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chinchillamajor · 6 months

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Reflections From A Barroom Mirror (Star Simon/Bad End AUs - drabble ficlet)

Star Simon finds himself back in a world he's already been to, once.

Oodles of my highest kudos to @mushroomnoodles for creating this little world (and so many others!) for Star Simon to be able to visit. I write a heck of a lot faster than I draw, so please excuse the lack of doodles for this one.

Trigger warnings: referenced mass death/catastrophe (Bad End pregnant Simon AU); implied but not shown Simon mpreg; alcohol use/alcoholism; death from alcohol poisoning mentioned.

Join me on the other side of the readmore, if you want. I can't say it won't hurt, but... I think it's still worth it. :3

"Haven't we been to this world before?" he asked Dandelion, who glowed faintly, saying nothing in reply. "Something about it feels familiar."

---

Star was confused at first, when he hopped through that night's dream portal.

He looked around the bar he'd appeared inside. Then stopped, recognizing the man slumped at the row of seats facing the bartender, along the far wall. Noticing, with a wince, the four-eyed baby wriggling quietly in the stroller parked beside his seat.

Star walked up to this alternate Simon, and took a seat on the stool next to him. "Water. No ice," he told the bartender, who looked back and forth between the two nigh-identical men, then shrugged, and got out a new glass.

This world's Simon didn't seem to have registered anyone was there next to him, until Star spoke.

"Hello, again," Star said. "This is strange... I don’t think I've ever been sent to a world *twice.* Much less where a version of our kiddo's already been born."

Simon raised his head away from his two bent fists he'd been resting it upon, blinking at Star blearily.

"I guess Dandelion figured you might need some extra help," Star added with a shrug. He squinted a little behind his glasses, trying to remember. "You... had a seal put on you, didn’t you? And Princess Bubblegum was building a dome for you, for when you were gonna have your kiddo?"

"Yeah... Sounds like me," Simon began, his words sliding together from too much alcohol. "For everyone's SAFETY."

He gave a dragging, ugly guffaw, but there was no humor in his voice. "Oh, glob, all we were trying to do was keep the Candy Kingdom *safe...*"

Star chose his words carefully. "If it would hurt to bring it up, you don’t have to answer, but... can I ask what happened?"

"Hurt? If it'd-- *HURT?*" Simon blurted at him in disbelief, and gave another cackle. He called out to the bartender. "This guy's new. Asking if what happened might *hurt."*

He grabbed for the shot glass before him, tossing back what little was left in the glass before clinking it back down onto the bar rail, hard. "Why do you think I'm HERE?"

"Something *bad,* then," Star said with a nod. "I won't push."

"No. No, I *wanna* talk about it. Everyone else is sick of me going on about what happened. But *I* have to live with it in my head, all the time," slurred Simon.

He took a deep breath, then tapped the empty shot glass against the table again, twice. The bartender obeyed the unspoken signal, bringing down a cloudy whisky bottle to refill his glass.

"When I woke up... there was my kiddo, there in my arms. Tiny, and wiggly, and *warm*... warmer than I ever figured anyone could be. They gave a little cry, and then..."

Tears began to pinprick behind Simon's glasses, as he began trembling at the memory. "Then, I realized, how QUIET it was. Besides that cry, there wasn’t any sound. Anywhere. In the middle of an entire metropolis. Just the wind.

"I called out for Marcy, and... Marcy was *there,* but..." He shook his head aimlessly, then tossed back the rest of the whiskey. "She gave up *everything,* just to try to help ME. They *all* did. And now... now they're all DEAD, and it's all my fault..."

Star said nothing, as tears began wobbling down his fellow Simon's face.

"There aren't any words for a hurt like that," Star finally said. "And I won't pretend there are."

"Then you're ahead of most of 'em out there," Simon said bitterly, flailing an arm towards the rest of the room. "Don't think I can't hear them talk. There goes Old Man Simon, off to the bar, again. Even takes his kid with him, sometimes. How pathetic can you get."

"Hey." was all Star said, holding out both hands. "You need one of..."

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Simon was already tackling him, hugging Star like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry. Oh my glob, you're being so nice to me, and here I'm just getting my messed-upness all over *you,* too, I'm so sorry..." Simon blubbered through his tears.

"You're hurting," Star replied, patting Simon's back. He could smell the twinge of unknown days with no showers, through a sharp liquor stench. "I can't say I've been where you're at, exactly. But there's a very similar city I can see, on the map *I've* pieced together."

He waited until Simon pulled away before asking, "You mind if I tell you a story?"

Simon snuffled, then said, "Go for it."

"Thank you," said Star, bowing to his doppelganger, and began.

"His name was 'Al,' he told me. It'd been a few days since he’d been kicked out by his parents, for falling in love with a boy instead of a girl."

Star shook his head at the memory. "I would've done *anything* to help him. So I did. I used my magic on him. Scribbled out a sigil, burned it... and gave him a bit of my luck."

He paused a moment before he continued. "Al was so happy, when he called me, later that night. Said he'd won five hundred dollars, from the lottery ticket he bought."

Simon blinked, not understanding. "So you helped him?"

"I thought I did," Star replied calmly. He glanced away as he added, "The next call I got was from the police. They'd found the business card I gave Al, in his pockets. He drank himself to death, that same night."

"Ah," Simon said, and cleared his throat, sitting suddenly ramrod-upright on his bar stool. "That’s... yeah, that's a lot."

"It was," Star replied, nodding. "It's not the same as what you've been through. But it was enough to stop me from using my magic on anyone but myself, ever again."

He clasped a hand over Simon's. "That’s the thing, though. You can be doing everything right, have the absolute best of intentions in mind... and still get the worst possible result."

Simon's lip wibbled, as he looked Star in the eyes. It was like seeing into the other man's unprotected soul.

"That doesn't mean you're a bad person," he could hear Star saying. "Sometimes, that's just how life *happens.* And you keep going, anyhow."

Simon's gaze flicked away, not sure why he felt so intimidated by this man who looked so much like him.

"You're ME. Aren't you," he stated.

"I'm a *version* of you. One who considers himself to be very, very lucky." Star sipped at his water thoughtfully, continuing, "I've had an awful lot of awful things happen in my life, but... there's always something amazing that happens, too. People I meet. Things I learn…"

He set the water glass down, now that it was empty. "It's worth it, I can say. Eventually. Even if it always seems to take longer than it should."

Simon's mouth pursed to a thin line, as he stared into his whiskey glass.

"I won't say it all balances out, but... life sure never gets *boring,* either," Star added. "I have my stories I can tell. Sometimes they help other people know they're not alone. And I'm happy with that."

Star reached for Simon's hand again. "In the grand scheme of things, I may not be able to do much to help anyone out. But. That’s what I can do, so... I try doing it, when I can."

Simon's hands met Star's– both of them, this time, though Simon's were still shaking.

"I offer my little spark to folks's candles. And hope they see the sparkle inside themselves. Enough to keep going."

Simon let Star's words land.

He stared off into space for a few moments, then mumbled, his voice low and wavering, "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don’t have the answer to that. Only *you* do," Star said, looking down at both their empty glasses. "But it looks like you've been hiding from yourself. Maybe for a while now. And you're not going to find any answers at the bottom of that glass, no matter how many times you look."

Star raised an eyebrow, leaning in to add quietly, "I'd know. I had to quit drinking, myself, after my grandmother died, and I got lost for a while. Was way too good at it."

"You got *lost,*" said Simon with a weak chuckle.

"Sure. Everyone does, sometimes. I took the scenic route, for a few years." Star gave Simon's hands a squeeze. "It's never too late to get yourself back on your own path, again."

Simon covered his face with his hands, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

"Not saying it won't be *hard,*" Star pointed out. "Sometimes, getting back from being lost is the hardest thing you'll ever do. But I *do* think it's worth it. From where I'm sitting now, anyhow."

He leaned back upon his seat. "But, I think I've talked long enough."

As Star hopped down from the bar stool, he pointed right at Simon's heart, tapping his stretched-out black sweatervest. "If you don't remember anything else, just know this much… Someone else out there loves you, a whole awful lot. And he hopes you'll get home safe. Whenever that ends up being. I'm not ever gonna grade you. Okay?"

"Okay," Simon repeated, new tears starting down his reddened cheeks. He rubbed his arm over his face, smearing snot all along his shirt sleeve. "Th..thank you."

"Thank you, for listening," Star replied, giving his shoulder one last pat. "I should let you get back to what you were doing. Take care of yourself, and the little one when you can, okay?"

Simon watched Star walk out from the bar. There was a flash from down the hallway, and then… the sounds around him came back to his attention.

The bartender, choosing not to comment on whatever had just happened, only pointed to Simon's shot glass, and offered, "Another one?"

"Uh," Simon replied. "You know, I… I think I'm good for the day. I'll have some water, please.

"Er. No ice," he added quickly.

The bartender obeyed with a nod.

#star simon au #simon petrikov mpreg #cw implied mpreg #cw death #cw alcohol #cw bad end #cuz that's how things go sometimes

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canisalbus · 2 months

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Speaking of paintings, I always imagined Machete's assassination (or, how they found him) to be something like The Death of Marat (amazing painting and last year I even got to see it in person.)

