#but i did miss y'all

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 2

🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie

This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window. 

It’s not happening. 

Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his. 

Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light. 

It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone. 

Who’s hurting you, Steve? 

Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and— 

“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.” 

“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will. 

He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again. 

He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so… 

So much like Eddie’s fucking problem. 

He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe. 

It’s just not tight. 

“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it. 

“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?” 

He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm. 

But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time. 

He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—

“I don’t know what.” 

It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again. 

Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small. 

“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.” 

Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks. 

Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about. 

God, he never did like blood. 

“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?” 

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.” 

“Her.” 

Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right? 

“What?” 

“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”

Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own. 

“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.” 

That's... really fucking endearing, actually. 

And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet. 

Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?

He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out. 

“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.

Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion. 

“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?” 

Oh no. 

“Why’m I in y—“ 

“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?” 

Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer. 

Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too. 

Past all of it. 

Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house. 

But he can’t. So he breathes. 

At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people. 

But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers. 

“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?” 

“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.” 

And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now. 

He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel. 

He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view. 

The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice. 

It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe. 

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?” 

He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.

“Ed?” 

“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.” 

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—

Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again. 

“Ed. Are you in trouble?” 

“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“ 

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?” 

He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.  

“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.” 

“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?” 

Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”

“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.” 

It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole. 

He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side. 

“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door. 

It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this. 

“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much. 

He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on. 

Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now. 

Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?

“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask. 

Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me? 

Somehow, Eddie manages a smile. 

Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen. 

Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now. 

Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away. 

Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break. 

“Blue, you with me?”

Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.

“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?” 

“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest. 

Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder. 

“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady. 

“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know.” But maybe I will. 

“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.” 

Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.” 

Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.” 

Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is. 

Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.” 

It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home. 

This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible. 

And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie. 

He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.

Why not? You need a doctor—

Monsters. Only monsters there.

It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back. 

Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch. 

He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear. 

“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.” 

Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.

Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up. 

Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away. 

It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not… 

He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier. 

These things don’t happen. They don’t! 

“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.” 

Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately. 

In. Hold. Out. Hold. 

He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void. 

He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.

Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad. 

Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore. 

Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue. 

He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. 

Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve. 

“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.” 

“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right. 

“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue. 

“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds. 

“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers. 

”I want my mom.“ 

”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?” 

Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away. 

He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama. 

”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.” 

And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”

Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared. 

And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted. 

And now… 

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?” 

Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this. 

“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…” 

“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”

And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment. 

He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that? 

But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk. 

“Thank you.” 

Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie. 

“For, uh. This.” 

“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.” 

Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.” 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness. 

“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation. 

He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out. 

“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.

He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking. 

Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small. 

Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again. 

Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words. 

“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?” 

“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“ 

It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again. 

“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?” 

Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is. 

“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug. 

Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt. 

“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest. 

Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again. 

“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.

More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment. 

“Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.” 

The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them. 

“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”

It soothes the urge to scream.

Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth. 

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car. 

Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Later, Ed.” 

And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real. 

But it did. And it is. 

And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside. 

He has a phone call to make.

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)

addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington whump #this is so long i am SORRY #i hope tagging y'all was okay (and equally i'm hoping i missed nobody but also it is 3am) #who did this to you #most of y'all will know most of the beginning already maybe i should have split it up but i wanted y'all to have Something New too #and then the Something New got out of hand and oh well :( #dio words

[tangledinink]

PATREON - KO-FI - COMMISSION INFO

'hey, whatchya makin' over there--? oh good god--'

yay! a ✨masterpost.✨

general art tag is here.

faq is here-- plz consider reading before you send an ask!

friendly reminder post!

-> 💎 I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now?

[ rottmnt au in which splinter is able to obtain cloaking brooches when the turtles are still tots, and they live their lives are 'normal' humans, so very much so that they eventually forget their mutant origins... until they remember... ]

cw: themes of child neglect/endangerment, child abuse, gender dysphoria, self-sacrifice, and mental illness. plz be mindful of tags.

-> 💫 Gemini AU

[ rottmnt sep au focusing on leo and donnie raised by big mama in the grand nexus hotel and performing in the battle nexus-- and, eventually, their long-lost family members. ]

cw: themes of child abuse, self-sacrifice, cults, blood and injury, ableism, emotional manipulation, sexual assault, and csa. plz be mindful of tags.

