#gary university days

[utb-art-dump]

Dr Gary

[itsdefinitely]

haha yeah guys i'm completely fine about episode 7

[not-poignant]

226k in it finally happened, Ef called Gary by his name (in front of Gary)!!!🥳 And it was to APOLOGIZE my hearttt I thought maybe it was gonna be mid-sex fjfjfj. I know you said the hold off wasn't intentional and I might be thr only one who cares (I sent an ask abt it before🙈) but I *do* care so this was very satisfying😍 The apology felt more intimate and grounding bc of it. Ahh. (PS I'll still keep my fingers crossed for a spooked/alarmed/overwhelmed mid-sex 'Gary'🤭)

Ahaaa anon I haven't been keeping track of it at all, lol, so I had no idea it was the first time he's said Gary's name to Gary!

To me it just felt natural that he hadn't yet. He's really not likely to say it during sex (honestly I think it's extremely unrealistic tbh, most people aren't just randomly saying their partner's name during sex or even, frankly, pornography. It's really only in romance novels that it happens with any frequency, and well, I don't write typical romances! Unless someone has a personal kink for it, it's really not happening that often, but if someone does have a kink for it then like, good for them! They can live their best life :D - personally nothing makes me cringe more than 'oh Gwyn, Gwyn, oh GWYn, OH GWYN' and I'm sitting there screaming 'LEARN ANOTHER FUCKING WORD they're literally right there in the room with you' lmao. I hate it about as much as 'oh alpha alpha' and 'oh omega omega' - I know people have kinks for that stuff, but I'll be here firmly in the squick column.)

A lot of the time in my stories when a character uses another character's name, it's often as a show of power. It's why my top characters and dom characters do it so much more than the bottoms. It's a way of gaining someone's attention. In regular speech, people are often very rarely using each other's names to each other, but you'll actually find it happens more in some BDSM scenes, and it's a good way to establish a power dynamic.

The combination of 'people just aren't often doing this' and 'I often use it to signal a power dynamic' just means it really hasn't come up for Efnisien until now and likely may not at any other point, unless he's literally calling out for help, or wanting Gary to stop doing something. Names are an attention-getter, but frankly they're often very unnecessary, because you often have the attention of the person you're in the room with. Like, it did feel natural to write in the moment in that chapter (i.e. I didn't notice it), but it hasn't felt natural until now, and idk when it will again, and I probably won't notice when it happens!

[walmaker-artist]

I remember making this AU concept where it's a cross between both Underfell and Maniac Mansion. I had inspiration from the artwork by Vic the underfell that looked similar to the artwork by Gary Winnick who was one of the co-creators for Maniac Mansion (apart from colour of course).

It's actually pretty old and now being used as filler but I'd show you anyway.

[hana-uranai]

I see some people had posted pics of サンドイッチで１２０分？at one point but not much for Matsutake Works or DENTAKU and I'm just curious if there is any sort of Eiji fanbase on here at all besides sanpun ???????????

[keycomicbooks]

#BrightestDay #24 (2011) #GaryFrank & #RodReis #SwampThing  Cover / Various Artists / #GeoffJohns & #PeterTomasi Writers "Brightest Day" A new age for the DC Universe begins! https://www.rarecomicbooks.fashionablewebs.com/Misc_AC.html#BrightestDay Website Link In Bio Page If Applicable. SAVE ON SHIPPING COST - NOW AVAILABLE FOR LOCAL PICK UP IN DELTONA, FLORIDA

[freshmincedbeef]

one thing fionna and cake season 2 can do that will fix some problems i had with season 1 while also making the story more compelling is making gumball and marshall lee bitter exes that fucking hate each others guts

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

This got brought up again so I do feel the need to share the “Sunny in the Garden State” WIP I have about Sunny going to Gotham and actually making it everyone’s problem, it does help that Gotham is NY based with Jersey vibes since I’ve been to NY recently enough to Write What I Know™️

“Gotham people would totally get fucked in Fawcett.”

Me: oh completely. I agree 100%.

“People from Fawcett would DIE in Goth—“

Me: EEEEEEEEEEE. You’re wrong. Double triple wrong. Fawcett has dealt with too much to be sidelined as off-brand Metropolis. They have dealt with Lady Blaze, Ibac, Sabbac, Arson Fiend, they were stuck in time, they are closer to Heaven and Hell(RoE halves) than anyone else. Gotham would be a cakewalk for them.

[shotmrmiller]

Multiverse part 3

You sat in a small room on a padded chair, with equipment set up around your arm, chest, and fingertips. A polygraph test. That's what you were being forced to take. And to your chagrin, Ghost is in the room with you and Captain Price.

