#No Beta we die like robins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

estrellami-1 · 3 months ago

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Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?”

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. ��My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears.

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head.

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #starambles #tw character death #cw character death #I’m imagining Eddie goes to Family Video with Steve that day and eventually puts on a vest another employee had left there #He does more work than Steve #Except for when the old ladies who hate Eddie on principle come in #Eddie finds out Steve can out-bitch them #He falls more in love #He does in fact have to excuse himself to the back after that. Yes they kiss about it later #I literally googled ‘human head getting run over at 40mph’ and I think the FBI agent in my phone is officially Worried #Oh well. He knows I’ve seen worse #Also in case you were wondering. I couldn’t find any concrete answers. But I got Enough #No beta we die like Eddie’s mom apparently????#(Too soon?)

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jinjeriffic · 10 months ago

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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5

Part 4

After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.

Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.

“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.

Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.

“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.

Jazz gave him an amused look.

“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.

“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.

“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.

“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.

“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.

There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?

“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”

Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.

“Duly noted.”

“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”

“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”

Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.

“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”

Jazz gave him a wry smile.

“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”

Tim choked. Jason swore.

“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.

“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.

Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.

“What’s ectoplasm?”

“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”

“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.

“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”

Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.

“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”

“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.

“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.

Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.

“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”

“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”

“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.

“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”

“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”

Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”

Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.

“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.

“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”

Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.

“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”

“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.

“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”

Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.

“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.

“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”

Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.

“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”

Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.

“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”

Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.

Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.

“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”

“Yep.”

“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”

Tim groaned.

“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”

“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”

Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”

Part 6

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #jazz fenton #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#no beta we die like danny #jazz gets to infodump and worldbuild whoo

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wolfram-but-art · 1 year ago

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i may or may not have made full designs for mercs in an rp i'm doing...

rb > likes or smth

misc + og designs under cut :thumbs up:

here's them before i started colouring

most of these are pretty gimmicky on purpose, also i changed a cuple of stuff here and there

for the sake of the rp i designed these kill feeds (more or less inspired by those chat devices someone made for dsmp that one time) (it's a little primitive, but it only has to be functional)

there is a v.2 which has the form of a watch (you can see it on sniper, spy and engie) (it also has a mode where instead of sending notifications it vibrates, thought it would be fun for sneaking) (maybe it even has a walke talkie function, yk, for team comms) (i didn't draw but it's all fictional anyway)

i kept some on my hcs in these ddesigns too, like engi's and Pyro's special goggles and tails and

i also removed Medic's lab coat because... well... he doesn't have it on...

i removed Sniper's facial hair too because i ended up hating it hfsgfe

there's also this uh,, thing i made

(yes, i made spy look and pose like that on prpose lmao)

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mrmanbat · 26 days ago

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Brother- I keep on seeing people who think Jason can’t use technology bc he died.

Bro was trained by Batman and is a current vigilante?? He definitely has a better understanding of engineering and technology than most average people.

What I can see is him having no clue what’s going on on social media. Bro doesn’t have the free time and the gap he has in current events is def discouraging him.

Jason has the MySpace account he created pre-crowbar and he still thinks vine exists.

#Technology is not his strong suit but he is still trained in hacking and all that jazz #I can totally see Tim or Babs helping him out with some incredibly difficult niche piece of tech tho #but that isn’t bc Jason can’t use tech #it’s bc it’s Tim and Babs #they’re just build dif and make Jason look incapable when compared to them #jason todd #batfam #batman #dc robin #crowbar victim #robin!jason #no beta we die like jason todd #dc comics #headcanon #dc headcanon #no hate if you support the idea #I legit like the idea I just can’t see it being true

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minty364 · 8 months ago

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DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 4

The living room and kitchen were deserted, neither Danny nor Jazz expected anyone as it was normal for their parents to essentially live in the basement only coming up for meals once or twice a month to ‘eat as a family’, these would consist mostly of fast food as no one trusted anything cooked in their kitchen.

They shared a glance as they opened the basement door and headed down. The dimly lit basement held the giant hole in the wall, the so-called portal, a massive metal spectacle with wires and interconnected circuitry met together to create an unholy abomination of science. Or at least that’s what Jazz called it once when they were in her room venting about the situation.

“JAZZ!! DANNY!!” their overzealous father yelled as he bounded over.

Their mom walked over too, seeming to be happy for their return, “your father and I could barely contain our excitement all day!! Go on put on your hazmat suits.” their mom gestured over to the lockers that held the suits. Both of their parents' lockers tended to be quite empty since they practically lived in them, to the point where they had several copies of the same suits that they’d wash and reuse. Danny and Jazz only had the ones, Jazz had a nice dark violet color with black gloves and boots. Danny had black gloves and boots too but his was white to make it look like he was an astronaut, something that he had mixed feelings on. Both of these used to have a giant picture of Jack’s head on it but it was quickly removed by both siblings.

They quickly put the suits on over their uniforms and joined their parents behind some glass near the portal. It wasn’t closed off or anything and Danny didn’t think it would be able to prevent something like an explosion from charing all of them but it’s hard to have faith in parents who've missed so much because of the stupid portal, or at least that’s how Danny felt.

Jazz and Danny huddled together behind their parents as their mom did some final checks on a clipboard, “alrighty we should be all good, Hun you ready to throw the switch?” their mom asked their dad. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Jack yelled as he threw down the switch.

…

A few sparks erupted from the portal but other than that nothing happened.

Their dad, frustrated at this angrily tried turning it off and on again but nothing but another smaller spark and then truly nothing.

Another low frustrated growl left their dad as he and mom walked back up the steps, “alright I’m taking a break.” Jack said, almost defeated, sounding, “I’m sorry but I really thought we had it this time.”

“Oh come on, Jack, let’s go out, I’m sure the kids were probably going over to the Wayne’s again anyways. Let’s go out and have a fun night then sleep on it.” their mom said, patting dad on the shoulder. They shared a fond look and then went upstairs probably to get ready.

Danny and Jazz stood at the bottom of the stairs and shared a look.

“They gave up too fast again…” Jazz noted.

“I guess, what do we do now?” Danny asked.

“I’m still a little curious about the portal but I don’t want to keep Damian, Tim or Alfred waiting,” Jazz said with a hand on her cheek.

“We could invite them in, I know we haven’t before but maybe Tim would know how to get it working, he is pretty good with technology.” Danny reasoned. Neither of them really wanted to involve the Wayne’s in their family’s shenanigans but at this point they were all friends and Damian and Tim were bound to find out how weird their family was at some point anyways.

Jazz stood there seeming to think things over before she nodded, “alright I trust your judgment but we’ll have to be careful okay?”

Danny smiled at her, “of course, what’s the worst that could happen?”

This is what led to the four of them standing at the bottom of the stairs. Their parents had left about an hour ago. Danny and Jazz were still in their suits with Tim without one and made to sit with Jazz behind the glass and Damian and Danny planning to explore the actual tube.

“I don’t want to chance you getting hurt,” he said to her as he made her stand next to Tim.

Damian and Danny shared a look and nodded before heading into the tube.

They looked around for a while but didn’t see much besides the interconnected wires on the floor of the lab. Damian took the right side while Danny took the left. They worked their way up and down the tube. Damian was a little ahead of Danny on their way out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

When they were almost out Danny lost his footing, his hand flying out in front of him. A soft click was heard and time seemed to crawl to a stand still.

Danny couldn’t stand the thought of his friend getting hurt because of him and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He ran as he felt a swirl of energy and electricity surround his body.

“DANNY!! DAMIAN!!” he heard both Tim and Jazz shout as he reached Damian who was at the mouth of the portal.

A quick shove was all it took to get Damian, who had turned towards him at the sound of the shout, out of the portal.

“DANIEL!!” he heard Damian shout as the portal activated on top of him, surrounding his body with swirling green.

Blinding pain shot through Danny, feeling as if he was being torn apart and put back together again and again.

He figured he was dying but at least he could protect those he cared about. He was able to shove Damian out of the portal in time, and Tim and Jazz were safely behind the blast glass.

He wouldn’t ever be able to fly among the stars as an astronaut but he was able to protect. His family and friends were safe and that’s all that mattered.

He could allow himself to succumb to the darkness as the electricity and pain consumed him whole.

#dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #poor danny #Main character death #Danny died #Jazz Fenton is traumatized #Tim Drake is traumatized #Damian Wayne is traumatized #Everyone gets traumatized #Danny himself gets majorly traumatized #Character Trauma #Depictions of death #Described death scene #Everyone is going to struggle with this #I bought a new chromebook and it's easier to type so I should be getting these out sooner #It'll probably get worse for Danny before it get's better but that's how these things go #Tim was thinking it was safe to let them search in the tube because Damian was with Danny #Damian thought it was safe because he's an ex-assassin and robin #Jazz trusted his brother to know how to be careful #Whoops Danny tripped and now he's dead #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #no beta we die like Danny #Google Docs is my beta

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goth1c-pinki3-pi3 · 5 months ago

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Someone give me a fic where whenever Tim has a joker junior relapse where he starts laughing uncontrollably he goes to the titans tower and that’s how Jason finds him when he goes to beat Timmy up.

#cassie's rambles #tim drake #joker junior #joker jr #dc red robin #robin #dc red hood #jason todd #no beta we die like jason todd

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

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@steddiemas Day 13 - Snow Day

uh...yeah.. this got way away from me but...here's day 13! (a day late and 4k words more than normal???)

pairing: steddie | word count: 5,201 | rated: T

The following Thursday finds Eddie and the entire Hellfire Club literally and metaphorically clamoring over each other and his large dining room table while their campaign (Eddie had helpfully told him) continues on.

Luckily, Robin had agreed to spend their night off work from the video store with him.

“So, when are you going to do something about your hopeless Eddie crush?”

“SSshh! Not so loud, Rob!”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sorry to tell you this Dingus, but I don’t think he’s paying you a single modicum of attention.”

Steve looks over at the table from his spot on the couch; Robin’s right, of course, Eddie’s already halfway onto the tabletop, his arms stretched wide and the rest of him hunched low to the wood.

He’s deep into his story and his voice is dropped low, only the tone of it reaching Steve’s ears.

“He’s such a dork.” Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you loooove him!” Robin teases, poking one foot that had been with her other on Steve’s lap into his side instead.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Hand me another slice of cheese.”

She reaches over to one of the leftover boxes of pizza on the coffee table and fishes out a slice for him, “So what are you gonna do about it?” She asks, handing it to him.

“About what?” he asks, taking down half the slice in one bite.

“Don’t play dumb Steve,”

He sighs, “I don’t know Rob; he hasn’t made a move either! He kissed me first, remember? Right over there!” Steve points to the offending doorway, “Because of you, by the way.” he snarfs down the other half of the slice two big bites.

“I remember.” She nods.

