#I hit the button and it does nothing so I had to log in on desktop to write this?

[hypaalicious]

TFW you spend an hour & a half getting to seaborn!Skadi just for her to wash your party like a typhoon

IS3 is going great btw

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine. 

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool. 

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn. 

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed. 

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time. 

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting.  Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.” 

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie. 

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom. 

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

-

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,” 

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs. 

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

��Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again. 

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand. 

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time. 

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance. 

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here. 

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand. 

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8. 

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.” 

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. 

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Millie Bright x Reader

Part Five - So Far Removed

Posted:28/04/23, Edited: 26/09/23

The door to the plane tunnel closed as you soaked in the last glimpse of your girlfriend from the other side. Your heart sunk a little as the reality set in, you’d taken the piss out of Rachel the whole journey now here you are moping yourself. The hands of Millie landing on your shoulders suddenly jolting you out of the impending funk “come on bestie! We’re gonna have so much fun!” linking her arm in yours and trotting towards the plane. As you neared the door Chelsea’s social media person was there filming the players file onto the plane “sorry can you get out the shot so we can just get Bright?” Dropping the link between you but Millie immediately stopped your arm from leaving hers as soon as she felt your grip loosen. “Err, no if you want me you gotta get my best friend too!” the captain remarked as she shuffled you onto the plane without giving it a second thought. Your mouth dropped wide open at the sight of what was inside the metal shell, earning yourself an elbow to the ribs. “What, you never seen a private plane before?” Millie smirked “mate, I’ve never had extra leg room before, let alone a private jet!” you exclaimed as she showed you to your seat next to hers. “So this is a taster for the World Cup is it?” you said pressing all the buttons and playing with everything like a child. “Oh the England jet is sooo much better! This is nothing!” Millie nonchalantly announced. “THIS is nothing to you?! Oh to be a footballer!” you scoffed and rolled your eyes as you flopped into your chair, immediately kicking the recliner back. “The last time I was on a plane someone screamed at me for putting my chair back! That was barely an inch!” leaning back fully until your chair was practically flat. “You’re cute” Millie gushed at your naïveté, “you’re spoilt!” you hit back at her remarks. Your reality and hers so far apart you were practically on different planets as you gawped at the plane staff putting your bags in the locker for you. “Smile!” she shouted as she shoved her phone in your face - ‘honorary team member’ she posted.

Falling asleep almost immediately you were woken almost an hour later by Millie prodding you “hey, I didn’t get you on this plane to sleep!” poking you repeatedly until you sat up. “We got TikToks to make.. Oh, and Rach text you” she said still as loud and bouncy as ever. Asking how you’d received texts as you’re still in the air she said she’d taken the liberty of logging you onto the complimentary WiFi. You stared at her unbelievably, this is how the other half lives aih? You asked what she had lined up for you, she spoke about a few ideas and before you knew it you were at the back of the plane learning dances. It must be exhausting being her team mate, she just does not stop - even with a dodgy knee!

Another hour passed when you landed in Barcelona, stepping out of the plane the hot air hit you like a brick wall, quickly pulling your jumper off and letting the sun rays soak you up. This is exactly what you needed after a long, harsh English winter - you couldn’t wait to plop your bikini cad arse on a sun lounger!

After checking in to your hotel room you threw your suitcase onto the bed, immediately rummaging through everything to unpack. Finding your new bikinis and putting one on before flopping onto the bed to FaceTime Rach to let her know you had arrived safely. The call didn’t last long as she started acting jealous again, hanging up with love and jokes so she knew you loved her but enjoyed the luxury of being able to switch her off this time. Grabbing your towel and lotion you wasted no time getting straight to the pool, finding a perfect lounger to station yourself at to get lost in your book. Finishing a few chapters when someone blocked the sunlight to your body, looking over your sunglasses to see that Millie had found you - there goes the peace and quiet! Cocktails in hand she parked herself on the lounger next to you, she talked about how the Man City girls are out here too and asked if we wanted to go out with them tonight. Of course you were up for this and started planning what outfit to wear in your head. Surprisingly enough, Millie had also bought a book with her and laid with you to read a few more chapters while getting a good start on your tan.

Before heading back to you grabbed a bite to eat together then shuffled back to your room to shower and wash your hair. Running to Millie’s room still in your towel to sit on the balcony and dry off together, eating and pre drinking your way into the evening. When you were nicely tipsy you bought all your things to her room to get ready together - the music was loud, the drinks were flowing and before you knew it it was time to go. Stepping out of the bathroom after getting changed you could feel your friend’s eye on you “god (y/l/n), you have no business looking that hot!” Trying to disguise the smile that was etched on your face as you weren’t expecting those words to leave her mouth, “not bad yourself Brighty!” you tried to play it off. Rach had already said that if it feels right go for it but to tell her everything after, so you weren’t completely off the table to each other while you were away. Snapping a few photos and sending them to Rach before heading into town to meet Ellie, Alex, Chloe and Demi in a karaoke bar. Later that evening Lucy and Keira made an appearance too.

Part Six - FWB 🔞

[normal-sea-urchin]

Casey Jones: Mutant Apocalypse: Chapter 2

look at me, posting a second chapter today, good work sea urchin

this one's a bit longer and more dialogue heavy, but regardless please enjoy

Raphael sat on the edge of a log, tapping his foot anxiously. "Maybe I could take Chompy, and then I could go look for her." he suggested to his brothers. Mira had left to go collect spare firewood, but had been gone an unusually long time now. 

"Dude, no. Mira's only been gone for a few hours, she's fine." Michelangelo shrugged. Raph gave a low growl in acknowledgment, still staring deep into the forest. 

"But what if-" he began. 

"She's fine, Raph." Leo consoled, throwing an arm around his brother. "I get that you're worried, but Mira can handle herself. I mean, she was able to take care of herself for years before you and Donnie found her, right?"

"Yeah, in the desert maybe." the red cladded turtle muttered. "But this is a completely different biome, and we've barely explored it, and we don't know what may be inside, or-" 

"Raph!" the three other turtles yelled in unison. Raph snapped up to find his brothers staring him down with varying expressions on their faces. 

"Fine, whatever." Raph dismissed, getting up and turning his back to the forest. 

                ____________________

She still wasn't back. It had been several more hours and the sun was setting. Raph was sat back on the same log as he was earlier, staring down the forest. A few yards away, his brothers discussed the situation. 

"Ok, so, maybe he had a point," Leo admitted, kicking out the conversation. "Mira's been gone for a seriously long time, maybe we should start looking for her." 

"Yeah bros, I don't like this." Mikey confessed. Even Ice Cream Kitty meowed in agreement. 

Leo nodded. "Donnie, what do you think?" 

Donnie stared at his red masked brother, who at this point was bouncing his entire leg up and down. "I think it'd be best if we started looking for Mira. It's not like her to be gone this long and Raph is totally freaking out over it." 

"Then it's decided." Leo announced. "Hey Raph!" Raph turned to face Leo. "Suit up, we're gonna go look for Mira." As soon as Leo gave the order, Raph sprung up to get his weapons and anything else he may need. 

The four of them devised a plan. They split the forest up into four sectors and were each assigned where to look. Dontron had engineered timers that would signal when to start heading back, so no one would worry the others. The timers also had a button attached that they could press to let the others know that whoever pressed it had found Mira and that they could all start heading back. They had also decided they would do something to mark their path so they wouldn't get lost. Leo would make a path with rope, Mikey would arrange a path using small rocks, Raph would mark his way with an old can of spray paint, and Donnie had the brilliant idea to mark his path with twinkling lights, so he would have enough light for the trip back. And with that, they set off. Mikey explored the woods on the other side of the lake, Donnie to the left, Leo to the right, and Raph would go straight into the forest. 

Raph walked cautiously through the forest, occasionally marking a tree or large rock with a red X. As he walked, he kept a sharp eye out for Mira. How does she even avoid getting lost herself? he wondered to himself. Every now and then, he would get so lost in thought and get hit in the face with a low hanging tree branch, or trip on a particularly large rock. 

