#part 2 is good I hope

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[skitastc]

Brownies❤

Ink!sans by Comyet

Palette Roller by angeutblogo

Paperjam by 7goodangel

Undertop!Gaster by stylincheetah

[lilybug-02]

Eimmet High...temmiE high. OMG!

Part 28 || First || Previous || Next...(Hiatus)

--Full Series--

Next update may take...much longer! I have finals and an internship and not to mention I have to draw- A LOT :')

[birb-catto]

I love the wholesomeness of this fandom

Cale sacrificing himself:

TCF fandom: YES YES YEAAAH MORE BLOOD MOAAAR

DHB sacrificing himself:

TCF fandom: NOOOOOO baby don't die 😭

[caramelly-art]

be on your way - daughter

[crowlixcx]

So if you loved me so much Why'd you go?

[starryarts]

made a cover for my soriku playlist

[bowtiepastabitch]

Historical Analysis: class and injustice in 'The Ressurrectionists' minisode

Alternate title: why we're tempted to be upset with Aziraphale and why that's only halfway fair

Okay so first off huge thanks to @makewayforbigcrossducks for asking the question (and follow-up questions lol) that brought me to put these thoughts all together into a little history nerd ramble. That question being, Why is Aziraphale so clueless? Obviously, from a plot perspective, we know we need to learn some lessons about human moral dilemmas and injustices. But from a character perspective? A lot of this minisode is about Aziraphale being forced to confront the flaws of heavenly logic. This whole idea that "poverty is ineffable" basically boils down to 'yeah some people are poor, but their souls can be saved just as if not more easily that way, so it's not our problem and they probably deserve it anyway for not working hard enough,' a perspective that persists in many modern religious circles. Aziraphale isn't looking at the human factor here, he's pretty much purely concerned about the dichotomy of good and wicked human behavior and the spiritual consequences thereof, because that's what he's been told to believe. His whole goal is to "show her the error of her ways." He believes, quite wholeheartedly, that he's helping her in the long run.

"the lower you start, the more opportunities you have"

So here's what we're asking ourselves: Why did it take him so bloody long to realize how stupid that is? Sure, he's willing to excuse all kinds of things in the name of ineffability, but if someone in the year of our lord 2023 told me he was just now realizing that homelessness was bad after experiencing the past two centuries, I'd be resisting the urge to get violent even if he WAS played by Michael Sheen.

Historical context: a new type of poverty

Prior to the 19th century (1800s), poverty was a very different animal from what we deal with now. The lowest classes went through a dynamic change leading up to the industrial revolution, with proto-industrialization already moving people into more manufacture-focused tasks and rapid urbanization as a result of increasingly unlivable conditions for rural peasantry. The enclosure of common lands and tennancies by wealthy landowners for the more profitable sheep raising displaced lots of families, and in combination with poor harvests and rising rents, many people were driven to cities to seek out new ways of eeking out a living.

Before this, your ability to eat largely would have depended on the harvest in your local area. This can, for our purposes, be read as: you're really only a miracle away from being able to survive the winter. Juxtapose this, then, with the relatively new conundrum of an unhoused urban poor population. Now if you want to eat, you need money itself, no exceptions, unless you want to steal food. Charity at the time was often just as much harm as good, nearly always tied deeply up in religious attitudes and a stronger desire to proselytize than improve quality of lie. As a young woman, finding work in a city is going to be incredibly difficult, especially if you're not clean and proper enough to present as a housemaid or other service laborer. As such, Elspeth turns to body snatching to try to make a better life for herself and Wee Morag. She's out of options and she knows it.

You know who doesn't know that? Aziraphale.