(The Death of Marat by Jacques-Louis David, 1793)

Really cool that you got to see it in person!

For some reason Machete gets compared to this painting quite often, especially if there's a bath involved. Even if he's just. Chilling in the tub, very much not dead.

#in this painting the wound is really downplayed you might not even notice it at first #for a murder it's a very placid and romantized scene #I think Machete's assassination (in the bad ending at least) was way more chaotic and messy #the first strike didn't kill him instantly and he had enough time to try to get away #answered #anonymous #death #cw death #death mention #cw death mention

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emelinstriker · 8 months

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{Twice As Bad AU} Wukong & Macaque ♤ Even Little Things

Art drawn by me.

My little take on @semisolidmind's TAB AU due to peeps asking me to cover that as an X Reader ever since that one doodle I once did for it.

As usual, tweaked some things a bit in the AU just for the sake of the plot- And also cuz I haven't really kept track of all the canon things in the AU, so I'm mostly just using the basic premise of the AU and added/removed some things for the story twist, humor and all that. So please don't take it as canon y'all-

Also, I speedran this within three days to post it earlier than planned, so... Happy birthday, Semi! Have 4k words of ya bois as birthday gift, I guess. :D

TW: Descriptions of death and gore

[TL;DR] Monke have 'yummy' berry if customer have coin.

♤ ~ Emotional Mix ~ ♤

It started out as a regular day at the market for you.

You owned a little stall where you would sell berries you and your little monkey friends collected. You kept on insisting that you wanted to collect them on your own, but the two ginger-furred and dark-furred monkeys just wouldn't leave you alone. Though, their kindness and willingness to help you did prove useful in the end. You managed to garner a lot of berries by the end of the day. How they managed to get them all? You would never know. You didn't exactly question it much either due to how many you were able to sell. Sales were pretty good today as well... And as per usual, your two little monkeys were practically guarding you and your stall, which you found really adorable. They looked like two innocent and fluffy puppies looking out for their beloved owner. And their cuteness did definitely contribute to your berry selling success.

Though, while they were pretty quiet and polite towards your customers that were just there to buy berries, there were some they truly didn't like to have around you at all... More specifically, those who showed even the slightest bit of romantic interest towards you.

Especially that farmer boy.

God, they really hated that guy for some reason.

Even if they just saw him walk across the street, far away from where you actually were, they would already start letting out aggressive sounds of pure hatred. Meanwhile you would just awkwardly wave at the poor guy. Though, besides the few customers that had interest in you, your monkeys were pretty well-behaved when you were around. You found it adorable how they would even help fill up tiny bags with berries like little helpers. And if they weren't doing that, they would either sit or lie around on your stall or cling onto you while you worked. They especially loved body contact with you, so they mostly clung onto you. All they wanted in return for their help was your affection, oddly enough. No snack either, just affection. You only had to give them little kisses or cuddle them a bit and they were already melting in your arms. Another cute thing they would do whenever you were selling berries was to give you gifts...

Well, it certainly sounds cute in theory.

However, their gifts ranged from not only some simple shiny rocks and flowers, but also to literal little animals and insects... Which were usually alive whenever they were the dark-furred monkey's gift, but were most definitely always dead in the ginger-furred monkey's case. Of course, you would still praise them as to not upset them... And while they were highly aware of your discomfort whenever they brought in animals and insects, they just ignored it. Then again, you never thought much of it since in your eyes, they were just monkeys. Just two simple, silly, little monkeys. Why would they respect your discomforts when they couldn't even talk?

Well, despite your little monkeys not being able to talk to you, they did seem to understand you. Which felt really nice, considering most in the village either didn't trust you or enjoy talking to you... So their company was very endearing and appreciated.

Especially in certain moments...

"What do you mean you're out of berries?" A tough-looking man asked, definitely pissed off. So you tried to stay calm and defuse the situation as best as you could.

"Sorry, sir... But all berries are already sold out. The last batch was sold a few minutes ago. B-But you could come back tomorrow and-" "I don't have the fucking time to come back tomorrow! I need those berries now!" He rudely cut you off.

"I, uh, understand, sir, but-" "I know you still have berries in stock! I can see a bunch in the basket over there!" He cut you off again, yelling in your face as he pointed towards the basket behind you. You grimaced a little in discomfort.

"Sir, those are berries I'll deliver after work to a woman who already paid for them-" "Then give her that money back or some shit, will ya?! Just give me those damn berries instead already!" The man looked like he would jump behind the stall's counter any moment now to launch himself at you, when you suddenly heard very familiar growling coming from behind the man... He turned around, only to see two small monkeys glaring furiously at him.

The man scoffed. "The fuck are those doing here? Are those your pets or some shit?" You gave your monkeys worried glances, not wanting them to get involved and get hurt. This man looked tough and would have no problem getting rid of two little monkeys...

But your monkeys were different.

Instead of backing down, they slowly approached the man aggressively on all fours. Their tails were dangerously swaying behind them as they snarled at him... While they could tolerate the presence of customers in most cases, this was one of the few cases where they really were just out to murder. All they needed was an opening...

Wukong then seemingly stopped snarling for a moment as he whispered something extremely quietly, to which Macaque nodded. While Macaque continued to aggressively approach the man, his brother gave the man one last glare before running up to you instead, launching himself at you. Startled, you stumbled back a bit as he jumps at you. And with seemingly extreme strength, he managed to knock you down to the ground behind your stall. Your stall obscured your vision of the man and your other monkey. You groaned a bit in pain before you looked at the ginger-furred monkey, who just smiled at you with a love-struck gaze. He didn't attack you or anything, his tail just swayed happily as he nuzzled you. You, of course, were confused by his sudden mood change. "Why did you tackle me-"

Then, you heard a scream from the man for just a split second before the other monkey's snarling suddenly stopped. Everything was silent. Suspicious and confused, you held the ginger-furred monkey against your chest while he continued to happily nuzzle into you. You then stood back up and looked towards the front of your stall... The man was gone. But the dark-furred monkey was still there, sitting contently like a good boy where the man once was. His tail happily swayed behind him as well as if nothing ever happened just now...

The man's decomposing body was found hanging from a tree by his own guts in the forest a few days later. According to those who found his corpse, his body was completely mangled. His face was seemingly ripped or mauled off, displaying his skull with his eyes missing. His rib cage seemed to have been crushed and his abdomen was torn wide open. Part of his organs were missing, and a single bloody peach was found buried inside the body. His tongue was ripped off and literally stuffed down his throat, as if it were there to tell him to forever keep quiet... Not to mention all his broken bones that were not just simply snapped, but crushed into pieces. The entire scene was extremely horrifying for those that saw his remains. Some sort of brutal demon must've killed him. Yet the reasons were unknown as to why this man would be murdered in such a gruesome way... What did the man think in his last moments? Was he immediately dead or was he tortured alive? The people of the village seemed to mentally point their fingers in your direction, however. Especially due to how you were one of the last people they saw him with.

That was just one of the strange happenings surrounding you and your monkey companions.

Something else the villagers noticed was the other rather recent murder cases looked similar, though less brutal. Whoever, or whatever, killed the other people also killed this man. But the other victims usually only had their abdomens be ripped open and their organs ripped out, for whatever reason... Though, they all were found with a single bloody peach inside them.

And of course, villagers kept you in mind as a major suspect. Which was sort of understandable since all those people were people who basically told you to get lost and fuck off, telling you that you don't belong in their community. The more people suspected you to be at least involve in the serial murders, the less people would stop by your berry stall. Which in turn made you feel sad and confused... Did you do something wrong?

Your two little monkeys noticed your guilt and self-doubt creeping in, and they didn't like seeing you beat yourself like this over whatever those other humans thought of you.

Thus, they decided now was the time to make themselves known and 'save' you from this unworthy village.

And what better way than to go out with a bang?

So, they decided to help 'sell' some berry bags personally and directly. They packed them up themselves again and snuck into peoples' houses, taking some of their coins and leaving a bag of berries everywhere they went. The two of them were extremely helpful. They came back to you with coins everytime, so you assumed they managed to sell their little bags to happy customers. All would be fine again soon...

...At least, that's what you had hoped.

News spread fast in the village.

A death was reported in the east.

Another further north.

Few more in the west.

The southern area seemed to have multiple dead people already...

People were dropping dead like flies everywhere within the span of just a single day...

The entire panic rising within the village only seemed to enhance your uneasiness as well. You were mostly outside around your stall after all... What if this so called serial killer found you? Or perhaps there was a deadly virus going around and you shouldn't even be outside in the first place...

You held your monkeys close in worry as you feared for their and your own safety, standing behind your stall once more. While you were feeling uneasy, your monkey companions only seemed all too happy and content with no care in the world as you let them nuzzle into you with cute little chirps. Sighing, you looked at all the berries you still haven't managed to sell. Feeling a little hungry, you decided to eat a few of the berries you had. After taking one of the berry bags the monkeys had packed, you grabbed a few of the berries and were about to eat them.

