#this would all be pre-fic

[strangersteddierthings]

In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

[lumiilys]

Love reading fic from before s2 aired when it was largely believed that Ed would be furious with Stede when he saw him again and either attack him or avoid him like the plague etc etc. meanwhile in canon Ed couldn’t stay angry with Stede for even a day and folded the moment Stede said one nice thing to him!

[kas-eddie-munson]

cw: ableism, depression

~~~

Eddie always tried not to dream too big.  He grew up poor, with shitty parents, so he learned pretty early on to prepare for disappointment if he ever asked for or wanted something, even non material wants, like love.

It didn’t always work, though.  His teachers always said he had his head in the clouds.  He dreamed of becoming a rockstar, getting married with kids afterwards.  Moving into a big house with a dog and a yard.

And he knew, really, it was silly.  But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing.  Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar.  Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop.

Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while.

And here he was.  Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive.  The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step.  And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair.

ONE step.

The bathroom door was too narrow to fit through with it.  He had to hold his piss sometimes when he didn’t have the energy to get all the way there without his chair.

He knew he was a financial burden on Wayne.  The government paid off most of his medical bills, and for their new home, but that wasn’t gonna cut it forever.  Especially if Wayne kept insisting on him continuing physical therapy.

He wondered what they told him.  If Wayne really thought he could ever walk again, more than across a room or from the door to the car.

Eddie did, at first.  Again, dreaming too big.

The doctors were honest with him, even if his heart wasn’t.  He’d be in pain probably the rest of his life.  Things would get better, but he’d probably always need his chair, at least sometimes.

Things were awkward, with his friends.  They didn’t get it.  He didn’t expect them to, and it’s not like they ever talked about feelings and shit anyway.  They didn’t think he killed Chrissy, he was pretty sure, and they weren’t super weird about how he got jumpy sometimes, but they’d get so awkward.  He’d move past them in his chair, and they’d cast their eyes to the floor, trying not to look at it.  Stopped inviting him places when half the time they’d show up and there’d be no ramp, or the ramp would be too steep, or too narrow to actually get up it.  Or they’d have to talk to five different employees to find the one who knew how to work the automatic door in the back of the building by the dumpster.

Not to mention how he often needed help just getting out of the car.  And how he ALWAYS needed a ride.

So they stopped talking to him, more or less.  The Party did still, kind of.  Dustin was always going on about Eddie’s exercises, and telling him how he can still do anything if he sets his mind to it, that that’s what they always said at science camp.

He means well, but Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him he’s already trying so, so hard.  That this is him at a hundred and ten percent.  That not every problem is something you can fix.

So, Eddie spends a lot of time alone, in his room, exhausted, too tired to even write music or work on campaigns - stuff you can do lying down - half the time.

Except on Thursdays.  Thursdays, Steve drove him to his physical therapy appointments.  It honestly felt kind of pathetic how much he looked forward to sitting in a car mostly in silence for thirty minutes a week.  He tried putting on music sometimes, but Steve always turned it off, and Eddie?  He’s too tired to fight over stuff like that anymore.

And Steve didn’t want to talk, it seemed.  People didn’t usually ignore him when he spoke these days, but Steve almost always did.  And Eddie didn’t care, really.  Again, lowering his expectations.

That was until this Thursday, anyway.  Sitting in silence, Eddie noticed a plastic bag by his feet in Steve’s normally pristine car, and Steve snatched it out of his hands when he tried to pick it up.

“Sorry, I uh, forgot to clean that up,” he said, and stuffed it in the center console.

Parked at the physical therapy place, Steve got out of the car to get Eddie’s chair out, and one of the older women who went here sucked him into a conversation Eddie was half listening to through the closed doors.  He glanced in the rear view mirror, and noted that Steve was facing away from the car.

Eddie looked at the center console, considering.  He popped it open and inspected the bag.  Inside was a stapled sheet of printer paper and a brochure.  Eddie frowned, and stuffed everything back in the bin as the woman left and Steve popped the trunk.

The brochure was information about hearing loss.

Steve helped him out of the car, and held the door for him into the building as usual.  Eddie noted how, despite being unusually quiet, Steve still treated him pretty normally, compared to some of their other friends.

Eddie didn’t get much done during his appointment.

~~~

Edit: Now had a part two

[necrotic-nephilim]

there is not enough femslash in batcest circles. the girls deserve to be just as weird about each other as the boys are. if BruDick gets to be weird father/son/brothers/lovers/friends/rivals/soulmates then it is only fair that Babs/Cass get to be mother/daughter/sisters/lovers too. Something about that deep intrinsic but undefinable love that is born out of trauma, especially if you consider Cass not knowing what healthy love looks like in the first place. i think it's fun and deserves just as much fandom content.

besides that, you can get even more niche with rarepairs like Helena/Steph. Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma is already a fantastic comic and even though it's their only real canon interaction it has so much potential. very comparable to TimJay in how Helena tries to get Steph to understand her morals and the corruption you could play with it.

batman: huntress/spoiler: blunt trauma (1998)

that comic also highlights on how both Steph and Helena are outcasts of the Batfamily and don't have the approval of Bruce to be doing what they do in "his city". I think there's so much Potential in Helena taking Steph under her wing because Bruce won't let her in and it becomes a weird codependent toxic sapphic mess. I think the protectiveness Helena feels over Steph from the get-go is so clear and the way she wants to look out for Steph, wants to make sure Steph understands the real world? I love them. Helena should be allowed to steal Steph, actually. I think it'd be fun.

there are a lot of other possibilities too like Babs/Steph or even getting weird with Helena Bertinelli/Helena Wayne and the existential question of "is it selfcest or not." But these two specifically live in my head rent-free, especially Helena/Steph and one day I'll convince everyone else to ship it too.

[akai-anna]

shinichi: *takes a deep breath* shinichi: i lo- anyone who has spent five seconds around shinichi ever: yes, you love ran, we know, you love mōri ran so much, she's the light of your life, you love her so much, you just love ran, we KNOW , you love ran you fucking love ran ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE MŌRI RAN. WE GET IT.

