#40&Up

[clown-ged]

local shirtless, skirt-wearing transfag practices his juggling in the public park

[2-the-moon-and-2-saturn]

STOP IT i was just ATTACKED with a greys anatomy quote i HATE EVERYTHING

“20 years with the love of your life. that’s gonna be you, at our granddaughter’s wedding.”

“How about you? Won’t you be dancing at your granddaughter’s wedding?”

“Kinda gotta have a partner for that.”

“But if you had a partner, who would it be?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Lexie Grey.”

why are they LIKE THIS i’m CHEWING ON DRYWALL

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

When I lived in Philadelphia I had the most fucked sleep schedule and my sleep scientist roommate told me it would kill me in a way I wouldn't understand (stay up all night sleep from like ten am to four pm) which is honestly terrible but I do miss the delight of staying up all night and watching the sun rise. Being awake when no one else was, at least in my apartment. Doing whatever I wanted in those hours. A person living across from me always woke up at 5am, I could tell because I'd always see their light turn on. That was nice. That was nice.

[indiatrendzs]

Fall Holiday Fashion Trends: The Kaftan and Kimono Dress Revival

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[reasonsforhope]

"Seventh graders at Thurgood Marshall Middle School in Rockford, Illinois are learning about STEM — but they’re also learning about real-world challenges.

The students have taken on a new project: assembling “solar suitcases” to help bring electricity to schools in Uganda’s Bidi Bidi Refugee Settlement, which is home to 270,000 South Sudanese refugees.

It’s an initiative led by We Share Solar, a nonprofit that provides science and technology learning projects for students that then go on to benefit other students in low-income areas of the world. 

The project introduces middle schoolers to fundamental electrical concepts, like positive and negative charges, voltage, amps, and wiring, ultimately producing a 12-volt DC solar power system that will be distributed among the refugee community.

“We’ve learned many things like positives and negatives, amps, volts, all that stuff, and how to wire stuff together,” Pratham Mehta, one of the Thurgood Marshall students, told WIFR News. 

“We’re taking all this stuff for granted, and other countries don’t have all this stuff, like electricity.”

The suitcases will bring electricity to 40 schools in the refugee settlement, which provide education to over 12,000 students. They are designed to be easily transported (thus the suitcase design), which makes them ideal for off-grid locations, like a refugee camp.

The panels in the suitcase collect sunlight and harness the energy in a built-in battery. It can then provide power to up to five light bulbs for 50 to 60 hours a week. Depending on the capacity of the system, it can also help power small electronics like phones or radios.

For people in the Bidi Bidi settlement — one of the largest refugee settlements in the world — this kind of power can make an enormous impact.

In fact, We Share Solar has deployed over 1,000 suitcases to “energy-scarce locations” across the world, with more than 500,000 students and teachers benefitting from the power they provide.

“The We Share Solar education program serves youth twice,” Hal Aronson, co-founder of the organization, said, “first as an educational experience for American youth and second as a renewable power and lighting system for youth in parts of the world that lack electricity.”

Along with connecting students to learning opportunities, the organization ensures each device is tested by a professional to ensure it is built to withstand energy demands. Then, the suitcases are installed by trained partners in destination countries, and students and teachers alike learn about the new clean energy technologies they have implemented.

At the start of the 2024 school year, the We Share Solar program was implemented in 13 Illinois schools, training educators in the curriculum and setting up the project across the state.

“This is just the beginning,” a Facebook post from We Share Solar states. “These passionate teachers will now guide their students in building solar cases, providing a hands-on STEM experience with real-world impact.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 16, 2025

[whoopsyeahokay]

Cuddle Bug

summary: a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. AU - everyone is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍃

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch. No surprise there. The guy needs cuddles like flowers need sunlight to thrive. Always has. Being a ghost for 40 years exacerbated that need, and now that he's a real boy again, he can't help himself. Wally sits too close, hugs hello and goodbye, touches arms and knees when he's telling a story.

It's just that much more amped up when it comes to you.

He was affectionate before you and he became inseparable. Lightly grazed your hand when he walked beside you, found every excuse to tackle you when he tried to teach you football techniques. Ajay and Charley stood there like extra wheels even though it'd been Wally who'd rallied everyone to the field.

What? Your giggle's so damn cute! No way was Wally going to be able to focus on anything else!

Besides Charley's just as bad when Yuri's around, and Simon can't even function when Maddie gives him the eyes. So, everyone can suck it as far as Wally's concerned.

During group activities, Wally would find a way to sit next to you. Would squish his long limbs between you and Maddie and give you a bright, boyish grin. Sometimes he'd stare Xavier down until he got the hint and scooched closer to Nicole at the lunch table, leaving a gap that Wally could settle into beside you. His arm around your shoulders and his knee touching yours. Totally innocent.

Wally brought your favorite snacks to Game Night, established himself as your personal chauffeur despite the fact that you lived closer to Simon and Rhonda, and loyally helped you filter clothes when you and the girls went shopping. Yes. He'd made himself one of the girls just to spend time with you. Don't look at him like that; it worked, didn't it? 👀

Since accepting him as your boyfriend (he grins so big, his cheeks ache), Wally's dependence on your touch, warmth, shape against his, has increased a hundredfold.

You sit on the picnic table before the first bell, chatting to Maddie and Claire about something Wally isn't listening to, his arms around your waist, upper body slumped between your legs, head resting on your thigh as you rake your fingers through his thick hair. Oh, he could die all over again and be the happiest of ghosts just for this. Not that he wants to be a ghost again. Not unless you're with him this time. Which would require you to die, too, and that's a terrible thought and he's never going to tell you about it. But the sentiment remains. Wally doesn't want to do anything without you, ever.

He managed to convince the secretary to put him in all your classes, pouting and pleading his case that he'd been dead since 1983 and, "it's so traumatic coming back, she's the only thing I have that feels real...please?" A tactic that he should stop abusing, but it worked on all the teachers when he requested to be sat next to you. Every time a teacher caved, Wally would fold into the desk beside you, beaming like a winner. And who cares? Mina and Ajay, and Charley and Yuri pulled the same doe-eyed trick and got what they wanted, why couldn't Wally do the same?

On Fridays, everyone piles into Wally's high school best friend's living room—Rodney now Wally's legal guardian for reasons—to have movie marathons. There's trivia to guess the movie. Winner gets one veto and can insert their own choice, but there's three movies in total so pick wisely! They figured out awhile ago that Wally sometimes (always) lets you win trivia when it's his turn to play his lineup. You never veto anything, equally as eager to watch what he opts for. It drives Simon and Ajay insane.

He takes over a whole couch, the three-seater, sprawls long-ways and tucks you between his legs, your body draped over him like a blanket as he wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for anything. He traces patterns on your back, cradles your head against his chest, soaks up the physical contact like a sponge after years of ghostly numbness.

In the school halls, Wally keeps his hand on your hip. He kisses your head and cheeks and jaw. Doesn't care who sees because you're his girl and he'll do what he wants, thank you. He's proud that you call him yours and wants to show off who his heart belongs to. This one! This one said yes!

You're in his lap more than your own seat when the group descends upon Max's Diner after football games (that, no, Wally doesn't participate in. That era is firmly in the past and he'll never don a jersey again; sorry mom, God bless, rest in peace). His hands are all over you as you engage Rhonda in conversation; on your thighs, waist, back, hips. Anywhere and everywhere that's still appropriate in public. His head under your chin, eyes closed as he listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady, the rhythm matching his.

Wally rolls over in his bed, crushes you beneath his weight as he plays dead—knock on wood that that won't happen again for many years—and tries to stifle his laughter when you struggle to reverse the position. Eventually, he showers your skin with kisses, nudges between your thighs and laces his fingers with yours, pressing his smile to yours before kissing you deeply.

The sex is amazing, but nothing beats the afterglow when he has you pliant and sweet, curled into him on your side, your face in his chest, his hand on your lower back, whispering how much he loves you as you doze. Call him codependent, but Wally doesn't want to spend even an hour without you. He isn't a lost puppy, knows how to behave like a man. He just spent too many years being forgotten that he still has trust issues.

And you don't mind. You welcome it, in fact, and that makes Wally feel safer than he ever has. It makes it easy to ignore the looks people give you and him when you agree to go somewhere, "only if Wally's invited, too" because you and he are a package deal. And he does the same for you. Obviously, not for the same reasons, you're perfectly fine being alone, it's just that Wally's not ready to experiment with your absence just yet. Maybe never will be.

Rodney's long since accepted that Wally's room has become your room. From married and childless to married with several formerly-dead teenagers and their SOs, Rodney and his wife have accepted their homebase status like champs. They treat you like family—you have a house key for the rare occasion Wally isn't with you after school—and acknowledge that Wally can't sleep without you without suffering.

He stays curled around you all night, kisses you awake, big hand trailing from your waist to your hip as he nips the top knot of your spine and grinds his morning wood against your ass. God, you get him hard so easily, Wally sometimes thinks he should get checked out. You hum then sigh then turn in his arms, hook a leg over his and press yourself against him in exactly the right way.