Suddenly, the ginger-furred one stopped you by quickly switching from clinging onto your chest to clinging onto the arm that was holding the berries, stretching his body from your arm up to your hand to clasp his own little hands around it, keeping you from eating the berry. He looked at you with seemingly slightly concerned eyes, shaking his head as he let out quiet noises, which sounded like he was begging you not to eat them. It was strange how strong this little monkey actually was... His tiny hands were preventing you from even opening your hand. The dark-furred monkey also seemed to join in on stopping you from consuming those berries as he nuzzles into your neck, wrapping his tail around the arm that's holding the bag. The sight must've looked funny to others if they were passing by, to be honest.

Confused, you decide to just listen to the monkeys and not eat the berries... Maybe they were just upset that you'd wanna unpack and eat the berries they had so nicely packed for customers earlier. Which would make sense.

Another day had passed and...

Where was everyone?

You set up your bags at your stall and were patiently waiting for someone, anyone, to even just walk past. However, everything was silent for a few hours. Dead silent for a village that had a bunch of gossip going around. Not even your monkey companions were following you this morning, oddly enough. This only added to your fear since those little guys were like your comfort pets.

Another hour passed and finally some sound was heard in the distance. Were those... screams?

Now more on edge than ever, you decided that maybe you should sit this day out on trying to sell... You didn't exactly want to lose your life to some massacre or virus after all. A bit panicked by the scream, you quickly tried to pack up the little berry bags into a basket. But as you were starting to pack up, you could hear a male voice fake coughing to grab your attention. Startled by the sudden noise after all the dead silence, you almost dropped one bag before you turned to face the person in front of your stall... Or, uh... Monkey...?

This dark-furred monkey seemed familiar... Maybe he was related to one of your little monkey friends?

He smirked at you as he leaned against the stall, his tail swaying slowly behind him. "Hey there, sugarplum. Did I arrive a bit too late? My brother and I heard you sell delicious berries here."

You waved your hand dismissively, nervous as you never had a monkey, or rather a demon in this case, being a customer. The nickname was also making you a little nervous, but maybe he was just one of those people who give everyone they see nicknames. "Oh- No, no- You're not late- I just... Didn't think I would get any customers today..."

He leaned in a bit closer to you. "Oh? Why's that? Aren't your berries said to be the best in this village though?"

"Uh, well... Yes, but usually some customers would've already bought some at this time in the day... But you'd be my first customer today." You admitted sheepishly. He only seemed to grin... You didn't know he could hear your anxious heartbeat. He knew you didn't exactly feel safe. But you were still trying to be calm and polite towards even a dangerous-looking demon him. Which he found cute. That's when his ear twitched as he heard something you couldn't hear, making his grin turn into a more... seductive one.

"I'm actually not here to buy any of those bags you're offering. I am interested in one specific berry from your stall, however."

You blinked at him in confusion. "...What berry? They're all pretty much the same?"

"Not all of them." He responded. The simian chuckled as he looked at you with intent. "There's one berry my brother and I have been keeping a close eye on for quite a while now, and we want to claim that berry for ourselves... It simply sticks out. Just like a delicious peach amongst a bunch of mediocre berries. My brother's words, not mine. But I do have to agree with him on this one." He then leaned in a little closer to you, still giving you this sort of seductive grin. "And as an honorable and kind merchant, surely you would love to fulfill a customer's simple request... Right?"

His deep voice made him sound so smooth, but his words and the way he said them also just sounded... Off... This was not a regular exchange for food, that much you could tell. But before you could reply, you heard another voice coming from behind you. "Well, well, well... How's business? Did I miss anything, Macaque?" You turned around in shock, noticing a ginger-furred simian behind you. Some sort of red and gold staff is held loosely on his shoulder as he smirked. Though, the thing that set you off the most were the clear blood spots on his fur, his clothes, and especially on one side of his staff...

"Nah, you didn't miss a thing. I was just mentioning what we wanted to 'buy'." Macaque responded with a shrug as he leaned back a bit, though still resting with his arms on the stall's counter.

They could clearly tell you were scared. And of course, as your beloved monkeys, they wanted to make you feel as comfortable around them as possible. So, maybe a little bit of an introduction would make things easier. The ginger-furred monkey raised his free hand with a little wave, smiling kindly as if he didn't just murder humans a few minutes ago. "Hey, peaches! My name is Sun Wukong. Legendary Monkey King and Great Sage Equal To Heaven! Also strongest demon you'll ever see as well as the most sexy monkey in existence- Aaaanyway, this is my sworn brother, and second-in-command, the Six-Eared Macaque." He said to break the ice, gesturing towards the dark-furred monkey as well.

"Just call me Macaque. And him Wukong." Macaque added with a bit of a shrugging hand motion. Then he moves his hand just enough to point towards his brother with a taunting, shit-eating grin. "It's much easier than Six-Eared Macaque and whatever the fuck long ass title Wukong decided to give himself." He grins smugly, to which Wukong huffs in a rather arrogant way.

"Well, excuse me for having achieved more in life than you." Wukong retorted.

"Great Sage Equal To Heaven was not an achievement if you practically begged for it."

"But Warlord was."

"You didn't even name that title in your introduction though??"

"I didn't wanna make them feel more anxious than they already are, okay??"

"And since when are you the most sexy monkey in existence?? That's bullshit and you know it."

"Hey! That title may be a tiny bit opinion-based, but it is an accurate description of me."

"Could you stop letting your ego go to your head for like five minutes? I'm still the brains in this duo. And the brain doesn't need the muscle's ego surrounding it."

"...Okay, now this is getting fucking personal, you goddamn hypocrite-"

To be honest, you weren't exactly scared at this moment anymore, just confused and uncomfortable due to them arguing and practically being so close to just claw at each other's throats over petty titles. Macaque rolled his eyes at Wukong before turning back to you, trying to get back on topic to avoid Wukong getting pissed at him over nothing again. "So about that 'peach amongst berries' talk-" Suddenly, Wukong quickly wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his blood-stained armor with a grin. His annoyed mood immediately flipped like a switch to a more love-struck one again.

"Oh? Did our peaches agree? Was my pick-up line enough to convince them~? Did you tell them about the real us yet?" He hummed. You grimaced a bit in discomfort at him suddenly touching you so casually. Especially because you could tell he reeked of death... Was... Was he the one who killed those people...? The more you thought about it, the more connections clicked in your mind... The peach references, the way people described the latest murder of the man who yelled at you, the fact that for some reason it's all connected to literal demon monkeys...

Your heartbeat rose up, making Macaque smirk. "Well, not verbally... But I think they're starting to understand what's happening on their own. What a smart human we've picked!"

"Y-You- Wh- Wait what-" You stammered out in shock, definitely now more scared than ever before. Wukong quickly picked you up into his arms after making his staff seemingly disappear into thin air. His strength was no joke either as he clearly didn't struggle at all in holding you. His tail was happily moving behind him in excitement.

"C'mon, Macaque. We got what we came here for." Wukong stated as he walked a bit further away from your stall. You attempted to escape by trying to move out of his grip, but despite barely even gripping onto you, you were simply just flailing around a bit, clearly unable to escape your cage that were his arms. He simply ignored your attempt at an escape as he smiled contently, giving you a very familiar love-struck look...

That reminded you of your little monkey companions. Your heartbeat spiked and Macaque took notice. He raised an eyebrow at you in confusion because your heartbeat didn't change much since you started flailing in Wukong's arms. "Is something wrong, (Y/N)?"

You stopped in shock, looking at the dark-furred monkey with wide eyes. "W-Wh... H-How do you know my name?"

Ah. Right, right. You didn't know yet.

Macaque chuckled as he cupped your cheek with you still in his brother's arms. "Well, you see... We sorta picked up your name during the weeks, or I guess months at this point, when we were helping you around the village. You know, packing up berries and all that... We even made sure the latest batches had the freshest type of toxin for the best quality!" He grinned maliciously as he crossed his arms. Your mouth hung agape in shock as some tears gathered in your eyes...

"You... Y-You were those two monkeys...?" You asked quietly in disbelief... All those deaths... If they put those toxic berries in the bags you were paid for... Didn't that automatically make you a form of accomplice in their schemes? And you got paid for basically allowing them to kill all these people. You started to sob, "...Oh my god... No, no, no... This- T-This can't be- I-I would never h-help... kill- I-I d-didn't mean t-to-"

Wukong then leaned his head down a bit to kiss your forehead with a faint blush and a soft smile. "Shhh... It's fine, peaches. Don't cry. You can just put all the blame on us if that helps." He said quietly, trying to sound comforting. The warlord clearly didn't care about all the dead people, he only cared about wanting to see you smile. He summoned some form of cloud and hopped onto it with you still trapped in his arms. Then he gave his second-in-command a malicious grin. "Macaque, I'll take them home. Sweep through the village one last time. If anyone is still alive, you know what to do."

Macaque returned his own malicious grin as he bowed a little. And with his bow, a shadow-like portal opened up beneath him, swallowing him into the ground. Meanwhile, you could only helplessly watch as Wukong made his cloud fly high up into the skies at pretty high speeds. If you managed to escape his grasp now, you would just be dead. Looking back towards your village, you could see bodies lying outside, most had no blood as they probably died to the berries, but some were clearly attacked earlier by Wukong... You also witnessed houses collapsing within giant flames...