[hood-ex]

Looking at this comic appearance list for Jason and getting a headache thinking about how much Jason info I'm about to inject in my brain.

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[laundrybiscuits]

(continued from this snippet)

“You could—” Jonathan moves his hands through the air like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra.

“I don’t know what that means,” Eddie tells him. They’ve been smoking all afternoon, so Jonathan’s even more of a space case than usual.

“He means you could pretend, dude,” says Argyle, who is putting little braids into Eddie’s hair. It’s very soothing. “Like, fake it ‘til you make it.”

“I mean. It would be good for Will to see, like…happily ever after. But gay. You know?” Jonathan tips the last of the Dorito crumbs into his mouth and contemplates the empty bag with devastatingly sorrowful eyes.

“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” says Eddie. “Congrats, by the way, because I’ve heard a lot of bad ideas in my time, and I thought I knew all the major contestants. But lo and behold, dark horse Byers swoops in to steal the crown! The crowd goes wild.” He makes a raspy aaaaaah sound and wiggles his fingers to symbolize a packed stadium at the Bad Idea Olympic Games.

“That’s my boy,” says Argyle, reaching over to ruffle Jonathan’s hair. “Great job, brochacho.”

Eddie’s never totally sure whether Argyle’s doing an extended bit or not, and it’s the fucking best.

“So, you’ll do it?” Jonathan asks hopefully. He’s like a puppy dog, the way he perks up.

“Fuck no,” says Eddie. “Absolutely not under any circumstances. Fuck off.”

“Dude, I totally respect that,” says Argyle, starting on another braid. “Gotta honor your truth, Ed-head. Can’t shine a hella dope light from a flashlight powered by lie-batteries.”

“Every day I thank a god I don’t believe in for your presence in my life,” Eddie informs him.

———

Annoyingly, Jonathan doesn’t give up on the idea. What’s worse, he tries to be sneaky about it.

Eddie rolls up late to the next movie night, because he’s not always great with things like having a basic understanding of time and space. When he walks into the Byers-Hopper living room, Jonathan calls out, “Eddie, hey! There’s—you can sit here on the couch if you want. By Steve.”

Eddie gives him an unimpressed look. Jonathan doesn’t even have the decency to be phased by Eddie’s scorn, just shifts over to make room on the couch between him and Steve.

“Aww,” coos Eddie. “Did you miss me that much, Johnny-boy?” He drops right into Jonathan’s lap, slinging an arm around his neck.

“Why are you so heavy,” says Jonathan. “You look like if a stick figure had a baby with a mop.”

Eddie cackles. “It’s all the heavy metal. Weighs down my soul with whips and chains and demonic energy.”

“Jeez, you two, get a room.” Steve rolls his eyes.

The look of pure panic that crosses Jonathan’s face is pretty hilarious, all things considered.

“I’m not gay!” Jonathan blurts out. “Not that there would be—anything wrong with it. If I were. Because, um, gay people deserve love too. Because they’re just like us. I mean, people who aren’t gay. Which is me. I’m not. But it would be okay if I was.”

Will looks like he wants a rift to swallow him up where he sits, but Eddie thinks he looks a little bit pleased, too. It’s nice that Jonathan is trying so hard, even if Eddie has one or two notes on the execution.

“Okay, big guy,” says Eddie, patting Jonathan on the cheek. “Don’t have to throw a parade about it or anything.”

The movie’s okay, Eddie guesses. It’s Nancy’s pick, which means it’s a fast-talking political thriller that nobody but Robin can ever really follow. Afterwards, Steve leans over to him and says, “Hey, are you still out of Coke? I can pick some up on my way over after I drop Dustin off.”

Will gives Eddie a look, which is totally unjustified because this is a completely normal friend thing. Steve’s parents are in town, so he’s been spending a few nights camping out at Eddie’s, because everyone else has parents who’d probably object. It’s perfectly logical and completely normal. It’s not like he can bunk with Robin. Also, Robin kicks like a horse in her sleep.

But even though Eddie knows it’s a completely normal friend thing, he can also kind of see why Will might’ve gotten the wrong idea.

“Um,” he says. “Actually, maybe—not tonight? I just, Wayne’s been wanting to spend some more, like, uncle-nephew quality bonding time. You know he’s still kind of…” Eddie shrugs, grimacing. It’s true; Wayne’s been making a real effort to know what Eddie’s up to these days. Even though he hasn’t said anything, Eddie knows he’s traded some shifts to make their schedules line up a little better. So, everything Eddie’s saying is absolutely true and above-board, and there’s no reason for a weird squirmy guilty feeling to take up residence in his gut.

“Oh,” says Steve. “Sure, yeah, no problem.”

(ETA: yeah okay it's technically a series now)

[pa-pa-plasma]

you just made the scientific discovery of the century & you want to tell everyone & your kids are first on that list but you can't find them. you manage to get a hold of your daughter & she says everything is fine but her voice gets tight when you try to mention your work & she sucks in a breath & says she won't keep you from it any longer than she already has & doesn't say bye as she hangs up the phone. you have a sinking feeling in your gut & you really want to get back to what you were doing but. something's wrong. where are your kids. why was your daughter not surprised when you told her. why was she so quick to hang up on you. your husband has the same type of mind & that's probably why neither of you can ignore this odd turn of events & so you decide to track them down. the research can wait. after all, the spook got away somehow afterwards. it's not like you have anything to go through but data & recordings.

[formosusiniquis]

🪱 Wiggle Wednesday🪱

Thank you @paperbackribs who tagged me last week, I saw it while I was in class and immediately forgot until I saw people posting their things today. But I'm always excited to share my current brainworms

This is a scene from a fic that I pick at every now and then, so it's basically always on the brain. It started as something about Lucas and Steve and trying to explain away the slight anachronism of Steve (popular and rich) being in Nikes before Jordan made them cool (thank you Air) and it has turned into something much more about Lucas and also his Mom relating through a shared love of basketball and Steve is also there.

