#it hurts a lot for what it is

[melit0n]

I'm so done with him

[son1c]

there's no temptress quite as irresistible as the mid afternoon sleepies

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heh...Literally nothing personal, kid.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[vaguely-concerned]

on the one hand I think inner demons could stand to have a bit more romanced rook specific content, but on the other hand the underlying in-built implication that 'yours is the one true voice of comfort and safety in my inner world' is a sentiment and intimacy so way beyond the romantic or the platonic or any secret third thing you could care to name that it makes me lose my entire poor little mind a bit. it's so big and fundamental — near-existential — that in that exact moment at least the distinctions kind of seem irrelevant.

all the people lucanis' mind conjures up along the way are relationships he has that are unavoidably mixed and fraught in some ways even when they're also full of love (they are fraught BECAUSE they're full of love) — the good in them inseparable from things that hurt him at the same time. (it's about: the basic disorganized attachment patterns this poor guy is dragging around with him. careful with those, they're dellamorte heirlooms. what you love also inevitably hurts you and you won't be allowed to have one without the other, you have to surrender parts of your soul to hold on to what little you have left: this is the story up until now.) and the idea that rook isn't that to him — that beneath the fear of wanting them when romanced (which is more its own separate thing because within this psychology, actively wanting something and not just clinging on for dear life to even a meager status quo lest you lose it is in itself dangerous bordering on catastrophic), this is a relationship where there isn't resentment, or guilt, or shame, or dread, or rage, or self-hate, or any of the other emotions that keep him paralyzed, unable to move this way or that. no debts, nothing owed of yourself and your soul's substance except what you can freely and safely and happily give. love and freedom don't coexist — but, I mean, you're almost starting to make me think........... unless...👀👀👀. the unconditional and undramatic 'you are here and I am here with you, you can be exactly how you are right now with me and it's safe for us both even though you're afraid it won't be, I'm not going anywhere' acceptance rook shows him here that he returns to them in the big romance scene, when it's rook who needs it. the way he's just. standing there in the center of it all, like a child desperately helplessly waiting to be found, hiding in the place he hopes you'll know to look first. (rook does know. it's one of the first things they say in there.)

in short the most important room in his little mind palace for the romance is the very first room — the one where rook isn't. where, in fact, rook cannot be, because they disprove the entire structure of the place with their existence and presence in his life. with everyone else he's putting words in their mouths about what they think of him, and rook is the one who actually gets to come in to speak their own words to him — and have him listen. ('he'll listen to you, he always listens to you', 'your voice is a comfort'.) of course rook isn't present anywhere else in there — at the risk of stating the obvious to a tedious degree, they aren't one of the locks, they're bringing the key. in the very finest 'the messenger and the message' sort of way.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

oh noooo or whatever

bonus aka The Real Motive Behind This:

SURPRISE double bonus. textless ver of the first pic under the cut

[tapakah0]

OKAY I REALLY LIKE HOW HOLLY MIGHT POSSIBLY BE A MUCH MORE ACTIVE AND ALIVE PERSON I WILL JUST SIT IN MY CORNER AND WAIT Warning, suggestive content with Ecliptica and Oscar because apparently I love this ship shipping in the sea WHEEEEEEZE

[lucabyte]

Perceptive kid, I wonder just how much they pretend not to overhear.

[bunnieswithknives]

Dev this is serious stop beatboxing.

[natalievoncatte]

“Open your eyes and look at what you did.”

Lena was tired. Fixing the world was heavy work, especially when it involved cracking the secrets of the ultimate weapon of a dead empire. Myriad was tucked away safely in her lab behind shielding and laser grids and the most advanced security systems in the world, but was most of all protected by Kara’s reputation. Supergirl couldn’t just smash her way into a building and steal something, especially not now, with so much public scrutiny against her.

Lena was expecting a night at home. Not to relax -she hasn’t relaxed until her brother’s wormy lips, turning blue in death, spilled those four little words and cracked her heart in half, broke it into so many pieces that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men and not even Supergirl could put it together again. What was left of her capacity for that kind of love was gone now. Lex had started the process of ripping it out.

Lena has finished it, casting the bloody shreds on the icy floor of a mausoleum in the arctic, not turning back even once to see.

