#i might be tagging a high school whoops

[lemxonsol]

“HeadShaker Nie”

LIKE MY TWITTER POST

[pearlore]

@eydilily 's gempearl designs r so gorgeous i had to draw........ also a swap?? ft. some nzsl bc i was briefly possessed by the spirit of. hands.

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

[aliorsboxostuff]

I went insane on this self indulgent run in trying to get back into writing so here, a House x Wilson and Male!Reader son fic cuz i see House as a.... complicated figure in my life 💀

Menace

Tags: Greg House/James Wilson, Son!Reader, A/B/O Dynamic, Alpha!House, Alpha!Wilson, Alpha!Reader, Younger Reader, Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, Lisa Cuddy, Fluff, Crack, No Smut, for shits and giggles, idk abt hospital rules whoops, inaccurate medical terms, medical malpractice, malpractice MD, Established Relationship, Between S1-S3

All those 'Wilson has a Wife at home!' thing was all an innuendo. They're married. and they have.... a son? Come read as the ducklings find out how much of their boss's life they missed!

It was early in the morning. 

Foreman had just entered the office while Chase was eating a bagel. Cameron was making her morning tea and the three were catching up over the weekend. They saw Dr. Wilson passing by and they waved at him, the man nodded and smiled shortly before he continued to his office. Chase says something about last week's case which Foreman laughs at, Cameron rolls her eyes before she takes a seat at the filing desk. 

“We’re only starting the day and you're already filing down House’s stuff?” Chase tilts his head with a smirk, the brunette sighs while her hands are busy with a group of blue files. 

“It’s not like he ever does it himself,” She answers as she sits. “Might as well chip around it,”

The computer boots up slowly when Foreman approaches the mountain of files. He picks one up and flips it open, his face scrunches in confusion. “This was… 2 months ago?”

Foreman levels his colleague with a stare at which Cameron only sighs. He deems it a suitable answer so he drops the file, busying himself with Chase instead. 

Half an hour into meddling about, waiting for their boss to arrive, a sharp knock breaks the team's attention from each other's conversation. 

Standing outside their meeting room is someone they're unfamiliar with. Not someone new to their department judging by their leisurely clothes, it went straight to someone fresh out of high school. However, what caught them off-guard was the jacket the man was wearing. It was House’s jacket.

They have a tall stature, though with how they’re slightly bowing his head, he levels just at Foreman's height. Something about his eyes resembles too much of a doctor they know, sending a shiver down Chase’s spine.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, is this Dr. House’s office?” He asks, a small unsure smile on his lips. Foreman cocks a brow while Cameron and Chase shared a look. 

The boy blinks, holding a file folder in his hand. “I was just told to bring this to his office,”

He shakes the file slightly, his friendly smile unwavering. Cameron was the first to blink and immediately shuffled to handle the folder. When she approaches the boy, he stands straight once his anxiety ebbs out, and something oddly familiar suddenly flashes through her. The boy's scent has the burnt woody undertone House has. Her brain quickly connected it with House’s jacket he was currently supporting yet it was too strong and just different enough to not be another Alpha’s scent that stuck to the boy. Cameron subtly breathes to confirm it's the boy's scent. She stutters through her words, “I-i’ll get this through to him, he uh- he hasn't arrived yet,”

“Oh I know,“ He waves a hand. “I'm only here for a visit but I ran into Dr. Cuddy and she handed me this, she said she’s too busy to bother him herself,” 

The boy laughs, a slight crinkle on the bridge of his nose. Cameron had to choke back a gasp, suddenly digging blunt nails into the case folder. The whole room was silent aside from the melodic laugh. The laughter dies down eventually as the boy gathers himself. 

“Well that's my only reason to be here, I should get going,” he nods politely and bids them a short goodbye before leaving the room. 

Another beat of silence. 

Chase perks up. “I wasn't the only one that thought that was odd… right?”

“Why was he so…” 

“Tall? Yeah, I got that too,” Foreman continued Cameron's question. 

“Yes that but, who- did you guys hear what he said? When I said House wasn't here yet he said ‘Oh I know’,” Cameron drops the file on their meeting table. “How does he know?”

“Better question; was that House’s jacket?” Chase points an accusatory finger in the direction the boy went. 

“Hooker?” Foreman tries, immediately shut down by Cameron.

“House hasn't gone into rut yet,” She reasons, standing her ground. 

“Hey Alphas don't need a nice dicking down when they’re just on ruts y’know,” Chase crosses his arms. “Foreman's right, he could've been someone he slept with,”

“But that kid is way too young!” 

“We can't assume our boss’ type, Cameron,” Foreman smirks. “He might like someone years younger than him!”

“Seriously? Chase’s the one that kissed a child,” Chase immediately gasps, hands flying up at what his colleague said.

“It was one time! And she was dying for god’s sake!”

The two laughs, while Chase rolls his eyes before huffing. “None of this still doesn't explain who that guy was,”

“And he smells… almost like House too,” Foreman blinks at his confusion. The three doctors continuously stared at each other, sharing glances as if it would yield an answer to their questions. Cameron looks back to the door, then to the case file, before deciding to open it. She reads the case and Cuddy was right, it’s interesting enough that House would find interest in it but…

“He mentioned Cuddy, didn't he?” Cameron immediately announces. The two men pauses, before the realization hits them. They were about to exit the office when suddenly House stood between them and the door, motorcycle helmet in hand, donned in his usual leather jacket.

He stares at his team, all supporting various degrees of surprise and confusion before he rolls his eyes. “I’ve only arrived and you’re already going out to run tests?”

His team is still dead silent. House huffs before barging past them and dropping his bag atop the piles of folders. 

“Gimme here,” House reaches out for the file Cameron is still clutching. “Cuddy says this one will blow my cane off,” His voice heightens in pitch, mimicking Cuddy herself. 

Cameron reluctantly gives the file to her boss, the Beta watching for signs of anything from House. As the Alpha starts reading the file, his team slowly files into their normal seating. The room’s tension was apparent, especially annoying to House as he practically felt it with his sense of smell. He looks up from the file, fixing the group with a glowering stare. “Did you all see a ghost or did I miss the memo of being mute for the day?”

“We uh-” Cameron starts “It's just… Someone came by, he was the one that gave us the file…” 

“Huh,” He pauses before raising a brow. “I must be losing my annoying Cuddy streak, she didn't even come by to give it herself,” 

House shrugs and drops the file onto the table with a slap! “But she was right, this is an interesting case…” He turns to his board, his cane thuds dully. “Differential diagnosis, go.”

—

The next time the group spotted the mysterious boy, he was leaving Dr. Wilson's office in the middle of the day.

They had just finished going out for lunch, walking together when they saw the door to the Oncologist's office open to reveal the boy they had seen earlier. A wide smile on his face and an equally glowing smile from Wilson was what shocked the group. They know Wilson as a very patient and empathetic man, but to see him smile so carefree it almost scared the three.

Foreman was reluctant but Chase pulled at his coat first which led them into hiding behind a corner, ears pressed to hear what Dr. Wilson and the boy were conversing about.

“You should’ve seen their faces,” The boy laughs, House’s jacket draped over his arm. 

“They’ve never seen you come by before, I'm sure they were pleasantly confused,” Wilson replies, a coy smile on his lips as he pats the boy’s shoulder. 