Even the sky above the village itself seemed to look doomed from afar...

You could even still see another human begging for help before being tortured by Macaque's shadows...

You were just silently crying as Wukong took you away to Flower Fruit Mountain, which would soon become your new home. Whether you would like it or not. You were theirs now. And it all simply started with some small berries...

If only you had known that even the littlest of things could snowball you down to hell.

[ Masterlist ]

#twice as bad au #bad end wukong #jttw x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #jttw sun wukong #jttw monkey king #lmk x reader #six eared macaque x reader #six eared macaque fanart #macaque fanart #sun wukong fanart #lego monkie kid x reader #emotional mix #cw: gore #yandere behavior #monkey king x reader

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cobaltcreations · 2 days

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Me and my partner @the-good-ol-art-corner collaborated on this AWESOME poster for one of our favorite Bendy Aus @toontiedterror by @dictatortirah !! I am in LOVE with how it came out and I am so excited to see how this story and world develops!!

I put so many details into this, it is absolutely silly, but I had a swell time doing them. Those headshots on the missing posters belong to the staff from our own Bendy project @howdy-folks-its-showtime and we didn't even intend to make two versions. But I put so much into the background... I just had to make a version without the foreground to show it off <3

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amaranth · 2 years

Photo

#the quality is so bad but this is FUNNY skdjfn he gets it<3 i love the smile at the end #gerard way #my chemical romance #mcr #ee #gifs #flashing cw #flashing lights cw #mcrtacoma

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mimithealpaca · 7 days

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Kacchan's 40th Birthday - PART 1

PART 2

3 out of 18!

asdfadsfa

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nemkero · 7 months

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⚠️ // FLASHING LIGHTS, BLOOD

liar dancer!

#test for ae #yippie #idk if i like this or not #but whatever #based off the bad ending #and sunnys ultimate failure to accept reality #cw flashing lights #flashing lights #cw flash #omori #omori fanart #omori sunny #omori basil

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freezingvri3zen · 2 years

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possessed children amirite

#eyestrain cw #toh spoilers #gravity falls #amphibia #the owl house #art #vri3zen originals #dipper pines #bipper #marcy wu #darcy #darcy wu #hunter noceda #helos #i had no idea how to do bipper's silhouette lmao #oh yeah and #bad end friends #i guess

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starflungwaddledee · 5 months

Note

of all the characters that have (or can!) be controlled by morpho in your AU, who would you say is the most powerful (you can't say Morpho Knight himself, that's cheating)

"you can't say morpho knight/galacta knight" not a problem because i wasn't gonna. greatest warrior in the galaxy still gets his ass handed to him by someone on the regular

dreamless reaper.

this would be like... a profoundly bad end of the chrysalis au. i think morpho would probably only be able to get kirby if it had burned through all the others, and i just don't think there'd be a coming back from this one tbh

you can also see that unlike with morpho dee this one is way less fragile; proper pauldrons and shoes, wings aren't full of holes. morpho dee was purposefully expendable because taking bandee was never the actual goal

#bad end of a bad end of a possession au. only way to get there.#is my vision with the wings+antenna shape clear.. please please please hope this is clear #forever thinking about the tags for 'biblically accurate kirby' that i got on the teaser for this one #i think it maybe reads a little less like it in colour but honestly that was the right energy. be not afraid and all #dreamless reaper #chrysalis au #my art #cw flashing #cw angst

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starry-bi-sky · 7 months

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Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college?

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now.

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it.

They’re still not sure if they should let him go.

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in.

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves.

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being.

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things.

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.)

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad.

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air.

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to.

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud.

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words.

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil.

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died.

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.)

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”)

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.)

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.)

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core.

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help.

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.”

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.)

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.)

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples.

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself.

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them.

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own.

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop.

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story.

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.)

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest.

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.”

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders.

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.”

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.”

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.)

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face.

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time.

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air.

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise.

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one.

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything.

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call.

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?”

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame.

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth.

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.”

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.”

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs.

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem.

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.”

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.”

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it.

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.”

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth.

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him.

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.)

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.”

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin.

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better.

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can.

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?”

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks.

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall.

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.”

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm.

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches.

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood.

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.”

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider.

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise.

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle.

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad.

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham.

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite.

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune.

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple.

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy.

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes.

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it.

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever.

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state.

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cw swearing #cw smoking #im calling them short stories bc if i call them chapters i might intimidate myself #fun fact every single chapter will have a crane wives lyric on it i am DETERMINED #i hope yall are subscribed to this on ao3 bc i almost didnt post this on tumblr #the fentons being good parents were a surprise to me too but also i never really planned on them being BAD parents #okay so they appear as negligent in the first post but we'll just call that a plothole #i had the idea that danny was the angrier one out of the duo earlier today and it felt like an epiphany #there's no guarantee of a next part but yk immm kinda hoping there is #on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was #'make it feel like a tv show where the seemingly inconspicuous and friendly character has something sinister up their sleeve'#WE know that danny's not inconspicuous in the least he's been thinking of this murder for the last five years. but nobody but red hood know #i had to come up with a in-story reason why danny doesnt kill the joker NOW but my out-of-story excuse is: there'd be no tension otherwise #its about the BUILD UP. Its about the RISING TENSION. Its about KNOWING that danny is planning to kill the Joker but you dont know WHEN #its about knowing that something is going to explode but never knowing when #i made the doc yesterday and spent my entire pluralism for educators class going thru the crane wives albums and looking up the lyrics and #matching them to the *checks doc* 18 short story prompts i have prepared #i am still missing one :((#its the tim and danny story and i have NOTHING PLANNED FOR THEM. i cant think of a thing for them to bond over :(( so i cant match a CW son #even DICK has a story and that was also a surprise #my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world #aND danny slapping his door like a used car salesman and going 'now people wont ask why i have a creepy fucking door in my studio aptm :)'

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mosaickiwi · 1 month

Text

Fall Unto Me (part two)

Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.

You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.

Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.

So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.

“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon.

You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.

“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.

You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”

“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"

The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.

Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.

“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.

“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall.

Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.

You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.

Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek.

A dull ache began in your back.

You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.

Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you.

“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.

Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”

“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.

It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.

Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.

The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason.

Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.

The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.

You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.

He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.

Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #o boi #heyyyy angelll #it's me the devil #angel!angel says feeling feelings feels bad!!!#except when it's good!!!#this was in rewrite hell sorry #the original thing was 3 parts but i cut a lot cause some bits didn't hit right in my brain #i am my own worst enemy #i mean i'm super happy with how it ends here bc ominous yearning and longing angst?? love her #if i decide to write more it'd be the absolute last one #and then infodump #or i could infodump now teehee!! shout out to the people in my askbox waiting for 4 months pls forgive meeeee

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canisalbus · 3 months

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Vasco having nightmares like that of Machete dying, but they happen only after Machete dies in the Olden Days timeline. he wakes up and Machete is still really dead.

Oh now you're just being cruel ´<`

#answered #anonymous #death #cw death #it would be kind of. ironic? harrowing? if he got recurring nightmares about watching him die #after not being present when it actually happened #in the bad ending at least

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afewproblems · 1 year

Text

Part Three Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings AU

Part One, Part Two, read on Ao3 Here

Thank you everyone for your patience, I am splitting up this last part into two (I know, I know - I'm sorry!!)

***

The drive home after dropping Robin off was long. She had offered to stay the night again but Steve insisted she go home unless she wanted her parents to throw them and impromptu engagement party after she eventually graduates --Steve still winces when he thinks about Mrs.Buckley cooing about what sweet babies they would make when she thought he had left the other night.

He pulls into the empty driveway and shuts off the Beemer’s engine; it feels criminal for the sun to still be at full force at this time but at least he's been able to avoid the heat for most of the day.

And say what you will about the Harringtons, but at least they had invested in AC before skipping town without him.

Once inside Steve hangs his keys on the hook beside the door and heads upstairs to change. He just wants to crawl into bed, hide himself under the covers and sleep after the day he's had.

Robin did her best to give him a pep talk after their run in with Eddie at Family Video but it had mostly consisted of her brainstorming how to shave his head without implicating themselves.

It made Steve laugh despite arguing that Eddie's hair was his third best feature and Steve is fairly certain he would be second in line to avenge it next to Eddie.

Steve throws on an old pair of pajamas and a ratty Hawkins high t-shirt from the floor beside his laundry basket. He sniffs it dubiously and throws it on, it could go another day without a wash --it's just him tonight anyway.

Alone again.

Steve makes his way downstairs and debates a frozen pizza or the leftovers in the Tupperware Mrs.Henderson had forced into his hands before he left their house the other night.

He'd picked up a lot of recipes from Claudia and learned different ways to stretch an ingredient across multiple meals or even make a single meal last multiple days -with his parents gone so often it had been crucial for him to learn. Steve isn't even sure where they are at this point or if they know about the earthquakes.

