#( lmk if this doesn't work! )

[halofcrged]

@rubiesintherough seven sent a meme.

❛ Are you real? ❜

He'd been sat in the med bay since he had made it back to the ship - he was meant to be in route for pickup by a UNSC cruiser, but he'd purposefully rerouted the ship through slip stream to the middle of nowhere while he'd waited for the young woman to regain consciousness, and for Cortana to pick her way through all of the files that they'd gleaned from what was left of the research ship that they'd been sent to salvage. Command had told him to anticipate no survivors, and that his mission was to recover whatever date he could and scrap anything left behind to keep it from falling into enemy hands.

What he'd seen had left his stomach tight and his teeth on edge. It hadn't been readily apparent who had been conducting the experiments on the ship, or who had authorized them. The encryptions were not UNSC. The scientists had either fled and left their work behind, or been torn from the ship on its impact exiting slipstream - Cortana's sensors hadn't been able to find evidence of their remains on board or in their surrounding space. The cryo tubes of test subjects were in varying degrees of melt down or overload. The girl's was the only one that had been capable of supporting life still, but it had been a fight to resuscitate her.

Cortana was still working on decrypting files. All he could do was wait. So wait he did.

"Yes, ma'am," John replied, pulling the stool he'd been sitting on closer to the edge of the med bay bed. He'd stripped out of his suit down to his under amor in the best of an attempt he could make to seem less intimidating. He wasn't sure it had helped. "My name's John. Can you tell me your name?"

#IC. #VERSE. ( halo. / tbd. ) #lmk if this doesn't work! #JOHN & SEVEN. #RUBIESINTHEROUGH #RUBIESINTHEROUGH. ( seven. ) #ANSWERED.

[lycanus]

for @luneblush ... to anyone

"oh, shit, hey, how long have you been awake?" wooyung says with a start when he notices them lingering in the corner of his vision. "i'm sorry if you thought i left," he says softly, wrapping his arms around their waist. "even on days i don't work, i usually wake up early....and then i was going to make coffee for us, but i got distracted looking for your mugs, and....sorry. i wouldn't leave you like that."

#wooyung. conversation #luneblush #first time hooking up/spending the night perhaps.... #lmk if this doesn't work!

[doomdays]

it's been days, but akilah's hands still tremble from stitching. five years ago, it was her in that position, watching as her girl scout troop leader did the emergency stitching on her own arm after a hiking excursion gone wrong -- but she was experienced, had the proper resources, and was steady. she can't get van's screams out of her head now, thoughts blurried so much that she's convinced herself she did a bad job ( better you than misty, mari had said, but that doesn't wash away akilah's fears, doesn't make the ringing stop quiet or the shaking stop. )

van seems to have kept to herself, while the rest of the cabin is more somber than ever at their failure to find an exit, but her mind only bounces between van and the wolves, refusing to think too far ahead -- optimism hasn't done them much good as is. as akilah moves closer, she wonders if @slaughtyr would prefer to be alone; she knows if it were her in that position, she would, but leaving it alone doesn't feel right. she's too uneasy, needs some kind of confirmation that van is still okay --- the wolves didn't win, but the wilderness might have.

❝  hi. ❞ her voice is quiet, like she's afraid to take up too much space. ' are you okay ' comes to mind first, but there's no way any of them are okay right now, especially after any last bit of hope had diminished. ❝  i brought you some water. ❞ she sets it next to her, and it feels like some excuse, so she urges herself to go on. ❝  i just wanted to check on you. you don't have to tell me how you are, okay, i know, what a stupid question anyway, but --- i just wanted to say, if you need any help, can you just let me know? i know i kind of had to, like, make everything worse before it got better, but i'm here. if you need me. ❞ she's desperate to find something light to cheer her up, the way van always does to everyone else, and she remembers mari's words. ❝  you know, better me than misty, ❞ she says, forcing a small smile.   

#slaughtyr #slaughtyr: van. #thread: akilah. #half my akilah brain is just thinking about her stitching her up so <3 #lmk if this doesn't work! #queue.

