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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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taxinealkaloids · 1 year

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thinking about the tower princes again. girl worst friends. they’re so miserable i’m obsessed

#tlt #the locked tomb #ntn spoilers #my art #i'm really into the tlt trend where a character must spend the absolute worst era of their lives in a strange new environment with #ianthe tridentarius as their sole ally and confidante.#i've been calling it 'stuck in the middle with ianthe' and i think it should continue.#also i enjoy how the whole imperialism squad (john ianthe kiriona) are all having a horrible time. a well of misery every one of them.#ianthe still got stuck with paperwork & babysitting duty though. so if she wants to kill someone next book i will be supporting her.

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seagreenstardust · 2 months

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“When toxic behavior is portrayed as romantic, it’s problematic. When problematic behavior is portrayed as a character flaw for a character to work through, it’s good storytelling.”

Katsuki Bakugou, my friends.

His behavior was problematic but never once portrayed as romantic at the same time. Katsuki said and did awful abusive things, and he also chose to be better when he was given the chance. If you’re still hung up on chapter 1 Katsuki now then I don’t think you’ve been reading the same story I have.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m not shipping Izuku with an irredeemable abuser. I’m shipping him with his most important person. His narrative foil. His childhood friend who made awful mistakes and then made it right when he saw he was wrong. The person Izuku looks up to and strives to emulate, despite their past struggles.

Bakudeku is so good because of how flawed these boys are, and how hard they’ve worked to get over it, and how much they matter to each other after it all

#perfect stories about perfect people who never do anything wrong are usually boring #stories about growth and mistakes and redemption and forgiveness and progress are lit #bkdk #bakudeku #the quote is from cinema therapy on YouTube btw #love them so much #they look at media and talk about what is and isn’t good from a real life human perspective #and boy did this quote slap me in the face #anyway this is my thought literally any time anyone says something about shipping Izuku with his abuser #if he was still being abused then I get it #but he’s not #and saying he needs protection from Katsuki is honestly doing his character dirty #and this is not to say that every situation with an abuser and a victim should turn out romantic #obviously not #the world is not black and white and neither are people #sometimes you have to get yourself out and never look back and that is valid and healthy #but sometimes you’re talking about two boys in a manga who literally cannot stop thinking about how good and incredible the other is #bro I get it #surface level chapter/episode 1 Katsuki is literally the worst #but his glow up has been literally meteoric

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yuzuuu4 · 17 days

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stickers i once made for a small event

#cutting the borders was the worst part (i hand cut most of them)#these were all made in the middle of me taking exams <3 #the event passed a long while ago so i think its safe if i post these now #my favorites are based on what and apartment complex bc i drew them good #i still dont have my own copy of these im so sad #dan heng #caelus #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact #honkai star rail #hsr

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almea · 1 year

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#RWBY #Blake Belladonna #Yang Xiao Long #Bumbleby #rwby spoilers #This feels kind of inappropriate and I'm sorry #But I can't stop thinking about how Blake is the one reason Yang's still standing after she saw the literal worst thing in the world happen #I just felt extremely guilty the entire time I was making this #I'm still Processing everything else #Legitimately do not know if I can rewatch the episode right now without throwing up #otp: with every smile you told me i love you #For my own tagging purposes #It was a mistake to change my tag for them to something so disgustingly sweet

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the-judicial-assistants-notebook · 2 months

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the Klavier-Edgeworth parallels of I Don't Care How You Feel, the Truth Is the Only Thing That Matters™ are very interesting, but the Klavier-Phoenix parallels of nothing bad has ever affected me in my life idk what you're talking about that didn't mean anything I'm not talking about it I'm not thinking about it I'm not acknowledging it they may not be dead but they're dead to me and that's how I like it I'm never looking at them again because they're dead they're gone they're a ghost and this is a perfectly healthy way to live look at me I'm thriving I'm thriving I'm thriving are also very interesting, do you get what I'm saying.