She knew the DEO was watching her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake that she could seize on. She knew they were itching to take her out. Kara would probably lead the charge herself. She’d crow about how she didn’t want to do this and didn’t want to hurt Lena and then she’d perp walk her like a villain of the week.

It wasn’t remorse that swirled in her stomach. It wasn’t regret that iced her veins. It wasn’t sorrow that made her eyes burn, and it wasn’t doubt that made the clicks of her heels echo in her empty lifeless penthouse.

She did not feel any of those things. Soon, no one ever would again. A world without lies, without strife, without pain. Those twisting, burning emotions would be gone. For everyone.

For her.

Lena froze when she heard the soft click of a hammer being thumbed back on a pistol.

“Turn around.”

Lena tensed. Alex. She should have expected this- Alex didn’t care about the rules when it came to her sister.

Slowly, Lena turned. Alex was right behind her, gun in one hand, phone in the other. She started to play a video on the screen. Lena recognized it at once as the Fortress of Solitude.

“Why?” Alex choked out. “Why did it have to be you?”

Lena pressed her eyes shut, scrambling for something to say. There was a real chance that this confrontation ended with her in a pool of blood on the floor.

“Open your eyes, you bitch! Open your eyes and look at what you did!”

Lena opened them and was confronted with what she had refused to see before, what she had turned from before portalling out. Like a biblical prophet she knew that if she but turned back for a last look she’d have been undone.

Alex recorded Kara locked in the cage as she approached, calling her sister’s name. Kara didn’t respond. She simply lay curled on the floor, faint green scratches scored in her exposed skin. As Alex drew nearer, Lena could hear Kara making a peculiar sound- a rhythmic, trilling thrum, a deep basso rumble as if she were… purring.

And sobbing.

Lena tried to look away but Alex’s expression tightened. Lena forced herself to stare into the screen- the picture blurred as Alex must have been fumbling with the Kryptonian controls. Finally, the crystal cage retracted.

“Kara,” Alex was saying. “Kara, oh my god, where’s Lena? Is she alright?”

Lena flinched. Alex’s jaw tightened as their eye briefly met.

Kara’s face was a mask of pain and grief, clouded with an agony deeper than any physical hurt.

“It was Lena.”

“What?”

“It was Lena. She took Myriad from the armory and she… she was so mad, Alex. It was like she h-hated me. She was lying the whole time after I told her who I was, she already knew and she was so mad. Alex I think she hates me now.”

Kara began to sob and make that damned purring sound at the same time.

“Don’t hurt her,” Kara whimpered, “don’t hurt her, Alex. She’s good, I promise she’s good she just needs our help.”

Alex turned off the video and pressed the muzzle of her gun to Lena’s forehead.

Lena closed her eyes.

“I have every reason to,” Alex began.

“Do it,” Lena hissed. “It’s what we both want, just fucking do it. She’ll get over it.”

“No,” Alex choked out, her voice drowning in emotion. “No she won’t, ever. She has an eidetic memory. If I blow your fucking head off like I should, her last memory of you will be that, what you did to her in her most sacred place, forever.”

“Good,” Lena snapped, opening her eyes. “Good. Then she’ll know how I feel.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Like she tore my heart out. I believed in her. I gave myself to her in a way I never have for anyone else. I let her in after I swore on my mother’s grave I’d never let anyone else hurt me like… like someone else did. She hammered her way into my life with her kindness and her concern and her comfort and it was all a FUCKING LIE, Alex!”

Lena sucked in a hitching breath and went on, forcing herself to go on as she blinked to force the tears from her eyes.

“It was all a lie. I’m just a Luthor to her, to you, to all of you. I sat in that apartment on game nights and movie nights and you all knew. You all knew, and you mocked me. So many cryptic comments and weird little jokes and now I know why. I let myself believe it. I let myself believe she wanted me. She kept trying to tell me something over and over and she kept backing away from it and…”

Lena froze.

The gun fell away, and Alex just stared at her.

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking God,” Alex gasped.

“No,” Lena protested, “no it’s not that!”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Holy fuck, how did I not see this before? You bought a billion dollar publishing company on a whim for her. The flowers, the way you looked at me before she told you I’m her sister. Jesus. Jesus Christ, Lena. You God damn drama queen.”

