid pumps before he’s groaning and meeting every twist of your wrist with an eager hump.

“yeah? shit—you know i can never say no t’ my baby.” his words are low, wound so tight with anticipation despite the way he still wishes he could see you right now.

shinichiro can imagine how pretty you’d look lifting your hips to pull your panties to the side, his lips parting to grind out a groan when he feels your thighs shuffle up to straddle his waist followed by the first swipe of his cock through your folds.

he really should be embarrassed, he’s stuck underneath a truck in the back of his bike shop, while his pretty little girlfriend humps and rubs her slick cunt all over his cock. if waka or benkei were to see him like this they’d bully him about it for the rest of his life.

but then you’re catching your clit against the head of shinichiro’s cock and the pretty little whisper that drips from your lips makes his mind blank, and suddenly he couldn’t care less if the fucking world were to walk in right now because all he can think about is the way your cunt feels when you finally sink yourself down on his cock.

“holy shit, bet y’look r-real fuckin’ pretty right now.” god—he knows you are.

he can hear the way you moan and twitch at the thick spread of him, his body twisting to look between your bodies — the peek of your cunt just visible above his cock, and shinichiro swears he’s in heaven.

he can see just above his own hips, but that’s enough for him to see the peek of your puffy folds spread for him, that’s all he needs to be hypnotised by you. he lets his head fall back against the concrete just as he watches your hips finally press flush against his, taking your time to adjust to the stretch as his cock throbs inside of you.

“you’d be able to see if you didn’t get yourself stuck, dummy.” you tease followed by the first real bounce of your body against his, raising your hips until only the top of shinichiro’s cock is resting inside of your cunt before you’re sinking back down onto him.

“y-yeah, yeah.. lecture me later, baby. mmmm, fuck—y’re pussy f-feels too good right now.” your mind feels cloudy with the low rumble of his voice, and shinichiro’s feels hazy with how good you’re fucking him. your boredom completely melting out of your body now that you’ve gotten what you wanted most, your boyfriends body rocking seamlessly along your own.

the muscles in shinichiro’s toned body shake beneath you when he grinds his hips up to meet yours, deliberately rolling his pelvis upwards to graze along your puffy clit. the head of his cock slides along every one of the swollen spots inside of you, and he’s really wishing he could swallow those pretty sounds you’re making for him right now.

but his cock feels like it sparks something along the nerves in your body, letting your fingers graze between your thighs to roll your clit in sticky circles as the other takes a slow, handful of your breast through your shirt. you try to imagine your fingers as his, letting yourself indulge in the warmth that he always seemed to make burst along your thighs.

“can feel y’ squeezin’ around me, princess. hnnn, y’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” shinichiro grunts, and you’re surprised at the way he still seems to keep a pace given his current position. everytime he grinds his cock into your slick cunt it feels like it reaches even deeper.

your pace stutters as he pushes against something sensitive inside of you, your body grinding closer—needier into his and he feels like he can barely breathe with how consumed by you he feels.

“well you were taking too long, shin.” another languid roll of your hips and another needy squeeze of your cunt across his cock makes him moan loudly, choking on your name as his own fingertips twist in his hair and fuck—he wishes it were your hands instead.

but shinichiro only fucks into you more even more eagerly, one of his palms reaching to squeeze around the flesh of your thigh as he listens to the way you cry for him. another sweet groan kicks it’s way from his chest followed by another needy coax of your walls and he swears you must be trying to milk him.

his body almost curls in on itself in bliss with the way you’re bouncing on his lap, every push of your cunt feels like it makes his vision white and he wishes he could pull you closer to bury his sounds in the crook of your neck instead of the back of his forearm.

“aint complainin’ bout it now, baby. got what y’ wanted di’nt ya?” you hear him grumble, words buried into the back of his elbow as he almost bites down on the skin. he can feel tears prick at his lashes, can imagine the way you’re rubbing so desperately at your puffy clit — probably in time with the way you’re squeezing around him and it’s driving him insane.

maybe it’s the lack of some of his senses that only makes his pleasure burn more intense along his nerves, his carnal need to look at you—touch you as you fuck yourself dumb on his cock.. but knowing he can’t makes his cock throb with another silky squeeze of your cunt around him.

“fuck, angel. ‘m gonna cum.. mmmm, feels too fuckin’ good—shiiit.” shinichiro’s breathing hitches as he curses, eyes screwed shut as his hips twitch and stutter beneath you before he’s cumming thick and warm inside of you.

every bounce of your hips makes his lungs quake and it only takes a few more flicks of your clit underneath your fingers before you’re following him off the edge, the warmth he fills you with helping dig your orgasm out of you.

the back shop is filled with both of your mixed moans, small whimpers of eachothers names that break off into something weaker as your pleasure rocks through you, every connection of your hips growing wetter, louder than the last.

your movements finally come to a halt when your thighs burn and a mixture of both your orgasms is smeared along your thighs and shinichiro’s pelvis, watching your boyfriend twitch when you finally release him from the milking compressions of your cunt with a long sigh.

“holy shit.” he huffs, breathing heavy as he tries to catch his breath and hisses when he reaches down to try and tuck his cock back into his sweats. you let yourself roll off of his lap to relax, hearing a few spat curses to your side as your boyfriend struggles to duck out from underneath the truck, but you still find it in yourself to laugh when you finally see the first peek of his face a few minutes later.

he’s flushed to his chest, dark mop of messy hair stuck around the sweat that gathers across his hairline and his eyes are a little wet, probably from desire as his hooded, drowsy gaze sends you a fond look and he’s finally pulling you against him.

“the hell was that all about, baby? would’ve finished sooner if y’just told me you were horny.” shinichiro hums, pressing wet kisses along your cheeks and lips that makes you grin when they tickle your skin. but when his arms hook around your waist, it’s almost too easy to melt against his chest despite the mess he’s covered in.

“you were taking too long.. but you fixed it, right?” you hum, turning to blink up at him from where he’s got you pressed against his chest.

“nah, might’a made it worse.. i dunno. ain’t my fault i got a bit distracted.” shinichiro laughs before he’s leaning down to press his lips against yours with a fond hum.

“not that i’m complainin’ bout it, angel.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[phoenixkaptain]

I love Tim’s first appearance in comics. I love it. I adore it. God it’s so perfect in every single way.

First of all: stalking. He’s stalking Bruce, he’s taking incriminating pictures (this is where the photographer Tim thing comes from), he’s stalking the Teen Titans, he knows where Starfire lives. Good golly he’s stalking everyone. Like a little mini Bruce, stalking away. Kori: “How did you know where I live?” Tim: “No time for questions, I’ve got to find Nightwing.” Kori: “???”

I love that Kori’s kind of creeped out. I would be too! A kid just knocked on my door and basically said “Yo, Starfire, do you know where Dick Grayson, known to some as Nightwing, is? No? See ya.” Kori’s right to be creeped out.

(God god god I want I need I yearn please tell me the first time Starfire sees Robin III she says something like “I feel like I’ve met you before…” I need Starfire to realize that Tim is the creepy stalker kid. I need Starfire to be like “Dick, not to judge you or your family, but what?” I neeeed iiiiittttt)

Tim 1.) knows about Dick living with Kori, 2.) knows that Dick kept another apartment, 3.) broke into the safe in Dick’s apartment then replaced the wall that was in front of it, and 4.) it’s heavily implied that he has been doing all of this on his bike with a backpack. Tim has been biking across the country with his dumb little coat and his not very big backpack or, at the very least, he biked all the way to where Haly’s Circus was set up. Maybe he did both! This kid is an absolute maniac and I adore him.

I love that Tim makes every single thing he says as ominous as possible! He’s just: “Dick. You need to return to Batman. He needs your help.” No wonder Dick is confused and a bit concerned and kind of creeped out!

Also, I really like the Haly Circus bit, if only because Tim spends most of his parts of the comic internally fanboying over how cool Dick is, and it’s super cute. Tim at one point is just like “Wow, Dick Grayson really is the very best!” and he’s so happy to spend time with Dick, why is he so cute???

Tim saving Batman and Nightwing from the rubble of a building is a very good visual representation of Tim’s ongoing thematic struggle to keep Bruce and Dick from collapsing under the weight of Jason’s death. It’s hanging over both of them, everything is different, Bruce keeps trying to lock Dick out and pretend everything is find and Dick is trying to help him but can’t do anything because Bruce never gives him the opportunity to. Bruce is on the second floor and Dick is in the basement and Two-Face blows up the building and they’re nearly crushed under the rubble.

Tim coming in at this point is great, because he uses a mixture of what Bruce and Dick both did to enter the house. Dick comments, in the comic directly before this one, that he’s too big to fit in the coal shaft, a narrative mirroring of Dick being too old to be Robin anymore. He doesn’t fit in the costume, but more than that, he doesn’t fit in the role anymore, and nothing can force him to fit. He goes in through a window instead.

Bruce breaks through the front, through a window, as subtly as a bull in a china shop (thank you, Dick Grayson, for your incredibly on the nose comments in times of great crisis). Bruce is trying to hurt himself, he’s been trying to hurt himself for the past issues since Jason’s death, and this is just compounded by the way he’s chasing the feeling of being happy again, the feeling he gets when he swings through the air, the feeling that isn’t the same without Jason by him. This is furthered by him mistakenly calling a young boy “Jason,” and him almost calling Nightwing “Robin” multiple times. He’s stuck in the present while the past haunts him and the future looms in front of him, and he wants to be happy again but can only see making himself happy as hurting himself.

Tim doesn’t take out Two-Face, but Tim does sneak into the rubbled building through the coal shoot that Dick couldn’t fit in (and he’s in the Robin costume! He’s so cute!!). Then, when he finds Batman and Nightwing stuck under the rubble, he’s forced to brute force his way out and move the rubble off of them. It’s a mixture of how Bruce and Dick handled things, but more than that. Bruce went in through the window, a distraction, in a Robin-like move. Dick snuck in through the window, in the shadows, in a Batman-like move. Tim manages to take both roles and mix them together, coming in sneakily but brute-forcing when there’s no other option. Tim has always been the Robin the most similar to Batman, but it all begins here, with Tim being the most prepared character in the comic. More than just the most prepared character, he’s doing the opposite of what Bruce and Dick are doing. While Bruce and Dick keep disappearing without another word, Tim keeps appearing right when the narrative has forgotten him. Instead of being an outright distraction like Dick and Jason were in the past, Tim plays a diversion.

Tim’s whole character in this storyline is someone desperate for things to be balanced again. He’s scared for Bruce because Batman is his hero. He’s scared for Dick because he doesn’t want Dick to hate him. Tim doesn’t want anyone to hate him, which is why, earlier, he’s very polite even as Dick is like “Alfred, this is Tim, he showed up after stalking me for a while and he knows our secret identities.” Tim wants Bruce to keep living. Tim is the one who says the hard truth to Bruce, that he isn’t acting normal and that everyone’s noticed. Tim says it because Alfred and Dick both tried and failed.

And the panel of Tim, in the Robin outfit, standing shadowed by Bruce as Batman is just a brilliant piece of visual storytelling. Even without the captions, you can see that Tim is standing up to Bruce, is out-stubborning Bruce by being simultaneously brutally honest and clever. Tim is supposed to be the ray of light at the end of the tunnel, the light in the darkness, the Robin to Batman, and it’s so good.

Anyway, I really liked this storyline and I really liked Raven appearing to just be like “btw Nightwing, we all love and support you, but we’ll back off if that’s what you really want.” Also the throw-away line in front of Commissioner Gordon: “he found it out while he was inside of your body.” What was Gordon thinking right then? I love it.

I also love Tim, but that much is obvious, let me explain. He took a bunch of pictures of Batman being beat up by Ravager just to show them to Dick to get Dick to realize there’s a problem. Tim does not actually interact with Batman or Bruce Wayne in any way until he rescues Batman and Nightwing. Tim doesn’t set out with the intention of becoming Robin, he sets out with the intention of making Dick Robin again because he believes that Robin is what Batman needs. Batman needs something that makes him stop and hesitate. Something that reminds him that he’s more than just Bruce Wayne.

It also has the unintended side effect of Tim saying the funniest fucking line in the whole storyline: “This was the best day of my life.” Like, excuse me??? You almost died! Multiple times! You drove from Haly’s Circus to Bruce Wayne’s house in the morning, presumably in awkward silence because you told Dick you’d tell him everything on the way to Gotham, but only actually tell him anything when he’s with Alfred. When Dick shows up with Tim, Dick tells Alfred that he barely knows any more than Alfred does! Alfred just met the kid, he only knows his first name! Tim did not tell Dick one single thing on the entire ride to Wayne Manor, he didn’t even tell them his name was Tim Drake! Every single bit of information they get out of Tim is pushed and prodded and pulled out, Tim is the least forthcoming character of all fucking time.

Dick shows Tim the Batcave. For what purpose did he do this? Just to storm out dramatically? I have no idea, why did Dick show the child this, I’m lost. Tim has been sitting with Alfred for hours by the time he finally convinces Alfred to drive him out! Alfred gets a single phone call from the Teen Titans and Tim is still there, so we know he didn’t leave or anything. What were they doing? Did they talk at all? Or was it another Nightwing situation where Tim just sat there in awkward silence?

Not the point, Tim almost gets beaten up by Two-Face, gets yelled at by his hero, has to berate his hero, and he’s still like “What a chamring time this has all been, thank you for the experience, hope Dick has fun being Robin again.” Tim is a maniac, he’s nuts, he’s absolutely buckwild, I love him more than oxygen.

Side note: I love when Alfred (while Tim is berating Batman, like you do) says “The kid would make a good politician.” And Dick says “He’d do more good by Batman’s side.” It made me laugh. I also love Dick: “I couldn’t let a twelve-year-old wander around a circus all by himself!” Tim: “I am NOT twelve! I am thirteen.” Tim also introduces himself to Alfred like “Hello, Mr. Pennyworth, what an honour to meet the man who Batman confides with, the stories you could tell!” and then walks in like that won’t raise any questions. Alfred is confused, Dick is confused, Bruce is confused, Kori is confused, the circus people are confused, the only one not confused is Tim himself because he’s a wild child and he probably had ten contingency plans up his sleeve, just in case.

10/10, pretty good storyline. Batman #440-442 and the New Teen Titans #60-61. It goes like: 440, 60, 441, 61, 442, making it a five parter. It came out in the nineties, I believe, and yes, Dick is wearing his silly little flared collar

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt. 4

[on ao3] [pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3]

content warnings: discussions of death, kidnapping, drug use, and cannibalism, internalized homophobia, character considers self-harm

Colors looked different inside the Munson trailer. Steve didn't know if it was the lightbulbs, flickering in the ceiling, or how cramped the living room was, but everything was so warm that it made the world seem yellow. And it was cramped, the furniture pushed out into the middle of the floor to make room for the shelves and shelves of mugs and hats on the walls. It was more cluttered than Steve cared for, haphazard in a way that made his fingers itch-- He kept his room bare of his own volition, needing as much space as possible so he didn't wake up thinking the walls were closing in on him. It would make him claustrophobic to stay here for too long, Steve thought, but it was cozy enough to spend time in. It seemed kinder than his house, for sure. 

And for all its mess, it was obvious that someone worked very hard to keep it clean. Under all the clutter there was no dust or debris. He could see where stains had been before and then scrubbed until they had come clean, the spots dots of lightness amongst the dinge of age. Some parts of the couch and the old, big recliner had been patched up, fresh blocks of fabric and clean, white stitches. 

Steve hesitated in the doorway, taking it all in. It was hard to imagine that they were standing in the lair of two werewolves. He knew they weren't real werewolves, at least not the kind he'd seen in horror movies, with the moons and silver and freaking out once a month. It still seemed weird to imagine one cradling porcelain in his big paws, or curling up on a neat, mended couch. 

Eddie came up behind Steve, shoulder-bumping him out of the way to get into the trailer. Steve moved for him, wordless, but Eddie turned before he had even really cleared the door. 

"Probably not what King Steve is used to, huh?" Eddie said, the kind of nonchalant that echoed so often in highschool hallways, the kind that meant they were itching for a fight. "Sorry about that."

Steve's first impulse was to ask Eddie not to call him that. He'd always hated it, thought it was a pretty stupid nickname for a guy whose life was spiralling out of control, but Billy had made it into something toxic. Billy had wanted it so badly that it warped itself to meet that want. Not a stupid nickname his friends had given him, but a title that meant something-- Something that Steve had never wanted to be. Thankfully, after graduation the name had fallen out of use. Largely, Steve assumed, because outside of school it became extremely apparent that he wasn't the King of much of anything. But here Eddie was, still stuck within those walls, and calling Steve that name that made his skin crawl. 

He couldn't make himself put a stop to it, though-- Mostly because he wasn't sure if Eddie would listen. Eddie had never been a bully, to Steve's knowledge, but he was obviously looking for a fight. Steve hadn't learned much in school, but one of the lessons that had stuck was that an angry man will use any weakness to his advantage; If Eddie knew the name bothered him, it might be his name until the end of time. 

And, if Steve were being honest, Eddie made him a little nervous. Always had. It was something about the eyes, Steve thought, because they were so big and honest and... Well, Steve had always been a little afraid of Eddie seeing too much when he looked at him. Or feeling too much from what he saw there. Maybe both. Maybe Steve couldn't stand the thought of either. It had been enough to make Steve avoid Eddie in high school, and now it left him frozen under Eddie's challenging stare.

"It's, uh-- It's really warm in here," Steve said, wincing at his own words. He honestly had no idea what to say; He'd barely learned to talk to Robin like a normal person, and Eddie seemed like a much harder sell. Just to smooth things over, Steve muttered, "I like it." 

Eddie just looked at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, and when the silence grew too long, Steve looked away and shuffled over to the couch, dropping into the seat between Robin and Dustin. Wayne had taken the over-stuffed recliner across from them, and after a moment, Eddie followed him, propping himself against the large back and staring down at the odd group on his couch. It might have been menacing, if Eddie hadn't look so confused. 

"So, Harrington," Wayne said, so abruptly that Steve sat up straighter on reflex. Wayne Munson wasn't anything like his high school coaches, but he commanded the same level of respect. An air of minor authority surrounded him, his jurisdiction small but his control total. " You gonna tell me what the hell you were thinking, coming to a Blutbad's lair in the middle of the night, poking around? With two kids with you, no less." 

As Steve flushed at the gentle reprimand, Robin protested."I'm only, like, a year younger than Steve, you know." 