#i dont think this is what people meant by have you ever thought of making a narumitsu fanchild #(<- nobody has asked me that i just thought it was funny)#addendum to the klavier post because i somehow didnt make the connection then. starting to think all the aa4 characters are several old #characters stuck in a blender and poured into a shiny new cup.#klavier gavin #phoenix wright #klavier's definitely better at the never looking at it again thing & i think that's due to his edgeworth iciness like i said originally #phoenix has too much heart and i think he's sort of in recovery from that type of behaviour (it's a work in progress)#anyway they should have faced off against each other again. dual destinies did many things poorly but having them appear in the same case #and interacting with zero tension was probably one of the things it did worst.#also awful that im still thinking about him. he's gotten in my head.

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ride-a-dromedary · 4 months

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[I'm sorry for your loss.] It was a long time ago. The wounds don't heal, but they become more bearable.

#Baldur's Gate 3 #Halsin #bg3edit #otheredits #my stuff #you ever seen halsin's expression after you express sympathy for his dead family? now you have - pain be upon ye #missing is the dead eye he has afterwards before the animation loop #halsin is a good example of no matter how old someone is they were someone's child once #they were someone who lost family they loved #grief like that never goes away - this is an original hurt that is buried beneath a hundred others - but it is the one that aches the worst #that's why halsin doesn't like keeping someone's mother away from them as a taunt even if it's an evil bastard #it's why he sympathizes with ketheric's decline in spite of the fact that he is the cause of such a massive weight on his conscious #he looks in the mirror and sees his father's face centuries later - he talks of his mother still #side note - it's why i think halsin would be *very* upset with wyll's daddy drama (on ulder's side of what he did to wyll)#and in spite of his rocky start with shadowheart he would be happy she could be reunited with her parents #because he'll never have that chance #anyway i am...sad #the point of this post is his expression destroys me because i felt it

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its-wabby-stuff · 5 months

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Replica DTIYS

Well, I’m flabbergasted that I managed to finish this, and I had a lot of fun doing it. And with enough time to finish my homework.

A gift for @kathaynesart DTIYS. Close ups under the cut, along with line art.

Background.

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autistic-daniil-dankovsky · 4 months

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remember this? well. let's go!

both ena and an have pretty famous fathers, and it was always somewhat expected of them to be worthy of their legacy, in some way. both of them were told, "of course you're good at art - you're shinei's daughter!" and "of course you're good at singing - you're ken's daughter!" respectively.

they were always perceived via their fathers, not allowed to step outside their shadow and be seen for themselves. they couldn't be ena or an.

and, you know, for a time, they went along with it. i mean, they were good at what they were doing.

but then... all comes crashing down.

for ena, there's the obvious bullshit that's going on with shinei. completely destroying her. because she admired her father, because he was the reason she wanted to do art to begin with, and he told her to her face that she would never be good enough.

her entire world fell apart, that day.

because no matter what she says, ena wants the approval of her father more than anything else. she wants him to tell her that she's worthy of being his daughter, that all her hard work amounts to something; anything.

but then, there's the eventual revelation that she wasn't anything, actually. she wasn't special.

everyone was better than her.

before, ena was a fish in a small pond, and of course, she was among the best. but now she's been dropped in a vast ocean, and she's small, and insignificant.

devoured by all the other fish.

one of them - and admittedly, the most important of them all - being futaba. she joined after ena, but she proved herself in much less time than her. and, even succeeded where ena failed - she never gave up, even when she was harshly criticised. never regressing artistically. never running away from art.

and there's something else, somewhere deep down - a fear. a fear that nightcord will abandon her when they realise she can't keep up with them. that she's not as good as they thought she was.

what will happen of her, then? she'll be all alone. unloved.

an goes through something similar.

she meets kohane, and she decides that this person is going to be her partner. that they're going to surpass THE rad weekend together, that no one could be better for this task but her.

but when she starts that relationship, it's with the assumption that she'll always be the teacher and that kohane will always be the student.