An hour passed. No luck. Another hour, still nothing. Two and a half hours into the search, he decided to just start calling her name. "Mira?" he called out into the woods. "Hey Mira!" It didn't help. At three hours, he was really starting to get worried. She'd been gone for what, almost 10 hours now? And she still hadn't come back. Who knows? Raph thought, Maybe she already found her way back home and is wondering where we all are. Just as he finished that thought, Donnie's alarm to start heading back went off. Raph waited a minute before heading back. As much as he wanted to keep looking, he didn't feel like seeing what lurks in the forest after dark. But he also didn't feel like possibly leaving Mira in the forest, so he did his best to convince himself that she was back at camp, or that maybe one of his brothers found her and had just forgotten to press the button to let the others know.

He was the last to make it back to camp, and was greeted by disappointed head shakes from his brothers when asked if any of them found Mira. The group then went silent, not even Mikey dared to say something. 

"C'mon you guys. Let's get to bed." Leo said sullenly. Without a word, the group disappeared into their own respective tents. None of them can say they got a good sleep that night.

                ____________________

The next morning, Raph woke disappointed to find that Mira had found her way home in the night. After breakfast, which in reality was just Raph prodding his food while the others ate silently, they divided back up into their sectors and continued to search for Mira. Although there had been no luck the previous night, Raph had a bit of a better feeling today, probably due to it being lighter out. 

As he stalked through the forest, he heard a twig snap ahead. His eyes shot open, and assuming it was Mira he cut through the bush. "Mira?" Raph looked side to side several times before realizing Mira was only a few several yards to his left. "Mira!" he yelled, running up to her, and thoughtlessly hugging her. Upon realizing he was hugging her, he simply put his hands on her shoulders. "Where have you been? We've been worried sick! And do you know how- Where did you get that?" Raph cut himself off, taking notice of the apple in Mira's right paw. 

"Hm?" Mira hummed before realizing what he was referring to. "Oh, uh, this thing? I, uh, foraged it?" she responded in a suspicious manner. 

"Ok. Well where have you been?"

"Oh! I, uh, slept in a tree." Mira said in that same tone as before. Raph raised an eyebrow in response. "I tied myself to a branch with my whip and used leaves and grass to make a blanket." Mira gave a small smile. 

Raph let out a small sigh. "Ok, as long as you're safe kiddo. Now c'mon, let's go home." the turtles said, pressing the button to let his brothers know Mira had been found. 

As the two walked back, Raph asked "Hey, you got any more apples?" 

"Apples? You mean these things?" Mira responded. 

"Yeah, those are called apples kiddo." 

"Huh, cool. But yeah, I have more. Here you go." 

"Thanks kiddo." 

[loudsnapdragon]

it's a sex shop fic.

Buy Local: Steve Harrington's Guide to Modern Sexuality

steve/eddie. mature. 49,000 words, 5/5 chapters. background platonic stobin, nancy/jonathan, and robin/vickie. read on ao3 here, loudsnapdragon.

Amid the crotchless lingerie and silicone dildoes that litter the floor of Hawkins’ worst and best and only Adult Store, Steve undergoes a very short, and not very stressful sexuality crisis; Robin fails to lose her virginity; and Eddie refuses to admit why he doesn’t use Grindr. It’s not what Steve expected out of life, definitely not what Steve's dad expected out of his life either, but Steve’s not complaining, well, not until he ends up locked in the stockroom, with nothing more than a bag of genitalia-shaped candy, and a prudish Eddie Munson to keep him entertained, with their least favourite gun-carrying regular tearing apart the merchandise outside.

‘Co-captain’s log, the time is…’ Steve checks his watch. ‘4:47pm, the date is 06/10/23, we are currently locked-’

‘You cannot be serious.’

Steve snaps his head away from the security camera positioned in the high corner of the stock room, scowling at Eddie, who sits jaw-dropped, eyebrows set in a furious line, legs sprawled out on the floor, his elbows wresting on a cardboard box marked Penis-Enhancer 2000.

‘What else am I going to do? Dude, we just have to wait this out. I pressed the panic button. The police will be here soon. Might as well be productive.’

Outside the stock room, there’s a loud thump, a swooping noise, followed by the quiet woosh of air escaping an inflatable. Steve winces. Unlucky Doris.

Eddie pulls at his hair with both hands, his feet bouncing faster. ‘How is that being productive?’

‘It’s how me and Robin pass on notes, don’t be a dick. Just calm down and shut up.’ He turns back round to the camera. ‘It’s the sixth of October, and we are currently locked inside the stock room…’

There’s another bang from outside the stock room, the sound of Rodney’s muffled cursing, then a shelf falling over, a clattering of small boxes hitting the floor. Steve silently mourns his beautifully organised DVD displays.

Eddie clumsily jumps up onto his long legs, belt chains clanking on the cement floor, knocking over a box of skin rags in the process, starting to pace manically around Steve. ‘We’ve gotta do something! He has a gun.’

Steve shrugs from the floor. ‘It’s just Rodney.’

‘It’s just Rodney? How can you be so chill? He’s tearing your store apart!’

Steve rolls his eyes, giving up on his captain’s log. ‘Dude, this is like the third time this has happened to me. I don’t really care anymore. Ms. Scarlet has insurance, she’ll be fine.’

From the sounds of it, Doris will be the only casualty, which is a shame, Steve had grown quite fond of the inflatable sex doll.

read more under the cut.

Eddie stops his frantic circling around the six-foot square space. ‘This store has been robbed two times already?’

‘Oh, I dunno, probably, Ms. Scarlet seems prepared, but the other robberies weren’t here.’ Steve yanks Eddie down by the shins, because he just can’t deal with the unnecessary panic right now. ‘That was at Scoops.’

‘Who the fuck does a stick-up at an ice cream parlour?’ Eddie says, confused, which is good, maybe if he’s distracted, he’ll give up with the fretting. He settles beside Steve, leather pants tacky as he wraps his arms around his knees, feet still bouncing.

‘Two guys who massively overestimated the value of vanilla milkshakes.’ Steve says, planting a hand on Eddie’s thigh to stop it shaking, only resulting in Eddie striking it off with a scowl.

Steve laughs, ‘Oh, I forgot there was a robbery at Family Video too, but I wasn’t working that day. And there was this car chase at the drive through, same day that me and Robin got locked in overnight, but that was just the kids messing with us.’

Eddie skews his eyes. ‘Dustin?’

‘Nah, not him. Will and Mike.’

‘Will?’ Eddie asks, tilting his head, surprised. ‘I mean Mike, sure. But Will? I did not expect that for him.’

‘He’s a schemer when he wants to be. He got pissy when I refused to give them free milkshakes on their big date. He pickpocketed the building keys off Robin when she wasn’t paying attention.’

Eddie smiles, feet slowly stilling. ‘Good for him. The boy deserves some mischief.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Steve scoffs. ‘We’d just finished a ten-hour shift. I was exhausted. Have you ever been forced to make an emergency bed out of hamburger buns? Have you?’

Eddie’s eyes glint in the stock room’s dim light, and he laughs as he fiddles with his hair, curled round his finger, long line of his neck white and gleaming; and Steve considers, not for the first time, there’s danger here, in the trapped box of a stockroom. They’re locked there, their phones lying dead and smashed behind the door, waiting until the police arrive as Steve’s least favourite regular throws a weaponised hissy fit outside.

‘Be honest, was that the worst place you’ve ever fallen asleep?’ Eddie asks, with a knowing lilt.

Steve sighs, smiles despite it. ‘Obviously not. The worst place was last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘Yeah. I swear, my Grindr date’s bed was stuffed full of rocks.’

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back, opens his mouth to speak, stops at the sound of a bullet pinging off the stock room door.

Steve turns to it, bolted from the inside. There’s another bang, a loud crash, then presumably what must be Rodney chuckling to himself.

Steve glances over at the screen with the different security camera views by the light switch, where all the store’s cameras are still very much covered in the silly string Rodney brought along, pink and orange lines dripping over the three of the four views, the fourth one just a grey-scale square in the corner, showing Steve and Eddie hauled up in the stockroom, looking like off-duty actors caught behind the scenes. 

Eddie starts biting his lip so hard it’s going bright red. ‘Fuck. Fuck. He has a gun! Steve, he has a gun!’

Steve pats his shoulder. ‘The door is like, titanium, or something. Ms. Scarlet says it’s bulletproof.’

‘Thank God.’ Eddie exhales, raises his hand to cover Steve’s, skin on skin, then a second later, blushes, and shakes it away. Steve can’t help but smirk.

‘This never happened upstairs, we’ve never had a robbery.’ 