“Maybe I should visit you two more often,” His tone was light, his head tilting at the request. They hear Wilson repress a laughter before it chokes out as a short chuckle. 

“If you’re not too busy, we won't mind seeing you here,” Wilson nods. “Just anywhere but the ER, got it?” 

At that, the boy sighs though it seems to be out of fondness if the softness of the man's next word could be an indication for the three; “I won't, I promise,” 

“Then we’ll see you at home,” 

“Awh but I'm bored! I don't wanna go home yet!” The two laugh.

They immediately plaster themselves to the wall, Chase’s eyes wide while Cameron’s eyes shoot in different directions as if connecting invisible strings. Foreman sighs, wiping a hand across his face, before concluding. “A polycule?”

“A- What?”  Chase balks. “You think Wilson and House and that guy…?”

“It makes sense, right? They share living spaces,”

“Wilson keeps saying ‘we’ I think he does mean it’s him and House.” 

Chase and Cameron cross arms simultaneously. “I can see House and Wilson being together.” the brunette concludes.

Chase blinks before he turns to the girl. “Sure but House only has eyes, and love for Wilson, what makes you think that–” 

Suddenly, all three of their pagers beep and god for once they wished their patient stayed stable. They quickly made their way to the room, passing by Wilson and the boy, the two sparing a glance at the hurried steps of the three before they turned back towards each other. 

—

“Is House and Wilson in a polyamorous relationship?” 

Cuddy blinks, closing the patient file slowly and placing it atop her desk. Her eyes glance up to meet Camerons. She manages a tired glare that only works on anyone but House, though it seems he’s been teaching his ducklings bad habits because Cameron only stood and crossed her arms, which makes the dean of medicine raise a brow. 

“What makes you think I’d know that information, Dr. Cameron?”

She shrugs. “You’re closest to them. They tell you first before us, and aren't you always on top of coworkers dating each other and all-”

“Yes, but that's in case it’ll affect the efficiency of our work. House and Wilson-”

“Are an exception?” Cameron’s eyes widen inquisitively. Cuddy promptly rolls her eyes. 

“No. House and Wilson would be the last person to inform me of their relationship,”

“And why aren't you asking them anyway? I wouldn't want to butt into whatever those two alphas are doing,” Cuddy shakes her head, placing her attention back into her files before Cameron sighs.

“Because we saw a kid earlier this morning. Not a staff, not a student. We don't even know who he is but he was wearing House’s jacket and talking with Wilson.” 

“So? Someone could be House’s hooker and Wilson’s patient-” 

“He said he knew you. You gave him a patient file for House because you were too preoccupied to give him yourself!” 

Cameron shot her arms up, exasperated, while the woman sitting in front of her deadpans. Suddenly, Cuddy’s brows furrow, before she belts out a laugh, tapping the hilt of her pen to her desk. The ímmunologist blinks, her arms hovering lamely, confused and slightly scared by what Cuddy is about to say.

Cuddy steadies herself, before easily replying. “Oh him. Yeah that's House and Wilsons’s son.”

“... What?” Cuddy will have to check the cameras later because the shocked face Cameron supported before running out of her office was priceless.

—

House and Wilson were in the diagnostician's office. The boy was leaning on the wall between them, the two doctors sat face to face, divided by House’s desk. They were enjoying a cup of coffee, House had his patient's MRI results in his hands and went over it with Wilson, seeing as his ducklings were off doing tests. 

House figured it would be another hour before they bothered him again when his expectations plummeted by the three bursting into his office. 

“You have a son?!” Chase shouts.

“He’s your son?!” Cameron pointed at the surprised boy. 

“You two are together?!” Foreman motions between House and Wilson.

House groans loudly. Wilson looks to the side. The boy takes a slow sip from his cup. 

The diagnostician drops the MRI scans, promptly putting his legs down from the desk, annoyance evident in his frown. “Yes, yes and yes– I thought I sent you three to do blood tests,” He extends a hand. “I’m assuming it’s done so now give it,” 

“The results will be done in another hour. You never bothered to tell us?” 

“You all never bothered to ask,” House replies easily. He grabs his cane and stands, making his way to stand between Wilson and the lanky boy. House’s son.

“For a group of diagnosticians you three are really bad at picking up very obvious hints,” He sighs. “Especially you, Chase. You’ve worked with me for years now! I'm very disappointed in you young man.” 

“Wha- How should I know? You and Wilson were always this weird… Thing,” His hand flairs to gesture to the two doctors. “And you never brought the kid around!” 

“That's because he was in high school,” Wilson shrugs. “A lot of after-school programs,”

He replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. The three doctors are still standing dumbfounded. House supports a smirk before he brings the boy to stand beside him, an arm around his shoulders. 

“Everyone, meet me and Wilson's adopted son.” The kid laughs slightly, waving at the group. “Oh and yes, me and Wilson are together, in case you all didn't get that,” 

“You two are married?!” “Oh yes, til death do us part and all, the whole gimmick,” 

Wilson sighs. “Gimmick it may be, you still cried that day,” 

“And you’re going to blackmail me, Wilson? Oh you wound me, pookie,” House pouts at the Oncologist at which he raises a brow. 

“Wait wait-” Foreman shakes his head. “You never wore a ring and- Only Wilson does!”

“Im allergic to gold,” House sneezes when the said ring Wilson’s supporting glints. “It also doesn't match my edgy, cool doctor outfit,” 

The boy beside him laughs, shaking his head. “You’re lame, Dad. Lame, not cool,” 

“My own family is against me!” Wilson chuckles at House’s reply, which also makes his son laugh louder. A beat of warm laughter before Cameron pushes another question.

“Is- is this true?” He gestures towards the boy. He smiles, patting House’s hand that's still resting comfortably on his shoulder.

“Yes. I am Dr. House’s and Dr. Wilson’s son. A couple of months after they got married, they adopted me. I’m pretty sure I was in middle school when they took me in,” He smiles, glancing between his parents. “I’ve been with them ever since.”

“It’s semester break right now, so rather than spending my time at home, i’d rather bother my dad’s here at work. I won't bother you all!” 

The boy flashes a false smile suddenly. “No promises though.”

Cameron sighs. “Oh god there's two of you…”

House met his son's eyes. Something glints between them, before the two Alphas turn to the group sharply. House levels them with a smug stare while his son grins, all sharp teeth and menace, the two oozing dangerous dominant pheromones. Cameron and Chase locks up, Foreman only sighs at the two’s display. Wilson, still sat with his warm mug in hand, only sighs and rolls his eyes. If his husband and son is going to scare the shit out of the diagnostic department, he might as well enjoy the spectacle. It’s not like his son would stay here for long, he’ll get bored eventually and spend his break elsewhere, right? 

What happens in the next couple of weeks into his son's break would prove him wrong.

reblogs save lives. Requests opened!

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

a story told in multiple parts

vi x reader

Summary: As Caitlyn Kiramman’s younger sister, you already were expected to uphold certain ‘values’ persay. Your big sister definitely left big shoes to fill as one of the best criminology majors Oxford had. Whenever you had to take a couple years off after high school for mental health reasons they were already disappointed. Whenever you said you wanted to major in creative writing and literature with a minor in music they were more disappointed and quite nearly withdrew your college fund. But they have no idea that after the people you’re about to meet this year that just might be the least of their problems.