Through half-lidded eyes, Wally gazes at you. Licks his lips as he rocks his hips slowly and watches your expression go from sleepsoft to wanting. You like how that feels baby? You want it inside you? And he kisses you deep and thorough, rolls you onto your back to fit between your legs, groans when one of your hands squeezes his ass through his boxer-briefs.

He needs to be inside you yesterday, loves how you feel, tight and wet and hot around him. Soft touches turn hard, light sweeps of lips turn to teeth and tongue and fresh bruises on your neck. Wally loves to taste you first, to prolong his pleasure by giving you yours, his tongue delving into you and sucking your clit gently; deliriously slow because he can't get enough.

It's not until you're begging him so pretty for his cock that he finally lets himself fuck into you, so hard and sensitive his brain explodes upon fitting deep inside you on the first thrust. A refrain of fuck, yes and oh God baby, you feel so good fills the room—sorry Rodney—the headboard smacking against the wall in time with Wally's hips. Throughout, Wally holds you like something precious, kisses you like salvation, breathes you in like he can't live without you.

He makes sure you come first before he even thinks about letting go, the sensation of you shaking apart around him ripping his own release right from his core. Wally licks into your mouth, moans like a beast, and then, one two three more stunted thrusts and he goes still. Hazy eyes hold yours and you can see the depth of his emotion for you. At least, he hopes so. How he'll treasure you forever. He'll never love anyone as much as he loves you. That's a promise and a threat and he smiles a lazy smile at you as you begin to giggle.

"What's so funny, baby?" Wally nudges your cheek with his nose.

"Nothing, I promise, I'm just...really happy." You tell him and he moans in delight.

"You don't feel suffocated or claustrophobic like Rhonda said you would?" Wally asks, a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, even if he doesn't usually feel that way about how reliant he is on your proximity. You've never given him a reason to feel anything but safe and happy and loved, but still. Rhonda knows how to hit bone even when she means well.

You shift, forcing Wally to look at you, your hands cradling his jaw, "Never. I will never, ever want this, us, to be anything but exactly how it is. I love having you all over me."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." And you grin, a warm little thing, "I like sharing everything with you. It's nice. My very own witness to my life."

Wally kisses you again, another slow, deep, sentimental gesture; everything he feels poured into it, before he settles down on top of you, careful not to crush you, his head above your breasts and his eyes fluttering closed. Relaxed. Sated. Safe.

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch, and, in this second chance at life, he's profoundly grateful to have found someone fluent in it.

🍃___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

if you liked this, you may also enjoy Fifty Seven.

fluff. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you.

[itsonlyjoseph]

Make Me Bleed || Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N wants to find a way to thank Eddie

Warnings: some angst

Word count: 4.3k

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Part 1

You had been trying to wrap your head around the interaction with Eddie all day, the next day. You hadn’t yet listened to the Walkman Eddie gave you or the tape he left with it.

You wanted to, but you were nervous. Nervous for what exactly, you weren’t sure. But nervous nonetheless. At school, you had planned to leave a note in Eddie’s locker, asking to speak privately with him. You were going to say thank you for replacing your Walkman but that you needed to know why he hated you so much. But he wasn’t at school. Again.

You wanted to ask Eddie’s friends but they were even scarier than he was so that was out of the question.

You decided to cut your losses and just forget out it until you saw him.

Later that day, after school, you were laying on her bed, curled up like a fetus with your headphones over your ears and Eddie’s Walkman sitting next to you.

You were listening to the tape he gave you as well.

It definitely wasn’t your kind of music, but in a weird you kind of liked it. Kind of like Eddie. He was the same. You just couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

By the time Saturday came around, you hadn’t seen Eddie in a few days.

You knew that he played guitar in a heavy metal band because gossip flew around the school like crazy, plus you’d seen him carrying a guitar case out of the Hideout once.

You were probably way out of line but you decided to best course of action was to go watch him play tonight and then hope to speak to him afterwards. It was probably a bad idea for many reasons. You had no idea if Eddie would even give you the time of day and the bar was pretty sketchy on a good day.

It almost 9 pm when you decided to get ready and cycle over. You didn’t really dress up. This was just meant to be a conversation and a quick thank you for the Walkman. Nothing else.

You’d arrived at bar almost 40 minutes later. The street was dark and dungy and there were some questionable people around. Most older, tatted biker dudes and a plenty of old groupies that would have been beautiful 25 years ago.

Walking in, the air was stale and smokey, making it hard to see and navigate around. The bar was decently packed as well. After all, the Hideout was the only bar in town that allowed all kinds of people in. It definitely didn’t discriminate the way some of the nicer cocktail bars in town did.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. It was obvious you didn’t belong here and it was obvious that your anxiety levels were through the roof.

You saw the stage. It was small and covered in carpet and had a lonely drum set and amps and guitar stands but no band members. You had no idea if Eddie even played on Saturdays but you figured you’d take your chances since the last time you saw him outside the bar, was a Saturday.

You excused yourself to no one in particular and tried to find the bathroom to freshen up and try to loosen your mind.

It was covered in graffiti and stickers and the mirrors were cracked but it offered some muffled silence. Looking in the mirror, your anxiety’s were sky rocketing. You didn’t dress like the people here or do your hair and makeup like them. You looked like a sheep amongst wolves, and it felt like they were waiting to tear you apart.

Walking back out into the main bar area, you decided to just go home. You’d never felt more out of place and suddenly your plan was sounding more and more stupid.

As you walked out towards the front door, you noticed that the band was making their way onto the stage. Eddie’s curly hair caught your eye and you stopped in your tracks. He wasn’t smiling or anything but he seemed for relaxed that usual. He seemed at peace.

The band started playing and Eddie lost himself in the music. And he was good. Very good. He was so good that he probably could’ve been a professional or famous.

They played several more songs as the night wore on and granted, it wasn’t your kind of music but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his arms glistened with sweat.

It was making you question why you came here.

It almost 2 am when they finish up their set. You didn’t realise just how much time had passed until you looked at your wristwatch. The crowd cheered as the band members made their way off the stage.

Now that the prospect of talking to Eddie was getting closer, you decided to test your luck at bar and order a shot just to calm yourself. You hadn’t really ever had alcohol besides a few sips of your dad’s beer and half a wine at Christmas.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked. He could probably tell you were underage just from your body language but something told you this wasn’t the establishment that cared too much.

“Uh, just a shot of… uh..” you tried to squint your eyes at the shelf behind him. “Uh, that one.” You said pointing to a miscellaneous bottle of clear liquid.

The bartender chuckled humourlessly before grabbing the bottle and pouring a shot to place in front of you.

“Here, first one’s on the house.”

“Oh, well then I want another.” You said, quickly downing the shot. It burned more than you thought it would and tasted terrible.

You slapped a five dollar bill on the bar and downed the second shot. That one burned even more than the first one.

Considering you’d never really had alcohol before, definitely not like that, you felt a little dizzy. And hot. This wasn’t a nice feeling and why people actually did this for fun, you didn’t understand.

You saw Eddie’s mop of hair walked over to him. He was turned to you, chatting to someone with a beer in his hand when you tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned, ready to tell whoever to fuck off. He didn’t expect to turn around and see you standing before him.

“Y/N?” Eddie muttered, confused to see you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Eddie’s large hand gripped around your elbow and yanked you into the hallway that lead to the bathroom. It was significantly quieter with far less people.

“What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t the kind of place you should be.” He said, clearly frustrated.

“Uh, I wanted to see you.” You mumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie paused for a moment.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I wanted to speak to you. I-I didn’t really get a chance to say thank you for apologising and for-for the Walkman.”

“Yeah, well you just did so leave.” He huffed.

“Why did you? You didn’t have to give that to me. I was gonna save up for a new one.”

It almost seemed like Eddie didn’t know what to say. Like he didn’t know the answer himself.

“Thank you, though.” You said. You figured Eddie wouldn’t say anything else.

“That’s the only reason you came here?” He asked and you nodded.

“Uh, I guess I’ll go now. You played really great. I recognised some songs from that tape you gave me.”

As you turned to leave, Eddie called out to you one more time.

“You don’t have a car.” He said to which you simply shook your head. “So you rode that bike here?”

You said nothing.

“You can’t ride your bike home at this hour. Especially not in this part of town.”

You hadn’t thought about that but he was right. Biking home after work was scary enough, let alone at almost 3 am.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be okay. I can’t really call my dad. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s okay Eddie, you should stay with your friends.”

“No, I’ll drive you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

What Eddie had said made your tummy drop. You didn’t really know if he meant here or just in general but you chose not to question it.

You followed Eddie out to the parking lot. It was still warm enough and there was a light breeze in the air.

Eddie drove a van, you knew that much.

“Wait, I thought your uncle said you lost your license again?”

“Like that’s ever stopped me.” Eddie mumbled, opening the passenger door for you.