It’s a Friday night after the end of the world, and strangely Lucas is at a basketball game.

Or maybe it’s only strange because it’s so normal.

A Friday night in a small town and there isn’t much to do except support the home team. Only Mom won’t watch football, she calls it barbaric, so she reserves all her team spirit for November when basketball season starts. Lucas’ skin itches a little under the Hawkins Tigers shirt he’s wearing, as he’s pretending to be normal when a couple weeks ago he learned monsters were real. What can he do though? Mrs. Byers has Will on house arrest, Mike is still mourning Eleven, and Dustin hasn’t been allowed out since Will’s Lazarus act.

Maybe he’s being too sensitive. Steve is here, who Lucas mostly knows from Mike complaining about being Nancy’s stupid boyfriend. Steve is playing like everything is fine, even though Lucas knows Steve knows. He heard whispering about it with Nancy when he went to the bathroom the last time he was at Mike’s. But Steve is smiling as he paces down the court. Miles better than the other players around him, when Steve has the ball Lucas feels like he does when he’s watching a real basketball game on the couch with his Mom.

If Steve can act like things are normal. If he can sink three pointer after rebound after assist, maybe it’s okay that Lucas is wearing his Tiger green. He floats down the court and everyone cheers. But no one cheers right. When #21 Hagan gets a rebound off of Seymour’s best player, a girl’s voice screams so loud it makes his throat hurt. No one cheers that way for Steve. It’s just excitement for the game, not for him and the way he is playing.

When the game ends, Hawkins 73: Seymour 42, and the crowd storms the court Lucas stands by his Mom in the bleachers. She hates feeling the push of the crowd against her and as he gets older, and people��s hands get rougher, he’s starting to understand. He’s too old to be caught standing by his Mom though. After everything, he knows better than to move too far away from her; going to the game with your Mom is one thing, being the kid getting called out over the intercom because she can’t find you would be life ruining.

Lucas watches the thinning crowd while he waits. Parents and girlfriends crowding their sweaty players. He doesn’t want to get caught looking at any of those boys for too long now that they aren’t playing. He isn’t sure why. So he keeps looking for something familiar.

Steve is standing beside a short, dark haired man who’s got what his father calls a beer gut. He doesn’t look anything like Steve, but he’s also the only adult anywhere near him. He’s the only person at all that’s really near Steve. They’re talking excitedly about something. He claps Steve on the back and whatever he says next has Steve looking down toward the floor.

“Is that Steve’s dad?” he asks his mom before thinking about why that might be a weird question to ask her.

“Who?” The way she says it makes him sure she hadn’t actually heard the question. She’d caught a name, when he interrupted her conversation with the lady next to them, but not enough to answer. It’s a free chance to drop the issue. To say sorry, never mind, and go back to watching people move on the floor below them.

“That guy,” she slaps his hand down as he goes to point. “The guy next to Steve, number 8, is that his dad?”

“How do you know him?” The question, instead of an answer, startles him enough that he looks at her instead of Steve. Stern, he knows he doesn’t want to lie to her, but he also isn’t sure how to say that this random high school boy saved two of his best friends’ older siblings' lives.

“He’s Nancy’s boyfriend. Mike talks about him.”

If he’d just waited. He would have gotten his question answered without asking Mom. They both watch as that man says one more thing to Steve, shakes his hand, and walks out of the gym. “I don’t see Nancy here.” Because they both know he doesn’t really need his other question answered anymore.

“I don’t think she really likes sports.”

Mom sucks her teeth, a judgmental tchk that has heat climbing the back of his neck when it's not even for him. "Well that's a shame, he's a good player." There's finally enough space on the floor that they could leave. He wants, desperately, for them to just go cause something about this conversation is making him feel guilty again. "Do you want to to say hi?"

There's nothing he wants less than that. Lucas thinks if he has to go up to this guy, who went toe to toe with a monster, while his mom trails behind he'll die. Lucas thinks if he says hi to a guy who has only seen him maybe twice in the context of Mike Wheeler's house, and has to sit there while Steve blankly accepts his congrats he'll melt into the floor.

"Can we just go home? I still have homework."

And some tags to @fuctacles, @cauldronoflove, @thefreakandthehair, @stevespookington, @stevieharringtonwifeguy

@eriquin, @grasslandgirl, @augustjustice, and anyone else who wants to play!

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[little-bumblebeeee]

Moonlight – part 5

Word count: 1.4k

Part 4 part 3 part 2 part 1

Angst angst angst angst

(Next chapter will be a Steve chapter!!!!)

Nothing happened of course. He just let Steve hang out at his place until he cooled down and Eddie sent him off back to Nancy. Back to Nancy. He can't help but feel a bitter hatred towards the girl despite her doing absolutely nothing to him. He knows it's just jealousy though, jealousy about a boy he'll never in a million years get.

Why does he keep doing this to himself? Wanting what he can't have. Fame, money, boys, a life in general.

Because he's Eddie Munson. The world has it out for him.

He stabs his pencil through the paper of his sketchbook, his blood going cold as he realizes he shouldn't have done that. The dragon on the page now has a gaping hole in it's chest, and while he could try to fix it, he doesn't want to fix things right now. Fixing needs effort, and he doesn't have that in him at the moment, not while he's sitting on his bed crying over a boy.

"Eddie Munson, crying over a jock. What a twist, huh?" He comments bitterly to the ratty Garfield plush in front of him, slumped over from the lack of stuffing in one side, droopy eyes scratched to practically nothing. He still keeps it though, because he loves it.

Some things don't need to be fixed. They're lovable the way they are.

And yet nobody seems to love Eddie. Sure, his mom loved him, but that was when he was a kid, and he can't help but wonder if she would still love him if she was around today. Wayne too, but that's different, hard to see. He wants a different love, he wants Steve's love. He'll get rid of it soon. This stupid, horrible crush on a boy. A boy who's both a jock and a werewolf. God, what has his life become?