‘Huh. I woulda’ thought a vape store would get tonnes of this shit.’

‘No.’ Eddie says, his legs practically hovering off the floor. ‘Not once. Never had it at the record store either.’

‘Was the record store your only other job?’ Steve asks, trying to find a conversation that will take Eddie’s mind of the madman outside. Probably rude to call Rodney a madman, like he’s an asshole, obviously, but it’s not his fault he has a couple screws loose.

‘Yeah, yeah. Only other legal job.’ Eddie says, unravelling his legs, almost relaxing. ‘Started working there at sixteen, stayed there four years. Then it closed, and… well… you know how my move to the city went after that. But shit man, I can still remember how bummed I was when Andy said he was going to sell the place.’

‘I get it, fucking pain in my ass when Family Video closed.’ Steve says, ‘And Scoops, and Benny’s, and Holloway Press, and Merrill’s farm, and the library, and…’

‘Christ.’ Eddie interrupts. He does that all the time. ‘How many jobs have you had? How did ya’ even get all them?’

Steve doesn’t try counting, he’d need his resume to know for sure. ‘Robin’s good at applications.’

Eddie snorts. ‘You get Robin to apply for all your jobs?’

‘Yeah. We’re a package team, she’s not going anywhere I can’t follow.’

‘Cute.’ Eddie rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his only-slightly shaky knee. ‘Soo how did you end up here? At this wonderful, titanium protected, sex emporium? She sent in an application for you both?’

Steve kicks out his legs and raises his eyebrows. The door remains shut, the barrage of Rodney’s destruction filtering through the cracks.

‘Actually, that was all me.’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkins has always been a shit hole, but in the years following Steve and Robin’s consecutive high school graduations, it’s become an all-encompassing shit crater; a chasm devouring and destroying all hope for the few youths that remain in their backwash hometown. Every local store closing, most of the big businesses vacating, Family Video first, but hey, can’t blame them. Personally, Steve blames Netflix, streaming is killing the little guys, people just don’t appreciate a good DVD these days.

Benny’s drive through-was the saddest closure, but the man was just retiring early, couldn’t be assed competing with the McDonalds down the highway. Steve didn’t really give a shit when the newspaper stopped printing, other than losing out on that sweet dental insurance and his last pay cheque. Tom Holloway, the rat bastard, still owes him $558. But Nancy was real torn up, practically mourning the local paper, had a very detailed argument explaining why late-stage capitalism was murdering independent journalism, which Steve failed to keep up with, too busy trying to surreptitiously text Robin under the diner table, asking her if she had any luck with their application at Walmart.

Robin is forging an escape route, halfway done at the community college in the town over, but she’s still bunking with her parents, still pretending to be dating Steve to survive scrutinising questions at weekly family meals; saving up cash for the fancy, probably single sex dorm rooms at whatever stupid, liberal arts school on the East Coast she’ll eventually run away to. Yes, Steve is bitter about her plans to move away, but never enough to try to stop her. So, for now, they still spend their weekends together, driving the pot-holed roads and empty streets, past the burnt-out crisp of Starcourt mall and the bug infested corn fields, singing along to the cheesy local radio stations, and gossiping about all the other losers still clinging on to their hometown by their fingernails.

They’re both very experienced, very bored, and very, very desperate for cash; like most other twenty somethings stuck in the Midwest; and with the rent on the tiny apartment in Steve’s shabby complex only getting higher, and the scholarships Robin’s applying to only getting more competitive; their desperate job hunting driving around the edges of Hawkins eventually leads to the sign-less warehouses just past the town boundary, where the sidewalk stops, the windows are painted black, and the posters promise: a clean and confidential experience.

Robin slams the car door after jumping out the passenger seat. Steve scowls, and she huffs, before gently petting the door and cooing. He accepts this apology on his Beamer’s behalf with a tight-lipped nod.

She twitches her nose as she looks up and down the strip. ‘Steve, are you sure about this?’

‘Not really, but hey? Can’t do any harm.’

A literal tumbleweed rolls over their feet. A crow caws from its stoop on a rickety drainpipe. A barefoot woman in a massive trench coat stumbles out the back entrance of the farthest warehouse, lighting her cigarette, pushing away her silver wig to glare at them over a cloud of smoke.

‘I’m feeling like it could do some harm.’

‘We could do worse.’ He says, ‘Come on.’

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Ch. 5 Meakashi pt. 24

Well, I suppose that's that. The mystery can be put to bed.

Sike, it's time for the credits. So in this version of events it shows that the curse of Oyashiro indeed isn't a thing. A whole bunch of citizens from Hinamizawa all moved and are living it up in Tokyo. Also it's interesting to note that since Shion single-handedly killed the entirety of the power structure of Hinamizawa the volcanic gas incident didn't happen. Also Teppei lives to be a social pariah another day. I wonder how the elderly followers of Oyashiro handled Rika's death? Did they all experience a massive crisis of faith since the reincarnation of their god got killed? Fun little thought experiment I suppose.

Also, awww, would you look at that. Everyone got to be friends in the afterlife. Or in an alternate timeline. The way the manga did this part was exceptionally vicious. This little hallucinatory bit took place after Shion hit the elevator and started falling to the ground below. Then afterwards: two page spread of dead Shion.

You may recall at the start of the episode it once again brought up the "There are console based bad endings available. Would you like them turned on?" Once again, I did have them on, but there no choices ever appeared during the course of the chapter. So, wondering if there really was nothing I decided to start a new game having finished the chapter and just hit the skip button until anything different happened. Getting to the penultimate chapter where Shion is about to torture Keiichi to death:

Remembering that the choice in chapter four was a simple three screen bad end I prepared myself for something similar to happen this time too. I chose the top option, for some reason the screenshot didn't catch the mouse hovering over the choice, yet it does for every time I moused over a dialogue in the log. Weird.

I thought for sure for a little while here that the dialogue was exactly the same as when the scene plays out regularly. But the skip function only advanced a line at a time showing this was all new dialogue.

Point of order Shion, you absolutely had no intention of sparing him. Just prior to the choice you were going on about how you were going to kill him so good.

At least Shion doesn't really try to justify her decision to kill Keiichi or argue away why and how he betrayed her by defending Mion.

It's interesting how in the narrative of the bad ending Keiichi did give Mion the doll. The rest of the chapter plays out as normal, but here at this moment the game decides to say that Keiichi did actually give her the doll and not Rena. It's an interesting twist, and one I think was made to deliberately make it confusing to put the player/reader off edge so they would doubt the truth of what they've seen or read up until now. You might think this is something to do with the console port of Watanagashi, that there was a similar choice section in that chapter. There isn't, the visual novel is just one unbroken narrative from beginning to end.

[castielfucks]

reported to staff that hitting the "not interested in this post" does nothing and I keep hitting that button on the same posts over and over and they said they did smth on their end so I had to uninstall tumblr, turn off my device, log in on my mobile browser, THEN log in on the app. might as well spin around 3 times and touch my nose and click my heels together.

[meenawrites]

More about Trudy and Spider because I have no chill

SO we don't know much about Trudy unfortunately other than the fact that she was an absolute badass who could fly like nobody's business and had a good moral compass. 

But I've been thinking about what her backstory could possibly be like, and thinking that she would probably reveal it to Spider after she finds him in despair about his parentage. 

I think the scene would go something like this:  (also warning this is written immediately and with no editing so not my best work)

Trudy finds Spider crouched in one of the scientists lab chairs, some video log playing before. She blinked several times, trying to chase the sleep from her eyes. His eyes were wide as he watched. Fat, silent tears shone in the screen's light as they rolled down his cheeks, and the voice finally hit her. That familiar lilt and baritone voice, the commanding air.

"Papa Dragon is–"

She slammed the off button, breathing heavily. Spider jumped at the violent action, and she swiveled the chair to face her. 

Fear was etched into his small face, fear and horror. He hiccoughed as she crouched down to his level, holding his knees to his chest. 

"He's my dad..." he whispered in a voice so small, so broken, Trudy was sure her heart broke with it. He had been bound to find out someday. It wasn't even really a secret, but she had wanted to be the one to break it to him, to gently talk him through it. Perhaps unfiltered access to the lab's computers hadn't been the best move. 

"Yeah, he is," she said delicately. There was no sense denying it, and the kid deserved the truth. 