not in a mean, or pretentious way, no, not at all. simply, an was always told there was no way she couldn't surpass rad weekend, since she was ken's daughter. in her small pond, she was also among the very best.

but then, an realises something, too.

kohane is much better at everything than she is.

very similarly to ena's situation with futaba, kohane made much more progress in barely a year than an has in years. taiga - one of the old RADers, and somewhat of an uncle for an - recognised her potential, and asked to train her. not an, but kohane.

and of course, an is happy to know that! because that's her partner and friend, and an is happy to see her grow more confident and get better every day. because she cares. because she loves her.

but there's something in her chest - something that hurts and aches. she has to face the fact that she's not as good as she thought she was, that she isn't worthy of her father's legacy. that she isn't worthy of being kohane's partner, that she might be holding her back.

that she might be abandoned. left behind to rot.

what will happen of her, then? she'll be all alone. unloved.

to me - ena and an are two kids suffering under the weight of a legacy that's too heavy for them to carry, but that they can't let go of. they're also struggling with seeing their peers succeed where they repeatedly fail. they're all about being terrified of being abandoned because they're not good enough.

they're both confronted by this fact.

and it terrorises them.

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comradekatara · 1 month

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hey, so. people on twt (ugh, I need to delete that account) started to compare Zuko and Azula’s relationship to Sokka and Katara. So, I jump in like “they are not comparable in any way” then people are like “Sokka and Katara do have issues even though it’s not the same as Zuko and Azula” (even though the original tweet did imply that but, whatever). and I’m all like “sure, they both have trauma from their upbringing and they fight like siblings and that trauma probably has effected their relationship but it’s still no way like it’s being compared… they love and care for one another” and then they’re coming back like “it’s not the same but they still have issues” and citing the southern raiders (which I have my own opinions about and I feel like people totally miss read that scene) but all in all to say; I’m annoyed because I feel like people are being disingenuous and I feel like your thoughts would be interesting

okay yeah obviously I don’t know what the full arguments were (and I never will because I loathe twitter. I mean X sorry) but i can definitely talk about this more generally. I mean they are the central sibling pairs configured in a similar way for obvious reasons. they are definitely comparable.

sokka and zuko have superficial similarities as older brothers who feel undervalued, struggle to live up to a harmful patriarchal standard of gender (specifically masculinity/manhood) as shaped by imperialism/colonialism/war and the expectations their fathers placed on them to “be a real man” within a very limited framework, and ultimately find their worth via other avenues beyond the limited scope of patriarchal imperialist logic. azula and katara have superficial similarities as younger sisters who are placed on a pedestal by their culture community, are the best benders of their respective elements and outclass all the older more established (male) masters who dismiss and look down on them for being teenage girls, and who feel a deep sense of grief due to the loss of their mothers that informs everything they do and fundamentally who they are as people. and then obviously the REAL foils who are foiling are katara and zuko, and sokka and azula. these pairs are each very obvious mirrors, both in terms of their personalities (as developed differently by their respective environments) and their arcs. zuko is fire nation katara. azula is fire nation sokka. so obviously their relationships are similar in this way. they are narratively constructed as parallels.

that said, I think the key primary difference between these sets of siblings is that zuko and azula are directly opposed due to being pitted against each other by ozai’s abuse, whereas sokka and katara are extremely codependent, to the point that sokka’s entire identity is shaped by his role as katara’s brother and protector. so if you read zuko as a foil to sokka (which he certainly somewhat is, but is not the primary foil to sokka) you’ll get confused because he doesn’t live for others and he doesn’t look out for azula at all. but azula, like sokka, does define her identity through her loyalty and her ability to best serve others, so she does try to help zuko as best she can, which is obviously hindered by the incredibly limited of scope of what she considers “helpful” (much in the same way that sokka’s protection of katara is often limited by his own narrow worldview and unhealthy sense of duty as it corresponds to his identity). azula wants zuko to be a “perfect prince” in the way that she is a “perfect princess” because she refuses to acknowledge how specifically harmful that paradigm is to both of them until it is too late. so her intentions are actually good (don’t @ me), but she’s just deeply misguided and her level of cognitive dissonance is off the charts generally (again, much like sokka).