“I’m a drama queen? You pointed a gun at my head!”

Alex racked the slide back, and turned the weapon so Lena could see the follower of the empty magazine had locked it open. It was unloaded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lena screeched.

“I came here to tell you to give me Myriad back and stay the hell away from my sister,” said Alex.

“You pointed a real gun at my head! I don’t care if it was unloaded, the first rule of gun safety is…”

“You thought it was something else,” said Alex.

“God damn it,” Lena began, but Alex cut her off.

“You thought she was working up to tell you something else. You thought she was going to confess her love, didn’t you?”

Lena went completely still.

She had know it, of course. She had known it the way that she knew the sun would rise in the east and set in the west, the way way she knew the stars would shine and the tide would beat against the shore. She had known it in the hollows of her bones, in places she forgot she could feel.

She had not known she knew it.

Lex’s words buffeted her from memory and she felt a knew shattering, even deeper this time.

“I fucked up,” someone said, only it was Lena, her own voice echoing from somewhere far distant. She was only dimly aware of the painful jolt in her tailbone as she slid down the cabinet behind her and her ass landed on the hardwood floor.

“When Lex told me, he proved it. He proved it. I didn’t want to see it but he proved it to me. I’m not what she wants. She’ll never want me like I want her.”

Alex looked down at her and Lena watched her expression shift, dancing through a dozen different emotions.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“You have anything to drink here? Something good, I don’t want to pussy around with box wine. This is a whiskey occasion.”

Perplexed, Lena simply said, “Side cupboard, there’s a bottle of single malt and some tumblers.”

Alex didn’t bother with the glasses. She took out the bottle and uncapped it, whistling softly before she took a long pull straight from the bottle.

“Smooth,” she said, not even wincing. “Shit, this bottle probably costs a month of my rent.”

“It was my dad’s favorite,” Lena muttered. “My first drink was that scotch. He gave me a little sip when I was twelve. Lillian screeched at him for it.”

“She would, she’s a thundering bitch,” said Alex.

Alex sat down and passed Lena the bottle. She took a drink and passed it back, and they sat there in silence for a while, passing drinks back and forth.

“See I’m not a shrink or anything,” said Alex, “but if I had to analyze this situation I think what I see is you hurting Kara hoping that she’ll hurt you back and validate your feelings so you can stop feeling sad about her.”

“Fuck you,” Lena muttered.

“Not my type. Besides, bro code. My sister has dibs.”

Lena almost spat out a mouthful of scotch. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know when she’s doing the zoom zoom thing, she has a comms piece in her ear. I listen in on what she’s doing,” Alex began to imitate Kara in a grating falsetto. “Lena you have to jump!”

“What?”

“Remember that time she was going to let the entire city’s water supply be poisoned to save you?”

Lena took another pull before passing the bottle back.

“Yeah,” said Lena, not caring that her Irish accent was slipping out.

“Or that time she flew you to the DEO after Edge poisoned you?”

“She saves people all the time,” Lena protested.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t bridal carry them to safety and moon over them like a lovesick teenager and do the whole brushing their hair back thing. She says something corny and flies off. Unless it’s you. The whole world goes on pause when it’s you.”

“It can’t be.”

Alex took a way too long drink and looked at her.

“Did it never occur to you that she might have two secrets? That the one might compel her to keep the other?”

Lena rubbed at her eyes. The whisky was weighing heavily on her, and before she knew it, she was sobbing.

To her utter shock, Alex rubbed her back.

“Here’s what we do. You and me go get Myriad,”

“I’m too drunk to drive.”

“Then call your chauffeur, you spoiled rich brat,” Alex snapped, “and we go get Myriad and we go back to the DEO. You apologize and you and Kara talk this out, and you remember that if you ever physically harm my sister again I actually will shoot you.”

“Also,” said Lena. “You and I. You and I will go get Myriad, not you and me.”

Lena yanked the bottle back and finished it.

“Okay. Okay fine, let’s-“

There was a double thud as boot heels hit the balcony, a sound Lena had long grown used to. She and Alex both watched as Kara slid the balcony door open and swept into the penthouse, cape flaring majestically behind her.

