#uh.... whoops?

[hero-of-the-wolf]

It was said that time would heal all wounds. That’s what everyone had always said, anyways. That the grief would fade, until one day it would be gone, and she’d be okay again.

That was a lie.

“I won't be gone for long,” he’d told her. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

That had been a lie, too.

Malon didn’t think that she could ever be okay again. And truthfully, she didn’t want to. Feeling okay felt almost like a betrayal to the love that she and Link had shared.

It’d been years and years now since he’d left for battle and never come back home. Working around the ranch kept her busy, but nothing could fill that hole in her heart that her husband had left behind. And at times like this, kneeling by their dresser with one of his old shirts clutched tightly in her hands, it hurt as much as it had the day she’d first lost him.

Why’d he have to leave? Hadn’t he given enough? Why did he have to leave her?

Her anger almost immediately sputtered back out, swallowed up by guilt. She hugged herself, wishing desperately that it was his arms wrapped around her once again. He’d press a kiss to the top of her head and whisper against his hair, he’d say… he’d….

She didn’t remember what his voice sounded like anymore.

She pressed her hand tightly against her lips, choking on a sob. His memory had already become so faded from her mind. How could she?

It still didn’t feel real. Like at any moment, he’d walk through their front door and sweep her up into his arms. Like it was all some horrid nightmare, and she’d wake up to him by her side once again.

She knew that his line of work had been risky, but Hylia if she hadn’t hoped that just maybe they’d get to grow old together. Raise their children hand in hand, enjoy the peace that he’d fought so hard to obtain. Why couldn’t they….

She buried her face into his shirt. The smell had faded long ago, but it was still a small comfort to know that it had been his.

These small comforts were all she had left of him. The tears ran unbidden down her cheeks. She halfheartedly wiped them away.

“Oh, Link. I miss you so… so much.”

She almost expected to hear a response. The resounding silence was painful.

Had he died alone? Had he been scared?

She’d never know.

“I love you, Link,” she whispered. “I always will.”

Then with a heavy sigh she folded the shirt up and tucked it away. She took a deep breath in, held it a moment, and exhaled slowly. The pain still weighed heavily on her chest, but it was a little easier to breathe. She pressed a hand over her heart and took in another deep breath.

“Mommy?”

Malon quickly rubbed at her face. Her daughter needed her right now. She needed to be strong.

She knew that that’s what he would have wanted.

She got up and crossed over the room. With a sigh she took her grief and carefully tucked it away for later, before finally opening the door.

“What is it, sweetie?”

[yes-asil]

My take on the ever popular Detective Conan AU where Shinichi and Conan are seperate people.

[linterteatime]

Bugs with the littlest pet shops because

[acatpiestuff]

beesechurger

x

[phemiec]

I’ve never been into dcu before but I’ve been binging batfam stuff and lore videos for 3 days because I watched one thing about Jason Todd fell in love with him instantly and then I needed to know where he fit in Batman lore since there are 700 robins and ended up finding out about his whole family

Is that how this works with batfam fans? Because damn there’s a lot of you and I’m curious if it typically starts with one robin, like, you just find your robin and then whoops the rest of them come as a package deal now? Because I feel like that might be the case lol

[smolfoxbab]

[dontfindmeimscared]

Prologue 0.2

start / prev / next!

[flowercrowngods]

based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

🤍 also on ao3

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

[sen-ya]

First of all I love your comics!!! I binge read them all, and I periodically come back to binge read them again lmao. And in your comics there’s moments when I’m certain all Law is thinking is “OH SHIT HE’S HOT!!!!!!?!!!” But not so many moments for Luffy (which is understandable because he’s Luffy.)

All that’s to say- do you think there’s anything Law does that makes Luffy go “OH SHIT HE’S HOT!!?!!” or some variation of the feeling??

(This question originated from the face Law makes when Luffy catches him in your drunken confessions comic part two lmao)

Okay first of all thank you for such a sweet message 😭😭❤️ I had way too many ideas for this prompt and I honestly have surprised myself that this is the one I went with 🙈🙈

[altschmerzes]

having the same tropes that you go back to time and time again even when you don't mean to is so like,,, you do the thing Again and it's like damn i really am like this. you're writing a fic you didn't plan to Do The Thing in and all of a sudden it's like-

[rbtlvr]

smth for @remedyturtles new fic firefight! the twins ever <3 i'm sure they're fine

[emeraldclocks-but-fr]

I dont have a pen or pencil, just that crayon thats here

[thelemonsnek]

graphic interior design is my passion

[image id: an aerial floorplan of Ingo and Emmet's apartment. It is relatively small and not overly fancy. There are only two bedrooms, Ingo's and Emmet's, with a pullout couch to make up for the lack of a spare room. Most of the house is carpeted with a navy blue carpet. Off to the side, a tiny Ingo and Emmet look over at the apartment. End id]

additional ramblings under the cut for reasoning about some of this!!

ingo typically takes night shifts, so he took the room without the window so he could sleep better during the day. emmet preferred the room with the window bc the sunrise helps him wake up easier

their bed colors are based off their ex outfits in masters. emmet's is lighter and ingo's is darker to match the white/black theme

if you happened to notice, ingo's trashcan is beside his desk. emmet's isn't shown because it's under his desk. ingo also has one of those desks with built in shelves, both because it makes up for him not having a bookshelf, and also because i just think he'd enjoy the efficiency of it

for all of the chairs, they're out from the tables to demonstrate the space they would take up if in use. the twins do in fact push in their chairs. the exception is ingo's desk chair, which he leaves pushed out on purpose. freak

the dark carpet helps to hide dirt - important for trainers with so many pokemon in the house!!