"Try to relax, yeah?" Price commented. He must've noticed your restless leg.

"I'll do that, shall I? I've done nothing wrong, other than exist and I'm being interrogated. Because that's what this is— an interrogation." You finally turn your attention from Ghost to look at Price, who's sitting at the desk by your side. "Tell me, Captain. Did you get this same treatment when you came back after spending all that time locked up in the gulag?"

His dark eyebrows furrow in confusion. A sigh escapes your bitten lips. That's only in your...world, for lack of a better term. Dimension? Universe?

"I haven't been to the gulag here." Yeah, obviously.

With an impatient wave of the hand that doesn't have cables strapped to it, you mutter, "Let's get on with this circus act, then. Ask your questions."

Ghost steps forward, his arms unfolding as if he's about to speak to you, but Price swiftly intervenes, halting him with a raised hand.

"Alright then. Baseline questions first. Name." Ghost gives away nothing when you say your last name is Riley.

It goes like this for a few, then he switches to the control questions, until finally moving on to the relevant ones.

"How did you get here?" I don't know.

"Do you know why you're here?" No.

He pulls up a photograph. "Recognize him?" Captain MacTavish.

Another photo. "Him?" I don't know.

"What do you mean by that?" If that's Roach, I've never seen his face unmasked.

"You're sure you don't know him?" Unless that man's name is Gary Sanderson, no. I do not know him.

Price acknowledges your response with a nod, then shifts his gaze towards Ghost, whose head slightly tilts forward. Returning his attention to you, he retrieves a final photograph. "What about him?"

As you look at the picture, your eyes begin to well with tears, lip trembling violently. A new fracture reverberated through your tender heart, intensifying the ache in your chest. Yes.

"Who is he?" Price softly asks.

"That's my Simon," your voice broke on the last syllable. It was hard to not use a possessive adjective when the face of your husband was in that picture.

Blinking the tears away, you clear your throat. "Anything else, Captain?"

Price purses his lips under his hefty facial hair and responds, "Just a few more questions."

Once finished, you sat unabashedly staring at Ghost in the tiny room. "I wear Roach's tags alongside yours, in honor. He was with you until the very end, and for that, I couldn't be more grateful."

Ghost is completely silent, but you continue talking anyway. "I've been married to you since a bit after you came home on leave that one time. You know the one."

His eyes are emotionless, blank, as he stares at you. But you know him like the back of your hand. You've got his full attention.

"I accompanied you to your brother's wedding. He married a woman, Beth. She was good for him. They had a baby, your nephew, named Joseph. The love you had for him was one of a kind. I had told you later that evening that I dreamed of the day you'd look at our children like that."

With a shuddery breath, you tell him how none of those matters. Because your husband is dead, and you're stuck here. With his counterpart that hates you.

With a hushed click, the door closes shut behind him as he leaves, yet its resounding noise fills the compact room you're in.

You begin to fidget with the sizeable ring that hangs on a thin necklace beneath your shirt— the metal is warm under your touch as if it had never gone cold in the first place.

As if Simon had never taken it off his finger to go find Makarov.

ah theyre short but hurt. much pain.

taglist: @1mawh0re @sae1kie @darkravenqueen98 @chinuneko @thestartitaness @bowtruckleninja @hawsx3 @uyudunmuyavru @prettyoatmeal @arael-asuka @spencerreidisbae123 @beau-min @lovefks @maliakealoha @kit-williams @clear-your-mind-and-dream @theloneshadow24 @wolfieisacat @littlebunie @bloobewy @kkaaaagt @sadsackssss @hypernovaxx @halobaby @lildemon475 @animarix @just-pure-trash @catatemyslideshow @hayleybarnesx @sasagehoes @thigh-o-saur @youdontknowe @destroyer-of-za-warudo @maxisqq @k4marina @onlineoutcast

[woof-verine]

this is a niche headcanon but I think Wade would be a really good Dungeon Master. His mind and mouth run a mile a minute, he’s really good at thinking on the fly, and he also can really obsessively plan shit out, which are all grey traits for a DM. I think his ADHD ass pirated the DnD rulebook on a whim and then whoops! He’s read it all in a single day and now he’s binge watching Critical Role and reading the DM’s guide and planning out dungeon maps in his mind etc etc.

Logan comes home to Wade sprawled out on the floor with his computer, a notepad, and like 5 books all open around him and is like —

“Fuck is all this, bub?”

“Oh! It’s a thing called Dungeons and Dragons. It’s total nerd shit, but lucky for me I’m a total nerd, so! I just got into it today but it’s basically a role playing table top game where you—“

“I know what it is.”