“I honestly don’t know what to do Bob, I want to corner him and kiss him all over his fuckin’ body but how’m I supposed to know if he’d be okay with that? Does he want that?”

“Oh he wants that, believe me.”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. She only quirked a brow at him in return. “What do you know, Buckley?”

Robin snorts out a laugh, “I would say to just go for it, but I feel like he’d freak if you did that out of the blue.”

“So, what, I just say ‘Hey, I really really like you, maybe already halfway love you, and I want to know if you’d like to kiss about it maybe?’?”

“Who’s Steve kissing?”

Steve jumps at Dustin’s voice, suddenly beside him. He knew his hearing was going on his left..Robin told him he was just imagining it.

“OOh, Steve’s kissing someone?” This time it was Lucas, his voice teasing as he passes behind Dustin through the door under the stairs with his arms full of pop cans.

“I’m not kissing anyone,”

“He just wants to.”

Damn you, Robin. Steve glances quickly to the table, Eddie has his back turned to them.

“Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s…” Steve pauses for a half a second, “None of your business. You guys done for the night?”

“Yeah.. about that..”

Oh no–

“Can we stay the night here? We have to start planning out our characters for the next campaign!”

“You guys are done done?” “Not quite,” Steve turns his head to the right, the older kid Frank is standing in the other doorway from the living room to the hall closest to the front door. “We have one more session then I’m DM-ing the next campaign.”

Steve nods along with Robin (whose head is hanging backward over the arm of the couch closest to Frank). “So you…six? Seven? Want to stay the night?” He's already skimming through the house in his head to where the extra blankets and pillows are stashed. He should have enough.

“No, just us.” Mike confirms, plopping down onto the carpet between the coffee table and fireplace across from the couch. “Me, Lucas, Will, and Dustin.”

Dustin nods, adding “And Eddie was going to stay a little longer to plan his own character, since he’s gonna be able to play in the next one.”

Steve turns back to Frank and the other older kid…Jeff…?, who’s now leaning around the doorway too. “You guys aren’t staying?”

“Nah man, we don’t wanna impose, thanks for having us though.” Maybe Jeff said.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve lifts Robin’s legs off his lap and stands, moving to see the three older Hellfire members off at the door. The Harringtons are polite hosts first and foremost. “Thanks for coming, guys.” What was he thanking them for? It wasn’t like they were here for him.

Jeff’s polite smile seemed to echo Steve’s thoughts, “Of course man, thanks for having us over.” “And for the pizza.” the shortest of the three says to the agreement of the others.

Jeff shakes Steve’s hand, the shortest one (Garby? George? It was something with a ‘G’) smiles again after pulling on his coat before heading out to Frank’s truck.

One of Frank’s solid hands lands on Steve’s shoulder in a friendly pat, and it’s almost enough to miss Eddie slipping out the door behind him into the slow fall of fat snowflakes outside. He was surprised to see a swath of snow had blanketed his front yard since the boys had been here.

Steve almost says something, but hears the guys exchanging their own farewells through the cracked door, so he turns back to the steps.

Will is already coming back down them, arms full of blankets and pillows, Lucas following behind him.

“I was about to go grab those myself–wait, did any of you dipshits call and ask your parents if you can stay? It’s a school night!” Steve follows the two into the living room.

The four of them immediately look cowed.

“OOohh you better get moving guys,” Robin teases.

“All of you up, you’re calling home.” Steve waves his arm as if to shove them all through the hall into the kitchen. “And no complaints, otherwise you’ll all be piling into the beemer before you can say demogorgon.”

Three of the four boys grumble their complaints as they pass him, “Hey, you’re lucky I’m even letting you stay. Seeing as how I’m the one that’s gonna have to drive you all to school in the morning.”

“You’ll already be driving Robin!” Mike complains

“Yeah but I have pretty privilege.” Robin calls from her spot on the couch.

Steve hears the door click closed, and looks over to see Eddie coming back in.

“Hey–” Eddie disappears down the hall and past the steps, only to reappear in the dining area through the other doorway under the steps. He immediately goes back to whatever papers he’s got on the table.

Steve looks down at Robin, who looks up at him at the same time, his confusion is reflected on her face.

He’s about to go talk to Eddie when Dustin calls for him from the kitchen.

-x-

“Steve! Mom wants to talk to you!”

Eddie hears Dustin call from the kitchen, and he stacks his pile of notes together, finally closing them up into his spiral notebook.

He pauses then. Just staring down at the disheveled wire binding.

He should go. No need to torture himself further, the kids will understand right? He’ll just make up something about his Uncle needing him home right away tomorrow morning or something.

Yeah. That should work, it’s not like anyone would call Wayn—

“So. You’re down in the dumps.”

Eddie’s shoulders crowd up against his ears at Robin’s arrival.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” She doesn’t believe him, of course.

He can hear the sound of Steve’s cheery voice from the kitchen, the tone he takes whenever he’s talking to one of the kids’ parents, and Eddie can feel his face screw up in pain.

“Ah hah!”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t have to,” he bites out, “It’s not like you’re the one having to listen to your crush wax poetic about some girl he wants to kiss stupid.”

He turns to look at her. Robin’s face is blank for a moment, then a barely-there smug smirk appears on her lips.

Eddie’s vision goes scarlet. “You don’t get to be a shithead about it, Buckley. This is all your fuckin’ fault.” he spits out in a low whisper.

“My fault?” she echoes in the same tone, the smile falling from her face. “What’s my fault??”

“You’re the one who made me think I had a chance, weren’t you? The one who put up that fuckin’ mistletoe? Your fault.” He pokes her shoulder accusingly. His volume was getting higher, so he adjusts before continuing. “I should have known there was no chance; he’s the one who said ‘Now we’re even.’ after he kissed me in Melvald’s!”

“He said tha—”

Eddie was practically hissing at this point, just a steady stream of steam escaping him like a cartoon character. “He just felt bad, Robin! He just felt like he owed me something, there’s no goddamn feelings there!”

“Eddi–”

“I gotta go.”

He scoops up his notebook in one hand and snatches up his bag with the other, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Eddie, don’t go–”

He stalks down the hall past the steps away from her voice. He’s almost to his escape when Dustin cuts off his path from the kitchen doorway closest to the front door.

“Eddie, you’re leaving?”

“Sorry kid, gotta go.” He steps around him, “I forgot Wayne needs me home right away tomorrow morning.”

“But you were going to–”

“I’ll help you later, Dustin.” it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“Don’t be an ass, Eddie.”

“You know what? Bite me, Mike.” He really shouldn’t be taking his feelings out on the goblins.

“Fuck you, man.”

“Hey! Hey, what is happening right now?” Steve comes out into the hall then, making eye contact with Eddie for a fraction of a second before Eddie focuses on lacing his boots onto his feet.

“Eddie’s leaving,”

“...Okay? And?”

Alright, ouch.

He yanks his laces even tighter.

“And he said he would help us, and now he’s leaving.”

“Oh come off it Dustin, you heard what he said.” Lucas says, an eyeroll in his voice.

“What’d he say?” Eddie’s head told him that Steve’s voice sounded hurt, but best not to believe his head right now. “He said,” Eddie cuts in, “That his uncle needs him home in the morning.”

Steve’s soft “Oh.” was barely audible over the other three arguing back at him.

He yanks the last lace tight to his calf and stands sharply.

“Yeah, so, thanks for having us over, Harrington, I’ll see ya around.” he purposely doesn’t look up at Steve’s face as he says this, focusing on his notebook and bag.

His hand just reaches the doorknob when Robin’s voice calls out from the living room. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, Eddie.”

Because his arm was already in motion when she started talking, the door opens in front of him just as she finishes.

The slow fat flakes from only, what, 10 minutes earlier? are now flying harsh and sideways across the light escaping Steve’s front door. It’s piling up out there, and fast. Bessie has braved many a winter in Hawkins, but he knows he’d get snowed in by time they got across town to the park.

Honestly though? Getting snowed in on the side of the road is seeming much more preferable than staying here after his little hissy fit.

“Eddie? Just stay here, man.” Steve sounds much closer than before, “I don’t want something to happen to you–” What Eddie can only assume is Steve’s hand falls to his shoulder, and he immediately turns away from it, closing the front door and letting his bag fall down his arm to the floor in the same motion as he turns into the kitchen without making eye contact with anyone.

The phone is still warm in his palm when he lifts it to his ear, punching Frank’s number into the buttons on the cradle.

In the handful of rings it takes for him to pick up, Eddie can hear the others whispering to each other, no doubt things like “What’s Eddie’s problem?”, “Why’s he being mean to Steve?”, “Why can’t he control his big gay feelings for his obviously straight friend?”.

Okay, maybe that last one was a bit much for a bunch of sophomores.

“Hello?”

“Frank, you’re home?”

“Uh. Yeah. You called me at home.”

“Well it’s snowin’ like shit outside now, I wanted to make sure you guys got back safe.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I just got in when I heard the phone. Everyone’s home safe.”

“Alright good, I’m gonna stay here at Harrington’s; talk to you later man, I gotta call Wayne.

“Okay Ed, see ya’.”

Eddie jabs his finger into the phone’s switch to end the call, then starts to dial the trailer. Wayne should be just about to leave for work.

“Y’ello?”

“Hey Wayne, it’s me.” Eddie says, turning his face away automatically when someone shuffles into the kitchen.

“Ed, where’ya at?”

“I’m still at Steve’s. It really started to come down so I don’t want to risk driving home tonight.”

“Good. You stay righ’ there, son.”

“Are you still going in?”

Wayne hums in agreement, “Got to.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks, “Wayne–”

“Now don’ you worry ‘bout me boy, I woke up early enough to get the chains on the truck.”

“Fine, fine. Be careful, old man.”

“You got it kid. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

He hangs the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall feeling much looser now; he’d almost forgotten why he was so wound up, but seized up again as soon as he turned.

Steve was standing at the stove, stirring something that was obscured by his torso. “You want some hot chocolate too, Eds?” he asks, not turning from the stove.

Eddie gives him a short “No.” and goes back out into the hall to unlace his boots once again.

He wanders back into the living room with his bag and plops down in the recliner, pulling out his monster manual and his smaller, less pulverized notebook, the one with the basics of his next character fleshed out in it.

A tiefling bard, one he had imagined as having such thick skin on him that no matter what snide remarks, insults, and bashes to his character were thrown at him, he’d only shrug them off. Something real Eddie’d love to do. A charming, charismatic bard that got all who heard his songs to overlook his hellish appearance.

Wouldn’t that be something.

While he’s mulling over what name to give his bard (he’s waffling between Zarlech and Erron), Robin appears, settling in on the corner seat of the couch beside him.

He tenses up again, thinking she’s going to try talking to him about the too-good-for-this-world man in the yellow sweater in the next room, but she doesn’t. She only sits down and starts back in on the thick Vogue magazine she’d been swiping though since he and his troupe arrived.