Contains: college au, dark/light academia, writer reader, singer reader, neurodivergent/autistic reader (i’m autistic so i’m writing from my own experiences), sporty vi, hockey player vi, big sister caitlyn, best friend ellie williams, roommate ellie williams, will contain other familiar characters you know and love as well as some potential ocs. no use of y/n, reader does have a name because it’s just easier for me to write that way 🖤

A/N: EEEEK for some reason I’m beyond nervous to post this. I know I did NOT need another wip but I had such a huge itch to finally get started on this idk what possessed me! First things first I DO want to say that I know the trope of hockey player vi and college aus are popular within the vi fanfic community and just want to make it so abundantly clear that I’m not trying to copy anybody and am going to aim to make this as different as possible.

Secondly, the idea of a tag list seems very overwhelming for me so the best way to keep up with parts will probably be to follow me! Also not giving myself a specific updating schedule since I AM working on so much right now and I want my long form stories on wattpad I currently have to take first priority so- it might take a while for me to post! Just bare with me!

Thirdly, I have never been to Oxford and probably will never go to Oxford (in fact I’m not even from the UK so whoops) so all of what is portrayed on here will be from what I’ve read from other english university media and research. So if there are errors I apologize! 🖤

ANYWAYS, enough rambling. Hopefully this has left you excited or at least morbidly curious and I can get part 1 up soon 🖤

Part Masterlist

Moodboards

Part I: You’re on Your Own, Kid

Tag

Can’t believe I didn’t just think of making a tag earlier so you can also follow the tag- #ttpd vi x reader 🖤🥹

Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤

[arsonist-tittyfuck]

It is brought up in movie that's he's a war criminal

I think the reason the PSAs are still played in Midtown is because Principal Morita's grandfather was a part of the Howling Commandos. In a deleted scene is a framed picture of the Howling Commandos. From what I take from this is he respects his grandfather and his grandfather's team. Cap was a member of said team so the PSAs are most likely still played because of that respect.

I like to think the PSAs existed for a few years so it could be excused as to why they're still being played. Considering the suit he's wearing in the PSA is the same one from Avengers, the PSA were either done in 2011 or around that time (the wiki says 2012 but I don't have any proof to back that up to my memory)

Ok so I just realised, Captain America's PSAs make no fucking sense.

Like, we see them in Homecoming, right ? Well Homecoming takes place between CW and IW, which means Steve is a fugitive.

Now someone please explain to me why the fuck would american schools use a (considered) criminal's voice to tell their students what's right or wrong ????

[epicsteddieficrecs]

Steddie Podfic Mini-Rec - July 2024

If you've seen my post from a few days/weeks (what is time??) ago, you might know that I've had a little Steddie Renaissance by means of podfics! I got into podfics for the first time a few months ago with the ship that's now occupying most of my brain space, but I've now listened to pretty much everything that there is in the tag, ergo: back to Steddie! I hope you enjoy and please give kudos and comments to the lovely people recording these fics if you listen to them!

[Podfic] far away from nothing by greedy_dancer // fic by  glorious_spoon/@glorious-spoon (Coming Out, Missing Scene | 10-20min | Teen): The thing is, Steve knows he’s the dumb one. Between Nancy’s straight-A report cards and Dustin’s wild brilliance and Robin’s multilingual code-cracking skills—yeah. He’s just Steve Harrington, who graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA and got rejected by every fancy college his parents made him apply to. Fine. Somebody needs to guard the door and take the hits while the rest of them save the fucking world, and he’s more than okay with that somebody being him. The other thing is, most of them are brilliant in a way that he’ll never understand, and dumb as hell when it comes to human relationships.

[podfic] Shovel Talks by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by unkreativstermensch (Post-S4, Pining, Wayne POV | 20-30min | Teen): “Oh,” Steve says. Then again, “oh,” a little quieter. His expression changes; from confusion to something pained almost. “Mr Munson, I don’t…” he takes a deep breath, his voice a little shaky as he continues. “I don’t think he…I don’t think he likes me like that.” He doesn’t say “it’s not like that.” Neither does he say “I’m not like that.” That’s the first thing Wayne notices. or: Wayne decides to give Steve the shovel talk, only to realize he might not be the one needing one.

[podfic] Longer Lasting Freshness by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by RurouniHime/ @thegertie (Morning After, Friends to Lovers | 20-30min | Mature): Steve's his friend. His closest friend. And Eddie had to mess it up. He had to mess it up so hard, all the way and back again because Eddie never does anything at less than a hundred and twenty percent.

[Podfic] The way you feel by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie // fic by alchemystique/ @alchemistc (Getting Together | 20-30min | Teen): Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone. “What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?” And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you the way that Eddie looks at him and-. “Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?” “Whoops?”

[Podfic] hands of loving by greedy_dancer // fic by kafkian (PWP, First Time | 30-45min | Explicit): ‘No way,’ Steve said, stunned. ‘You’re a virgin?’ Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Shut up, man.’ ‘No, I didn’t mean – just. Really?’ Steve asked. ‘You've really never ...?’ ‘I run a DnD group, got held back in school twice, and live in a trailer with my uncle,’ Eddie said flatly. ‘What part of that screams dick magnet to you?’

[Podfic] Roll for Initiative by Silverkat1620/ @silverkat1620 // fic by by alchemystique/ @alchemistc (Post-S4, Past Kas!Eddie | 30-45min | Teen): He nearly gets away with it, is the thing. Three sessions in and the kids haven’t realized the BBEG isn’t the tarnished knight with the swooping hair and the stupid dad jokes they groan at every time. They still think the wizard leading them towards imminent destruction is on their side, and as his reluctant hero of an NPC warns them to be wary even Will the Wise rolls his eyes and misses the opportunity for a perception check that barring a Nat 1 would have, at the very least, told them that one of them wasn’t to be trusted. He’s not even trying that hard to hide the incredibly obvious parallels – the courtship the knight had once had with the sister of Wheeler’s paladin, the reluctant way he continuously steps in when the party gets themselves into a hairy situation, the incredibly obvious boner Eddie has for this stupid character he’s created solely for the purpose of a reveal he both does and does not want them to discover early on.

[Podfic] you could let it all go (it's called freefall) by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie for anniebibananie/ @anniebibananie (Post-S4, Getting Together | 45-60min | Teen): Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, and he’s very aware of the fact. That’s kinda the whole foundation of who he is as a person at this point: don’t expect good things to happen. He rolls with it. He makes glitter out of the shit. He lives in his own fantasy because reality has pretty much always sucked since, likely, before he can remember. Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, so he has no idea how to wrap his head around Steve Harrington’s sudden appearance in his life as an unmovable fixture. No fucking clue.

[Podfic] Anywhere, Anytime by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by AidaRonan/ @aidaronan (Post-S4 | 1-1.5h | Mature): Eddie wakes from a nightmare about the bats. Again. About a week ago, Steve Harrington gave him his number with instructions to call if he needed anything. Said number is tacked on Eddie's wall under his Anthrax poster. But it's 3:17 a.m. and Eddie probably shouldn't call. Definitely shouldn't call. (Eddie calls.)

[Podfic] It's Not a Big Deal by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie for AidaRonan/ @aidaronan (Post-S4, Accidental Sugar Daddy Steve Harrington | 1-1.5h | Mature): Eddie survives, but his entire life is locked away in the Upside Down forever (his books, his DnD stuff, his guitar.) Everything that wasn't on Eddie when Steve carried him into the ER, gone. So naturally Steve starts giving him things. Handing Eddie back those little outward markers of who he is.