Once you were sat in the van, Eddie stopped and looked at you. “Listen, just stay here for a sec. I need to get my guitar and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled softly. He didn’t return it.

Eddie walked off, back inside the bar and you sat back, taking a breath.

The alcohol was wearing off and the fatigue was setting in. You never stay up this late and felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier until you drifted off into a relaxing slumber.

Eddie returned moments later and loaded his guitar into the back of the van, making his way into the drivers seat.

“Okay, so where do you li-“ Eddie began to say but stopped himself when he saw your eyes closed and your lashes gently resting against your cheeks. Gentle snores were coming from your mouth and Eddie couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

He didn’t have enough gas to just drive around until you woke up and he didn’t want to sleep in the van so he did the only thing he could think of.

He took you to his place.

He wasn’t sure how you’d react when you woke up in the morning but he’d try his best to not scare you off.

It wasn’t long until he pulled up to the trailer park, parking next to Wayne’s truck.

Eddie opened the passenger door and took a deep breath, hoping you could chew him out later. He unclipped your seatbelt and picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the steps and into the unlocked trailer.

Wayne was inside, snoozing on the couch. He didn’t work weekends and took that as an opportunity to actually sleep at nighttime.

Eddie carried you down the hallway and into his bedroom, careful not to hit your head on the door frame, and gently placed you down on his unmade bed.

You unconsciously curled up into the pillow as your mouth fell open, those gentle snores coming back. Eddie looked down at you and sighed. He really was sorry for all the things he’s said to over the years. He probably didn’t mean them. Or maybe he did and he’s just a terrible person. It wouldn’t surprise him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

Eddie knew that it wouldn’t be right to sleep in the bed next to you, especially without your knowledge, so he wondered over to his desk and sat down. He probably would’ve slept on the couch if Wayne wasn’t out there. Eddie felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier until he laid his head down on the desk and drifted off to sleep. Luckily for him, it wasn’t the comfiest sleeping position so he was tossing and turning all night, meaning he woke up before you when the sun was out.

He lifted his head with a groan, his neck feeling much tighter than the night before.

Eddie turned and looked over at you, laying in his bed sound asleep. You looked so peaceful and calm to him. His mind once again went to all the nasty things he’s ever said and done to you over the years.

He got from his desk and left the bedroom. Wayne was up when Eddie got into the kitchen. Making a cup of coffee, ready to head out to the porch for his morning cigarette.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wayne mused when he saw the tired, stiff look on Eddie’s face.

“Didn’t sleep good.” He mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because my bed is occupied.” He deadpanned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Wayne stopped what he was doing and turned slightly to look at the back of Eddie’s head.

“By who?”

“Just a girl from school.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he turned fully to face Eddie. Eddie has never mentioned a girl before and has never even mentioned being interested in one.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Eddie huffed, angrily.

Wayne put his hands up in mock surrender at Eddie’s abrasiveness. “Okay, okay, just make sure you’re being safe.”

“It’s not like that!” Eddie raised his voice. Wayne knew Eddie had a bit of an anger problem. He inherited that from his father. He also knew that Eddie had trouble expressing his emotions.

“Then… what’s it like?” Wayne pressed, curious.

“It’s like… I don’t know! It’s not like anything!”

“Okay, Eddie.” Wayne said, walking to the front door as Eddie went back to his bedroom.

Sometime during the night, Eddie managed to remove his shirt. The trailer was always so hot at night that it was almost impossible to sleep in clothes unless it was winter time.

He didn’t have the heart to wake you up just yet, enjoying this foreign feeling of peace for the moment. He opened up his window and sat under it, at the end of the bed. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette and felt the breeze from outside float through his hair.

Eddie was half way through his cigarette when you began to stir in your sleep. He looked over and saw your eyes opening gently. And he got nervous. Would you yell at him for bringing you here?

“What time is it?” Your gentle sleep filled voice the room, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Uh, around 7.”

“I guess I fell asleep before you could take me home.” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t wanna’ wake you.” Eddie stubbed out his cigarette.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I bombarded you at your hang out spot and then took up the rest of your night.” You muttered.

“It’s okay.”

“You seemed… mad that I was there.”

“I just didn’t expect to see you in a place like that.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie huffed, as if the laugh humourlessly. “Full of bad people, though.” Eddie looked up at you and suddenly liked the way you looked sitting in his bed with messy hair and sleep in your eyes. “Why do you think I’m there?” He tried to joke. Key word being tried.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Eddie.” You said softly.

“You’d be the first.” He mumbled so quietly you barely even heard it.

You moved out of the bed to sit on top of the covers, only a few feet of space between you and Eddie.

“Actually, there was another reason I came to see you last night.”

Eddie looked up from his hands when you moved closer.

“I wanted to ask you… why don’t you like me? What did I do?” You asked and Eddie saw the saddest in your eyes.

Eddie let out a shallow breath and looked down at his hands again.

“I don’t know.” He said softly.

You gulped and felt a pit in your stomach at that.

“Oh, um… did I do anything?”

“You’re happy… have a good dad.” Eddie was ashamed but he didn’t want to lie.

“Ya know Eddie, despite what Principle Higgins said to you, that doesn’t have to be your life. You could do anything.”

“Yeah like what?” Eddie spoke at a normal volume this time, his voice holding a frustrated edge. “Go off and be a doctor or a lawyer and marry some girl from the right side of town, have a bunch kids with a white picket fence? Huh?” Eddie was getting angrier now. He’d rose off the bed and was standing now. “You think there’s anything in the cards for me that’s not prison or something very similar?”

As Eddie paced around his bedroom, spitting out horrible things about himself, you suddenly realised why Eddie was the way he was. He was scared. He was scared because he knew what his life would be. He knew that his fathers influenced affected him. He needed someone to tell him that he wasn’t his father. He didn’t someone to care about.

“Ugh!” Eddie huffed and growled, frustrated. He drug his palms into his eyes and gripped the hair at his hairline.

You got up from the bed and walked over the Eddie, gripping his wrists gently and pulling them from his eyes. He flinched slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t know how your life is gonna turn out. It doesn’t have to be like that.” You said softly as you looked up at him.

Eddie stared down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. His expression was once again unreadable but he didn’t try to remove his wrists from your hands. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, not knowing what to say so he just kept staring at you.

Suddenly, a gentle knock came, breaking you both out of each others gaze.

“Eddie, I’m g- oh Y/N, hi.” Wayne said, opening the Eddie’s bedroom door. Look on his face showed that he was confused by the situation.

“Hi Wayne.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Uh, I’m heading into town so I’ll be back later. Do you two need anything?” Wayne asked. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. He figured his nephew was probably gonna start dating or hooking up with people soon if not already. He was a teenager after all. With Eddie’s personality and attitude, Wayne was nervous that the first girl he picked up would be some easy bimbo that would wind up pregnant and he’d be a teen dad, so when Wayne saw that it was you standing in Eddie bedroom with him, he was elated.

“Okay.” Eddie answered him, his face hard.

“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” Wayne nodded at you, closing the door.

“Listen, Y/N, you don’t have to waste your breath on me. I know what’s gonna happen to me and so do you. Just drop it.” Eddie moved to sit on the edge of the bed, finally breaking away from your grip. “Besides, girls like you shouldn’t hang around with guys like me.”

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t believe it, Eddie. I really believe you can do anything.” You said, sitting beside him on the bed. You were closer than you’d ever been.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do.” You reaffirmed as you took his hand. Eddie had never really felt his close to someone before. It made his spine tingle. The physical contact, plus the words of affirmation made him feel things he didn’t like. “You deserve everything.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Eddie mumbled, looking right at you.

Tingles ran down your spine at his words. You were confused. You thought he didn’t like you.

“Do you-do you want me?” You were scared of the answer but wanted to know so badly.

Eddie huffed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Before you could respond or even process what he has said, Eddie stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll get your bike out of my van.”

Once you were alone, you breathed deeper than you has all morning. You wanted to know what Eddie meant but you didn’t want to push him or annoy him.

You walked out of Eddie’s trailer to see your bike leaning against the steps and Eddie’s van gone, him nowhere in sight.

You cycled home and felt conflicted. What did Eddie mean? Did he hate you or not? Did he want you like that? Did you want him like that?

When you got home, your dad was out in the garage, working on his car. You ditched your bike near the garage door and walked up to him.

“Hey dad, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Oh, hi pet. Where were you last night?” You dad said as he looked up.

“With a friend.” You offered.

“Oh, okay. I’m just trying to fix this damn timing belt.” He chuckled.

You gulped. “Dad, can I ask you something.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked without looking away from the cars engine.

“It’s about a boy.” You mumbled. That made your dad look up.

“What about it?”

“Well, this guy at school. Everyone seems to think he’s a bad person and honestly, I kind of did to for a while but lately I’ve seen a different side to him. I know he’s a good person, he’s just trouble and didn’t have a great upbringing. How am I supposed to make him see that he’s not the loser he thinks he is?”