meanwhile katara and zuko, despite loving their families a lot and feeling defined by their families in many ways, are still very self-focused. which isn’t to say that’s a bad thing or that they’re selfish (they are both defined by an incredibly passionate and outspoken sense of justice for others, of course), but rather that they understand that what they want is to further their own interests for their own benefit even as they are seeking justice for the entire world. (in katara’s worlds: “me. me, personally!”) but like. if anything, the fact that azula and sokka never think in terms of the ego but only in terms of servitude to the point that they are actually detached from their own humanity is deeply unhealthy and awful, which is why so much of sokka’s arc is about getting him to understand his intrinsic worth as a human being and the value of accepting help, and azula’s tragedy and downfall is precipitated by her acknowledgement that she has been deliberately isolated her entire life and now she is alone and utterly helpless.

I do see katara and zuko as quite heroic, inspiring characters, to azula and sokka’s quite tragic, heartbreaking characters (especially azula of course, but like. I don’t think sokka’s deep-seated, copious issues have somehow been magically resolved just because “the boiling rock” is his apotheosis. you get it). but katara was always the “valued” sibling whereas azula began as the valued sibling and zuko rose above her by disrupting/transcending the paradigm that valued her only to end up in the position that she felt teleologically entitled to (not to say that she thought she would become fire lord, but that he does become the most powerful player in the fire nation, at least in name). and a large part of that is the fact that katara and sokka grew up in extremely different conditions than azula and zuko did, even if both their worldviews are informed by imperialism and patriarchy in some way. so katara was valued as a sort of cultural artefact who represents the last hope of a dying people, whereas azula was valued as the obedient daughter of a powerful abusive patriarch. it’s still a way of ascribing “value,” but the criteria are completely different in both cases. which is why I still think that azula and sokka are functionally more similar, because even if azula is valued, it is with the expectation that she function in the same way that sokka is expected to function, as a depersonalized vessel for the good of their people.

so there are similarities for sure, but also those similarities are constantly being complicated through locating their respective cultural contexts as they informed their upbringing, psychologies, and sibling relationships. I will say that it’s true that both of these relationships are unhealthy (to an extent), and both sets of siblings parallel each other in very significant ways, but the ways in which their relationships are in fact “unhealthy” are nonetheless almost diametrically opposed.

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theminecraftbee · 4 months

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an explosive repetition

this is a gift for @caracuuw for @mcytblrholidayexchange! please enjoy some time travel fwhimmy! this is crossposted to the ao3 collection here. i had fun writing it; happy holidays, and enjoy!

===

The embers of the campfire burn low during the yearly meeting of Emperors. People cheer to the newest of their number; the Codfather had been late, but he’d arrived, panting and covered in leaves and apologizing. They’d talked in quiet tones about things only people who were the emperors of their own nations could discuss, about the year to come, about the power afforded to them, and, while not about politics—the campfire meeting had never truly been for politics—they discussed what to expect from each other on an interpersonal level. Something changes in a person, when the life of a nation is tied to them. That’s what being an emperor means, even if these days only about half of them go by ‘emperor’ and only just about as many inherited their positions; even now, Fwhip remembers the day he was given the leadership title over his sister, and the way the sudden weight of the entire nation settled over his shoulders, and he knew what being an emperor was.

He feels a bit like that now, actually, except also significantly more on fire.

Not literally. He is no longer literally on fire. But, like, it’s sort of hard to forget the feeling of being on fire, even briefly. It lingers under his skin. That hadn’t happened when he’d gone from Fwhip to Count Fwhip. If that had involved being set on fire he probably would have tried harder to refuse at the time instead of being all like ‘oh hey I am no longer the unwanted second son but a vital part of this nation’, because being on fire sucks, and he doesn’t recommend it to anyone.