Steve comes in with two mugs of cocoa not long after, walking to Eddie first with a soft smile.

“I told you I didn’t want any.”

He regrets his tone as soon as the words pass his lips; Steve looks stunned, the boys’ idle chatter from the coffee table dies off immediately.

Eddie’s face burns in embarrassment, but before he can even open his mouth, Robin says “I’ll take his,” and reaches for the steaming pale yellow mug.

He passes it over, and stands there for a moment with the other mug before turning and handing it over to Will, the closest to him of the four on the floor.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then turns out of the room. Robin’s up and out of the room not a moment later, saying, “I’ll go help him with you threes’.”

There’s a beat of silence, then: “What. In the actual fuck. Is your problem, man?”

Eddie turns to face the voice; all four teens are staring at him, each one with a different level of incredulousness on their faces. Mike’s is the worst, looking at Eddie like he just killed his dog. And he’s about to get revenge for it.

“Who do you think you are to talk to him like that, huh?” Mike seethes at him, “This is his fucking house, and you’re gonna sit here and be rude as all hell just because he doesn’t like you back?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie hears his voice echo his thoughts. “How do you—”

“Steve puts up with enough shit from us as it is, he doesn’t need it from you too.”

There’s surprise on the other threes’ faces, but Eddie’s got an inkling it’s surprise at this coming from Mike and not from the content of the outburst.

“Uh..”

“Mike’s right, Eddie. You’re our friend, but Steve’s our…” Lucas trails off.

“He’s our Steve.” Will says resolutely.

“He’s our Steve.” Lucas agrees, “And we won’t hesitate to drop you like a dead fish over him.”

Eddie turns his gaze to Dustin, not looking forward to what he might see in his closest butthead’s expression.

Dustin’s face is set in determined lines, and he meets Eddie’s gaze solidly. “I love you both as brothers, man. Don’t make me choose between you two…Though I will choose Steve.”

Robin returns before Eddie can formulate any sort of response to..all that.., pressing a steaming mug of cocoa into each of the boys’ waiting hands.

She came in with four though, and brings the last one to Eddie. “Leave him be for a minute. I’m sure he will be fine, but he’s upset.” He takes the mug from her and she squashes back down into her abandoned seat with a sigh. “Which usually means he’s going to be doing laundry until I make him go to sleep.”

Eddie spends the next 25 minutes trying to think about what he’s going to say to Steve, what he’s going to tell him was the reason for his bullshit attitude.

For a solid three, he seriously thinks about telling Steve the truth, that he got all pissy at the thought of him sucking face with whoever it is he’s got a crush on, but that’s really not fair to Steve..or to this mystery girl.

At 30, Robin nudges his arm with her bony elbow, so he leaves his book and still-unnamed character on the chair and goes to find Steve.

He follows the sound of music coming from off the kitchen, stopping just outside the door when the low sound of Steve singing along to ‘The First Nöel’ playing softly through the radio.

It had to be that damn song, didn’t it?

…Okay, maybe it’s not so bad if Steve’s the one singing it..

He steps into the narrow room once the radio host comes back on. It’s small, but there’s more than enough room for the machine’s doors to open and to manuver a basket around in here, and there’s a side door out to the yard at the end of the room; there’s neat-ish piles of clothes in front of the washer and overflowing a basket under the dryer door, a few loose dust bunnies and used dryer sheets litter the corners.

Steve’s standing at the dryer, pawing through a seemingly freshly cleaned pile of towels on its top.

He glances up at him briefly when he enters, going back to the pile immediately, “Eddie, hey, sorry for sulking off like that. I just..got into my head a bit.” Even Steve sounded like he didn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ll be back out in a minute, just gotta take care of this load..”

“Hey, it’s alright man. It’s not all on you, you know.” Steve’s hands stop when he looks over, dropping themselves and a half-folded towel back onto the pile. “Look, I’m sorry Steve. My brain is weird sometimes too; I had some of my own shit pop back up for no fuckin’ reason at all and it just..really threw me. I didn’t mean to take it out on you like that, I swear.”

The truth. For the most part at least. He really didn’t mean to snap at Steve like that over fuckin’ hot chocolate.

“Really, it’s okay Eddie. You did say that you didn’t want any.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t give me the right to be an ass to you.” Eddie ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Steve finally says. “I appreciate it, Eds.”

Relief floods through him at the nickname, he meets Steve’s gaze again. “Do you uhm, need help or anything?”

Steve smiles softly, “No, I really do just need to take care of this last load and I’ll be back out there.”

A low howl of wind from outside the side door cuts him off before he can reply.

Eddie groans, “Well that sounds like it’ll be fun…”

All in all, it was fun.

After going back to the living room and confirming with the others that he did, in fact, apologize to their Steve, Eddie sat back down with his notebook and got back to work.

He was slowly absorbed into the boys’ huddle and by time Steve comes back in, all five of them are heavily debating what alignment Zardok the bard should be.

Not 30 minutes later, the lights flicker off above them.

“Aw hell.” Steve mutters from the sofa.

“I’ll start running the tub.” Eddie sighs, pushing himself off the floor and waving his arms in front of him so he doesn’t run into any walls on his way.

“Why would you run the tub?” Dustin asks, incredulous.

“You fill the tub with water in case the pipes freeze while the power’s out. That way you still have water to flush the toilets and get clean and stuff.”

“Thank you Will, exactly.” Eddie says. Smart kid.

Damn. Why doesn’t he carry a mini flashlight again?

“That’s a thing?” Robin asks, then clicks on a flashlight. Where in the hell’d she get that?

“You don’t need to do that, Eds. The place is plenty well insulated.” Steve assures, stopping him from leaving, “The pipes won’t freeze, I promise.”

“....Lucky bastard.”

Dustin goes to the opposite end of Robin’s couch and fishes another light from between the cushions.

He and the other three make quick work of arranging their blankets and pillows there in the living room, Dustin’s light only going so far as to help continue their brainstorming.

Steve and Robin leave them to it, and lead Eddie upstairs with their light.

One round of fighting off nightmares later, he’s dragged into wakefulness with the smell of cinnamon.

He re-cinches Steve’s lended sweats around his hips and trudges down the stairs.

There are snores still reverberating from the living room, and Steve is standing in front of the stove flipping something.

A square glass pan with an inch of some sort of mixture in it was sitting on the island across from him along with an open bag of bread and half a dozen eggs still in their carton.

The floor under his feet squeaks when he stops in the doorway, alerting Steve to his presence.

He glances over his shoulder at him, then goes back to the stove to flip something again. “Hey Eds, just makin’ some breakfast, you want something?” He turns to him fully then, leaning his elbows onto a clear patch of the island countertop.

Steve must take his sleepy silence as confusion.

“Oh! The power came back on last night. Well, er..” he looks back at the stove’s clock, blinking 5:08 out at them, “Early this morning, actually.”

Huh. Guess it was confusion.

“Anyway, you want some french toast?” That explains the cinnamon. “Or I can whip you up some eggs…?”

“No, no, french toast is great.” his voice comes out scratchy with disuse. “Thanks Stevie.”

Steve smiles and turns back to the stove, “The coffee machine is on, if you want a cup; I’ll have a plate ready for you in just a couple minutes.”

Eddie wakes up slowly with his coffee, watching as Steve resets the clock on the oven to his watch.

“It’s 8:30 already? Shouldn’t we get the kids up for school?” Holy shit. Who knew Eddie Munson would ever sound so much like a mom.

“Nah,” Steve waves him off, “I was up with my alarm to get them up and ready, but when I got down here, Claudia called. The school called a snow day.”

Steve passes him a plate of toast, already smothered with syrup. “You want powdered sugar?”

“Ooh fancy, fancy,” Eddie laughs, adding a haughty accent to his next words, “Bring me my powdered confectionary Steeves, I wish to dust it upon my imported french breakfast.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but passes over a short ceramic container of the stuff.

Lucas is the one up next, going to the coffee machine before acknowledging either of them.

He sips on his cup without adding anything to it, the heathen. Eddie’s own cup was nearly drowned out with milk and sugar.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the house wakes up and wanders to the kitchen, each getting a plate stacked high with sweet cinnamon-y goodness.

Dustin, Mike, and Will are sitting at the little breakfast nook table in the kitchen’s front window, getting steadily louder about their plans for the near eight inches of snow that’s blanketed across Steve’s front yard.

“You’re going to help me shovel it out so I can get you free-loaders home as soon as possible. That’s what you’re going to do.” Steve insists, pushing a plate of toast in front of Robin, the last to get up.

So that’s what originally got them all outside, but two shovels can only get two of them so far with the driveway before any of the other five start fucking around.

The first blow comes from Mike, a well thrown snowball hitting dead center on the back of Will’s head.

Then Lucas lobbed one aimed for Dustin but hit Mike right on the nose.

Will’s shovel was abandoned, teams were made, and Steve was left shoveling alone when the snowballs really started flying.

Robin, Lucas, and Will booked it for the bushes on one side of the yard, immediately packing snow up between them and into gaps in the branches to protect them from the flurry.

And of course, the only other good cover on the other end of the yard from them was Steve’s beemer, so Eddie, Mike, and Dustin dove behind the newly uncovered tires, frantically packing snowballs from the untouched drift under Steve’s car.

“Really?” The three of them look up at the sound of Steve’s voice.

Fuck, he looks so adorable all bundled up like this. Nose and cheeks bitten red with the cold and with the exertion of shoveling, scarf tucked around his neck and into his jacket, the dark blue mittens, one on his hip and one over the handle of the shovel, the matching knit cap—even as he glares disapprovingly at them.

“So you’re not gonna help me, and also subject my baby to enemy fire? Not cool, guys.”

Mike lobs a ball across the yard.

“Join us then! Help us defeat those heathens and we’ll help you with the driveway.”

A snowball smacks into the back passenger side window of the car

“No.”, Steve says with finality and goes back to shoveling.

Another ball soars over the roof of the car and splats across the cleared-ish pavement behind them.

“Awe, you’re no fun Stevie.” Eddie complains, though he’s definitely not complaining about the view he’s got right now.

Dustin sends one back, mumbling out a “Damn! So close..” soon after.

“Bite me.”

Not 10 seconds later, a blast of snow smacks the back of Steve’s head.

Everyone freezes.

-x-

He turns slowly back around to face the three snow-covered idiots crouched behind his car.

All three stare wide-eyed at him, faces flushed with cold.

Mike and Dustin's hands raise at the exact same time, both pointing at Eddie.

He can tell from Dustin’s face that it was definitely him that threw the thing at his head, but the panicked, adorable, wide-eyed look Eddie has at the accusation is worth playing along for.

“What?! You traitors!” He scrambles up and back, glancing over and managing to duck a snowball aimed for his head by Robin, “Stevie, sweetheart, darling, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Do I?” He growls out playfully, advancing on the doe-eyed menace.

