#tag list part 2

[wolfjackle-creates]

Tag List Part 2 for Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be my last time doing individual tags for this fic. Please check out the post if you still want to receive notifications for this story.

@bianca-hooks123 @andromedaj2003 @smokyquartz323 @satisfactionbroughtmeback @channajen @jaggedheart11 @basementloser @thiawenwriting @dehydratedmockingbird @snekullent @grey-lysander @d4ydr34min9 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @kyrianclawraith @joseph557 @never-stop-reading @icarusinstatic @writer-extraodinaire @sadpersonmadeoffruitpunch, @fandomwandererer @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @shadow-otaku20 @squirrel-wolf @sadpersonmadeoffruitpunch @meditating-cat @ark12 @shinylittlereblogs @ambiguouslyominous @kjoboo91 @serasvictoria02 @totallysmores-blog @aroranorth-west @blackrabbitt3t @pickleking8 @easily-broken-by-emotion @flamingenchiladadragon @nonbinary-disaster @little-waterboiler @markthespot68 @the-autistic-spider @amyheart19 @incrediblyaccuratespacefloof @red-wing-22

[emchant3d]

part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here

Eddie isn’t a good man.

Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.

He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.

He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.

And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?

And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.

He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.

He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.

He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.

Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–

He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.

He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.

He’s so, so tired of starting over. 

So he’s been trying to…delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.

Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.

It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.

Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.

Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.

Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.

Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.

This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.

Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.

This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.

He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve. 

For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.

His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.

He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.

He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.

He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.

But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.

No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things. 

He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.

He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.

Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.

He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.

“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that. 

He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.

And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.

He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.

“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.

“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”

“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.

“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.

Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.

Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.

“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”

“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?” 

Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”

“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.

They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up. 

He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.

“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said…I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and…” 

Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t…I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.

“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.

“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.

“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”

“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.

“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.

“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”

“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.

Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.

“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.

“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.

“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.

“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.” 

Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.

“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.

“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.

“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything. 

Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.

They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck. 

“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?” 

Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.

“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.

“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s. 

Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.

They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.

And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.

[flowercrowngods]

something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind. 

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually. 

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch. 

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. 

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset. 

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up. 

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?” 

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him. 

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now. 

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom. 

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now. 

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now. 

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic." 

No. 

"You know you are." 

Shut up. Go away. 

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way. 

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him. 

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always. 

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore. 

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck. 

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice. 

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

—— 

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes. 

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up. 

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes. 

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open. 

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched. 

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again. 

 “Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it. 

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers. 

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking. 

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening. 

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling. 

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?” 

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…” 

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already. 

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch. 

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently. 

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual. 

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness. 

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two. 

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move. 

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.” 

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either. 

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room. 

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next. 

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be. 

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons. 

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not. 

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room. 

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?" 

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods. 

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand. 

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?" 

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe. 

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand. 

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night. 

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation. 

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself. 

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay. 

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too. 

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough. 

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety. 

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?" 

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time. 

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?" 

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours. 

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

[justwannabecat]

It was quiet. That suited Danny just fine. After all, he had endured enough to realize that noise often meant something was about to happen. Nowadays the only times he heard something that wasn’t caused by himself was if Cujo came to visit. The first time it happened, Danny was afraid he would have to fight again, but all they did was play for a while. The second time he welcomed it, same with every time thereafter.

He had plenty of time to stargaze. Nobody really visited the Antarctic, so it was perfect for him. Cold, quiet, and with no light pollution, so he could see every single star in the night sky. He could see the Southern Lights as they dance through the air, he could trace the paths of the planets as Earth rotates.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to explore. He wanted to see all there was to see, get lost in the endless cosmos, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know if his human half would survive that long without food. He didn’t want to find out.

Besides, Jazz was here. She was still on Earth, and as much as Danny wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Not while she was still here. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to visit her, to see the disappointment that would no doubt be clear in her eyes, he couldn’t completely abandon her.

As with every time he thought about Jazz, he briefly considered visiting her, but decided against it. If she really wanted to find him she could use the Boo-merang. The fact that it hadn’t happened yet was enough proof that his presence was unneeded.

Besides, why would he leave? He has a sick tower made out of unmeltable ice! It’s been furnished with things that, admittedly, he may have stolen, but only things that would have been destroyed soon anyways! He doesn’t cause any of the disasters that endanger so many pieces of furniture, but he’ll take advantage of it! You can only sleep on hard ice so many times before you realize how nice beds really are.