Pretending he is not on fire also sucks. If it weren’t for the fact he looked across the campfire, saw Jimmy appear, and saw him shaking in a very particular way too, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hide how on-fire he was. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to navigate the conversations that are normally held at a campfire meeting. He’s pretty sure he barely navigated them as it was. He had been too busy giving Jimmy baffled looks at every free moment, trying to figure out why he was technically no longer literally on fire, and freaking out about how these were all the conversations he’d had last year, actually, and he sort of remembered them, and hey maybe he only has to pay half attention anyway because if they’re the same conversations as last year, there won’t be anything important for him to know, because he already knows it, and oh man what had he gotten himself into now, and—

The point is that during their secretive magic meeting and all that, Fwhip had mostly been on fire. Is he thinking straight? He’s not thinking straight.

He waits until basically everyone has left (Pixlriffs hasn’t yet, but the Copper King has a tendency to stick around at these things and Fwhip doesn’t think he’ll get rid of him) before rounding on Jimmy.

“You,” he says.

“Me? What do you mean me? This is your fault!” Jimmy says back.

“If you hadn’t had your stupid idea of making peace or whatever…”

“Oh, well excuse me, but it was your machine that blew up. I’m still on fire!” Jimmy pauses. “Metaphorically! I’m metaphorically on fire!”

“I mean, it’s not a metaphor when it feels a lot like actual fire, that’s not what a metaphor is I think?” Fwhip says.

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks.

“I mean, I think so?” Fwhip says.

They both pause for a moment to contemplate this. Jimmy shrugs. “That’s not important!” he decides at last. “The point is. You set us on fire! You blew us up! You blew us up so hard we time traveled!”

“And would that have happened if I’d just been using salmon power? No! No, it has to be your stupid cod that did it!” Fwhip says.

“Well I think it was your stupid face!” Jimmy says. Fwhip gasps.

“You take that back,” he says.

“Make me!” Fwhip says.

“Um,” Pixlriffs says, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. “You know, I’m just going to leave now. And leave you to… your time travel? No wonder I’ve had a headache for the past week.”

Fwhip and Jimmy stare at him.

“I’m very good at pretending I don’t know the future, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Pixlriffs says, and before Fwhip can interrogate him on that, he darts into the woods. It’s a little awkward, with none of the mysterious grace a statement like that should have, and all the gangly arms and legs the Copper King has had for ages. For a man with so much mystery around him, he’s always been a little too silly, a little too awkward, and a little too approachable. Fwhip’s always wondered if it’s a trap. Fwhip wonders if he’s actually going to not tell anyone. Fwhip…

Fwhip turns back to Jimmy and discovers Jimmy staring after the Copper King, a wistful, fond, and exhausted expression on his face. It’s so out of place with the yelling, and the time travel, and with Fwhip’s knowledge that Jimmy’s the pettiest emperor on the entire continent. It makes Fwhip’s stomach hurt.

It’s quiet.

“Sorry,” Jimmy says. “Sorry. I haven’t seen him in a long time. He was never really the same after—I haven’t seen him in a while. I should go have tea with him. There’s a fancy word for that where he’s from but I never remember it. He’s always been nice about that.”

“Oh,” Fwhip says.

“He looks less tired,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, well you look kind of like shit,” Fwhip says.

Jimmy smiles, low and sad. “Yeah, well, you look even more—more bad. When did you last sleep?”

Fwhip doesn’t answer.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m supposed to be yelling at you about the time travel. Did you really blow us up so badly we went back in time?”

“Do you have a better answer?”

“I mean, I don’t know! I don’t want to be dead! I’m already on fire.”

Fwhip thinks of rumors about the Copper King and omens. He swallows. “Yeah, you know what, I’ll buy it’s time travel. Time travel! Back to the beginning of all of this! Just when things were finally starting to really work out for everyone!”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “Just when.”