[Podfic] Some Things Cosmic by greedy_dancer // fic by stereobone/ @stereobone (Post-S4, Dream Sharing | 1-1.5h | Explicit): Steve has a dream about Eddie. And another. And another. And another...

[Podfic] Whole Lotta Love by greedy_dancer // fic by stereobone/ @stereobone (Post-S4, Getting Together | Explicit): Steve scoffs. "I think if I was dating someone, Robin, I would be the first to know about it." "Would you, though?" Robin says.

[podfic] Mutual Future by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by knell (Post-S4, Getting Together | 3.5-4h | Explicit): "Okay," Eddie says at last, voice betraying his cool demeanor. "I'll go first." He clears his throat, folds his hands politely in his lap. "I have never been more confused in my life than when I'm with you. And I've taken trig three times and I'm still not a hundred percent on what a hypotenuse is, so, like, it's not difficult to confuse me or anything. But you really take the cake, man." Steve chews on his lip. "Sorry? I'm... confused too." — two dudes navigate their feelings in the most normal way possible.

[Podfic] the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie // fic by greatunironic/ @greatunironic (Future Fic, Getting Together | 3.5-4h | Explicit: Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

[Podfic] I just want your extra time (and your kiss) by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by ChristinMKay / @transmascsteveharrington (Post-S4, Getting Together | 4.5-5h | Mature): Five times Steve almost kissed Eddie and the one time Eddie beat him to it.

[Podfic] sub-culture by greedy_dancer // fic by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Post-S4V1, Getting Together | 7-10h | Teen): “Is he whining about Eddie being mean to him again?” Robin is leaning in the doorway, eating a leftover slice that’s probably cold by now. “You talk about him more than you talk about girls, Steve, it’s getting concerning. Anyone would think you had a crush.” Or, Steve is pretty convinced Eddie now hates him. Turns out Eddie has the opposite problem.

[tinytalkingtina]

WIP Weekend

It's been a few months since I've done one of these. With the couple spicy events I was participating in concluding, time to come back to WIPs that have been giving me some trouble. Would love a distraction right now, so let's go! Updates

So about that sixth and final chapter of Soaring Symphony...yeah I haven't touched it in a hot minute whoops. I have a general idea of how I want it to go but haven't been able to motivate myself to do it. Hoping to finally get over the hump and start writing it again this weekend

Juggling two different fics set in the Running with the Devil role reversal track star!Eddie and metalhead!Steve universe: -The first is a 4+1 showing how Eddie rose in popularity over time, from the summer before high school to another party his senior year (and is kind of turning into a study on his friendship with Tommy and Carol, having fun with little-annie figuring out where everyone's heads are at during this timeline). -The second picks up right where the first one left off, with Eddie at his wit's end knocking on Steve's door after failing to outrun his gay thoughts.

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll send you 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP!

🐲 Witch and Dragon Steddie Chapter 6

🏃Role reversal 4+1 aka track star eddie character study

👟Role reversal fic "Can We Talk"

Enjoy a snippet from "Can We Talk" below:

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie asked, unsure of what exactly he was doing on Steve's doorstep. With a nod, Steve let him in. Driving over, Eddie had half-convinced himself the person opening the door would be the towering mocking figure from his dreams. But the Steve who answered his knocks wasn’t wearing his boots; he stared sleepily at Eddie without the need to look down. Stripped of his usual layered outfit and accessories, he looked…vulnerable. Softer maybe, younger too. “I don’t usually deal at home, but I don’t need any neighbors sticking their fucking nose in my business and calling the cops this time of night,” he said, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. Eddie fought the urge to push down the cowlicks as Steve continued to mutter about rude neighbors.

“I’m…not here 'cause of weed.” His nerves finally gave out and he glanced downwards. That was a mistake, because his eyes landed on Steve’s completely bare hands. Oh G-d, he had tan lines on his fingers. Lines that had Eddie swooning like some heroine in those paperback romances Carol was always reading. He needed to stop staring it had been too long, Steve would notice. Maybe if he’d gotten something remotely close to a good night’s sleep anytime in the past month, Eddie might have stopped himself. But as he stared at those fingers, he felt the last threads of his self-control fray and finally snap. He grabbed onto Steve’s wrist and held on for dear life. “Woah, uh Munson, you okay there?” Steve didn’t pull away. “I—just…” He wasn’t letting go. Why wasn’t he letting go? “Eddie?” Steve knelt down, staring up at Eddie with sincere concern. Not a sneer anywhere to be found. Oh G-d, he looked— “Don’t punch me, please.” Eddie whispered. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed Steve’s face and smashed their lips together. The taste of cigarettes and mint flooded his mouth. And for one blissful moment, his mind went completely silent.

No pressure tagging a few people to play too! (And if you see this and didn't get tagged by all means feel free to play too, happy to tag folks in the future :D) @little-annie @runninriot @augustjustice @solarmorrigan @dreamwatch @hairstevington @vthx

[ebongawk]

rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on ao3 or your wips and try to draw some conclusions.

tysm for the tag @pipergirl17 (like a week ago whoops) this seems so fun!

every star in the sky (is taking aim)

I love you, man. It was a strange feeling, lungs filling with blood.  His lungs filling with his blood.  Painful, yeah, but also weird.   Unnatural.  Like his blood knew it wasn’t supposed to be there, but it didn’t have a choice.  And the sensation of drowning in the liquid of his own body, the wet he produced that was supposed to keep him alive literally killing him? Fucking unreal.

the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)

Chrissy was exhausted. Three hours before, when she’d initially walked into Jason’s home, she’d already been tired.  But then fifty of their classmates popped out of poor hiding spaces, shouting surprise! so loudly she thought they’d ruptured her eardrum, and her internal dial went from ‘worn out’ to ‘enverated’ almost immediately.  Like the room was full of vampires that thrived on energy, and every ounce she had was leeched as soon as she stepped foot past the threshold. Whatever she wore on her face, Jason mistook it for excitement.

overheated heart (head over heels)

Eddie needed this goddamn movie to end. He was dying.  Like, actually suffocating, his lungs inhaling and exhaling oxygen without absorbing any of it into his blood.  He kept taking slow, deep breaths, but every passing second was agony.   Because with every stupid, necessary puff of air, Eddie kept getting little nudges of flowery perfume, and it was gonna be the death of him.

let's climb too high (for the stars to reach us)

Plopping down on a stool, Chrissy gave a weary sigh, letting her head droop against her crossed arms on the bartop.  She felt, all at once, like she’d been awake for a thousand years, and all she wanted to do was go to sleep.   Curl up in her bed after a long, relaxing bath and read one of her romance novels until she passed out with the pages spread over her chest. Joke’s on her, considering her bed was now tainted.

give me your hand (give me your sound)

It was a weird fucking day. Walking into the hellscape that was school, the aura was weird.   Anticipation hung heavily in the air; the promise of an impending week off made tension thick as people prepared for their spring break with wandering minds and jittery dispositions.  Ignoring lessons outright in favor of planning road trips and parties, discussing how to obtain alcohol despite the prying eyes of ‘authority figures’ standing over their shoulders. Eddie reveled in it.

heart begins to beat

The memories came in increments. Lying awake, staring up at the ceiling of a hotel room that felt more like home than Chrissy’s own childhood bedroom ever had, the pieces of a past her tormented mind had begged her to forget slowly stacked together.  Like a game of Jenga towering higher and higher, waiting to fall and crush her completely.  Each new brick connected the dots of a nightmarescape she couldn’t have fantasized in the most insane of dreams.

the conclusion I'm drawing is that I'm a big fan of single-line tag lines to sort of set the tone for a story 😂 which tbh I already knew. I also tend to steer my Chrissy POV intros more toward emotion while my Eddie intros seem a bit more physical? but idk if that's true for every fic or just these six.