Wayne didn't seem too swayed by that knowledge, and Steve knew he was content to simply wait for an answer. He didn't look pissed, just concerned, which made Steve squirm under his gaze. There was nothing worse than someone who was just genuinely worried you might be a complete idiot. It would be so easy to tell him all the truth and blame it all on Dustin, but that wouldn't fix the problem. Steve was trying to present himself as an adult, someone who was grown up and put together enough to be out hunting down a kidnapper. Being bullied into stupid shit by a literal child wasn't exactly the best proof of that. 

Steve had never been a great liar, though. His parents had all but demanded it of him, when they still cared enough to be around. Nothing huge, of course, nothing that could be traced back to them, but enough to present their son as a better version of himself. He'd struggled with it for awhile, and then figured out that while he would never be a good liar, he was pretty good at pretending. 

It was startingly easy to pretend to be his father, for instance. That had been an easy one, to start with-- He'd been cataloguing his father's every gesture for years, after all. Watching the movements of his hands and the way he held his head was the only way Steve had ever been able to predict his father's moods. So when it came time to lie, Steve just did what his father obviously wanted him to, and... became him. The way he put his hands in his pockets when he didn't want to say hello to someone beneath him, the way he pouted, gently disapproving, whenever anyone else spoke. His parents adored it; Thought it was a sign of him growing up. Their friends ate it up. 

That little trick of his had gotten him far in school, too. The boys that terrified him were always nicer when he mirrored their own bodies back at them, and whenever that failed, Steve just copied Tommy. It had kept him alive in middle school, and when his growth spurt hit in the summer before high school, it was enough to catapult him into popularity. 

It worked like a charm until everyone realised he was stupid. Then, at least, they called him well-behaved, teachers and his father's coworkers alike, but there was always a trace of pity to it. Like they were looking at an animal, kicked often but too dumb and well-trained to run. Of course, that offered its own benefits, especially with girls. They liked someone they didn't have to worry about hitting on their friends, and their mothers liked that their daughters might marry someone who wouldn't put their own ambitions above their families. 

Steve had never liked it, not his own behavior or the way people responded to it, but it was necessary. 

He doubted Wayne would appreciate it, though. He didn't seem the type to be impressed by Bradley Harrington, much less a cheap imitation of him. Mirroring Wayne was too much of a risk, of course; The man was miles smarter than the dumbass teens of Steve's youth, and if he fucked it up it would come off mocking. Steve could mirror Eddie, easy, because he knew Eddie's mannerisms and they were large and loud and beautiful, but Eddie didn't exactly strike Steve as an effective negotiator. If he was, Steve doubted he would have signed up for a third senior year. 

Who did that leave? Steve considered Hop, but too much of the man's personality was tied up in being a cop. The last thing Steve needed was to be accusatory after getting caught in the man's yard in the middle of the night. It needed to be an adult, though, Steve knew. He needed to be an adult. 

The only other adult Steve knew was Joyce Byers. 

That... could work, Steve thought to himself, watching Wayne's face shift into annoyance. Joyce was motherly and kind, when she wasn't ripping apart the universe to get to her son. People liked her. People liked her a whole lot more than they liked Steve, that was for sure. Plus, she was the kind of person Wayne would like-- Stubborn and passionate, but down to earth. Relatable. And, the best part was, she almost always got her way, no matter how hard to please she was.

So Steve kept his face open and honest, blinked slower. He relaxed his shoulders but kept his body tight, crossing his legs at the ankles. He settled further into the couch, keeping his elbows by his side and his hands in his lap. Steve felt Robin shift nervously next to him, probably wondering what the hell Steve was doing, and without thought Steve reached out to pat her on the leg. Not the possessive, stroking way a boyfriend would, but... chaste and gentle. Maternal. 

Robin made a small noise of surprise as Steve returned his hand to his own lap, but Steve was focused more on the look of disgust that flashed across Eddie's face. 

"I'm sorry for the trouble," Steve said, polite but not overly refined. Plain. Upfront. That was him, now. "We didn't mean anything by it, I promise. We're just in a tough spot, and we were hoping you knew somebody that could help us." 

Wayne shifted in his chair, looking faintly amused. "I'm listening." 

Steve sighed, reaching for the deeper emotions he'd seen written all over Joyce's face. Frazzled and determined. Tired. Make eye contact, widen the eyes. Lean forward and drop the volume. "Something bad is happening to the kids in Indiana right now, Wayne," Steve said. His hands clenched in his lap. "I don't know if you've heard anything, but Robin and Dustin both came to me with stories of kids who have just gone missing. No sign of them. And I know there's always a runaway or two, but this is a lot of kids. Most of them Wesen. And I've been looking into it, and there's... There's evidence that it might be a Blutbad who's doing it. And I--" 

As he spoke, Wayne's face hadn't changed, but Eddie's had. His expression got darker and stormier with every word, and when Steve brought up Blutbader, he nearly exploded. "If you think you can come in here and accuse us of--" 

"No, Eddie," Steve said, soothing. Thinning his voice out a little, to sound a little more worn. Exhausted. "Of course not. You wouldn't-- You've more than proven you wouldn't do that, okay? We may not have ever been friends, but I was paying attention for the past four years, you know. Besides, Robin wouldn't have let me get this far if I hadn't been." 

"The kid was less convinced," Robin said, and Steve could practically feel her pointed smirk.  

"How was I supposed to know!" Dustin protested from the other end of the couch. Steve looped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing squeezing him just a little. He needed the kid to chill out. "I'm not allowed in the high school yet! I've tried!" 

"And what's the reason you think this is a Blutbad?" Wayne asked, with the air of a man who was very used to speaking over a loud child. 

"The lack of a pattern. I know it's not much to go on, but-- Most of these kids have nothing in common," Steve said, laying the case out as best he could. "There's no school that crops up more than the others. They're all different ages. Even the gender is split right down the middle. Whoever-- or whatever -- is doing this doesn't have a type, and from what I understand that would strange with a human culprit." 

"Most other Wesens have strict seasons and grounds for hunting," Robin added. "Some of them even have preferred species. There's none of that, here. It's all just random, like it's going for whatever Wesen kid crosses it's path." 

"With a few human kids in the mix for good measure," Dustin said, and Steve nodded. 

"Unless someone has lost it so hard they've warped their own prey drive, it's hard to imagine that this could be anything other than a Blutbad whose chosen prey is... well." Steve hesitated, not sure how else to put it. "Kids. Does that sound like anything you've heard of before?" 

Wayne shifted in his chair. To someone else, it might have seemed like an old man settling further into his favorite chair, but Steve clocked the stiffness in Wayne's shoulders and the nervous twitch of his fingers. Something had unsettled him. That either meant he hadn't considered it before, or that he hadn't expected anyone to figure it out-- And either was a pretty good result for Steve. 

"Can't say I've heard of that specific type, no," Wayne eventually said, his drawl elongating further with thought. "But... can't rule it out, either. Lots of Blutbads I knew had weird types. No one really talks about them, of course. Isn't polite. But you know how it is." 

Steve didn't really want to think about the intricacies of Blutbader culture right now. "... Right," he said, shaking his head. "So, you can see why we thought it might have been--" 

"So why come here, then?" Wayne said, interrupting Steve's effort at pushing the conversation along. "If you didn't think it was me or Eddie, why come here at all?"

Joyce's shrug was deeper than Steve was used to, almost an anxious twitch, with both shoulders high around his ears. "To be honest with you, sir," Steve said, "I don't know very much about Blutbader. We were hoping you could fill us in on anything that might help. If there's anything you know about any other Blutbader in Indiana, especially." 

"Uh-huh." Wayne's eyebrow stayed high, and it didn't look like it was going to budge anytime soon. "And what's that got to do with you snooping around in my backyard?" 

Oh, fuck it, Steve thought. He was going to have to throw Dustin under the bus, anyway. 

"... Well, Dustin insisted on coming along," Steve said, with a mother's rueful smile. "I didn't expect him to rush back there, either, but, well... Kids, you know?" 

Before Steve could finish the sentence, Dustin had dug his heel full-force into Steve's shin, and he aimed to hurt. Usually, Steve would have just grabbed the little shit in a loose chokehold and shook him around until he begged for mercy (or, more likely, until Steve got bored) but that wouldn't be very Joyce of him. Instead, Steve smacked Dustin's arm with the back of his hand, lightly, like he had seen Joyce do to Hopper when he made jokes she didn't think was funny. 

Before Dustin could escalate things further (and Steve just knew he was raring up for it, too, the bitchy little gleam in Dustin's eyes brighter than ever), Wayne's laughter broke through their quiet squabble. Steve looked up at the Blutbad, a little shocked, and felt that shock grow when he saw the fond, wistful smile on Wayne's face.

"Y'all remind me too much of my little brother. He never knew how to keep out of trouble, either," Wayne said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. It was a memory, a compliment, and a warning all at once, Steve realized, though it was one he really didn't have context for. He glanced up at Eddie for a clue and all he found was pain, Eddie's face creased with a grimace. 

Steve wanted to help, to smooth out the lines of Eddie's face, but that was a little hard when he knew he was the one causing Eddie to make it in the first place. Looking back at Wayne, Steve forced himself to concentrate, so he could stop ruining the Munson's night and let them live their lives in whatever peace Hawkins could grant them. It was the least he could do. 

Wayne also seemed to sober, though his eyes were still faraway and hazy. He said, "I won't lie to you, son. I heard about the kids. There's been people whispering about it for years now, way back to when that Byers  boy came back. Didn't know it had gotten so bad currently, though. Only thing I've heard recent was... God, must have been gone six months or so, now. There's a man who used'ta work the line with me, most nights. One night he doesn't come in, and everyone's worried because, well, Rick ain't the kind to forget to call in. But then the office girl comes out, near tears, talkin'bout how the cops can't find him, neither. Turns out he'd gone to the store before work to pick up some things for dinner, and when he'd come home she was gone. She was just a little thing, six or seven, I think. Not old enough to run away. Craziest thing was, the doors were still locked. Everything was exactly the way he had left it. The cops couldn't find no trace of anybody in that house but Rick and his wife. The man didn't take it well, apparently. When the cops called us, we knew he didn't do nothing wrong, but... Well, they found him a couple days later, in the woods, still looking for her. Can't say I blame him."

Steve struggled to unstick his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth long enough to ask, "They never found her?" 

"Nah," Wayne said, shaking his head. "I wasn't following the case real close, of course. Felt too weird, knowin' Rick and all. Last I heard, they didn't have much to go on." 

Horror filled Steve's lungs with every heartbeat. Steve was no stranger to his own reaction to the stories of the missing kids, but he had at least hoped that with all he'd read over the past week, he might have built up a tolerance. Apparently, he'd had no such luck. If anything, it was worse now. It wasn't fictional, and it wasn't in the impersonal voice of the crime reporter. It was just a man who'd seen his friend lose the one person he loved most in the world, and Steve's chest ached with it. 

He thought, as always, of Will. And Barb, if he was being honest. Because while he knew what happened to Barb, it never got any easier to imagine what her parents must have felt, not knowing. No matter what Nancy thought, he had never forgotten. He tried, all the time. When the guilt got too big to hold on his own, he tried to limit it to Will, tried to force things back into the size a teenage boy was supposed to handle. But then it only grew, as Steve had to acknowledge he was only abandoning Barb again. 

He tried to reach for Joyce's character, but there's no help there. She would be perfect-- Incredibly compassionate and understanding. She would take Wayne's hand, even, and ask if there was anything she could do. Steve can't do that. Not because he doesn't want to; Wayne looks haunted by something he never even saw, and Steve wishes he could fix that, but he also knows he's not allowed. 

Fixing things was never Steve's role in the story. He never got to be the one who loved or the one who heals for very long. When he was very lucky, he got to be the hero, but most of the time he felt like some impersonal, distant villain. At the very least, some rich asshole who stood at the edge of a grieving community and watched, never really understanding. 

So, instead, Steve froze.

"I... I'm so sorry, Mr. Munson," Robin said, her voice genuine but unsure. "That must have been terrible to go through." 

"You don't gotta apologize to me, girl," Wayne said, gruff. "Wasn't my burden. I'm lucky enough to say that my kid is right here at home, safe as anything." Despite his words, Wayne looked disturbed by his own story, as if he was imagining a world where Robin's apology was a little more apt, and there was no nephew to stand guard behind his chair.

Anticipating his uncle's mood, Eddie said, "I can take care of myself, Wayne." 

Sheer contrariness pulled Wayne out of his melancholy. He shifted back in his chair to stare up at his nephew with a stern frown. "Did I say you couldn't?" 

Steve still wasn't sure what to say, his brain instead latching on to the ease of the dynamic between Eddie and Wayne. Eddie definitely wasn't a kid, but it seemed... sweet, that Wayne still thought of him as one. As his kid. Steve wasn't sure his own parents had thought of him that way in years. Before he could descend too far into self-pity, he felt Dustin tuck himself further in Steve's side. 

Immediately, his attention was on the kid. Although Dustin wouldn't look at him, staring angrily at a burn mark in the carpet, Steve had to assume that it was fear that pushed him into Steve's arms. Fear or grief, one. If it reminded Steve of Barb, then it had to remind Dustin of Will. And Dustin was a child. Just a kid, and none of this was his fault, and if Steve couldn't shake off his own grief and do something about Dustin's, then could he even call himself an adult?

He ran his hand up and down Dustin's back, the way his favorite nanny used to do for him when he got upset, and hoped it helped. There was nothing else he could do right now, besides finding more information about whatever did this. 

"That's exactly why we're here, Mr. Munson. I... I know it's probably a long shot," he confessed, "but I'd like to bring that little girl home, if I can. And if I can't, then... Then I at least want to make sure that no more kids go missing. More than that, we need people to know that their kids are safe again. When parents start to connect the dots, it's going to get bad out there." 

"It's bad enough after what happened to Will and Barb," Dustin said, sullenly, and Steve fought not to flinch at her name said out loud. 

"No more dangerous animal than a scared animal," Wayne said, softly, and Steve couldn't help but tilt his head at the familiarity of the phrase. 

"...My dad says that all the time," Steve said, wondering if it was some Wesen parable that he'd missed. 

Wayne didn't confirm or deny Steve's implication, just smiled wryly and said, "Well, I reckon he would know." 

And then, after a moment where Steve searched for the right words to say, Wayne continued, "You know, you keep poking into this, you're gonna end up facing something a lot more dangerous than some scared parents. Blutbader have been hunting for longer than Grimms have even existed. That's old power, especially for a youngin' like you. You sure you're willing to risk your life for some monsters just because they look like kids?" 

Steve knew he didn't really believe that. Wayne didn't seem the kind to hate himself, no matter what he had done in the past. He seemed level-headed, realistic, in a way that just didn't line up with calling kids monsters. But that didn't mean it didn't piss Steve off. It was Wayne's tone of voice that got Steve more than anything, really. 

There was a voice that adults only used when they were testing you, when they knew the answer and they probably knew what you were going to say, but they wanted you to say it out loud. Steve hated that voice. He hated that every adult in the world thinks he needs to be tested. He hates that they're all so sure that they deserve to test him. He hates that they just can't seem to ask what they're really asking. He hates that they can't believe him when he speaks. 

He hates that everyone on earth seems to think he's either evil or incompetent. 

Steve can feel the woge settle across his face, jerking like a twitching muscle, but he doesn't try to stop it. Adrenaline surges in his blood, but he doesn't feel the usual compulsion to fight and tear and rend. It's easy to keep himself in the chair, and for once Steve doesn't feel out of control. He feels powerful. 

When he speaks, his voice is clear. 

"I know you don't really believe that," Steve said, because it's less confrontational than telling Wayne that he's the reason Steve hates people older than 18, as a general rule. "They're children, not monsters. And even if they were, that doesn't mean they deserve to be hurt." 

Steve's woge forces Wayne's, the same instinctual shift that Steve seems to inspire in Wesen, but unlike with El or Robin, Wayne's Blutbader face was gone just as quickly as it came. And that was... interesting. Steve's eyes narrowed as he took in Wayne's unbothered appearance. It was all odd, wasn't it? They had been looking into each other's eyes the entire time, and Wayne had never so much as flinched away until Steve woged in his face. There was no shock or horror in whatever he found in the shadowy depths of Steve's eyes, and Steve very much doubted that Wayne had less to be guilty about than Robin Buckley. 

Was it all Blutbader who could fight their own instincts so well, or was Wayne Munson special? 

Unable to stop his own curiosity, Steve looked up and deliberately met Eddie's eyes. Eddie didn't woge again, but he met Steve's gaze only for a moment before awkwardly shifting his weight and looking away. Steve supposed that answered his question. It was less of an inherited skill and more of a learned one, though it was obvious that Wayne had taught Eddie a little of it. That was the only reason that Steve could think that the likes of Tommy Hagan and his merry bands of meatheads were still alive after tormenting Eddie and his friends for five years. 

It was impressive, to be sure, but also a little bit worrying, if Steve was honest with himself. The eyes, as far as he understood, were supposed to be a Grimm's last fail-safe. Something to protect himself with, give a raging Wesen pause, when traditional means failed. The fact that some Wesen could just ignore that last line of defense wasn't a great sign for Steve's future odds of survival. 

More than that, if the eyes were supposed to inspire guilt and self-loathing, why were the Munsons so immune to it? The only options Steve could figure were that they were really good at controlling their own feelings, or they just weren't capable of feeling guilt. And Steve would love for the first to be reality, he really would, but the idea of a Wesen in Hawkins with no genuine conscience unsettled him. 

Even as Steve promised himself to keep an eye on these two, he wished he didn't have to. He wished he was allowed to believe the best in people, wished he didn't have to make lists in his head of people most likely to hurt children. Because, when it came down to it, he liked Wayne. A lot. He thought that Wayne would get along with Hopper, probably, if Hopper could accept the way Wayne didn't seem to be moved by much. A dad like him would have been amazing. Steve couldn't imagine Wayne freaking out because of the color of shirt Eddie wanted to wear, or if he wanted to try out for the school play. 

Steve wanted Wayne to be a good person. He really, really did. He just didn't know if he could believe it, yet.

"I have to admit, Mr. Munson," Steve said, settling back into the couch and forcing his muscles to unclench. "You're not what I thought you'd be."