It's been a week since he stopped Steve from spraypainting all over town, and he can't help but realize.. he missed the full moon. Steve would've already turned back by now, all alone. It's fine. It's not like Steve needs him, and Eddie was wanting to distance himself from Steve. This is good for them both.

Yet guilt eats away at him, squeezing and twisting at his insides, making his lungs close up and his throat catch. He can hardly breathe, and it hurts. He feels like he should apologize, but he can't, it's not even necessary. Steve never needed Eddie there, not when he's been transforming all by himself for years and years already by the time Eddie found him.

He can't go to school. He can't even risk the chance of seeing Steve, can't even risk the chance of seeing this damn boy. It hurts. It's horrible, it's.. Eddie gets up, going out to the small kitchen as if his body is on autopilot. He opens the fridge and closes it a couple times, his brain empty from the lack of accomplishment of grabbing something from the barren shelves. He doesn't know what to do with himself. It's a feeling not unknown to him, but it's never been at the hands of a boy who looks both like a God and Just Some Dude. What is wrong with him? He's Eddie Munson, of all people he should be immune to Harrington's charms.

But he just isn't.

Nothing is working, either. Not food, not drawing, not his music, not D&D– hell, he even tried going on a walk. Nothing. Is. Working. He tried to lose himself in his interests, tried to let them consume him completely like they do when he doesn't want them to, but not even those want him now. His guitar isn't calling to him, neither are his books or the figurines that still need to be painted.

Eddie needs to talk to this boy. Even once. He doesn't care if he'll be rejected, he truly doesn't, he just.. needs to get this feeling out. Shoes on his feet, keys in his hand, he stills. He didn't even open the door yet.

He can't do this. He should be confident, but no, he's shaking like a leaf, his stomach churning. He doesn't even take his shoes off as he walks back to his room, slowly slipping into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. He doesnt like this feeling. He doesn't like when the only things beckoning him closer are the things that will hurt him most. How when he thought Steve was in danger he was so ready to leave, yet now he can't even open the front door?

There's something wrong with him. Always has been, always will be. If he's not killed or doesn't do it himself before he graduates he'll be driven out of this hellhole of a town, either going to jail and reuniting with his no-good dad or being completely alone for the rest of his life. People would talk and wonder. They'd discuss and gossip about Mr. Munson, the shut-in neighbor with a cat who nobody sees outside unless he's working or on his porch, the man who doesn't speak, the man who stays inside when he doesn't have errands, the man who drinks himself to bed every day. They'd wonder what happened to get him like that– if he had a wife who passed away or something.

He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat at the thought. He doesn't want that but it seems like the only future for him. The Garfield plush on his pillow that he found comfort in since he was a child now seems like it's mocking him, it's lazy eyed stare and wide sleepy smile staring him down.

That's when he hears the tapping on his window. There was knocking at his door earlier but he didn't bother to answer, knowing that if it was his uncle he wouldn't be knocking and would just come inside, not really caring about visitors.

He doesn't get out of bed, but he hears the window slide open, harsh sunlight burning his eyes as someone tumbles into his room, shoe covered feet landing on Eddie's carpeted floors.

And his voice.

"Eddie? What's going on? You weren't there.." Steve says quietly, hesitantly walking over to Eddie's bedside as if he was sick or something. He must look pathetic, buried under a thin blanket, clutching a stuffed animal, with his hair a mess and his eyes all puffy and red.

"You weren't there." Steve repeats. "I waited for you. All night. I don't even know what happened– I just know I woke up and I... I was covered in blood. I don't know what or who's blood it was– I'm freaking the fuck out!" He says, pacing Eddie's room. The boy jolts up, rubbing his eyes and throwing the blanket off. That's when he finally gets a good look at Steve. The tired eyes, his uncharacteristically sunken and pale skin, dried blood on his hands as if all he could do was try and wipe it off his skin with what he could find and shove some clothes on before going straight to Eddie.

"Shit shit shit, shit, shit! Okay.. okay, blood. You didn't kill someone, you couldn't have. You're not that kinda... person.. werewolf.. thing." Eddie says breathlessly, getting up out of bed and realizing that half of this blood is Steve's. The way it seeps through his blue sweater, creating a dark stain that just keeps spreading.

"I don't know what happened." Steve admits upon realizing what Eddie is looking at, lifting up his sweater to show a gaping hole in his abdomen, next to that patch of hair Eddie has dreamed about again and again.

"Holy shit.. Steve, you got shot*" He says in shock, but Steve doesn't even look surprised. He simply shoves his fingers into the wound and pulls out a bullet, wiping his hand on his sweater. "I'll be fine. It's not even close to the first time, I know how to handle it. You got a first aid kit or anything?"

Eddie blinks a few times.. sure, Steve is a werewolf, he's strong, he doesn't feel as much pain as a normal person. But he just pulled a bullet out of his flesh and asked Eddie if he had gauze with the normalcy of asking if it's cold out today, not to mention he didn't even notice the blood was his own.

Now all he has to do is keep it together when Steve pulls off his shirt to patch himself up.

Tag list: @manda-panda-monium @irregular-child @gregre369 @cartercaptainofthemoon @oatmilk-vampire @she-collects-smut @jhrc666 @fairytalesreality

Tag list IS currently open! ♡

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

OOO I'm very excited to share this chapter! We're getting close to the finish line!

Its name is "The Song of Us"

Page 54 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 15:

The Blind man asks his companion, before dawn break, What do you believe, is a beast’s fate, Once death seizes its life, in his inevitable grasp? The beast, his heart knowing of the fallen knight’s pleas, Of men they lost, who were left to be but a worm’s dark feast, Answers, death reaches for monsters all the same as men, For the unjust, for the cruel, For the kind, for the forgiving, All bones become one, until they become none, As death is the only being, to see all as one and the same.

This city is quiet, in the way a drowning is. Something wicked is happening under the surface, hidden from plain sight. If only its victim had air to scream.