A small part of him hopes they don't know, because if they did and still haven't called or come back to Hawkins to check on him….

Steve quells that line of thought and tosses it into the little box in the corner of his mind.

Don't think about it.

Steve rolls his shoulders and opens the fridge before taking out the tupperware and grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

The sudden sound of tires crunching and an engine turning off outside has him looking towards the front entryway, it's definitely in his driveway, but he isn't expecting anyone?

Oh god…what if it's Hopper or Nancy? Another gate? If Vecna's back, they needed him.

Steve nearly drops the plate in his hands in his haste to get to the door, he manages to put it on the counter before sliding over the hardwood floor as he stumbles into the foyer.

Steve flings open the door to reveal a nervous Eddie Munson on his doorstep.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice pitched with surprise and concern, he looks around for any sign of one of the other kids, "What is it? Is it Vecna? Is anyone hurt?"

Eddie blinks, his eyebrows pop up into his scruffy bangs, "What? No, no man, it's just me".

Steve breathes out a sharp sigh of relief and lets his heart rate slowly calm down, but if it wasn't the Upside Down why the hell was Eddie here?

Contrary to popular opinion, Steve wasn't actually stupid, he knew Eddie wouldn't just be here for him, he'd made it perfectly clear that they weren't friends.

"Oh," Steve mumbles, still confused, "did you leave something here the other night?"

Eddie tilts his head slightly and his eyebrows fall into the barest furrow, "No Steve, I just, can I come inside?"

His right hand twitches once before reaching for the door frame as he steps forward.

A million questions nearly burst forth from Steve, what do you want? Did the kids put you up to this? Are you going to say it to my face this time? What do you want from me?

He wrenches them back, shoving them all into that same little box, and instead says, "yeah man," as he steps aside to let Eddie through.

Eddie grins but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the anxious feeling in Steve's gut, twisting and cold, begins to build again.

All at once Steve is incredibly aware of the fact that he's wearing pajamas and a dirty old t-shirt, he's sweaty and tired from a long day at work and he doesn't have the emotional fortitude to be told off again.

"Hey, Eddie, listen," Steve fumbles through the words, he reaches up to pinch his fingers into his eyes, "if this is about Hellfire, I'll back off, I didn’t mean to," he stops and swallows, searching for what to say.

Because, what did he even do? It's still not clear and the thought makes him want to grind his teeth.

"To like, interfere with your set up? Or, or, actually, you know what,” Steve's voice suddenly climbs in volume, "I don't know, what did I do Munson?"

Steve raises his hands from his eyes to his hair which he grips harshly with one hand while the other gestures wildly in front of him.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to Family Video,” Steve shakes his head and chews harshly on his bottom lip, “if you hate me, I don't understand why you keep coming around?"

Eddie is frozen in front of him, a ‘deer in the headlights’ look in his eye, his mouth opens once and closes, but Steve keeps going.

"I mean, was this just some kind of weird game to you? Let's see how much we can stick it to old King-Steve? I heard you that night man," his eyes begin to sting as he yells, his throat tightens and the words waver slightly at the end.

Steve grits his teeth to keep himself from speaking, from revealing more than he wants to, he hasn't felt like this since Nancy called him Bullshit in the middle of that crowded Halloween party and isn't that thought a punch to the gut.

Steve shakes his head and turns his face away to pinch his nose so harshly he worries it'll bruise.

"So," Steve whispers, letting the fight drain out of him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, "what do you want, because I am not really up for whatever this is".

Eddie isn't looking at him anymore, his face is pointed at Steve but his eyes are trained on a point on the floor between them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Unbelievable.

"Look," Steve breathes out, he reaches up and presses the fingers of his left hand into his eyes, surreptitiously wiping away any evidence of moisture, and gestures behind him at the foyer, "if you want something just spit it out, otherwise I'm tired and I'm going to bed so--"

"I'm sorry" Eddie blurts out, he takes a step closer to Steve who steps back without a thought. Eddie winces at the movement and draws his arms around himself.

Eddie seems to hesitate, his eyes dart over Steve's face and once towards the front door before his expression flattens and his shoulders square in one fluid movement.

Steve's stomach does a little swoop as he remembers that Eddie nearly sacrificed himself to save Dustin, he wonders if his face held the same expression before he cut the rope.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I," Eddie swallows audibly and shifts his weight from foot to foot, "I was so sure of something for a really long time and it made me act like an ass".

"Sure of what?" Steve says, his voice nearly a whisper.

"How much do you remember about me from school?" Eddie murmurs eventually, there's a slight tremor running through his hands which tighten their grip on the sides of his jean vest until his knuckles stain white.

Steve shakes his head, there wasn’t much, but by the time he had heard whispers of the name Munson, he had been dealing with Hargrove, and Nancy, and Dustin's attempts at rehabilitating a demo-dog --he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time to worry about some metal-head that stood on tables in the school cafeteria.

Eddie's breathing stops and starts in short shallow hitching breaths and his face grows even paler than normal, he looks like he's seconds from passing out if Steve is being honest with himself.

Fuck.

"Hey, hey Eddie, come on breathe man," Steve says sharply, he moves quickly, keeping his hands up ready to catch him, just in case, as Steve leads Eddie towards the kitchen.

He helps Eddie sit down on a stool by the counter ledge and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Steve flits around the kitchen, distracting himself with getting Eddie water and a cool damp washcloth which he drapes over the back of his neck.

Eddie lets his head droop slightly with the weight of the towel and scoffs, muttering something under his breath; Steve's hackles raise of their own accord as he steps away from him.

"I'm just trying to help man, Jesus," he bites out, resisting the impressive urge to throw the other man out. Steve leans against the wall opposite Eddie instead and scowls.

"Christ," Eddie snaps as he grabs the cloth and brings it around to wipe his face, "I said, I can't believe I thought you were a Grade-A asshole".

Steve suppresses a flinch at the title, the tightness in his chest returns at full force.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, slumping in his seat as the anger seems to drain out of him. Eddie closes his eyes, holding up the towel, "how did you know that would help?"

He reaches for the glass in front of him, the slight tremble of his fingers the only remaining sign of Eddie's panic.

Steve shrugs, a small part of him wants to tell Eddie about the Russians.

How his sense of touch almost always helped to snap him out of an episode, whether it was Robin’s small warm hand on his cheek when things got too much, or a cool wet washcloth to wipe away the sweat from his brow after a waking nightmare. It was grounding, bringing him back to the present quicker than any other method he and Robin have tried in the last year or so since recovering from their time underneath Starcourt.

Steve’s not quite ready for that conversation though.

Eddie's watching, analyzing him the way Robin does sometimes and Steve realizes he must have been quiet for awhile, Eddie’s big brown eyes trace over Steve questioningly, but he keeps his mouth shut for now.

"You want to talk about it?" Steve says slowly, changing the subject. He half expects Eddie to tell him to shove it and get up from the stool to leave, pretending this conversation never took place.

He doesn't though.

Instead Eddie drops the towel on the counter and brings both of his hands to his face. He sits there, hunched for almost a minute solid before letting them drop back into his lap.

Eddie doesn't look at Steve as he starts to speak.

"I've lived with my uncle for a very long time," he says softly, the words almost too quiet for Steve to make out at first, "I moved in with him just before highschool".

Eddie swallows and licks his lips, "I told you a little bit about my dad already yeah?"

He raises his eyes to finally look at Steve, who nods again. It feels wrong to speak, like he would be interrupting.

"Well, he wasn't arrested till after I was in Hawkins, but I don't think I really felt safe until the day Wayne got that call".

Steve's stomach abruptly falls into his shoes.

Sure, Eddie's story about learning to hot wire had made Steve pause but he hadn't really thought more about that story beyond the ease with which Eddie brought the vehicle to life. He feels his chest twinge with shame this time and steps closer.

"Apparently," Eddie continues, slowly, carefully, "Billy Hargrove had taken it upon himself to tell everyone he could about me and my shitty fuckin' family".

"That uh," Eddie's wary eyes flick up at Steve once more, his expression tight, "that my dad kicked me out, woulda killed me if he could've".

Steve feels a chill roll up his spine at the words.

“And he wasn’t wrong, got all the details right somehow, even the one about me liking--" he trails off before wiping his left hand down his face while the right reaches for the towel again and begins fiddling with it.

Steve makes a noise, something soft and understanding, he takes a step closer to the counter, halting as Eddie looks up with open panic.

"But," Eddie continues with watchful eyes, "up until a few hours ago, I thought…you had done that".

And that is the last straw.

Steve doesn't think this time when he moves, he steps up to Eddie and before he can even open his mouth or flinch Steve has him wrapped in his arms.

It's awkward with Eddie still seated on the stool, his face pressed into Steve's collarbone, but he’s tense and Steve knows he's stopped breathing altogether.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Steve murmurs into the top of Eddie's wild hair, and he is. Steve knows exactly what it's like to have a dad that uses violence to get his way, that screams first and asks questions later.

Eddie shakes his head once, an incredulous expression pulls at his brow as he leans back slightly to look Steve up and down once more before he grins sharply.

"Yeah well," Eddie hums, "I'm sure he wasn't planning on having a fag for a kid".