-> 🦶 Foot Squad AU

[ rottmnt au in which the turtles were raised in the foot clan alongside cassandra jones, and, eventually, april o'neil ]

cw: themes of child abuse, cults, and emotional manipulation. plz be mindful of tags.

-> 🧬 TMNT: Stabilize

[ tmnt fan iteration following the turtles' attempt to uncover the origin of the mutated forms in order to save the life of their father, master splinter ]

cw: themes of child neglect, parentification, chronic/terminal illness, death, mental illness, psychosis, and self harm. plz be mindful of tags.

-> 🦢 Swanatello

[ that's right-- the au the fandom has for SO LONG been asking for. a rottmnt x swan lake crossover. you guys... you guys HAVE been asking for this, right...? ]

cw: themes of memory loss/delusions/unreality, domestic abuse, and death. plz be mindful of tags.

-> 🐢 Processing Grief Through Ninja Turtles

[ a very loose 'series' of comics exploring grief/loss with rottmnt ]

cw: themes of grief, death, loss of a parent, and loss of a sibling. plz be mindful of tags.

#masterpost #is this ok did i do it right #y'all tell me if i missed anything or did anything dumb okay? #OKAY we have #split it up into multiple masterposts #coz i #i make too much stuff oops

[quickhacked]

HADES ➤ [12/?]

#hades #hadesedit #gamingedit #dailygaming #aartyom #swordcoasts #userarklay #userbrujah #usercoffeebucko #userkarlo #usermorvaris #userredacted #usersteelport #nucleargifs #*h #back on my gifmaking bullshit sorry </3 i have my laptop back so i can be annoying again did y'all miss me #fun fact all gifsets of the gods thus far have been the same dimensions so aphrodite is just very tiny

[jeeaark]

Final Showdown pt 1

Final Showdown pt 2.

So the key to becoming a lil more chill with the patch 0 Orpheus ending is realizing what I can get away with off camera. Brain fell down and nobody saw how we landed? No Emps in sight? Who knows long it took to regroup? One reasonable patch 0 ending where everyone lives coming up.

and I would've been content with this ending too if it weren't for those meddling patches.

Felt validated about the artifact solution though when the epilogue came out. As if Greygold wouldn't keep that lil doo-hickey after all this, practically a bag of holding for people.

Had to jump some logic hoops for Orph though. Don't think Greygold would be willing to risk any potential confrontation with Orpheus about Emps after this. Try and pull their first Squid Trick on him. But uh. Turns out! Orph Buddy's got mad wisdom. Dude has probably seen every Squid Trick in the book. Although. Not so silly as Greygold's attempts.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #greygold #lae'zel #the emperor bg3 #bg3 orpheus #squid greygold #If I don't have everyone at least say mfer once what is the point #funny story I couldn't put my heart into drawing: Lae'zel's last attack missed. Greygold had to land the finishing blow. #but I like to think Greygold made it look like Lae'zel killed the brain. tiny arrow. nobody saw nuthin'. Team effort. No kill steal here. #Was I tempted to have Greygold levitate-catch Emps like the beginning of the game? yes. #But the cutscene of 'em scramble-falling off the brain told me that. I think they forgot they could levitate for a hot minute. #So. Awkward catch it is! #never found out what that netherbrain energy ball did in that fight. but uh. #let's just say thank gods the boss was defeated in time because NOBODY WAS DODGING IT aldkjksdjf #Most romantic fight between Greygold and Lae'zel hands down y'all

[babytrapperdiaz]

so are we not talking about Hen saying, "what's going to happen when we do something denny doesn't like, is he going to go running to his father?" in an episode where Eddie is dating again? when the last time he started dating, Christopher DIDN'T LIKE IT and LITERALLY RAN(UBERED) TO BUCK'S!??!!? ok.

#y'all i know i'm late but i'm like so suprised i haven't seen anything about this? did i miss it 😭 #911 spoilers #911 #911 fox #911 on fox #hen wilson #henren #eddie diaz #buddie #evan buckley

[magnusbae]

Dreamling - Comfort given freely - 691w

Dream has a hard time accepting all the succor he had received from Hob since his return in 2020.