“…you do? Because no offense, Logie bear, but you are, like, ancient, and I don’t think they had this when you were growing up. Unless Gary Gygax is secretly immortal, too, which could totally be a possibility now that I think about it.”

“No, uh. I played it once. With the kids at Xavier’s back when… back when I was in my old universe.”

“Oh. Well… if you ever want to play it again, I’m home-brewing a campaign and I’m gonna see if Yukio and Negasonic Teenage Butthead wanna play.”

“When did you say you got into this again?”

“Today.”

“Right.”

And then Wade ropes Yukio and Negasonic and Laura and Colossus into playing with him, and Logan stays out of it but eventually after a couple sessions they all gang up on him and peer pressure him into joining. He thinks he won’t have any fun really besides spending time with people he likes, but then he’s kind of blown away at seeing Wade DM — he’s so animated, great at improving and keeping things fun and interesting, finally finding a way to put his propensity to talk and talk and talk to good use, and Wade just looks so damn happy doing it too that Logan can’t really help but get into it.

So then he ends up playing DnD every Thursday evening.

[moolthecow]

i ain't gonna sugarcoat it.

[not-poignant]

Hey hey! I’m not sure if this has been asked yet, but how do female alphas work in Underline the Rainbow? <3

Hi anon!

So Crielle exists, and she's a woman peak alpha w- a uterus, so we'll start with her. :D

This is what's said about her and alphas in general who have uteruses in the story (chapter 55 - Research):

It had been hard for Crielle to get pregnant. Efnisien was sure one of the reasons Fenwy Laboratories existed - back when it was a small, boutique lab - was to create synthetic larentin to help alphas and peak alphas with uteruses conceive and carry their child to viability. Alphas almost never carried a child for the full forty weeks, and miscarriages and premature birth were incredibly common. Peak alphas with uteruses were considered barren by default and couldn't get pregnant and carry to viability without heavy synthetic hormone supplementation. They often needed to start hormone therapy two or three years before trying to conceive.  Efnisien respected Crielle's work in the field, she was a pioneer and built upon her grandmother's nascent science. He supposed Crielle thought that doing the opposite - giving synthetic ardolphogen to an omega to see what happened - would have seemed incredibly normal to her.  Gwyn was Crielle's miracle baby, because she'd miscarried at least three times, because she carried him to 39 weeks, which was such a rarity that she'd volunteered herself as a case study in a scientific paper before she withdrew her consent from the project and wrote the paper herself. After all, it was her laboratory, her chemicals, and she was the subject, and Gwyn was healthy. A perfect peak alpha. 

--

Beyond struggling to give birth, everything else is the same. Like we know Crielle could do incredibly effective directives, she could spike her pheromones, she could use alpha persuasion, everyone in the house (including her alpha husband Lludd) respected her.

Women alphas + alphas with uteruses are the same!

In terms of physical characteristics it'd be the same as alphas who are men - they are generally taller and stronger, and they have very charismatic / compelling personalities.

We also know that Gary's mother is an alpha, and that she worked in animal rehabilitation, so aside from being strong, they can also be compassionate and empathetic, just like guys can be.

Idk if you're looking for anything else specific! They 'work' like alphas, their hormones just make it harder for them to bear children to full-term.

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

[see-arcane]

Friends. Fiends. Fellow Dracula Dailiers and assorted undead.

I have some hypotheticals for you:

(Explanatory ramble below the cut)

Short version: I would love to have some real Dracula merch.

Long version: I cannot stand the fact that there is no real Dracula merch*. The Vampyres is obviously all on me as far as getting things made, being my own skinny little indie book. But it’s genuinely driving me nuts that the only Dracula stuff around is from Universal, Coppola’s fanfiction, or Castlevania, and none of it features the actual protagonists of Dracula. There’s nothing for the book! Nothing for Jonathan, period, and Mina’s stuck trading spit with Gary Oldman on Hot Topic t-shirts. Hell, Dracula himself isn’t even Dracula! He’s always Count Suaveman Sexypire instead of the bat bastard I know and loathe. It’s miserable. So, I want to give this a try.

I’ve submitted a request to Makeship to see if they’ll collaborate with me for a campaign. It turns out it’s a bit of a ‘cool kids only’ deal, so there’s every chance they’ll pass on it, (Tumblr wasn’t even an option on the What Social Media Do You Hail From, Content Creator? bit of their questionnaire, so that’s telling.) But they’re supposed to get back to me with a Yes or No in ten business days, so we’ll see what happens. If they pick up my project, that would allow the plushie of choice to be crowdfunded without a major monetary blow to anyone and a guarantee of a good quality product. If it doesn’t reach its goal within the campaign period, everyone gets their money back.