The point is, he doesn’t leave unless he has to. And since he’s furnished the place, he hasn’t had to leave once. It’s been like a slice of heaven- No ghosts to fight, no hunters to hide from, no insane billionaires who can’t decide whether to kill him or adopt him…

Danny looked up at the night sky again. He could see Acrux twinkling brightly overhead.

It was quiet.

———————————————

“I’ve got bad news and worse news.” Constantine announced at the next League meeting. “Bad news, beings from the Infinite Realms are, from this point forward, unable to be summoned. Wouldn’t be too bad if we weren’t trying to make peace negotiations with them, but we are, so it’s not great.”

Batman remained visibly impassive, though anyone who knew him could tell just how unsettled that made him. “And the worse news?”

Constantine sighed. “So… Before they blocked themselves off, I spoke to one of them. The Guardian of Time. He told me that, due to his perception of all time, he knew we would lose. Luckily he doesn’t want humanity to die, but he told me that Phantom ghost has a medallion in his chest that makes him immune to his abilities. As such, our one hope of survival could be anywhere by now. The only things he could tell us were that he’s probably not far from Earth, because he still has living relatives.”

Superman straightened up. “That doesn’t sound like it’s worse news. We know Phantom is near Earth and that he’s got relatives here. Surely he would go back to them, right?”

“Well. I didn’t really get to that part yet.” Constantine shifted uncomfortably. “You have to swear to not tell anyone who doesn’t already know. This is like people learning your civilian identities. If you ever try to use it against them, hell, even insinuate that you’re gonna use it, then they will kill you, and they won’t face punishment from their court because it’s technically self defense. Understand?”

Everyone readily agreed. After a second, Constantine continued.

“Phantom is Danny Fenton. He’s what the Guardian of Time called a Halfa, half ghost and half human. His parents are the ghost hunters who started this whole thing.”

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[milf-harrington]

i just haven't met you (yet)

alright here's your bloody part two, jesus christ ♡

part one

----

The door unlocked with a series of clunking pops before Steve even registered the sound of boots on the porch.

The cabin was too deep in the woods to avoid regular visitors and the area was boobytrapped enough to discourage anyone else, but still, Hopper frowned disapprovingly at the back of El's head when the door swung open before he reached it.

"You're meant to wait until I knock."

She twisted around to see him over her shoulder, blood smudged under her nostril. "Why?"

The police chief sighed, closing the door behind him and re-engaging each lock by hand. A plastic bag dangled from his fingers.

"Because I could'a been anyone- someone dangerous."

"But you are not."

"But I could have been."

It was a conversation they had often, and this time Steve welcomed it, sinking further into the couch and hoping to avoid any possibility of Hop bringing up the walkie incident.

El had spotted the bag, climbing to her feet in a graceless un-piling of arms and legs.

Thanks to the combined efforts of both their appetites, the pizza cooling on the stove was the third of the night, but Steve knew she'd still be gorging herself on eggo's as soon as she got her hands on them. That girls stomach was an endless abyss, apparently.

Hopper didn't even get a chance to put the bag down before El was rummaging through it, and Steve huffed fondly.

Mistake.

Hopper's eyes flicked up to meet his, mustache twitching, and Steve groaned, leaning his head back against the couch and hiding his face in his hands.

"Can we just forget it happened?" He pleaded.

El, bright yellow boxes piled in one arm, looked between them. "Forget? Why are we forgetting?"

Before Steve could come up with a clever diversion, Hopper was already ruffling her hair and heading for the kitchen. "Your brother embarrassed himself on the radio earlier."

El blinked and tilted her head. "What did you do?"

Steve whined, mortification still simmering in his belly. "I asked if the guy Hop arrested was cute, and he heard it."

"Why is that embarrassing?"

"I wasn't arresting him."

Steve straightened up, ignoring El's question in favour of Hopper's reveal.

"You weren't?"

So, he hadn't called a criminal cute?

Hopper didn't look at him, preoccupied with lifting a slice of pizza free from the tray. "You know how those rich types are-"

Steve grimaced in agreement.

"- they think anyone who's not up to their standards is up to no good."

Something settled in Steve's stomach and he picked at the pizza crust under his nails.

He hadn't called a criminal cute.

"So why'd you take him to the station?"

Hopper grunted, mouth and plate full as he dropped it on the table. El remained in the kitchen, watching the toaster with her chin resting on the back of her hands.