▾▾▾

"Why?” Dream asks.

“I knew you needed it” Hob smiles at him “and I could give it, so what’s the harm in that?”

Dream averts his eyes, pride and hurt fighting inside of him. He does not wish to be so, he wishes not to be depended on anyone’s pity, on anyone’s scrapes of empathy— but oh stars, how he does need it, how much the empty spaces of the fabric of his soul crave it, want it.

He cannot face this man, cannot look him in the eyes and let him know that he had won. Won where others did not. Many had gained his affections, some had gained his love, but Hob....Hob had won his trust. He had won his trust and he had won him over.

He has the power over him, one of the Endless.

Something that should not be, shouldn't have happened.

“Morpheus?” Hob asks, a short silence, and closer “Dream” he says, gentle, gentle as if talking to a wounded thing, a hurt thing.

Is there no end to this man’s pity? 

Dream’s insides twists, for he knows that Hob is honest, and that Hob is true. He knows that he means it, means this care of his. Dream wonders if he should leave, if he was mistaken for questioning it. Perhaps he should accept it, allow his pride some rest. And yet—

“I love you.” Hob says.

Dream looks up, sharp, alert. 

“What?” he says, though he had heard him quite well. 

“I love you.” Hob says with a shrug, kind eyes looking sad “You don’t need to think so hard about it, there’s nothing to it other than that, I love you, I love you and I’d do anything for you” Hob finds his eyes, and smiles again, there's a deeply rooted fondness in that look.

For a moment, Dream's shadow distorts, the lights in the room flickering. He notices that as he notices the heat in his chest, at his neck, on his face. This body of his, this image he presents to the world, should not do things he does not choose to show.

Words that are his to command, that come so easily to him at most days, are lost to him now as he opens his mouth and no sound comes out in response to Hob's confession.

Love. He knows love. Bright and passionate, strong and wild, worlds consumed, galaxies worth of feelings— love is not this, not the calm patience of a friend, not the endless devotion, not the... soothing safety he feels in Hob's presence.

“You confuse.” Dream answers at last.

“No I don’t” Hob’s light reply comes without a hint of argument.

“Hob Gadling, you—”

“—love you?” Hob completes, this time smiling. 

Annoyance ignites whitin Dream, the heat on his face deepening. 

“Do not mock me.” he starts, voice raising a fraction, deepening a bit. He will not allow this. He will not stand here as a mere human makes mockery of—

“Dream, I don’t.” Hob reaches a hand— hesitates only a second— and takes a hold of Dream’s tense hand. “It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t expect you to, but this..” he presses their joint hands across his own chest “...is how I feel. I’d do crazier things for you than just care for you, " he stops as if he swallowed one last word, looking mildly bashful but with an unashamed smile on his lips. “tis just how it is” he says and squeezes Dream’s hand firmer against his chest.

Dream can feel the quick rhythm of his heart, can feel the roughness of his hand, can sense the human warmth of him— he can feel his love.

"I...understand." he says, and this is not true, he does not.

He does not understand this form of love. Does not know how to experience nor how to express it. Yet he finds himself wishing for it. Finds himself wanting not for the scorching heat of a dying star but for the soothing tranquility of a spring lake. Something calm, something without waves to drown him under. Something...safe.

Something that might just be Hob Gadling.

#I found this thing from back in november‚ to the most part I left it unedited however I did add a bit to it :) #Dream's type of love is very... hectic. He had great and full of turmoil romances. Makes sense he'd miss out a different type. #Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #I need to be asleep actually lmao so I don't have time for a final re-read hope y'all feel the softness though~ Hob's unconditional love!

[hydrodragons]

genshin impact gif challenge ✦

[1/?] archon quests → interlude chapter, act iii: inversion of genesis

“do you think there are any differences between your present self and your previous and future incarnations? if not, then what are the differences between humans and puppets? whoever has tasted the joys and sorrows of life in the human realm is human. whoever has loved and lost, cried with grief, howled with rage at the tragedy of death that eclipses the miracle of life... they are human too."