The rise of capitalism

The biggest piece of the puzzle which Aziraphale is missing here is that he hasn't quite caught onto the concept of capitalism yet. To him, human professions are just silly little tasks, and she should be able to support herself if she just tried. Bookselling, weaving, farming, these are all just things humans do, in his mind. He suggests these things as options because it hasn't occurred to him yet that Elspeth is doing this out of desperation, but he also just doesn't grasp the concept of capital. Crowley does, he thinks it's hilarious, but Aziraphale is just confused as to why these occupations aren't genuine options. Farming in particular, as briefly touched on above, was formerly carried out largely on common land, tennancies, or on family plots, and land-as-capital is an emerging concept in this period of time (previously, landowners acted more like local lords than modern landlords). Aziraphale just isn't picking up on the fact that money itself is the root issue.

Even when he realizes that he fucked up by soup-ifying the corpse, he doesn't offer to give them money but rather to help dig up another body. He still isn't processing the systemic issues at play (poverty) merely what's been immediately presented to him (corpses), and this is, from my perspective, half a result of his tunnel-vision on morality and half of his inability to process this new mode of human suffering.

Half a conclusion and other thoughts

So we bring ourselves back around to the question of Aziraphale's cluelessness. Aziraphale is, as an individual, consistently behind on the times. He likes doing things a certain way and rarely changes his methodology unless someone forces his hand. Even with the best intentions, his ability to help in this minisode is hindered by two points: 1)his continued adherance to heavenly dogma 2)his inability to process the changing nature of human society. His strongest desire at any point is to ensure that good is carried out, an objective good as defined by heavenly values, and while I think it's one of his biggest character hangups, I also can't totally blame him for clinging to the only identity given to him or for worrying about something that is, as an ethereal being, a very real concern. Unfortunately, he also lacks an understanding of the actual human needs that present themselves. Where Elspeth knows that what she needs is money, Aziraphale doesn't seem to process that money is the only solution to the immediate problem. This is in part probably because a century prior the needs of the poor were much simpler, and thus miraculous assistance would never have interfered with 'the virtues of poverty'. (You can make someone's crops grow, and they'll eat well, but giving someone money actually changes their economic status.) Thus, his actions in this episode illustrate the intersection of heavenly guidelines with a weak understanding of modern structures.

This especially makes sense with his response to being told to give her money. Our angel is many things, but I would never peg him as having any attachment to his money. He's not hesitant because he doesn't want to part with it, he's hesitant because he's still scared it's the wrong thing to do in this scenario. He really is trying to be good and helpful. So yes, we're justifiably pretty miffed to see him so blatantly unaware and damaging. He definitely holds a lot of responsibility for the genuine tragedy of this minisode, and I think Crowley pointing out that it's 'different when you knew them' is an extremely important moment for Aziraphale's relationship with humanity. Up until now, he's done a pretty good job insulating himself from the capacity of humans for nastiness, his seeming naivity at the Bastille being case in point.