“Yes! You know I love you, Steve, I would never betray you like that.”

The words, even said teasingly as they are, make Steve’s stomach swoop heavily. He’s lucky his face was already red from the wind.

“I don’t know, Eds,” He holds out one mittened hand to Mike as he passes between the two boys. He drops one into his palm. “Sounds like something you would do.”

He raises the snowball and yells out, chasing Eddie around the front of his car to the hoots and hollers of the others jeering him on.

Eddie is not a good runner, and his Reeboks slip and slide as they try to carve a path through the fresh snow in the yard.

He’s quick though, and doges out of Steve’s reach when he almost catches the back of his borrowed puffer coat, launching off toward the side of the house instead.

Oh no.

“Wait, Eddie! There’s a—” Eddie’s dark head of curls disappears under his feet as he slips off over the side of the hill. “Hill—shit!”

Steve spoke too soon even for himself, unable to stop his momentum before he slips down the hill too.

Snow pushes itself under the back of his jacket down the first half of his slide, then one of his feet gets stuck up under him and he tumbles ass-over-tea kettle the rest of the way.

“OOF—” he lands on something much more solid than snow at the bottom.

Eddie’s cackling laughter bursts out from under him, his chest heaving with it under Steve’s own.

“Eddie, you okay, man?”

Steve pushes up on his hands, one on either side of Eddie’s torso, to look down at him properly.

He lost the red hat he’d grabbed when they came outside earlier, gone to the snow somewhere, and his hair is fanned in an almost perfect halo around his head.

The red spots on his face show off the flakes that fall onto them briefly before they melt under the heat of his skin, his mouth open wide and his eyes crinkled shut in laughter.

Steve was already head over fuckin’ heels for this man, but…oh.

Oh.

Eddie has laugh lines.

They’re so deep already, crinkled up at the corners of his eyes, but for a split second, Steve can’t help but wonder how much more they’d be in 10, 15, 20 years in the future.

And he realizes in that instant that wants so badly to be there to watch them grow longer.

look out, it's noelle coming in hot with the Oh. Oh. moment!

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dragonflylady77 · 3 months ago

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So... yesterday (today? timezones, man...) was @thissortofsorcery's birthday and I decided around 5pm that I'd write a fic for her.

2502 words later... read on Ao3

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE!!!

Summary:

Billy apologizes, Robin helps Steve with something, then she helps Billy with something.

Steve was standing against his car when he spotted Hargrove walking towards him. He planted his feet, crossing his arms over his chest and waited. It had been a couple of months since the fight at the Byers’ and they’d both done a good job avoiding each other.

He’d heard from Dustin that Max had told the gang Billy was sticking to his word and staying out of her way. The guy didn’t seem to hang around Tommy and his clique anymore and Steve wondered who he was hanging out with. He wasn’t sure why he wondered, but he did.

Hargrove stopped a couple of feet away, taking a deep drag on his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and crushing it with his boot. “Harrington.”

“Hargrove,” Steve said, his face showing none of the turmoil he was feeling inside. He wondered what had compelled him to press a finger to Billy’s chest that night, but he couldn’t get out of his head how warm and soft Billy’s skin had been.

“I took it too far that night, and for that I am sorry. My dad, um, my dad made it very clear that I needed to bring Maxine home and when you lied to me about it and wouldn’t let me take her with me, I saw red. That wasn’t your fault, but you have to agree that a thirteen-year-old girl had no business being alone with a bunch of boys at night in a house in the middle of nowhere.”

Steve felt his face heat up. “That’s not… I mean… I don’t…” he sputtered. What the fuck ?

“Yeah, I know that now, but you gotta admit it looked dodgy as hell. Anyway, you don’t have to forgive me or anything, but I wanted to say I’m sorry I made your face my punching bag.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Steve was having a hard time processing.

Billy nodded. “See ya.”

A car door slamming shut snapped Steve out of his trance and he realized Hargrove had left while he was staring into space. He heard the bell and swore under his breath, grabbing his bag out of his car before running towards the school.

The day passed in a daze and last period found Steve in the library for his tutoring session. His English teacher had arranged for someone from his AP class to help Steve with his college essays. Steve couldn’t ask Nancy anymore, obviously, things were too awkward. Part of him hoped it would be Billy Hargrove, though he doubted the new King of Hawkins High would want to spend more time with a washed out loser like Steve…

“Steve Harrington?” a decidedly female voice said next to him and he sat up, blinking.

“Yes?”

“Hi. I’m Robin Buckley. Mr. Crowder asked me to help you with your college essays.” Robin sat in the chair next to him, dumping her backpack in the chair next to her. She pulled out a purple pencil case that was bursting at the seams and turned to him expectantly. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Steve had no idea what was going on and he was sure it showed on his face. This girl would no doubt tell everyone he was an idiot.

“Show me. Your essay.”

“Oh, right.” Steve reached in his bag and pulled out a slightly mangled sheet of paper. He passed it to Robin and tried to ignore the face she made as she flattened the sheet with her hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands on the table.

“It’s okay.”

Steve felt her shrug then she started reading, a red pen at the ready. She read it slowly, clearly taking her time, and rereading it a few times as well. The amount of red marks on his essay made Steve wonder why he’d bothered at all.

Once she was done, she put her pen down and looked at Steve, an apologetic look on her face. “Okay, Steve. Um, it’s not all bad. You have some good ideas in there, but the execution is, um, shall we say, clunky.”

Letting out a groan that earned him a glare from the librarian, Steve crossed his arms on the table and hid his head in them. “I suck, I know.”

“Do you even want to go to college?” Robin asked, her voice muffled.

Steve shrugged. He was tired of his father yelling at him about his shit grades, his lack of prospects if he didn’t get into college, even how short-sighted he had been breaking it off with the Wheeler girl. Life sucked, and now he was kinda maybe having daydreams about what it would feel like to kiss Billy Hargrove.

“Ugh,” was the answer he gave Robin, lifting his head to peer at her. “My dad won’t shut up about it, threatens to cut me off if I don’t get in somewhere. But this study thing? Not sure it’s for me, yanno. Senior year is hard enough. From what all my teachers are saying, I’ll be lucky to graduate.”

“What are you going to do then? Work for your dad?”

“Ha!” Steve scoffed. “As if the great Richard Harrington, Jr. would stoop so low as to give his dumbass son a job in his successful empire.”

“Wow, okay… well, I work at Melvald’s on the weekend and they’re looking for a delivery boy. You have a car, you should apply. Don’t tell your dad and earn your own money.”

“Why are you helping me? I mean, you seem great, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t even know each other…”

“Everyone in the school knows who you are, Steve… but I don’t know.” Robin shrugged. “You don’t seem to have many friends and you look sad a lot.”

Steve had nothing to say to that. Her assessment was almost spot on. “I have friends…” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“Middle schoolers do not count, Steve, I don’t care what they tell you to get rides everywhere.”

“How do you know about that?” Steve sat back in his chair, staring. What the hell? Who was this girl and how did she know so much about him?

“I’m in the school band, dingus. I’m as good as invisible. And I’m very observant. For example, I saw you and Billy Hargrove have a chat this morning.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It surprised me because, last I’d heard, he was leaving you alone after he bashed your head in, last November.”

“He, um, he came to apologize for that, actually.”

“Nice. So… are you going to see him again?”

“What? What are you—no!” Steve looked around, checking to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Thankfully, the few students in the library seemed busy with their own things and they were far enough away that they wouldn’t have heard Robin. “No, it’s not like that,” he whispered furiously, inwardly shushing the little voice in his head saying that he would like it to be.

“Awww, you’re blushing… Your secret is safe with me.” Robin leaned closer and whispered, “I love a good enemies to lovers romance.”

Steve couldn’t make words, he could barely breathe, his mind stuck on a loop of ‘ whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck ’ until the bell rang, moments later, snapping him out of it. He heard someone walk in, the stomping of boots familiar as hell, and he whipped his head to look, even if he already knew. Throwing Robin a small smile, he grabbed his essay from the table and shoved it in his bag. “I have to go.”

He forced himself to walk past Hargrove on his way to the exit, nodding back when Hargrove nodded, and managed to stop himself from running all the way to his car. He sat in his BMW, shaking like a leaf, trying to get his breathing under control before the kids showed up.

*****

“What was that about, Bird?” Billy asked Robin as he sat in the chair Harrington had just vacated. He tried not to react to the residual warmth of the plastic, considering who had been sitting on it. He failed.

“Not sure yet, my sweet. Crowder asked me to help Harrington with his college essay, and, hoo boy, he needs all the help he can get.” She smiled at him. “How was your day since your little chat with our former king this morning?”

Billy groaned, low enough that the librarian didn’t hear, leaning back in the chair. “Ugh. Of course, you know about that.”

“I was literally in the parking lot, and watched the painfully awkward encounter with my own eyes when I was chaining my bike.”

“Painful is accurate.” Billy rubbed both hands over his face then looked at Robin. He knew he was lucky they’d found each other. The two resident queer secret besties.

The basketball team had had an away game a couple of weeks after Billy had arrived in Hawkins. Unlike the cheerleaders, the band traveled with them. As the new guy on the team, Billy’d been assigned the last bed available, sharing a room with the member of the marching band that no one wanted to room with.

Robin had told him as soon as the door had closed that she knew about his crush and that he needed to be more careful. Once Billy had recovered from the shock, they’d spend the night talking, exchanging stories and tips on how to appear less queer than they actually were. On the bus back to Hawkins, they’d gone into details about their current crushes, vowing to help each other. Billy had agreed to pose as Robin’s boyfriend in front of her parents, so they’d stop asking her about gross boys, and he was able to drop Robin’s name and keep Neil off his back—about the queer thing at least.

“I asked him what you said to him, and he said you had apologized.”

“I did.” Didn’t Robin say she had witnessed the interaction?

“Uh huh, that’s great, I’m proud of you, but wha—”

“Wow, you don’t have to sound so enthusiastic…” Billy deadpanned, hearing Robin’s complete lack of interest.

“Shut up. I asked him if he was going to see you again, and he blushed. He turned bright red, in front of my eyes, my sweet.”

“And?” Billy said, confused. What was Robin getting at?

“He didn’t deny it, he looked so flustered then you walked in and he ran off.”

“Again, and?”

“I think you should go to his house and, and, do that thing you do, you know, with your eyelashes and your mouth.”

“Flirting?”

“Yes, that. Go now, while he’s still all in a state. It’s your best chance.”

“Bird…”

“Fly, my pretty, go get your love,” Robin said, and she honest to god giggled.

Billy rolled his eyes but had no choice but to do what she said because she started shoo-ing him and the librarian was now looking in their direction.