[lcngdays-archive]

@gunchamber smelled gasoline

The air was thick with it, and following that, the smell of smoke. Faint for now, that second smell, but it was getting to be very obvious that the house she was in was going up in flames. With how intense the smell of gasoline was, it seemed like it was going to go up fast.

Distantly, someone is whistling. It sous like it's coming from upstairs, and it's getting closer.

#;wolfgang threads #gunchamber #lmk if this doesn't work! #also gonna work on your ask thread in a bit :3!!

[marti-garcia]

↦ closed starter  / @chloecampbell ↦ location: neighborhood grocery

"I realize me starting a conversation with a stranger in a grocery store is quite literally the worst possible thing I can do in 2023, but this is an emergency." Marti lifted two bottles of wine, one in each hand, and eyed the girl in front of her. "Do you drink wine? Which one of these says 'I'm sorry I slept with your boyfriend, I didn't know he was in a relationship!' best?" She didn't even care how it came out, she was in desperate need of input. "I'm strictly a hard liquor kind of girl, but sending a bottle of top shelf bourbon to a wannabe suburban wine mom feels even less classy than sleeping with her boyfriend."

#chloecampbell #int: chloe #lmk if this doesn't work!

[allmagick]

//   @kitsunesx​​

                     ❝   i   already   sent   flowers   and   chocolate   to   your   makeup   artist.   ❞   axel   said   ,   still   trying   to   see   if   she   was   out   there   from   the   window.      ❝   when   she   came   out   before   you   ,   she   totally   recognised   me   and   gave   me   the   nastiest   look   ever.   i’m   having   concerns   for   my   life   here.   ❞   maybe   they   should   have   stayed   in   the   car   while   waiting   for   jimin.

#╰ * magic falling : interaction . #kitsunesx #lmk if this doesn't work!

[gyujeongfmd]

starter for @taeyongfmd / crowned recordings

the least of his worries come when he’s flying solo. no expectations, little curt words pulling in the half-amused expressions from the camera staffs, the dead-beat sighs from the producers, and straight cut into another five minute break.

he only gets fucked over when the staff pulls another blueprint of decisive tricks, yanking him into one place, bringing in the other placeholder.

so, now — he’s managing. managing in a silence, tongue-in-cheek resignation leading to no exit signs and the impatient echoes of the staff surrounding him. the other placeholder’s someone of familiarity, summed up in the brevity of another competition show and bare minimum greetings in passing.

there’s a cough from the producer, a standard cue for: we’ll wait all day, your call. a semblance of amiability they expect, he refuses to give in — and now, they’ve been boxed up for what feels like fucking hours on end in this unspoken war (he’ll remember. hold this grudge against mnet to his grave). yet, some portion of his pride wavers when he rebounds the same cough, sharpens his gaze towards the producers, only for it to soften when he looks over at the person alongside him. “hey.” (gyujeong: 0 mnet: 1). “almost like it’s 2011 again. nice of this show to give us a reunion.”

#태용 — taeyongfmd #famedcrowned2 #thought of them being forced to have a two-shot because of past show?? #lmk if this doesn't work!

[streetslost]

@storyofwhoiam​

       CONTEMPLATIVE, consideration crinkled her features.  the gaunt, dirtied lines of her face scrunching as cat mulled the thoughts puddling in her mind.  there was no TRUE answer.  at least she didn’t believe there could be.  yet, she wondered on the opinion of someone else; one who knew hardship and crime.  dry lips p a r t e d, splitting and stinging.  if such was noticed, the street rat didn’t pay any mind.  “...can people be redeemed?  can they come back from doing something wrong?”

                       questions that were far too complex.  there were plenty of people, plenty of injuries that simply couldn’t be forgiven.  but the context of her inquiries could be read.  people like the two of them.  wrong... and wronged.

#storyofwhoiam #&&. verse ( nothing gold can stay ) #hello would allie like a deep question right out the gate ajkdfl;sa #lmk if this doesn't work!