"Protocol mainly. I got his statement about what he was doing in that area, then let him call his uncle to pick him up."

The toaster popped and the tv flickered when El startled. Steve cracked a smile.

"Look," Hopper sighed at the ceiling. "Munson is a pain in the ass, and I've hauled him in for possession more often than I'd like, but he's a good kid."

He shot Steve another grin as El settled beside him with her plate of waffles, and Steve got a bad feeling.

"Don't worry, though. I told him you're cute too."

El caught the pillow before it could knock over the salt shaker, freezing it in mid-air before letting it drop silently to the hardwood.

[matchingbatbites]

Love Grows - Part 1

This is my take on teen dad Steve! It was just supposed to be a ficlet, but the word count is currently hovering at 4k and I'm not done, so this will be going up in parts. <3

Ao3 | Part 2

February '85

The rumors have been flying for weeks. It only took one cheerleader to see Steve Harrington out and about with a baby and soon enough the news was all over the school. Nevermind that no one else has even seen said baby, but just the one accusation is enough to send the rumor mill into production.

It's something that had piqued Eddie's interest, but he quickly attributed it to teenagers spreading drama, a fiction created for their own entertainment. That is, until the day Harrington shows up to school with the baby.

The halls are buzzing, more so than usual, and it only takes until second period for Eddie to realize why. The entire class breaks into whispers when Steve walks in with a baby carrier in one hand, a piece of paper in the other, and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The paper goes to the teacher, who reads it before saying something to Steve, and Eddie is so curious but unable to hear anything over the chatter in the room.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve for the rest of the class. He watches as the carrier finds a home on the floor, right by Steve’s desk, and Eddie has a perfect view of the little, rosy-cheeked baby girl from his seat two rows behind Steve (at least, Eddie’s assuming it’s a girl. The blanket tucked around her is a soft pink, so-). He sees every time Steve leans over to check on her, sees how her big eyes flick up to look at him, how she smiles around the pacifier in her mouth. 

It makes Eddie go all gooey inside; he's always loved kids, always hoped to find a guy who is good with them, and seeing Harrington being so attentive only increases the low-key crush he has on the other guy (he knows it’s a little pathetic, but Steve is very attractive, and Eddie is very gay, sue him). When the class ends, Eddie gathers his stuff slowly so he has an excuse to hang back a little and watch Steve interact with the baby some more, but soon enough the younger is also packed up and out the door.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again until later that day, when he's skipping out on 5th period and hears a baby crying as he passes by a closed classroom door. He peeks in through the window and sees Harrington pacing slowly while holding the baby against his shoulder, one arm supporting her from the bottom as his free hand rubs circles into her back. 

For a moment Eddie thinks about walking on, about just leaving Steve alone as he comforts his wailing child, but the cries pull hard on Eddie's heartstrings and he finds himself opening the door and slipping inside.

"Everything okay?" he asks, and Steve looks up in surprise before his expression shifts into something unreadable. 

"Yeah, we're fine. She's just extra fussy because she's teething. I came in here because I don't want to disturb anyone else." 

Eddie hums and goes to the nearby diaper bag, starts digging through it and is surprised when Steve doesn't tell him to stop. He finds a little bottle of numbing gel and smears some onto his pinky before sliding it into the baby's still wailing mouth, and carefully rubs it over her gums as he coos at her. 

"I know, honey, it hurts so bad. It's gonna be okay, though, just you wait." 

He glances up to see Steve staring at him, his expression curious, and Eddie suddenly feels overexposed. 

"My last neighbor had two jobs and three small kids, so I have a little experience with babies," Eddie explains, needing to fill the sudden silence that falls as the baby calms. His finger is still in her mouth, and he feels no desire to remove it, especially once she starts gnawing on it gently. Steve glances down at his girl before giving Eddie a soft smile, and Eddie's heart flips in his chest. 

"That's more than I have, at least. Thanks." 

"No worries, man. What, uh- what's her name?"

"Rosemary," Steve says, humming when the baby makes a soft noise. "At least, that's what I'm changing it to, as soon as I'm able." 

The warmth that had settled in Eddie's stomach sours a little at Steve's declaration, and as he pulls his finger from the baby's mouth he can't help biting out "And her mom is okay with you changing her name?" 

The atmosphere in the room changes as Steve's face crumbles, and Eddie knows he's said something wrong. 