“Hm. That’s a lot to take in. Why is this boy so important? Maybe he really is a loser.”

“He’s not. He’s actually really talented and I can tell that there’s more to him than he shows people. I think he just needs someone to depend on.”

“Who is this boy, anyway?” Your dad asked.

“Uh, It’s Eddie Munson.”

Your father looked at you with a worried look on his face.

“Petal, I don’t think I like the idea of you hanging around that Munson boy. I knew his father-“

“But that’s the thing, dad” you cut him off. “I know that Eddie’s nothing like his dad. People have told him that he’d be nothing, just like his dad his whole life and I know that it’s not true.”

Your dad took in your words and thought for a moment. It’s true that he knew Eddie’s dad back in high school and saw what a trouble maker he was and the petty criminal he turned out to be. But he also knew that you didn’t chose where you came from and that you were a smart girl.

“Okay, sweetie. If you think so. I know you’ll make the right choice

“I hope so”

“All you can do is be there for him. Show him you won’t leave and show him that he matters.”

“Thanks dad.”

“You’re a kid, Y/N. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you as my dad.” You smiled up at him.

“Get outta’ here.” He chucked.

You smiled and ran upstairs to your room. You wanted to go and find Eddie and tell him that you’d be there for him and that he deserved happiness as much as anyone else but you had no idea where he went and you didn’t have his number.

Tomorrow was Monday and Monday meant school. You hoped that Eddie would be there so you talk to him again.

That night you went to sleep with a heavy heart and your tummy in knots and in the morning you spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. You brushed out your hair and applied your makeup and picked your outfit just a little bit more careful than usual.

At school, the hallway was crowded as you hung around Eddie’s locker. You didn’t actually know if he went to it often or not but this was your only option right now. When the hallways emptied after the final bell, you made your way over.

Last night, you had written a note to slip into Eddie’s locker.

‘Eddie, meet me at the picnic table in the woods after school - Y/N’

6 and half hours later, you were sat in the woods, alone, hoping that Eddie would show up.

Your palms were sweating and your knee was bouncing. You kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You hadn’t really thought about what you would say if Eddie showed up.

“Hey.” You heard a low grumbled behind you.

You turned quietly to be met with Eddie’s hard face.

He slowly walked over to the other side of the table and sat down, dumping his jacket on the old wood.

“Why’d you call me out here?” He asked.

“I wanted to talk. Talk about what you said yesterday in your room.”

“Y/N, just forget about it-“

“I like it when you say my name.” You cut him off, looking down.

Eddie didn’t really know how to respond to that. All of yesterday afternoon, his thoughts were plagued with you. The way you were so kind to after he’d been awful to you. You way your hand felt over his. The way his spine tingled when he remembered Wayne called you his girlfriend. He’d never felt like this before.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really did mean it when I said you can do anything.” You smiled.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked.

“Because I can see that you’re a good person under that hard shell. And I want you to know that I… I guess I care.”

“You care about me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

You took a deep breath and rose from the bench, walking around and sitting down besides Eddie.

“When you said you didn’t deserve me, what did you mean?” You whispered.

“Y/N..”

“Please tell me.”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. No matter how much I want to be near you, I can’t.” He whispered back.

“You won’t drag me down, Eddie.”

“I drag everyone down, Y/N.”

“I’m not everyone.”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought as he stared into your eyes. He’d seen plenty of attractive women in his time. At school, at The Hideout, on the street. None of them looked back at him the way you were right now.

“Eddie…” you whispered, scooting closer. “Kiss me.”

[slut4megantheestallion]

2AM

Duke dennis x black!reader

Summary: y/n being a streamer and being a part of a amp like her boyfriend duke, until in her stream she tries to do a cartwheel but her boyfriends pop up and starts laughing at her failed attempt, which became roasting to affectionate love.

You've been a part of amp for quite some time now. When you were younger, you always wanted to be a social media star, but people alas told you that your not gonna make it, but that didn't stop you from where you are today until you met kai, fanum, agent, Chris, duke, and Daviss and together you guys became one of the most popular YouTube group. And you love all of them like they were your own family.

Yeah, being the only girl in the group is kinda hard because there's niggas on the internet trolling, but you didn't give a fuck before they accepted you anyway, the more you got comfortable will all of them the more you loved all of them. You have a crush on Duke. You both were pretty close, and y'all both became best friends, and everyone in the group thought y'all was dating even if your fans thought y'all was dating, but it wasn't true.

You hide your feelings because you thought Duke would reject you or didn't like you until he made the first move and your relationship started from there. Y'all both were lucky to have each other, y'all would both come to each other streams, pranks, and all of that other stuff.

Your love language with him is roasting. People make it seem like y'all mean, but it ain't true both you just be joking with each other.

You were streaming playing a horror game, you was tired as fuck, but you wanted to finish playing the game.

"Bruh, chat, I'm not gonna lie,I'm tired as fuck I've been playing this game for an hour, I've been trying to stay awake for y'all." Y/n said tiredly as she picked up her water drinking it as she looked at the chat.

"Bro, somebody in the chat told me to do a cartwheel to stay awake." Y/n laughed as she pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Yo chat, I ain't gonna lowkey don't know how to do a cartwheel, like I'm being so deadass, I'm not an athletic person, hold on imma try for you guys." Y/n stands up as she pushes her chair farther away so she can have some room.

"Bro, I'm scared. What if I bust my ass!!" Y/n yelled as she looked back at the chat. Y/n raised both her hands as she placed both of them on the ground, trying to kick her legs up, but ended up falling on the ground.

"Shit, hold on chat. Let me try again, damn this shit is harder than I thought." Y/n got herself up as she tried to do another cartwheel. Y/n puts both her hands on the ground. As she tried to kick her legs up, she heard her door open.

"Aye, bae do you got my charg-" Duke was about to finish his sentence as he saw you trying to cartwheel he started busting out laughing, making you laugh as you got up.

"It's not funny, nigga. I'm trying to do a cartwheel. " y/n laughed, feeling embarrassed as Duke started laughing.

"Nah, that gotta be one of the worst cartwheels I've seen bruh, you don't know how to do a cartwheel?" Duke said, still laughing, making fun of you.

"Shut the fuck up, nigga can you do a cartwheel?" Y/n said asking him as she was huffing and puffing form those failed attempt cartwheel.

"Yes, way much better than that, bro. Imagine not lifting yourself up." Duke said, laughing at you.

"Nigga, I know you talking you pushing 40 and you was in the back of the bus with rosa parks, with yo old ass." Y/n commented as she started laughing as the people in the chat start making fun of Duke going crazy.

"Oh, so that's how you gonna do me, for real." Duke said, smiling in disbelief as you roasted him.

"Yes, imma do you like, ayo chat spam 1987 in the chat, that's the year you was born at with you old ass." Y/n started laughing as everyone in the chart started spamming 1987 in the chat.

"Yeah, I got you on mute. You were serving in ww2 with yo old ass. " You still kept roasting as you both were facing each other as Duke started smiling at the smile that you melt.

Duke wasn't listening to anything you were saying while you were still roasting him. He was looking at your lips as he grabbed your waist and started kissing you. You were caught off guard by this, but you kissed him back. You broke this kiss as he looked back at you. "You so gorgeous, bae." Duke smiled at you as was still holding you close, as he was still holding your waist. "Aww, thank you, bae. I would say something nice about you, but you were making fun of me." Y/n teased.

"Damn, that's fair, I love you y/n" Duke said, genuinely looking at you with so much love in his eyes.

"I love you too," y/n responded as she kissed him on the lips. As Duke lifted your legs up, carrying you as laughed, he was yours, and you were his.

[steddieasitgoes]

he can't sit with us (or maybe he can?)

written for @steddie-week Day 4 prompt: Trade Rating: T | wc: 2651 | no cw thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for beta-ing this one for me!! Read on ao3

Eddie is amped up. 

Lunch has always been his favorite part of the school day, but today is going to be an especially good one. Not because of his lunch — he forgot to grab the sandwich he made last night so he wouldn’t forget, and he’s been out of lunch credit for weeks now, so he’s shit out of luck on that front — but because today’s the day he unleashes his latest rant on the hivemind that is the Hawkins High student body. 

It’s taken him weeks to work out everything he wants to say about the giant mall they’re building a few blocks from Main Street that everyone and their workaholic fathers are excited about. The one that led to the demolishment of Hawkins' second-best trailer park — Forest Hills being the best, obviously. He even asked Wayne’s advice on what he should say since his uncle has way more experience going against The Man™ and The Man’s™ People. 

He’s pretty proud of what he’s come up with. Sure, it’s a typical Munson rant that goes on a personal tangent in the middle about how Sam Goody and Tape World are probably going to put Jet’s Jams out of music. And okay, yeah, Jet’s Jams is the fucking worst most of the time and only ever has the top 40s bullshit in stock, but at least Eddie has some pull with good ole’ Jet and can bargain with the dude to order a metal record or two every once in a while. You think Sam Goody is going to take his advice? Not a chance in hell!