The Hunter has intel beyond the SAS’s scope, beyond Laswell’s. Informants, comms. A man pronounced to all as dead. How is it possible, they were written off as a non-threat before?

Soap grits his teeth, tapping the lit end of his cigarette on a wall. Simon started moving a few minutes ago, the poison once again retreating. By the haunted look in his brown eyes, John could tell they both know he’s running out of time.

Price has been arguing with Laswell while helping Simon. Something about the fact the Hunter seemingly didn’t exist a year prior, on paper. Appeared out of nowhere one day with an army behind them, ready to burrow into intelligence networks in a way even Makarov couldn’t.

Makarov’s name came up a lot in that conversation. Enough that Soap had to take a smoke.

Anger thrums through his veins. Begging for blood. The same incessant screaming that drove him to choke the life out of Makarov, the same fire that kept him going through this personal slice of hell.

Maybe he’s an idiot, for wanting to kill the Hunter, for believing it will change anything.

The cigarette’s flame licks his fingers.

Soap crushes it against the wall. He turns around, watching Simon and the Captain. Far enough to not hear them, but they seem to need a bit of privacy anyway. Soap can’t say he’s ever seen Price that emotional, in their short meetings.

He asks himself where Gaz is when the Lieutenant approaches him.

“Price is bloody livid, isn’t he?” Gaz huffs.

Soap hums. His eyes move from the Captain to Simon, his mask still on the ground besides him.

Kyle follows his stare, “did you know Ghost’s identity, when I found you two?”

“No”, the white skull almost glows in the moonlight, “I only found out when… the communicator tried to use it against him.”

He can feel Gaz scan his features, “and you still decided to work with him.”

Soap doesn’t answer. Simon and Price are hugging now, the movement uncoordinated to Ghost. He doesn’t know how he can tell.

He turns to face Gaz, “I swore we will finish this together. I don’t go back on my word.”

“We both know this goes beyond that, Soap.” Gaz gives him a half smile, “the way you look at him… Haven’t seen you like that with anyone else.”

Soap frowns, scoffing, “don’t know what yer-”

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Gaz asks, almost gently.

…Feelings?

…..Could he?

“I…”

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Gaz murmurs, “in all the years I’ve known you, you didn’t act like this. Going against everyone you know, jumping in front of him when Price starts threatening him, letting him rest his bloody head on your legs- c’mon Soap, you’re fucking smitten with the man-”

“Kyle.” Soap stops him, head hanging down to hide the embarrassment painting his cheeks red. He scrubs a weary hand over his features, looking up at his friend between his fingers.

Gaz’s eyes soften. Soap sighs, “I- this is not the time for that kind of shite. We need to fuckin’ dust the Hunter, and then-”

And then what?

Soap lowers his hand, stare unconsciously drifting towards Simon. Since when have his eyes started doing that?

It hasn’t been more than a month since he arrived to this godforsaken city. How is it that John can’t imagine being alone again?

Or… how can’t he imagine an ‘after’ without Simon?

“I won’t lie to you.” Kyle starts, his tone gentler, “I still don’t fully trust Ghost. Even if he is… Simon Riley.” the Lieutenant places a hand on his shoulder, “but I can tell what you truly want, even if you think it’s not feasible.”

“That’s because it isn’t-”

“Bullshit.” Gaz turns John around to face him, “look, we are not good men. We’ve been operating outside the law for… for as long as I can remember. What we do, the way we dirty our hands...”

Kyle lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his shoulder, “what I’m saying is, we can make people disappear. And if you… if you want that, I can help. I’m sure Price will too-”

“Yer out of yer mind-”

“Are you going to go back to Scotland, mate?” Gaz’s voice sharpens on desperation, “are you gonna go back to feeling like you have nothing to live for? Can you really leave this life, leave Ghost, behind?” He almost whispers the end, “be honest.”

How could he go back? No apartment, endless job search, a buzz under his skin that cannot be scrubbed off, disappointment to his family, emptiness, emptiness, emptiness-

“What else can Ah do?!” Soap tenses under Gaz’s hand.

That hand keeps him steady all the same, “whatever you want, John.” Kyle smiles sadly, “me and Price don’t have that freedom, but you two? You don’t have stuffy generals breathing down your neck.”

“I don’t-” Soap cuts himself off, thoughts whirling faster in his mind. He gets reminded of what his therapist used to say about him, back when he was just discharged.

“You fixate on danger, John. To the point of obsession. You don’t know when to let go, if you believe you can make things right.”

“Even if the cost is more than you should be willing to pay.”

“Just… think about it. Besides…” Gaz looks away, expression darkening, “I have a feeling the 141 might need people like you in the future.”

Soap brows furrow, “dishonorably discharged adrenaline addicts?”

Kyle chuckles, “no”, his hands tighten on Soap’s shirt, “people we can trust. People who are willing to do what’s right, even if they know they shouldn’t. Even if they don’t act the way the higher ups would want them.”

His brown eyes turn to look at John, determination he first saw on bootcamp only growing stronger, “people like you.”

Soap goes through another cigarette with Gaz by the time Price and Simon return to them. Both of their eyes shine with tears.

“Laswell did some digging.” Price grunts, “wasn’t easy, finding intel on the Hunter. They know their way around our networks, clearly.” his stare flickers towards Simon, “this operation-”

“Mass murder” Soap corrects. Calling this an operation would spit on the dozens of innocent people left to rot here.

“Mass murder”, the Captain continues, “is very unusual for the Hunter’s soldiers. Almost… flashy.”

“The communicator admitted it was an attempt to frame me.” Simon rolls up the mask in his hands, slipping it on, “they needed to show the British Army I’m too dangerous to keep.”

“And they knew the SAS would send the 141 because of the informant.” Gaz huffs.

Price nods, “which they did succeed in, but it also exposed them to us.”

“The SAS wouldn’t have investigated it further if ye actually killed Ghost the first time around.” Soap grumbles, wincing a moment later when he remembered who he’s talking to.