In the end, I think Aziraphale's role in this minisode is incredibly complex, especially within its historical context. He's obstinate and clueless but also deeply concerned with spiritual wellbeing (which is, to Aziraphale, simply wellbeing) and doing the right thing to be helpful. While it's easy to allow tiny Crowley (my beloved) to eclipse the tragic nature and moral complexity of this minisode, I think in the end it's just as important to long-term character development as 'A Companion to Owls'. We saw him make the right choice with Job's children, and now we see him make the wrong choice. And that's a thing people do sometimes, a thing humans do.

~~~

also tagging @ineffabildaddy, @kimberellaroo, and @raining-stars-somewhere-else whose comments on the original post were invaluable in helping me organize my thoughts and feelings about this topic. They also provided great insight that, in my opinion, is worth going and reading for yourself, even if it didn't factor into my final analysis/judgement.

If I missed anything or you have additional thoughts, please please share!!! <3

[brainwormcity]

Thinking of Crowley in season 2, sitting closer, smiling easier, quicker to apologize, being so indulgent, and always close by because he knows what it feels like to have believed he would have to live in a world where Aziraphale no longer exists.

[tropicalcontinental]

Human fear is the window to the soul or whatever ://

[silverbladexyz]

TW: Mentions of death, injuries, self-loathing. Part 2 to this. Part 3 is here.

"I can't believe you sometimes. What if you had actually been killed because of your recklessness?!"

"But I wasn't! Even if combat isn't my strong suit, I had it all under control; and besides, these wounds are nothing compared to what we've faced before!"

In the normally tranquil environment of the Port Mafia's infirmary, two voices argued back and forth. One laced with worry and anger, the other laced with guilty adamance. A pair of best friends seemed to be the reason behind this noise; with their stubbornness a guise of the true feelings that they harboured for each other.

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? Even if you had it all under control, that doesn't mean you can gamble your life away like it's nothing! How do you think everyone would feel if you died? Do you want to put them through more pain and suffering that could've been prevented if you were more cautious? Do you even care?!"

"..."

Instead of replying, you turned away, suddenly finding the window to be more interesting than whatever was going on right now.

He was right. You didn't think properly about the consequences before you jumped straight in to engage with the enemy, even if you may have had a backup plan.

"... I'm sorry."

It was soft, but Chuuya managed to catch it.

He gave a small sigh, his shoulders dropping as the tension in them wore out. You fiddled with your bandages, not having the courage to look at him in the eyes. Did you even deserve to, afterall? When you worried him sick after he learnt that he almost lost you?

You heard his footsteps approaching you, and mentally prepared for the next thing that he was going to say.

Only for him to somewhat tug you into his arms.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked several times before realising that Chuuya Nakahara, your best friend, was hugging you.

His breath fanned against your collarbone as he buried his face into your shoulder. Strong arms held you close to him, being mindful of the injuries that you sustained on your body- yet the grip they held you in was tight but secure.

"... You idiot. Don't you dare do that again."

It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You hugged him back, inhaling his rich scent as an unknown heat bloomed in your chest.

"I won't. I promise, Chuuya."

His warmth never left your memories.

Now, you watched as he stood with her, holding her hand. They were too far away for you to make out their words, but whatever she said made Chuuya laugh. A genuine, happy laugh that seemed so much more different from the short chuckles he normally gave you.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and you unconsciously hugged your body as you felt yourself getting colder. It was the third of December- the start of another winter in Yokohama. Marking the six month anniversary of their relationship.

A wry smile made it's way on your face as Chuuya pulled Yasuko in for a kiss. Even though it was a short peck, it was enough to make your heart twist in longing that exemplified whenever you were around him. It was stupid; you knew that your best friend deserved to have someone much better than the monster you were, but it didn't stop you from wishing that you were her. Someone that was a sight for sore eyes, with an aura brighter than the blue skies- someone that could get Chuuya mesmerised.