He parked a couple of houses down from the Harringtons’ fancy mansion and made his way to the front door, ringing the bell and waiting. No matter what Robin had said, he really didn’t think Steve would open the door. He took a slow spin, taking in the surroundings, noticing the overwhelming amount of greenery in this part of town, especially compared to Cherry Lane.

“Billy?” Steve’s shocked voice said behind him. “What, um, what are you doing here?”

Billy turned around, taking in the soft looking sweater and joggers Steve was now wearing. “I came to see you, pretty boy. Robin said you needed some help and, well, here I am.”

“You… Come in already, it’s freezing out.”

Steve moved to let Billy in and closed the door behind him. “ You want to help me ?” His tone was saying one thing but the way his eyes swept over Billy were saying another.

Billy took the two steps separating them, crowding Steve, but not quite touching him.

“You bet, pretty boy,” he whispered in the gap between them. “In any way I can…” He let his eyes drop to Steve’s mouth before making eye contact again. This close, he could see the flakes of gold in the brown. He wondered what Steve’s chocolate eyes would look like in the early morning sunlight.

Steve’s hands were on his jaw before Billy could react as Steve pulled Billy to him, slanting their mouths together. The surprised gasp that breached Billy’s lips was all Steve needed to slide his tongue in Billy’s mouth.

The shock of Steve making the first move only lasted a moment. Billy wasted no time pressing Steve’s body against the door, his hands reaching under the hem of his sweater. His fingers encountered warm naked skin and Billy moaned.

“Fuck, Steve…”

“Not on the first date,” Steve said with a smile, burying his hands in Billy’s hair and pressing their foreheads together.

“Could be a date,” Billy replied, sliding a thigh between Steve’s legs, his heart rate picking up speed when he felt Steve grow hard against him.

“Billy…”

Billy never thought that hearing a guy whine his name would get him hot under the collar, but today was fraught with new and unexpected experiences.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. What do you need?” he asked Steve, nibbling along Steve’s jaw, before mouthing at the column of his neck.

“You. Me. Naked. My bed.”

*****

“Billy?” Steve asked, his head resting on Billy’s chest, fingers drawing patterns along his barely visible treasure trail. Billy had gone down on him then Steve had given his first ever blow job and he was pretty sure Billy had enjoyed it. He hoped Billy would let him do it again.

“Yeah?” Billy’s hand on Steve’s back didn’t stop; Steve took comfort in that.

“I… Robin said something earlier, about enemies to lovers romance and I want you to know, this isn’t an experiment for me.”

“No?” Billy’s voice was devoid of emotion and Steve didn’t like it.

“I really like you, Billy. I know what happened in November happened, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Steve…”

“What I’m saying is, I know we can’t go out on dates, because it’s dangerous for people like us, but if you wanted, we could hang out here. Order in. Make out in the hot pool my parents installed last year.”

“I like your idea, Stevie, a lot.”

“So you’ll stay?”

Instead of answering with words, Billy flipped them over so he was on top, his hands in Steve’s hair holding him still as he licked into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s hands found Billy’s hips, helping the rolling rhythm that made them both groan and gasp. They never stopped kissing, moving against each other until they both reached their peak.

The ensuing shower to clean the mess that covered them both took so long that they ran out of hot water but they didn’t care.

With the help of a little birdie, they’d found each other, and, well, that was worth all the cold showers in the world.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #this fic is a gift for my bestie #billy and robin are secret gay bffs #no beta we die like steve's heterosexuality

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sylvemooniet · 1 year ago

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Dead Little Bird

Word count: 4,078 words

Centric: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd (father/son relation)

Trigger warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical death

Summary: which Bruce isn't Batman, but his children are still Robins.

Bruce was familiar with the "Robin" codename so many kids used to fight crime on their own. He already has met Dick Grayson, the little acrobatic orphan, so determined to protect the kids from bullies.

Dick was sometimes aggressive, Bruce couldn't say the contrary. He was surprised by how violently Robin beat the Wayne's kidnappers. Bruce couldn't blame him, that kid was an orphan, he needed to unleash his anger on something.

Many people didn't know how the famous billionaire playboy had soft spots for kids, especially orphans. After all, he was an orphan himself.

No one suspected a thing when the great Philanthropist adopted such a "poor helpless kid" like the little Grayson. It was funny how people theorized that the new Wayne was actually dating the mysterious Robin.

And still no one suspected when a new vigilante appeared on Bludhaven the same time the young Wayne moved away. Bruce was "alone" again. Even if he had Alfred, he missed his little Robin, but he was still proud of his Nightwing.

Then, there was a new kid. A new Robin. Such a bright smile and a great attitude, along with a fighting style obviously coming from the streets. The first time they met, he said to Bruce:

"Am I your new bodyguard now, old man?"

Wayne's memory of that day was clear as crystal, he remembers the boy headbutted one of the billionaire's kidnappers when saying that. That kid had a spark on his eyes, the spark Bruce already saw, on himself.

When the new Robin appeared in Bruce's life, the media joked about the philanthropist being a magnet to the vigilante children. And well, they weren't exactly wrong.

Besides Dick quickly revealing his identity to Bruce, it wasn't the same situation with the new kid. He even asked Alfred to do a research in all Gotham City's orphanages to find out more about the boy, but there was nothing, there was no one who looked like the new Robin. Bruce forgot the kid wasn't like Grayson, maybe he had parents, but would they really let a twelve-years-old fight crime?

Wayne offered the boy a decent Robin uniform, hence the kid's one was just dirty and fragile clothes that wouldn't help him fight crime. But the kid refused without thinking twice.

"I don't need your charity, old man. I know how to take care of myself."

The various scars on the kid's body proved he was lying. Even with the optimistic attitude and strength, there was still a truth: no Robin lasts too long.

Grayson was quite lucky, he became popular, he had support, he had Bruce. Dick was one of the only Robins who could grow up to be a better hero. It wasn't rare to see in the news about the police finding a body of a kid wearing red and green with a poorly sewed R brand.

And Bruce didn't want to see such a determined kid dead. But one night, he was just leaving a party, when he saw the kid fighting some thugs like always, but the boy obviously didn't have any advantage. Wayne's bodyguards got into action as he ordered, helping the little boy to win the fight.

But he was already unconscious. His small body was completely bruised, a reminder of a child who's already a soldier. It was unfair of a kid fighting against grown adults.

"Sir, he's still breathing."

So Bruce brought him home. It surprised Alfred to see him carrying a child in his arms again, he hadn't seen a scene like that since Dick had grown up.

When Grayson paid a visit in the next morning, he didn't expect to see a new Robin kid at the Wayne Manor. The butler told him about the last night, about how Bruce found him barely alive.

And the little boy was surprised when he woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room, with the billionaire old man he liked to provoke.

"Uhh, do you collect children or something?"

It was the first thing he said to Bruce when he woke up. He was still wearing his bloody clothes, but there was Dick's old clothes on the nightstand for him.

"Wasn't I supposed to be your bodyguard, old man? Not the contrary."

He tried to get off of the bed, but even after Alfred taking care of his wounds, it still hurt. Then, he just leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. His temper was obviously different from Dick's, and he was way more stubborn.

"What's your name, kid?"

Bruce asked once again, even if everytime the answer was the same.

"None of your business."

And the boy wouldn't change his reply so easily.

"Listen to me, I really need your name, and your parents' phone number, they must be worried about you."

For some reason, that made the kid chuckle like it was a really bad joke.

"I'm Jason. Jason Todd. And my parents aren't exactly available, y'know?"

"... What do you mean?"

Bruce already expected an answer coming from Jason. But if he really was an orphan, why Alfred didn't find anything about him while searching?

"Well, old man, my parents are pretty much dead."

"But, but… I made searches about you, you aren't in any orphanage or foster system. Is there anyone who's taking care of you?"

"As I said before, I can take care of myself, old man."

"But you're a child."

"Wrong, I'm a Robin."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, not even Grayson was that stubborn, but still, he wasn't Grayson, he was Todd.

"Why were you fighting so many people? They were double your size and clearly on advantage against you."

"They were stopping me from reaching my goal."

"And what is it?"

For a moment, Jason looked at him like what he truly was, a lost kid. Then, he looked away, almost like he was holding his tears, hiding them from Bruce and himself. He needed to be strong, like a real Robin.

"It doesn't matter, alright? Thanks for saving me or whatever, but I can just go now."

"Where do you live?"

"What are you? A stalker?"

Jason replied quickly, being extremely defensive.

"Jason, you said your parents are dead, where do you live? And with who?"

"Nowhere, and with no one. I'm no one's son."

"You're a kid, you can't just live on the streets."

Bruce said, his voice getting more soft as he tried to gain Jason's trust.

"Am I your new charity project, old man? Will you adopt me just like you did with the other Robin?"

Dick was spying the conversation through the slightly open door, but he backed away when Jason mentioned him. The boy was smart enough to connect the dots between Dick Grayson-Wayne and the acrobatic boy wonder.

"Listen to me, Jason. You at least need a place to live, and I need to compensate for the times you saved me."

"I don't need your help."

Jason tried to get out of the bed once again, but his body was shaking, still weak. He looked like a helpless kid, and he hated that.

"Jason, please, at least let me pay you a place to live. I know being Robin doesn't pay you."

"... Fine. But remember, you're not my father, and I'm not your trophy son."

==========

Kids were supposed to be easy to deal with. But as Jason stated various times, he wasn't a kid, he was a Robin, and being Robin gave him magic.

Both Alfred and Dick were surprised when Bruce told them he bought an apartment for a "random kid". Jason wasn't a random kid to him… Even if they weren't actually close to each other.

There was a kind of new routine in the Wayne Manor, at least once a week the little Robin came to ask Alfred to help him with the worst wounds he got and couldn't patch them himself. And sometimes he also came to return Bruce back to safety after another attempt of criminals to kidnap Bruce.

"You need to learn how to take care of yourself, old man."

Jason joked, wiping the blood out of his nose, he smiled, even after being hurt because of another fight. He was used to it, and not for just being Robin. But it wasn't a problem anymore, he had his Robin's magic.

And if Bruce was lucky enough, the little Todd would come by for dinner. He was hard to convince, but he still enjoyed being with Bruce, Alfred and sometimes, Dick.

And in an "unfortunate night", according to Jason, Grayson made up a nickname for him, and never stopped using it. "Little Wing", it was how he called the boy.

"When I get older, I'll be taller than you. You'll see who's the little one!"

That just made Dick laugh at him, he said Jason looked cute when he tried to threaten someone, and Alfred hid the knives just to guarantee the boy wouldn't take extreme measures.

Bruce thought of Dick as a reflection of himself, but Jason was unique. The boy wasn't like any of the Waynes, he was in fact a Todd, he was not part of the family.

Grayson and him were Robins, but they were different. Even when Dick was violent, it doesn't compare to how bruised the pimps Jason fought were. The news said this Boy Wonder was crazy, aggressive, the worst Robin Gotham City ever had.