If Makeship doesn’t work out, I’ll go sniffing around for other options. Maybe see if there are any good stationery makers to check out too. Feel free to send recommendations my way!

So yeah. That’s about it.

I just want to fill the void where a cuddleable little Harker and a strangleable little Dracula should be is that so much to ask?

*Not counting the cool stuff @re-dracula has in their shop. Thank you for the coziest coolest foul bauble of a t-shirt.   

[ai-manre]

As a veteran of westeros.org, it's so funny that Jon and Dany being together is now considered by many as a stepdown for Jon.

Back in the day, if you suggested Jon and Dany get together, most people used to accuse you of being a rabid Jon stan trying to make him into a Gary Stu who gets everything, claims and dragons and the love of the most beautiful woman in the world.

And from my observations from then till now (my personal observation, there might be outliers), there are mainly two types of jonsa shippers that used to exist then (and evolved in number now):

1) those who are actually Sansa stans and want her to have the best guy possible. In-universe there are many great guys like Willas Tyrell, but at a narrative level, Jon is one of the big damn heroes who is also able-bodied and likely good-looking

2) A extreme type of Jon stans who really don't want Jon to get together with a woman who is his equal. On westeros.org and reddit back in the day, they used to really hate on JonxDany and their rhetoric would make it clear that it was because that would mean Dany wouldn't be the villain whom Jon will defeat and from whom he will take everything. Instead, she will be his equal or even his superior, who has equal or more narrative importance and messianic potential in the story. That they both might be Azor Ahai and not Jon alone. Many such stans much preferred Jon get together with a more "passive" and "safe" woman who would always be secondary to him and that Dany would be a villain instead.

[hbyrde36]

It's Only Forever

It has been an absolute joy to write this big bang fic over the last few months, and I'm SO excited to finally get to share it with the world! I could not have done it without my amazing beta @penny00dreadful, always going above and beyond the call of duty to cheer me on, and help make this story the best it could be. Thanks as well to @hitlikehammers, and of course my official unofficial cheerleader @pearynice!

Featuring art in this chapter also by @penny00dreadful!

[Penny Art Link] and @/SissayeRys [Art Post Link]

R: Mature | WC: 4427 | | Ch 1/8 | Read on AO3

Chapter 1: As The World Falls Down

Steve was running late getting home.

Literally running, because his last ever basketball practice had gone long with everyone wanting to say goodbye to the departing seniors, and he was supposed to be home an hour ago to babysit his little brother.

Not that anyone asked if he wanted to watch the stupid nerd, It’d just come to be expected of him. He'd run into a bit of a dry spell lately as far as dating went, and grown tired of playing third wheel to Tommy and Carol, but after one too many Friday and Saturday nights spent at home, his Mom and Gary seemed to have decided he was now at their disposal every weekend to watch Dustin while they went out for their fancy dinner parties. 

Which he wasn’t bitter about, or anything. 

It’d been overcast all afternoon, the smell in the air all but promising rain, and just as he was cutting through the last backyard with his own house coming into view, the sky opened up, soaking through him to the bone in seconds.

“You’re late.” His mother said, scowling from the top of the porch steps with her arms crossed over her chest. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Sorry,” Steve grumbled. He’d forgotten to plug in his phone last night and its battery had died by fourth period. “It’s not my fault. Practice–”

“Well don’t stand out there in the rain, you’ll drip all over my nice clean floors.” She cut off his explanation, turning on her heel and striding into the house.

It was a little late for that. Water was already running from his sopping shorts down his legs, but Steve still rushed along behind her, kicking his mud-coated sneakers off by the door to try and minimize the damage.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Steven. Your stepfather and I go out very rarely–”

Lie.

Steve rolled his eyes at her back as she turned to grab her handbag off the foyer table. 

“–And you know I only expect you to babysit when it won’t interfere with your own plans.”

“Like you care about my plans,” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose as she adjusted the purse resting on her shoulder. “Go take a shower and check on your brother. He's in his room. Gary left some cash on the kitchen table so you boys can order a pizza for dinner. We should be back around midnight.”

Steve nodded curtly and turned to head up the stairs, but paused, looking back over his shoulder when she called to him again. 

“Oh, and Steven?”

He managed to hold in his sigh, but only just. 

“Yes, mother?”

“Don’t indulge him too much about that fantasy game, whatever it’s called. He’ll never live up to his potential with his head stuck in the clouds like that.”