You even noticed how he became slightly more distant in the friendship. You knew that he wasn't doing it on purpose; he was still the great best friend that he always was, but the little signs were there. Holding your hand so that you wouldn't get lost in the crowd had diminished to just staying close to you. Whenever you called him on a free day to ask if he wanted to hang out with you, he would apologise, saying 'I have a date with Yasuko later'. And the fact that you had the same free days really said something about how much they meant to him.

You walked away, the sight getting too much to handle. Once you were at a safe distance, you crumpled against a wall, biting down on the inside of your mouth to stop the tears from leaking out. A higher-ranking mafioso like you, crying over some crush? Pathetic. An unfitting model for your subordinates who looked up to you as a great unflinching leader.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty." You chuckled bitterly, digging your nails into your palms. You hated it- the soft gaze in Chuuya's eyes whenever Yasuko was mentioned, the way that he gently held her hand, the way he became much more sweet and patient with her that was almost nothing like how he acted around you- you hated it all. You regretted not confessing to him sooner all those years ago.

But you were only the side character in their romance; forever doomed to support them while you suffered in silence.

Was there something or somebody that you could blame for this agony that you were currently in? Destiny, perhaps? Or even Cupid? Those names only made you scoff as you stuffed your hands into your pockets.

There was nobody you could blame except for yourself.

Perhaps it would have been better if you were the one who saved Yasuko, not Chuuya. They would have never spent as much time with each other, and you'd still have a chance at romancing him. None of this would have happened if the roles were reversed at that time.

But who were you kidding? One way or another, they’d end up together by the red string of fate. The most perfect match in all of Yokohama that could put every other couple to shame. And you'd always be the third wheel- the 'best friend' whose sacrifices went unseen just so that they could be happy.

Or maybe it would have been better if Yasuko didn't exist in the first place.

"-Y/N? Y/N?"

A voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you blinked a bit before refocusing onto the girl in front of you.

"Is everything okay? N-not that you have to tell me what's wrong, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always be here for you."

Yasuko looked at you with a concerned expression, her eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Those innocent, beautiful eyes of hers that had held Chuuya captive in their gaze.

Ah, right. You were currently in the shopping mall with her, because her boyfriend had asked you to accompany her like some sort of bodyguard. And who were you to refuse, as his best friend who was always there for him? Well, you were grateful that Chuuya trusted you enough to let you near Yasuko. You had seen how protective he was of her.

"... Nothing. I'm alright."

You smiled at her, all traces of your previous emotions now gone. How could you have let your composure slip so easily? This hangout was so that you could 'get closer' with her, not reminiscing about the pathetic past that held you captive in this agonising love.

She frowned a little, but before she could say anything else, you jumped at the opportunity to distract her. Anything that could make you temporarily forget your pain for one moment was what you desperately needed now.

"Oh, looks like they're selling discounted jewellery! Let's take a look! You might find something that you like."

Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her towards the jewellery store despite having no intentions to buy anything. You simply wanted her to be distracted by the precious stones, so meticulously cut and fit into fine metal that it was laughable how they were mostly for show. A valuable trinket only made to be admired and forgotten at the end of the day, even when so much blood had been spilled over them. Blood that would forever stain the hands of a sinner such as you.

"Oh! I remember Chuuya taking me to a similiar store! He bought me a ring; I said that there was no need, but he insisted." Yasuko glanced down at the gold-and-red circlet that lay snugly around her index finger, her gaze becoming shyer as she profoundly remembered the day that her beloved boyfriend had bought it for her.

Your own silver ring that he gifted to you on your 18th birthday paled in comparison to the 5-carat Burmese ruby that sat atop her finger. It was a harsh reminder of who the buyer really preferred from between the two of you. That twisted feeling in your gut resurfaced, but you pushed it back down. You had no more frivolous hopes that he would one day realise you were the one whom he truly belonged with.

"Haha... did he now? I didn't know Chuuya was such a romantic. Did you know that rubies symbolise passionate and undying love?" You smiled as she blushed; the redness on her cheeks rivaling the shade of the precious gemstone that was proof of his commitment to her.