Steve pulls away abruptly, but keeps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, his face briefly twisting into a harsh scowl. Steve doesn't catch the terror that flits across Eddie's face as he stands up to his full height.

"Don't call yourself that," Steve says harshly, "and don't use that word around Robin and the kids".

He lets go of Eddie entirely, and begins to pace, "Your dad is a piece of shit, who didn't deserve you and Billy Hargrove is lucky he's dead," Steve growls lowly, he takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose, he needed to calm down.

Like he said, Billy was dead, and the senior Munson was in some prison somewhere where he couldn't get to Eddie anyway, and not every problem required the use of his fists, Robin's words echo in his ear.

"What?" Eddie blurts out, surprise painting his face. He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at Steve as though he's never seen him before.

But there's a fire in Steve that has been burning for three years, ever since he tried to apologize to Jonathan and Nancy the very first time, and the flames burned even brighter a year ago when he stopped to take in Robin's pale, desperate, face as she told him about Tammy.

"And I know Hawkins is shit, trust me," Steve growls, he steps into Eddie's space again, "but there are people here who believe that there is nothing wrong with you, got it? You have us now".

"I, I know," Eddie mumbles, he's still watching Steve with something akin to awe in his eyes but it disappears as quickly as Steve spots it.

"Thank you," Steve says eventually, "for telling me, sorry if I freaked you out just now".

It's quiet in the kitchen for a beat, the only noise is the steady tick of the large wall clock beside the pantry and the hum of cicadas from outside the kitchen window Steve had forgotten to close that morning.

Steve nervously chews his lip, he's ruined it again, his second attempts at being cool about someone coming out to him even worse than the first. Robin had been nice about it at the time -and admittedly neither of them could quite remember the bulk of the conversation, but he does remember telling Robin her first crush was a dud and sounded like a dying Muppet.

So, he was two for two.

"You're sorry?" Eddie finally croaks, his eyes are larger than Steve has ever seen him and his chest stutters once as he breathes rapidly.

Steve reaches for the discarded cloth on the counter just to keep his hands from reaching for Eddie.

"You're sorry?" Eddie says again, his voice barely a whisper, "you're unbelievable is what you are".

Oh.

Steve sighs and blinks once, twice, before closing his eyes, "I know".

"Shut up," Eddie barks, "I'm the one who is trying to apologize and you're being so--"

"I know--"

"No! Let me fucking talk Harrington," Eddie shouts, and Steve feels his teeth click as he snaps his mouth shut.

He braces himself, better to get it all out on the table now, he thinks, let him say his piece and then they can all just move on -he can move on.

"I don't think I ever understood you, how you fit in with this whole group," Eddie mutters, his face tipped towards the floor, he brushes a handful of curls away from his face as they slide forward.

"I mean, I watched you in action, you ripped a fucking bat in half man," he laughs but his expression is shuttered, almost blank as he counts off on his ringed fingers, "you carried me out of hell, you listen to all the shit the kids say when they tell you stories, do you know how many people would just tune them out? You cooked for my uncle, you--Robin is your best friend? Robin?"

"Hey,” Steve says sharply with a glare, “layoff Robin, what are you even saying?"

"See!” Eddie throws his hands towards Steve emphatically, a wild look in his eyes,”that's what I’m talking about! Thats, it’s--okay it’s not coming out right," Eddie stands up from the stool but stays beside the counter.

He huffs out a small quiet laugh and shakes his head, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face, "you're just, you're not who I thought man".

Steve crosses his arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection and the Hawkins high logo in faded orange print,"I thought we already had this conversation?"

"Yeah well, I actually mean it this time".

"...Right,” Steve sighs tiredly, it's laughable really, just how wrong he and Robin had been.

All that time he thought they were growing closer, that Eddie had been his friend.

All those small moments over the last few months were nothing. Just two people with vastly different expectations of what they meant to one another.

Eddie’s face twists as the words tumble out at a mile a minute, "no, fuck, Steve, I can't, just--I don't," he grabs two handfuls of hair and yanks, hard, "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry, and I'm fucking it up.”

Eddie takes a deep breath before letting it all out in one smooth motion, "you're amazing, Steve, and I'm kicking myself for not seeing that before”.

He takes a step towards Steve but hesitates,spinning the rings on his fingers.

“I’m just, I’m really sorry and I hope that you can forgive me, that we can get back to where we were before?”

Steve feels himself smile mechanically, his chest tight and cold, he nods once and hears the words, 'yeah man,' leave his mouth. It's as though he's in a fog, everything feels so far away.

The smile Eddie gives him is brilliant, bright enough to light up the kitchen but Steve turns away and sweeps a tremulous hand through his hair.

"Yeah, Eds, we'll see each other around, we're good".

Eddie's smile falters slightly, but Steve is determined to end this conversation, go upstairs and crawl into bed for a millennia,

"I'll put in a good word with Mrs. Henderson," Steve continues, gesturing towards the abandoned tupperware on the counter, "I think she'd listen if I told her you guys needed a place for Dusty-Bun's club".

Eddie's face falls slightly, "What, Steve--"

"It'll be great, Claudia makes the best snacks and she honestly has a better basement than the Wheelers --but don't ever say that to Mike or you'll never hear the end of it," Steve says with a half smile as he walks towards the counter to grab the tupperware, he lifts it up to show Eddie before he reaches for the fridge door to put it away.

He's not hungry anymore anyway.

"But…" Eddie whispers, the tone catches Steve's attention but he can't look at Eddie right now, he just wants to sleep.

"I mean, you could come, you know," Eddie clears his throat and moves, the sound of fabric and shoes scuffing across hardwood makes Steve finally look up.

Eddie is beside him, his expression equal parts wary but hopeful, his big brown eyes fixed on Steve.

I thought Hell would freeze over? Steve thinks to himself angrily before biting the inside of his cheek.

They've just reached some kind of truce, Eddie apologized for fucks sake, he should just let this go.

But there is a heat now that simmers in his chest, it makes him want to scream. Steve swallows roughly and pushes the feeling down, trying his best to smother the flames into embers before they engulf him completely.

If friendship is all he is allowed, then Steve can work with that, he just has to reign things in a bit. He’s been playing fast and loose with his heart for so long and that it's become a dangerous game.

"Yeah, sure, I can," Steve mumbles tiredly, "I just have to check my schedule, Keith's been keeping me on my toes lately".

He shrugs and gives Eddie a wane smile before clearing his throat and turning away, "anyways man, I'm beat".

Steve moves towards the opposite hallway, he feels like he's escaping.

Eddie stands in the kitchen, shoulders drooped, but he nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He takes a step towards the foyer before turning sharply around.

"Harring- Steve," Eddie winces, "Steve, I also wanted to say we're sorry about the table, we didn't mean to scratch it all to hell that night and," he swallows roughly, "I can, we can chip in to…help fix it or whatever".

But Steve is already shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "it's cracked actually--"

"What?!"

"No, no," Steve cuts in, he waves his hand to sweep away the panic in Eddie's voice, "Sorry, it's been cracked for awhile, you guys didn't have anything to do with it".

Eddie deflates in obvious relief, he laughs brightly, letting the last of his nervous energy flow out in a cackle.

"Fuck man, thank God, I definitely do not have the money to fix that shit," Eddie sweeps his hands into his curls to pull them away from his face, "why's it still cracked?"

Steve shrugs, "No one's bothered with it before, easier to just leave it I guess," he breathes out sharply through his nose in something like a laugh, "I wouldn't know how to fix it if I tried, never been good at woodworking".

Steve looks back at Eddie to find him staring, his eyebrows have pinched together and gone is the smile that shone nearly as much as the rings on his hands.

"Anyway, I'll see you around man," Steve hums, he doesn't need Eddie analyzing him, seeing something in him that he shouldn't. It’s a dismissal, one that Eddie seems to take well, despite the stiffness of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'll see ya," Eddie says softly over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the kitchen, back towards the front door.

Steve waits until the door has closed, until he hears gravel under tires, until he's sure that Eddie is gone. His chest tightens once more with hot blistering anger that builds in his stomach before overflowing into his chest.

It drives him forward, the anger, the overwhelming heat building up his neck and pounding in his head, he's at the counter all of a sudden.

The plate he was going to use for supper is in his hands.

He raises it over his head and brings it down in a satisfying clash of shattered ceramic that explodes all over the hardwood.

Steve stands there, breathing raggedy in a daze.

Fuck.

The floor is covered in shards of varying sizes, he realizes belatedly he's only wearing socks but the thoughts come slow as though dragging themselves through mud.

Steve steps over the ceramic and walks to the pantry, he removes the broom and dustpan from the small hanger on the inside of the door.

Steve begins to sweep up the shards into a little pile, wincing as a few pieces here and there cut through the fabric of his socks and into the soles of his feet.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until he sees the tears drop into the pile of plate shards and dust. Steve scrubs his arm over his eyes roughly and sniffs, his lungs stutter once as he chokes out a wet cough.

"Get it together," he says sharply to himself.