"I can't wait to find this kid dead in a dark alley."

It was what Jason overheard from a cop another day. Once the policeman and the young vigilante met again, the man had an "accident" during work that broke his arm.

Alfred noticed the little boy was smiling a lot during dinner that day, even more than usual. And the butler knew that smile, a smile of a child who just did a mischievous thing.

"Master Jason, did you have a lot of fun today?"

"A lot, Alfred."

One day, a body was found under a balcony, it was presumed the man was pushed to his death. And on that balcony, there was Robin, the possible culprit. And people accused a child of murder.

"I didn't kill him! And what if I did? He literally violated a woman!"

Jason tried to justify himself to Bruce, who was worried about the boy, as he was needing to hide himself, afraid of getting arrested.

"Jason, you can trust me, have you done it?"

Wayne asked him with a soft tone, trying to comfort the little boy. He tried to reach his hand to touch Jason's shoulder, but he stepped back.

"Bruce, do you really think I'm a murderer!?"

The man didn't answer, and Jason felt his heart breaking, the boy thought he could finally trust someone. But he was still seen as a criminal, even to the person he thought… The person he thought could be a new father to him.

"Jason… I…"

Bruce stopped himself, as he noticed something. The Robin was crying, and he was actually being a child, not a hero. A child in despair to be trusted.

"Jason… I'm…"

He didn't let Wayne finish, he just ran away out of the manor. And Bruce didn't stop him. He broke the boy's trust, and he didn't deserve to say anything to him.

Bruce tried to be the father of a no one's son. And nobody is surprised he failed. The Wayne Manor isn't supposed to be a place for kids like Jason, who fought fate itself to survive.

But, a week later, the investigation stopped, Robin was no longer a suspect. It was very sudden, but the detectives with a new big quantity of money in their pockets wouldn't justify it.

And in the same night the investigations stopped. In the same rainy night, the window of the Wayne Manor was opened by an "intruder", who noticed the great Philanthropist on the couch, like he was waiting for someone.

The little "intruder" sat down with him, his head leaned on his shoulder. Bruce caressed the boy's soaked hair, which startled him a little bit, but he slowly gave in.

"I'm sorry, Jason."

Despite Bruce's morals, his codes, the laws. He would do anything for his sons, no matter what. And Jason knew that, and he finally felt safe.

==========

Jason spent his fourteenth and fifteenth birthday with the Waynes, and even if he didn't say it, he wanted to spend all his birthdays with them.

It didn't matter if the boy wasn't in the charity galas like Dick was. It didn't matter if he didn't show himself publicly as a Wayne. Bruce saw Jason as his little bird, as his son.

And Bruce was really proud of his son. Like Grayson, he was a hero. He watched how Todd was growing up, how he was growing better, and he was a hero Bruce could never be.

The Robin was always around in the manor, even if he wouldn't easily admit, he felt at home. All the dinners, the sleepovers, the movie nights, it felt like home. He finally had a home to come back to by the end of the day.

Bruce would make a surprise for Jason, finally getting the paperwork to adopt the little bird, to finally call him "son". It would be a surprise gift, right after him coming back from patrol as Robin.

Wayne waited excited, he knew Todd would be equally happy. He was so proud of what he became, and will be more proud when he finally can call this hero his son.

It was already late, and he still didn't come back. He tried calling him, hoping he just went directly to his apartment that night, it would be understandable, but nobody picked up the phone.

Bruce turned on the television, maybe Jason was late because he was in the middle of a big situation. It already happened sometimes, so it wouldn't be different from those times. But all that he heard was nothing about one of the Robins.

But Jason, he only heard the sound of his ribs breaking after yet another hit with that crowbar. His vision was completely blurry, and it was so hard to breathe. He looked over the woman that smoked while he was in pain.

Jason never told Bruce about how he was searching for his biological mother, just Alfred was helping him secretly, and he made the butler promise he wouldn't tell anyone.

But the little Robin didn't expect his mother to be a backstabber, and in that exact moment, the metal hit his back, breaking even more ribs. Then, he heard laughter.

The laughter of a maniac clown, the one who was enjoying so much causing pain to him. Sometimes he even joked about it, like it was the most funny thing to watch.

"Uh oh, the little bird got a broken wing, maybe your mommy could help you… Oops!"

Then, more laughter followed by another hit that made his eyes water again. Jason was feeling so weak, feeling the cold floor and his own blood accumulating under him.

"D-dad…"

Jason cried out, his voice hoarse and weak. That brought his mother's attention, she knew Willis Todd was dead. But that wasn't the father her son was calling for. He was calling for Bruce, even if he wasn't a vigilante like him, even if he couldn't fight anyone.

Jason just wanted to be in his father's arms again, even if he's dying. He just wanted to be home again.

"Awn, look! Little bird is calling for daddy. What a pity!"

He sobbed in silence, he couldn't give that clown the happiness for breaking him. Jason was broken, very broken, but still, he shouldn't cry, Bruce would probably be disappointed at him.

If his biological mother betrayed him, backstabbed him without thinking twice, Bruce would never save him, even if he knew about his current situation.

The boy's mind became foggy, probably because of so many times his head got hit by that fucking crowbar. The psychopath clown wasn't there anymore, but his mother was tied up. His only memories were of untying her, and a ticking sound, then, nothing.

Bruce found himself awake until very late, even if his mind felt asleep, it woke up, and unfortunately, to the sound of Vicki Vale's voice.

"... A sudden explosion occurred in a warehouse in Gotham City's south area. The GCPD is investigating what might have caused it."

The camera showed a lot of rubble, and various policemen around the area, searching for clues and possible bodies. And they found it.

"Attention! The police just found the body of a child!"

Bruce became startled, his heart was getting tight on his chest, and the tears were ready to come. And when the camera zoomed to a very familiar boy's body, he felt broken.

He didn't get any time for any other type of reaction, his emotions were taking total control of him, Bruce was no longer acting rational. Minutes later, he was exiting the car right in front of the crime scene.

"I can't believe it, Mister Wayne! What are you doing here!?"

And similar reactions were heard by him, but completely ignored as he walked towards his son's body, which was being taken by the police.

"Mister Wayne, you shouldn't come closer, this is a crime scene."

They tried to stop Wayne, but they failed, as he got Jason's limp body in his arms. The boy was already so cold, his eyes still open, all the blue going away. The blood was still wet, staining Bruce's clothes, but he didn't care.

His little bird was dead. His son was dead. Bruce thought the pain of his parents' death was unbearable, but he never thought he would have his son's body in his arms, so cold, so lifeless.

Bruce carefully closed the corpse's eyes, so it looked like the boy was just sleeping, but he knew he wasn't. He held his son tighter to his chest, and screamed. His screams were so painful, as his heart was completely shattered.

Alfred made sure the police and the media wouldn't talk about that moment. And the butler also made sure the boy would be buried with the Waynes, as he should be.

Jason wasn't as lucky as Dick, he wasn't an exception. His end was just like the other Robins. Dead, found brutally killed.

Grayson really wanted to see Jason grow up to prove he wasn't his Little Wing anymore. Grayson wished he could call his little brother his Big Wing.

Alfred really wanted to see Jason's mischievous smile once again. Alfred wished he could bake Jason's sixteenth birthday cake.

Bruce really wished he could have saved Jason. Bruce really wished he could see Jason's smile again. Bruce really wished to hear Jason calling him old man again.

Bruce wanted his little bird back.

==========

Both the media and the GCPD didn't want to admit it, but Gotham got worse after Jason's death. He was one of the best Robins the city ever had.

Dick spent more time in Gotham since that, to act both as Nightwing and comfort Bruce. Wayne needed his son to be with him, and even if Grayson wasn't the son he wanted, he wanted to make his father happy.

They just didn't expect to find Bruce's neighbor inside of the manor, wearing a Robin costume, while having the worst dark bags under his eyes.

Somehow, the little boy knew about the relation Bruce had with the Robins, he knew about Dick and also knew about Jason. The Waynes started to think that kid was a stalker.

The boy was Timothy Drake, who was clearly obsessed with the Robin concept, and the fact the most important Robins of the city were his neighbors, it made him very excited. Even if one was gone.

"C'mon, Bruce, could you resist this kid puppy's eyes?"

Somehow, Dick convinced the philanthropist to not report the kid to his parents, or even to the police. And Tim's parents didn't seem to care about his safety, since he was just running around as Robin without them worrying about him.

And the story repeated itself, with Bruce having another Robin under his wing. He expected the story would go differently, and he wouldn't need to hold his son's body again.

The years were going through, and still, every single day Bruce had visited Jason's grave, but still, he wasn't in the moment his son dug out of his own grave.

It wasn't a surprise when the philanthropist was once again kidnapped, criminals really liked abducting rich people. But he wasn't in panic, it was just like another Saturday, and he was just waiting for Tim to show up.

But it wasn't a Robin who showed up. A person with a red helmet entered the room, and even if Bruce nor the criminals could see his face, they knew he was pissed.

"You idiots can't do a thing right, I told you to not get him. You should give me a reason to not explode your heads right now."

The mysterious man said, and Bruce could feel some familiarity in his voice. The criminals didn't even dare to blink in the wrong moment, obviously scared by their leader.

"You should all go, and if any of you try eavesdropping, I'll cut your ears off."

They all exited immediately, even Wayne was scared by his attitude. And for some reason, he was freeing him from the restraints. That was a very different kind of mob boss.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, old man. I don't hurt you and you don't call those pigs, are we good?"

Bruce looked at him suspiciously, everything was so familiar, but he couldn't point it out.

"Also, don't call your bird boys, do you hear me?"

"You mean the Robins?"

"Exactly, old man. You keep collecting them, apparently. So, just leave, call your butler to take you or whatever."

"Why are you just letting me go?"

"Damn, how ungrateful of you. It's because you're not a bad rich person, if you were some like, I don't know, Lex Luthor, you'd be already dead."

"... Thanks."

"Just go already."

And when Bruce left the building, he almost immediately found Tim, who was in his Robin uniform. If Jason was alive, he would feel replaced.

Days later, the news was just about the infamous Red Hood, who was cleaning up the streets from crime, while staining them with blood.

And still, somehow, the Red Hood and Bruce kept meeting, as criminals still tried to steal from him. And for some reason, a mob boss was determined to protect him.

"Am I your new bodyguard now, old man?"

That phrase, those exact words, they were so familiar, it reminded him of his son. But if Jason was alive, he would think he was forgotten.

"Do I… Do I know you?"

Bruce asked, searching for eye contact even if the man hid his face behind that helmet.

"I saved your ass sometimes. Geez, old man, have you already forgotten? Most of the time, people don't forget about a man with a red helmet."

"No, it's not it. I feel like we've met before. Before all this."

If Jason was alive, he would think his father just moved on after his death.

"What if we did meet? Does something change?"