They both sit down in front of the embers of the fire, almost at the same moment. It’s surprisingly cold now that the fire has mostly died. It shouldn’t be cold at the same time as being on fire, but maybe it’s the absence of any new fire to warm them with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’d been sitting, trying to have a conversation, getting used to the fire. He wouldn’t know. It seems distinctly like the kind of thing that Gem would know, except Gem has only just ascended to officially being Head Wizard, and she hadn’t had a war with a demon yet to really dig into the archives. She might not know. She might not tell him. He understands if she doesn’t. She’d always been the more responsible sibling in most ways that matter, and…

“Fuck,” Fwhip says. “Fuck, I blew us up and we’re back in time.”

“Stop swearing,” Jimmy says. “Besides, it was my fault, wasn’t it? Council told me not to do it and everything. I’m a failure like that.”

“Only one of us has got failure in the name, buddy.”

“Hah. Yeah, true, your parents suck.”

“It’s supposed to be for good luck. Shows what the Grimlands know.”

He shudders. He’s still on fire. He doesn’t know how to stop being on fire. He thinks maybe it’s all in his head, except for the fact Jimmy’s on fire too. It just—it had happened so fast. One moment, he and Jimmy had been shaking hands, and announcing they were burying the hatchet, and unveiling the salmon-cod reactor. It had been a good moment. Sure, there had been no way he and Jimmy would have stopped disagreeing, but they were committing to no more wars. To attempting to talk. To attempting peace. Fwhip hadn’t really wanted to hurt Jimmy for months anyway, and they’d both known it. Too many other things had happened, and even if the salmon and cod had stood between them before, the salmon-cod reactor would prove that with their powers together, they could be something more.

He’d turned to shake Jimmy’s hand one more time, the papers sign.

Then, the world had exploded.

It had hurt. He’s still on fire now, but it doesn’t hurt like that momentary flash of light, the twinned look of horror in Jimmy’s eyes, the realization something had gone horribly wrong, and then the world exploding around him. Someone had screamed; Fwhip still isn’t certain if that had been him. Fwhip had reached, a moment late, for the emergency stop. He’s not sure why, in hindsight. Some ingrained instinct to try to hit that button whenever something went wrong, maybe.

He’d been on fire. The world had been on fire. The earth had shaken. Jimmy had said something.

Then, the world exploded again, proving that instinct to hit the emergency stop a moment too late had been right after all, and Fwhip had woken up just outside of the campfire meeting. He went through it on autopilot.

“So, uh,” Jimmy starts. “We time traveled, huh?”

“We sure did,” agrees Fwhip.

“What do we do now? Because like, if we change stuff, do we vanish and die? I don’t want to vanish and die because I changed the time stream, man,” Jimmy says, wringing his hands nervously. His gills flare in and out on his neck.

“Pixlriffs literally already knows we time traveled.”

“And that was your fault, wasn’t it?”

“Mine? How was it my fault? You were arguing with me!”

“No, you were arguing with me!”

“Well, he’s your friend, so it’s your fault. I barely know the guy in this time.” Fwhip pauses. “I mean, I knew him later, when we were all sort of on the same side. He’s fun! Had some great ideas about how to handle corruption, liked explosions well enough, the whole works. But right now, he’s your friend, not mine.”

Jimmy pauses and frowns. “Oh, right. Hey, wait, that doesn’t make it my fault!”

“I think it does.”

“Look, I don’t know what to do with time travel either. Maybe Pixlriffs won’t say anything? I mean, he’ll tease us about it, but he doesn’t normally say anything about his whole… you know, right? It’s fine. It’s fine!”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe that won’t change much,” Fwhip concedes.

Finally, the burning is starting to fade as the sun sets. Fwhip realizes he doesn’t know what that means. Maybe, he thinks grimly, he’d been burning because he’d set the Grimlands ablaze, too, but there isn’t enough Grimlands left to burn. Maybe it’s just time, though. Maybe it’s nothing quite so terrible. Besides, it’s good, the not being on fire. Very good, that. He doesn’t want to be on fire. Being on fire is… bad.