"Her mom didn't want anything to do with her," Steve replies softly, and oh no, Eddie instantly feels like a piece of shit. He'd heard the rumors that some girl had just dumped the baby on him, but he didn't think they were true. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean to assume anything." 

"It's okay. No one really knows about the whole… situation." 

There's an awkward pause before Eddie asks "So, Rosemary. Your choice wouldn't happen to be inspired by a certain Edison Lighthouse song, would it?" He smiles when Steve blushes, the pink dusting his face so sweetly as he shrugs. 

"It was my grandma's favorite song, and a lot of my happy memories are with her, so... I've already started calling her Rosie, so she'll be used to it." 

"It’s a good name," Eddie hums, rubbing his thumb over Rosie's tiny eyebrow. "She's a cute kid, Harrington."

Steve mutters a soft “Thanks,” and then there’s a brief pause before he asks "Do you- do you want to hold her?" and Eddie doesn't even hesitate before nodding and giving a quick “Yes!”

He takes off his jacket and vest in one go, knowing the fabric is a little rough, and takes the baby when Steve offers her to him. He holds her close, one hand supporting her and the other resting on her back, and starts to sway a little. "I haven't held a baby in like, two years. I forgot how calming it is." Steve hums and smiles as he sits on a nearby desk. “Yeah, it is.”

They spend the rest of the time just talking about whatever comes to mind, and it's really fucking nice. Eddie learns about the gaggle of kids Steve babysits ("They're all shitheads, but I love them, even when they're using me as a chauffeur.") and Eddie talks a little about his own friends, his band ("I mean being famous is the end goal, but it's also just fun to get together and be creative just for the sake of it, you know?") and before they know it, the bell is ringing to signal the end of the period. 

Steve frowns, a cute pout that tugs on the corners of his mouth, and Eddie has to bite back a smile at the expression. He sets a now sleeping Rosie back into her carrier before shrugging on his jacket and vest, and hesitates for a moment. 

"Listen, Harrington. I know that we don't really know each other, but I've seen firsthand how tough this single parent shit can be, so. If you ever need a hand, or need someone to watch her so you can get shit done, you can ask me, yeah? No worry, no judgment."

Steve blinks at him, big hazel eyes flicking between Eddie's like he's making an insight check against Eddie's words. He must like what he finds, because he smiles softly and says "Thanks, Munson."

And Eddie shrugs, and smiles in return. "Call me Eddie, man."

[dontcallmeeds]

Part 2 of Eddie Making Jewelry For Steve; Part 1 here / Part 3 here / Part 4 here

Steve had figured it out after the second little box that was left on the Family Video counter.

He didn’t see Eddie leave it, he was too involved in his conversation with Robin that happened to be about his panic surrounding Eddie.

See the thing is, he knew there were bisexual people and he knew he liked men for years.

But saying it outloud and falling for his best friend? Well, that was a whole other thing.

The way Steve figured it out was the handwriting on the little notes. It felt a little crazy comparing his Family Video card paperwork to the notes, but Robin was the one who suggested it.

Eddie looped his lowercase Es tightly, to the point they almost looked like Cs. And his Is were always lowercase with a circle instead of a dot.

It really just had to be him leaving the beautiful pieces that made Steve’s heart melt and his stomach fall out his ass. Although, he still had his doubts. There was no way his dream guy was just being that fucking perfect, that wasn’t usually how Steve’s life went.

But oh god did he sure have hope.

Steve thought he was being obvious that he knew, wearing the ring that he had fallen in love with in front of Eddie. He even fidgeted with it and caught Eddie staring at it before the other man quickly looked away.

He couldn’t help but tear up in the Beamer after the outing, asking Robin for advice only resulted in drunken living room karaoke, not a plan.

Steve tried to ask where he got his pieces once so maybe him and Robin could run surveillance like old times, but Eddie ended up being vague and elusive.

When Steve brought Nancy into the secret op, she suggested a stake out which felt like stalking. She started a board with dates and drop off locations and roughly estimated it was every 2-4 weeks on dates Steve was usually busy.

It was coming up on almost a month since the last drop and Steve was practically showing off with the last chain, making sure his polo was just open at top enough for Eddie to see.

The flushing across Eddie’s cheeks into his chest was everything, but still his metalhead said nothing.

It was time for Nancy’s plan.

Steve dropped days he’d be busy, watching as Eddie seemingly made a mental note of them. His feigned disappointment was shaky, Steve hoping he’d just blurt it out without confrontation.