The Captain takes it surprisingly seriously. “Correct. This is not the first time they hide behind a smaller, supposedly unconnected criminal.” he hangs his arms on his tacvest, commending voice booming in the empty streets, “the Hunter is now top priority for the 141, our orders are to eliminate them, along with any high ranking officers remaining within their army. This mission is classified to all but us and Laswell - anyone else will be treated as a potential collaborator of the Hunter.”

“What about Soap and Ghost, Captain?” Gaz asks.

Price sighs, “Ghost has escaped after releasing the civilian he captured as leverage. And John MacTavish?” a sly smile pushes his mustache up, ”he has never set foot in this city.”

Kate Laswell isn’t someone Soap knew well, back in his service. Has heard her name being dropped in a couple of debriefs, a few calls here and there regarding missions.

He becomes increasingly grateful she’s on their side, as she brings up more and more intel on the Hunter. Their main source of information is the informant Ghost killed - the man recognized several undercover soldiers moving supplies in and out of the city in the past few weeks. He knew something big was going to happen, but the SAS waved it off as a local gang.

On the day of his death, he managed to send in one last report. The informant knew his time was limited, that his cover was blown, so the message was painfully short.

‘Skull in warehouse, Konservy, game over’

It was not clear if who he referred to when he transmitted the name “Skull”, and at the time the comms officer asked the informant to repeat, thinking it was a mistyped “Ghost”. With what they know now, it’s highly likely he was actually talking about the Hunter, and their red skull insignia. Konservy is a name of a warehouse, two clicks out of the city, as Laswell quickly found out.

‘Game over’ is the agreed upon sign for caught spies.

Price and Gaz have brought out their maps, attempting to lock down the warehouse’s location. Soap and Ghost were gently shooed away after it became obvious they don’t have any more useful intel to provide.

“How’s your neck?” Ghost asks him, the two of them leaning against a crumbling wall.

Soap opens his mouth to answer, when gloved fingers brush over the bruised skin on his throat. “I uh…” he swallows, the hand following the movement, “I feel fine.”

Ghost hums, caressing the wound for a moment longer before pulling away. Soap wants to chase the touch.

He really is in over his head, isn’t he?

“Simon.” Soap looks up at the bright skull mask, “have you thought about… what are ye gonna do after?”

“...no.”

“...Would ye go back? To what you did before?”

Simon stares at him deeply, eyes closing, “I don’t think I can.” he looks back at Soap, “you? What did you do before?”

Soap chuckles bitterly, “ah, I was spendin’ my newly civvi life indulging in only the greatest of pleasures. Like sittin’ in an office for nine hours a day, or knittin’ a scarf on my therapist’s orders.”

Simon’s shoulders shake with a badly hidden laugh, “I’d like to see you knit.”

Soap grins, “oh I was a natural. It definitely didn’t have several holes by the time I was done.” 

“How did you get here, then?” Simon asks, mirth still creasing his eyes.

His smile drops, words dying on his tongue, “I uh…” that weeks-old shame starts creeping back in, “was about to be evicted. Got fired, bastards never liked me anyway. I jus’ took all of my money and… ran as far as I could.”

Simon hums, shoulder leaning in to nudge his. Soap thinks the conversation is over after a few moments of silence, the both of them mauling over the words, when Simon surprises him.

“Think I’d like that… running away.” he murmurs.

“Aye? Where would ye go?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think it matters.” Simon leans in closer, their foreheads almost touching, “as long as the company is good.”

Soap feels a shiver go down his spine, eyes wide as he tries to find the joke that must be in Simon’s.

But he looks so painfully sincere, even when he finally leans away, “too bad there’s none ‘ere. Might ask Laswell if she got any tips on finding partners in crime.”

Soap lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “think they make dating apps for fuckers like ye?”

“Doubt I’ll find anyone as mental as you on Tinder, Johnny.” Simon deadpans.

“That’s because yer looking in the wrong place - Christian Mingle is where the real crazy bastards are.”

Simon can’t hold in his laugh this time, and for the first time Soap hears the way he snorts a little when his giggles become uncontrollable. It’s a horribly endearing sound, one that he wants to hear for every day for the rest of his life.

It makes his heart hurt, heavy, sinking in his chest like a death sentence.

Gaz was right.

He’s in love with Simon Riley.

Gaz went back to get the vehicle he and Price infiled with. It had a laptop, a few maps, and the most wonderful MREs Soap ever had. He never thought he’d miss that shite, but after running on a handful of oranges and a possibly moldy sandwich, they tasted like heaven on earth.

As he and Ghost had their meal (Simon’s eyes sparkled in a way that told Soap he was clearly as delighted with the food as he was), the 141 finalized their plan with Laswell. Soap could see them arguing about something, but he was far too preoccupied with eating to care at the moment.

Ghost, however, did care, “need anything, Price?”

The Captain snaps his head up, taking off his hat and scratching at his hair, “we have an angle to breach, but…”

Gaz joins in, “We don’t have intel on how many guards are posted, their location… mission will be doomed from the start if we just go in guns blazing.”

“Why not do some recon, then?” Soap wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “we’re all trained for that.”

“Too risky, the warehouse is exposed, and the Hunter won’t leave any obvious gaps in security if they’re worth their salt.” Price grunts.

Ghost gets up, walking over to the maps spread on the truck’s hood, “then we break in.”

Soap smirks at the assurance in his voice, “and that’s why I love the Ghost.”

He instantly catches the knowing expression on Gaz’s face, as well as Simon stiffening beside him. Soap curses himself mentally, feeling his face heat up in shame. He prays for any god that might listen, that Ghost didn’t take it as seriously as the truth is.

Thankfully, Price saves him from blurting out some more recently-discovered-emotions, “no other way but through, eh Simon? What do you have in mind?”

Ghost scans the maps of the warehouse Laswell has sent over, “The Hunter doesn’t know we’re working together, if they’re expecting an attack they would only expect two people - me and Johnny.” his eyes flicker to Soap’s for a brief moment, “if we split up, the 141 could take them by surprise.”