Lots of things are bad, actually. Maybe he doesn’t feel like he’s burning because he’s no longer at risk of erasing himself from existence? Or, worse—because he already is being erased from existence.

“Gods, Jimmy, I might actually kill you for this one,” Fwhip says. “I’m at least going to do something you hate.”

“So, good news, you’re supposed to steal my music disc about now,” Jimmy says.

“…really?”

“Did—did you not even remember that’s why this started?” Jimmy asks incredulously.

“I don’t know man, I don’t care about a stupid shitty music disc right now!”

“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe I was making peace with you. I can’t believe I was going to kiss you and everything. The nerve!”

“Listen, I thought it was a religious conflict! The cod and salmon thing! You know, inherent irreconcilable differences and all that!” Fwhip says defensively. He pauses. He goes back. “What was that last bit?”

“What, your nerve?”

“No, the part about—you were going to kiss me?”

Jimmy goes very, very still. “Ignore that,” Jimmy says. “Ignore it. Ignore it! It doesn’t matter right now. Besides, we’re enemies again now, right?”

“Right,” Fwhip says, feeling strangely disappointed. “I mean, I would have kissed you back. Even when we were enemies.”

“…really?” Jimmy says.

“I mean, yeah, I like people who might stab me,” Fwhip says.

“I don’t know how to take that,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, it’s a problem.”

“I can imagine.”

It’s awkward now. Now that Fwhip isn’t on fire, it’s—it’s awkward between them. Fwhip doesn’t know where he stands. He should probably mock Jimmy about having a crush, but it’s a little late to do that, on account of having admitted to having a crush himself. It feels like the kind of thing they should ignore at the moment, really, given that…

“Anyway, I guess I’m stealing a music disk and maybe your codfather hat?” Fwhip says.

“I’m going to have to act like killing the dragon is a good idea,” Jimmy says, vaguely sick-sounding.

“Relax, it’ll be fun for me to get to yell at you.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a while. The thing is, really, that Fwhip doesn’t want to die.

“I mean, it can’t be that much harder to do the same way a second time, right?” Jimmy says, trying to hype himself up. “I’ve already done it once! It’s like, I already know how to do all of this for sure! Yeah! It can’t—it can’t be that bad. Can I kiss you though? Since you know anyway. It won’t be changing anything, promise, I’ve just—since I was going to do it. To seal the alliance. Our secret alliance. Can we at least have one of those? So when—when it’s all my fault that a demon’s here and all—”

“That really wasn’t your fault,” Fwhip says.

“Please?” Jimmy says.

Fwhip considers it. Fwhip shrugs. “Yeah. Secret alliance, until we get the real one in the end. Secret alliance to preserve the future.”

Jimmy sniffles. “Yeah, that.”

They both awkwardly lean in. Fwhip has never kissed Jimmy before; he’d always imagined it would taste kind of slimy. It doesn’t, although it does taste a little like fish, which makes Fwhip sort of want to laugh hysterically. Instead, he just pulls in deeper. Suddenly, they’re both kissing with the desperation of the two only people in the whole world; they might as well be. They’re the only ones who know. They’re the only ones who are here. They’re the only ones who are about to have to do—to do everything. A second time. Then, they’re kissing with tongue, and Fwhip nearly pushes Jimmy to the ground trying to press his entire body into Jimmy’s. One of them might be crying; it might even be Fwhip. He’s on fire again, he thinks. He’s not sure what to do. It’s all gone. It’s all gone. They’re starting over, hurtling towards a happy ending interrupted by the worst mistake imaginable, teetering on an edge with only each other, and they’d only just learned to stand next to each other without threats like a week ago. Fwhip doesn’t know what to do. Fwhip doesn’t know what to do. So he just keeps going, the two of them practically clawing at each other trying to dig into the skin of someone who at least is trapped with them, and—

Jimmy, suddenly, as though spooked, pushes Fwhip away. They stand there panting for a moment. Fwhip tries to bring his head back down to reality.