But alas, nothing.

Nancy put on her ‘undercover journalism best’ aka a literally just a black sweater and black pants, borrowing her parents car instead of using her own. And I’m that moment Steve felt—

“Am I crazy? Is this whole thing crazy?” Steve paces the Family Video aisles between romance and comedy, which felt pretty fitting considering his love life was a joke.

Robin places a hand on his shoulder and gives him that all encompassing look between the fact that she thinks it’s completely sane, but also really fucking crazy.

“You want to know for sure, right? Not just the handwriting or little weird glances?”

Steve sighs and then nods slowly, he really did want to know for sure. But the problem is what came after.

“Okay then, we’ll just see what Nancy says then hmm? For all we know it could be a boring—“

As if on cue, the walkie they stole from the kids crackles.

“Steve—it’s for sure him, he just—“

“HE JUST WHAT?! WE NEED ANSWERS WHEELER,” Robin shouts into the speaker before Nancy can even finish, Steve grabs the walk-in out of her hand with a scoff.

“Say sorry to your eardrums for her Nance— so wait, what happened?” Steve tries to shove down his nerves, but his fingers on the device tremble.

“He leave something in your mailbox, do you want me to—“

“Steve, GO!”

He really needs to teach her what an inside voice is.

“Are you—“

“I’ll cover you, if Keith comes back I’ll—I’ll make up a dead aunt or say you ripped your pants, I don’t know! I’m not good under pressure, you know how I get Steve. Goddamnit, just go before I start rambling!”

Steve nods and handing her the walkie, running out the door. He knows he breaks the speed limit on the way home, knows if he gets pulled over he can just use the Hopper card. He normally wouldn’t, but extreme times and all that.

Nancy is pulled into the drive when he gets there, popping out when she sees him pull up next to the mailbox.

“Hey I wanted to stay, for you know, support,” she says with a small smile, seeming to enjoy this all way too much.

“Nance, you didn’t have to—“

“Yes I did, Steve. Now fucking open it before me and Robs burst a blood vessel.”

Steve nervously chuckles, his fingers twitching on the mailbox door before pulling it down to a little red box.

‘Stevie, something different,’ is all it reads.

He shares a glance with Nancy, before pulling it out.

[esaari]

honk

[justasmisunderstoodasloki]

The emotions you feel, the crying, and the chills you get when listening to Hozier are inevitable

[brokenbackmountain]

South Asian Music Recs 2 fast 2 furious

India (pt 2)

Soulmate (genre: blues rock): formed in 2003, based in shillong. they mostly sing in english. i would recommend love you, voodoo woman, shillong (sier lapalang)

Indian Ocean (genre: multi. mostly jazz and rock and folk fusion): formed in 1990, based in delhi. they sing in multiple languages. i would recommend bagh aayore, shoonya, jaadu maaya

Moheener Ghoraguli (genre: multi; rock (folk and blues), jazz, baul, american folk): formed in 1975, based in kolkata. they sang in bengali. i would recommend ei shomoy amar shomoy, amar priyo caffe, sei phuler daal

chandrabindoo (genre: rock, multi): formed in 1998, based in kolkata. they sing in bengali. famous music composer pritam was a part of chandrabindoo! recommended: hridoy, geet gobindo, ami amar mone

Pakistan:

Junoon (genre: sufi rock): formed in 1990, based in lahore and nyc. multilingual. i would recommend: sayonee, yaar bina, azadi

Entity Paradigm (genre: rock): formed in 2000 (but they kept breaking up and rebanding every few years. also entity and paradigm used to be separate bands till they joined. yes this is the one with fawad khan. this is very mainstream. (<- girl saying this as if half the others are Not) anyway), based in lahore. they mostly sing in urdu afaik. recommended: hamesha, waqt, fitrat

Mekaal Hasan Band (genre: sufi rock, alternative rock): formed in 2001, based in lahore. they are multilingual, but mostly urdu afaik. recommended: raba, ranjha, ghunghat

noori: formed in 1996, based in lahore. multilingual. recommended: yariyaan, meray log, dil ki qasam

part 1

[averlym]

miracle elixir, mortality fixer (insp)

[wolfjackle-creates]

Tag List Part 2 for Ghost!Robin Part 10. Thank you all for your interest in this work!