But then he’ll get back on track and get into the educational stuff that Wayne talked to him about. At least, that’s the plan; all he has to do is stick to the bullet point list he scribbled out in Ms. O’Donnell’s class thirty minutes ago, ignoring whatever the fuck she was going on about at the front of the room. 

It’s going to be great. Definitely one of his best lunchtime soapbox speeches. Hell, maybe this will be the one to actually wake some of his peers up. Capitalism is the real devil here. Not him. 

He’s bouncing with adrenaline and nerves as he saunters into the crowded cafeteria, ready for his moment, ready for—

What the hell? 

Eddie stops midstride when he spots Gareth and Jeff waving at him from a table in the middle of the room. Again, what the hell? That’s not their table. Not even fucking close. 

Eddie doesn’t believe in the social hierarchy of high school cliques, but he does respect the lunch table distribution system Hawkins’ operates under. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that tables in the middle are destined for the so-called elite. Not his Dungeons & Dragons club and the other lost sheep stragglers he’s accumulated over his extended high school career.  

They’re supposed to be sitting at a table on the outskirts of the room. The one by the windows, with the art kids to his right and the drama kids to his left. The weirdo, outcast corner. 

And yet, there they are in the middle of the room at a table usually occupied by the so-called elites and anyone else they’ve deemed worthy of their company. 

“This isn’t our table,” Eddie says, slamming his hands down with enough force to knock Gareth’s brown paper bag over, taking his unopened Dr. Pepper can with it. 

Gareth scowls, righting the can. “Now I see why you’re a super senior. Of course, it’s not our fucking table!” 

Eddie intertwines his fingers before pillowing his chin against them. “Okay then, Gareth the Great, tell me why we are sitting here.” 

“Our table is occupied,” Jeff supplies. 

“Occupied? Everyone knows that’s our table! Is this person new? Have they recently had a lobotomy?” 

This time, it’s Freak who speaks up. “No. He knows. He probably just doesn’t give a shit. A table’s a table or whatever.” 

Or whatever? Fat chance. A table hasn’t ever been just a table in the hellscape that is Hawkins High. Still, Eddie can’t help but be curious. There aren’t many people who would willingly sit at a new table this late into the school year. It’s a ballsy move.

He figures it’s a scorned drama kid or drumline member — there’s always drama in those groups; someone is always fucking someone they shouldn’t be, horny assholes. But when he turns to get a glance at this intruder, it’s not a butthurt outcast taking up court at the table, but rather Hawkins' very own Fallen King, Steve Harrington. 

For the third time, what the hell? 

“Did you tell him it’s our table?” 

“No! He’s Steve Harrington! I don’t think he’ll appreciate a couple of nerds telling him to move.” 

“And we value our lives too much to mess with upperclassmen,” Gareth says, mumbling something about learning his lesson the last time he tried something stupid like that. 

Eddie rolls his eyes before scoffing loud enough to startle the nearby table of cheerleaders. He wiggles his fingers in an innocent wave before focusing his attention back on his friends. 

“Please, Steve is all bark and no bite. And he hasn’t been Steve Harrington in a while.” Eddie raises his voice several octaves, batting his eyelashes as he says Steve’s name. “Now he’s just Steve Harrington,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with a nonchalance he never would have expected to use for someone of Steve’s former status. “He’s just some guy whose girlfriend dumped him for an artsy loner.” 

“It doesn’t matter, man! You don’t mess with people like Harrington,” Jeff says, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just like a one-time thing or something. It’s not like any of his friends are sitting with him. Maybe he’s just fighting with them.” 

Jeff has a point. Steve is alone. Sitting at the table all be himself, poking disinterestedly at an apple sauce cup. He’s not cowering or trying to make himself smaller like most people would do if they were stuck eating lunch alone, but he’s not making a show of it either. He’s just there. Minding his own business, staring out the windows Eddie has spent all five years of his high school career looking out off. 

“Those sounds like quitting words, Jefferson,” Eddie taunts, turning his attention back to the group. He makes a show of looking each and every Hellfire member in the eyes when he speaks again. “Are we quitters?” 

The entire table groans, a few shake their heads. Gareth, always the brave one, throws a chip at Eddie’s head that he manages to catch in his mouth. And people say he’s not athletic! 

“Since we’re not quitters, what should we do about this unlawful infiltration?” 

“I don’t know if it's an infiltration,” Freak says. “We just like traded tables without a verbal agreement.” 

“That’s worse than a seize!” 

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one that’s all fired up about it. Why don’t you go over there and ask Harrington to give it back to us.” 

“You know what,” Eddie says, pushing off the table until he’s standing. “I will.” 

With the same gravitas he entered the cafeteria with, Eddie saunters over to Steve. The sooner he gets this table thing handled, the sooner he can get on with his lunchtime diatribe — see Mr. Vance, I do listen in English class, old bat.

Eddie’s not a quiet walker by any means — he’s had enough pillows thrown at his head from Wayne for the way he stomps around the trailer in the mornings — but he manages to sneak up on Steve. Maybe it’s because his eyes are trained on a squirrel running up a tree in the distance, mumbling encouragements as the poor thing struggles to make it up. 

Huh, Harrington’s a squirrel fan? Who knew? 

Eddie’s watch chirps, a reminder that there are only ten minutes left of lunch. Jesus H. Christ! He’ll have to do an abridged version of his speech now, but it should still be enough to get his point across. That is if he manages to get Steve to trade tables with them without a fight. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Steve,” Eddie says, loud enough to startle Steve out of the squirrel watching. “What brings you to my humble abode?” 

Steve glances up at him with a look of disinterest he seems to have perfected in his fall from grace. And honestly, as much as Eddie hates to admit it and would never say it out loud unless he was being waterboarded or some shit, this new version of Steve really works for him. 

“Your humble what?” Steve asks, dropping his disinterest to look up confused instead. 

His brows pull together, scrunching up his forehead in a way that should be unflattering but is honestly sort of endearing. And his head is tilted to the side like a confused animal — something Eddie has a lot of experience with, given his unofficial status as a trailer park animal rescuer. Eddie’s so lost in studying Steve’s confusion that he forgets to actually respond, which like, is new territory for Eddie. He’s never one not to talk. 

“Look, man, I don’t know what you want, but could you just spit it out so I can go back to enjoying my lunch?”

Eddie’s personality returns to his body in an instant. “Enjoying your lunch, you say?” He takes a second to glance at Steve’s lunch tray. A measly bite has been taken out of the cardboard the school passes off as pizza. The side of congealed mac and cheese sits untouch and his apple sauce cup is open but still perfectly intact. “Doesn’t look like you ate at all, Steve.” 

“Seriously, Munson, what do you want?” 

Eddie tsks and yanks the seat next to Steve away from the table before not-so-gracefully falling into it. He kicks his feet up on the table a moment later, the toe of his boot knocking against the carton of milk he’s willing to bet Steve also hasn’t touched. Though he can’t really blame him for that one. Milk is not a lunchtime beverage, and no amount of dairy propaganda is ever going to change that. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Harrington, this is my table.” 

“I didn’t know the cafeteria had assigned seats.” 

“Bullshit, you didn’t,” Eddie growls, throwing his hands up in the air. The move forces him to lose his balance, chair wobbling on two legs under him, threatening to give out and dump him on his ass. Definitely not the lunchtime show he was hoping to give today. But before he meets his demise, Steve extends his hand, steadying the chair long enough for Eddie to drop his feet and reclaim his balance. “Thanks.” 

Steve grunts in response and goes back to staring out the window. 

Fucking squirrel. 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie says, getting straight to the point this time. “I don’t know why you decided to switch tables today or why you decided my table was the one you suddenly wanted, but can we please just switch back?” 

“I’m good here.” 

He tears his eyes away from the window for long enough to glance at his former table, where Gareth and Jeff are using straws as lightsabers without a care in the world. Steve snorts, and Eddie stiffens; he really, really doesn’t want to have to fight anyone today, but if Steve’s willing to be a dick about his friends in front of his face, well, fight, he will. But then Steve’s face softens, and he shakes his head in amusement. 

“Looks like your friends are good where they’re at, too. Though the lightsaber skills could use some work,” Steve teases. “Are we good then?”

“No, we’re not good!” Eddie shouts, trying his best to keep his brain on task. We’re here to get our table back, not ponder why Steve Harrington suddenly has a soft spot for nerds because what? “That’s your table, man, and this is ours. You’re going to upset the fragile balance of this place.” 

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me or something? I thought upsetting the balance was your life goal.” 

How dare Steve Harrington read him like that.

Since his dramatics haven’t worked, Eddie opts for the truth this time. “I have no interest in sitting in the middle of the damn cafeteria where everyone can see me and my friends just to cause a little societal unrest.” 

“And I have no interest in being forced to sit in the middle so everyone can stare at me while judging me and my mistakes.” 

Oh. 