No problem there. 

Steve had no interest in Dustin’s Dungeons and Dorks game anyway.

Again, he simply nodded, and this time watched her leave, waiting until the front door closed behind her before taking the steps up to his room. 

As much as he loathed babysitting, it was infinitely better than being dragged along as a show and tell object, like he’d been in the past. A pretty trophy to prove that divorce or not, she was still the perfect mother. Look, I raised the co-captain of the swim team! The captain of the basketball team! He’s sure to get into an elite university one day, just you wait and see!

And sure, it was a lot, but she just wanted what was best for him, right? Even if it was a little… suffocating at times.

But, in the end Steve hadn’t done that—had he? Nope! Here he was, set to graduate high school in just a few short weeks, and had gotten exactly zero acceptance letters.

A “gap year”, they called it. He was taking a gap year to discover himself, to travel. That was the lie his mom and Gary would tell their friends when asked which Ivy League school their eldest son would be attending in the fall.

It was kinder than the truth, that his GPA and test scores were no match for the candidates he was up against, no after how hard he’d studied, that he hadn’t caught the eye of even one athletics recruiter. 

He was good, but he wasn’t the best—in anything. 

He couldn’t even attend the local community college with Tommy and Carol to fill his time. The deadline to apply had come and gone, with his mom and step-dad staunchly refusing to let him submit the paperwork. No son of theirs would lower himself to attending the public school equivalent of higher education. 

It left Steve in a rough spot. His chances at getting into what his parents considered a good school wouldn’t be any better in a year's time, and amidst his failure he felt like he’d been written off, his mom and Gary now focusing all their efforts on their youngest son, the one who still had the chance at a proper future.

As much as it pained Steve to admit, he actually liked the kid, loved him even, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous about the fact that Dustin still had time. He had his whole adolescence ahead of him, while Steve felt stuck, and more than a little lost. 

It was the one shred of truth in his mom’s gap year nonsense. Steve did want to discover himself—yearned for it. Eighteen years on this earth and he didn’t have the first clue who he was, or who he wanted to be. He’d been too busy trying to live up to others’ expectations.

Once upstairs Steve showered quickly, threw on a fresh pair of sweatpants and his favorite yellow sweater, and crossed the hall to Dustin’s room. 

“Steve!” The kid’s face lit up the second he came through the door. “Hey, do you remember that campaign I was telling you about?”

Steve raised his head to the ceiling, praying for patience.

Here we fucking go already.

Dustin barreled ahead, undeterred by his lack of response. “You know, the one with the goblins and the Goblin King who comes to this plane and steals children away? Well, technically he only comes when someone wishes for it. So I guess it’s not exactly stealing but that’s part of the trick, right? And–” 

“Yeah, yeah, I vaguely remember that I guess.” Steve finally jumped in waving a hand, knowing if he didn’t Dustin would keep going on-and-on until the polar ice caps melted, and the sea level rose to the point that their house was underwater.

The kid grinned broadly. “I’ve been working hard on it every night this week, and I think it’s finally ready to play! What do you think?!”

“You want—me—to play your nerd game?” 

Dustin’s smile faltered around the edges. “Yeah, I mean, I know it would be better to play with more people, but I thought—”

“You think more players would make this appealing to me somehow?” Steve asked, incredulous. He crossed his arms, only to drop them back down to his sides immediately, shuddering with the realization that he was doing a perfect imitation of his mother.

“But, when I told you about it before you said it was cool!”

Steve sighed. He probably had said that, but in his defense he hadn’t actually been listening. 

Time for a new tactic then. 

“Dustin, you know how our parents feel about this stuff.”

“Why do you always take their side?!” The younger boy shouted.

“I-I don’t!” Steve sputtered. “They just want what’s best for you, and–”

Dustin scoffed. “That’s bullshit!”

“Buddy, come on–”

“No! You just want them to ruin my life like they did yours!"

Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen red so fast. He balled his hands into fists, fuming, and turned to leave without another word.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it!” Dustin called after him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Don’t go, stay and play with me… please?”

“I wish your stupid game was real. I wish the goblins would come and take you away!” Steve hissed through gritted teeth before slamming the door behind him. 

Was it childish? Yes. But at least in his effort to have the last word, he’d gotten the creatures’ name right. 

He was pretty sure.

Steve ran down the stairs, stomping his feet on every step along the way in another juvenile display of anger that he hoped Dustin could hear. 

Itching for something—anything to distract himself from the words Dustin had thrown in his face, he slid some shoes on and took the trash out to the curb for morning pick up, the rain having slowed while he was in the shower. It did nothing to slow the spiraling of his thoughts.