People were right when they said love hurts, but they never mentioned that it was the most painful sensation in the world. All the stab wounds and burns and whatnot that you had experienced from your enemies were nothing compared to a broken heart. A heart that was made to be torn apart to pieces as it weeps for the love it would never get.

Something cold brushed against your wrist, and you looked down to see a bracelet made up of the most exquisite yellow topaz. Yasuko held an identical one in her hand, her expression almost bashful as she faced you.

"I... I wanted to get matching bracelets for the two of us. I know it's only been a few months since we became friends, but being around you has really brightened up my life. I'm glad that we got to meet each other, and I hope that our friendship continues to grow and strengthen!"

She smiled at you; a smile so full of purity and beauty that it would've made many men fall onto her knees in front of her. It was a smile that didn't belong in the dark depths of Yokohama- instead, it belonged to a goddess that was too good for this world. A goddess that clearly deserved to call Nakahara Chuuya hers. Just seeing that smile made you feel infinitely more guilty about the nasty thoughts you had about her each night.

Yasuko's smile faded, worried that she might have overstepped your boundaries due to your silence.

"S-sorry... I should've asked you beforehand if you wanted to buy matching bracelets. Please don't force yourself to buy it just to make me happy-"

You shut her up by slipping it onto your right wrist, the topaz seeming to reflect the sun's golden rays back at you. Shooting her a smile, you grasped Yasuko's hand and put the other bracelet onto her left wrist joint. It fit nicely; just like anything else that she wore.

"May our friendship last until death do us part." It was a pact that you had sworn with Chuuya before. And you always kept your word, never breaking a promise to someone no matter how bizarre or extreme it was.

How unfortunate, really, that death did you apart too early.

@circinuus @riiwrites @ruanais @justcallmesakira @yasu-masashige @oldworldpoolhall @heartsfourdazai @ashthemadwriter-uwu @sariel626 @yuugen-benni @chocsra @iridescentdove

[hinamie]

bunch of portraits

[steddieas-shegoes]

Read Platonic Shower Stobin first

Is it normal to be thinking about non-platonic showering while working?

Probably not.

But it’s all Eddie could think about at the shop. His boss kept giving him weird looks all day, noticing his clumsiness and stupid mistakes with customers getting a standard oil change.

He kept picturing Steve. Naked. Touching him.

He was doing it again. Oil spilled down his jumpsuit. He closed his eyes and sighed.

This was his last car for the day. He could leave when he was done. That’s what he had to remind himself every time his brain started to drift to thoughts of fucking Steve against the shower wall.

He’d never had shower sex. Sounded difficult. Sounded worth it.

Especially with Steve.

Steve Harrington.

Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?

— — — — — — —

When he got home, the apartment was quiet. He knew Robin would still be at work, but Steve was always home first. He usually was making dinner, playing music, cleaning, taking up space in a way that he never could as a child or teenager.

Eddie loved it.

Eddie loved Steve.

Maybe he wasn’t like, in love with him. Yet. But he did love him. He loved Robin, too.

But he definitely knew he could love Steve.

Steve who should be home but isn’t. Or at least isn’t making any noise.

“Steve?”

No movement. No response.

Maybe he was stuck at work.

Maybe he ran for the hills at the thought of having to be in the shower with Eddie.

Maybe he changed his name and went into the Witness Protection Program to avoid ever having to look at Eddie again.

He walked towards his room, which was the closest to the front door and shared areas because Steve and Robin hated being close to the door. When he opened the door, he felt himself freeze like he had that morning in the bathroom.

Steve was in his bed, cuddled up with his pillow, no shirt on, mouth wide open and drooling.

Eddie was in love with Steve.

He was in love with him and he wanted to come home to this every day; Steve asleep in his bed, drooling on his pillow, possibly completely naked under the blanket.

Eddie remained as quiet as possible while he got out of his work jumpsuit, stripping it off and leaving him in his undershirt and boxers. He had oil stains on his hands and neck that needed to come off before he got in bed.

Just when he grabbed his towel from where it was hung up on his desk chair, he heard Steve groan. In his bed.

But it only took a second for Eddie to recognize it was a groan in pain, not pleasure.

He wasted no time in rushing to where Steve was curling up against the pillow, eyebrows scrunching together.

Migraine.