"You… You remind me of my son."

"Your… Son?"

If Jason was alive, he would have thought his death was meaningless to Bruce, or to anyone.

"My son, Jason."

And he was alive. The Red Hood removed his helmet, revealing the face Bruce missed seeing. Jason was older, but it was still him, even if he was changed. It was still his son.

Bruce was in complete shock as he tried to process the information his son was alive. Jason thought his father would back down, run away from the pain, he must have done the same when he was dead, right?

But Bruce's arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, like he was afraid he would lose his son again. Jason gasped in surprise, but returned the hug. He thought his dad forgot about him, but he didn't.

Wayne cried on his shoulder, and he noticed how tall his son got. He was his little bird, but he was so big now, completely grown up.

"Bruce…"

"I missed you, little bird, I missed you so much."

#dc comics #robin jason #jason todd #Bruce Wayne #good dad bruce wayne #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #no capes au #kinda #mentioned Dick Grayson #mentioned Tim Drake #red hood #no beta we die like Jason #bat family #robins #oneshot #brucie wayne #civilian bruce au

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gothamite-rambler · 2 days ago

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Jim: You know Bruce—

Batman: I am in my costume right now; call me by my hero name and stop smoking.

Batman swiped away the cigarette and tossed it on the ground.

Jim (pulling out another cigarette): Batman, you’ve had five Robins. I have no idea why the girl was the shortest; I liked her. But I'm curious, which one of them is your favorite?

Batman: I should be angry at that question, but none of them are here. Okay, I have a list and I rank them by skill set.

Jim: Explain.

Batman: The smartest Robin would be Red Robin. The best fighter? That’s the second Robin.

Jim: Really? I thought you would say the first one.

Batman: No, no. Nightwing became a good fighter eventually, mostly when he started his own hero stuff. He’s better at manipulation and flexibility.

Nightwing (on the comms): I freaking called it!

Batman groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes. Jim chuckled.

Jim: Your earpiece thing was accidentally on?

Batman: Mm-hm.

Red Hood (on the comms): I was your best fighter? Aww, I told you that my fighting style was necessary. I'm going to give you an actually good gift for Christmas this year.

Red Robin: I'm the smart one; I'll take it.

Robin: I didn’t get mentioned at all!

Jim: They’re arguing over each other?

Batman: Yep. Can I call it a night and just get coffee with you?

Jim (shrugging): Yeah, sure.

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rosaliasregalia · 9 months ago

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Hey y'all! I'm writing a Cursed!Tim fic, where he will get cursed just as Bruce is saved from the timestream. He'll survive and gain magic-ish powers.

It's not a bashing fic, we don't demonize anyone for being humans and making mistakes in this house, nor will I be infantilize Tim, he'll be a capable vigilante and (he might be a bit emotionally challenged /affectionate/ but generally) someone who knows his worth.

I'm looking for a beta to help me with the story, I don't know if there will be slash yet but there is going to be some gore and canon-typical violence, so if that sounds fun to you, and you're interested, please let me know!

#oh god it's gonna be so embarrassing when no body responds #but I want to be upfront about the story #it's not exactly light and fluffy #there will be fun shenanigans but also realism #so if you're interested #I'm looking for a beta reader #so that we don't die like all the other robins #beta reader #tim drake #batfam #batman #batfamily #red robin #dc comics

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jinjeriffic · 10 months ago

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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 6

Part 5

Most of the time, being the son of Batman was a point of pride for Damian. Today, it was an exercise in frustration. Not only had Father deemed him too emotionally compromised to participate in the investigation of his so-called brother. Not only was he benched from patrol until Batman returned from abroad. He also had to continue attending school as if nothing had happened! He could probably teach most of the classes better than the adults! Oh, but ‘socializing with his peers’ was deemed too important to miss out on.

No wonder Damian was in a foul mood when he returned home. It had been the last school day before fall break, and a week ago he had been looking forward to the opportunity to patrol without having to worry about getting up early in the morning. Then that damned apparition had dropped the bombshell that had upended all of Damian’s carefully laid plans. Now half of the family was off chasing leads and he was stuck at home cooling his heels. It wasn’t fair!

After doing his customary check on his pets, he had changed into training gear as soon as possible and was now in the process of running through the latest combat program Father had designed. The flow of dodge-weave-counter-strike was helping him vent his frustration and clear his head. And if the training bots ended up more damaged than usual, well that just served Father right. He wasn’t some hapless child to be grounded!

Spin. Strike. Jump. Slash. He was moving on instinct, letting his training take over. A symphony of violence the background track to his churning thoughts, the questions that had been plaguing him all week.

Brother of blood. What did that mean? A full brother? A half brother? The result of some ill-advised dalliance of his Father? Unlikely. The letter had been addressed to Damian Al Ghul, not Damian Wayne. A deliberate choice of words, most likely. A child of his Mother then. He couldn’t imagine Mother would sully herself with another man’s touch. Even after everything, she still loved Father in her own twisted way. Unless Grandfather had ordered her… Stop it!

Stab. Crouch. Roll. Slice.

Never buried but already mourned. Not a lab grown creation then, to be discarded casually. Mourning meant caring. Love. Did Father know something? The haunted look that had appeared in his eyes spoke of old grief. The same grief that still plagued him when memories of Todd or Damian’s death were close to the surface. But he had never spoken of another child. Would he even bother to tell them?

Strike. Throw. Close distance. Disarm.

Lightning and ice. Defibrillation? Some horror movie style reanimation? Cryofreeze? The entity had meta abilities, could it harness lightning and ice as well? A better son, a more powerful Demon’s Heir… No!

Side-step. Kick. Twist. Leg-sweep.

Strike down the Demon’s Head. Did that mean Grandfather? Or Damian himself if the old man died first? It would be just like Grandfather to arrange for Damian to be killed and replaced by a brother. To get revenge for Damian choosing Batman’s legacy over the League’s while hurting their family in the most intimate way possible. Killed by a brother he should have loved, who should have loved him… Fool!

Damian stopped as the gong sounded to mark the end of the program. Around him, the training bots returned to their starting positions, now significantly worse for wear. A few of them were disabled to the point of uselessness.

Damian sheathed his weapons and forced his breathing to slow as he started his cool down stretches. It wouldn’t do to be careless because of some emotional episode. He was more disciplined than that.

What could Death earn anyway? Death brought nothing but nightmares and pain and torment.

Damian shivered. He didn’t like thinking about his Death.

Shoving the memories firmly aside, he returned his training weapons to their respective places before heading over to the Batcomputer. He needed a distraction. Maybe he should call up Jon and see if he had any plans for fall break. Since Damian was benched he would need something constructive to do with his time. Surely with the two of them working together they would find some kind of criminal enterprise to topple in a Kansas cornfield.

Damian compiled the search strings for any unusual activity in the area and set it to run. Now it was a waiting game to see if anything of note turned up. Leaning back, he idly kicked the console, sending his chair into a lazy spin. If nothing turned up in Kansas, maybe he would widen his search to the surrounding states. If they flew Air Superboy, distance would hardly be an issue. Hell, if Jon was busy maybe he could go visit Richard. Bludhaven was never lacking in crime, and Father wouldn’t be able to complain about a lack of appropriate supervision during patrol. With Drake and Todd having left on a ‘roadtrip’ for at least a day…

Damian stopped his spinning and frowned. Now that he thought about it, it was highly unusual for his two older brothers to have left Gotham together and in their civilian identities. Especially with the Bats already shorthanded due to Father’s absence and Robin’s benching. He had been too distracted by the upcoming school day to make the connection when his brothers had mentioned their plans at breakfast that morning. And Drake had been investigating League activity… Damian’s fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing Drake’s security protocols with ease. If his brother had uncovered a League connection he had a right to know!

What he found among Drake’s recent search history was not what he expected. Some crackpot scientists from Illinois? That’s what had drawn his attention? Certainly, the older Robin had flagged some suspicious transactions and marked the Fentons as potential threats based on their inventions, but there were heroes closer to Amity Park that they could have foisted the investigation off on.

Damian drummed his fingers against his armrest. Something wasn’t adding up here. Pulling up everything he could find about the Fenton parents, he started looking through medical records, school records, articles… Suddenly, Damian’s heart slammed against his ribs. There, on the cover of a two year old magazine, was the face that had haunted him all week. With trembling fingers, he zoomed in on the image. It only took a few minutes to alter the hair and eye colour. It was unmistakably him. The boy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Damian himself, if slightly older and paler.

Swallowing hard, Damian scrolled through the magazine’s online archive to find the article mentioned on the title page. An almost extinct gorilla species. A chance discovery by then fourteen year old Daniel Fenton.

“Daniel,” Damian rolled the name around his mouth. A fairly common Western name. “Daniel. Danyal?” If he was Talia’s son, surely she would have used the Arabic version… no! He was jumping to conclusions!

Now having a name to go on, Damian dug deeper than Drake had bothered to. The birth certificate named a small town in Utah, but there were no records of a hospital admission. A home birth? There were no records of the Fentons having a residence in that state. No medical records of prenatal care either, though there were for the birth of the older sibling. Had the pregnancy gone unnoticed? Possible, if unlikely. There had been a vehicle registration for a motorhome during that time period though. Had the Fentons been living on the road when their son was born? Or had they acquired the child some other way? If he was an Al Ghul who would have spirited him away to the USA?

The Fentons had settled down in Amity Park about six months after Daniel’s birth, purchasing the residence they apparently used to this day. From there, his records were fairly standard and unremarkable, though there were a higher than average number of doctor’s visits for minor household accidents. Not enough to get flagged by CPS, but certainly worrying if potential mad science was involved. Daniel’s school records showed average grades, with higher scores in Maths and Science. At age fourteen however, his academic performance took a sharp dip, with an uneven performance on tests and numerous unexcused absences. His teachers noted frequent inattentiveness in class or Daniel outright falling asleep. Someone had submitted reports of bullying and suspicious bruises, but the case was dropped and never followed up on. His grades had evened out since then, but the unexcused absences persisted.

Damian knew enough about the trials and tribulations of teenage superheroics to recognize a pattern. And it certainly looked like Daniel fit the bill. If he had acquired meta abilities two years ago it probably took some time to get a handle on them and find a balance between his legal and illegal activities.

Damian steepled his fingers together. There was only so much his digital investigation could reveal. It was time for some fieldwork.

Part 7

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #damian wayne #robin #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#no beta we die like danny #damian snoops on tim's browser history #and gets more than he bargained for #damian thinks he would have made a good brother #and having a brother would have made his childhood less miserable

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hereforanepilogue · 2 years ago

Text

everything that i say and do (in your eyes is always wrong)

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After Vecna, Eddie tried to make himself…not different, but more palatable. It wasn’t even hard - the doctors had shaved his head while he was out, and all his clothes had sunk into the Upside Down with the trailer.