Steve methodically sweeps the rest of the plate into the dustpan and walks towards the sink before opening the bottom cupboard and tipping the pan into the garbage can.

He takes off his socks and examines the bottoms, there are a few small pieces of plate but no blood -Steve counts it as a win.

Steve leaves the broom and dustpan out and walks himself and the dirty socks out of the kitchen and up the stairs back to his room, his limbs feel heavy and the steady heat that had crawled up his neck has been replaced by a bone deep exhaustion that he longs to sink into.

Steve closes his bedroom door and steps towards the bed, allowing himself to tip forward and collapse against the comforter.

It's hard to move now, everything feels sore, from the tips of his toes, and the soles of his feet, to the top of his head. It's as though someone stretched him out between their hands and twisted and twisted until there was nothing left inside of him.

He's empty and that thought is terrifying.

Steve reaches out blindly for the phone on his bedside table, he manages to snag it by the cord and narrowly avoids smacking himself in the face as the hard plastic swings into his hands. He dials the Buckley's home number by memory and waits.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mrs.Buckley, can you put Robin on?"

"Of course dear, but we are going to be having dinner soon so not too long okay?"

"Yes Mrs. Buckley,"

He waits, letting his pillow cradle the phone to his ear while the muffled background noise of the Buckley household trickles through the speaker, talking and television and laughter. It's a stark contrast to his own silent home.

"Steve?"

"Hey Bobby," he nearly whispers into the receiver, he feels himself melt into the mattress at the sound of her voice.

"Steve" Robin grumbles over the line, "I just left you like an hour ago, what's up?"

He chews on his lip and the words for a beat, considering how to even tell her, "Eddie, um, came by".

"What?!" Robin's voice squeals over the speaker and Steve almost drops the phone as he jerks it away from his ear, "what did he want? Did you let him in?"

"Yeah Bobs," he sighs tiredly, "he, he apologized--"

"Steve, we talked about this, you forgive people way too easily--"

"I know, I just…" he doesn't even know how to say it, that a rage burnt him up from the inside out until he was nothing but hollow embers and smoke.

"Robin, I was so angry,"

"Did you yell at him? What did you say?"

"No," he pushes himself up from the pillows, just catching the phone as it threatens to tumble from his shoulder, "he left, he, we talked about going back to normal, he…"

"Steve, what the hell did he say this time, you have to tell me, it's like the platonic soulmate law--"

"He didn't mean it the first time, when we talked in the Upside Down, that he thought I was a good dude, everything I thought for months has been a lie," his voice shakes as he continues, "he thought I spread this awful rumor about him back in highschool and he's never forgiven me for it, but I had no idea and I didn't do it -I know I was the fucking worst back then but Robin I promise you I didnt-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, do you want me to come over?"

"No, your mum said you had dinner right away,"

"Steve, you’re way more important than dinner, that's so lame but it's one thousand percent true and I'll come up with something better when I get to your house, I'm leaving now".

Steve smiles as Robin hangs up with a soft, ‘see you in a minute!’ and sets the phone back on the receiver, he closes his eyes and tucks his face into the pillows for just a moment.

Steve wakes with a start to the sound of feet hitting the stairs two at a time, he looks over at the red numbers on his bedside clock and squints as copper sunlight hits his face through his bedroom window. It's nearly quarter after seven now and the exhaustion that had held his limbs seems to have loosened ever so slightly.

Steve doesn't move from the bed as Robin opens his door and pads slowly across the carpet. She says nothing in greeting and crawls onto the mattress. Steve shifts slightly to let her wiggle her way in between him and the bedroom wall.

"You asshole," Robin scolds softly, but there's still a smile in her voice, "you didn't even lock your front door, anyone could have come in here".

She wraps her thin arms around him from behind and Steve feels himself melt into the embrace.

"This have anything to do with the broom and dustpan on the counter?" she continues after a beat, "you don't really strike me as the sweeping type, it was like pulling teeth getting you to do it at scoops".

"Vacuuming is better" he mumbles into his pillow.

Robin is warm behind his back, holding him steady, and he finds himself reaching for her hand draped over his chest. The easy affection soothes the remaining burn in his heart.

"I smashed a plate," Steve says so softly he can feel Robin even shuffle closer to hear him.

She's quiet a moment, but she doesn't move away. If anything, Robin seems to drape herself over his shoulder even more, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth. Steve swallows roughly and turns his face further into the pillows.

"Nothing like a good plate smash," she mumbles sagely into his ear, "I think I read that in a magazine once, buy cheap dishes so you got something to smash when things just get too much," she pauses to sit up and turn him over to face her, "or maybe it was pencils".

Steve snorts as she mimes a violent snapping motion with her hands, and finally let's himself look at her.

Robin's smiles as his eyes meet her own, but there's still a flicker of worry behind her blue ones that she can't seem to hide.

And she isn't the only one who is worried.

This wouldn't be the first time he's acted out because of his anger. Steve would be the first person to admit he has a history of impulsive behavior, throwing himself fist first into situations before he can properly think it through.

He says things in the moment he regrets later. Hell, Steve vandalized private property because he was angry with Nancy for christ sakes.

But this was different, it felt different. This scared him. It was like he had taken a backseat for a moment, disengaged from the world and came back to himself surrounded by shattered ceramic and a deep feeling of shame.

He wonders, belatedly, if this is how his father felt when he would break things, when he would scream at Steve until he was red faced and shaking, when he would slam doors and smash the flat palm of his hand into walls or dragging his heavy class ring over the previously unblemished wood surface of his grandmother's table.

It's terrifying to think about.

"You want me to stay?" Robin whispers after a beat.

Steve breathes out sharply through his nose, "I'm sure your parents would love that," he wiggles his eyebrows and attempts a lecherous wink, laughing at the squawk Robin makes.

She grabs one of the pillows and catches him with a face full of cotton batting, "Hey, for a fake boyfriend I could do worse you perv".

It starts an all out war, Steve lets her get him into a headlock before he licks all the way up the offending arm holding him in place, she lets go with a cry of, 'Gross!' and swings the pillow into his face again.

By the end of it they're both laughing so hard they can't even sit up.

"Robin," Steve says softly.

They're laying on the bed, Steve with his head on the pillow by the headboard and Robin laying with her head closest to the end. She nudges his ear with her toe and he jerks away with a squawk.

"Yeah?" Robin groans as she slides her elbows towards her head to prop her torso up to look at him.

He lets his eyes trace over her, this girl who can make him laugh no matter what, who seems to read his mind with little to no trouble, who is ready to loudly defend him whenever possible.

He loves her so much.

Steve shakes his head, a prickly static charge builds in his hair as it rubs against the pillow, "just, you're just the best person I know," he says eventually, "don't tell Dustin I said that, but I'm glad I met you".

Robin mimes pulling a zipper closed over her mouth and flicks away the metal pull. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are suspiciously shiny at the tender admission.

"You absolute goof, do you keep onions under your bed," she snarks after wiping her eyes with her hand, she takes her wet fingers and wipes them off on his pajamas.

"I'm glad I met you too, and if you want to talk about," she half shrugs and tips her head towards his bedroom door, "you know, the plate thing, I'm here".

She reaches for his ankle resting next to her elbow and gives it a squeeze, "God, all the hair on your legs, it looks like you have a second set of pants on".

"Can't even be nice to me for longer than five minutes," Steve mutters as he steals the offending leg to sit up on the bed.

"I didn't bring anything," Robin says suddenly, looking over at the glaring red numbers on Steve's alarm clock on his side table, "what's a gal gotta do for some food and some pj's?"

Steve rolls his eyes and uncrosses his legs and throws them over the side of the bed, sitting up while he's at it, "you figured out a Russian spy code with your little genius ears but you couldn't snag a change of clothes before you left?"

"Hey, you called me, I came running," Robin tells him firmly, she sits up and scooches over to sit beside him with her legs draped over the edge and their thighs pressed together.

"I know Bobby, I knew you would," he says softly as she leans her head to rest on his shoulder, the weight at his side is warm and familiar and pulls a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Steve lets his head loll to the side to rest on Robin's, his limbs loose as a tension he hadn't realized had been trapped in his shoulders flows out of him.

***

Over the next few weeks things begin to ease back into some semblance of normal.

It's not easy.

Steve ends up having to trick the kids into going to the old ice cream parlor where Eddie is waiting for them to make a separate apology for their last Hellfire meeting.

Steve insists they're fine to the four sets of disbelieving eyes that scowl at both of them, he and Eddie have buried the hack-saw and there's nothing more to say.

"It's hatchet, Steve," Dustin says with exasperation and barely concealed glee, “you buried the hatchet, sometimes I think you say these things on purpose".

"Oh Dusy-bun," Steve hums, reaching out to catch Dustin with his arm and drag him into a loose headlock, "I absolutely do it on purpose".

It's a little awkward, Will still seems a bit wary of Eddie, but Mike, Dustin, and Lucas obviously missed their Dungeon Master.

Steve can't help the clawing guilt that sits heavy in his stomach from being at the center of their little fight, but a small irritable part of him is envious of how quickly they all fall back into step with one another without missing a beat.