“Why do you have gunpowder on your mouth?” Jimmy asks, almost like he’s saying something else.

Fwhip really does get hysterical, then. “Oh, wow, okay, secret alliance. Okay, we’re doing this. Okay. Okay! You taste like fish.”

“I am a fish.”

“Not anymore!” Fwhip says, and he cackles. “You aren’t—you aren’t anymore, remember? You and Lizzie were all—cursed? Anti-cursed? Shit, do you even know you're siblings yet?”

“Oh, seas,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah. Yeah!”

“I don’t—Fwhip, I don’t know if I can do this,” Jimmy says.

“Tough shit,” Fwhip says. “Because I can’t do it either.”

They stand there staring at each other for a while.

“But what happens if we screw it up?” Jimmy asks. “What happens if—even if changing it’s okay, until we blew ourselves up, it was—”

“It was good,” whispers Fwhip. “It was good. We were happy. It was okay. It was good.”

“What happens if we never get that back?”

Neither Fwhip nor Jimmy can answer it. They just keep standing there by the campfire, waiting for an answer that won’t come. Instead, the minutes keep slipping away, and the weight of everything that’s just been undone gets heavier, and heavier, and heavier, until Fwhip would prefer the fire.

“Okay,” Jimmy says. “Okay. I have—I still have a nation to run.”

“Yeah, so do—so do I. Here. A personal—this is a personal number. Only Gem has it. If you call using it—”

“Okay. Yeah. Secret alliance,” agrees Jimmy. “We kissed on it and everything, that makes it unbreakable, I think. I don’t know. I haven’t kissed many people. Does this make us—the only real couple I know is Joel and Lizzie, really, and I’m not sure we should model this off of Joel, as much as I love him.”

“Jimmy, if we make it to the end of this without going insane, I will propose to you, and we’ll have a wedding to make it official. We can upstage Joel and Lizzie and everything. I don’t care what’s actually a good idea,” Fwhip says.

“You wouldn’t,” Jimmy says.

“You’re one to talk,” Fwhip says.

“Thank you,” Jimmy says, and it’s the single most desperate thing Fwhip has ever heard the other emperor say. He never wants to hear it again.

“It’s—we’re in it together, man. I’m not that selfish,” Fwhip says.

Jimmy rubs his eyes. “Good to know we’re both learning that about ourselves.”

“Can we stay here a little longer?” Fwhip says. “Just until the embers run out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says.

They do. They sit next to each other. At some point, Fwhip grabs Jimmy’s hand. He stares as the fire burns down. Neither of them say much else. He doesn’t know if that’s for the better or not. Maybe they should talk more. Maybe they should try to work out what they should do, or what a secret alliance even looks like. Maybe they should argue again, because that’s fun, but—

Fwhip doesn’t know. This works, at least.

They can figure it out tomorrow. Yeah. That seems like a decision that won’t have consequences at all.

“Hey, Jimmy—” he says, and then stops. “Never mind.”

“You’re weird,” Jimmy says. “I can’t believe I time traveled with you.”

“Ditto, man.”

They can figure it out tomorrow.

#empires smp #empiresshipping #jimmy solidarity #fwhip #fwhimmy #a bee fic #anyway i think these two would be like. the world's worst time travelers. in a DELIGHTFUL way. but still.#so i HOPE YOU LIKE THIS #this fic is like 90% dialogue tbh but that's because i was having too much fun writing the dialogue lol #anyway empires season one fwhimmy is a DYNAMIC and i had fun writing it #idk if this is perfect? this is my first time trying to write them! but i definitely had FUN #so enjoy it!#mcytblrholidayexchange2023 #also I know I don’t normally post shipping stuff to this blog. but I hope you like it anyway!

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