(also idk if it meant the first few lines of the story or of the most recent chapter posted but I went with the former lmao)

I'm gonna tag @cyraclove @billysblueeyes @astorytotellyourfriends and anyone else that might want to play!!

[massivechildtidalwave]

Interesting prompts involving KHR in case anyone wants to use them. KHR X DP edition

This is part one there will be more. Feel free to use just tag me if possible so I can read them.

After a reveal gone wrong Jazz takes Danny and runs to Italy to escape their parents. (she took Italian for curiosity sake and it makes sense for her to go a area who’s language she could speak). Tucker and Sam help with the escape but because all of them leaving would be weird and raise questions they don’t need, are forced to wait until the end of the school year to join them.

Jazz takes the easiest job she could find that makes money because she’s not relying on her brothers best friends family money even if Sam insists, with Tucker giving school information to get through the required bits as quickly as possible. She lands on a high paying customer service job like hairdressing or

Tucker also gives them fake identification just to make sure the government can’t find them and force them back to the Fentons.

whoops! Some members of the Varia frequents the place that she works and are suspicious. (She is way to capable for the job, No CIVILIAN should be able to catch Bels knifes, do hair to perfection and still have time to coo at a cat from across the street while being completely unfazed by the KNIFE they just had to dodge. It’s just something that doesn’t happen.)

Something is clearly not right with Jazz Nightengale, they just know it! Whoever did the background check is getting fired!

Meanwhile with Jazz, she’s doing her best to be normal but she was born a Fenton and there is just a amount of insanity that is tied to that family no matter the legal connection.

Everything Danny learned came from her and I feel like she’s the kind of kid to have picked up knife tricks or random weaponry for the “experience”

Danny is healing, he’s doing online school, she has a well paying job and is going back to school to become either a psychologist or a therapist. In her mind everything is fine.

(Tucker is the kind of kid who breaks into government documents for fun with outdated technology, he could absolutely get his own handmade documents past Varia inspection, he was making them with the intention of them holding up to government scrutiny and is best friends with Sam. )

(Jazz lived in a murder house her entire life while basically parenting Danny, not only can she multitask she is also Flame Active. However I think she would instinctive hide her Flames because of how ‘unnatural powers’ have been handled in her family. I’d place her as either a Rain or a Cloud depending on how well she is mentally after escaping with Danny. This could lead to Cloud Gaurdian Jazz.)

🦋🦋🦋

For Angst or Hurt/Comfort lovers

Danny as Verde could lead to some interesting angst. Maybe Dani needed some help keeping her form and he went into science, maybe we threw himself into science after a Nasty Burger explosion to avoid becoming like Dan, or maybe he had to quickly find a way to earn money after a Reveal gone wrong and decided to use what he knew about technology from his parents to make things for selling.

Of course once he had money he could experiment a little bit. slowly making more and more things based on his interests instead of just for money. However it slowly gets darker as he makes slightly more unhinged experiments with different methods to explain them.

He wants to create a new better prosthetic out of boredom but doesn’t have any one to give him feedback, until he runs into someone attacking someone else. He saves the injured person but their arm is pretty messed up, he might have to remove it. And his prototype is an arm prosthetic so might as well get that feedback!

He remembers his parents muzzles quite well and makes a more horrible version after a nightmare as a way to help get his footing back. “If someone can get out of this, I have no reason to fear their variation of them because I could probably get out of them too! And I recently had to help someone escape an abusive ex so we already have a willing test subject!”

Just him justifying his projects as they get closer and closer to things his parents would have come up with, without noticing or acknowledging that that was what was happening.

The earth shattering revelation when he’s sitting on the ground recovering from an experiment on how to grow back to how he was before the curse, because he had no other lab rat to test it on, and slowly realizing that he’s acting like his parents.

That his fellow Arcobaleno aren’t just distrustful of him and his experiments because he is a stranger to them but that they slightly fear him.

The realization that they only come to him when desperate for an answer. Figuring out that he knows the least about the others not because he is busy but because they do not fully trust him enough to stay around him long enough to give him that information….

Verde, who used to spend countless nights protecting people so much it became an obsession before the accident and his core turned to discovery and the stars, isn’t sure how to fix this.

He gathers the Arcobaleno after making sure the cure works, sits through a meeting full of suspicion he had to talk his way through, slides the case holding the cure into the table and leaves for his labs. The labs he needs to throughly clean and bleach and sort through to make sure all his projects aren’t as bad as they were before, but at this point he had no clue what is supposed to be morally correct to him at this point.

The Arcobaleno are left confused. Verde was doing his mad scientist shit with the cure but he was acting…weird. Weirder than normal, he didn’t demand anything for the cure, nor did he stay to monitor the effects for *science* like he always did for projects like this. He was acting weird enough Skull even went to the lab they knew he was in and tried to talk to him. They were fully expecting him to get pulled into an experiment but Verde just yelled at him to go away.

He sounded panicked. What the fuck was going on with their resident scientist.

[oonajaeadira]

questions tag game

Lol thanks for the tag, @insomniamamma, @grogusmum, @katareyoudrilling, @toomanytookas, and @ace-turned-confused. I missed playing games!!!

Do you make your own bed? Only if I have rehearsal that day. My rehearsal studio is in my garage and the only toilet's inside the house. Our back door goes directly into the bedroom, so if people have to pass through our bedroom, I'd like it to look neat. But otherwise no. I actually like to throw the covers wide and let the sheets air.

Favorite number? Truthfully, numbers are weird to me. I don't get 'em. It's a long story. I guess the only one that catches my notice is probably 17 because my birfday, but I don't know if I'd say it was a favorite.

What’s your job? I work with performing artists. Fewer than 300 people on earth have my job and probably fewer than half of those even use the same job title. But I love love love my job; I'm good at it and it feels like I was made to do it. I get to spend my days working to make it more accessible for artists to present their work, organizing arts events, and fighting on their behalf to keep arts programs running.

If you could go back to school, would you? A few years ago I might have said yes. But now, probably not. I'm content to take classes, but I don't have the time, money, or energy. I wouldn't want the pile of checkboxes and deadlines again, that's for sure.

Can you parallel park? Pretty well, yes. Bonus for being able to parallel park in February when the snow's all built up on the side of the road and I have to gun it through plow drifts.

Do you think aliens are real? Statistically speaking, the probability of there deffo being aliens is astronomically high. (See what I did there)

Can you drive a manual car? Yes. I learned in/took my test in/first owned a stick. My dad taught me to drive and wanted to make sure I could always drive whatever vehicle I got in. It was his way of protecting me--if I ever got in a scrape and suddenly needed to drive a car, I'd be able to, no matter what. It actually came in handy in college because I was a pretty straight shooter, so my friends could drink and toke and I was always there to drive them home, even if it wasn't my car.