Spider's eyes welled up with fresh tears again and he buried his face in his knees. The kid didn't cry often, refused to really. He hadn't even cried when he'd broken his leg catching baby Tuk when she'd al but walked off a tree branch. But this, this was what made him cry. 

Trudy's face hardened, and she wrenched Spider's face up to look at her. 

"Hey, kiddo, look at me. Look at me. It doesn't matter who your parents are, alright?"

"This-this is why Neytiri doesn't like m-me. It makes sense," he stuttered, fighting her hold. "She should–"

"Hey! You listen to me, that is not true. You are not your parents, and that damn Neytiri should know that."

Spider was still hiccoughing and trying to pull himself from her grasp, so she grabbed his from his underarms, sat in the chair herself, and pinned him in her lap. 

"You are not responsible for whatever your dad did, you got that?"

"But–"

"Not buts!" she insisted, tightening her hold on him. "I need you to get it through your brain that it has nothing to do with you. You didn't choose who your dad is. No one does."

Spider finally relented, turning his face into her chest and allowing himself to be held. She pressed her nose to the top of his head, rubbing her hands down his arms. 

"What if I become like him?" He mumbled into her tank top. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"You won't," she asserted, shaking him once. "Just because you're someone's kid doesn't mean you'll turn out like them."

Spider's continuing hiccoughs and chest spasms told her he wasn't convinced. 

"I mean, look at me, bud. I'm nothing like either of my parents."

He stilled in her arms at this admission, peeking up at her through tear-clogged eyelashes. 

She sighed, resigning herself to her fate. 

"My dad was a hard-ass who never wanted a girl, so he didn't really know what to do with me. He was what you'd call a workaholic and was hardly ever home. And my mom..." She bit her lip, rolling the words in her mouth. "she had no self-esteem to speak of and let my dad walk all over her. She raised me to be the opposite of everything I am now–don't be independent, stay quiet, stay submissive and you'll find a husband. As if any of that crap had worked for her. 

"And I decided I would be nothing like either of them. I joined the military as soon as I could, which went against all the bullshit feminine standards they wanted me to fit with. I got my education, became the best damn pilot I could, didn't give a shit what people wanted or expected me to be."

She glanced back to the kid in her arms, smiling a bit as she noticed that he was no longer crying. 

"Moral of the story, kiddo: it doesn't matter who your parents are. You can be whatever you want to be. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, you come running to me, and I'll beat them up."

Spider cracked a watery smile at that. 

"What really matters is in here," she said, knocking on his chest. "You've got a good, strong heart. Listen to it, and if you ever doubt it, you come ask me, okay? Cause I've got you, you know that right?"

Spider nodded, one of his hands clenching in the fabric of her shirt. 

"Good. Now let's get your ass to sleep. You're sleeping next to me today, got it, ya rascal?"

She stood before he could respond, his arms looping around her neck as she adjusted his position. 

She'd remind him as many times as she had to that he wasn't his parents, wasn't anything like Quarritch. She could spend her life doing that if it stopped him from crying. 

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 3 • 25 - Hayden

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 3 Masterlist • Next

There are so many unanswered questions that flow through Hayden’s mind. Just a few days ago he met the Recall of someone he used to know, and how that person had made friends with Rewinds who had parts of Starkey. He was baffled when he heard the news talk about how scientists planned on using the parts of Mason Starkey, low and behold they did. 

And then there’s Connor, where is he? Sure, Hayden is pretty confident that his brother, Lucas, goes to the American School of Marseille. However, Hayden knows as much as anyone else that European countries are tiny compared to Western ones, well, except for Russia. 

Connor could be anywhere in France, well not really, admittedly anything past Valence would be a pain to commune to. 

With the subject peeking his interest once again Hayden logs into their social media and home page.

Checking the social media page he finds the picture of the Lacrosse team again, with Lucas Saltries still tagged. Out of curiosity, Hayden clicks on the tag, it links to a page that is surprisingly not private. It seems like Lucas likes filling his page with recordings of his music and screamo makeup looks that would make any parent drop dead. 

There's a video in particular, showing a freeze frame of someone playing an electric guitar behind his drum set, which is visible in every video. Clicking into the video Hayden finds that it’s not just the drums and an electric guitar playing, there’s also the sound of a keyboard playing in the background. 

It takes a while, but eventually, the music stops and to Hayden’s surprise the unmistakable voice of Connor and Risa can be heard.

“You did something different this time.”

“I set the keyboard to have more bass.”

“It sounds good.” A different voice says Hayden can only assume it’s Lucas based on the way it sounds.

Hayden looks at the caption under the video “A bit of Music made with my brother and @Wionplayspiano.”

Finding a link to another account Hayden clicks into it, and the display name reads “Mademoiselle Wion” he soon realizes the entire page is in French, but that’s nothing the “see translation” button can’t fix. 

Hayden finds that nowhere on the page does it mention a first name for Mademoiselle Wion, it gives him a lick of doubt if this is even Risa at all. Perhaps Connor found a new, equally talented girlfriend, and Hayden just remembers Risa’s voice incorrectly. He keeps scrolling, all of her posts are of songs made by popular artists on her own keyboard until he gets to one of her first posts. “A Memoir” it reads, Hayden thinks it sounds familiar, but when Mademoiselle Wion gets to the chorus it hits him like a brick wall. It’s the tune he used to hear Risa play on the piano when he took his breaks from being in the ComBom all day, no doubt, Mademoiselle Wion is Risa Ward, or perhaps now Risa Wion.

Well, it answers one of Hayden’s questions, Connor and Risa are alive, but he hasn’t narrowed down where they are yet. 

He returns to Lucas’ page, the last video looped, something catches Hayden’s eye and he smirks, the guitarist, Lucas’ brother, has a shark tattoo.

There’s no tagged location on any of Lucas’ posts, Hayden didn't think there would be. Brains don’t always run in the family, but if Connor wouldn't give away his location Hayden doesn’t think Lucas would give it away either. 

Hayden swaps tabs to the school’s home page. Lucas’ face as well as his teammates’ flashes in the slideshow presented on the main page, but Hayden is afraid he’ll have to go a bit deeper. Hayden has gotten better at hacking since his first search for Connor. He easily passes into the personnel portal and into the student list, and his stomach drops a little. Hayden feels sick and perverted as scrolls through the list of names, feeling even sicker when tidbits of personal information pop up next to the students’ names. 

He finally breathes a breath of fresh air when he gets to the name Lucas F. Saltries, he clicks into it. The first thing that shows up is his contact list. Claire Saltries, his mother, Kirk Saltries, his father, and Robert Saltries, his older brother. Hayden recognizes the name Robert from the identity Connor was given after the clapper attack, E. Robert Mullard. Hayden writes down the phone number associated with him, saving it for later.

Hayden scrolls down more on Lucas’ info page. And, Bingo! His location of residence, cross-referencing it with an online map, he furrowed his eyebrows, there’s reviews on the residence.

Translating them, they’re reviews from neighbours talking about how nice and quiet the house is despite being a foster home. Looking into a street view Hayden realizes something about the home, there are blackout curtains on all the windows. The gears turn in Hayden’s mind, and they all click together, that’s no foster home, that’s an unwind safehouse. 

After all that thinking Hayden takes a deep breath of air, then immediately squeals of joy. He’s done it, he’s found Connor Lassiter, he does a little happy pace around his apartment before sitting back at his desk to look at the number he wrote down.

Before he types the number in he switches the location of his phone into a server in France near Connor. God forbid he gives Connor’s location away to any secret authority. 

After typing Connor’s, or rather Robert’s phone number, he's met with a voicemail.

“Allo! Vous êtes sur le voicemail de Robert Saltries, veuillez laisser un message après le bip. Hi! You’ve reached Robert Saltries’ voicemail, please leave a message after the beep.”

The beep stalls Hayden, but only for a second. “Hi Con-Robert, Robert, It’s me, Hayden, I’m not actually in France like the unknown number location might give you, I didn't want any of us to be charged. Anyway, I found you!” He sings, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t easy finding you, you covered your ass very well, anywho, nice catching up! Bye!” He ends the call. Hayden lets out another squeal of joy as he prances around, sure he didn’t get to actually talk to Connor but, knowing that somewhere out there, he was able to reach him is just as good of a feeling.

Hayden feels the need to share his newfound information, of course, he can’t share it online, and he shouldn’t necessarily share this information with his networking friends. So unfortunately for Hayden’s random email contact, Roland, he’ll have to do.