God she was so pretty, and so handsome. She was like a brave knight in some fairytale, head bowed and jaw set like she was marching to a battle she wasn’t sure she could win.

Lena’s chest ached.

“We need to talk,” Kara intoned. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore, but I can’t let you do something you’ll regret forever. I…”

She trailed off as she saw a very drunk Alex sitting next to a very drunk Lena Luthor, the pair sitting against Lena’s kitchen cabinets and dishwasher, respectively, having clearly finished off the empty bottle of scotch that sat between them.

“What the hell?” said Kara.

“Did she just cuss?” said Alex.

“She did,” said Lena.

“What is this? What are you two doing? Alex, is that your gun?”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “I’m gonna get an Uber so you two can talk this out.”

“What?” Kara said, utterly baffled.

As she stood, Lena drew her legs up and hugged her knees. She looked away at first, then looked up and made herself meet Kara’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

With a tenderness that belied her strength, Kara gently raised Lena to her feet. She’d kicked off her heels and Kara loomed over her, soft hands that could crush steel resting gently on her arms. Lena couldn’t bear the weight of her concern. Seeing the worry in Kara’s eyes, the unconditional compassion, hurt her as much as staring into the sun.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” said Kara. “I’m the one who should apologize. You were right, Lena. I forced myself into your life and pushed past all your barriers but I never lowered mine. I tried to live in your heart but made you live like a guest in mine. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better,” Lena whispered. “I want you.”

Kara went very still.

“You want me?”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Kara.”

Kara took a half step forward and pulled Lena into an embrace, guiding her into a hug. As those arms like stone walls curled around her and the cape sheltered her against Kara’s unnatural, fever-hot warmth, Lena choked back a hitching sob. It almost felt like it would be okay.

“It’s alright,” Kara whispered. “It’ll be okay. We can come back from this.”

“How? I hurt you, Kara.”

“I forgive you.”

“You can’t just-“

“Shhh,” Kara nuzzled against the crown of Lena’s head. “I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

[elfcollector]

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (2009) — developed by bioware.

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[shotmrmiller]

soap doing the let's make one of the 141 guys jealous because i'm close to you and they're not but he doesn't pull away talking about thank me later. he takes it as far as you're willing to let him go and if he fucks, he fucks 🤷🏻‍♀️

definitely bragging about it later. tasted like honey, bonnie did. can still smell 'er on my fingers. nabbed 'er knickers too, wanna see? (he ain't showing shit because he worked hard for that slip of string you call undergarments)

calls you his ball and chain once and he's showing up to your room with a busted lip and black eye

[leo-artista]

My favorite types of gf fics are the ones about the "missing scene" of Stan and Ford switching clothes in the fearamid, because there's just so many possibilities to be explored there- how did Ford react when Stan told him the plan? Was he angry, shocked, scared? Did he beg Stan not to do it? Did he reluctantly accept it because he knew it was the only way or did Stan have to convince him about it? Did they apologize to each other? Did they hug? Or did they both just glance stoically at each other, reminiscing on their regrets and leaving things unsaid, because ultimately what good would it do if Stanley was just going to forget about it anyway?

Part of me believes the reconciliation between the two of them started there, with both of them realizing how much time they had wasted because Stanley was basically about to die, and suddenly all the anger and resentment they had felt towards each other seemed so meaningless.

[vaguely-concerned]

'my cousin is all stomach and no heart' is such a funny thing for illario to tell rook if he maybe is picking up on a little bit of a Vibe going on there. the 'LMAO. well good luck with that friend. better hotties than you have tried and failed and dashed themselves against the legendarily unamorous cliffs of my cousin's complete obliviousness and lack of interest to no avail. (optional 'may I suggest a more hah-hem *undoes another few buttons on his shirt that thing is open almost to his navel now it's borderline obscene* available dellamorte for your consideration. I mean if you're like in the market for one anyway' devious undertone as you see fit)' energy is off the charts.

(illario is above all a funny petty bitch and that's why I love him so indescribably. no no lucanis is right we need him around to drop shade like this he is in fact also an essential crow. we all contribute in our own ways)