Was his life really ruined? 

Had he made a mistake in following his mother’s direction?

Or was it his own fault for not working harder, not being good enough? 

Was it too late to try for something different?

Steve puttered around the kitchen for a while, killing a little more time before finally calling to order their pizza, and when he felt like he’d cooled down enough to not throttle his kid brother, went back upstairs to check on him. 

“Alright, the pizza should be here in thirty, and If you want, I guess we can play until—” Steve began as he opened the bedroom door, but cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing that Dustin wasn’t sitting where he’d left him. 

“Dustin?” He called out, stepping further into the room. The kid had to be in there somewhere.

A thump over by the bed caught his attention, and Steve turned to see a sizable lump wriggling under the comforter. “Gotcha, you little shit.” He whispered, tiptoeing over as quietly as possible before flinging the covers off to reveal… nothing.

How had the shrimp pulled off that trick?

Steve scrambled around to the other side of the bed, convinced he’d find the boy crouched beside it on the floor, or even hiding under it, but he was nowhere to be found. 

“Okay,” Steve chuckled nervously. The hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention, and his upper lip was starting to sweat. “I give up, you can come out now!”

A sudden and heart-stoppingly loud crack of thunder made him jump, startled, and a flash of lightning seconds later, followed by the room falling into darkness around him as the power went out, was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

“Shit.” 

Steve ran over to the light switch on the wall, flicking it up and down to no avail. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears, panic threatening to overtake him, but not quite loud enough to drown out the distant sound of giggles somewhere in the shadows. 

“This isn’t funny, Dustin!” He shouted in the vague direction of the sound.

A muffled bang, and a crash on the opposite side of the room had him swinging his head around again. How was the kid making it sound like he was everywhere, and also nowhere at once?!

“Aren’t you getting a little old for hide and seek?!” 

Steve lunged for the old bay window that took up almost the entirety of one wall of Dustin’s room, intent on throwing the drapes open to let in some moonlight, but before he could reach it the window burst open, letting in a rush of cool wind, sending the curtains billowing and the shadows dancing around him. 

From one moment to the next Steve blinked, and where before there was nothing but the damp window ledge, now stood a boy the likes of which he’d never seen before. 

A riot of dark, unruly curls fell around a pale, pretty face. His deep brown eyes were lined in charcoal, with a silver shimmer painted artfully above, accentuating their already otherworldly beauty. He wore a top of leather armor, like something straight out of medieval times, or one of Dustin’s fantasy novels, and skin tight pants that looked buttery soft, hugging the contours of his hips, calves, and thighs, as if they were painted on, drawing special attention to a certain rather prominent attribute that had Steve looking quickly away, his cheeks positively flaming. Slung over it all was a long cloak that glittered in the dim light. The color so dark blue that it was almost black, with a high fluted collar.

Steve swallowed hard, feeling suddenly lightheaded, like he was about to pass out.

“W-who are you?” He asked.

“You know who I am.” A deep, husky voice emanated from the stunning figure’s throat. “After all, you are the one who called for me.” 

“The Goblin King?” Steve's mouth fell open, his own voice full of doubt and disbelief.

Not only for the fact that none of it was supposed to be real. It was just a stupid game, wasn’t it? But shocked too because goblins were meant to be small, grotesque, monstrous creatures, as far as he knew, and none of those were words he’d use to describe the walking wet dream who’d just broken in through his little brother’s window. 

The Goblin King’s plush lips spread into a wide grin. 

“Not what you were expecting?”

Steve mentally shook himself. He had to focus, Dustin was missing for fuck’s sake. “What did you do to my little brother?”

“Exactly what you asked me to do. I took him away.”

“B-but I didn't mean it!”

The boy gave a gallic shrug. “What’s said is said, sweetheart.”

Though he knew it was only meant to be condescending, a thrill ran up Steve’s spine involuntarily at the pet name. He pushed the feeling aside, shouting, “Bring him back!”

The Goblin King pursed his lips, unimpressed.

Steve cleared his throat. “Um, please?”

“Go back to your life, Steve. Hang out with your friends, play the good son again. Forget about your brother.”

“I can’t!”

“Sure you can! Look, I’ve even brought you a parting gift.” The Goblin King raised his hand, which Steve was sure had been empty before, and held up with the tips of his fingers a perfectly clear flawless sphere, a little larger than a billiard ball.

“What is it?”

“A crystal.” As The Goblin King spoke he began to weave the ball through his fingers, rolling it back and forth along the surface of his hand in a way that appeared to defy gravity, and Steve fought hard not to be mesmerized by the display. 