What’s your guilty pleasure? Most of my pleasures are guilt free because idgaf. But I do love staying up late knowing that I'll be tired in the morning. And I do love having a lazy day even though I know being sedentary isn't good for me. I love love love flying when I go on vacation, but I know my carbon footprint is deep. And I love shopping on Amazon and Shien and...well...*capitalist guilt*

Any phobias? Centipedes. Stick around my blog and you'll hear me scream about it often enough.

Favorite childhood sport? I was a water baby, so I loved swimming and would get into the water any chance I could. I was on swim team and gymnastics team in junior high. Loved riding my bike anywhere I could get to. And I was big on roller skating and downhill skiing...until I found theater and then I couldn't imagine risking breaking a bone and being in the wrong kind of a cast for six weeks....

Do you talk to yourself? All. The. Time. In the third person. Both admonishment and praise as well as practicing imaginary conversations with others. Sometimes it's a back and forth battle between two voices that are both me playing devil's advo. And sometimes I talk out fic dialogue in the shower or in the car. I get caught at it all the time. Whoops.

Tattoos? One on my back that I'm thinking about covering up with a Darksaber/watercolor tat. Now that I'm at the point in my career where I don't have to keep my body "marketable" (an actor's life is bizarre, yo), I'm thinking of getting a set of matching forearm tats.

Favorite color? Lemon yellow.

Do you like puzzles? I love brain puzzles. Sudoku, crosswords, anagrams, logic puzzles, escape rooms. Complex scheduling lol. Anything you have to think through. I usually wake up and play my way through most of the New York Times daily puzzles first thing in the morning. I am not as fond of trial-and-error puzzles like jigsaws and rubiks though. Those just feel like work to me.

.

tagging: @feathersandfoxtails @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @julesonrecord @writeforfandoms

@honestly-shite @lowlights @ithinkwehitametaphor @moonlitbirdie @the-blind-assassin-12

[applestorms]

for the character ask game: I'll throw Light at you :D I figure he might be an interesting one for the "first impression" vs "what do you think of him now" comparison

oh lord. that might be kinda difficult actually asldfkjsdklfj i started reading DN sooooo long ago... BUT i will do my best!! (ask game)

first impression: i genuinely don't remember all that well. to be entirely honest, i don't know if i even thought about him all that much at first-- if i'm not Fixated on a story for some reason (like Serious fixations that i blog about a lot on here, or even just paying extra close attention like for an assignment or something since i watch a lotta movies for film classes) i tend to not do a whole lot of analysis for my first go at a story =3=" like i'm almost Always shocked by plot twists cause i won't even bothering stopping to think "oh shit, what's gonna happen next," i'll just be too Invested in the Moment to think ahead. (guess i kinda do that in actual irl social situations too... all my thinking comes afterwards LMFAO i'm very no thoughts head empty all Survival Instinct when i'm talking to people. whoops.) the fact that i started reading the manga way back in my freshman year of high school (Quite a few years ago now) also doesn't help. lmfao. and also the fact that i stopped reading midway through like, vol. 9/10... ;w;

if i had to guess though, i think my (somewhat fandom-osmosis influenced) view of him was that he was kind of an uptight dumbass with highly questionable morals. scrolling all the way back through the death note tag on my archive kinda points at this, like my mild amusement at these three posts speaks to that kind of surface level view of him. i certainly didn't have a lot of nuance or original hot takes involved in how i thought of him-- not until this post fucking exploded my mind a couple months ago and dragged me into the Trenches for good. idk though, i think a lot of my currents views on him were still present, just kind of dormant or not yet evolved...

impression now: my beautiful evil wife. next question

favorite moment: ehehe i've said this before, but his death!! in the manga specifically, but i enjoy any solid light death in any adaptation (the stairs in the anime & requiem in the musical, in particular). i think i've read the last few chapters of DN the most overall, from his speech until those 2 black pages... this panel is forever burned into my mind as one of if not The best page in the entirety of DN to me.

perhaps i'm just biased since i re-read the entirety of DN a second time just to remember the context so i'd be prepared getting into the ending, but that final volume of the series (eh final two volumes? i have the black edition, vol.6) will forever hit the hardest to me. light's Terror upon realizing he's going to die is just so absolutely deliciously horrible, it makes me sick to my fucking stomach in my favorite way. it's such a cathartic comeuppance, a vicious humbling that no other adaptation has really managed to get at in the same way for me. luv watching u die bbygrl <33

idea for a story: cries forever. uhm... lawlight but it's this tweet...?

unpopular opinion: this is also kinda hard to answer cause i feel like most of my Hot DN Takes are just. ways of adding additional nuance to common fandom takes? e.g. i don't think light is all that overtly bigoted, or at least not in a way that He himself is aware of. like, i've definitely made a joke about light being a republican before, but realistically i think light's politics are just about whatever he thinks will make the most people like him-- he just skews more conservative a lot of times cause he's in a very privileged, pro-cop household and social environment.

i guess my hot take might be related to that, actually-- i've talked in-depth about my thoughts on light's intelligence before so i won't get into That again, but as a kind of sidenote to those points, i don't think light is very emotionally aware when it comes to reading himself. part of this might just be a side effect of the KIRA stuff, the Cycles he traps himself in to avoid having to think about all the ways he Might Actually be a Bad Person, but part of it might just be his immaturity or (male) socialization as well?

i actually find this kind of relatable about him, sometimes-- like in the second half of the series, he often responds to Panic with an anger response, which he usually takes out on either misa, ryuk, or the JTF (usually matsuda, since that's the most Acceptable target to get annoyed at for dumbassery). light Feels everything very strongly, often in contrast to L who very rarely gets attached to things (except for the rare cases where he gets Super attached) but he doesn't really have a good outlet for dealing with those feelings so he just represses everything instead. you can see this w/ his depression in the second half of the series too-- Work & L & KIRA, balancing all those titles and responsibilities is what matters, so he autopilots through it all in a desperate bid to escape facing the fact that his soul has been withering for the last half a decade since L's death.

it's hard to be a person when you're trying to meet Everybody's expectations, i guess, and KIRA does nothing but provide light with even more expectations to live up to if he wants the validation that will definitely totally absolutely make him happy and his life perfect and amazing and meaningful.

favorite relationship: i mean, ship-wise it's obviously lawlight, though i have grown somewhat of a soft spot for matsulight after writing them recently. for character dynamics just in general though-- i really really really like how good yagamane are at casually torturing each other just by Existing, one day i'd like to write a fic about those two set at some point during the time skip. i also love any moonriver interactions, ofc, those are some of the funniest in the series just for how fucking dramatic light is, especially in comparison to the Dead Inside-ness of near. the ways that light idolizes his dad is also very interesting to me, and i'd like to look into that more.

as for more underrated dynamics... i think i'd like to look into some mello/light stuff a little more sometime :3c ehehe

favorite headcanon: HM. hard to pick a favorite. uhh as more of a minor one, i really like that idea that light counts to 40 to calm himself down. actually, speaking of-- in terms of Mental Illness headcanons that i don't see super often, i really like giving light anxiety. for no particular reason. <- (projecting) askfjsdjk ok but like in terms of general/social anxiety specifically, not just OCD (though i'm fond of that one too). this is mostly because i think light's anger problems are just a product of his underlying anxiety mis-management, though again i may just be projecting SO. probably about time to end this post huh. askldjfksldjfkd

thanks for the ask =3=

[bloodlinesceo]

𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙨 (𝙄𝙄)

A/N: Part 1 if you haven't read it.