"This place is alright," Lucas says once they've all settled into a hideous lime green booth with their treats, "but the butterscotch is shit compared to Scoops".

He's frowning at the half eaten cup in his hands like he's tempted to toss it right then and there.

"Ice cream is ice cream," Mike scoffs with a roll of his eyes, he reaches for the cup which Lucas snatches back just out of reach from grabby fingers.

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't finish it--"

"You're practically giving it away dude, come on!"

Eddie smiles and seems to finally relax into his seat, he leans across the table closer to Steve and Dustin and whispers conspiratorially, "What the hell is scoops?"

"Remember Starcourt?" Dustin chirps around a mouthful of Rocky Road before Steve can say anything, "Steve worked there, and Robin, that's how they met".

Eddie tilts his head and frowns, his eyes pan back and forth between Dustin and Steve, "the mall that burnt down?"

Steve tenses, his right hand curls into a fist beneath the table while the little wooden spoon in his left hand threatens to snap between his fingers resting on the sticky table top.

Eddie glances at him curiously before looking back to Dustin who continues to speak, oblivious to the strangers around them.

"Oh yeah, that wasn't a fire--"

"Dustin," Steve snaps, more loudly and harshly than he intends, but it catches the teens attention. Steve shakes his head once and gestures around the shop, they're one of three full tables of people but even still, their voices have been carrying all afternoon.

Dustin has the good graces to look sheepish before scowling at the ice cream in his hands, "no one's listening--"

"Not here--" Steve manages to spit out between his teeth before all four kids are arguing at the top of their voices.

"Don't yell at Dustin!"

"No one's even in here!"

"What, we can't even talk about this with each other now?"

"Fuck off Steve--"

Steve almost laughs, it's the first time in two weeks the kids have acted like their old selves instead of walking on eggshells around him, weighing their words carefully, avoiding bringing up Eddie or Hellfire and trailing off when he enters a room.

"Hey," Eddie says sharply, "layoff your babysitter alright, Jesus Christ guys".

And suddenly the spell is broken.

Lucas slowly puts down his cup and Mike rolls his eyes but seems to deflate in his seat, leaning into Will who frowns at Eddie slightly. Dustin crosses his arms across his chest and glares with a mutinous expression at the table.

Dammit.

"Okay, everyone relax, finish up and let's go," Steve sighs. He reaches over and tugs on Dustin's ever present cap with his right hand while the left hand, still holding his spoon, snags a little taste of Lucas's cup of butterscotch.

All of the kids start yelling again, but this time laughter rings out as the earlier tension melts away.

Steve looks at Eddie who smiles widely at him, relief evident in his big brown eyes; he can't stop the small grin that takes over his own face at the sight, even if it does make his chest ache.

They leave shortly after, the kids prattle on about some sci-fi movie that's caught their eye for the next trip to the Hawk Theater. Dustin argues that sequels never hold up while Will insists that as long as there are Aliens, as the title suggests, it should be just as good as the first.

Steve and Eddie follow just behind the group, Eddie slows down to walk in step with Steve.

"Sooo that was a little…intense," Eddie says, it's phrased more like a question and the way he's looking at Steve, like he's waiting for an answer for why the air in the ice cream place seemed to shift. He reaches for Steve's elbow with soft fingers that curl around and press into his denim jacket.

The kids have already piled into the beamer, Lucas snags the front seat since it's his turn --much to the irritation of Mike who 'never gets front seat dibs!'

Eddie swings in front of Steve slightly, letting his hand maintain contact at Steve's elbow, grounding them both.

Eddie's eyes narrow, just enough that Steve catches it, "You just…seem a little on edge or something".

Steve shugs and carefully pulls on a small neutral grin. It's comfortable, he's worn it before.

"Yeah man," he looks away from Eddie's concerned gaze, "it's all good, I'll see you later alright?

He keeps the tone bright. It's not his customer service voice, this is something he's carefully honed over years of sports injuries, smiling at teachers as they scolded him, or lying through his teeth to his dad after a particularly nasty screaming session.

It's light, and something he's never had to break out with Robin.

A small part of Steve was hoping he'd never have to use it on Eddie, but here they were.

"I gotta get the kids back anyway," it's not quite a lie but it's only three in the afternoon, and the words only seem to push Eddie a little further as his fingers curl more firmly around Steve's elbow.

"Steve," Eddie says again, but Steve is already pulling himself out of Eddie's grip, his hand falls away to hang limply at his side, silver rings glinting in the midafternoon sun.

Steve waves and makes his way to the driver's side door, ignoring the way Eddie's eyes follow him and the downward curve of his mouth.

He opens the car door and lets it shut, allowing the chaos of noise and teenage yelling drown out the guilt that followed him into the car.

"So," Dustin says from the back as Steve buckles himself in,"are you sure you guys are good?"

Steve pauses for just a second before he blinks and puts the key in the ignition, "yeah, 'course man, why wouldn't we be?"

Dustin is quiet for a moment, all of the kids are.

There is a strange, somber heaviness in the vehicle as Steve makes his way down mainstreet.

Mike seems off in his own stormy little world, glaring at the hands in his lap while Will looks out the window with a sad frown. Steve feel's Dustin and now Lucas watching him, their gaze enough to make him itch.

"You guys just seem different," Dustin insists, he crosses his arms over his seatbelt and leans back into his seat.

"You guys don't touch like you used to," Lucas says matter of factly.

Dustin snaps his fingers and leans forward once more to grab the back of Lucas's seat, "that's what it is! It's been driving me crazy!"

A dull ache throbs in Steve's chest as the kids continue to talk over one another, the volume gradually rising in the small space.

"Okay, first of all, I will crash this car if you all keep yelling," Steve barks over the four incessant voices, "Jesus, second of all, we don't touch each other--"

"Yes you do!"

"Um, have you met yourselves?"

"Jesus, it's like you're a pair of Octopuses!"

"If you're both sooo good why didn't you guys hug goodbye like you used to?"

"Enough," Steve says sharply, he signals right and slowly pulls off to the side of the road, letting the crackle of gravel fill the now silent vehicle. Steve grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles have faded to white to hide the shaking of his hands.

"Look," Steve sighs, he lifts one hand away from the steering wheel to scrub harshly over his face. It catches on the hint of stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but I am an adult, and I can take care of myself".

"What about when Max saved you from Billy?" Mike scoffs, he ignores the elbow that Will throws into his side.

"Or when Erica and I had to rescue you and Robin from the Russians?" Dustin challenges with equal ferocity.

"That was different," Steve says with a scowl and a roll of his eyes, "I only got into those situations because I was looking out for you shitheads--"

"Exactly!!" Dustin crows with a smirk.

"Us shitheads stick together!" He raises his eyebrow like he's already won the argument and crosses his arms over his chest.

Steve sighs and lets his head tip back into the headrest, he looks into the rear view mirror at the three sets of eyes staring back at him before tipping his face to the side to see Lucas's unwavering gaze from the passenger seat.

"If I promise you guys that everything is fine for now, you'll drop it?"

The kids are quiet for a moment before Will says, "Party meeting, plug your ears Steve".

Steve considers just putting the car back into drive and continuing on their way, ignoring the ridiculous request.

But it's Will, and the youngest Buyers has finally realized his ability to weaponize his big hazel eyes and bowl cut to get whatever he wants.

"How is this my life," Steve mutters under his breath but does as he's asked.

He raises his hands to cup over his ears, muting the following low chatter around him. Steve hums a few bars of Dancing in the Dark to make whatever they're saying even more indistinguishable, because he's a damn good babysitter, before Lucas taps his elbow.

Steve shifts in the driver's seat, turning so he can see all of the beaming faces staring back at him. He feels his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"We'll drop it," Dustin tells him with a smile that doesn't waver once as he looks over to Lucas and then Will, Mike rolls his eyes though the smallest of grins tugs at the corner of his lips.

"If you agree to host Hellfire again," Lucas says with a sly smile, holding his hand out with wiggling fingers for Will to match the corresponding move with his own confident hand.

"Guys…"

"Come on Steve, you've got the best place for it and we'll make sure you have a good time!" Dustin leans across Mike who huffs and pushes him away, it doesn’t stop Dustin from clasping Steve’s driver's seat with his hands and squeezing the leather by Steve’s shoulder.

Steve holds in a scoff, doubting that they can really guarantee such a thing, especially if Eddie and the other Hellfire members will be there, but the kids are all doing their best impression of the youngest Wheeler, Holly, when she begs for piggyback rides.

"Fine," Steve huffs out, he feels a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth as the kids cheer.

"Yeah, yeah, if you really want to make me happy, one of you should learn to fuckin' drive".

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty @hyperfixationgoddess @hippieg1rl420

And thank you to @flowercrowngods for your encouragement, I hope the stobin fluff makes up for this not being finished yet!

#platonic stobin #mean!eddie wip #finally finished this big boy #cw f slur #billy hargrove is his own warning #eddie munson has a bad dad #protective wayne munson #the party #will byers can and will weaponize those eyes of his #I broke my promise about how long this would take #angst with a happy ending #steddie #getting together #afewproblems writes #afewproblemswrites #also broke my promise about how this would only be three parts

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