“If you look into it just right, it’ll show you whatever you want, your wildest dreams even. But something like this?” The man paused, raising an eyebrow as he stilled the crystal and held it out like an offering. “I wouldn't give this to just anyone—say, a pathetic boy who happily spends his nights with his whiny little brother. Give him up, and you can have it.”

“No,” Steve ground out, well aware that he was being baited. And he refused to fall for it. 

“You don’t want to do this, trust me.” The King shook his head. “You’re no match for me and my goblins.” 

“He’s my brother, I have to get him back!”

“Very well.” The Goblin King tossed the crystal skyward where it vanished into thin air, and jumped down from his perch on the window sill, tilting his head as he studied Steve's face. 

Steve held himself carefully still, caught between wanting to shrink away from the other boy, and a strange desire to lean in close to him. 

“You want your brother back?” The Goblin King began, turning to point out the still open window behind him and the view beyond—no longer the night sky and the backyard Steve had known for most of his life, but something entirely different, a stretch of valley, mostly dead and barren, and just beyond that…

“He’s there. At the center of the Labyrinth, in my castle beyond the Goblin City.”

Steve blinked rapidly, taking a few steps closer to the window. He’d never seen anything like the intricate maze before. It was massive, made up of various levels of high walls, and hedges, and who knew what else. And set right in the center of it all was a tall stone castle. 

“Still want to look for him?” The King asked.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “It doesn’t look that hard.” 

The enchanting boy began to pace a slow circle around him, and when Steve turned his head to follow the movement, he realized with a start that they were no longer standing in Dustin’s bedroom. The window was gone—the house was gone. He was in that place, standing on the dry dusty grounds that surrounded the Labyrinth, about half a mile from its perimeter. 

“Harder than you think.” The Goblin King gestured down at Steve’s wrist, pointing at the watch he wore there. The hands on it spun wildly as he watched, then all at once came to rest at the top, where an extra hour had appeared on its face. “And time is short. You have 13 hours, one for every year of your little brother’s life, to solve the Labyrinth before he becomes one of us, stuck in the goblin city forever.”

“Forever?!” Steve gasped, raising his eyes to find only empty air. 

The Goblin King had vanished without a trace, and Steve had no choice but to start walking, the sound of his watch ticking its countdown making each step feel more urgent than the last.

As he had done so many times before, Eddie sat back on his throne, legs draped across the arm of it, sulking over the monotonous reality of his existence. 

The Goblin King.

It should have been a dream gig. 

There were parts he found enjoyable, of course, but all-in-all it was lonelier and far more boring than he could have ever imagined. He quickly grew tired of what little entertainment was provided by the plethora of creatures he was now responsible for ruling, and it didn’t take long before he’d explored every nook and cranny of the Labyrinth—his Labyrinth now—to the point where he knew it backwards and forwards, and could find his way to any place within its walls with his eyes closed, with or without magic.

Chrissy’s appearance had been a welcome surprise. Another stolen child left to rot in the Goblin City—one more in a long list of things his predecessor had neglected to mention before he fucked off to god knows where—she had been living among the citizens as one of them for years, unbeknownst to Eddie. Until the day she’d shown up on the castle steps asking to speak with The King about some neighborly grievance or another. He no longer recalled the reason for her outrage but he did remember being impressed by her.

They became fast friends, the only two humans living amongst the wild creatures of the realm. Well, former humans was probably a more accurate descriptor. Surely Eddie was something else now, considering he hadn’t been able to do magic before he became whatever he currently was, and neither he nor Chrissy seemed to be aging at a normal rate. His humanity, or lack thereof, wasn’t something he usually liked to think about too much.

It was wonderful for a while, finally having a real friend by his side, someone he could be himself with, not feeling the need to put on the act of King with her like he did with the goblins or the rest of his subjects, but eventually even Chrissy’s companionship wasn’t enough to fill the gaping void in his chest.

So here he was, sprawled on his throne, swirling a few of his crystal balls around in his hand as he stared into them, looking for something he couldn’t put words to, while watching the other world go by, when something caught his eye—a pretty face with a body and voice to match. He was playing basketball, of all things, and Eddie had never understood the draw of sports before, but he could certainly see the appeal of this particular boy in those sinfully tight little shorts. 

It became a habit after a while, to look in on him every now and then… for research purposes.  