[preyeir]

there was a sudden and total lack of sound. the huntress, her cape snapping in the wind, leaped from the fire escape. she'd been tracking the truck for the past fifteen blocks, waiting for the moment to strike. only to have her plan mucked up by unplanned-for interference. one of the assailants wailed as she shot, a crossbow bolt landing square in his shoulder. her voice ground out between her teeth. she hated working with unknowns, but . . . ❝ i need one conscious. ❞

@argenpluma liked for a starter.

#idk why they're both fighting but! it seemed the most likely meeting. #VERSE: TBA. #IC. #argenpluma #lmk if this doesn't work!

[gammija]

the real reason tmagp is on break 'til april 11th is so sam can observe ramadan without being chased by a murderous clown blob

#tmagp #tmagp s1 #tmagp spoilers #the Magnus protocol #if for some islam-related reason this joke doesn't work plz tell me - i was thinking. i would like to see some content #exploring/including sam possibly being muslim considering his name and VAs ethnicity #and what better way to support that than make it myself? #joos yaps #samama #samama khalid #tmagp sam #but i am v much an outsider so lmk if i missed something #tbf. i cannot think of any way this could be somehow misconstrued. but you dont know what you dont know!

[brittlefcrged]

@rubiesintherough​​ / jacob sent a meme.

“Don’t you dare say it’s complicated. I need the truth. Right now.”

    A charcoal ridden hand dragged upwards across her cheek and temple leaving hints of the ashy substance against pale skin, fingers twisting into loose curls in agitation as she tried to keep her focus equally divided between the photos he’d displayed on the booth between them and the man himself.   “It’s --  It’s not as simple as you want it to be.  I don’t ...   -- what does it matter?”  Her gaze dropped to study the photograph of the boy, young, unruly brown curls, bright green eyes, clad in a soccer uniform beside a woman she could only guess to be his mother, and then again to the photograph of the painting, one of a dozen that had been displayed in her most recent showing.  The crooked teeth, the scab on his eyebrow.  The same.   “It’s just a face, it’s what I do, I paint -- I paint faces, people.  I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

#IC. #ANSWERED. #RUBIESINTHEROUGH #RUBIESINTHEROUGH. ( jacob. ) #lmk if this doesn't work! #REESE & JACOB.

[wasme]

& .    @enhaunts​ .

a  moment  of  peace  taken.    a  moment  to  relish  in  the  beauty  before  him.   man  so  used  to  rushing  around,   endless  running,    unremitting  energy.     for  once,   he’d  chosen  to  sit.    not  something  he  often  did,    nor  often  enjoyed.    but  a  moment  of  silence  taken  for  himself  was  proving  serenely  peaceful  in  a  way  he  didn’t  often  feel,   relishing  in  the  beauty  of  earth.    all  until  eyes  fall  down  to  walkway  below,    to  woman  wandering  through  the  darkness.   to. . .    statues  that  don’t  look  as  if  they  should  be  there.

fear  hits  the  pit  of  his  stomach,     his  moment  of  tranquillity  lost  as  he  barrels  his  way  down  the  hill.     it  feels  as  if  he’s  falling  the  entire  way,      yet  he  somehow  stays  on  his  feet,    sliding  down  in  front  of  stranger.    “ stop!    stop. . .   where  you  are. ”      chest   heaves  a  touch  as  he  tries  to  regain  his  breath,   eyes  wide  with  worry.    “ and  don’t. . .   blink.     whatever  you  do,    don’t  blink. ”

#enhaunts #enhaunts thread 01 . #what is this #i don't know #i didn't know what to do so #angels ig ur welc #lmk if this doesn't work!

[matriarchsdevotee-archive]

@libertytaken Plotted starter!

It was a quiet day in the shop. Tuesdays usually were, as the first day of the work week. The owners had considered starting on Wednesday to save on costs, but it was probably negligible in the long term. There were too many things in the occult store that needed care, from the plants to the sourdough starters to a few very psychically active items that Nabooru couldn't bear to let go of, either to sell or let her partner take home.