Wayne laughed, though there wasn't much humor to it. "I could say the same thing about you, Harrington. Eddie always told me you were at least gracious enough to keep your teammates from publically humiliating him and his friends, but I figured that would change once you were... aware," he said, and Steve flushed at the idea of Eddie bringing home stories about him. God knew the kind of things Wayne must have heard. "It's a nice surprise to see it hasn't. Guess I should have figured, since you didn't cause problems for Eddie last year." 

"Last year?" Steve asked. Did he even talk to Eddie last year? He didn't think so, but so much of last fall was a blur. He looked up at Eddie, askance. 

"Last autumn, when you-- After you quit basketball, I noticed something was off," Eddie said. He still wouldn't make eye contact, and a light blush was beginning to creep across his face. Steve got it; It was never fun being caught caring more than you should. "Figured it was probably you coming into your Grimm... ness. Sorry if you didn't want anyone to know about it, but I was freaked out and needed to tell Wayne. You never did anything, though. Not even when Billy--" 

"Billy isn't worth it," Steve said, quickly. That was the reason he had given himself, anyway. He meant it, too. Billy was an asshole, and Steve would do anything to keep him away from Lucas, but it wasn't worth living with the guilt of ruining a huma like Steve knew a Grimm could. At least, that was the only explanation he had now for why he couldn't beat one teen boy after taking down several demonic dogs in a junkyard. He hadn't used his bat on Billy, after all, and some part of him hadn't wanted to fight back. 

So maybe Eddie was right. Maybe Steve's powers had started coming in after one too many fights against the demodicks. It certainly made more sense then them coming upon him randomly one spring day. Then again, Eddie didn't know about demogorgons or El or any of it, so to Eddie it must have seemed pretty random, anyway.  

Steve was pretty curious about the logic there. "Wait, why did you think it had to do with my powers?" 

Eddie shrugged, gaze darting all over the room. "You didn't... care about anything. Not, like, in a 'cool' way. You didn't talk to anyone, not even when they were yelling in your face. You quit the basketball team, you were sitting right next to me everytime the principal lectured us about our grades... I mean, fuck, man, I'm pretty sure you didn't even flinch the first time Wheeler and Byers walked into the cafeteria holding hands," Eddie said, and Steve couldn't even remember the day he was talking about. "Whatever happened, it had to be huge, and I figured discovering monsters were real was about as big as it could get. I skipped as much school as possible trying to dodge the oncoming woge." 

It was a surprise to know that Eddie had noticed. Sure, the malaise his life had been consumed by that semester didn't actually have anything to do with being a Grimm-- If he had to guess, Steve would say it was probably the lingering concussion. But Eddie had been looking enough to notice. And that was... That was a lot to think about. Steve was a little dismayed to learn that he'd had Eddie's attention on him all this time and he hadn't had the opportunity to do anything about it. He would have to chalk it up to another thing the Upside Down had taken from him, he supposed.

"So you can see why we were a little suspicious when you showed up tonight," Wayne said. And, yeah, that made sense. They thought he was a full-fledged Grimm, completely in his power for going on a year. That would be enough to scare anyone. 

Clearing things up would make working together in the future, Steve realised, but keeping his own past in mystery would offer him more control. It turned out that adults weren't that different then high schools; They all feared what they didn't know. They worshipped the mysterious, mocked the sincere, and gossiped incessantly. Still, Steve was tired of ruling with fear-- Tired of ruling anything at all. 

"I'll be honest, the whole 'Grimm' thing has been slow going. I only started to woge after graduation," Steve confessed. "I've been getting stronger-- I think you were right, it started last year, but it comes and goes. Everything else is... sporadic, at best." 

"Kinda young for a Grimm," Wayne remarked, which was news to Steve. Not much in the books had been mentioned about other Grimms' awakenings. "Your parents must have been surprised." 

"Yeah, they definitely... Definitely were not expecting it," Steve said, stuttering around the fact that he had no plans to let them know. He can't have them asking too many questions, can't just show the big, blinding weakness in his own chest. "I don't think they planned to tell me until later, I-- I still don't feel very... Grimm. It hasn't really settled in yet, I don't think. My abilities still feel like me, not some magic thing, and I... Sorry, I guess what I'm trying to say is, you have nothing to worry about. I'm barely a Grimm. I've spent the last six months just trying to keep the people I care about safe." 

He doesn't elaborate, hoping they will simply assume he's talking about his parents, or Dustin and Robin beside him. There's not enough time to go into all the details of the things he's had to do in the past two years, and he doesn't trust them enough to mention El, yet. 

It was just a throwaway half-lie, a small justification as to why Steve wasn't trained as a Grimm that didn't go into all the stupid drama his family brought with them, so Steve was surprised to see a frown on Eddie's face. He still wasn't looking at Steve, but to the right of him, his eyes all but boring into Robin's forehead. Steve's mind caught on that, long enough to be embarassing, until he realised what it meant-- What it would always mean, for boys like Steve. 

Because it made sense now, why Eddie had looked so upset when Robin was the one by Steve's side. Why he had immediately tried to start a fight. It was so blindingly obvious, the only kind of signs that Steve had ever been good at reading: Eddie had a crush on Robin. 

The jealousy was swift and unpleasant. Before Steve could even really process the emotion, he could hear himself bemoan how unfair it was, how Steve hadn't even gotten to look at Eddie properly, and how he was already untouchable. And, really, the pettiest part of him complained, what did Robin have that Steve didn't? 

They were ridiculous, unfair thoughts. Steve felt his stomach churn, and he made himself look away from Eddie, his eyes unfocusing in the swirl of colored mugs. It was a bad habit, these little obsessions of his, one that apparently he hadn't kicked as well as he thought. And Steve had thought he'd beaten it. It had been months since he sat up at night, thinking about another man's hands. He'd really thought it was over. 

Part of him wanted to blame Eddie for it, even though his rationality knew it was no one's fault but Steve. There was always a part of Steve that had known Eddie was pretty, always paid a little more attention to him than others, but at the time Steve had been mostly tied up in Tommy. Tommy's hair, Tommy's smile, Tommy's freckles. Whatever Eddie Munson was faded into background noise. Being with Nancy had let him pour all his compuslion into something good, something wholesome, but now he was alone and Eddie was here. Steve couldn't stop the tug in his stomach when he thought about Eddie's eyes. 

The worst part was how selfish it was. People were hurt. Steve had a job to do. It was the worst possible time to be thinking about the plushness of Eddie's mouth, or the way his curls would get frizzy at the temples after gym. The worst possible time to linger over the strength of his hands, or the way his nose wrinkled when he smiled. The worst possible time to focus on trying to see the flash of his tongue when he spoke or-- 

Steve was the most selfish person in the world. It was the only explanation for why he was doing this now, when so much was at stake and he knew Eddie wanted someone else, anyway. It didn't even make sense, really, why he felt so suddenly betrayed. He had been able to put his own emotions to the side when Nancy showed up with Jonathan last fall, because the kids needed all of them focused and ready. So why couldn't he stop thinking of ways to make Eddie look at him when he barely knew the guy?

"So why aren't your parents the ones trying to find these kids, then?" Wayne said, breaking through Steve's panicked thoughts. The pool of guilt in Steve's stomach grew as he flushed, embarassed to have been caught daydreaming about Wayne's nephew in their own living room. 

"Wh-- Like I said, they're out of town," Steve replied, trying to gather the scattered thread of his own lies. "Business trip." 

"Uh-huh. And is that Grimm business?" Wayne asked. A little too curiously, for Steve's taste. Though he supposed he did owe the man whatever information he wanted, at this point. 

"Honestly, sir, my parents aren't really the kind of people who let me in on that sort of thing. They come and they go and business is business," Steve said, trying to sound confident that this was all completely normal and absolutely did not bother him at all. Which, it probably wouldn't if monsters hadn't gotten involved. He was sure there were tons of people who practically raised themselves after age 12. 

"Fair enough," Wayne said, and to his credit he didn't even look disappointed. "If I had to do what your parents do,  I can't say that I'd be letting Eddie get involved." 

It was a sweet sentiment, but Steve doubted that was why his parents kept him in the dark about so much of their lives. He didn't tell Wayne that much, though. It was difficult, though, because Steve was almost sure that Wayne knew more about Steve's parents than Steve himself. It was his best bet towards getting any kind of information, but to get it he'd have to admit that he was going into all this blind. That wasn't exactly a smart play, even if Wayne was completely on the up-and-up. The last thing Steve needed was for people to start talking about how the only Grimm in Hawkins didn't know what the fuck he was doing. 

"Since my parents won't be coming to fix this anytime soon, what can you tell me about Blutbader packs in the area?" Steve asked, trying to steer this mess of an evening back on course. 

"I hate to break it to you, son, but officially there are no Blutbader packs in Indiana," Wayne said with a sigh.  

"I told you!" Robin hissed in Steve's ear. He shoved her away, gently, watching Eddie's face crease with pain. 

Fuck.

"When Eddie and I moved here, I chose Hawkins for a reason," Wayne continued. "Your parents offered me a deal that was hard to refuse, of course, but ultimately it was the lack of a proper pack that made it a good place to raise a wieder cub. Of course, that's probably their doing, too. Most packs don't move through a Grimm's territory without a good reason. Living this close to the city means Eddie can go off with his friends on the weekends without running into something he shouldn't."

"Sorry, I--" Steve paused, unsure where to start in the dozens of questions he suddenly had. "What does wierder mean? And why does it have to be away from packs? Am I allowed to ask that?" 

"Well, let's start simple," Wayne said, and his eyes drifted towards Dustin. "Would you want your little one around a strange Blutbad alone?"  

Steve hesitated, unsure if this was a trick or not. "I... You and Eddie are the only Blutbader I've ever met," he said, every word carefully measured,"so I'm not... I don't want to say for sure, but from what I've read? Not... exactly." 

"And it's the same with me." Wayne shrugged, as if it was a simple fact of life there he was nothing he could do about. "Murderers aren't great with children, even if they are their own." 

"So you left the pack?" Steve confirmed.

"We more than left. We went wieder," Wayne said. Steve frowned when he heard the unfamiliar German.  

When he turned to Robin, she was looking at Wayne as if he had just started babbling like an infant. "I'm guessing that doesn't mean what I think it means," Robin said, as if she was as afraid of upsetting Wayne as Steve was. 

"Nah, wieder is older than that," Wayne said. 

"Older than German?" Robin asked, her voice rising into 'I'm about to freak out' levels of pitch. Her eyes flew to Steve, widening. He shrugged; He didn't know why she thought that he, of all people, would have answers, but he didn't even have context for what they were talking about. God, he really needed to learn German, but the idea of learning a second language when the kids already confused him in English was exhausting.

"Since the creation of monsters, there's been those of us who didn't want to be monsters," Wayne said, as if that explained anything at all. Maybe for Robin, it did, because she began to nod thoughtfully. "For Blutbader, though, leaving is... hard. We're real big on the pack, and stepping away from that goes against everything we are. Can't stay, though, without getting pulled back into the hunt. And even now, every second I'm alive, I can feel myself trying to go back to them." 

"How do you do it?" Dustin asked, voice quiet.

"Don't listen," Wayne said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Steve had to assume that it was a very practiced nonchalance, because he couldn't imagine talking about his own compulsions this way. "There's a lot of things I don't do anymore, because it makes the wolf louder than the man. I don't eat meat, I don't wear red, I don't suffer assholes and, most importantly, I don't keep company with other Blutbader anymore."

And that almost made sense, except that Steve was certain he would have noticed Eddie doing literally any of that. One incident especially came to mind, and Steve was quick to say, "I... have definitely seen Eddie eat meat before. In fact, I'm almost positive I once saw him eat an entire chicken in one sitting." 

"I've never hunted before!" Eddie protested, as if he and Wayne had this argument every day. "Eating a chicken isn't going to make me start craving human."

"It's like an alcoholic having a drink versus someone who's never had a drop a day in their life," Wayne explained, and Steve was grateful for an explanation he had literally any chance of understanding. "Sure, the second guy could become an alcholic, but he can also just have a beer on a Friday night. First guy can't go back." 

"So Eddie could--" Steve didn't want to think about it, about Eddie acting like the Blutbad in Otis' journal. 

"He could," Wayne confirmed gravely. 

"I won't!" Eddie said, with the air of a kid who had been promising his father the same thing for his entire life. 

"You won't, but you could," Wayne said, reasonable in a way that came with practice. 

"Oh, my God, Wayne," Eddie hissed, starting to look strained around the eyes. "For the last time, I am not going into a killing frenzy in the mosh pit." 

"Let's hope not," Wayne said, as if that was an actual possibility, and oh my god, Steve didn't need to think about that. Didn't need to think of Eddie in a club at all, especially not in a pit. He'd never seen one, but he'd read about them, violence in a sea of anonymous bodies, an orgy for those who liked to let loose by collecting bruises-- The kind of fun that made Steve's stomach twist in ways he didn't want to examine too closely. The kind of thing he'd never let himself do. 

He just really should not think about it. 

"So why'd you do it?" Dustin asked. His voice was a welcome and necessary distraction to the spiral of Steve's thoughts; Wherever that path led, he'd never let himself go down it sitting next to the kid. 

"What?" Wayne asked, looking a little surprised. 

"If it's so hard," Dustin clarified. "If you have to live the rest of your life struggling, when why leave?" 

Wayne paused, as if he wasn't sure how to explain it. And while Steve was sure the man had thought the same question to himself, maybe the answers he came up with weren't ones he wanted to tell a 13 year old in his living room. Or maybe, he just wasn't sure that Dustin would understand them. (Steve was sure Dustin would, though. Dustin had seen more than he should. Steve wished Dustin understood less.)

Eventually, Wayne said,"When Eddie was born, my brother Al changed. For the better, I mean. He'd always been an asshole, and I don't think having a kid was ever going to change that, but it was like he had woken up one day and his perspective had changed. Suddenly the only thing my brother wanted was to keep his baby safe, even if it meant giving up everything he had ever known. And I... I had never been good at telling Al no." 

All embarassment was gone from Eddie's face, leaving behind instead an uncomfortable sadness. Steve was all too familiar with that pinched frown. To him, it was always from a grief that he didn't know how to hold, a sorrow that fit just a little too big within the spaces of his chest to have a proper place in his life. It required more than his two hands to hold it, and Steve wished he could be that second pair of hands for Eddie. He wished he knew how to hold someone else's pain like that; He wished he'd ever had someone to teach him. 

"We stayed on the move for a few years," Wayne continued. "Came up the East Coast and then headed West when--  Well, stumbling onto Hawkins was almost an accident. I didn't think we'd get to stay until your parents found me and offered the deal." 

It was easy to imagine what the deal might be. Steve knew his parents, knew the kind of deals they liked to make in a board room, and he didn't imagine they saw their town as any different. Still, he wanted to know the details, the particulars. He needed to know exactly how big the knife his parents were holding over Hawkins was.

"Wait a minute," Dustin said, before Steve could ask further. "If Eddie is wieder and he's never hunted before, then my mom has to let me join Hellfire this year! This is perfect!" 

Steve blinked, stunned by the sudden change in subject, then said, "Dustin, there is absolutely no way you can tell your mom about any of this. She would kill me, and probably Wayne, too." 

"Come on, Steve, if the other all join--" 

"There are others?" Eddie said. He actually sounded excited by the idea of the Party joining his silly little club, damn him. Steve hated that it was almost adorable. 

"Yeah! My friends Mike, Lucas, and Will all play together," Dustin said, babbling with excitement and innocence like Steve hadn't seen him in God knew how long. "And maybe Max and El, if her dad lets her come to school this year--" 

"Dustin!" Steve snapped. The Munsons had pretty much been cleared of any and all suspicion at this point, but that didn't mean he trusted them with El. Even good people talked to the wrong suits, sometimes. 

"I mean, we already have some prey species guys in the club," Eddie said, eager enough to ignore Steve's outburst.  "Maybe I can have their moms talk to your mom, let her know what the vibe is like. We haven't had any problems before. Are your friends--" 

"They're human. Well, except for El, she's--" 

"Henderson, if you say one more fucking word," Steve swore. 

"She's basically Steve's little sister," Dustin continued, as if Steve hadn't said a single word. 

"Jesus fucking Christ." 

They both continued around him, as if Steve wasn't having a very public breakdown at Eddie Munson knowing about El's existence. Neither of them even looked his way as he buried his head in his hands and surpressed the urge to scream. Dustin beamed up at Eddie, asking, "So what campaigns did you guys play last year?" 

"Well, we just finished the latest Dragonlance campaign, and let me tell you, those aerial battles--" 

"These children are ridiculous," Robin said, close enough that it broke over the excited racket of Dustin and Eddie's nerdery.  She wasn't wrong; Steve had long since accepted that the kids would always bring their board game up in the face of extreme danger, but he hadn't expected that Eddie would indulge that particular absurdity. Steve was beginning to think that maybe he just had bad taste.

Steve raised his head to look at Wayne apologetically, but he found the man was instead making the same expression back at him. "He'll talk about this for hours, if we let him." 

"Dustin, too," Steve said with a tired nod, and it was in that moment of kinship that Steve had to acknowledge this entire thing was a waste. Eddie and Wayne obviously hadn't done this, they had already known that before Dustin let his emotions get the best of him, but more and more it was becoming obvious that they didn't know anything. They were just normal people who had to work a little harder to get to 'normal', just like Steve and El and Dustin and every other Wesen living on the fringe of what it meant to be human. Whatever clues existed in greater Wesen society were once again entirely out of Steve's reach, and they were no closer than they had been this afternoon. 

Steve let his shoulders slump in resignation. "Maybe we should just let them talk," Steve said. "I don't know what to do now, honestly." 

"It's a damn shame your parents aren't here for all this, kid," Wayne said, eyes sad. Steve hated being pitied, usually, but just for once he let himself revel in it. This was much bigger than he could handle, and it felt a little soothing to have it acknowledged for once.  "They'll get to the bottom of it,eventually. You just gotta wait it out." 

"You have a lot of faith in them," Steve said, curious. He couldn't imagine what they had done to earn it, when he had so little faith in them himself. 

"I mean, not everyone is under their protection, but whatever's out there would have to be awfully stupid to keep messing around where a Grimm can see it," Wayne said, and that, at least, made sense. "Look, son, I know you're under a lot of pressure right now, but this'll all be over once your parents are home." 