The truth shouldn’t be all that shocking. Anyone who has eyes has witnessed Steve’s fall from King too well; Eddie’s not sure there is a word for what Steve is now. He’s not a pariah or an outcast, not smart enough to be a nerd, and the rumor is he quit basketball, so he’s not a jock. He’s just… lost? 

Steve groans, running a hand over his face for a second before his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” 

“Uh, sure?” 

“Look, Eddie, I’m not going to trade tables with you, but if this one means that much to you, I don’t mind sharing.” 

“I thought you said you don’t want people staring at you?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Okay, well, sitting with the Freaks of Hawkins is definitely going to get people staring and talking, and honestly, you might even have to dodge a punch or two just for being in our vicinity.” 

“I’ll survive.” 

For the first time in his life, Eddie has no idea what to say. On one hand the idea of sharing a table is so preposterous he’s convinced he might be dreaming right now. But after a quick pinch to confirm that he is awake, he goes back to weighing his options. Sharing a table with Steve isn’t ideal, but sitting in the middle of the fucking cafeteria is a death sentence. He might be able to hold his own with the upper echelon of Hawkins High, but his ragtag group of friends isn’t so scrappy. 

And then there’s the lost sheep of it all. 

Eddie’s spent most of his high school career looking after lonely high schoolers. Whisking them under his wing, giving them a safe space to eat lunch or a club to hang out at after school to avoid having to walk back home alone. He thought he’d become somewhat of an expert at it, but it seems Steve Harrington has managed to slip through his cracks. 

Eddie would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he didn’t at least try with Steve. It’s not like he has to join Hellfire or anything. All he’s really asking for his a spot at their lunch table. 

“I have one condition.” 

“Of course you do,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

“Actually, I have two.” Steve chuckles and motions for Eddie to get on with it already. “One, you can’t make fun of anything that happens at the table. We’re weird. You know it, we know it. We’re allowed to tease each other about it. You are not.” 

“I wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.” 

Eddie nods. “And two, you have to give me your dessert every day.” 

“Every day?” Steve balks. “You can have my applesauce and pudding cups, but I’m not giving you Friday’s chocolate cake.” 

“Guess you’re going to have to go back to sitting at the fishbowl table then.” 

Eddie watches as Steve considers this for a moment before his shoulders heave the world’s biggest sigh. “Fine.” 

Without warning, Eddie pushes away from the table, the legs of the chair screeching against the linoleum. His lips twitch at the corners, pulling into a genuine smile as he stands and offers Steve his hand. “Welcome to the Freak table, Steve.” 

[sparklyskies0]

CHAPTER ONE

❛ soundcheck & stupid idiots ❜

✦ content warnings ✦: smut, sexual situations and tension, cheating!, toxic environments, rockstar behavior, drug use, alcohol, mental health themes, angst. erm i think that’s it :/

The thing about being in a band with three brothers is that they argue like its their full-time job. Which, unfortunately, it kind of is.

And todays debate? whether chris being 20 minutes late to rehearsal is a big deal or not that deep.

Spoiler, matt thinks its a big deal.

"You’re late," matt announces the second chris strolls in, drumsticks tapping an annoyed rhythm against his thigh.

Chris, who has approximately zero shame, just shrugs. "im here now."

You suppress an eye roll so powerful it could knock you unconsious and adjust the mic stand in front of you.

"why are you so pressed?" chris asks, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder like he’s the main character of an indie movie.

"maybe because youre in a band and we cant exacly practice without you" matt deadpans

Chris scoffs, tuning his guitar like matt isn't five seconds away from launching a drumstick at his head. "you guys clearly survived without me."

"we’d survive without you permanently too" matt mutters

"oh, my bad─did i say i was late? i meant i was giving everyone a break from your personality."

You snort, and matt immediately glares at you

Chris grins. "see? she gets it."

matt turns that glare back on him. "of course she does, you both share mediocre humor."

Chris just flashes you that stupid easy grin, the one that makes it way too easy to forgive him.

And the worst part? you let it work, Every time.

40 minutes later rehearsal is still very much ongoing, every minute longer than the other. The thing about Matt is that he takes this band seriously. Too seriously, if you ask Chris. Not seriously enough, if you ask Matt.

And the thing about you and Matt? you're not exactly besties.

Which is why when you miss a note─barely a fraction off-key, nothing major─you immediately brace yourself.

"That was off," Matt says flatly.

You grip the mic, "no, it wasnt."

Matt tilts his head, eyes glinting with smug amusement. "oh? so now youre bad at music and lying?"

Chris snorts. "Yo, that was kind of crazy."

You turn to him, incredulous. "Whose side are you on?"

Chris raises his hands in surrender. "Not yours, apparently."

Matt smirks, tapping out a rhythm on the snare. "Tough break, rockstar."

You narrow your eyes at him, grip tightening around the mic stand. "I could literally unplug your entire kit and no one would care."

"Oh? so now you're bad at music, lying and violent?"

Nick sighs so loud it echoes over the amps. "Can we please just run through the set again before you two start throwing hands?"

Chris grins. "I'd actually pay to see that."

Matt rolls his eyes. "you'd lose."

You scoff, "you think you'd win?"

"I think I'd win easily."

"Oh, okay, drummer boy."

Chris claps his hands together. "Alright, great energy, love the tension─let's make it productive."

Matt mutters something under his breath, gripping his sticks.

You pretend you didn't hear him.

(You heard him.)

After rehearsal, Chris was the first to leave─ something about plans, which probably means meeting up with people who aren't you.

You tell yourself it doesn't bother you.

Nick stays behind, flipping through his camera roll, mumbling something about getting new promo shots next week.

And Matt─Matt just watches you.

Not in a weird way. More like he's waiting for you to say something first.

But you don't.

Because you already know what he's thinking.

Instead, you sigh, stretching your arms over your head. "We sounded good today."

Matt gives you a look. You know the one.

"You think that's funny?" he asks.

You grin. "I think it's funny how much you and Chris argue about literally everything."

Matt makes a face like he wants to argue with that, too, but instead, he just huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

"He's an idiot," Matt mutters.

You grin wider. "Yeah, but he's your idiot."

Matt looks at you. "Yeah, he's yours too."

You scoff, "Don't remind me."

Theres a beat of silence. A shift. A moment where Matt looks at you like he wants to say something else.

But then Nick shoves his camera in both your faces, declaring, "Promo pic," before either of you can move.

You and Matt both groan in unison, and just like that─the tension breaks. For now.

The next day

Rehearsal is the same as it always is.

Chaotic, too loud, filled with Matt’s grumbling, Chris’s laziness, and Nick’s occasional attempts at keeping the peace. You don’t know why Nick bothers. Keeping the peace in this band is like trying to stop a fire by politely asking it to calm down.

Chris is still on his phone, half-tuned into whatever conversation you’re all having. Matt is tuning his drums with unnecessary aggression, probably still mad at Chris breathing in his direction.

Nick, being the only professional one here, is adjusting his camera settings. He’s always filming rehearsal, always snapping random pictures of you mid-song, half-screaming into the mic or catching Matt mid-eye-roll. You don’t hate it. At least someone gives a shit about documenting this mess.

“You gonna put that thing down?” Matt nods toward Chris, arms crossed over his chest.

Chris barely looks up. “What thing?”

“Your fucking phone, dumbass.”

Chris tilts his head, like the concept of not being on his phone for five minutes is too much to comprehend. “Why?”

Matt lets out the biggest sigh of his life. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because we’re at rehearsal, and you’re supposed to be playing guitar instead of scrolling through Instagram like a thirteen-year-old girl?”

Chris smirks, eyes still locked on the screen. “Crazy of you to assume thirteen-year-old girls would follow me.”

You snort, and Matt turns on you instantly.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“I’m not,” you say, biting back a grin. “I just think he has a point.”

Matt glares at you like you’ve personally betrayed him. “Wow. And here I was, thinking you were on my side.”

“I’m on no one’s side,” you say, picking up the mic. “I’m on the side of getting this over with so I can go home.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, finally setting his phone down, “that makes two of us.”

You don’t know why that pisses you off.

It shouldn’t.

But it does.

The First Run-Through

The first song goes okay.

Not great. Not even good, really. But okay.

You’re halfway through the second verse when Chris completely butchers the chord progression, and Matt nearly snaps a drumstick in half.

“For fuck’s sake,” Matt groans, stopping mid-beat.

Chris doesn’t even look phased. “My bad.”

Matt stares at him, waiting for something more.

Chris stares back, blinking.

Matt’s eye twitches. “Are you gonna, I don’t know—fix it?”

Chris leans back against the amp, stretching. “I mean, yeah. Eventually.”

Matt turns to you. “You see what I’m dealing with?”

You roll your eyes, adjusting the mic stand. “I’ve been seeing it for years, man.”

Nick chimes in before Matt has an aneurysm. “It wasn’t that bad. We’ll run through it again.”

Matt mumbles something under his breath that definitely isn’t appropriate and probably isn’t legal.