Eddie sat on the floor next to the bed, putting his hand up to gently brush hair out of his face and try to relieve some of the pain.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open, though he looked like he wished they hadn’t.

“Hey, sweetheart. Need anything? Water maybe?”

“Mm-mm.”

Eddie was certain he did need water, but he wasn’t going to argue with him when he had a migraine. Especially not if he tried to make it all day at work with one.

He’d leave some water by the bed while he showered so it was there if Steve managed to sit up.

He stood up, but before he could turn around, Steve’s hand was around his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

“I need a shower. Got a lot of oil on me.”

“‘Sposed to go in the car.”

Eddie snorted. “No shit. I was too busy thinking about you and spilled. Three times.”

“Oh.”

Steve let go of his wrist, and it felt like he was no longer tethered to the earth.

“Shower?”

Eddie was still getting used to Steve during his migraines. He’d only lived here for six months, and it was usually Robin’s job to handle it or Steve would already be sleeping it off by the time he got home. In his own bed.

He didn’t know if Steve was clarifying what he had already said or if he was asking to take one.

He didn’t look like he could stand up, so it must’ve been the former.

“Um I’m gonna take one. I’ll be quick.”

Steve started to shuffle around, moving the blanket off of him slowly.

Eddie tried to stop him from moving, not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but not wanting him to make his headache worse by moving.

“Steve, stop.”

“No.”

God, he was stubborn. He loved him so much.

“What are you doing?”

“Shower.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Promised.”

Eddie melted. He was a puddle on the floor. Might have even gone through the floor.

“Sweetheart, you can stay in bed. We can shower tomorrow night when you’re feeling better.”

“Want to. Neck hurts.”

Eddie helped him out of bed. Arguing wasn’t worth it and getting to shower with Steve was welcome any time.

They took it slow, stumbling to the bathroom across the hall as Eddie tried his best to support Steve. Just when he was about to offer carrying him bridal style, Steve stopped and rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder.

He let out a shaky breath.

“Sorry. Nauseous.”

“Want me to carry you?”

They were almost the same size. Eddie had some muscle, but not nearly what Steve probably had. The bathroom wasn’t far though, he could probably make it.

Steve shook his head against him, but didn’t start moving again. Eddie let him rest his head against him for a moment before he moved his hand up to start rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve groaned and fully relaxed against Eddie, and if he hadn’t been head over heels before, he was now.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, but he knew if it helped Steve even a tiny bit, he would stand here all night.

But they didn’t stand there much longer, even though it seemed like Steve didn’t actually want to move. He pulled his head away with a sigh, and Eddie made an executive decision to just carry him.

He lifted him quickly so he couldn’t argue, because if Steve will do anything, it’s argue over someone helping him.

But his migraine must have been terrible because he didn’t argue. He just rested his head against Eddie’s chest and closed his eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna go back to bed?”

“Shower will help.”

Eddie couldn’t resist it anymore; he placed a kiss on the top of Steve’s head and walked to the bathroom.

He sat him down on the toilet lid so he could start the water and get the right temperature. As he stripped his shirt off, he noticed Steve’s head was resting on the sink counter and his eyes were open.

That had to be some type of progress, right?

“Doing okay, Stevie?”

“Better when you’re naked.”

God, the migraine couldn’t even stop his charm. Incredible.

“Alright, take it easy. No riling me up. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have a migraine.”

Steve just sighed and closed his eyes. Eddie took off his boxers and then kneeled in front of Steve, placing his hands on his thighs.

“Wanna leave these on?”

Eddie played with the waistband of Steve’s boxers, looking up at his face to see if he gave any outward signs of discomfort.

Steve shook his head and sat up so Eddie could help him stand and get them off.

They were about to shower. Naked.

Maybe it would be more platonic than not because of Steve’s migraine, but he’d get to take care of Steve with intent. Intent Robin didn’t have.

Was he jealous of Robin? Only in the way that she’d been showering with Steve for a long time and didn’t even appreciate it.

He helped Steve into the shower and turned him so the back of his neck was getting hit by the water, his forehead resting against his shoulder.

He let out another groan.

“Perfect.”

Eddie smiled to himself as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. They stood there for a couple minutes, and it did seem to help the tension leave Steve’s body a bit.