It was a sentiment that Steve had heard many times, over the course of his childhood. When he was younger, it felt like he wasn't even allowed to ask questions without someone telling him to just wait for his parents to come home. He tried to tell them that he was sick of waiting, that he was never sure when they were coming back, but that only made everyone upset. So he would call, and someone's secretary would write a note, and Steve would wait. As he got older, Steve stopped calling. Eventually, people let him ask questions-- It was okay when a sixteen year old asked how to pay a power bill, in a way it hadn't been when he was eleven. 

It helped that Steve was good at pretending. He learned to shave in Tommy's bathroom, pretending he'd been doing it for years. He copied signatures and permission slips. No one ever doubted when Steve said he'd called them, because who else spoke like Bradley Harrington? Who else but the son who survived mimicking his tone of voice? Steve pretended he was still waiting, and he didn't feel bad about moving on. 

Wayne made him wish he was still waiting. Not because he actually wanted them to come home-- In fact, the idea of it made him feel the same way he had felt when Nancy had wanted to go to the cops. His stomach squirmed with unease, palms sweating, because his parents were the only people he had never been able to pretend in front of. And if they knew too much about Barb-- if they knew too much about Dustin and El and Robin --then they would know exactly who Steve was. 

But Wayne made Steve want to be the kind of person who didn't feel like that. Or, at least, the kind of person who could ignore it long enough to call. He already knew he should, already knew all the lives he was putting at risk because he was too afraid to pick up a phone, but until that night Steve was okay with his own cowardice. Wayne made him feel guilt for pretending, for the first time in his life. 

Steve wasn't sure if he liked that. 

"Of course," Steve said, still pretending, with a pit in his stomach. "Of course you're right. I'm sure they'll be home as soon as they're able. But is there, uh, anything else you can think of? Just to keep the fort held down until my parents come home." 

"Nothin' off the top of my head, son," Wayne said. "But I'll tell you what: I'll keep my eyes open and my ears peeled, and I'll let you know if anything comes up." 

"Thank you, sir." Steve stood, yanking Dustin out of his conversation. The kid scrambled to follow his lead, still Steve's shadow when he had found a cooler friend, and he felt Robin match his every movement just a moment behind. Steve hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was necessary to leave his number or address with a man who so obviously knew his father. Or even if he would be home when Wayne needed him. He was shit at this leadership stuff. "If-- if there's an emergency, and you can't get in touch with me, you can always call Chief Hopper down at the police station. He knows where to find me in a pinch." 

"Wait wait wait." Eddie sounded harried, and he looked at Steve with wide eyes. "Does Chief Hopper know about this shit?"

"I mean... he knows kids are missing," Steve said, because... well, he had to assume that someone had told the Chief of Police that kids were going missing more often than quarters, "but I haven't told him about the Wesen connection, no."

"But he knows about Wesen?" Eddie asked, and Steve noted that he certainly wasn't afraid to make eye contact now. His eyes all but bored into Steve, big and scared and wholly prey. If he hadn't known better, there was no way Steve would have pegged this man for any kind of predator. Even human seemed a designation too cruel for those eyes.  "He knows there are people in this town who aren't human? Does he-- does he know about me?" 

"No, no, it's not like that," Steve said, because he remembered how scared he was to tell Hopper about being a Grimm, before he even had words for it. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Eddie, with all this... expectation at his back. "Hopper knows that Wesen exist, but that's... recent. And I doubt he knows anything about either of you; I don't think he's even heard of a Blutbad before. Hop knows the basics, and I don't think he plans on learning much more than that." 

Wayne hummed, considering. He seemed much calmer about the idea of a cop in Wesen business. Although, considering all the weed Steve and his friends had bought from Eddie in school, Wayne probably spent less time in general thinking about cops. "Seems like he'd be a good ally, Chief of Police. You don't want to bring him in on the missing kids?" 

Oh, and wasn't that a doozy? Because Wayne was right, from a certain point of view. It would be so much easier to let Hopper take over. But there were so many reasons he couldn't, and so many of them he couldn't tell Wayne. There was just... too much. Too much about Hopper, too much about Steve, and while he fully believed Wayne was a good person... Well, there were a lot of good people Steve didn't trust. 

"Look, Hop is a good man," Steve said, slowly. "But he's a cop first, and that comes with rules and laws and a bunch of other stuff that I don't really understand. Now, Hop isn't always... the best at following those rules, but that's not a position I want to put him in. If there's every anything in this that we can prove to a court of law, then I would love to call the police and step out of the way. But that's just... not the life we're living." 

Besides, pulling Hop in on any Wesen business would be a terrible idea. Once he had one foot in, he was bound to take a mile, and the more he got involved, the bigger chance he had getting tied up in something that Steve's parents would notice. And them noticing Hopper was just a step away from them noticing El, and that was... Steve couldn't have that. 

Wayne was right, though. Steve needed someone to work the human side of things if he wanted any chance of finding this guy. Hopper couldn't get involved, and Steve didn't trust Dr. Owens or the numbers he'd left behind last fall, but... Well, Steve knew a guy. The local paper might not have as many resources as the police department, but people also didn't close the doors on a pretty smile like they did a badge. 

Luckily, Wayne didn't ask him to elaborate. He just sat for a moment, as if he was really considering what Steve had said-- And wasn't that a trip? --and eventually, he nodded and sighed. "... Jim Hopper is a good man," Wayne said, in the voice of a man who was making a choice he hoped he wouldn't regret. "I don't mind calling him first if there's anything I don't think I can handle without someone getting hurt." 

That was certainly a choice of words. 

"I- I'll be right behind him, if you need me," Steve said, trying not to let his voice shake under the sudden image of mild-mannered Wayne Munson wrecking someone's shit. 

"I don't doubt that, son," Wayne said with a smile. 

Steve, unaccustomed to approval this easily, fidgeted under the light of Wayne's grin. "... Right. Right, well, I-- I guess we better get out of your way. It's past Robin's curfew." 

"Oh." Robin practically inflated with shock like a cartoon character, rising up on her tiptoes as she looked at her watch. "Oh, shit. Yeah. Thanks for all the help, Mr. Munson. Bye Eddie!" 

"Yeah, bye Eddie!" Dustin chimed in. "Make sure you talk to your friends about my mom! Her name is Claudia Henderson, we live on--" 

Steve cut him off with a gentle shove towards the door. They didn't have time. Eddie would figure it out, or he wouldn't. Steve needed to get out of here before a Munson decided to make him rethink another aspect of his life. "Dustin, get in the car. Thank you for everything, Mr. Munson." He at least tried to make that sound genuine. 

"No problem, kid," was Wayne's gentle response. "Good luck." 

They left the trailer in a flurry of noise, Dustin and Robin both bursting into their frenzied monologues as soon as the door closed behind them. Stumbling down the steps, Steve almost tripped over both of them as they stuck close to his sides, and he rolled his eyes when Robin came tripping over his heels. 

She grabbed his sweater to steady herself, still complaing over Dustin's excited ramblings. "I can't believe we stayed out this late, Steve. Do you remember how early we have to get up to open, now? In the summer! This is ridiculous, I'm too young for this kind of--" 

Their voices made such a confusing cacophany that Steve almost didn't hear the creak of a screen door behind them, so by the time he turned to check, Eddie was already halfway down the steps. 

"Harrington! Hey, Harrington, wait up!" Eddie called, as if Steve hadn't already stopped in his tracks at the sight of him. Backlit by the faded porch light, Eddie looked otherworldly, a kind of magic that Steve hadn't believed in since his parents decided he was old enough to stop believing in God. Steve felt his mouth going dry already, just looking at golden swirls of errant curls around his head. 

"Oh, uh... Can you guys wait for me in the car? It'll just be a few minutes." 

Dustin would have argued if it weren't so late-- The kid liked to pretend that he was just as ready to pull an all-nighter hunting monsters as he had been two years ago, but Steve recognized the deep-seated teenage urge to sleep for twelve hours a day, and it was hitting Dustin hard. He only looked upset for two seconds before turning away, a yawn already curling his mouth. He didn't even bother to speak, waving at Eddie over his shoulder as he continued trudging to the car. 

Robin shrugged and followed. "Don't make me late for curfew, Harrington, or I'll make you meet my dad." 

Steve shuddered. He hated meeting dads, especially ones whose daughter he wasn't dating-- Mostly because they were always so sure he was. "No chance of that, Buckley." 

He heard Eddie mumble under his breath, a little, "gross," that had Steve frowning off into the swiftly darkening weeds. 

It was such a bad idea for him to talk to Eddie alone; Steve was more than aware that his obsessions got worse the more time he dwelt on them. He knew he would be replaying whatever Eddie said to him over and over again as he tried to sleep, reading into every word deeply enough to give a little rationale to the delusion. It wasn't something Steve could afford to do, especially not when he also had to deal with Eddie's obvious distaste for him, but the alternative seemed even worse.

 Whatever Eddie wanted to talk about, it was obviously i mportant-- And private enough that he hadn't wanted to talk about it in front of Wayne. Dustin would be too nosy, trying to take over the conversation, and Steve honestly didn't have the brainpower to corral him right now. Plus, Steve doubted that Eddie wanted his crush to hear whatever he was about to say. More than that, Steve needed to not actively be resenting Robin over some stupid boy she probably didn't even like. 

God, he hated even thinking that. 

"What's up, Munson?" Steve said. If he talked to Eddie like one of his old teammates, he could pull off sounding normal. Maybe. Probably. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together as if he was gearing up for something big. "If you're going to be out there looking for those kids, then I want to be there with you. Join you, I mean. On your mission." 

"Um, no. Absolutely not." Steve didn't even have to think about it. 

"Listen, I know we aren't exactly friends, but--" 

"What? No, that's not--" Steve rubbed at his nose, trying to find the right words. He had always been awful at explaining himself. For a long time, it had been hard for him to understand that not everyone thought in the same pathways as him. Even now, when he finally understood the weird looks that people gave him when he spoke, he never seemed to pick the right words to make people understand. That was why Nancy had always been mad at him-- He could never make her understand what he was actually trying to say. It seemed important, now, to make sure Eddie didn't walk away from this with the same irritation. 

"Look, Eddie," Steve said, starting over. "I need to keep this hunt lowkey, alright? As little people as involved as possible, for my own sanity if not for your own safety. I already have to look after Robin and Dustin because they refuse to let this go at all, and I really don't think that I can manage looking after a third Wesen kid while hunting for someone who is actively trying to capture Wesen children. If you go out there with me, there's no guarantee you're coming back, and I'm not repaying Wayne for his kindness by getting his nephew killed." 

All of Steve's efforts had apparently failed, because the apprehension on Eddie's face had already melted into a pissy little frown. "I'm older than you, Harrington, and I can take care of myself," Eddie said, and Steve had to hold himself back from laughing. As if age had ever had anything to do with it. As if Steve hadn't seen the tiniest twelve year old girl throw men like Eddie to their deaths. 

Luckily, Steve didn't have to reach that deeply to push back. He had four years of memories that were more than enough to keep Eddie Munson far away from any battle field. "Oh yeah? The bloodless, wieder Blutbad is going to fight the monster off himself?" Steve asked. "Eddie, I had to physically drag Tommy Hagan away from kicking your ass multiple times, and that kid was made of pipe cleaners and marshmallow fluff. I don't think you can handle a real fight. ... No offense." Even he didn't believe his own weak appeal at civility. 

"Oh, what, and you can? You got your ass beat by Jonathan Byers, man. We all heard the rumors," Eddie hissed, and Steve could have recognized the wounded masculinity a mile away. 

He rolled his eyes, a hand on his hip. "I do just fine when my opponent isn't a teenage boy with a mother waiting for him to come home, turns out," Steve said, thinking about the way bone collapsed so easily under the weight of his bat. Yeah, he did okay. 

Eddie looked away, flushing. It wasn't the first time that night, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Steve couldn't blame him; While Eddie had obviously learned a lot about self control from his uncle, whatever he saw in Steve's woged eyes must have been enough to seriously throw him off. Even El and Robin, who'd had the most violent reactions, had mostly gotten over it. Eddie, though, looked at Steve like he might start foaming at the mouth and biting at any moment. 

Which was a little ironic, considering, but Steve wasn't about to point that out. 

Making Eddie uncomfortable had never been on Steve's to-do list, so he decided to simply avoid eye contact from here on out. Honestly, it was a little relieving, because Steve hated eye contact with strangers he wasn't trying to flirt something out of. But it was a little upsetting that Eddie didn't want to look at him. And now he didn't have an excuse to look at Eddie's eyes. 

Whatever, this would probably be good for him. They could just stop making eye contact, and Steve could finally put this stupid crush to bed. 

Fuck, no, Harrington. Don't call it a crush. 

Still looking away, Eddie deflated, and Steve noticed he was just a hair shorter than Steve himself. "Alright, fine," Eddie said,  "I'm not going to be any help in a fight. But I know way more about Wesen society than either of those kids you've got with you--" 

"Oh, come on," Steve said, a little irritated by Eddie playing dumb, "you literally know Robin--" 

"And you need the help, Harrington. Don't pretend you don't." In that, at least, Eddie's voice was firm. Confident. Too bad for him that Steve had always been better at faking it. 

"No, I don't need another tag-along nerd," Steve said, pulling for a little of that tried and true Hagan disdain. He just needed Eddie to give this up, go back inside, and pretend none of this ever ended up on his doorstep. "I have books and shit for that, okay? My parents didn't leave me totally unarmed; We'll be fine--" 

"If you didn't need the help, then why did you show up here asking questions then, huh?" Eddie asked, and, well-- It was a good question. One that Steve knew he wouldn't exactly be able to explain his way out of, considering he was lost in the woods on most of this. 

Steve decided to stop arguing he didn't need help, and just start arguing that he didn't need help from Eddie. Something in him smarted at actively trying to hurt the man's feelings, but it would be better for them both, in the long run. "Because the 14 year old would have shown up alone, if I hadn't, and while I know you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag, I wasn't so sure about Wayne," Steve said.

"Look, Harrington, just-- I have actual connections in Wesen society. Not one or two friends, but a whole network of people in Indiana who know more about themselves than any Grimm that ever lived," Eddie said, and Steve had to wonder how many families on the list Eddie could find a friend of a friend to talk to. How deep these connections really went. Would a Jagerbar family be more willing to talk to a Blutbad who showed up on their doorstep? "If you're going to be actually investigating this, you're going to need someone who can get you answers from people like that. Not the books your parents left you." 

"Why? Why can't you just stay safe?" And Steve was talking to Eddie, sure, but meant everyone. No one in Hawkins was willing to get themselves to a safe place and just stay there. They all had to be heroes, and it was driving Steve insane trying to keep them all alive. Why did Eddie have to be stricken with the same affliction? Why did it have to be every fucking time? 

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened," Eddie said, an answer that Steve had already known. It was the same reason he had even agreed to come here, the same reason he had stepped between monsters and the people he cared about every time. It was the same reason that Nancy had walked away from him to find answers, and the same reason Dustin put his stupid neck on the line every single day-- Because they had to. They didn't have any other choice. Steve just wished it could be someone else, for once. 

 "I know I wasn't always the best at it," Eddie continued, his big, sad eyes shining in the moonlight, "but I have done everything I can to try and clean up the messes you couldn't. If there was a bully stupid enough to piss you off, I made sure they came after me, not after the other guys. Because... Because I couldn't handle it happening to someone who couldn't take it, and I knew I could. And I can take whatever this monster's got to throw at me. But those kids...." 

If there was one thing Steve could not stand, it was to see himself in someone else. He could barely stand to look at Dustin, sometimes, especially when he was angry and lecturing his friends. More and more the kid was picking up Steve's sarcasm. But in Eddie it was worse, because it was the only part of himself that Steve even liked. It pissed him off, on Eddie, made him want to take the guy by the shoulders and shake some self-preservation into him. But Steve's hands were tied. He knew it would make him the worst kind of asshole if he brushed Eddie off, and the worst of it was he couldn't even pretend that he wasn't here for the exact same reasons. There was no talking Eddie out of this, and if he was anything like Steve, he'd probably just show up if Steve told him no. 

 "Fine. Fine! I'll keep you in the loop," Steve said, as angry about capitulating as he had been with Dustin earlier. He knew he needed to get better at saying no, but he would rather people do stupid shit with him around to pull them out of it, and he was beginning to suspect that everyone knew it. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to plan a way to keep Eddie safe and far enough away from Steve that he wouldn't be too distracting. Or, worse, actually helpful. The last thing Steve needed was another competent monster hunter to embarass himself in front of. "I-- Ugh. I need to make some calls, get some info on the human side of things so we can start trying to figure out how this guy is finding these kids. Me and Robin have Monday off, so we can meet up that afternoon and go over what I found. Fair warning, the answer might be 'absolutely nothing'." 

Eddie brightened, a grin spreading across his face so quickly that Steve was beginning to suspect he had been played. "Sounds good. Who are you calling, though? Is Hop feeding you information? Is that why we knows?" 

"Uh, no." Steve really did not want to tell Eddie that his big, important source was his ex-girlfriend. For a multitude of reasons, most of which Steve didn't want to think about for too long. "I actually-- Well. I know some guys in the government." Because true lies were the best kind of all. 

"Wait, what?"

And, yeah, there was no way Steve was going to give more detail after all the hints Dustin had dropped in the trailer. Look, I'll see you Monday, Eddie, but I really have to go before Robin kills me. Bye," he said, turning on his heel quickly before Eddie could get a word in. 

He heard a confused goodbye mumbled behind him, but Steve kept his head down as he marched to the car. Thoughts swam in Steve's brain at a pace that had his pulse pounding in his temples. Everything, from what little Wayne had told them, to Eddie's crush on Robin, to the reemergence of Steve's worst habits, to Dustin's new obsession with getting into Eddie's club, was a jumbled mess in the front of his mind. And he knew it was stupid and selfish, the way everything suddenly seemed equally important, but Steve had never been very good at compartmentalizing. He dealt with what was in front of him; Always had. 

The problem with that was everything had turned up on his plate at once, and Steve only had so many hands. And mouths. And brains. 

It didn't help that he could already hear Robin and Dustin's voices before he even made it to the Forest Hills sign, much less to the Bimmer. He had no idea what they were arguing about, their voices muffled just enough that Steve couldn't make out any distinct words, but they were obviously arguing about something-- No matter how good Steve's hearing had gotten, it hadn't turned him into Superman yet. There was no overhearing quiet conversations in buildings down the street. They were yelling, and loudly. 