@bianca-hooks123, @andromedaj2003, @smokyquartz323, @andsatisfactionbroughtmeback, @channajen, @jaggedheart11, @basementloser, @thiawenwriting, @dehydratedmockingbird, @snekullent, @grey-lysander, @d4ydr34min9, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @kyrianclawraith, @joseph557, @never-stop-reading, @icarusinstatic, @writer-extraodinaire, @sadpersonmadeoffruitpunch, @fandomwandererer, @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff, @shadow-otaku20, @squirrel-wolf, @sadpersonmadeoffruitpunch, @meditating-cat, @ark12, @shinylittlereblogs, @ambiguouslyominous

[casdeans-pie]

Falling (In Love)

Destiel Fanfiction 2,065 words Rated G

Tags: Aftermath Of A Case (we don't see the case, but we see what Situation Dean and Cas have ended up in because of it), Castiel Is A Fallen Angel, Dean Sees Cas's Wings, Near Death Experience, First Kiss.

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures even if those measures are jumping out of the window on the seventieth floor with nothing but hope and mangled fallen angel wings to keep you in the air. Probably not the best time for a kiss... or is it?

------Read on AO3------

---------

In terms of ‘situations where escape seems impossible’ Dean would probably rank this at a solid two. He’s not entirely sure what keeps it from being number one, since there are currently a group of eight witches blocking the only doored exit to the room, and the only other way out would be through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him – seventy stories up from the ground. Dean lost his gun a few floors back, and Cas’s angel blade was stolen by the witches, so they’re also weapon-less. But he figures that while the spell book that he and Cas just stole is still in his hands the witches won’t risk damaging it, so at least they can stall for time while he thinks of some way to get them both out with the book. He’s escaped with impossible odds against him all the time.

It just feels a little more impossible than usual.

Dean glances over at Cas, hoping to see some kind of glint in his eyes that means he’s got a plan. But he’s not looking at Dean. His eyebrows are drawn together in indecision and worry and he’s staring straight ahead with a vacant expression that means he’s deep in his thoughts.

Hope flares in Dean’s chest.

He’s learned enough from Cas’s expressions over the years to know that he’s got something up his sleeve. Something risky, but hell, Dean’s not picky about that right now.

The witches all take a pace forwards as a unit and Cas tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve to pull him back further towards the window, to keep their distance. Nothing but a desk separates them now.

The huge glass window is pressing cold and solid against their backs in a cruel reminder that freedom is a pane of glass away, but they’d never survive the fall.

“Just give us the book Winchester,” one of the witches snaps.

“Give us the book and we’ll let you both live,” another adds in a low, persuasive tone.

“Like hell you will,” Dean retorts with a snort, “you think I’m gonna trust a single damn thing that comes out of a witch’s mouth?”

A witch taller than the others takes another step closer to them both, her chin held high, and she examines her long, blood red nails as if bored by the whole situation. “Boys, boys, boys,” she says, with a shake of her head, “I grow tired of this. You’ve stolen my book, and I want it back. There is clearly nowhere for you to go, so I suggest that you hand it over, or I will regretfully have to kill you both and hope that my book survives.”

“This book contains angelic spells, and it belonged to the angels before it belonged to you. You’re the ones who stole it in the first place. You have no more claim to it than we do,” Cas says suddenly, his voice firm and full of defiance.

“Yeah, except Cas is an angel, so really, yknow, if it belongs to anyone it belongs to him,” Dean adds, tapping the front cover of the old book with his knuckles and scoping out the room again while he stalls for time, hoping to find any way out of this. Preferably without him and Cas becoming spell-practice for witches or bloody smears on the sidewalk below them.

The bold witch at the front laughs in a throaty cackle.

Dean smiles. “Wow, nice laugh you got there, Wicked Witch of the West, you about to tell me you’re gonna get me and my little dog too?”

“Mm, you are pretty I’ll give you that. But no, I’m just amused that you can call that an angel. I’ve been using those spells a long time, so I can see something of this… abomination’s true form, and trust me, Winchester, if you could see what I see you wouldn’t call it an angel.”

------Read the rest on AO3------

[n7punk]

She-ra (2018) Action Dolls: Design Details

In 2019, Mattel released a line of eight action dolls for the 2018 She-ra reboot. The line featured Adora, Glimmer, Bow, Catra, Shadow Weaver, and 3 versions of She-ra (there was also a Swift Wind model). There were more dolls planned that were canceled which I've covered in their own post.