Chris smirks. “Relax, bro. It’s not like we’re playing Madison Square Garden.”

Matt throws his drumstick at Chris’s head.

Chris dodges. Barely.

During break, you lean against the wall, drinking water while Nick scrolls through some of the footage he shot. Chris is back on his phone, and Matt is tapping out a rhythm on his drum kit, probably resisting the urge to beat Chris with his bare hands.

Nick glances at you. “Wanna see?”

You nod, sliding down onto the couch beside him. He plays back one of the videos, the footage capturing the way you move onstage—the way you and Chris naturally drift toward each other, the way Matt’s eyes stay locked on you for just a second too long.

You feel Matt watching over your shoulder.

“Delete that,” he says, pointing to a frame where you’re mid-hair flip, eyes closed, completely lost in the song.

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Matt shrugs. “Because she looks like an idiot.”

You shove him. “Fuck you.”

Matt smirks. “I’d rather die.”

Nick just sighs. “I don’t know why I put up with you two.”

Chris, still distracted, barely glances up. “Because you love us.”

Nick doesn’t deny it.

The Second Run-Through

It’s better.

Barely.

Chris actually tries this time, which is shocking. Matt is still grumpy as hell, but at least he’s not actively plotting a murder.

You sing, pushing past the irritation, focusing on the music instead of the unspoken tension that’s always there.

Nick takes more pictures.

Matt keeps time, his drumsticks flying, jaw clenched, focused.

Chris doesn’t miss a note.

By the end of it, you’re exhausted.

“Good enough?” you ask, setting the mic down.

Matt wipes sweat off his forehead, breathing hard. “Not even close.”

Chris shrugs. “Close enough for me.”

Matt looks like he’s about to throw something again.

Nick steps in before violence erupts. “We’ll work on it more tomorrow.”

Chris is already packing up.

“Can’t wait,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You expect him to say something—to acknowledge you, maybe tell you he’ll call or text or at least act like your boyfriend.

But he doesn’t.

He just leaves.

No goodbye. No glance in your direction.

And Matt sees it.

You know he does, because he won’t stop staring at you.

You force a laugh, shoving your stuff into your bag. “I don’t know what you’re looking at.”

Matt shrugs, too casual. “Just wondering how long you’re gonna keep pretending that’s normal.”

You freeze for half a second.

Then, without looking at him, you grab your keys and walk out.

Because Matt doesn’t get it.

or maybe he does, which in all honesty─is worse.

And you don’t have time for that.

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

this is pretty eh

but i’m so locked in on this series don’t even play w me rn. im excited

xoxo paris

[bonelyheartsclub]

Hello! If I'm not mistaken, I think I saw some news that this amazing game might be released within this year. Could you let me know how close it is to completion? (Or, if possible, when it might be finished!) I apologize if this is an inappropriate question ;-;

To address this, the game will not be released this year or next year. Because of team member departures and reorganizing the structure to amp up the development of the game we are hoping to aim to have the writing completed edited/finalized and 40% of the artwork done by next year as per our previous post addressing a similar question linked here. Still we hope you’ll continue following our quarterly updates and future posts from now on regarding the progress of the game.

[mayapapaya33]

I hope in the animated mighty nein show they keep Nott repeatedly endangering/ killing Caduseus with her recklessness with the exploding arrows (or at least have the one big moment). I also hope they do a bit more with it in the show, like some sort of mild confrontation about her behavior. Idk, Caduceus is so kind, maybe there could be slightly more emphasis on it considering she LITERALLY KILLED HIM lmfao. (C2 E55 4:03:40)

Maybe one of the others could be like wtf? You killed Caduceus! holy shit! And then the two of them could have a nice chat like they did when Taliesin got back (I so wish he hadn't been absent that next episode, but it is what it is). Percy got punched in the face by Vax for forgetting to check for traps, which accidentally killed Vex, which they very much amped up for the animation into him coaxing her into being reckless. Veth ACTIVELY exploded Caduceus to death because she wasn't paying attention to where she aimed or collateral damage radius to her weapon! They've gotta play with that!

It can also set up a pattern of recklessness that pays off in the fact that she very much got herself killed fucking around dismantling deadly traps. I don't remember if she was drunk or nott; C2 E83 (3:19:15) AND how later on her and Jester being loud and reckless endangered her both their friends and families and got Veth's son killed. I'm not still salty about C2 E129 no siree, I'm not still irritated that Veth and Jester couldn't sit still for 10 fucking minutes to let Caleb cast the dome, nope, not me lmfao. (Speaking of life lessons I hope they emphasize a little harder in the animated show, Marion and Yeza are waaaaaay too nice hahaha. Also they didn't really know it was 100% Jester and Veth's fault but I digress). Combined with her arc about alcoholism and self worth I can see a really great storyline. Those are very strong, interesting themes to write about.

Maybe she goes on a mini bender out of guilt for hurting Caduceus after or something, or just some actual conversations between the characters about it, anything really to have it in the narrative. That death is when he gets his first in campaign major vision from the Wildmother as well, so that would be very interesting to see. Especially if they manage to preserve the blink and you miss it information buried in a beautiful conversation with his sister later on that he used to eat lilies (which are poisonous plants irl) to try to talk to the Wildmother when he was all alone. Campaign 2, Episode 130 (2:37:32) The subtle tragedy of his loneliness and isolated devotion are so slept on sometimes so I really hope it's addressed more.

They said they were changing things; that's one of the things I hope gets fleshed out a bit more. Taliesin really played support for most of C2 and he did it wonderfully, but I hope they take the opportunity to bring some of his more subtle character journey to the forefront for the show.

[speedybeta]

The sixth member headcannon was sooo good, pls make more 🙏

Being the 6th member of Beta squad Part 2

PART 1 , MASTERLIST 𖦹ׂ 𓈒 ／ ⋆ ۪

A/n: thank you guys for the likes on the first headcanon I appreciate it ♡

Warnings: none!! Switched up the style btw I'm improving

Being a member is fun but the thing that you hated the most was the amount of times you've been shipped with one of the others.

You'd definitely get shipped with Sharky most of the time. Sharky flirts with you the most while AJ does it the least

You'd constantly get called a "pick me" all because you're in the beta squad and the only female member but it's obvious the haters r just jealous

I imagine you having beef or something with a member from the sideman or amp as a joke (from sideman KSI and from AMP it would probably be Agent or Kai)

The other members of the beta squad definitely flirt with you a lot as a joke

"guess the gold digger (your name) edition they were a bit jealous watching while you went on a date with random men n that kinda made them realize that they all might have a thing for you

Kai cenat probably would have a little crush on you n try to make a move on you doing the Collabs

You were a guest on Kai's stream before, and just like tyla, he asks you out in front of the whole stream.. as attractive as kai is, you said no because he's obviously not looking for something genuine

Speaking of Collabs, they always made sure you weren't uncomfortable while collaborating with other YouTubers like the silent library video with amp

In the silent library video, of course some of the challenges were things you and the boys didn't really do on the beta squad, they of course said they'd switch cards with you in case you weren't comfortable doing a challenge

Like the weenie challenge, let's say you got the skull card and felt uncomfortable with doing it, they would of course do it for you

Living in the beta squad house was such a fun time

It was so hectic but fun

You felt so safe in that house

You kept the house tidy with the help of Chunkz

If you're a good cook, they'd beg for you to cook them something

Of course you would. especially for AJ since you didn't want him to order unhealthy food everyday

Whenever you were bored and one of the boys were home you'd just bother them like an annoying little sibling

Watching the lion king with Chunkz whenever you were bored and he was home (you guys watched that movie over 40 times together)

Brainstorming video ideas with Niko and helping him with videos for his channel

You and AJ playing video games together for house straight

Working out with Kenny or going with him for runs

You forcing Sharky to watch SpongeBob with you (just a random scenario I made)

They'd constantly come into your room just to annoy you (especially Niko or AJ) they act like annoying brothers who come into your room to move your stuff around, mess up your bed, then leaving without closing the door

So many arguments and bickering living all together

Even after you moved out, they'd still show up uninvited to your house

They always are there for you and never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.

If you have anxiety or social anxiety the boys are always there to help you feel better

The boys know you so well, they can tell when you're feeling uncomfortable talking to someone. Like maybe a fan was making you feel uncomfortable, they'd jump into the conversation quickly and end it

If anybody ever tries to hurt or harm you during a video, let's say the pretending to work at a McDonald's drive through, they'd probably beat them up (mostly Kenny, Chunkz, Or Niko. AJ would stay close to you and make sure you're safe, I don't think AJ would jump in 😭 bur just like the video where the random hobo attacked the camera man and Niko and Kenny were there)

They'd Never leave you out or exclude you in stuff, they always invite you and never do anything without you

They always come to you for advice on girls since you of course give good advice (unless you don't)

If you're smart and always get questions right in the weakest link, quiz of the year, mastermind, etc chunkz would get annoyed for not being the smartest

Maybe back when you first started YouTube and met Chunkz and Sharky, fans would say you'd had a sibling bond with them (meaning you acted like siblings)

Niko definitely teases you the most. He comes up with the most random insults for you that make zero sense

AJ loves to bother you and acts like an annoying little brother. During filming, you two argue over random things which makes the videos more entertaining

Sharky flirts with you a lot. But besides that, he can sometimes act like an overprotective best friend.