Steve snatched open the driver's side door, already glaring and bitching before he even got a foot in the vehicle. "Literally what is wrong with the two of you?" 

Dustin had put up with Steve's scoldings for too long to take them seriously, and he tried to continue the arguement, not even looking Steve's way. "Would it kill you to admit that I'm right for once--" 

Robin, however, had centered all her attention on Steve the moment the door opened. She watched him with narrowed eyes, now, ignoring Dustin's shrill voice behind her. There was a moment of silence as Steve settled into his seat, but the moment he shut the door, Robin asked, "What happened?" 

Resisting the urge to bash his head against the steering wheel for the next half hour or so, Steve stared down at his hands for a moment. He wasn't even sure what she was asking him, as he doubted that Robin would care that Steve and Eddie had just stood outside and had a little bitch fit about who got to be the bigger hero. He thought she'd probably just roll her eyes and call them both stupid boys, honestly. Or maybe not. Maybe Robin did like Eddie back. Maybe Steve was already in the way again, and it would be better just to let them handle it, let Eddie take the spot that Robin and Dustin had dragged Steve into anyway-- 

"Nothing," Steve said, shaking the threads of anxiety from his head and starting the engine. "Eddie just wanted to ask if he could come the next time we do research. I told him it was cool." 

"Oh, good," Robin said. She didn't look too excited about the news, which was a great sign for him vis a vis getting his heart broken mid-monster hunt again. "It'll be nice to have an extra pair of eyes looking for clues. We need all the help we can get." 

"Yeah," Steve said. The car idled underneath them as Steve fiddled with the air conditioner. He knew he should start driving now if they wanted Robin to make it home on time, but his brain was still spinning. He just needed to breathe for a second. Just a fucking second. "I'm not used to being on the mystery side of things. I usually just show up and swing at whatever seems like the thing most likely to kill someone." 

"And he didn't know what a Grimm was," Robin muttered under her breath. 

"Hey, you have me!" Dustin protested. "I know I'm not as good as Nancy, and I don't have any weird old guys with government documents in his basement or anything, but I figure stuff out all the time!" 

"I know, and I'm gonna call Nance--" Steve paused, then twisted around in his seat to face Dustin in the back. "... Do you think we should be looping Murray in on this Wesen thing?" 

"Who's Murray?" Robin asked. 

"Are you crazy, Steve?" Dustin's voice rose an entire octave. "That racist asshole? Fuck no. He'd probably try to put El in a cage or something. And then we'd have to kill him, and Nancy would be, like, so mad at us. "

That was fair. Steve had never liked Murray, anyway. Despite the fact that he was apparently 'instrumental' to getting justice for Barb, Murray hadn't really seemed to care either way. While Nancy had been in it for the truth, and helping innocent victims, Murray had been mostly focused on being right. In the maybe thirty minutes he'd spoken to the man last Christmas, Murray had spent the entire time forcing uncomfortable eye contact and telling Steve all about his incredibly troubling theories. The more upsetting they were, the more excited he seemed about the whole thing. Steve really didn't want to see how excited he got about more missing kids.

Besides, while Steve trusted that Murray knew better than to cross Hopper by coming for El, Steve absolutely did not believe for a second that Murray wouldn't out every single Wesen involved if it could be used as 'proof'. He was addicted to being right. God, Steve really hoped he could get that impulse out of Dustin before it got too late. 

 "You're probably right," Steve said, and turned back around, putting the car into reverse. 

"Who the fuck is Murray!?" 

They did not make it home in time for Robin's curfew. 

Luckily, Robin's mother had been delighted to meet him, and though Robin complained under her breath the entire time about her mom getting the wrong idea, Steve had been happy to play along if it meant Robin didn't get grounded. Mrs. Buckley had all but begged Steve to stay and have dessert, and Steve was oddly touched-- The woman was obviously terrified of a Grimm in her kitchen, never looking him in the eyes for longer than a moment or two, but her offer sounded genuine and warm. He would have said yes, if Dustin hadn't been in the car. It would have been nice to know another Wesen family. 

It was only after he'd dropped Dustin off that Steve remembered why he really shouldn't accept food from the Buckleys. 

The next day before work, Steve called Nancy Wheeler for the first time in months. They'd talked since they'd broken up; Of course they had. With Dustin and Mike as close as they were, it was practically impossible for them not to run into each other now and again, and it wasn't like they hated each other, now. Phone calls were more intimate than a casual conversation, though. It spoke of more intent, to just call someone up and chat for hours, and while Steve was all for trying to be friends, eventually, he hadn't wanted Nancy to fill pressured by him calling her out of nowhere-- He hadn't wanted to put Jonathan in that position, either, though he figured his own feelings had never crossed Jonathan's mind. 

He owed it to the guy, he figured, for being such a dick. 

He figured neither of them would mind in an emergency, though-- They were all nearly adults now, and experienced monster hunters. They could have this conversation without bringing their history into it. Even as he justified it to himself, Steve hoped that it wasn't Ted or Karen who would answer the phone. Ted hated him and Karen had always liked him a little too much; The last thing Steve needed was another set of parents assuming that Steve was chasing after their daughter. 

He could just see Mrs. Buckley and Karen Wheeler glaring at each other during a PTA meeting, fighting over a boy that both their daughters felt nothing but disgust for. It would be funny for about two seconds, until it absolutely tanked Steve's barely recovered reputation.

In Steve's ear, the ringing stopped, and Steve straightened from his slump over his kitchen counter just enough to brace himself. 

"Wheeler Residence, Nancy speaking."

Steve sighed in relief. "Uh, hey, Nance. It's me. ... Steve," he said awkwardly. He hated talking to people on the phone. Without facial cues, he was basically lost in conversations; Most girls were easy because they only wanted to flirt, but for everything else, Steve could barely understand what people were trying to say, much less what they were thinking. He decided to barge through the stilted small talk and get right to the point. It wasn't like Nancy's opinion of him could get any lower. "Look, do you have time to help me with a problem?" 

There was silence on the other side of the phone, leaving Steve squirming for a few moments before Nancy said, "Is this about the shirt you lost? The red one?" There was something tense in Nancy's voice, something that Steve couldn't place, but had to assume was anger or  suspicion or both. 

"What?" Steve said, before he could even think about it. For a moment, Steve had thought she was actually asking about a shirt, and it tripped him up. It was only after he registered the tension in her voice that he realized this was probably some kind of code or implication he just didn't understand. He had no idea what a red shirt meant, or why Steve would have been the one to lose it, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it probably had something to do with the Upside Down. "Oh! No, no, but it is about a mutual friend of ours. The one we met at Chief Hopper's?" 

There was another pause, and when Nancy's voice returned, it was unsure. "But it's... not about the red shirt?" 

"No, it's--" Steve sighed. He hated talking in code, hated that he couldn't just say what he meant and ask Nancy to stop talking to him like she was afraid he might actually explode from stupidity. It was so stupid; She was the one who had wanted to go to the cops to begin with, and now she and everyone else was so afraid to even breathe the wrong way. And Steve got it; He really did. Keeping El safe was the first priority, but what was the point of never talking about anything else? They all knew about the Upside Down and the labs. The government knew they knew.  And it wasn't like the American government didn't know that Wesen existed; They'd had little Wesen girls in labs to do experiments on. They should have fucking guessed one of them would figure it out, eventually. They should have been the ones to stop the kids from going missing, the ones to stop monsters so his parents didn't have to. If they wanted to get involved now, good for them. Steve would happily hand it over. For now, though, he was sick of pretending like he cared. If they were even listening. "Look, Nancy, do you honestly think you've been bugged?" 

"Steve!" Nancy hissed, sharp and angry. Months ago, when they had been together, it would have immediately made him step back and apologize. Now, though, it just made the foreign strength that Steve had begun to think of as his rage prickle across the back of his neck. 

"I'm serious, Nance. This is serious," he repeated, because she didn't often believe he knew the importance of things. Steve didn't take it personally; She did that to most people. He just didn't have the patience for the conversation it would take to convince her. "There's no time to be playing spy games or whatever." 

"The government is serious, Steve," Nancy said, as if Steve hadn't been there. "I don't know why--" 

"The government can go fuck itself, starting with Reagan. And if anyone is listening, they can tell him I said that, too. Whatever, they probably know about all this shit anyway-- And if they don't, oh fucking well," Steve said.

Nancy made a little noise of shock, one that reminded Steve of his mother. All suburban sensibilities. It was a practiced sound, one that Nancy had obviously donned out of some kind of camoflague or simply habit, but it made Steve roll his eyes all the same. 

"Steve, what has--" she began, but Steve wasn't interested in playing their assigned roles right now. 

"El wasn't the only one of her kind," he interrupted. Immediately, Nancy's voice failed. Good, he thought. He could practically feel her investigative instincts firing up through the phone line. Hopefully now they could dispense with the masquerade of normalcy. 

"We knew that, already," she said, eventually. "Her siblings--" 

"No, I mean... El would have had powers even if she'd never been taken to the lab," Steve huffed. He wasn't explaining this very well. It would be easier, he thought, if he could just tell her about himself. That would be proof enough for anyone, especially with his Woge backing it up. However, he wasn't sure if he wanted Nancy to know-- It was hard enough to admit his own lack of humanity to people who understood, like Robin or Eddie. It was entirely another to admit to a human. Hopper had been a necessary evil, because he needed someone to put him down if something went wrong, but what good would telling Nancy do? It would only confirm what she already knew; Steve had never been a real person in the first place. 

"There's whole races of them, Nancy," he continued, trying to keep it all as vague as possible. "They're called Wesen, and they-- They're not as powerful as El, usually, but they're not human. They're more than that. And that's why the lab wanted El so badly. That's why the lab wanted all those kids so badly. Because there's not that many of them, but there's-- There's more than we thought, Nancy. So much more."

Nancy's voice was faint. "... What?"

"I know it doesn't make sense," Steve admitted. He had already known it was going to be hard to sell Nancy on a fairy tale without proof, but without outing himself or Dustin, his hands were tied. "I know that, Nance, but I've met them. Kids and adults both, I've met them and I've seen them 'change' like she does. Ask Hopper, if you don't believe me. It's real. It's all real. And-- and they're in trouble."

"Steve, how do you know this?" Nancy asked, and this time Steve had no problem identifying the emotion in her words. It was doubt, plain and simple, and Steve tried not to think of all the hurtful reasons it was there. 

"They--" Steve paused. He really should have come up with a lie before this, but he had honestly thought having Hopper on his side would have been enough to sway her. Maybe he should have known better. "They came to me because they saw me hanging around with El. She's been trying to find more out about her parents, so..."

"Really? That's it? They just saw you hanging out with El and thought, oh, he looks like the person to talk to about this?" If Steve wasn't mistaken, there was a thread of laughter in Nancy's voice. As if it was so laughable that anyone would choose Steve to be their hero. And that was fair, maybe, because Steve hadn't been chosen by anything other than genetics, but it didn't change that he was the only one that could fix things. And Steve needed her with him on that, whether she believed in him or not. 

"Look, it doesn't matter why they chose me," Steve said, already sick of trying to justify himself.  "The point is, kids are going missing. Tons of them. Like, dozens per year. Not just little kids, either, but people your age. And I think I might be able to stop the guy doing this, but I need your help."

"And you're sure it's not..." Nancy's voice trailed off, unwilling to say it out loud. Steve wasn't sure if she was worried about the bugs again, or if she thought that saying it out loud would bring it back into their lives. Either way, the unsaid name hung between them like a physical wall until Steve swallowed his guilt down. This was different, and it was something he could still stop. They didn't have the time. 

"Yes, Nance. This is just... plain human evil," Steve said. "Well, not human. But you get what I mean." 

"I still don't understand how you got caught up in this," Nancy said.  

"It doesn't matter at this point, Nance. I don't--" Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. "Look, if this is going to be a problem, I can go to someone else." 

"No!" Nancy's protest was quick, the idea of being taken completely off the case apparently much more terrifying than a few unanswered questions. "No, I want to help. What do you need?" 

"So, I've got the Wesen-- that's what they're called, Wesen, it means--" 

"People in German, yes," Nancy, as if that was common knowledge. Steve had no idea when everyone in Hawkins learned German, or why he had been missing from class that day, but whatever. That made this whole thing easier. 

"... Yes, so, I've got that angle covered. I've got some-- some connections in the community, I guess," Steve said. He felt much less protective over Eddie and Robin's status than he did Dustin's, especially considering that they weren't so involved in Nancy's life already. Still, he didn't like the idea of her knowing. Sure, she wasn't as involved in their lives, but they were all going to the same school, and from the sound of it, they were already having a rough enough time there. He hoped she didn't dig. "But I'm having a little trouble getting information on the human side of things. You know, where this guy might be finding the kids, if they hang out in any of the same places, you know? So I was wondering if you had any sources at the paper that might--" 

"I don't work at the paper anymore, Steve," Nancy said, voice clear as Steve's ramblings tumbled to a hault around it.  

"What?" 

"I said I don't--" 

"No, I heard you, just..." Steve stopped, taking in a breath. She had been so excited for that internship. It had been all she talked about, in the few times they had spoken recently. She and Jonathan both had been so thrilled to start the first steps of a life they could build together. Steve had been ruthlessly jealous, but hearing the flat, monotone cadence of her voice now only filled him with sudden alarm. "God, Nance, are you okay?" 

"It's fine," Nancy said, and they had dated long enough for Steve to know that those words were almost always a lie. It might have been a little hypocritical for him to think, but Steve had long since accepted that a Wheeler would always complain when they were happy and smile when they were miserable. Even little Holly whined about being uncomfortable when she fell asleep against Steve's shoulder. 

"No, come on, you can talk to me. Did something happen?" Maybe it was the months of feeling like the entire world was on his shoulders, but Steve felt the unfamiliar urge to fix everything. He was aware enough of his own behavior to know that in the past he had ignored every problem in Nancy's life and hoped for the best, but that obviously hadn't worked. There had to be something he could do, to fix this for her and Jonathan. "If-- If something happened, I can help. I can call my mom, you know, my parents donate a lot to the paper, and if I call her--" 

"Steve, I can take care of myself!" Steve thought, absurdly, of Eddie. How he so badly needed to be cared for, how Wayne wanted desperately to do it for him, and how Eddie chafed and squirmed under the gentle hand of his uncle's worry. The same protestations had fallen from his lips just the night before, but when Wayne had pushed, Eddie had seemed exasperated but... fond? Maybe he and Nancy would get there, one day, maybe she would let him be her friend--

"No, I know you can," Steve said, trying to sound as responsible as possible. "I just--" 

"You're not my boyfriend anymore!" 

The explosion of Nancy's anger, now so obvious, drew Steve up short. He had never forgotten that Nancy had dumped him. He thought of it every time he saw her, how badly she had hurt him. Was he acting like he had forgotten? He hadn't meant to. If anything, Steve had gone out of his way to give Nancy and Jonathan space, to make sure they both knew that he had accepted his loss. Steve couldn't tell how he had overstepped, but it was obvious he had. Nancy wasn't someone who would just bring it up out of nowhere. Steve had messed up, somewhere. 

But all he had done was care about her. Was that it? Was that what he had done wrong? Steve hadn't thought so; He'd cared the same way about Carol and Nicole and his former female friends, and their boyfriends had never seemed threatened outside of some light teasing about the unstoppable charisma of Steve Harrington. So maybe it was just Nancy. Maybe it was just with her that he wasn't allowed to care. Or maybe it was a Steve problem. Maybe it was only him who wasn't allowed to be her friend. 

"Okay?" Steve said. He rubbed at his nose as he coughed, trying to rid the quaver from his throat. "Okay, I, uh... I'm sorry, Nancy. I didn't mean to overstep. I'm... I'm sorry I bothered you, too. I'll find somebody else." 

"No, Steve, I--" Nancy sighed, and Steve recognized the emotion behind that one all too well. He had fucked up again, somehow. She was sighing like his mother did when Steve didn't pick something up quickly enough, like teachers did when he asked stupid questions. Steve flinched away from the phone, even as Nancy said, "I can help without the paper. I want to help." 

"Great! That's-- That's great," Steve said, hoping it was true. "Um, hold on, I have a list of names. Do you have a pen and paper?" 

Slowly, Steve read off the list of names and towns, occassionally stopping to fill Nancy in on small details like parents' names or schools. Because the victims were kids, there was a depressingly small amount of information they had found. In fact, most of what they had was a list of everyone who had a drug addict as a parent, which was interesting, but he wasn't sure how to explain everything to Nancy without her freaking out. Besides, if they were connected through the Buckleys, there was no way Robin and Steve wouldn't find the connection eventually. He just needed Nancy to check out the small, human things. Things Steve had never been good at. 

"Anything you can find would be... I mean, I've already checked, you know?" Steve said, nervously. "But I'm not half the researcher you are, and it would make me feel better to have you checking my work. There's no telling what I missed." 

"Right. Well, I'll start working on this immediately. It's not like I've got anything else to do," Nancy said, bitterly. 

Steve made a small noise of agreement that he hoped wasn't too offensive. Usually, he would have stayed on the phone for just a hair too long, taking advantage of the situation to find out how Nancy was doing, what she and Jon were up too. Sometimes, he asked about the kids, and Nancy would explain whatever game they had been playing in a way that actually made sense for Steve. He liked those conversations; They made him feel like he was finally making progress on the 'friends' thing. After Nancy's outburst, though, Steve had to wonder if Nancy had ever enjoyed them at all, or if she just assumed it was Steve's last, desperate attempt to win her back. 

He tried to think of the politest way to hang up, so he could go to work and try to forget any of this ever happened. Robin would be a great distraction for his brain, her rambling going to a good cause for once, and maybe one of the kids would come in. Maybe he could pick up dinner on the way to Hopper's, maybe Max would be there, too, and Steve could spend some time talking to people who actually wanted him around. Maybe-- 

"Steve, can I..." Nancy hesitated. She sounded almost shy, in a way she hadn't around Steve since they first started dating. "Why didn't you go to Hopper with this?" 

When Wayne had asked Steve that question, he had to bite his tongue somewhat. Steve had been raised in a family with a lot of secrets, although he had no idea how many at the time. And family secrets stayed inside the family at all costs. There were a lot of things Steve wouldn't say to someone on the outside, and even more he simply wouldn't. Things that Wayne wouldn't understand. 