#genshin impact #genshinedit #genshinimpactedit #genshinet #scaramouche #wanderer #mine* #scaramouche* #gifchallenge* #tw flashing #i finally found a way to format quests!! #it hit me yesterday as i was finding a quote to put for raiden then boom here we are #i was gonna make the whole thing black and white and blue hence the first two gifs #but i didn't end up liking how it looked so more colours it is 🫶🏻 #also chose a long ass quote for the caption (it's two separate voicelines into one) #but i felt it was important to emphasize the puppet and human description that nahida tells scara #ahhhhh i love this quest a lot i remember having mixed feelings about him erasing his identity when i first played through it #but then i rewatched it again later and ended up liking it more bc it shows that not everyone can just erase themselves from irminsul #the same way rukkhadevata did #god i just miss sumeru so much it's still my fave of all the nations when are we going back y'all 😩 #pls give me more scara and nahida interactions i beg they're my favourite platonic pairing ever (besides kazuven ofc)

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript:

As soon as Dawn climbs over the edge, Atlas runs to her, and they crash into each other with a fierce hug.

Atlas: I thought I’d lost you. Dawn: I’m here, I’m okay.

When Phoenix makes it up a moment later, Atlas rushes over to give him a hug as well.

Atlas: Thank you. Phoenix finds himself unable to speak, managing only a choked sob.

They all come together, and for a moment just stare at each other like they’re not quite sure what to do next. Then, Dawn breaks the silence and startles them all by screaming:

Dawn: Holy shit!

With that, they all slowly devolve into fits of laughter.

Kiyoshi: Alright alright, is everyone good?

They respond with various forms of yeses and nods as they wipe their eyes and catch their breath.

Kiyoshi: Let’s get moving then. We still have a ways to go.

And so, they continue on, making their way to the summit through the deep snow.

Hours later, the sun begins to set. Even through all their layers, the cold seeps into their bones, their extremities already numb. All four of them are exhausted, muscles and lungs burning. They hike in silence, each one focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other.

Just as Phoenix is wondering whether he’s going to make it, he feels Dawn pull on this arm.

His breath catches for a second thinking something might be wrong, but when he looks up she’s smiling. Her smile is so big and bright that his heart skips a beat and he can’t help but stare in awe.

Dawn: Phoenix, look! We made it!

#ok so yes they did not do the cave woohoo #seems like a big miss but #it didn't feel right for the storyline #between dawn being sick and the chaos of the fall #not to mention her brother would be right outside #y'all gotta settle for the tent #still counts as public woohoo 2/5 lol #this is the end of part 2 of the story btw! #but we still gotta figure out what's going on with Dawn #answers coming soon 👀 #and i promise no one will fall off a cliff in part 3 lol #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt2 #phoenix realta #dawn stephens #atlas stephens #kiyoshi ito

[oh-katsuki]

im gonna say something corny but... the profound effect that living in a women-only house had on me was and is insane. it was (almost) completely by chance that only women ended up living there, but i think moving in with my housemates was possibly the best decision i've ever made. i genuinely wish i could describe that kind of love and community, but i don't have the vocabulary. all that i know is that it's such a privilege to have gotten to live in that house and to love those women and to get to keep loving them. they're my most precious friends and i owe that feeling of safety and community to them. there was just something very special about that house. i was very lucky, i think. i don't think people get to love like this every day.

#im having a lot of big feelings tonight #and i miss my friends #and my house and the way it felt to live there #and come home to them #i want to grip the world in my hand and tell them how lucky i am #and i KNOW this is corny #but y'all... i hit the fucking jackpot with them i really did #and i WISH i had the words to articulate it #if i ever write one beautiful thing.. please let it be about them #vent

[aeb-art]

is this out of character? yeah a little, but i'm laughing so

finally got to draw @8um8le's mall toons again 🥺💕 i missed them so much

#2024 #stellar city #sc geo #self insert #self ship #sc ash #sc hydro #sc tele #sc pyro #sc mall toons #geo don't ask questions you don't want the answers too #do y'all even believe me that i like night more than hills? it is true actually but i do have an earth bot bias so i understand any doubt #hydro's hat looks weird i'm realizing... it's a floppy beanie 😔 i'll do better next time my friend #why did i write the dialogue with a sharpie... hard to read- sorry #anyway i really did miss drawing geo so much gosh i'm glad i feel well enough to draw again #y'know now that i'm thinking about it- hydro probably would've known night was my favorite since he plays him :x he'd clock me

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Holy shit, my inbox is finally empty again O_O

#dreamer talks #i did it #i fucking did it! #sorry again to anyone i missed! #i did my best y'all #there was so fucking many to get to #thanks as always for everything! <3

[joshduhamels]

Josh Duhamel Attending The UFC 300 Event At T-Mobile Arena In Las Vegas, Nevada | April 13, 2024.