He calls up Roland using the phone number attached to his email, this time he actually reaches someone.

“Hi?..”

“Hi, Roland!”

“Oh, Hayden… Why are you calling me?”

“I’ve got some news! I’m not sure if you’ll consider it good or bad.”

“Uhh, ok?”

“I found Connor! Well, Robert, he changed his name to Robert.”

“Like, is he here in the U.S.?!”

“No, he’s in France, I had to do some illegal snooping on websites.”

There’s a bit of silence before Hayden hears Roland’s voice again.

“I think I’d be more concerned if a Rewind didn’t use the muscle memory from my legs to break into my house.”

“What!?”

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, Nero and Sam are fine, the whole dividing thing was a lie made up by the media.”

“Y-you’re just gonna skip past that house invasion comment?”

“I mean it was scary at first, but then I realized it was just Nero, she just wanted to ask me to come to the arcade.”

“Okay…”

“So… how have you been?” Roland asks.

“Well, not much has changed since you last called, you’re aware that I’m, like, a celebrity now.”

“What! No! I just thought ya ran a podcast, I only heard of you through a Rewind.” Roland pauses, “Which reminds me, how do you eat Fun Dip?”

“Did you just say ya and you in the same sentence?” Hayden giggles.

“Just answer the question!”

“Ha! I don’t know, sometimes I use the stick, sometimes I just shovel it in.”

Hayden hears a small mischievous cackle emit from his phone, “Well, I’ve answered your questions, so now it’s my turn to ask, how have you been doing? 

“I wouldn’t say much better than last time, I am starting my new meds today so maybe that’ll make me better?”

“What are they for?”

“My back, it’s in a lot of pain, most of the time, even before I was unwound.”

“So you’re telling me that if someone had just hit you in the right spot, you would’ve been totalled?”

“Angry and totalled… don’t get any ideas.”

Hayden laughs, “I won’t.”

“I’m surprised Connor didn’t realize it when he friggin’ shoved me-” There’s the sound of mouth clicks in the background, then Roland shakily tells him, “Hayden, Hayden I can’t feel anything!..”

[diari0deglierrori]

D:

Hiiiii!!!! @omarfor-mp3 I’m diari0deglierrori, I’m alive and (almost) well, sorry to appear like this out of the blue but I was desperate and I’m feeeling awful and I need to vent so I figured I’d make a new blog to explain a bit. I saw your post about a mutual disappearing and figured it could be me (in the eventuality of it not being about me, feel free to ignore). So! Where do I start.

It all started on a dark January afternoon, the sky was grey and the air- ok I’ll go straight to the point: so I was just chilling, using this app as usual, and then all of a sudden, the Wi-Fi went down for like an hour and I couldn’t use it anymore, so ok, I go on with my life (although very annoyed because I had things to say). So then it seems that the Wi-Fi is back, at least insta is working, so I come back here to make a post about it (I don’t even know if it got published or not though? Something about the Wi-Fi who stopped working right when I was about to watch a movie ?) But when I hit post an error message appeared, the one that usually appears when there’s not Wi-Fi, so I try turning on my phones data and all to make it work but it doesn’t change a thing, I only get error messages. Then foolish little old me thinks it’s only because of a bad connection again so I check everything else to see if they work or not, every other app seems to be working so I come back here and when I check on my blogs they all seem to be gone, only my main’s name appears (it kind of happened once but only lasted about 5/10 minutes) so I start to worry and check other peoples blogs to see if it’s just the app or me. I figure I can go on the trending page, I can search things and go on blogs, so I go on yours and see the post about a mutual disappearing and it hits me. I’m simply gone. My whole life for the past 9ish years, vanished. I’m devastated. Oh but the problems are only getting started! I somehow still think my phone is the main problem, maybe it crashed a bit somehow so I go on settings and turn it off, thinking that maybe it’ll kind of reset things (not like reset reset, you know? Just like when you turn it off and on? I can’t explain right, my brain feels crushed). So I do the usual, turn it off, wait for a couple of minutes and try turning it on again. It does, the screen turns on, it says it’s locked and to swipe up to unlock, which I do. But it doesn’t work, the screen doesn’t move. I touch the buttons and they work just fine, I mean I can put it on mute and stuff, but nothing that needs the screen. So I start to panic a bit, tell people to call it so I can see if it still works, so they do and I see it can ring but I can’t swipe to answer, it’s like it’s frozen or something. But like not completely, I don’t know how to explain. Anyway, long story short I think I broke my phone, I can’t use it anymore, but the screen stays on and the hours go by, as if it was just mocking me. This is when you realize you’re stupid and wished you did a backup before, which I never do because as I said, I’m stupid. So anyway I tried to go log on my tumblr on my laptop but it didn’t work, so I tried changing the password too but then it said that my account got terminated and that I should report it to the staff or something… so I did, I’m waiting to see if they’ll ever answer.

I looked it up and apparently it happened to a lot of people, someone even explained it better than me: 

“Originally it wouldn't load and said I needed to log in. I logged out and attempted to log back in, but it said my email/password was wrong. I tried to change my password and now it says my account was terminated. I've had this account for 10 years.”. 

Same thing happened to me. 

Aaaanayway, I’ve been dying inside ever since, hahahahahahejsfbkand 

(I’m tagging you because of the post btw, sorry to bother) 

[blindrapture]

good god.

the harlequin arc in act 1 of rapture.

had to revisit it today.

I feel like I should..... publicly say things about it. Because I generally stay silent about it otherwise.

It's. Hard-hitting. It's repulsive, it's tragic, it's messed up. That Jordan is willing to be pragmatic about the Harlequin (the person who quite explicitly and extremely abused him) is, and I have this on good authority, one of the single most controversial aspects about the Rapture logs.

I.. don't think I would ever write that arc ever again. I am not interested in ever doing that... sexual of a story again. But, goddammit, that Jordan is controversial insults me. And not because he's a self-insert, but because his pragmatism was right. Every part of it came from a need to survive, an awareness of his own limits, and a refusal to put someone else through what he puts himself through. This also means he wouldn't, and I don't, judge others for being unwilling to act the same way. Rapture isn't a fucking morality tale, a list of instructions for how to Win at Trauma. It's... more like a set of extended metaphors.

The Harlequin represents something dark and familial, the kind of familial that you can oppose but you know not to piss off to their face unless you're damn sure you're never gonna see them again. The Harlequin also is a character who pushes Jordan's buttons and knows she does and isn't used to getting a positive response of any kind. That's... that's part of the horror, the tragic idea that her naivety is what causes the most damage. The same extends to Jordan-- he isn't used to getting that kind of attention of any kind, so for this monster girl to turn up and treat him the right way, he's... he's not gonna run away screaming. He's gonna treat her like she's just misunderstood. It's only when he sees her Literally Perform Acts Of Terrorism that he realizes this is a situation he must Leave. And that's also when he can't, because now Donnie is collateral. The behaviour makes sense.

Later on in the story, like a lot later, there are some parts where Harly is addressed again. She herself is in danger now, and she has no one to turn to, so she turns to Jordan because she knows, if nothing else, she can get him to listen. So she treats him nice, and he starts to see something unexpected: he sees how pathetic she is. How powerless she is when in the face of her own abuser, how much she hates herself for what she's done. He doesn't forgive her, but he may say it to her. He knows she has been neutralized as a threat, and he senses she won't be a factor for much longer. And it's just... sad. She rediscovers her soul when it's too late.

Let me tell you a little secret.

I used the word "familial" earlier and that wasn't an accident. The Harlequin is a poetic image, a reflection of some tangled themes I've had in my brain for a very long time. She is not any one person I have known in my life. No one has done Harlequin things to me, not that extremely anyway, but people have used the same dynamics to exploit and control me before. From a very young age. When I wrote the Harlequin at age sixteen, I did so from a position of already having a working understanding of these dynamics, and where I fit into them. She was one of the first parts in all of Rapture to get a detailed physical description, because I went to the trouble of designing her, because she came to me in a dream after starting Rapture. Her face did, anyway. Her dress sense came from.. a family member. Her hair style and her makeup came from a different family member. And her ending-- in fact the overall fist-clenchingly tragic atmosphere to her Overall Arc-- was inspired by my feelings about my mother. Just as the Beast was, in a lot of ways, a reflection of my father. (this is why the Beast and the Harlequin are a symbolic item.)