For this post I've gathered official images and information about the dolls' design courtesy of the Instagrams of two of the designers: Darren Sander (known for work on Monster High, he designed this line's packaging and did work on She-ra and Swift Wind) and Annalise Lao (who worked on the BFS & Catra). It takes a lot of people to make even one doll for mass production (the SDCC exclusives were two years in the making, before the show even debuted!), but these are the only designers I've found talk about their personal involvement. I found a few more names to credit further in, though.

For data such as price and further stock/promotional shots (as well as the source of most of the ones in this post), see the line's page in the Dollect database.

Builds:

[Regular She-ra; Glimmer, Adora, Bow, & Catra; Battle Armor She-ra & Swift Wind. I'll cover the SDCC exclusives later in the post. Photos via Twitter.]

For the main four dolls (center image), the bodies are pre-existing sculpts, with the girls coming from the 2019 DC Super Hero Girls line and Bow coming from Monster High (generation 2). She-ra had a unique body sculpt. All of them had unique heads and clothing/accessories.

Glimmer's body is supposed to be a "curvier" sculpt compared to the other girls. Annalise says the foreshortening on the promotional pictures makes her look skinnier, but I will say that what counts as curvy when it comes to dolls is usually ridiculous. They tried with the options they had, at least.

Swift Wind was designed by Darren Sander and his wing artwork was done by Kristen Kress. His wings are supposed to flap when you move him up and down, and he has a plastic clip on his back to keep She-ra in place.

She-ra(s):

[Regular She-ra; SDCC-exclusive She-ra; Battle of Bright Moon She-ra - officially named "Battle Armor She-ra & Swift Wind." All stock photos.]

Regular She-ra: Her outfit is made of plain fabric with plastic accessories for the boots, gauntlets, chest emblem/pauldrons, and tiara (basically, anything gold). Her peplum skirt is unhemmed (on all her outfits) and is made from a sparkly tulle. Her cape is a one-sided fabric, but both sides look pretty much the same. The cape has no hemming either and is sewed directly onto her shoulders. It matches the shorter (more practical) length in the show. The plastic chest piece has overlapping straps and pegs in the back to hook it on.

SDCC Exclusive: The plain fabric of her uniform has been swapped out for a thin, rubbery pleather and her skirt "upgraded" to an iridescent fabric (the fabric feels stiff and way cheaper than the tulle, but was probably chosen for displaying well. It's one-sided). Her cape was redone, now much longer and made from a double-sided foil, still unhemmed. Her boots also have extra paint on their backs (details on that all the way down in the boots section). Otherwise her outfit is the same.

Battle Armor: Her torso and legs are cast in white to give the illusion of clothes. A plastic chest piece clips over the front of her, leaving her back exposed underneath her hair. She has no gauntlets, her forearms instead cast in gold to give the illusion that she is wearing some. Her boots are their usual cast, but they're solid gold with no painting. She has a one-sided reflective skirt, but its curving cut means it's shortest right in front and it often lets her articulation joints peek out. The chest piece was sculpted by Kittaya Wongchinda.

SDCC Exclusive:

[Display packaging in the upper left; both dolls in middle; compact storage box in upper right; closeups on bottom. All stock photos.]

These two dolls were the first part of the line revealed. She-ra's unique sculpt in the regular line originates here. She-ra is capable of standing on her own while Shadow Weaver requires a stand. Shadow Weaver has the same body as core line Adora and Catra, but this is the only set that includes a stand since it's supposed to be more deluxe.

Shadow Weaver: Her outfit is two layers, made from a long red dress with a turtle neck and an unhemmed, tendril-cut bottom edge. Over the top of it she wears a monastic scapular made from red foil and black fabric. She does not have any shoes. She has a black shadow accessory to hold with glitter suspended through it.

Her mask does not come off, but is cast as a separate piece and then glued tightly to her head to create the appropriate silhouette and depth. Her head is likely smooth underneath and she has small elf ears. Her hair is Polypropylene.

Packaging: The display packaging on the upper left folds in half (with velcro on the insides to keep it together while unfolded) to fit into the storage box in the upper right. The tops of the displays feature the same backdrop as the storage box with Shadow Weaver and She-ra's names written in the First Ones script to label each of them. The storage box has the show logo on two sides with Shadow Weaver and She-ra art opposite each other on the other two sides.

Models & Designers: We know Darren & Garrett Sander (fraternal twins, the latter also being the creator of Monster High) worked on the SDCC dolls, in addition to more unnamed creators, but we have some modeler names!