He wasn’t normal - he never would be - but if he tried to quiet down? Wore plainer clothes, and played his music quieter in the van, and didn’t go back to playing with the band (as if their parents would have let him up the driveway, as if he had a guitar to play)? It wasn’t hard.

It made it easier on Wayne, on the kids. On Steve.

And wasn’t that a surprise? He hadn’t expected to be left in the dirt, after Vecna, if he survived. He just expected the slow withdrawal, as the kids aged out of hanging out with a high school dropout, and as the older group went off to college. But they clung, and people weren’t kind to them, and Eddie being a little less made that a little easier.

Then Steve kissed him, and told him he wanted more, and that one day they would get out of there together. If only Eddie could hold out a little while longer. He watched Robin and Wheeler the Elder go off to college, and the little sheepies got busy with their own campaigns in the secret, under-the-table Hellfire, but Eddie had Wayne and Steve.

Eddie almost forgot why he started acting like he did in the first place.

“You know,” Wayne told him one day - they were even more like ships in the night now, with Wayne still working nights from the new trailer and Eddie shacked up with Steve half the time - “I don’t know what happened in March, but you ain’t been this quiet since you were about this high.” He’d held his hand up in front of his ribs.

Eddie had been twelve when he moved in with Wayne, and he guessed he must look closer to that kid now than he had in years. So he started trying to fix it. He hunted in earnest for a new leather jacket, and a new denim jacket so he could cannibalize his bloodstained old vest, and band shirts to replace his old ones. It was thrilling, honestly, after he stopped mourning for what he’d lost.

Still, the transformation was a slow one. He still got glares when he showed his face around town, and even when he was with Steve [his knight, his ever-present guardian] they couldn’t be affectionate. And he understood that, obviously. He was always being watched, they had to be extra careful, and he knows it would be worse for Steve, who’s always been golden. A freak can get away with a certain level of freakiness, even when he’s playing at normal.

It comes to a head almost a year after the boathouse.

~~~

“When are we getting out of here?” Eddie moans, draped over the couch. His hair is long enough to tickle the base of his neck annoyingly. Steve is in the other room, cooking - he never liked to use the trailer if they could avoid it. He didn’t want to get in Wayne’s space.

“Soon, man. When the kids graduate, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I mean -”

“I just. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, you know?” Steve walks into the living room, glancing at the hook in the foyer where Eddie’s new and improved battle vest was hanging. Some of the patches still had blood stains on them.

“You could make it a little easier for them, I guess.”

“What?” Eddie is suddenly, painfully aware of the awkwardness of his pose, his arms twisted to press his hands into the crevice at the back of the couch, feet stuck between the cushions, head hanging over the edge. But he’s frozen.

“I just -” Steve sighs and scrubs his hand down his face, then rests it on his hip. He leans into the doorframe, in a move that Eddie knows is one of his worst plays at being casual. “You’re - you know I - you’re getting weird again, and people are still freaked out by everything that happened.”

“I’m getting weird again?”

“That came out wrong, you know -”

“I’ve always been weird, Steve, what are you talking about?”

“I mean you’re showing it now! I know you want to dress how you want to dress, but it just - maybe it’s not time yet.”

“Should I cut my hair again too?” Eddie scrambles to sit up, and ends up having to slither off of the couch on his belly. He just stands up instead.

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, you could grow it out later?” Steve protests. Something is starting to burn in the kitchen, but neither of them move.

“It’s not -” Eddie takes a breath. This is why he never tried hard to talk to people who didn’t come to him, he thinks. He’s never had to explain this before. “I’m not just dressing like this because I like it. I mean I am, but it’s not…it’s not just that.”

“What do you mean, it’s not just because you like it? That doesn’t make any sense. And I’m not saying don’t dress like you want at - at my place, and at home and stuff. Just maybe not when you’re -”

“What, in public? Around the good, God-fearing public of Hawkins who were just out for my blood a year ago? I’m not like you, Steve, that doesn’t work for me.”

And Eddie has never been good at thinking fast, when it comes to serious things. He’s snappy, sure, he’s never not had a comeback to a bully, or to his friends’ ribbing, but he could never figure out how he felt, and he’s no better at it now. He’s just empty. Faramir on the way to Osgiliath, knowingly doomed.

But he knows he isn’t that, either, because he’s never been destined to win. And Steve still hasn’t said anything.

“Is that it? You - what - you’re just gonna bait them until they kill you?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie says.

“We can’t leave yet, Eddie.”

“I can’t stay here,” he can feel his brain melting into a stuck record, and he doesn’t know what will happen if he tries to move but he has to try, right? “I want to leave, I don’t want to be here.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes.” He feels possessed. “I will say no more yet.”

And he leaves, and Steve doesn’t stop him. He has the forethought to grab his jacket, at least, and when he gets to his car it occurs to him that he left a stack of tapes in Steve’s room last night, but Steve didn’t follow him and he can’t go back, so he pushes them out of his mind and drives away.

One of them was his new copy of The Last in Line and he thinks about having to replace his favorite album twice in one year, and then he’s home and he doesn’t know how he got there.

“Wayne?” he says as he walks into the trailer. Whines, really, his voice has gone all weak, but Wayne hears it (he always does) and sits up on the couch. It’s early for him to be up, earlier than they would usually eat their breakfast/dinner, but Eddie had planned to bring leftover’s from Steve’s.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“I - remember when you talked to Ray about transfers?”

“C’mere,” Wayne says, and Eddie lets himself be pulled into Wayne’s space like a magnet. He sits next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and get overwhelmed by the scent of oil and metal that follows him home from the plant. Wayne rests his hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, and he’s twelve again.

“It’d be nice not to have to wash paint off the walls every weekend, right?” Eddie says. He can feel the pause where he might have laughed, if he could’ve landed the tone he wanted.

“What happened?” Wayne says. It’s not the “let’s go, grab your bag” that Eddie is secretly barely-not-hoping for, but Wayne has always known him better than anyone.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” Eddie says. Wayne opens his mouth, so Eddie reassures him. “Nothing happened. I mean, something - I just can’t keep acting like this. I’m not. I tried, I really did, but I can’t make it work.”

“Ah, kid,” Wayne says. It’s the voice Wayne had used when Eddie got sent home in the fourth grade for crouching on a desk and barking at a kid who made fun of him, when Eddie had gone to Wayne’s trailer instead of his parents’. He’d used it when Eddie showed up with his hair buzzed off the first time when he was seven, and he’d used it after the cop that dropped Eddie off after his dad’s last arrest had left, and he’d used it both times Eddie told him he’d flunked.

Eddie leans into it, lets his forehead drop on Wayne’s shoulder.

“I’ll - I’m not just running, okay? I just thought I could hold out, and I can’t. And I don’t think he’s ever gonna leave, you know?”

“S - Harrinton?” Eddie’s mouth twists at the correction, and Wayne taps on his back - once, one finger - when he tenses up. Eddie leans towards him, just a hair, then leans back.

“Yeah.”

“Did he say that?”

“I mean, I don’t really remember. He - he told me I’m weird again and that I should tone it down.” Wayne rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s back once, then stills again.

“Well, that’s bullshit there, kiddo. I’ve never met a person alive that wasn’t a bit weird, and anyone who says they ain’t is kidding themselves. How’s that song you like go again?”

“‘You’re no dif-’ It’s not the same, though.”

“Look, Ed.” Wayne sighs. “You were never good at hiding how you were different, and that ain’t a bad thing, but it means you’ve gotta find people who’ll stick to you anyway.”

“I know. It’s not his fault, though. That I’m hard to stick to.”

“You ain’t, though,” Wayne says. “You know this kind of thing ain’t easy, even if it’s just your time isn’t matched up to his.”

“I just don’t think he’s ever gonna leave, and I can’t - I can’t stay here. I can’t be like this anymore.”

“So do what you’ve gotta do, and tell them what it is and why. Give them a path to follow you down, if they’re ever ready.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath - he doesn’t know when it got so hard to breathe, but it’s starting to get better.

“Okay. I. I’ll call tomorrow?” He looks at Wayne’s hand, curled loosely over his uncle’s knee. It’s as close to Wayne’s face as he can get his eyes to go.

“Sounds good, Ed. I’ll start looking into a transfer - nothing permanent, if you change your mind, but I know you’re not like to bring it up if you’re not serious, so just get your end of things worked out and I’ll get mine.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m not easier.” Wayne is quiet for a moment.

“Don’t be sorry, kid. You being miserable isn’t easier.” He taps between Eddie’s shoulders again, then gets up. “I think it’s breakfast time, anyway. Eggs good?” Eddie nods, but Wayne is already on his way to the kitchen.

~~~

The next day he calls around - the guys in the band first, always. Then Steve, before he talks to Robin or Nancy or the kids. The conversations are all short, but he knows it’ll be a couple weeks before Ray can get Wayne set up at his cousin’s plant out of state, so there’s time.

“You know I l- care about you, Eds. Eddie.”

“I know. I don’t wanna not be with you, I just can’t keep living like this. And I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to leave.”

“I’m just not ready yet. When the kids graduate, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s the problem, Stevie.” Eddie feels - not numb, but distant. Like someone turned a key and his thoughts are flowing in order and he has the words for them, and he has to say them even when it feels like the worst thing he’s ever said. “You’re not even thinking about an after, and all I have is an after. The only thing I have waiting for me in Hawkins is hiding everything about myself until I suffocate.”

“I’m in Hawkins. And the kids,” Steve says. He would sound controlled to anyone else, but as always, Eddie knows his tells, and he’s breaking.

“I love you, but I can’t hide forever. And you might be able to, if you want to, but you shouldn’t have to either. We’re not going far - Wayne’s getting a job in Pittsburgh, I think. Right on the way to Robin’s, if you wanna visit.” Steve gulps, and Eddie gets the abrupt sense that Steve thinks he’s lying. “I - I mean that, really. I’m not gonna promise I’ll wait for you, not forever, but I’m not exactly gonna get over you, you know?”

“You love me?”

“I do, yeah,” Eddie says.

“But you’re leaving.”

“I’m gonna die here, Steve, even if I don’t get burned at the stake. It’s not - I’m not me, anymore, and I can’t keep pretending, and it’s not just how I dress or whatever. I know I’m not normal, but it’s not a choice any more than being a queer is, so I’ll get you my new number, and when - if - you’re ready, I’ll pick up.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

~~~

Two weeks later, the last Munsons in Hawkins pack up and leave.

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#eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #ria planted this idea into my brain with a song a week and a half ago and ive been gnawing on it since then #like its me so obviously steve will figure out what he wants out of life and find it w eddie and robin there #and theyll all be okay #but not yet unforch #eddie munson is autistic #also i cant write eddie pov without him having a meltdown #thats my secret cap im always projecting #no beta we die like steve in s5 #gratuitous lotr references #my fic

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