Nancy was different. Nancy had been here for all of it, every second, and she was deeper into the inner circle than Steve himself. More than that, Nancy was keenly aware just how badly adults had kept failing children in Hawkins. She would understand why Steve couldn't just hand it all over and pretend it wasn't happening. He almost wanted to point out that, at one point, she hadn't either, but-- Well. Although Steve still stung with betrayal, at the moment Nancy sounded more curious than accusatory. There was no point in picking a fight. 

"I love Hop, you know that. Mostly, I just want to keep him completely out of this. I wouldn't be able to take it if this put him or El in harm's way. But also, I..." Steve sighed. "It's hard to agree with the way Hop does things sometimes. You know what I mean. You've seen the way he can get with El." 

"He's been through a lot, Steve," Nancy said, softly. 

"Believe me, I get that," Steve said, because Hopper had told him a little after a few too many beers. About Sarah and the way El had torn that hole in his chest right back open. Steve honestly understood; That didn't mean he had to like it. Especially not when, bizarrely, it was pointed in his direction. "And he's been trying to be better about it all. But I can't have him trying to Papa Bear me right now, and if we find those kids, I really can't predict what he's going to do. I need... I need someone I can trust to do things the right way, even if that person isn't me. But Hop's a complete mystery, and I can never tell if he's going to be a hardass or a loose canon. I can't afford that right now." 

"But you trust me?" Nancy said,

"Of course I do. Nance, come on." Steve's voice dropped into softness, almost a whisper. He felt terrible, talking about how much he liked her after everything. Felt guilty and ashamed and sneaky and gross. But he couldn't have Nancy thinking that he didn't still think she was the best person he'd ever met. "You're the smartest person I've ever met, and you've never steered me wrong. Even when... Even when we've fought about stuff, it's just because you were doing what you thought was right. I trust you not to let your emotions put people in danger, which is more than I can say for... Well, Hopper, but me, too. Joyce. Most people, I think. You, though... You're good." 

There was another long, uncomfortable silence between them. Steve kept his breathing as shallow as possible, trying not to make too much noise. Eventually, though, it had simply gone on too long for Steve to spend leaned against his counter and doing nothing-- He did still have a job. "Nance, I--" 

"I hope you have a good day at work," Nancy blurted, and then Steve heard nothing but the buzzing of the dial tone. 

"What the hell just..." Steve muttered, pulling the phone receiver away from his ear and staring at it as if it had more information on what the hell had just happened. The receiver didn't talk, just stayed inanimate in his hand, plastic and useless. "I would love to have even one day not be completely fucking weird." 

Maybe it was nothing, he told himself as he put the phone back on the hook. Maybe she was just busy, or maybe she had realized that she didn't actually want to be talking to him. Maybe she had just gotten freaked out by the way he still thought of her. 

He hoped it wasn't anything more complicated than that. Steve wasn't sure that his brain could take it. 

Luckily, Robin was more than enough distraction when he got to work. A nervous tension had taken over her body, including her brain, apparently. It was like working with a sugar-fiend elementary schooler. Everything Robin said all Saturday was twice as many words with half the substance, and she never stopped moving. She reminded Steve of a spooked squirrel, darting from station to station, hands always toying with something not meant to be toyed with. At first, Steve had tried to be sympathetic. Robin had been through a lot, learned a lot about herself and her family, this weekend. Of course she was a little shaken up. 

Still, eight hours was a long, long time. By Sunday morning, Steve almost missed the Robin who critiqued his every move and word. At least she had a personality that he could stand to be in the room with. Crisis mode had been cute at first, and then deeply annoying, but Steve had realized that this wasn't just anxiety or nerves. Robin was quickly heading into a full scale breakdown, and he wasn't sure how easily he was going to be able to clean up after that. 

After hours of talking about the weather on a loop during their Sunday shift, Steve finally gave up and broke into the heart of the matter.

"So how's it going with your parents?" 

Robin's reaction was swift, her whole body filling with anger at once until she was standing straight, her shoulders squared, and staring at him like he would attack at any moment. If she was Woged, Steve was sure her fur would actually be bristling. 

"I'm only asking because I know how it can feel," Steve said, doing his best to keep his voice soft and comforting. He made sure not to make eye contact; An accidental woge would just set her off. "I mean, you already know all about my parents, but... I had Dustin and El and Hopper to talk about it with. It's a lot to process, and I didn't want you to have to do it yourself." 

For a moment, Robin only stood stock-still, her muscles twitching with tightly held energy. Eventually, though, her stance softened, face going slack with what Steve thought might have been exhaustion. She groaned, turning away from him and leaning against the service counter. He gave her a moment, letting her work through her embarassment before she said, "I thought I was going to hate him. I really did. But then I looked him in the eyes and it... It was hard. Not because I didn't love him anymore. I do. But I know I'm not supposed to, and now when I look at him I want to throw up because I know what he's done, but he's still my dad, and I can't hate him." 

Steve hummed, considering. "Alright, that's less relatable then I thought it was going to be, can't lie." 

"But also I'm... really pissed off?" Robin ignored him, sounding unsure if she was even describing the right emotion. 

"There it is." 

"I just don't know why he would risk all our lives like this," Robin said, words in a rush and tempo gaining as she continued. "Even if your parents don't come back, ever, even if no one ever finds out... This is the exact stuff that got us kicked out of the last place. And I thought it was just rumors. I thought it was just Wesen gossip bullshit! But, no, it was his fault. And if he's not careful, then we're going to have to pack up and move again. It wasn't so bad, last time, 'cause I was so small, but... I don't have it in me to start over again. I don't! Why the hell did he think this was okay?" 

"Honestly, Rob?" Steve winced. He hated that he had to be the one to say this, because generally he was all for being as anti-parent as possible, but Robin seemed actually distressed. She deserved answers, and Steve certainly didn't have them for her. "This is going to sound insane coming from me, but I think that might be something you have to talk to your dad about." 

"And freak him out? No," Robin said, shaking her head as if she could banish the very thought, "that would just make everything worse. He'd probably move us to California on pure adrenaline alone." 

"At least you don't have to worry about my parents. You're right, I'm not sure they're ever coming home. And even if they did..." Steve shrugged. "They're not exactly keen in meeting my friends. I'm pretty sure they think I'm still hanging out with Tommy and Carol everyday. Unless your dad does something ridiculously stupid, I doubt they'd even notice." 

"This whole thing is ridiculously stupid," Robin hissed, and, yeah, she wasn't wrong, but that wasn't exactly the point Steve had been trying to make. He decided to change tactics.  

"If it helps, Hop and I have already talked about what to do if my parents come home and start causing problems," he confessed, even though he knew she would probably tease him about trying to be a super-hero again later. As long as she didn't let Dustin hear it, he was willing to sacrifice his dignity to keep her from freaking out.

"Is that the plan Dustin was talking about?" Robin asked, too in her own head to start the mocking campaign. 

"Yeah. Neither of us really felt... comfortable, letting my parents run the town the way they have until now. I don't like the idea of them holding things over people's heads. Like, I have no idea what their deal with the Wesen in Hawkins is, but I don't like it," Steve said. He wished he had talked to Wayne about it more, but he knew that revealing just how little his parents had told him would only worry the old man. "I know that, like, laws aren't that much different, but. Well. Hop isn't exactly great at those, either. I doubt he's going to change his mind just because people agreed to it when they got here." Steve wasn't great at remembering all the words for politics and wars and such, but he was pretty sure he knew right from wrong, now. Nancy had often talked about making people agree to things they actually had no choice in, just to make it look like you weren't a terrible person forcing people into things. His parents loved that trick; There was never a rule in the Harrington household they couldn't make him feel like shit for hating. He had no doubts they'd pull the same crap on some poor, scared stranger.

"That's great. No, seriously, it is. I'm sure for people like the Munsons, it'll be... It'll be great, to not have to worry. But my dad is doing something bad, Steve. Like, genuinely morally wrong," Robin said, and Steve had to admit that was a fair point. "Hopper would have a problem with that. And he would be right to." 

"Why does Hopper have to know about it?" Steve asked, confused.

"... You would keep it from him? I thought he was, like, your 'psuedo-dad' or whatever," Robin said, air quotes and all. 

"I keep things from Hop literally all the time," Steve said with a scoff. He wasn't sure when he had suddenly changed into such a good boy in Robin's eyes, but lying to parents had always been part of the Steve Harrington brand. When that parent was a cop, all the practice came in handy. "It's the only way El gets to see sunlight or hold hands with her boyfriend. I'm, like, a fucking professional at keeping things from Hopper. The criminals of Hawkins should be asking me for tips, at this point." 

"Classy," Robin said, grinning. Likely at the image of a hardened criminal having an actual conversation with Steve. He knew it was ridiculous; That's why he said it.  

"Besides, it's not like your dad is the one killing people or grinding them up. If I had to guess, he's sourcing them out of state. Maybe from a morgue or something?" Steve said, unable to stop himself from pulling a disgusted face. "Like, if this is a big operation, they're probably trying to keep it as clean as possible, to not get attention. I doubt anyone is dying because of him. People would notice!  Someone just thought it was a good opportunity for a quick buck." 

"You almost sound like you think he should keep doing it," Robin grumbled.

"No, it's still gross," Steve said. He'd always thought drugs were kind of stupid, honestly. Sure, some weed from time to time was fine, it was basically no different than drinking a lot, but otherwise it all seemed like a really expensive way to lose your teeth and die early. The idea of adding that to cannibalism was even wilder. He couldn't imagine ever needing a high that badly. "If you came in loaded on human heart one day, I'd probably stop talking to you. I definitely don't think I can look Mrs. Henderson in the eye again. But, uh, I don't think anyone deserves to die for it. Especially when the problem seems so..." Steve wasn't sure he had the words for it.

"So?" Robin prompted.

"I mean, he's not the only person doing it, you know?" Steve asked, hands spreading parallel as if he was making a globe. "The problem is bigger than him. Your dad being punished isn't actually going to do all that much, when you think about it. Like, have you thought about how weird it is that half the missing kids had parents in his black book? That's fucked. And the thing is, if something happened to your dad, they would just get it somewhere else. I think if we wanna stop this drug organ thing, it's gonna take a lot more time and patience than any Harrington has, including me."

Robin nodded to herself, silently, brow creased with thought. Steve, a little surprised that had actually made sense to her, turned back to scraping dried ice cream off the freezer. He didn't get very far before Robin said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, Steve, but I have to ask." 

"Yeah?" 

"Why do you go so far to save people like my dad when I know you're terrified of pissing yours off?" When Steve turned to look at her, Robin's face was solemn and her blue eyes were intense. Predator eyes. "You know what's gonna happen. I know you know. So why are you doing it anyway?" 

Steve looked down at the scraper in his hands, picking at the residue on the edge with his thumb nail. He didn't like thinking about the inevitable end, hated even more knowing that he was only speeding it up. But Steve had told himself, two years ago, that he had to stop letting fear keep him from doing the right thing. And to his own surprise, he actually had. Steve wasn't about to break that streak now. 

"... Your dad is a good dad?" he asked. 

Robin sighed. "He doesn't always do it the right way, but I can't imagine a dad who would love me more than him." 

Steve smiled sadly, and shrugged. "That's good enough for me." 

After work that day, Steve came home to find his parents' answering machine blinking red at him. The kids hardly used the thing when they were calling Steve, mostly because they knew if he didn't answer they were more likely to find him somewhere else. The only people who really left messages were his parents' coworkers, which Steve had always thought was rather rich. They, of all people, should know his parents were off on business trips-- It made a lot more sense now that he knew. As Steve got older, the messages grew more and more sparing. Still, the answering machine blinked. 

Steve rewound the recording and hit play. 

"Steve, it's Nancy," the recording said. Nancy's voice wavered on her own name. "Can you call me ba--" 

Nancy's voice cracked, and that was all it took for Steve stop the recording and pick up the phone. 

"Wheeler residence, this is N--" 

"Nancy, it's me." Steve frowned. He could hear her sniffling over the line, breathing deeply like she only did when she didn't want someone to notice that she was losing it. They had always been alike that way, never wanting the other one to see them cry. Steve had always just let her pretend, not wanting to push her out of her comfort zone. Well, he was sick of pretending. 

"Oh, Steve. Good," Nancy said, voice uncharacteristically flat. "I was worried. I didn't--" 

Steve cut through the bullshit. "Nancy, what's wrong?" 

Nancy breathed deep. "Have you watched the news in the past two days?" she asked, voice soft. Like she was trying to gentle a blow. Like she was making bad news easier to bear.

"No," Steve said, blood running cold. He couldn't stop it. He knew he couldn't stop it now, when it was too late, but he tried bargaining with the universe anyway. Nancy was smarter than him; she could stop it, right? She could make it all go away. "Nancy, it was two days. I took two days to stop and do research," he begged. It was a poor excuse, but he was so tired.

"There's been five more," Nancy said, voice weak. 

"No. Are you--" Steve's stomach lurched, and he stopped talking for fear he would vomit if he tried. He felt his body lean against the wall next to the phone, and closed his eyes, accepting the weakness that overtook him.

"I've checked the list a hundred times, Steve." Nancy took a deep breath, the air rattling in her lungs. "They're not here." 

"No." Steve couldn't even regret the sob in his voice. It was as gentle as he could make it, when he wanted to scream. 

"Steve, they're... they were close," Nancy whispered. "Close enough that the news anchors keep talking about Will and Barb." 

Steve flinched like she had punched him in the chest. He had brought her into this. He had failed Nancy as much as he had failed those kids. Everytime Steve tried to breathe, it got caught in his throat-- He could feel the sorrow and the panic making a fist around his throat and squeezing tight."I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Nance." 

"They're not wrong," Nancy continued, and she didn't sound like herself. She sounded distant, faraway, like it couldn't reach her anymore. Like something outside of herself was compelling her to keep talking, when the girl herself just wanted to be done with it. "Everything the cops are saying... It's her, Steve. Parents and friends in the same house, and they're still just gone. Not a sound, no sign of a struggle. No witnesses. It's her. It's what happened to her." 

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry." What else was he supposed to say?

A long moment passed, Steve just listening to Nancy breathe on the line while he tried not to cry loud enough to disturb her. Eventually, she said, voice the youngest Steve had ever heard it, "Steve, can you-- Can you find them? You said you knew who was taking these kids; Can you find them?" 

"I don't... Nancy, I don't think they're alive," he admitted. Steve had never said it out loud before, fearing that it would make things too real. He hadn't wanted to scare Dustin, hadn't wanted to tempt fate-- Steve had kept telling himself that it didn't matter, that as long as he could stop it before it hunted again, then it would be okay. But he was wrong. He had been so, so wrong. And now it was time for him to admit it. "The thing that's taking them is a hunter. The things they can do... It's bad. I can't bring them home. I'm sorry." 

Nancy's breath hitched on the end of the line, and Steve realized she was crying. A year of dating, and it was only eight months after their breakup that they cried together. For Barb, for every kid growing up in a place that wanted them dead, for themselves. 

"I'm sorry." Steve's fingernails bit into his skin. He could feel himself woge, and wished that he had claws like Robin or Eddie, something sharp enough to make him bleed like he deserved. 

Even though he could still hear the rhythmic wheeze of her sobs, Nancy's voice was cold when she spoke again. "We don't have time for sorry, Steve. You find him. You find him, and then you make him pay. Do you understand?" 

Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. Maybe he couldn't bleed, but he would make sure someone did. 

"I promise. I promise, Nance." 

[ghostatas]

OK, theory time Bois (except its not a real theory it's just a cool idea and I want angst)

So we all basically think those black and green structures are like portals right, or some way to communicate with another dimension?

What if, eventually, each parent has to go into a ring/portal as a trial (like quackity said ooc) and face something- whether this leads to the eggs or not is up yo you to decide

This trial can be anything, but my main ideas for it is it shows them

1. Their past,

2. A possible future (most likely where the eggs are dead/ doomsday or something of the likes),

3. Themselves- something like where they have to fight an exact copy of themselves and try to find a way to beat them (which, BTW, is great for character growth and is anime protagnist as FUCK and sounds cool as shit- can't be done for etoiles tho cuz none of the admins can imitate his pvp skill LOL- but off track)

ANYWAYS, onto the main point, FITMC

Fit motherfucking MC, gets the first option of seeing his past.

2b2t, the place he tried so hard to escape. Oh boy. (It'll only be a replica, he still can't use hacks, there's no one there and there's very minute differences but he's too out of it to realise :] )

When he first enters the portal, it takes him a few seconds to truly realise where he is, but when he does he fucking CRUMBLES. That man's walls break faster than my will to live. He immediately starts panicking, and his panic even overpowers his worry about ramon for a second. Its all just 'I can't be back here, I tried so hard to leave, anywhere but here, please'

I feel like his time at Quesadilla Island softened him, distanced him from his past and made it easier to ignore all the shit he's been through. He became happy, he was safe and he was doing good! Still very emotionally constipated and just not even processing the trauma he's experienced as trauma, but as good as he can be despite that. So when he realises he's back in 2b2t all those decades of shit he's been through comes crashing down all at fucking once. So yeah, he goes through it.

His first instinct is to make one of those tiny, reinforced obsidian and hide. Once he's in he just sits down and... tries to process. Tries.

It takes him a very long while to calm down, but only to think properly. The only thing that gets him to stop panicking about his own situation is trying to find ramon, or any clues, because GOD FORBID ramon is also trapped in here, it's the only thing worse than being there himself.

From there he can think more clearly. He has a goal so he pushes all the other shit back down and locks it up for later- he's got his boy to find. At this point he realises there's none of the usual explosions or noise that's usually very common in 2b2t, he checks and sees his hack client is not working still so yeah, odd. He's still very shaken and more vigilant than usual, but he can actually go out and investigate and think now so he goes and does that.

Does he find Ramon? Idk, I didn't think this far.

Well, I did, but maybe not the way I would want it to go. Imagine he finds Ramon, who's fighting a shit tone of mobs. Fit's just desperate to get him to safety, so he doesn't get much time to actually look over his boy or talk to him or anything. Maybe there's a time limit on how long they can stay in this dimension or something, but the portal back is not too far away and it is slowly getting smaller and smaller.

Fit is leading Ramon to the portal, all the while fending off the barage of mobs. Ramon, thankfully, gets to the portal in time, safely. Everyone's at spawn waiting for them, looking over Ramon and making sure he's OK.

Fit does not make it in time.

He is stuck in 2b2t for the foreseeable future, and he can do nothing but wait, just like he always does. Just waiting. Waiting.