#jduhameledit #dailymenededit #dilfsource #mancandykings #flawlessgentlemen #mensource #Josh Duhamel #love of my life #psssst... guess whose back to editing? i did a thing y'all #OH MY GOD I'VE MISSED HIM LIKE A FREAKING LOT #asdfghjkl; #he's so cute wtf is this? i can't... #*** #Mine!

[laelaex]

𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂, 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. 𝓢𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓽 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵.

South Korean heiress MiMi Wang wows netizens with her visuals at an airport in Paris, debuting pink hair ahead of her Paris Fashion Week appearance.

#laelaex simblr #laelaex sims #ts4 #ts4cc #laelaex #sims 4 #ts4 alpha #ts4 rp #sims 4 cc #asian sims 4 #Sim: MiMi Wang #Did y'all miss her? Because I know I did lol #sims 4 render #sims 4 blender #sims 4 realistic

[myassbrokethefall]

IT'S SCULLY'S 60TH BIRTHDAY (made by Julie Ng)

happy 60 years of being the only one thinking it through 👑

#she wants to know what's out there #but she needs to know why #enjoy y'all #i did not make this obv #love this song though #and this medical doctor #'she's got the shoulder pads' realest line ever written #can you believe they did the 'dog years' thing twice? lmao poor scully #also i missed all the birthday posting yesterday as it has been a real week #but hbd #scully #you magnificent creation you #also how can you be 60 years old when you are 28 years old and so am i

[heymacy]

💛

#hello little stars #i've missed you so #wee update on me: i'm actually doing quite well at the moment #things were a little iffy there for a minute but i'm in a very healthy mental space right now #i feel more like myself than i have in a long time #which is a very welcome thing #unfortunately during the process of obtaining said healthy mental state my shameless hyperfixation abruptly broke into pieces #it isn't that i don't still have love for the show - i do - i just don't feel consumed by it anymore #it doesn't occupy the same space in my brain that it once did #instead that space has been opened up to new interests and ideas and hobbies and yes even the occasional new blorbo #and i will not lie to y'all - it feels good #as to the future of this account i think it's going to become less of a fandom blog and more of a whatever-i-feel-like-posting blog #a scrapbook of my interests where i put stickers of shows and movies i like on the page and scribble my most incoherent thoughts #a personal blog if you will #i'm very grateful for the last three years of my life and all the things + people this show brought to me #but it just isn't IT for me anymore - y'know? #anyway #if you've read this far - i love you #i've missed you #come say hi #i promise i don't bite #also a URL change will probably be coming in the near future so if you're like um who the HELL is that?! it's probably me #blessed be my babies #ily very much

[cerise-on-top]

Hank, Sanford and Deimos with a Reader who does Handcrafts

Gonna post my old MadCom stuff since people seem interested in it! I didn't write too much back then, but I'll post it anyway and hope for some MadCom requests as well! What the title says! Reader knits, crochets and embroiders in this! The format is different from how I usually write, but that's because I wrote this months ago, if not in 2022! I don't remember when, but it's been a while since I wrote this!

Hank

If you get his attention while doing one of your crafts, expect him to just stare at you for a while. He knows what knitting is, since you can use those needles to stab someone with enough force, but he never really cared much for any of it. So, seeing you do those small, but precise movements has him somewhat curious. If you beckon him closer to check out what you’re doing, he will approach you, taking your piece from your hands and gently examining it, before returning it to you.

While he won’t join you that often due to his occupation, Hank will lie down next to you from time to time, watching you work until he falls asleep eventually. Doing so next to you, especially when you’re knitting or doing embroidery, takes a lot of trust on his behalf, so it’s a rather rare occurrence, but it might happen. Still, sometimes even Nevada’s most wanted can’t resist getting some sleep in.