So. What I'm trying to say here. There's parts of Rapture that were clumsily handled, improvised on the spot, and frankly shallow. The Harlequin, unfortunately, was not one of these parts. I knew what I was doing there. I did not know how to handle people's reactions to it. And, other things which got fixed aside, I did in fact know not to repeat the Harlequin arc.

.........this was hard to say so openly. I would prefer no one respond to this one. Likes are okay. (Just a preference. If someone has something to say, it's best not to bottle it up. I will do my best to handle it with care.)

[foxdoc]

"Couldn't be simpler," they'd said in the job training.

I watch the single vent fan lazily rotate, piping in stale desert air. The room is a big square tin can, and clearly furnished by a minimalist who skimmed most of the budget. I have a computer from 1993 and two magazines from the fifties for entertainment.

"If someone comes in," the day shift guy had explained, "you ask for their ID. If it checks out, let them in the back. If it doesn't, hit the red button. All there is to it."

A fly buzzes in, the lazy vent fan posing it no threat whatsoever. There's two doors in the front, where I came in and where I'm supposed to be facing, and a door in the back with some blinking lights on the side and no knob or windows. The fly lands on the only table.

"What's in the back room?" I asked.

"Do you have an ID?" they'd asked in turn. I didn't. "Then you won't ever need to know that."

There's no other buildings for two miles, just sagebrush and dirt. My car is parked on a gravel lot out back. Twelve hours a day. Five days a week. Full benefits, generous overtime pay. All to sit in a tin can in the desert overnight.

What the hell is in the back?

I pick up one of the magazines. The only programs I can access on the computer are 3D Pinball Space Cadet and "The Log." The log is just a spreadsheet with a bunch of random numbers that I can't edit. Everything else is locked behind admin restrictions.

I brought a pencil and paper from

home two days ago to do some writing, but when the day shift guy saw me come in with it he'd flipped his lid. Nothing from outside allowed. Certainly nothing that you could record information on. There were very, very strict protocols at play here, he'd said. If you need entertainment, read a magazine or play some pinball.

He is the only other human I'd seen in this room in fifteen days.

I flip through the magazine with disinterest. I'd read it already. Fifteen times. All the ads were for long-discontinued products, all the colors pastel and faded, all the models probably long de-

Wait. She wasn't there before.

I look at the page number. Page 20. The model looks utterly unfamiliar. Or does she? Maybe the pages were stuck together and I hadn't noticed, and day shift just unstuck them. Or I could just be going crazy stuck here.

I shrug it off and read the blurb for the summer wear she's sporting. The photograph is in black and white, so the text describes the vivid baby-blue colors of the sundress and how perfectly it paired with the golden straw hat. All the men, it said, would be falling head over heels for you when you put on this little fuchsia number.

...Fuchsia? Isn't that pink, not blue?

But where I could've sworn it said vivid baby-blue, it now definitely said dazzling pink. Is that photograph slightly different? What the fuchsia is going on here?

I put down the mag and rub my eyes. Clearly being alone at night in a big tin can is not good for the mind. I boot up pinball instead. Day shift has the high score and I'll be damned if he keeps it another day.

The front door squeaks open and I jerk up, the distraction causing me to flub my timing on the flippers. It takes me a full six seconds to register the face of the model from the magazine I'd just put down - the sundress swapped for cargo pants and combat boots and the victory curls now a loosely scrunched ponytail. My jaw falls limp.

"I need some spare parts," she says.

"Sp-spare..." I cough and sputter for a minute, then shake myself out of it. "Um, do you have an ID?"

She walks over, the boots echoing on the hard floor and off the tin walls, and hands me a card. Thalassa Sparks, reads the name. The ID number's in the log.

"Uhm... yup, checks out. Go on in."

She gives me a half smile, then shooes the fly off the blinking lights and taps her ID against them. The door slides silently open.

As she steps inside, I stammer. "Um... do you have a grandmother who worked in modeling?"

She starts, looks back at me. Sees the magazines on the table. Grins. "Sure. Something like that, yeah."

"...What's in there anyway?"

She smiles at me. "You'll figure it out." Then the door shuts. And it's like she was never there.

Secret bunkers full of time machine repair equipment are placed throughout history by time travelers just in case someone gets stuck in the wrong time. You are tasked with manning one of these bunkers

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxxii.b: The Mind, I make it through and then … horror … WHAT THE FUCK!? ... What was on the other side was a bunch of … dead … Reds … they were sitting in a pool of blood somewhat aged but not completely dried yet, about ten to fifteen of them. I stare and walk backward in shock. *Tmpf* *CLANG* I freak out and jump in fear, I had walked into an old empty yellow propane tank … it hit the ground and I once again … was left in shock. I gather myself slowly … then *breath* … ok. I walk over to one of the many work benches and shelves and start to look for the relay that was needed for The Ship. I look and look … nothing, fucking nothing FUCKIN WHAT!?? Where was it!? The fucking Relay is supposed to be in here! It was supposed to be … goddamn it, does no one keep valid fucking records in here? I let out a large *sigh* and then proceeded to one of the computers, I logged into it easily, as someone had just left the password out in the open on the fucking desk, written on a sticky that was a little … worn? I get in and sift through what had to be hundreds of thousands of records … all incredibly sorted day after day, week after week, month after … and so on. As I do I find that there are no real communication units here anymore. What? How is that even possible, last one was … January of last year? What!? That’s not what the records I found had said!? Where could … they be … as I sift and sift … I realize that these units were made to order … they were not, In stock … as previously thought … fuck me. So they aren’t even made yet then, damn it! … Wrath ain’t gonna like this one. I try and find any details on the new ones being made, and well … after some digging I get some files that describe them as being shipped already. *SLAM* DAMN IT!!! … *Sigh* fuck me how could this slip under my damn radar … oh right … we didn’t fucking have any for a long while, That’s right I MADE THE BEST WITH WHAT I HAD AND STILL GOT HERE … No one can do anything around here can they? I haste through some more records and realize the factory is somewhat automated … which means that they had to have some kind of process to just make a relay at the push of a button. I go and find the local actions log, to see if this was the computer to do all of that from … and … no, but it did have a log for other local computers also in the network, only a few actually, so they must have been the other main computers … all with nothing really striking in terms of information, which was … a shame … but then there was a log for computer FCM-2 … it had a bunch of analog inputs logged and some information on everything those fucking inputs were doing … such as … starting the relay production process. BINGO!!!! HAHA! … there it is. There were no direct details on where that computer was, but I could guess roughly … I logged out and made my way past the bodies and through the door, and as I walked through the cubicles again I heard suddenly the door I entered from originally open as well some voices. I JOLT DOWN, And hide behind a few cubicle walls … peaking my head over slightly, as to see who the fuck I was dealing with. It was two Shards … wearing baggy pants and shitty t-shirts that read with some stupid shit on them such as “If Jesus were Mexican he’d turn water to Tequila” and “Cooking and Cleaning isn’t a Relationship green flag, it’s something you should be able to do.” … they opened there fuckin filthy mouths as I slowly lurched my way around the cubicles, trying to navigate closer to the door. “If they wanted something … they’d come and get it … plain and simple” “That’s what I told him, but you know him … never listening and never giving into the facts at hand … shameful fuck.” I think to myself, what a disgusting lot of shit. They walked passed me and the cubicle I was hiding behind, I quickly made haste moving from cubicle to cubicle like a mouse in a maze. [To Be Continued]

[tiredlaoshi]

I Was Downloading Gay Porn So My Uncle Sent Me To University

I Was Downloading Gay Porn So My Uncle Sent Me To University

The place is hot, humid beyond acceptable, noisy—and chaotic. Overall, this place is not something Lan Wangji will be willing to visit let alone spend four years of university.

How did he end up in this place and why is he here if he looks like he will die any minute? Well, it could all be blamed on an ad that floated on Lan Wangji’s computer screen. Lan Wangji went home from school stressed and in a terrible mood. He wanted to let off some steam, but he is not the type to randomly hook up with anyone just because. He is a romantic and he has values, for your information. So, the only logical thing for him to do is to jerk off himself.

He set his bags down on the floor beside his bed. He reached his study desk in three big strides and logged in on his home computer. He quickly typed on his incognito browser the name of his favored gay pornography site. There might be something new and interesting to watch. He was browsing the landing page and did not find anything that piqued his interest, so he decided to type in his favorite keywords. What are those keywords? It stays between him and his browser, but there is nothing appropriate about it. 