Kenny and you laugh at anything and everything. Constantly hitting each other while laughing in videos

Chunkz and you break out into songs randomly. Even though all the boys tease you, he's second to tease you the most.

But you have a bond with each one of the boys, you have a close relationship with them all. There's no awkwardness between you and any of them.

♡━━━━━♡

I tried.. but thank you guys for the requests, I'm working on all the NSFW alphabets n everything else 💙💙 this was kinda random but I definitely would make three cause there's so many scenarios I could imagine 🐁🐀🐁🐀🐁🐀

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Austin Grossman’s ‘Fight Me’

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Fight Me, the novelist and game developer Austin Grossman uses aging ex-teen superheroes to weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark:

http://www.austingrossman.com/fight-me

It is, in other words, a very Gen X kinda novel. Prodigy (AKA Alex Beekman) is a washed-up superhero. As a nerdy high-schooler, he was given super powers by a mysterious wizard (posing as a mediocre teacher), who gave him an amulet and a duty. Whenever Alex touches the amulet and speaks the word of power, reaclun (which he insists is not "nuclear" backwards) he transforms into Prodigy, a nigh-invulnerable, outrageously handsome living god who is impervious to bullets, runs a one-minute mile, and fights like a champ. Prodigy, he is told, has a destiny: to fight the ultimate evil when it emerges and save the world.

Now, Alex is 40, and it's been a decade since he retired both Prodigy and his Alex identity, moving into a kind of witness protection program the federal government set up for him. He poses as a mediocre university professor, living a lonely and unexceptional life.

But then, Alex is summoned back to the superhero lair he shared with his old squad, "The Newcomers," a long-vacant building that is one quarter Eero Saarinen, three quarters Mussolini. There, he is reunited with his estranged fellow ex-Newcomers, and sent on a new quest: to solve the riddle of the murder of the mysterious wizard who gave him his powers, so long ago.

The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than Alex/Prodigy, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime"). With flashbacks, flashforwards, and often hilarious asides, Prodigy brings us up to speed on how supers fail, and what it's like to live as a failed super.

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

When I realized this, I got briefly mad, because I've only had two good movie high concept pitches in my life and one of them was "Gen X Big Chill." Rather than veterans of the Summer of 68 confronting the Reagan years, you could have veterans of the Battle of Seattle living through the Trump years. One would be on PeEP, one would be an insufferable Andrew Tate-quoting bitcoiner, one would be a redpilled reactionary with a genderqueer teen, one would be a squishy lib, one a firebreathing leftist, etc. The soundtrack would just be top 40 tracks from artists who have songs on "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schoolhouse_Rock!_Rocks

Every generation has some way in which they seek to overthrow the status quo and build a new, allegedly better one, after all. "Big Chill"'s impact comes from its postmortem on a generation where it was easy to feel like you were riding destiny's rails to greatness thanks to the sheer size of the Boomer cohort and the postwar prosperity they lived through. A Gen X Big Chill would be a stocktaking of a generation that defined itself as a lost generation reared in the Boomers' shadows, armored against the looming corpo-climate apocalypse with the sword of irony and the shield of sincerity.

Which is basically what Grossman is doing here. What's more, doing this as a superhero story is a genius move – what could be a better metaphor for a teen's unrealistic certainty of destined greatness than a superhero? Superhero fantasies are irreducibly grandiose and unrealistic, but all the more beautiful and brave and compelling for it.

You know, like teens.

At 52, I'm a middle-aged Gen Xer. I've got two artificial hips and I just scheduled a double cataract surgery. My hairline is receding. I'm an alta kaker. But I wasn't always: I was a bright and promising kid, usually the youngest person in the room where we were planning big protests, ambitious digital art projects, or the future of science fiction. I had amazing friends: creative and funny and sweet, loyal and talented and just fun.

We're mostly doing okay (the ones that lived; fuck cancer and fuck heroin and fuck fentanyl). Some of us are doing pretty good. On a good day, I think I'm doing pretty good. I had a night in 2018 where I got to hang out, as a peer, with my favorite musician and my favorite novelist, both in the same evening. These were artists I'd all but worshipped as a teen. I remember looking at the two selfies I took than night and thinking, Man, if 15 year old me could see these, he'd say that it all worked out.

But you don't get to be 52 without having a long list of regrets and failures that your stupid brain is only too eager to show you a highlight reel from. No one gets to middle age without a haunting loss that is always trying to push its way to the fore in order to incinerate every triumph great and small and leave ashes behind.

That's why there's a "Big Chill" for every generation. Each one has its own specific character and meaning situated in history, but each one has to grapple with the double-edged sword of nostalgia. Not for nothing, John Hodgman (a bona fide Gen X icon) calls nostalgia "a toxic impulse."

Grossman really makes Fight Me work as a Gen X Big Chill. He's a great Gen X writer; his first novel, Soon I Will Be Invincible, was a knockout debut about superheroes and supervillains that had a very "The Boys" vibe, you know, that neat little move where you contend with the banal parts of a super's life and show how super powers don't make you a good person, or even a competent one.

His followup to Invincible came six years later. YOU is a coming-of-age story about the games industry with a second-person narrator (think "Zork"). Grossman is an accomplished game dev (Tomb Raider Legend, Deus X, Dishonored, etc), and he uses YOU to really plumb the depths of what games mean, what fun is, and how working on games isn't just work, it's often really shitty work, the opposite of fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2013/04/16/austin-grossmans-you-brilliant-novel-plumbs-the-heroic-and-mystical-depths-of-gaming-and-simulation/

Grossman's last novel was Crooked, a very daffy alternate history in which Richard Nixon is a Cthulhoid sorcerer locked in a Lovecraftian battle of good and evil. This is a purely hilarious romp, wildly imaginative and deliciously certain to offend reactionary jerks:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/08/26/austin-grossmans-crooked-the-awful-cthulhoid-truth-about-richard-nixon/

All those chops are on display in Fight Me: a book that covers its brooding with wisecracks, that spits out ten great gags per page even as it drives a knife into your heart. It's a great novel.

Fight Me doesn't come out in the US and Canada until tomorrow (it's been out in the UK, Australia, NZ, etc for more than a month). Normally, I would hold off on reviewing this until the on-sale date, but this is my last day on the blog for two weeks – I'm leaving on a family vacation early tomorrow morning. I'll see you on July 14!

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

[beardedmrbean]

Japan is poised to amp up its use of nuclear power to meet national energy needs after a 13-year pause in the wake of the 2011 Fukushima disaster, according to a new strategy document released on Tuesday.

A draft energy strategy aims to push for nuclear and renewable energy to be utilised “to the fullest extent” in order to maintain economic growth and tackle emissions, The Japan Times reported.

To this end, the draft policy calls for the construction of new nuclear reactors.

Japan’s Fukushima nuclear plant was heavily damaged by a major earthquake and tsunami in March 2011, sparking a series of meltdowns and the release of radioactive materials in the biggest nuclear disaster since Chernobyl. The country shut down all nuclear power plants in the aftermath.

The nuclear accident was ranked top of the International Nuclear and Radiological Event Scale, but no death was immediately linked to radiation exposure.

The draft policy states that nuclear power should meet nearly 20 per cent of Japan’s energy needs by the fiscal year 2040 and renewable energy 40-50 per cent, more than doubling the utilisation of energy from these sources.

As of 2023, nuclear power provides for roughly 8.5 per cent of the country’s energy needs and renewables about 23 per cent, according to data from the trade ministry.

The draft policy also recommends replacing decommissioned plants with advanced reactors and calls for building new nuclear plants or expanding existing ones.

The new policy is needed, senior energy officials said, because Japan “continues to have vulnerabilities in its energy supply”. "Our nation doesn’t have readily available resources, and is geographically challenged, with mountainous terrain and deep waters that limit expansion of renewables,” Yoshifumi Murase, commissioner of the Agency for Natural Resources and Energy at the Ministry of Trade, said on Tuesday.

The draft strategy has sparked anger and disapproval from families impacted by the Fukushima tragedy.

Thousands of people fled their homes when exclusion zones were set up in the aftermath of the disaster, although local authorities did not order evacuations in some areas for several weeks.

“There are still things that need to be done before changing the policy,” Suenaga, a resident who lived 30km from the nuclear plant and lost his father in the aftermath of the disaster, told The Asahi Shimbun newspaper.

The disaster displaced more than 25,000 people and evacuation orders are still in place for seven municipalities.

Another aggrieved local resident, Hachisuka, said: “The disaster is being forgotten while there are still people who cannot return to their homes,” the report added. _____________________________

Based Japan