[ninjastar107]

'Caught Inbetween' - A protoman-centered MMC fic

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

What was he, really? He was too advance to be like the other machines, but he was too mechanical to be human. Somehow he found himself being a bit of both, being seen as a kid dressed up in a costume by onlookers until they had a better look at his eyes.

The glow always gave him away.

Too mechanical to cause harm, but too human to follow orders. He was a machine, but to what purpose? A son? A vagabond? Blues let the 'thought' be his last. He watched the sunset through dimming vision, the orange mass wobbling and melting into the horizon.

-- "Solar powered, of course that blasted Dr. Light built this one…" an unfamiliar voice grumbled, " Faulty too, must be a prototype."

Where was he? Who was that? He was barely past the BIOS screen when the world faded out once again.

--

Something had changed. There was a new heat that ran through his tubes and wires, coursing with the force of a fusion reactor. Blues snapped his eyes open, the shock of his functions running without delay holding him in silence. Here he was again upon a table, just like the first day he was activated all over again. Above him stood the doctor -a different one this time- who marveled proudly at his work. "Who are you?" Blues asked in awe. "Just an old doctor who happened upon you. Dr. Light always gives up halfway through making a robot, and I always have to finish the job." Wily lamented, "Like with you and your faulty core that I generously replaced. Not all of his robots get this special treatment from me!" Blues sat up. The area around felt like a lab albeit a bit too bright for his liking. Why he could hardly see the doctor over the floodlight above him. A few white screens flickered against the wall, too bright for him to make out anything. "I have so little at my disposal but I had just enough to fix you up! Now you can go and fulfill your function!" Wily smiled. Blues thought on it, flexing his fingers. "I do not have one." Wily stared at him, eyes narrowing as a smug grin tugged at his cheeks, "Oh leave it to Light to not even program that into his machines… No matter, I can fix that!" Blues watched the doctor pace around before heading towards the monitors and merging with the light. He boxed his eyes in an attempt to dim the area, feeling for the light switch on the floodlight and accidentally knocking a few tools off a side table. Wily flashed a brief glare between rummaging about, his hands moving to make a slight modification to the helmet he fashioned. "Hold still now," Wily ordered and promptly stuck it on him, "There you go my boy, a little protection for your new purpose!" The world dimmed tremendously beneath the tinted visor, unveiling a level of detail more attuned to what he was used to. It must be a side effect to the new core, maybe too much energy flow to his optics? The only other explanation would be that this doctor looked at more than his power input... "You never explained what that exactly is." Wily ran a hand down his mustache in disdain, "The world out there is so cruel to someone like me, a shunned expert. Dr.Light gets all of the credit for all of the hard work I put in, why I'm practically exiled from society!" The doctor went back to rummaging, "There is this pesky robot named 'Megaman' always destroying my work! Nothing but minor setbacks, but annoying ones at that! I want you to stop him." Blues glanced down at the buster Wily had procured and offered. He had seen similar designed tools for construction droids, but never without extra wires or battery. "The pest has one similar, but yours is much more powerful. You should be able to defeat him easily- here, let ol' Dr. Wily install it for you!" Not that Blues was going to say no, this doctor saved his life after all and it wouldn't be right to not repay him in some way. He watched intently at the process, noting what parts need to be removed and readjusted so that he could reverse it later. This was just all part of the repayment plan, and once Megaman was defeated, he would return to his normal wandering ways. He wasn't programmed for combat…. but how hard could it be?

[antigonenikk]

do i dare//disturb the universe?

chapter 1/2/3/4

pairing: Eugene Sledge/John “Bucky” Egan

tags: crossover, post-war AU

summary: Eugene Sledge and John Egan are both adrift in the wake of the War. They find each other in a small bar in a small corner of Chinatown. And the rest, as they say, is history.

(tw: brief attempted SA)

“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;

Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,

But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,

Where past and future are gathered.”

…

“Here is a place of disaffection

Time before and time after

In a dim light”

-TS Eliot, Burnt Norton

——————————————————————

All night he thinks about it. John’s smile. He lies in bed thumbing through Four Quartets, trying to concentrate on the page. He can’t for the life of him get past the line, “At the still point of the turning world.” He feels stupid. Around one in the morning he stops thinking at all. Stares at a crack in the wall.

It feels alien to be anything resembling happy. But he is. He feels less lonely, which makes absolutely no sense. He doesn’t know anything about John. He knows he was an officer. He knows he likes jazz. He knows he likes to hear himself talk. The type of information you learn about someone over a dinner party. Not anything you could base a real connection off of. Not like he had with Merriell.

Except that’s not true. He hadn’t really known Merriell any better than he knows John now. Loving someone and knowing them are two very different things. Try as he might never could break through. Walls on top of walls. Every time he got close he was shut out into the cold, Snafu’s mask of cold cruelty coming back with vengeance.

This feels different. John is nothing like Merriell. John’s not like anyone he’s ever met. He can’t figure out why that is. Maybe it’s the way he seems a bit too large for life. Always looking like he’s trying to crawl out of his own skin. Like he might shoot up ten feet tall and swallow up the whole room. Trying to touch something outside of himself that’s real. Something that reminds him he, himself, is real. Eugene understands the feeling. Seeing it reflected back on the face of another patches over that deep dark hole in his chest that started expanding ever since he first fired his first 60mm mortar.

I’m projecting, he thinks. But the feeling persists. He hears a baby cry next door and falls asleep with a pillow crushing his head into the mattress. He thinks about John’s smile and makes everything else go away.

It takes two weeks for them to meet again.

Eugene spends the days in between loitering around Central Park. He gets up every morning, with a birding manual he picked up at the library and notes every new species he finds in his small moleskin notebook. At first it isn’t about avoidance. Not for that first day at least.

On the first day he writes names down. Mourning Dove. Song Sparrow. Northern Cardinal. Blackpoll Warbler. The thought that he used to hunt these types of creatures for sport fills him with unease, a probing guilt he can’t shake even as their beauty overwhelms him. He thinks again of Four Quartets.

“Here is a place of disaffection.”

He thinks of finding an empty tent, his book of poetry left behind. Sid had thrown it away. Thrown it all away. He remembers how Sid’s friend had ribbed him for carrying a Bible. He remembers asking the man, Lucky maybe, what he believed in.

“I believe in ammunition.”

Two and a half years later the words still stick with him. Lucky, Leckie, had been shipped off at Pelelieu. Was home now, last he heard from Sid. Probably didn’t remember Eugene at all. And yet the words stuck with him through two campaigns, through three countries. Two continents. The truth of them.

Somewhere when the days melted into weeks and he stopped caring about eating with dirty hands. Somewhere around there the law of survival had become his new God. And the law of survival demanded sacrifice at its altar. It demanded violence from its people, it demanded priests of ammunition.

All these beautiful birds, all these fine feathered things. And here he was lumbering amongst them out of sight, a creature of violence. A thing that is tied in horrible knots between two wavering faiths. A thing who hates himself for it.

Here is a place of disaffection. Here.

He has killed birds and now loves them, eats besides a Mourning Dove, tossing it little pieces of sourdough. Thinks. I have loved man and I killed him too. And I enjoyed it.

John flew a plane. That he knows. It’s not the same. Killing from afar and not knowing. Different from watching the life leave another’s eyes. And wanting more. Feeling that deep wrath take hold of you. John, for all his great size and large smile and air of danger is just like the rest of them, the doves that fly about his head heedless to the fact that they are in the company of a hunter. That he could snap their neck in an instant. With complete and utter disregard for their right to life. It’s better for everybody if he stays away. That way he won’t get hurt. Eugene lies down amongst the sound of birdsong, and rustling leaves.

And so; for the next two weeks, he dedicates himself to the careful art of avoidance.

————————————————————

John is admittedly very, very drunk. He didn’t mean to be. It just happened. The night had started at the pictures. But he started to itch. Needed to get out. Halfway through Gene Tierney crying to the ghost of a dead Sea Captain he was legging it to the bar. It had been two weeks since he had seen Eugene. He had tried to find him, but the kid was damned slippery. Like a cat burglar. Turned sideways and just disappeared into the shadows. Couldn’t spot him at Church or at the Grocer’s or even on the block outside their buildings.

As shameful as it was to admit. John didn’t have many people to talk to these days. Not any who would want to talk to him. Gale had promised him. In the Stalag. That he would be worth knowing. That someone would think he was worth knowing, the version of himself he had deteriorated into. But that was a lie. A sick of a lie as any Buck had told him. No one wanted to know the new John. Not even John himself. If he could run out of himself into the street. Find a new face a new set of skin to step into. Someone, anyone else. But he was trapped.

And then came the disgust. Self-pity was the recourse of the cowardly. It wasn’t for soldiers. It wasn’t for men who had led others into battle and survived to tell the tale. His father never acted with self-pity. No, he got up and he shut his trap and he went to work twelve hours a day without a singular complaint. He would feel sick if he could see John now. His father’s cross around his neck burns.

Instead of self-pity John got too drunk and lost his money at dice and took the long way home, down darkened alleys. Hoping for something. Maybe. Hoping for a chance to feel someone else’s skin beneath his own.

And then he heard it. Soft noise, the sound of someone speaking. A southern drawl. He picked up his pace. Something inside him recognized the voice even from blocks away. Little cat burglar wasn’t gonna slip through his fingers this time.

He rounded the corner and had to stop for a second. Eugene was there, pushed up against the wall, broken glass bottle to his neck. His lip was bloody and so was his eye. But he looked completely calm. Soft brown eyes had become a cold, dead black. Their gaze met above the assailant’s head. John could hear the man as if through water, “Fucking faggot—“

And then John was leaping forward. Grabbing the man by the back of his collar and slamming him into the ground. The action came so naturally he barely even registered he was doing it at all. He looked up, trying to assess the damage. To see how bad Eugene was hurt. But Gene wasn’t looking at him. Instead he was stepping forward, slowly. And leaning down into the shitty little punk’s face. And then he was hitting him. With those cold dead eyes not looking at anything not wanting anything in particular. Like a walking ghost he hit the man without feeling, again and again. Until a tooth came loose and hit Eugene in the face. And then John was grabbing him instead, holding his bony spine steady against his chest, wrapping his arms around his stomach as Eugene struggled to get free. Shouting out in rage, battling against him. If John were any shorter, he would have been forced to let go. Instead he held on for dear life. He held on as the robber ran out of the alleyway. As Eugene finally realized where he was and went limp. As he collapsed and took John with him. As John sat there in complete darkness, until he felt brave enough to raise a hand and drag it through Eugene’s hair, like he might have for his little sister.

Like a damn bursting Eugene began to cry. John let him have his privacy. Was going to. But then Eugene grabbed onto him. And it had been so long since anyone wanted to hold him, since a person had touched him with anything but violence in mind, that he found himself grabbing back. Pulling Eugene into his lap and running his hand again through dark red hair.

He didn’t have anything to say. He was never good at comforting people. His mother would say it was one of his worst habits. Instead of speaking they sat there and he imagined the swing outside his childhood home to pass the time.

How he would sit there waiting for his father every day after work. Time passed slow back then. There was the worry of course that if John didn’t wait then his dad wouldn’t come home at all. But it was an easy worry. The worry any child might have. And for a while there his dad did come home every day. And the relief of it all, of not being left behind, left him smiling for hours. The two of them would swing back and forth, back and forth, watching the cows in the distance. Not speaking.

Time passed slow then. But now everything seemed to last forever. The good and the bad.

Eugene pulled away from him, hand over his face. John recognized the emotion. The shame over crying in front of a stranger was hitting him fast. He didn’t want to see Gene ashamed. Drunk and dizzy and quick he stood up and grabbed Gene with him.

“Listen, kid. I ain’t gonna make it home alone. Probably fuckin’ brain myself. Be obliged if you could, you know, help a fella out.”

Eugene dragged a bloody hand across his nose and eyes and then grew a bit colder again. Wasn’t a cruel cold feeling though. Not like before. More like the feeling of cool water from Lake Erie. Soothing. Sure of itself. Still water that you could wade in up to your waist without fear of being dragged into a riptide. Lake Erie was always John’s favorite.

“Alright.”

————————————————————

He didn’t know how he did it. But he’d got Eugene back up to his apartment. Drunken giddiness was coursing through him. He could see the kid sat on the rotting wood, next to John’s camping cot and pile of blankets, flipping through his copy of Maltese Falcon. John grabbed a passably clean glass and filled it with water.

He looked at home. If you could call a place like this a home. A cave seemed more accurate.

“You like detective stories?”

John sat the glass in front of him. Sat himself crisscross so they could really get a look at each other. Gene’s hands were bruising but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eye was swelling.

“What can I say? I’m a man of taste.”

After a silence he forced himself not to break Eugene answered.

“Thank you. I…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t seem like he had anything to be sorry for. Not really.

“Don’t be. No harm in fighting back when someone’s robbing you—“

“He wasn’t—“

“Wasn’t what?”

Eugene looked frustrated.

“He wasn’t robbing me.”

It took a second, watching the blush rise up on Eugene’s neck, to realize what he meant. Oh. Oh shit. He had thought or hoped maybe, that they were of the same sort. But not in any real way. His type were few and far between. And he was pretty shit at finding them. And none of them had ever…and then he realized what Eugene was implying.

“He. Was he hurting you?”

————————————————————

Eugene felt small, sitting on the floor, worn paperback in his hands. John was pacing, reeking of whiskey and lavender scented aftershave and cement. He had just wanted to go to a place where he could….just without worrying about being judged for it. He liked going to the queer bars. It was one of the few times he felt truly honest and at home inside his own skin. He’d gone outside for a smoke, trying to avoid this ginger asshole who kept trying to chat him up. Except that hadn’t worked out very well. Instead he ended up pinned to the wall by that same prick, screaming in his face when he wouldn’t bend over and give in like he wanted him to. He was a goddamn Marine. He wasn’t gonna let himself go down without a fight. He would have had the guy too. He knows he would have. Could have killed him if John hadn’t turned up.

John runs his hand through his hair and sits down again across from him. He grabs Eugene’s wrist, softly. It reminds him of being back in between those large wooden church doors. The touch this time is so soft he doesn’t even think to flinch.

“Are you okay?”

The fear. Being alone in an apartment with someone so much better than you in every conceivable way. Someone so beautiful. Someone you could tell should hate you for your very nature. John was a ladies man. Even if they had maybe sort of flirted one time a few weeks ago. Or he looked like one. But he didn’t seem disgusted with Eugene. He held his wrist gently. Wasn’t afraid to touch him.

“You…I don’t.”

It was hard to put into words. John shuffled closer, put his fingers to Eugene’s eye. All the air in his chest choked out. He couldn’t breathe. That line from Four Quartets. At the center point of the turning world.

“I should get you ice but I don’t have any.”

“You’re not disgusted by me?”

Eugene placed his hand above John’s wrist, lightly. He couldn’t help himself. Now they were connected. Wrist to eye to wrist and back again. Knees touching.

“It would be pretty hard to be disgusted by you when I’m the same way.”

Men like John… they weren’t like him. He didn’t get to be lucky like this.

“I’m okay.”

John didn’t believe him. That was obvious. He fussed over him the rest of the night like a mother hen. Tucked extra blankets around him and kept forcing glasses of tepid water in his hands. Cleaned off his split lip with a damp rag. Eugene had to physically hold himself back at that. Just because they were both homosexual didn’t mean John would want someone like him, anyways. He didn’t try to but he ended up falling asleep on John’s shoulder. Listening to the man read from the Maltese Falcon.

“He said: "I'm going to send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means you'll be out again in twenty years. You're an angel. I'll wait for you." He cleared his throat. "If they hang you I'll always remember you….”

Words like ammunition and survival seemed so far away when you were warm, and comfortable, and you could feel another person’s stubble on your cheek scratching, the ever lively traffic outside a calming white noise.

[beautifulblooms]

Fighting Together to the End - Eddie Munson x Male!Reader - Part 5

Male! Reader, still just a rewrite of season 4 to help me cope with the pain of Volume 2, this is pretty much fluff and banter, enjoy lmao

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

After a few minutes of recovery time Nancy explained how she had guns hidden in her house. It would be a long walk there but it was worth it to get any supplies. After about an hour we had made it to the Wheeler’s house, but it surely wasn’t the same. Gross vines connected to the hive mind of Vecna we’re covering everything, the door, walls, the floor and even the stairs. And somehow even more strange when we got up to Nancy’s room, things that were supposed to be there were missing. Like the whole reason we came here, the guns that were supposedly in her closet were no longer there.

“Are you sure they were there Wheeler?” Eddie chirps at her, slightly annoyed we all had wasted time walking here.

“Yes, there’s a 6-year-old in the house I know where I keep my guns.” She was pissed but tried to keep it together and search through the rest of her closet.

“Hey, Nance?” I had started to look around her room to see if I could find anything, and came across a diary.

“What?” Turning around she looked at me while I held her diary, well old diary in my hands.

“The last entry in here is from November 6, three years ago. Did you just stop writing or something?” I looked back over at her with a confused look on my face.

“What? No, I've been writing every day, the last entry should be from a few days ago.” Everyone started to walk closer to me and Nancy grabbed the diary. “It really is only this one. What happened November 6th, 1983?”

We all sat in a moment of confusion and thought trying to remember what would’ve been happening around that time

“My first time smoking with Eddie?” I shrugged my shoulders just throwing ideas out there.

“No, I don’t think it would be that babe.” The man in question looked at me with a dopey smile.

“Wait, isn’t that when Will went missing?” Steve finally started to piece his internal timeline together.

“Yes! That’s the day he disappeared, so when Will disappeared things stopped updating and changing down here.” Putting the old diary down Nancy turned to look at Steve while she talked.

“So we’re stuck in Hawkins circa November 6th 1983?” Robin asked, trying to get clarification.

“Yes, which means we need to find different weapons because I didn’t get my guns until after the Demogorgon. Shit.” Nancy now seemed pissed that we really had gotten all the way here for nothing.

Trying to find other things to defend ourselves we wandered back downstairs and around the main floor of the Wheeler house. The kitchen still has knives and some other stuff but we were all hoping for a little more firepower. Then all of a sudden Steve started screaming for Dustin of all people.

“Henderson?!? Henderson, where are you buddy?!” Collectively we all looked at him like he was insane.

“Steve, why are you yelling Dustin’s name?” I asked after he screamed another couple times.

“I heard him! He’s somewhere here, in the walls maybe. Dustin!! C’mon Henderson talk to me!”