[Shadow Weaver's model with her accessory; She-ra's plastic chest emblem model; She-ra's body model, via Instagram. There are three more photos showing She-ra's accessories and sword through the link but I've hit the image limit.]

The dolls and their accessories were sculpted by Arpine Keurjikian, Kittaya Wongchinda, Adam DeFelice, and Sean Olmos (this is gonna shock you but they all worked on Monster High).

Regular She-ra vs. SDCC:

[SDCC exclusive on the left, regular on the right]

For the con exclusive, the Sword of Protection's blade has glitter suspended throughout it while the others are clear blue, but the cast is otherwise the same. I already compared outfits in the She-ra section, but the con version also has unique hair. Her hair is longer (10 inches vs. around 6 regularly) with some reflective strands (likely tinsel) threaded through it to make it shine. More side-by-side comparison photos of regular vs. con She-ra can be found on Darren Sander's Instagram.

Main Line:

Annalise and Garrett were both fans of the show (unknown for anyone else since I don't have their personal comments) and worked back and forth with Dreamworks on rounds of revisions for the dolls. The dolls had all major joints articulated (just missing ankles, and no torso/chest articulation). They have 11 joints, many of which can be moved in multiple directions. Some individual details:

Catra:

[Catra's screening; the rest are stock photos]

Catra's faceup is pretty much the first design Annalise tried, painting it directly onto the prototype early in the process. Her tail is rotatable, giving her an extra point for posing. She has all her stripes (and pant rips, Catra was Annalise's favorite) from the show. Her belt includes a tiny (and fully painted!) Force Captain badge. She came with a staff accessory. Catra uses Saran for her hair.

Glimmer:

[Glimmer's boots; the rest are stock photos]

Glimmer's hair is also saran, but it has been heavily gelled to achieve its shape, which explains why it's often a mess (or at least deflated) in any dolls that have been played with. Glimmer's white glove is painted on to make the layering with her gauntlets work, but otherwise she has her accessories from the show and her jumpsuit is two layers. She has a unique star sparkle in her eye screening and uses the same skintone as the original DC Super Hero Girls Wonder Woman doll. She came with a "sparkle burst" accessory to hold.

Bow:

[Bow's chest; the rest are stock photos]

Bow has real textured hair up top with his short sides painted (the more expensive Monster High dolls also have their short sides painted on). His top is a white fabric shirt with a single plastic accessory layered over the top of it to represent his armor pieces. Funnily, the strap for his quiver is included despite him not having one. He came with a (single piece) bow-and-arrow accessory.

Adora:

[Posed photo; the rest are stock photos]

I don't have many details on Adora's build, but here's her closeups. The white long-sleeves that are supposed to be from her shirt actually start at the hem of her jacket sleeves and are sewn directly to them. She has a white shirt front sewn on under the jacket collar to give the illusion of proper layering, but it's all one piece. She came with the same Sword of Protection that the two core She-ra dolls had.

Bootprints:

This was the only line they had at the time (and could still be) to have unique bootprints. I don't have a photo of it at the moment, but Adora's boots have four sparkles (the same shape as the emoji ✨) printed on the tread. She-ra's boots were fairly generic, but Glimmer's have a moon print on the bottom and Bow's featured hearts. Dreamworks shared the show designs with them ahead of time, since these dolls started production long before Bow's heart-soles were shown off in season two, and it was a detail they were excited to include for the fans.

It's mentioned up above, but the same cast was used for all of She-ra's boots. The pair pictured here is her con boots. Her regular boots didn't have the blue paint on the very top edge but were otherwise painted (they're up in the sword comparison photo in the SDCC section). The Battle Armor version was gold with no painting at all.

Packaging:

[A lineup of stock photos with the core five box fronts]

And finally, because it's really well-designed IMO, here's the packaging design that was used for the core five dolls. Darren Sander designed the packaging layout and blister with the artwork coming via Dreamworks. The front has the outlines from the Sword of Protection's blade embossed into it. The sides each have a little sword embossed into them and the top has the She-ra logo. They're difficult to see (much less photograph) in transparent plastic, and of course these are head-on photos, but the details really make it.

[egberts]

girls wake up there's a new worm bike playlist in progress

alana said the new one is way more funky, I've noticed a lot of punk bands are piggy dippin in a funk/punk sound more than a pop/punk sound and honestly? I'm so obsessed.

[daleyeahson]

Busy busy busy ✍️ 👀