“You said they’re after you and John, Simon. If they catch you, we might not be able to help.” Price says grimly.

Ghost sighs, looking away frustrated. His head turns to face Soap, eyes calculating, “...what if they don’t know it’s us?”

“What?” Price asks.

Ghost continues, eyes still staring deeply into his, “Johnny can easily disguise himself, he’s done so before. All he needs is to cover up his face and hair.”

The Captain nods to Ghost, “and what about you, son? Everyone knows your mask.”

“But no one knows his face.” Soap answers, understanding washing over him, “but Simon-”

“I can’t be Ghost if we want to finish this.” Simon brushes fingers over the bone-white teeth of the skull mask, hand tightening into a fist.

Gaz nods slowly, “and we can’t be the 141.” he sends a meaningful look to the Captain, “this operation has to be kept secret. If the SAS learns we collaborated with the Ghost…”

“Then we won’t be.” Price walks to the back of the truck, pulling out 3 black balaclavas and throwing them to Soap and Gaz.

Price begins explaining their plan, “Laswell has gathered up a few blueprints of the Konservy warehouse. There are several key points that appear to be far too open for us to breach, all except one - the offloading garage. We’ll split into two teams, me and Gaz will take the offices and CCTV rooms, clearing the way for Soap and Ghost to infiltrate the main machinery room.”

“Our plan depends on each team watching the other’s six, we’ll have to keep comms up.” Gaz adds.

“Once the first team takes over the CCTV room, we will be able to locate the Hunter. The faster we do this, the less likely reinforcements will arrive.” Price hands Soap and Ghost a radio.

“Do we know where they keep their vehicles?” Soap asks while fitting the comms over his clothes.

“Yeah, should be around where we first enter. Why?” Gaz raises a brow towards him.

A wicked smile spreads on Soap’s lips, “might be able to set up a little surprise for any newcomers.”

Ghost chuckles darkly, “always ready to craft a trap, aren’t you, Johnny?”

“Never failed me before, Simon.”

“You can take a look at our supplies, take whatever you need.” Price looks over each of them, “any questions?”

Soap flexes his hands, adrenaline thrumming a familiar song through his veins, anger painting his vision red, “what are we waiting for?”

[razzledazzletrassh]

no major fic updates just yet guys TAKE MY WOY OC I MADE LIKE. April of last year IM PLUGGING SOME INFO ABOUT THIS GUY IN THE TAGS.

I may also redesign her soon or something. Make her more bug-like with some stuff. I can cook guys let me cook !!!

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game (1)

au where bruce is attracted to his robins and batgirls. he tries not to think about it or act on it, but it's getting more difficult with every new member of his team he acquires. does anyone know? do the robins and batgirls notice his weird behavior? what do they do about it? do they ever find out the truth? who would think it's terrible and who would find it strangely hot/comforting/nice? does bruce ever act on his feelings?

for the ask game!

oh my GOD do i have thoughts for AUs like this, i love this shit so dearly, dirtybadwrong Bruce who's trying to keep a lid on it my beloved.

i think the fun of this AU is if characters would notice Bruce lusting for themselves vs would they notice Bruce lusting for a different Robin/Batgirl. like does Dick pick up on it when it's just him and Bruce? no, because it's just. him and Bruce. he and Bruce are weird and complicated and hold endless bounds of nuance. that's just How Bruce Is, and Dick is the "test run", in a sense. he knows Bruce is new to this whole sidekick/family thing and is giving Bruce grace for being rough around the edges. but when Bruce starts looking at Jason or Tim or Cass that way, that's when Dick starts to notice. it's never enough of a suspicion he feels justified to bring it up, but the thought lingers. he's hyperaware and grows less and less comfortable with leaving them alone with Bruce. it's a weird game of chicken, Dick and Bruce staring each other down when Bruce's touch lingers too long. each waiting for the other to say something first. if Bruce ever broke and actually acted on his feelings, Dick would be eaten alive by the guilt of knowing something was up, but never saying something until it was too late.

obviously, Cass would know. there's no world where Cass *doesn't* know, the nature of who and what she is would immediately clock it. but the issue is, Cass doesn't have a good framework of what family looks like. she doesn't really understand familial vs romantic love bc she has no firsthand experience of what a parent's love should even look like. so she never calls it out. she just watches. i'm a fan of Cass believing this is normal and believing she too can express and act on attraction that's vaguely incestuous. maybe it's with Babs, maybe it's with Dick or Tim or Bruce himself. but she recognizes this as Normal and Accepted within the Batfamily, so it severely fucks up her understanding of familial love and i just. man it's my favorite thing about Cass in Batcest honestly, is how you can play with her lack of experience with love, boundaries, and sexuality.

Tim is the fun one for me. because my favorite flavor of BruTim is when Tim knows, as he agrees to be Robin, that there's a non-zero chance that Bruce is going to be Weird and agrees anyway because he's decided it's an acceptable risk. so Tim knows from the get-go because he's expecting it. if Bruce acts on his attraction, i think it's either with Tim or Cass first, because they're the most likely to confront him about it in a way that isn't entirely negative. Tim has accepted it's a possibility and Cass just seeks being loved and touched so. it leads to the first time someone's ever confronted Bruce about it. and the thing is, Bruce really doesn't like confrontation about his flaws. the first time Tim tries to imply he's okay with it, Bruce would lash out at the idea, tell Tim how inappropriate that is and benches Tim for a week. it'd probably take a united front from Cass and Tim to get Bruce to even *admit* to the attraction. still Bruce wouldn't allow it to happen and he brushes them off until finally, the dam breaks. it's fun if there's a cause like sex pollen, but i think it's *more* fun if it's just. a random fucking Tuesday and finally Bruce is at his limit. he has no real reason, there's nothing particularly different about that day's routine. he just sees Tim or Cass striping armor and sighs and gives in.