speaking of pokemon, the hallway is intentionally larger than i'd expect of real life houses, in order to accommodate large final evolutions

the couch is a pullout, since they don't have a spare room

the rug isn't plain white i'd just rather die than actually design the pattern

there's also a lot of clutter/decorative stuff that i didn't include

the laundry room is sparse for easy access to the fire exit! safety first :)!

there are "floating" cabinets over the counters, i just couldn't figure out an effective way to draw that. the microwave is above the stove

i think that they're a higher up floor in the apartment, but not the highest. maybe like,,,,3 out of 5 or 6 floors?

space for ghosts was originally a little joke comment i wrote for myself when drafting the layout, then kept in. i could've extended the kitchen down and given them more room but the space for ghosts is important to me now. chandelure needs her alone time

[mechanicalinfection]

Lovestruck

[mblue-art]

late halloweeen dooodleee

[yestrnight]

hiiiii!! if you do sub readers, can you do a sub ditzy/dumb slime reader who gets fucked by kaveh and alhaitham? if you don’t wanna you don’t have to, but thanks for reading this!! nd i really loved the other slime reader fics!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACTIN' LIKE A DAMN HYPOCRITE !

FROM: kaveh / gn! slime! reader / haitham

SUBJECT: you did something wrong and now you're fucked. literally. except i did not do the request and it became kaveh and haitham fighting over you while you get plowed and haitham's a hypocrite the entire time.

( gn reader but they have a CÙNT, seeex, idk this is pretty tame bois )

no matter how endearing you are— all of your gurgly-voiced, innocent-eyed adorableness— one cannot just let you roam free without some sort of discipline. after all, who knows what you're capable of? you're a humanoid slime that kaveh picked out of nowhere, that alone should raise some bells, and plus the fact that you were sucking the living soul out of their dicks every day should warrant you a damn collar.

alhaitham raises his brow at his roommate, who coddles and coos at you in your slime form. "this is why the pesky thing keeps thrashing our room. you spoil them too much."

kaveh stops babbling to you in baby-talk just to shoot his roommate a glare. "oh, shush you. even if they look like a human, they're still a slime through and through. it can't be helped that they'll be a little rowdy every now and then. it's part of their nature!"

"if their nature is going to cost me 10,000 mora for renovation, then it becomes quite the inconvenience for me, i'm afraid," haitham deadpans, shutting his book and leveling his senior with a stern stare. "as the one who found them, do you even have the means to get that money right now?"

kaveh winces. "well, i... i'll manage somehow. somehow." his tone becomes pitiful at the end. finally realizing that he has to teach his little pet some manners so that they won't keep bankrupting him, he turns you around and tries to muster the harshest glare that he can. you notice that the situation has become serious, and in his hands you slowly morph into your humanoid form as you tilt your head innocently.

"kav... eh?" you gurgle in questioning, wide innocent eyes looking up at him. "did i do something wrong?"

"yes, dear," he starts, and he reddens when he notices haitham's amused expression from the corner of his eye. "that was very naughty of you, to destroy haitham's study while we were away. we... i..." he heaves a breath, wincing as he continues to speak. "we need to punish you. you've been a very bad slime."

"we?" haitham cocks a brow.

"oh come on!" kaveh groans. "i know you want in too!"

he's not wrong about that. not when haitham's deep groans sound throughout the room as he's fucking your wet pussy like his life depended on it. it was nice, to be the one fucking instead of being fucked. he still had his pride after all, even if you had stripped him of it countless of times before.

he pinches your clit as he grinds his cock deep into your cunt. you let out a squeal, a cross between surprise and pleasure as you start leaking more and more slime around his cock. he's always been a petty jerk, and it's become more obvious when he relishes in the cloudy expression on your usually clueless face. the face of his dreams and nightmares, staring down at him as he drowns in his own shameless pleasure as if they haven't stripped him of all his dignity.

he swipes a thumb across your lip— relishes it when you shiver in pleasure from his touch— and dips it into your mouth. "this is how you ought to look like everyday," he says, serious eyes studying your face as you whimper and suck on his thumb. "brainless monsters like you should just sit still and submit like a good pet."

"don't be so mean!" kaveh admonishes his roommate, giving him the side eye as if he's not sat behind you and torturing your chest with those delicate fingers. "we're just disciplining them. you don't have to demean them like that!"

haitham shoots him a glare and kaveh, not one to back down from haitham, glares right back. "you don't have the right to talk, " he spits, glaring moodily down at your fucked expression. "you brought this one into our home and allowed it to destroy both of our lives."

"oh please," kaveh sneers. in his aggravation, he pinches your perky nipples so hard that you let out a small sob as he abuses them. "destroy? more like destroying your ass." his smirk widens when haitham blushes angrily. "we both know that after your done plowing my cute lil [y. name] you're going back to taking their dick in your ass."

haitham clicks his tongue, venting his frustration by rutting too deep into you. he's close, kaveh can see it, if the white liquid leaking from his head and floating in your slme torso was any indication. "as if you don't do that either," haitham snaps.

"well, i'm not a bitch about it," kaveh scoffs.

"you act like damn slut when it comes to [y. name]."

you rock up and down against kaveh while you whine and moan from haitham's rough handling. kaveh pecks a loving kiss on your cheek, snuggling into your neck, and you whine back as you try to find his lips again. kaveh grins at haitham.

"better than acting like you don't get bitched everyday."

haitham growls, but says nothing more. once he's done turning your body into his creamy white, he's coming after kaveh.