Warnings ⚠️: Swearing? I think. Fluff maybe. Not Proofread.

WC: 1.1k

Pairing: Tonga Loa x Fem! Reader

Characters in this chapter: Tonga Loa, Bianca Belair & Montez Ford. Mentions of Tama, Bloodline 2.0.

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You turned around & you sworn you could've dropped face first on the floor right there. It was him, instead he wasn't in his usual Bloodline attire suited up, you can't deny, seeing him in that suit had you crushing on him like a high school girl, but currently seeing him in a tight fitted black shirt, and jeans just like he wore at Backlash when he appeared made you close to combustion. His biceps were visible, gosh he was jacked. You had a million thoughts running through your mind, but you needed to respond to him first.

"Loa? Oh hey! I didn't expect to still see you here. I thought you left after eating." "I wish." He sighed "Solo & Jacob already left, but Tama has a last minute meeting with Nick Aldis about the 6 man tag match. Right Hand Man things. He has to report to Solo after they're done, didn't want to leave big bro alone." "Oh, I understand." you nodded. "you must be tired." He chuckled showing off his pearly whites "I am, it's been a long day. Still trying to get used to getting back to the WWE Life & schedule." "So am I " you said "had a long match today & I can't wait to go home & knock out " he laughed again.

"Congratulations on qualifying, you did great out there & I hope you win that briefcase." You were flattered "Thank you! You watched my match?" he looked down, was he blushing? "I just had to." "Don't worry, I watched yours when you were in NJPW." He raised his head up in surprise "Really?" you nodded. He smiled that million dollar smile, but then his expression turned serious & he spoke up again "Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened in catering. Tama is just trying to be a protective big bro, but he sometimes gets too much into his villainous character too. He was like this in New Japan as well, in The Bullet Club, he loved picking fights with people & his ego would get the worst of him. I always had to get him to calm down, even now I had to remind him again that's he's not in Japan anymore & he can't be bugging the ladies, he'll get his ass whooped real bad along with mine's." You laughed, "well, he's getting his lesson next week with The Street Profits." you joked, but then remembered Bianca & Tez are waiting for you.

"Listen, thanks for apologizing on his behalf, it wasn't your fault, but I appreciate it. Bianca & Montez are waiting for me. I gotta go." you turned on your heels ready to leave when he called for you again. "What's up?" you asked. "Before you go, I was wondering are you free this weekend?" he asked. was this his way of him asking me out? But that's if he will in a few seconds you thought. "I am tomorrow, Bianca, Bri (B-Fab), Jade & I are going out for breakfast & shopping, Naomi might come along too as long as Jimmy doesn't start crying for her to come home quick." You laughed causing him to laugh too.

"But, I'll be free in the evening. My flight's Sunday afternoon, luckily." "So am I!" he smiled. "Are we on the same flight to Florida?" he asked. "I think so!" you smiled back. "So, tomorrow evening…are you okay with grabbing a drink?" You felt yourself warming up inside, you spoke to B-Fab not long ago on him, but here he is asking you out. You thought carefully, because of what this might lead to, The Bloodline doesn't like you & The Street Profits including Bianca don't like him. You had to decide wisely, it's like they were keeping you both apart. As much as you hated it, you needed to be honest with him.

"Loa, I'm flattered that you asked me. I'd love to, but the issue is I don't think The Bloodline would approve the idea of you hanging out with me. I mean, your brother already hates me. Vice versa with Binky & The Street Profits if I go out with you." you nervously chuckled. He frowned & nodded in agreement. There was silence for a moment before he spoke up again, "they don't have to know." he smirked. "What?!" "Neither of them have to know about us hanging out, since it's the evening, Tama will probably be back at the hotel gym working out, so will Solo & Jacob. All the wrestlers have their evening routine of coming back to the hotel to wind down & knock out. They're too tired to notice. I'll tell them I'm out with a few wrestling buddies drinking, he knows I have a life too."

"You want this so bad don't you?" you smirked. "I want to get to know you more." he smiled, you mirrored his smile "I do too. Even if it means sneaking around." you chuckled. "No one will know. And depending on the storylines & gimmicks, if we both end up on the same side then who knows? You won't be an enemy anymore." he teased. "Bet, that will be you & Tama." you teased back.

You both exchanged numbers & saved each other's names as both of your initials to be on the safe side. You arranged a time in the evening & a meeting place definitely a bit far from the hotel so nobody would catch you two together. A bar & grill, 30 mins away, it was a lot but better to be safe than sorry. You both wanted to start off casual first & then go more formal later & take it slow. You both waved goodbye to each other & went your separate ways. You exited the arena smiling to yourself & entered the parking lot only to see Tez & Bianca waiting for you & God, they did not look pleased. "Uh oh" you thought to yourself.

You approached them, "Did those spring rolls give you diarrhea or something?" asked Tez as he grabbed your bags to store in the trunk. Your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment hoping Loa wasn't around anywhere to hear that. "I'm so sorry to keep y'all waiting, I had so much stuff to pack." you apologized as you got into the passengers side. Bianca gave you a suspicious look from the front seat,"Sis, what's got you smiling like that?" she questioned. "Tonight's win!" You answered quickly, "I'm so happy, I can't wait to go to Money In The Bank!" She nodded in agreement "Fair enough, but you owe us some Cali rolls & Miso soup for keeping us waiting " you laughed "I was gonna get it for the both of you, anyway!" "Alright, let's get some Sushi!" said Tez as he got into the driver's seat & drove off. All you could think about was Loa during the trip, you couldn't wait to see him tomorrow. With those thoughts your phone buzzed, you got a text message. You opened it & your heart fluttered.

TL: Thanks for saying yes, can't wait to see you tomorrow! You won't regret this! 😉

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Thanks for reading Angel! Feedback is appreciated 💫

If you want to be added to the tag list for the next chapter let me know!

[matd0]

life update ig ??:

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi !!!

ok so

1. i mentioned about having medical issues and some people got concerned so i just want to quickly explain the thing yk; in short it turns out having anxiety can cause heart arrhythmia ????? which can be like kinda dangerous;; but like in most cases it's fairly harmless so i should be alright :] !! still have to go check it out at the hospital (which i have been sorta putting off for a while bc yk. anxiety,, lol) but like other than it stressing me out a bit, everything is relatively fine :]

2. school is kicking my ass rn 💀 have a lot of unfinished work and missed a ton of classes bc my mental health kinda sucks,, so yk it's not exactly going great lol. but uhhhhhhhhhh im sure I'll figure it out ? ig ?? ye.