So they stayed open on Tuesdays for the time being, if only from four to eight. They usually had a few regulars in - mostly the Wicca coven that met every Thursday and Saturday evening, coming to stock up on candles or herbs early. Occasionally a teen would stumble in. Nabooru always sighed when she saw them. The answers were always the same - 'No, we don't sell Ouija boards and you shouldn't be playing with one anyway, yes we sell tarot but they don't just tell you your future without putting in the work, and for the love of the goddess herself, no, owning a black cat doesn't make you a witch.'

She tried to be patient with them. Most of them didn't know better, and she could always chew out the ones who did. It didn't make it easier though.

She barely glanced up whenever a bell chimed, furthering her study on next year's lunar cycle.

"Look, don't touch. If you need help with anything, let me know," she said, going into the usual spiel she gave when the guest was a child.

#libertytaken #Good Fortune #Lmk if this doesn't work!

[kirazjasper]

— CLOSED STARTER FOR @enzobianchi​​​ AT THE COMMON ROOM.

against his better judgment, enzo bianchi had grown to be as close to a friend as jasper would ever have. that is, if a friend counts as someone you share a beer with while keeping most of your life to yourself. after all, he didn’t really know much about bianchi and bianchi didn’t really know much about him. somewhere along the line, they’d come to that mutual decision. plus, even if enzo was a police agent, he’d overlooked that flaw on the basis they would and had never worked against one another. jasper didn’t do murder cases. now, he was meeting him for a drink, something he’d admittedly looked more and more forward to as the work day waned on. “bianchi.” jasper’s hand patted the man’s shoulder. “long day?”

#( * / threads. ) #( opposite / * enzo bianchi. ) #lmk if this doesn't work! #sad boys unite

[flowercrowngods]

something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind. 

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually. 

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch. 

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. 

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset. 

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up. 

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?” 

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him. 

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now. 

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom. 

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now. 

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now. 

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic." 

No. 

"You know you are." 

Shut up. Go away. 

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way. 

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him. 

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always. 

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore. 

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck. 

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice. 

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

—— 

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes. 

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up. 

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes. 

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open. 

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched. 

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again. 

 “Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it. 

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers. 

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking. 

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening. 

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling. 

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?” 

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…” 

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already. 

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch. 

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently. 

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual. 

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness. 

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two. 

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move. 

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.” 

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either. 

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room. 

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next. 

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be. 

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons. 

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not. 

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room. 

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?" 

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods. 

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand. 

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?" 

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe. 

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand. 

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night. 

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation. 

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself. 

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay. 

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too. 

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough. 

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety. 

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?" 

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time. 

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?" 

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours. 

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #kas eddie munson #kas takes care of steve fic #this part is downright short for me lmao #dio words #something so monstrous #i have a lot of things to say about pain and monstrosity but instead i just juxtapose them with an actual monster #and then bend the understanding of humanity around that instead #if the tag list doesn't work pls lmk some of these tags be looking wonky on mobile #the end of this is super rushed but 1) steve is still disoriented n weak 2) the mortifying ordeal of having been taken care of must be fled #3) too many thoughts too many realisations and things rearranging overwritten by the need to leave #so pls know it’s intentional and real life is abrasive like that sometimes hdhdh

[allmagick]

closed      ft.      @magicshvps​​

            ❝   i’m   not   saying   you   are   the   most   attractive   person   here   tonight   but   ...   one   could   say   that.   ❞   that’s   a   tricky   play   that   they   are   doing   there.   especially   given   the   fact   that   they   are   complimenting   someone   they   had   a   slight   argument   with   before.   to   be   fair   ,   axel   was   trying   to   defend   their   friend   who   turned   out   to   be   the   one   in   the   wrong.   so   instead   of   apologising   ,   flirting   their   way   through   a   peace   sounded   better   in   their   mind.      ❝   and   if   you   are   here   with   a   special   someone   ,   i’ll   accept   the   slap   from   them   for   flirting.   ❞

#╰ * magic falling : interaction . #magicshvps #lmk if this doesn't work!