Finally, a short video from a freshly made account popped out. From looking at the profile, the model wrote that he was a newbie and exploring his sexuality. He proceeded to say that he was sure he was straight until a few months ago before graduating high school, but an accident with his best friend’s hunk brother made him rethink his beliefs. Lan Wangji had snorted at that because that was how he also had his gay awakening. A half-naked Nie Mingjue walked out of his brother’s room looking for Xichen, droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his hard abs. Lan Wangji ran back to his room as fast as he could and had the most mindblowing wank of his young life with the image of a wet Nie Migjue on top of him.

He continued reading the profile for a few more seconds and decided that the person was interesting. As his profile described, he will be exploring things by himself and with the help of a friend from time to time. He is also asking anyone who would come across his profile and videos to be a little nicer—leave some helpful tips and not comment if they have nothing nice to say. 

Lan Wangji clicked on the sole video on the profile. The video was tagged as amateur—which is fine. The video quality is not grainy and the audio is clear enough to make out that it was filmed in a bedroom. The lighting is perfect and it helps the viewer to put their focus on the subject in the frame. A long-legged young man wearing the tiniest red shorts Lan Wangji had ever seen sat on a gaming chair. It perfectly accentuated his curvy ass and delicious thighs. 

His tiny shorts were paired with a cropped black hoodie that rode up to his torso when he raised his arms to fix the camera angle. Lan Wangji never understood why people wear cropped hoodies, it did not make sense to wear something that will warm you but does not warm your tummy. But now, something clicked in his mind. Yes, cropped hoodies are appealing and possibly might be one of the best things modern fashion has trended.

The internet connection was a bit sporadic today for some reason. Lan Wangji decided to hit the download button for the video; he did not want his wank session to be interrupted by anything. After a minute, the video was at 69% percent completion when the door to his room suddenly opened. He forgot to lock his door.

The doorway offers a clear view of his computer screen and its second screen. Lan Wangji turned his head at a break-neck speed and locked eyes with his uncle. His uncle who was the strictest person Lan Wangji had ever met had the strongest opinion about any debauchery. If he finds out one of his precious golden boys was downloading gay porn and jerks off to it, it will definitely send him straight to the ancestors. With his heart thumping loudly in his chest, Lan Wangji stood up and raised his hands to his uncle.

“Uncle, please, I can explain. Whatever you saw I can explain it.” He is close to crying, his tears are dangerously gathering in his tear ducts, and his mind is running a mile a minute. To his utter disbelief and confusion instead of getting the sternest scolding of his life, his uncle has given him an approving look. “Wangji, I did not know you had already chosen a university to attend. Yiling is far from home and mostly attended by working class and peasant children, but I think its climate may help you shape into a better man. I am proud you want to attend a state university and immerse yourself with the lower classes. This is a good experience to broaden your understanding of the world,” his uncle finished.

What university? 

What Yiling? 

What social classes?

What immersion?

What?

What?

What?

“We will talk about this more when your brother comes home for family dinner this weekend. Finish signing up for the university and send me the confirmation. I will send a letter to the university chancellor, he was a good friend.” His uncle gave him one last approving nod before closing the door. 

He was left there stumped for a minute before he was able to move. Once his uncle’s shadow could not be seen from the gap under his door and his footsteps ceased to be heard, Lan Wangji dropped on his chair. He did not know where his uncle got the idea that he had already chosen a university but he was still thankful his uncle did not call him out for going on a porn site and illegally downloading stuff. 

He lost all his desire to jerk himself off, the anxiety of five minutes earlier had exhausted him too much. With a sigh of relief, he turned back to his computer screen and saw the signup page for a university in Yiling. Lan Wangji did not know whether he would laugh or cry. Who would have known that a pop-up advertisement would save him from being outed to his uncle?

He closed the browser, the video he just downloaded completely forgotten by now and shut down his computer. He slumped on his table for a minute, then rolled to his adjacent bed to sleep. It was an exhausting day, when sleep claimed Lan Wangji, he skipped dinner and did not dream of anything.

When the weekend family dinner came, Lan Wangji had completely forgotten about the incriminating porn video on his computer. He had also forgotten that his uncle told him his application to Yiling University would be the highlight of this week’s family dinner. A big mistake.

His older brother gave him a proud smile when he opened the door to him and his boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, because unlike Lan Wangji—Xichen had been openly gay since high school. At first, it scared him of what it would mean for their family of three but Lan Qiren assured his brother that he would still love him even if he was not happy of his choices. It helped a lot that Xichen was an achiever and of good moral character. It also helped that his boyfriend—Nie Mingjue—was from a good family and a respectable young man himself. It took some time for Lan Qiren to adjust to it, but all-in-all everything went well for them two. 

Lan Wangji, however, is a different case. He has not proven himself enough yet—he thinks. He achieved accolades academically, in his chosen sports, and music. He was praised by most people, or hated by those who envy him. He was another golden boy like his brother. A part of him is scared that his uncle might not understand him or take him seriously if reveals himself now. So, he decided to tell his uncle once he graduated college and started a stable career.

“Wangji, I heard you chose to attend a state university. I am proud of you didi!” Xichen exclaimed once they sat down at the dinner table. “Xichen, don’t get excited too much. You are scaring Wangji,” Nie Mingjue chided but also could not keep off a proud grin on his face. “Ah, nonsense! Wangji-didi knows I am just happy. I always worry that you would not take it upon yourself to explore but here you are. Mingjue, when has my didi grown?” Xichen kept on teasing.

Lan Wangji cursed inwardly. How would he tell his family that he never planned on attending a faraway university? They are all proud of him now; he would hate that he had to break their expectations.

“Gege, about that, I’m thinking of not going there anymore,” he declared to his family.

“Wangji?”

“Oh, didi!”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen both exclaimed at the same time.

“Wangji, what do you mean? Explain yourself,” his uncle hurriedly told him. He could not tell them that it was only a misunderstanding between him and his uncle, but he also could not tell them how they came to this misunderstanding. So, he thought of the best thing to say that he knew was not a lie but also not entirely true.

“Uncle, gege, I changed my mind,” he started. “I thought about it and I decided to stay. Uncle does not have anyone to live with him, and I did not think it would be nice to leave uncle alone,” he finished.

Lan Wangji was proud of himself and his answer. He gave himself an imaginary tap on the back for coming up with an acceptable excuse. Now, his family would not be disappointed.

“Oh, Wangji. I totally understand your qualms. Before I moved out, I also thought about it hundreds of times. It was a hard decision, but I realized I also had to spread my wings and fly on my own. Didi, would it not be possible to change your mind?” His brother is really sweet and understanding, and he thankful for it.

“Gege, I think there would be a better time to do the same, but not now. My time will come,” he reassured his brother.

Lan Xichen turned to Nie Mingjue with a pleading look, but he only lightly shook his head and squeezed their hands together. Nie Mingjue also had a younger brother, but unlike Wangji, he was more outgoing and could make friends more easily.

“Wangji, your brother is only concerned about you. I hope you understand. But whatever you choose, we will always support you,” he said with a reassuring brotherly voice.

“Thank you, Mingjue-gege. I appreciate that.” Lan Wangji sincerely said.

The table was quiet for a few more moments, and everyone was in comfortable silence before Lan Qiren broke it. “Wangji, I understand your concern, and I am grateful you think of me. However, as your brother pointed out, it is time for you to be independent. If I was the only thing holding you back into staying, let me reassure you, I will be fine.”

“But Uncle, it would not be right to leave you,” Lan Wangji protested, but before he could continue Lan Qiren held his palm up to silence him.

“Wangji, it truly warms my heart that you grew into a thoughtful young man. I aged but I am not old, at least not that much. I can take care of myself just fine. You are young, but not too young. It is high time for you to make a name for yourself. Make me proud, Wangji. But do not hesitate to come home when it all becomes too much. I am here and this house will always welcome you back.” 

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji was not able to continue what he was going to say because he had already burst into tears. This was the first time their uncle was openly affectionate to them. His uncle was not cruel but he was also not the type to openly express emotions with words. For the first time in a while, the family hugged each other.