i don't think Steph, Jason, or Babs would notice until anything substantial happened. not because they're not wicked smart, but just because none of them were looking for it. Jason put Bruce on a pedestal when he was alive, and when he came back from the dead he wasn't close enough to be noticing Bruce's interpersonal dynamics outside of his narrow scope. Steph has no real framework for what healthy fatherhood looks like, so if Bruce's touches linger, if he stares too long, she just shrugs and assumes it's how it is. and Babs was just never quite close enough to Bruce to notice. if and when she notices, is when actual sexual things start to happen between Cass and Bruce. because Cass would see no reason to hide it. Babs would be pissed, but it'd be tricky to navigate. Cass would be an adult, even if she's only 18/19, so technically, she's old enough to be consenting. if nothing else, Bruce is a careful man. even when he breaks and gives in to his desires, he covers his tracks well. he makes sure he has enthusiastic consent and there's no legal recourse that could be taken. age of consent and all that. there's not much Babs can *do* other than try to tell Cass (and/or Tim) that this isn't normal or okay. not that it gets her anywhere, but god would she try.

by the time Duke comes along (if we venture out of the pre-Flashpoint era) i think it's a sort of. open secret, in the Batfamily. talked about in nothing but hushed whispers and knowing glances. at some point, they've all had sex with Bruce, caving all for different reasons. some more than others. Tim sees it as a duty, Cass sees it as a way of seeking comfort, Steph sees it as getting Bruce's approval for once, etc. it's never forced on them, but eventually, they all come to Bruce sooner or later. and that's the fun irony of it, i think. they try to convince the others not to, but would go to Bruce on their own well. because complicated reasons they can't put into words. sometimes, Bruce is just a messy man who doesn't realize how prized his Attention to for the rest of the Batfamily. that weird duality of not liking him, but also wanting desperately for him to like you. all of them have dealt with it, at some point. so for Duke, it takes a while for him to understand this... whole dynamic. it's Cass who tries to explain it to him, and he's a little horrified, a lot confused. especially when Bruce starts staring at him a little too long as well. i think he'd only want to watch first but well. they all cave eventually.

also fun bonus if we venture into the Dark Knight Returns universe for my bestest girl Carrie Kelley: there's such a like, "i'm fucking around and i'm finding out" vibe to Carrie. like Tim, she's very proactive in just. deciding she's going to be Robin and she's ready for whatever that entails. (IMO canon Carrie is closer to fanon Tim than canon Tim is but *that* deserves its own post-) like she takes one look at the old man that is Batman and goes yup. he's never fucking getting rid of me now. if Bruce started having weird feelings about her, i think she'd have *fun* with it. she's decided she's in it for the long haul and for whatever being Robin means so. she's almost teasing about it, seeing how hard she can push before Bruce snaps. since it's an older, gruffer Bruce, i think he'd express open annoyance at it first, almost a sort of banter about how Carrie behave. but of course he caves and Carrie leans into it, because there's a fun in having all of Bruce's attention to herself. in the main timeline, Bruce is pretty split with so many Robins and Batgirls, but during their era, it's *just* her and him and she's very proud she's got him all to herself.

[appleciders]

okay so i did watch all of warrior nun in like 2 days bc i have the no longer novel coronavirus and i just. am going CRAZY about the mary/shannon/lilith/beatrice dynamic. absolutely crazy. like the pink + white scene? where mary and lilith each take one of beatrice’s arms and hold her protectively, giving each other the big sister look of solidarity and understanding over her head? lilith tipping her head into beatrice’s cheek? the photograph of the three of them laughing? shannon’s death scene - telling lilith she’s ready, giving mary her medal, closing her eyes when beatrice kisses her on the forehead? the way beatrice describes shannon having loved pranking them? just. the love between all of them in every iteration.

and i just. god i have so many feelings about serious, intense, guarded beatrice - who is so YOUNG compared to the others - first coming into cat’s cradle. and mary sitting down with her at dinner, because beatrice automatically sits alone, her head bent. and the others joining. about weeks going by and them slowly warming her up - mary feels proud whenever she makes her lips twitch, lilith is delighted when beatrice starts to slowly show her sense of humor - they all love cruella de jesus so much (except for shannon, who never says anything but never uses it) not just for the lame joke, but because it was beatrice who made it, their beatrice with a proud grin - and shannon radiates affection when she manages to catch one of them with a good prank and beatrice laughs.

beatrice becoming someone who they come to trust not only to keep a level head and a brilliant, tactical mind, but also to love them - and they see the twisting jagged inwardness of her pain, and mary and shannon make knowing, grim eye contact, lilith - who was in so much of the same pressure cooker of perfection except instead of desperately throwing herself into being useful and having value she has turned to becoming the best, becoming ready, she has things to live up to instead of live down - squeezes her hand - but with them beatrice does not let that pain stop her from caring, loving. they are the easiest part of her vows to keep.

and mary and shannon, and mary and lilith - to see those you love changed by something of another world entirely, pulling them away from you, making them less human - and they keep giving their lives for others, fucking self sacrificial idiots, except you’re all cut from the same cloth, aren’t you? not technically, because you’re not of the cloth, not like them - but you’re alike in that way, all of you are, and it’s such a fucking glorified tragedy that you want to burn the catholic church down for it.

(side note it drives me crazy that they all know exactly which parts of each other to cut into, to make hurt - lilith telling mary she’s not really one of them, that she doesn’t belong, that she only cares about herself; mary telling lilith that all she cares about is her legacy; mary telling beatrice that she cares more about the church than her sisters; probably more that i can’t remember but it’s because they know and love each other so well that they can have this much incisive fury - “she’s my sister, of course i hate her”)

and then camila coming in, the new youngest - and now it’s beatrice’s turn to be the big sister, to camila who has been through so much and still reacts to gentleness like a flower to the sun. and camila comes in at such a hard time, because shannon is retreating, hardening, and it is putting everyone on edge. but camila is a joy and beatrice loves her too, and the rest of them get to see her growth with pride, so much pride.

anyway. my KINGDOM for a world where toya turner got to be in season 2.