“Can we switch for a minute so I can scrub the oil off?”

“Mhm.”

But Steve didn’t move and Eddie honestly didn’t want to move him. He’d never been this content or comfortable just existing with someone else naked.

Most experiences he had naked were quick or not in his own home, so he couldn’t quite relax like he was now.

Plus, it was Steve. Steve had seen him at his worst already. This was far from that.

He reached out his hand for the soap, deciding to just do what he could without moving Steve first. But Steve let out a hum and lifted his head so he could move away.

He rested his head against the shower wall instead while Eddie rushed through washing his body. He could wash his hair in the morning; Steve wasn’t long for this world and he wanted to have him cozy in his bed as soon as possible.

“Hair?”

Eddie looked over to Steve, who had one eye open, staring at him.

“Nah, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Mine?”

“You want me to wash your hair?”

“Please?”

How could Eddie refuse that?

This was one of Eddie’s biggest dreams come true.

He wasn’t gonna say no.

So he guided Steve back under the water, tilting his head back and slowly pushing his hair back so it was wet.

He slowly massaged the shampoo into Steve’s scalp, smiling when Steve let out a few low moans. He knew it wasn’t necessarily pleasure, more relief than anything else, but he was happy to make things better for him.

He took his time. It was for Steve, but he definitely got his own enjoyment out of it too.

Steve looked so calm, relaxed, almost blissful, which is something he never sees regardless of if he has a migraine or not.

When he’d spent more than enough time with his hands in Steve’s hair, he leaned his head back and covered his eyes to rinse the shampoo out. Steve looked like he was about two minutes from falling asleep, and Eddie needed him to be out of the shower before that happened.

“Sweetheart, let’s get you dried off and back in bed,” Eddie said softly, not wanting the echo of his voice to make Steve’s head hurt worse.

“Mm.”

Eddie shut off the water and managed to get Steve out of the shower rather quickly, reaching for his towel to wrap around Steve before he could get cold.

He found an extra towel under the sink for himself, wrapping it around his waist before focusing on Steve again. He started to pat him dry the best he could, but Steve was struggling to stand upright.

He once told Eddie that during his worst migraines, his legs would feel like jelly, and sometimes his back would ache from the extra effort it took to stand up.

This must be one of those.

He managed to guide Steve back to his bedroom, slowly, afraid that one wrong move could send Steve to the ground in terrible pain.

“Sorry.”

He looked up as he helped Steve into some of his boxers.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, sweetheart?”

“Not fun.”

“Any time with you is fun. And I got to see you naked. I’d say that’s fun.��

Steve didn’t have enough energy to smile, but the way the corner of his mouth ticked up for just a second showed Eddie he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Always gonna take care of you.”

Well, nothing like throwing all his cards on the table. Full house or royal flush or whatever the hell the best hand in poker was.

“Mkay. Want you to.”

If Eddie was capable of it, he would probably melt through the floor. Again.

Because Steve never let anyone take care of him, except Robin, and she was only allowed because she would kill him if he didn’t let her. He was the epitome of “suffer in silence,” and everyone just watched as he tried to work his way through his own pain, both emotional and physical.

So if Steve wanted him to take care of him, that meant he was really doing this. He really wanted Eddie.

Holy shit.

“I got you.”

He got Steve to lay down in his bed while he threw on some boxers, rushing as quickly as he could to dry his hair a bit with the towel.

It always got so frizzy if he fell asleep with it still wet, but he didn't care. He had Steve in his bed.

Steve curled up to his side as soon as he was under the blanket, placing his head on his naked chest.

Eddie didn’t think it could be comfortable, but it must have been because Steve was letting out little snores within moments.

Eddie’s hands covered his back and the back of his head, fingers moving slowly to ease any possible aches or pains he might feel in his sleep.

He kissed the top of Steve’s head, letting his lips linger for longer than was probably necessary. He breathed in the scent of his freshly washed hair, smiling to himself when he felt Steve sink further into him.

He would take a not-so-platonic shower with Steve in the morning. This was almost better than anything his dreams could’ve come up with anyway.

[mintypsii]

not a part 2, but here's a prequel to this sanuso comic I did last month !!! (takes place the night before ,, technically after the first three panels)

[zephyrine-gale]

kiana bronya mei u will always be my favorite main trio

[punkleos]

Awooga