If you give him a scarf or anything of the likes it might seem like he doesn’t like it at first. As he only grunts in acknowledgement and doesn’t wear it, it might seem disheartening at first glance. But rest assured, he’s well aware that him wearing it would only get it covered in blood, and he wouldn’t want your creation, that you put so much love into, to get sullied like that. Hank does keep it somewhere hidden where only he can find it so that it won’t get stolen as well, he truly does treasure anything you give him.

Sanford

He has helped his mother crocheting every once in a while when he was young by holding her wool for her. Sanford always thought it to be really cool how you can make something so beautiful out of something as simple as wool and yarn. Much like he did when he was younger, he’ll hold your yarn for you, making it more comfortable to knit or crochet for you. Unlike Hank and Deimos, he will try to learn it as well. It seems relaxing, so why not? But by no means is he a master. Due to his strength, he will likely rip the yarn and wool apart from time to time and come to you for help.

In order to relax and unwind a bit, he’ll likely come to you and ask if you would like to practise your craft for and with him. Having you around in and of itself already makes Sanford happy, but just getting to spend time with you without having to worry about being killed by the enemy makes it all the better. If you let him, he will hold you close, lean into you, put you on his lap, anything you’re comfortable with.

Please give him a sweater. Because he’s never wearing a shirt he gets cold fairly easily. He’ll cherish it dearly and wear it whenever he can, and whenever he knows it won’t get ripped. Another thing he’d be very happy with would be a piece of embroidery. It reminds him of better times and gives him hope, especially when your piece of art is something pleasant and sweet to look at. Because of that, he will put it up somewhere in his room where he can always see it. Even if Deimos makes fun of him for it, he will simply lightly jab at the smoker, all the while smiling at it.

Deimos

He’ll lovingly call you a grandma for having hobbies like these. Even while doing embroidery, where you stab things thousands of times, he will snicker at you whenever he catches you doing any of these things. Though, he doesn’t mind that sort of thing at all since that means you’ll be sitting still for a while, meaning you’ll give him a chance to unwind with him. Deimos will wrap his arms around you, leaning onto you or just cuddle into you in general. No fighting, no getting hurt, just watching you do the same movements over and over again.

Despite possibly calling you boring, he does have great respect for your craft, since he can’t do any of it. It’s too tedious and he can’t sit around for long enough doing something like this. It’s simply not exciting enough. But the moment you give him his first sweater, he will think it’s the most awesome thing to ever exist. Proud as a peacock, he will flaunt and taunt his new piece of clothing, especially to Sanford and Hank, declaring just what a great lover he has.

Present him with a plushie and his mind will be blown. He always thought knitting and crocheting are just for woolly hats and sweaters and scarves and all. If he sees you made him a tiny grunt, he will simply lose it, run around the Status Quo base and show everyone what you’re capable of. It doesn’t even matter to him whether or not it looks good. Your hands are magical to him and absolutely everyone has to know just how cool and epic you are.

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #hank j wimbleton x reader #sanford x reader #deimos x reader #I miss Madness Combat so much y'all have absolutely no idea #I am foaming at the mouth absolutely feral waiting for episode 12 #I desperately need these funny grunt creatures back in my life #I know I said I'd be playing the OG MW games this weekend but in lieu of me getting back into madcom I might replay M:PN #and rewatch the entire series! I could force my friend to watch it with me again! #it'd be the third time I'd be watching it with someone else #I actually talked nonstop for over an hour about Madness Combat to my ex at one point and he didn't even stop me #I had so many theories about it all that seemed to make sense to me but I since forgot them unfortunately #Also did anyone else see the 2B plushies or was I hallucinating those? Because I can't find them on Makeship... #I actually own the Hank Sanford and Deimos plushies #Only 2B is missing at this point and I want him so so bad I love him #I actually had a White Hank plushie custom made as well because she's my absolutel favorite #oh boy I've been rambling here but it shows just how much I love Madness Combat! Such a good show! Phenomenal music too! #I need to give Sanford a hug after all he's been through :(