Steve, the name Eddie came to know the other boy by through listening in, was a baffling specimen. As nice as he was to look at—and he was very, very, nice to look at indeed—he was also a bit of an entitled asshole, at his worst around his friends and in school, through classes and sports alike. He became a slightly different version of that guy at home when faced with his parents, and yet another when he spent time with his little brother, who he seemed to hate one minute and love the next as though he couldn't decide one way or the other. 

Then there was the Steve he was when he was by himself. 

Alone in his room with no one around to observe—that he knew of, anyway—Steve was quiet, contemplative. At times Eddie thought he might even be lonely? Which just seemed like a wild concept considering the boy was, more often than not, surrounded by friends and family. 

It pissed Eddie off a little, to be honest.

Here Steve was with the world laid out at his feet. A nice house, a brother who looked up to him, parents who were there, maybe bordering on overbearing sometimes but was that really such a bad thing? Born with a silver fucking spoon in his mouth, and he still wasn’t happy. He didn’t seem to appreciate any of it.

But no matter how much the other boy annoyed him, Eddie couldn’t seem to stop watching, wanting to know more—see more—look his fill, and unravel the puzzle that was Steve Harrington.

Then one day, it happened.

The thing Eddie had been equal parts looking forward to—if only to break up the tedium and escape his own realm for a while—and dreading since the beginning of his tenure as the Goblin King. 

Someone made a wish.

And he was duty bound to see the deal through. He was pretty sure he had wiggle room, but the basics were clear: steal the child, explain the terms, and if the guardian chose to play the game and fight for their child’s return, then play the game he must.

Eddie stood in the middle of his closet, discarded clothes thrown haphazardly around him, and knew he was running out of time. The goblins were anxious to get to work and do their part.

“What are you even doing in there?” Chrissy shouted from the other room. 

She’d been out there waiting for him, judging him, while he swiped on a bit of eye makeup, teasing his hair a bit for good measure, and changed his outfit at least three times, looking for just the right ensemble to help him pull this off. He sighed, looking down at himself—leggings and leathers, It would have to do. 

Eddie poked his head out into the bedchamber. “Uh, getting dressed? What does it look like!” 

Chrissy was lounging on top of his bed, her head propped up while she read over a small stack of scrolls. There were hundreds of them lying around the castle, tucked into desk drawers, shoved in corners, collecting dust on bookshelves, and Chrissy had taken it upon herself to read as many of them as she could to figure out how things worked around here so they could make the most of it. It was slow going, admittedly, Goblin being her second language and all, but she was getting there, and had already uncovered many tricks that were about to seriously come in handy. 

She shot him a sharp look, eyebrows raised.

He grumbled wordlessly, quickly ducking back into the closet to lace up his boots and throw his favorite cloak on for good measure, before finally stepping out.

“Took you long enough,” she said, throwing the roll of parchment she was reading aside. 

“Can’t rush perfection, darling. I have to make sure it all sends the right message.”

“Why, because it’s your first time going back?”

“That, yes. But also—” Eddie looked down, nervously tying, and untying, and retying the fasteners at his neck until his cloak hung just so. “I can’t believe it, but It’s him, Chris.”

“Who?”

“Steve.”

“Oh,” she squeaked in surprise. “The guy you’re always creeping on while you fondle your balls, or whatever?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I am not creeping, I am observing. How else am I supposed to keep up with the times when I'm stuck here?”

“Sure, Jan.”

“I’m going to assume that’s one of those references I don't understand because I've been here since the dawn of time.”

“The eighties were hardly the dawn of time, Eddie.”

“Some days it feels like it,” he groaned, flopping himself down on the pillowy-soft mattress next to her. “How do you know so much about pop culture anyway?”

It was a genuine question, one he'd asked many times before with no luck. She’d been in the Labyrinth much longer than he had, and yet somehow still had a better grasp of the modern outside world. 

“You have your ways of keeping up with the times, and I have mine.” She gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Now, get up and get a move on. You have a job to do, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t have to patronize me,” he huffed.

“And you don’t have to wear those ridiculous collars, but here we are.”

Eddie jumped back up to his feet, slapping a hand to his chest in mock horror. “You wound me! The clothes are the best thing about this job! They’re cool!”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “To nerds.” 

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? Your extensive collection of feather boas?”

She was stalling. 

They both were.

Eddie snapped his mouth shut abruptly without another retort, swallowing hard as he backed his way to the door, wishing he could take her with him for moral support.

But Chrissy was right. He had to go, and he had to go now before he lost his nerve. 

“I-I guess this is it. I’ll be back soon with the child,” he said quietly.

She nodded, offering him an encouraging smile as he slipped out. “And I’ll be right here to make sure no one scares him too badly.”

Chapter 2: Into the Labyrinth

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