Thinking about all of that back, Lan Wangji resigned himself to attending Yiling University. This place is far from what he was used to—it was everything Guss was not. The streets were bustling with life. There were shops and vendors everywhere. The people were friendly and smiles all the time. The nightlife was also bustling, the city never seem to sleep at all. It was a big adjustment for him.

He walked into the university gate and bumped into someone. He was annoyed, why would people run around and not look at where they were going? “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Are you hurt? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you!” The man apologized to him and checked him out for any hurt.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Lan Wangji said. “I’m really sorry. I was already late for class and this was just the first day. By the way, I’m Wei Ying—a sophomore. I can walk you to your class, how about that?” The man, Wei Ying, offered to him with a blinding smile.

“Sure, I would love that, I’m Lan Wangji.” Attending a faraway state university might not be too bad, Lan Wangji thought to himself while Wei Ying was chattering with him as they walked into the university building.

Inspired by this Tweet

[loudsnapdragon]

hello, i'm writing a very silly stobin and steddie fic set in a sex shop. it is silly. have a look?

BUY LOCAL: STEVE HARRINGTON'S GUIDE TO MODERN SEXUALITY 3/4 chapters. Rated Mature.

Amid the crotchless lingerie and silicone dildoes that litter the floor of Hawkins’ worst and best and only Adult Store, Steve undergoes a very short, and not very stressful sexuality crisis; Robin fails to lose her virginity; and Eddie refuses to admit why he doesn’t use Grindr.

It’s not what Steve expected out of life, definitely not what Steve's dad expected out of his life either, but Steve’s not complaining, well, not until he ends up locked in the stockroom, with nothing more than a bag of genitalia-shaped candy, and a prudish Eddie Munson to keep him entertained, with their least favourite gun-carrying regular tearing apart the merchandise outside.

excerpt below the cut

‘Co-captain’s log, the time is…’ Steve checks his watch. ‘4:47pm, the date is 06/10/23, we are currently locked-’

‘You cannot be serious.’

Steve snaps his head away from the security camera positioned in the high corner of the stock room, scowling at Eddie, who sits jaw-dropped, eyebrows set in a furious line, legs sprawled out on the floor, his elbows wresting on a cardboard box marked Penis-Enhancer 2000.

‘What else am I going to do? Dude, we just have to wait this out. I pressed the panic button. The police will be here soon. Might as well be productive.’

Outside the stock room, there’s a loud thump, a swooping noise, followed by the quiet woosh of air escaping an inflatable. Steve winces. Unlucky Doris.

Eddie pulls at his hair with both hands, his feet bouncing faster. ‘How is that being productive?’

‘It’s how me and Robin pass on notes, don’t be a dick. Just calm down and shut up.’ He turns back round to the camera. ‘It’s the sixth of October, and we are currently locked inside the stock room…’

There’s another bang from outside the stock room, the sound of Rodney’s muffled cursing, then a shelf falling over, a clattering of small boxes hitting the floor. Steve silently mourns his beautifully organised DVD displays.

Eddie clumsily jumps up onto his long legs, belt chains clanking on the cement floor, knocking over a box of skin rags in the process, starting to pace manically around Steve. ‘We’ve gotta do something! He has a gun.’

Steve shrugs from the floor. ‘It’s just Rodney.’

‘It’s just Rodney? How can you be so chill? He’s tearing your store apart!’

Steve rolls his eyes, giving up on his captain’s log. ‘Dude, this is like the third time this has happened to me. I don’t really care anymore. Ms. Scarlet has insurance, she’ll be fine.’

From the sounds of it, Doris will be the only casualty, which is a shame, Steve had grown quite fond of the inflatable sex doll.

Eddie stops his frantic circling around the six-foot square space. ‘This store has been robbed two times already?’

‘Oh, I dunno, probably, Ms. Scarlet seems prepared, but the other robberies weren’t here.’ Steve yanks Eddie down by the shins, because he just can’t deal with the unnecessary panic right now. ‘That was at Scoops.’

‘Who the fuck does a stick-up at an ice cream parlour?’ Eddie says, confused, which is good, maybe if he’s distracted, he’ll give up with the fretting. He settles beside Steve, leather trousers tacky as he wraps his arms around his knees, feet still bouncing.

‘Two guys who massively overestimated the value of vanilla milkshakes.’ Steve says, planting a hand on Eddie’s thigh to stop it shaking, only resulting in Eddie striking it off with a scowl.

Steve laughs, ‘Oh, I forgot there was a robbery at Family Video too, but I wasn’t working that day. And there was this car chase at the drive through, same day that me and Robin got locked in overnight, but that was just the kids messing with us.’

Eddie skews his eyes. ‘Dustin?’

‘Nah, not him. Will and Mike.’

‘Will?’ Eddie asks, tilting his head, surprised. ‘I mean Mike, sure. But Will? I did not expect that for him.’

‘He’s a schemer when he wants to be. He got pissy when I refused to give them free milkshakes on their big date. He pickpocketed the building keys off Robin when she wasn’t paying attention.’

Eddie smiles, feet slowly stilling. ‘Good for him. The boy deserves some mischief.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Steve scoffs. ‘We’d just finished a ten-hour shift. I was exhausted. Have you ever been forced to make an emergency bed out of hamburger buns? Have you?’

Eddie’s eyes glint in the stock room’s dim light, and he laughs as he fiddles with his hair, curled round his finger, long line of his neck white and gleaming; and Steve considers, not for the first time, there’s danger here, in this trapped box. They’re locked here; inside the stock room, their phones lying dead and smashed behind the door, waiting until the police arrive as Steve’s least favourite regular throws a weaponised hissy fit outside.

‘Be honest, was that the worst place you’ve ever fallen asleep?’ Eddie asks, with a knowing lilt.

Steve sighs, smiles despite it. ‘Obviously not. The worst place was last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘Yeah. I swear, my Grindr date’s bed was stuffed full of rocks.’

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back, opens his mouth to speak, stops at the sound of a bullet pinging off the stock room door.

Steve turns to it, bolted from the inside. There’s another bang, a loud crash, then presumably what must be Rodney chuckling to himself.

Steve glances over at the screen with the different security camera views by the light switch, where all the store’s cameras are still very much covered in the silly string Rodney brought along, pink and orange lines dripping over the three of the four views, the fourth one just a grey-scale square in the corner, showing Steve and Eddie hauled up in the stockroom, looking like off-duty actors caught behind the scenes. 

Eddie starts biting his lip so hard it’s going bright red. ‘Fuck. Fuck. He has a gun! Steve, he has a gun!’

Steve pats his shoulder. ‘The door is like, titanium, or something. Ms. Scarlet says it’s bulletproof.’

‘Thank God.’ Eddie exhales, raises his hand to cover Steve’s, skin on skin, then a second later, blushes, and shakes it away. Steve can’t help but smirk.

‘This never happened upstairs, we’ve never had a robbery.’ 

‘Huh. I woulda’ thought a vape store would get tonnes of this shit.’

‘No.’ Eddie says, his legs practically hovering off the floor. ‘Not once. Never had it at the record store either.’

‘Was the record store your only other job?’ Steve asks, trying to find a conversation that will take Eddie’s mind of the madman outside. Probably rude to call Rodney a madman, like he’s an asshole, obviously, but it’s not his fault he has a couple screws loose.

‘Yeah, yeah. Only other legal job.’ Eddie says, unravelling his legs, almost relaxing. ‘Started working there at sixteen, stayed there four years. Then it closed, and… well… you know how my move to the city went after that. But shit man, I can still remember how bummed I was when Andy said he was going to sell the place.’

‘I get it, fucking pain in my ass when Family Video closed.’ Steve says, ‘And Scoops, and Benny’s, and Holloway Press, and Merrill’s farm, and the library, and…’

‘Christ.’ Eddie interrupts. He does that all the time. ‘How many jobs have you had? How did ya’ even get all them?’

Steve doesn’t try counting, he’d need his resume to know for sure. ‘Robin’s good at applications.’

Eddie snorts. ‘You get Robin to apply for all your jobs?’

‘Yeah. We’re a package team, she’s not going anywhere I can’t follow.’

‘Cute.’ Eddie rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his only-slightly shaky knee. ‘Soo how did you end up here? At this wonderful, titanium protected, sex emporium? She sent in an application for you both?’

Steve kicks out his legs and raises his eyebrows. The door remains shut, the barrage of Rodney’s destruction filtering through the cracks.

‘Actually, that was all me.’