3. got a small art block. well it's more like "i have so much work to do, how dare i draw at a time like this" (and then just go to sleep bc im soo stressed and overwhelmed about everything 💀) but like. I'll probably get over it soon 🤷

idk i also just feel super obligated to always post super high effort paintings if i have many followers yk? like alot of the time i just feel like my drawings aren't good enough and everyone will like despise me for it;; and idk ig i just need constant approval for everything i do for some reason sjdhjshd. ik it's like. a really inaccurate and terrible way to look at it but i just can't rlly help it;;

uhhh all that to say, i hope it's alright if i post more sketches and unfinished drawings ? ;;

4. i would like to formally apologize for barely responding to literally anything. like. im so sorry dudes;;;;;;; unfortunately i have. very intense social anxiety and literally do not respond to anyone ever. (/srs it's like. a genuine issue in my life. whoops) but like i feel super bad about it bc i don't want to seem like i don't care T_T cuz lik e. i literally read every comment, message, tag, etc. and they always make me so so so happy ;;;;; like i routinely show screencaps of random comment to my friends gush about how nice they are 💀 idk point being; im a loser, i love all of you and it blows my mind that anyone cares about my silly drawings for a p much dead fandom lol.

extra: also i uh made a creepypasta oc 🧍‍♂️might post about him maybe idk im scared it'll be cringe sjhsjsgdhgdhd epic

TLDR; pretty stressed, small art block, school suckz, might die but probably not lol.

(sorry this came off super negative and sort of venty 💀 its all good i swear, im just silly)

[flowerslut]

Weekly Tag Wednesday—Positivity Edition

this is soooo cute thank you @southsidestory for the tag ♡

Name: Shannon

Name(s) you were almost given: Maureen or Elizabeth and if I was a boy, Ryan or goddamn CRAIG. Imagine looking at a baby and being overcome with the urge to ensure they grow up to be a contractor. That’s what you do when you name a person Craig. You say “I want this baby to grow up and build me a crappy little deck.”

Nicknames you’ve been given: Oh god I don’t have many? Shan. Shay. Shanny. All just variations of my name. OH and Pandacow. 5t4s only real ones will remember that one. Besides those, people will sometimes refer to me by my old tumblr url and every now and then I’ll get a cheeky lil “pizza queen” which is honestly so funny to me, I love it. Being addressed by my internet handles makes me laughhhh

Top five frequently used emojis: 💀😭🫶🏻❤️🔪 (yeah that tracks)

The last yummy thing you ate: Had some toast for breakfast with offbrand nutella and peanut butter + my morning coffee that I’ve been adding hot chocolate mix into as of late!

Something you’re good at that we might not know already: I can untie any knot and fix most broken zippers? I guess you can say I’m good with my hands 😏

Something you’ve always been good at: Sports. Just in general; I’m very athletic and it’s not difficult for me to quickly learn and be good at any random physical activity. This is to the annoyance of lots of people who hate when someone picks up A Thing they’ve been doing for a while, and that person is a natural at it so then they develop a complex. (Sorry to be a natural jock and yes it will happen again.) The first time I went skiing I was whooping everyone’s ass in races by the end of the day. My ex was not amused. Yes, you do want me on your team 10/10 times.

Something you’re working hard to get better at: Writing! Always always always writing. I started trying to unlearn ~bad habits~ a couple years ago and my stuff has visibly improved loaaads (on a technical level) in the past few years.

Favorite item of clothing: Looney tunes sweater. If I were a cartoon that would be my Signature.

(photo from like 2 and a half years ago but behold! The Sweater!)

Favorite fizzy drink/pop/soda (if you like them): I’m counting energy drinks in this and saying red bull, but specifically the dark green dragon fruit flavor.

Favorite place you’ve visited: Key West was insane. Love that place. A shame it’s in Florida.

A place you look forward to visiting in the future: Philadelphia! Gonna be there a little next summer and I’m sooo excited to see my best friend from high school. ♡

Your favorite song right now: I just wrote a short bones and all x jalice AU inspired by ‘Famous Last Words (An Ode to Eaters)’ by Ethel Cain which is inspired by the movie which is inspired by the book. So I’ve probably listened to that song 200 times this month. Not even joking it's probably more than that tbh 💀

tagging uh @volturialice @goldeneyedgirl @gashousegables @iocococo @burntheupholstery uhhhh and anyone who has read roots. that's you besties. tag ur it ♡

[marvelandponder]

15Qs and 15As!

Thanks for the tag, Marvel, this sounds fun! Tagging: @smallcrystals, @digikate813, @eddiescorner, and @bevinbrand if she feels like it :) Don't dox yourself on the 'where were you born' question tho, y'all. We're better than that. Are you named after anyone? Two people! My Uncle Stephen and my Nana (maternal grandmother). My brother was named after my dad's high school best friends

When was the last time you cried? I think the last time was a couple weeks ago watching anime. I love a good cry, I've embraced that that's how I express a lot of emotions

Do you have kids? Nope! I'd like to someday, but all in due time.

What sports do you play/have you played? I'm not a team sports kind of girl anymore, but I played soccer as a kid and really enjoyed that.

Do you use sarcasm? Usually only obvious sarcasm. Bevin and I will often use excessively obvious sarcasm with each other to express love. A little linguistic game we play with each other. We never enjoy spending hours and hours on the phone together. So unlike us! Where would you get that idea?

What is the first thing you notice about people? First thing? I feel like my anxiety is charge of that: looking out for how friendly they seem, what they laugh at (if they do), how approachable they might be. I had pretty bad social anxiety disorder from like 14 - 22ish and human beings tend to do the social thing once or twice.

What is your eye color? Hazel! Looks brown but up close you can see there's a lot of green around my pupils, too.

Scary movies or happy endings? My media diet is heavily skewed towards happy endings but every now and then, nothing satisfies like a good tragedy.

Any talents? People know I like the writing thing! I'm also learning to draw now and picking up guitar again for the first time since before uni!

Where were you born? A hospital about... 30 - 40 minutes away from me? I don't live in that city anymore, and haven't since I was 3, but we stayed in the same general province!

Don't dox yourself, folks!

What are your hobbies? Writing, drawing, guitar, going for bike rides or walks. Geeking out by myself or with friends! I'm also starting to learn some German and pick up a few more cooking skills.

Do you have any pets? Nah, wish I did. My living situation doesn't allow for it. But my dad has a dog who I love so much and get to visit! And my sister has two cats who used to live with us that are excellent cuddlers.

How tall are you? Uhhhhh I think 5'11? To use ancient Tumblr Lingo: Tol, not smol

Favorite subject in school? In Elementary - Middle School, it was English, because reading and writing. In high school, Psychology, Legal Studies, Guitars, History, or Writer's Craft

Dream job? Cool question, I'mma over-complicate it! For my career, it's either one of two things: Creative and/or helping people. Add another axis onto that: Stability vs. freedom. I like stability. It helps me feel happy and builds self-esteem to build stuff up. So since most of the creative jobs I'd be down to try have a lack of stability (and often crappy working conditions), I decided to start with stability and helping people! My current job is actually the goal I set for myself to get into in 5 - 10 years. So. Whoops! Got in early! I can't stay beyond this year (covering a mat leave) but wow has it been good experience. And it's cool shit that I like to think supports people in building something good for themselves.

Not a ton of creativity though, and so what's cool about life is that the time horizon isn't just right now, forever. The job I'm in now is a dream job of mine based on the criteria I set out (stable, treats me right, and helps people), but I have other dream jobs I'd like to also try out!

For example: I'd like to become a published author! And I'd also like to learn storyboarding to maybe try being a storyboards artist someday, or some job in animation.

What I like about the job I have now, too, is that I still have enough energy in and around my job to have a life outside of it. So I can build the creative skills that'll lead to cool stuff and opportunities down the line.

Having multiple dream jobs I think is realistic. And just kinda fun to not only achieve one thing, but look forward to what else I can do!