To be completely honest I had lost hope in his sanity, maybe the demon bats had some venom that was destroying his brain. Then I saw it, the light fixture in the kitchen was glowing. Not like it was turned on but like there were particles of light surrounding it.

“Hey, everyone not going crazy, can you come over here?” And soon enough everyone, even Steve, had wandered over towards me in the Kitchen. “I’m not tripping right? You guys see this too?”

“Yeah, we see it, and I’m pretty sure I’m sober.” Even in the worst place Eddie still managed to crack jokes. I smiled gently at him before noticing Robin try to investigate the lights more. She had reached her hand into the particles and giggled.

“It kinda tickles, heh.” We all began reaching our hands into the light to see how it felt. Without realizing it at first we soon heard talking from somewhere around us.

“Wait, that’s Dustin, Steve I don’t think you’re going crazy anymore.” Robin spoke up while pulling her hand back.

“Go to Nancy’s room!”

The only thing we could assume was that Dustin was trying to find a way to communicate with us. So without knowing what else to do we wandered back upstairs again and stood around until we saw something light up on Nancy’s bed. It was a litebrite, where the fuck did they find one of those so quick.

“We’re pulling the plug! Standby!”

There was now just a cloud of the fuzzy light particles floating where the litebrite had been. Touching it Nancy began to write out a message, well I don’t know if the word “hi” counts as a message but she wrote it in the cloud. We heard cheering from the other side.

“Why can’t you get back?”

Well shit how do we explain that the portal is being protected by a swarm of bat things that nearly killed Steve. Quickly thinking something Nancy wrote out the word “guarded”, which confused everyone on the other side.

“There’s a gate at every murder site!”

“What does he mean?” Steve was really confused now.

“I don’t know, the kid’s insane.” Eddie mentioned and we all kinda agreed silently. Not knowing what to say back Nancy put a question mark.

“How many times do I have to be right on the money and you guys don’t listen to me?!”

Dustin’s attitude was something nothing of us needed to hear.

“That kid really needs to get his ego in check.” Steve muttered

“It’s his tone right?” Next to me Eddie looked over at Steve and they nodded in agreement.

“You need to get to a portal where someone was killed by Vecna!”

“Wait, if there’s a portal where everyone was killed, that means there’s one back home, back at Eddie’s trailer.” I pieced together what I could with the little understanding I had of this whole situation. Nancy spelled out “Trailer” to the other group and now we just needed a way to get there.

“Don’t the younger ones have bikes everywhere?” I glanced over at Nancy to see her reaction.

“Garage, there’s enough for us, well, someone will need to double up.” She looked over at me to see what I was thinking.

“Well me and this handsome man here and ride together, can’t we babe?” Eddie’s words made me look at him and smile, giving him confirmation.

We made it to the garage and picked a bike each, well, Eddie picked a bike and I hopped on the bar sticking out of the back wheel while holding onto his shoulders.

“Ride as fast as you can rockstar, I wanna get home soon.” Leaning over his side I gave his cheek a peck before leaning back up.

“I better get a reward when we’re done with this.” Smiling at him I leaned back over.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be the best reward you’ve ever gotten, big boy.”

[lucan-multiverse]

cosmic sidestep - their multiverse p4a (m/i sidebar)

[Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4]

The captain stalks the narrow length of his quarters on the Berlin with thoughts that should be focused solely on the war effort but instead seem to be filled with a particular shade of green and hands that hold too much strength to be completely human.

He’s done all this once before… and it hadn’t ended well. He reminds himself of this as he passes the holo, face down in the trash, his finger hovering over the call button at his desk.

But this is different. He’s been offered a glimpse into another life. Another future, one that is there for the taking if he only chooses to reach out and take it.

And Isaac, the everlasting bulwark, decides it’s time to move.

--

Mason leaves the Marines training when the call comes. He doesn’t need to be there but the hour is late into the Berlin’s night cycle and only a small contingent of the crew is awake. The marines are an exception. They’re pent up, getting lazy from too much time stuck within the Berlin’s walls and not enough time on the battle front. Mason can somewhat relate but his body doesn’t run in optimal specs since the tear away from the people that made him. Oh, he’s still a phoenix. But there’s parts of him that feel far too human these days.

He takes the short set of stairs that lead up to the Captain’s personal quarters, pausing outside the door as he waits for the sensors to detect him and allow him entry. The doors slide open with a quiet hiss and the room is surprisingly dark and empty as he steps inside.

His brow furrows and if it wasn’t for the subtle feedback of another heartbeat, Mason would think the space is empty.

“Captain?”

Isaac steps out of the shadows then, uniform discarded save for his pants unbuttoned and riding low on his hips. His hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly, or perhaps had been trying to yank it out in frustration. His dark eyes are intense, almost tortured, and Mason wonders with alarm if the pressure of the war has gotten to him and the Captain had finally cracked.

“Zac,” he says, this time with something concerned in his tone. No time for rank now. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Isaac doesn’t answer straight away, instead turning to face the viewport that stares into space. Far in the distance, Mason can see the tear, pulsing in the cold black like a heartbeat. It still sets his hairs on end and alarm clamoring in the distant part of his mind. It’s not danger, he’s long realized. It’s an urgency. Like it’s calling to him, telling him to move.

He wonders if anyone else can feel it too.

“Do you ever wonder if things were different?" Isaac starts, before turning. He leans against the bulkhead, his Alliance dog tags catching the low light if the cabin where they rest against a softly furry chest Mason can't look away from. "If you weren’t-“ Isaac gestures vaguely in Mason’s direction and Mason can’t help but quirk his lips at the very un-captain like gesture Isaac gives him. He enjoys Isaac like this. Loose. Almost vulnerable. Real. Those dark eyes set over his strong aquiline nose and the hints of grey hair at his temples. He had always been a striking man in uniform, straight backed and strong, unshakable in command.

But like this… like this, Mason thinks he’s beautiful.

The thought catches Mason by surprise. Until now, he hasn’t allowed himself to think of Isaac this way. His commanding officer, phoenix or not, captain of the ship that is the closest thing Mason has left to a home. The lines between them should be drawn very clearly in the sand. They were confidants, maybe friends, but anything more Mason told himself he needed to stash away and ignore.

 “You’ve been talking to Luc,” he says instead, trying to put a break on the way every sense of his enhanced body suddenly wants to lean in Isaac's direction.

And Isaac, despite the unruly state of his hair, his half-undressed state, gives him a measured look that is every inch a captain. “So have you.”

“Guilty,” Mason says on a shrug, not bothering to shy away from it. “A lot of what he says is….” Mason trails off and thinks for a moment. “Insane,” he finally finishes.

Isaac looks away. “Hopeful,” he says quietly. “Agonizing.”

Mason agrees with that. Somewhere, in another world, he doesn’t get snatched by Cerberus. Somewhere in another world, he joins the Alliance and meets Isaac and they fall in love and raise a family-

Mason’s carefully constructed façade cracks in the face of it. His face twists as his human heart swells and beats in a tempo strong enough it makes his breath almost catch.

Agonizing, Isaac had said. He wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah,” Mason agrees softly. He studies the man across from him, finally allowing himself to admit he wants it. He wants Isaac. Really wants him. Every part of him.

Mason wasn’t a vanguard, but he was done with this in-between. They could deny it all they wanted but Luc’s arrival into their world and the revelations about alternate versions of themselves that accompanied him was only hastening the steps of the dance they were already doing around each other.

"Do you feel it too?" he asks, stepping closer to Isaac, his chest full with yearning and his hands itching to touch. "Or am I alone in this?"

[rosaren2498]

EDIT: THIS TURNED OUT SO MUCH LONGER THAN I INTENDED; I'M SO SORRY

I think... it's time. Ever since I saw the show, questions have plagued me. And I guess I just need to get them out. This is going to be an absolute mess but it's really just me trying to get my thoughts out. It mostly covers Hob, Morpheus, and The Corinthian because I have the most questions regarding them. I'd also like to preface this with the fact that I've only seen the show.

So, let's start with Hob and Immortality. How the actual fuck does his immortality work??? Hob says they tried drowning him as a witch and it makes me wonder. Does he just... drown, die, wake up, repeat? Or is he just stuck underwater, water in his lungs but no relief to be found unless he passes out? Can he pass out from lack of oxygen? Does he even need oxygen anymore? He still needs to eat, and feels hunger still, so it's likely he still needs to breathe, but that implies that basically, he spent who knows how long just drowning over and over like Stefan did in The Vampire Diaries, which is horrifying to think about. Fanon claims he can technically die, but that his soul doesn't leave his body seeing as Death won't take him, that it's more like falling unconscious and just waking up when his body is healed enough.

In the same vein, he cannot die, but Dream tells him he can be hurt. So... does he heal, then? If he gets a cut on the palm of his hand, does he have regenerative capabilities? And if yes, what is the extent of them? He can't actually die so could he, theoretically, survive without a head? Is he like Deadpool? Deadpool's regenerative capabilities are so advanced that he was once disintegrated and he healed from it. He's been ripped in half, and had his head removed and all that happens is he passes out for a bit and then wakes up, fully capable of moving and reattaching limbs (like his entire waist and legs in the video game, even reattatches them incorrectly aka backwards) Can Hob do that????? What is the fucking limit to his immortality? Is there a technical limit? Or is he, functionally, Deadpool? I really need to know because we see what the AoP (Amulet of Protection) can do so... Hob can't die so what would happen if the AoP was used on him????? Would he be rendered a smear of blood and muscles and other stuff, only to slowly be pieced back together? Would his entire body just... reform, leaving a mess behind???

In the same vein, but now moving to Morpheus. Fanon claims that he can only be hurt if it's what he wants (ie love bites, hickeys, bruises left on hips or thighs etc), and while I have no idea if that's true in Canon, because the show doesn't fucking talk about it (no show or movie ever goes into details about stuff like that and it never fails to drive me up a wall), we'll take it anyways because I have questions about that. And we'll use the scene Cori stabs him as a basis, though removing Rose from the equation, leaving Morpheus at full power.

If he cannot be hurt unless he wants it, then what would've happened when Cori tried to stab him? I've got 3 different ideas about it.

1. Cori tries to stab him and his skin is hard like a twilight vampire, so the knife either bends, or shatters (which admittedly would be kind of funny)

2. Cori tries to stab him and his skin opens, but there is no blood, nor any pain, and the 'wound' reseals almost immediately

Or the one I think is most likely:

3. Cori tries to stab him but the skin refuses to bruise or break. Like poking someone, the skin pushes in, it indents briefly, but it doesn't break, doesn't split open, doesn't even fucking bruise (because he won't bruise unless it's what he wants). I just imagine Cori trying to stab or cut him and its like using a plastic blade lol

On a slightly different topic, to take a break from things driving me crazy and turning to something I'm merely idly curious about... Morpheus gets big in episode 5. He holds John in his fucking palm and he's about the height of a quarter maybe a half dollar, and Morpheus is huge (not as big as Arishem in Eternals, but still!) Is that as big as he can get? Is there a limit to his ability to change size in The Dreaming? Obviously in the Waking World, there are limits to his capabilities, especially because he has to pass as human, but in The Dreaming? The imagination is the limit so, theoretically, could he get as big as Arishem?

Onto my questions regarding Dreams and Nightmares. Seeing as The Corinthian is the one we get to see the most, I will be using him in my examples.

First and foremost, he screams when the AoP destroys him. Is that actual pain he's feeling, or is it just a mental thing? He thinks it should hurt and so it feels like it does, but really it doesn't, kind of thing? Second... okay so the AoP is used on Cori. We get to, sorta, see his insides as he gets destroyed, and then again as he reforms in The Dreaming. What is he made of and what exactly is his anatomy??? Right before the flesh (???) reforms, there is what appears to be some kind of metallic structure vaguely reminiscent of bone that reforms, most clearly seen as his outstretched hand reforms, and something else underneath it, like he's made of 3 layers. It's really intriguing. Does he have organs beyond his mouths? Also, Fanon likes to claim his ocular mouths have tiny tongues (which is cute af) and I need to know if that's Canon immediately.

Furthermore, does he breathe?? Morpheus gets trapped in a sphere (I feel like fishbowl is too rude, like it's taking how fucking serious and traumatic that was for him and just... 'ooh funny' so I refuse to call it that) made of glass and iron for over a century and according to Google, the average amount of time for air to run out in a sealed area is 12 days. Less than 2 weeks. He spent more than a century just... not breathing because after 12 days THERE WAS NO AIR.

Which implies that he either A, doesn't need to breathe at all and does so out of convenience (you need air to speak, Burgess you fucking dumbass) and maybe habit or B, because he cannot die, he feels the need to breathe but it just... won't kill him. Which means he spent over a century with all the terrible symptoms that a lack of air provides, including a constant burning in his lungs and his head feeling like it was going to explode...

But all that to say, does that mean Cori doesn't need to breathe? Does he even have lungs??? WHAT IS HIS ANATOMY??? HE CLEARLY HAS A DICK SINCE HE USES IT THROUGHOUT THE SHOW! What else has he got??? I just... I want concept art or something similar that shows his insides and what he's made of, as creepy as that probably sounds. I need to know how human he is on the inside. My morbid curiosity will not be satisfied without these answers man. Also, random side note: why tf is his hair platinum blonde when he enters Burgess' manor?? When Morpheus confronted him before, it wasn't platinum, and at no other point is it platinum blonde. Why just THAT scene? It always vaguely irritates me because it's weird.

Also... what, exactly, is The Darkness? Because if it's what I think it is, that is the cruelest thing Morpheus could fucking do. It sounds like it's a fucking void where your consciousness sits, no body, just you and your thoughts, alone, no ability to see, or speak, or breathe, or touch, or fucking feel anything and... God I'm about to go into a fucking panic attack just THINKING about it, wtf Morpheus! Just pitch black NOTHINGNESS, more of an absence of everything than anything else, the goddamn VOID.

Back to Hob though, is he the kind of guy who will eagerly tell you about all the ways people have tried to kill him, completely casually, maybe even laughing at some of them no matter how bad they are, or does some of his almost-deaths haunt him? Does he have an uncontrollable fear of bodies of water because they tried to drown him??? Does he have PTSD and recurring nightmares from all the War he's seen, or does his immortality render his brain incapable of 'breaking' under pressure? Orrrrr has his brain 'broken' multiple times from all of it, but because he's immortal, he always comes back from it?

I ALMOST FORGOT!

Morpheus tells Rose that he 'failed in his duty, an entire universe was lost' uh... wtf does that mean? This is at least the 2nd Universe the Endless have been in and I want to know if they just... went to another one once their previous one died (which, Death says something about shutting the door behind her when she leaves so maybe???) or if they pulled a Futurama and just waited for another universe to form around them. You know, that episode of Futurama where Fry finally gets a date with Leela, but the Professor built a time machine THAT ONLY MOVES FORWARD IN TIME and Fry doesn't have much of a choice and gets dragged along and they fuck up and end up going through 3 different universes before they finally stop moving forward in time and Fry just barely makes his date. Is it like that???

Also, Morpheus says he holds 'the entire collective unconscious'... is that just Earth, or the entire Universe? He doesn't say human unconscious, partly because we know most animals on earth can dream and so he holds their collective unconscious as well, but is it the ENTIRE UNIVERSE? Because the human population on Earth alone is 7.837 billion. That isn't including ANY of the animals that can dream. It's no wonder he has such strict and rigid rules! That's a LOT OF PEOPLE AND THAT'S JUST HUMANS! Even if you say there are only 5 total planets in the INFINITE universe with beings capable of dreaming, one is ours, and the other 4 only have half our population, that is still 23.511 billion beings (including our 7.837 billion) that he holds the collective unconscious and STILL doesn't include our animals or any potential animals on the other planets. That's just 5 planets. The universe is fucking INFINITE

[sugarplanet]

Instantly Overcome Hating Your Art and Stop Wasting Your Time In 3 Easy Steps

Throughout the fall, I've hit the proverbial reset button a few times hoping to start with a clean slate or the right foot in progressing my career and just being better at art. Still, it's easy to hit a plateau when you get wrapped up into one thing and neglect your portfolio, your idea moleskin, or your twitter (though I don't really want much to do with that last one these days). Despite the tone of this post so far, I can at least tell you that it's much better now than it was three or four years ago. One time, I'd stopped posting or drawing or speaking to people an entire year and it did no favors to my self-esteem or my muscle memory. Now, when I smack face first into a wall or feel like nothing I do is ever good enough, I have tools to react, retract, and reflect before I do something harmful, like impulsively ghost everyone or stop going to work. Here's some directions to get back on track:

1: Stop

If you find yourself saying mean things about your own art or feel like you're about to throw your painting against the wall or see something so beautiful on social media immediately followed by a train of people who have tons in milage/talent/popularity on you then you're going to have to press the pause button. Immediately stop whatever you're doing and take a deep breath. You'll have to build some serious discipline to do it but it's an invaluable skill to be able to cut off intrusive or harmful thoughts before they can stew and fog your brain any further. Go take a break and come back to your craft or task and after you've given energy to something else for a little while, you'll find you have more energy than before.

2: Turn Around

I find it a huge help to go over the basics (a lot) as a refresher regularly as when you take on something really complex you can get easily overwhelmed if your skill or tolerance for perspective and doing lineart by hand isn't seasoned enough. This is where going through the fundamentals or at least better researching your topic can help you troubleshoot the WHY and WHAT going on. If you're trying to draw a landscape from your imagination or with other art as a reference, you're going to need to do some thumbnails. If you need tigers or rhinos, go do some tracing and then some studies. If you can, try working on a different medium than what you were working with before; that bit of separation is going to help keep you from burning out again too fast and create some interest as well ("oooh color pencils, how exciting!") BONUS: Avoid doom scrolling through other artists! You'll want to save observation purely for intentional style studies rather than get stuck in the trap of comparing yourself to everyone.

3: Go Back

You'll have to go back at some point, especially if it's for your day job or for a client... But before you do, make sure you can check these off: > Feel better emotionally > More energized/inspired to take this on > Have a viable solution to my problem > Am proud of self and my work and don't think I suck If you can, great! Take it from the top. If not, maybe you need a little more rest (if you're still struggling emotionally) or maybe you need some more practice (if you're not satisfied with your solution yet). Repeating this process enough times will also help you bounce back from break-downs, burnouts, and blocks a lot quicker. I promise; if I can sit here and write this long, then you can absolutely make great things happen for yourself. :)