#six days fic

[bearsinpotatosacks]

I'm writing the third (and last, kind of) chapter to Six Days and have had an idea. Anyone who's read my fic Six Days might have noticed that it's only in Richie's perspective, but when I was first writing it, I had other people's sprinkled in. I'm thinking of putting these, and adding some more, POVs into a bonus chapter. The question is...

Edit: Chapter 3 breaks the rule and introduces other people's perspectives

[alchemistc]

"Any plans for your days off, Buck?"

Buck knows his grin is a little feral, but he's kind of hoping that'll throw them off the trail. It's barely been a year, and in that time they've had three natural disasters, one copter crash, a boss intent on making Buck's life a living hell, and two almost break-ups.

It's too soon, to know for sure, except Athena and Bobby had known, and Hen and Karen had known even if they were too scared to admit it at first, and Chim and Maddie may have taken a little longer to get there but they'd known.

And Buck knows. He knows he's never felt like this about anyone before. Knows no one has ever had the ability to infuriate him and calm his fears quite like Tommy Kinard can. Knows they could have done this like they joked about six months ago and they wouldn't have regretted it.

Hen is making a face like she's trying to decide if she wants to know whatever head-tilt-cheek-bite sexual innuendo Buck's got in the barrel, because she only appreciates that about half of the time and Buck's praying she decides on no because he's a terrible fucking liar and he doesn't like keeping things from people. But it's sort of a secret, for the next 48 hours, and Buck also wants to bask in it, wants to enjoy keeping it to himself for just a little while.

"Our Buckaroo is all grown up and refusing to over share about his sex life, praise be," Chim chips in, and Buck tucks his chin to his chest and hopes his pink cheeks read as embarrassed.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and around him lockers slam and voices drift over him. He's only got eyes for the text that just came through.

Bird's ready, suits are pressed, room is paid up. You wanna go to Adele, after? I think I know one of her people.

You know everyone, stop bragging, I'm already impressed

I'm always gonna try to impress you. You still at the station?

Yeah but not for long. I'll see you in like forty

"--right Buck?"

Buck blinks, hums, stares across at Chim.

"Please tell me you're not sexting at work right now."

"Technically, we are off the clock."

"I'll remind Clipboard Buck of that next time he shows up."

He's zipping up his bag when his phone buzzes again.

See you soon, baby.

He's pretty sure he's gonna get away with it - Hen and Chim are arguing about some reality show as they all trudge toward the open bay doors, and though he can hear their voices further back, Eddie and Bobby still seem to be deep in conversation.

Ravi comes out of left field, because of course he does, just finished inventory still clutched in his hand as he rounds the engine closest to Buck. "Hey, Buck, you and Tommy wanna catch that movie tomorrow night? I picked up a shift but I've got like twelve off in between."

Buck winces. Damn, so close. "Sorry, bud, we actually won't be in town."

Which he's realizing now is pretty uncharacteristic of the both of them, and Hen and Chim have clocked it, so he's gonna have to make a run for it, but he catches sight of raised brows and questioning expressions and he can't give them nothing.

"Tommy's taking me to Vegas, we might see Adele, okay bye!"

They absolutely let him make a break for it, let him scramble into the Jeep, let him send them all a quick wave before he peels out of his parking spot, and Buck spends the drive to Harbor viscously ignoring the steady buzzing from his phone.

---

Tommy snags the backpack from his shoulder before he's fully out the door, and tugs a belt loop to pull him close. Buck is pretty sure he'll never get over how much he likes being manhandled, just a bit.

"You wanna tell me why Chim and Hen both wished us a good flight?"

"Ravi ambushed me on my way out the door. Technically, they don't know anything about anything, except maybe Adele."

Tommy's fond smile makes Buck feel all warm and tingly inside, and he basks in the glow as Tommy nudges a knee between the open bow of Buck's legs.

Tommy's expression morphs, a bit, lips dropping as he tilts his head. "You having second thoughts? We don't have to-."

"No. No second thoughts."

"Evan, I know how close you are to your family. If you want to wait, make this something you can share with them, we can hold off."

He's so goddamn charmed by this man - by how he cares, by how well he knows Buck, by a million and one tiny things that Buck gleefully hoards his knowledge of like a dragon over his caverns of treasure.

"I kinda don't want to share you, for this." It's the first time since Tommy's brought it back up that Buck's been able to express exactly why the prospect makes him so giddy, but there it is. Possessive jealous Buck rears his ugly head again, only Tommy has always been a little charmed by that. At least when Buck expressed it in a healthy way.

"The moment they know, it's gonna be a spectacle," Tommy agrees, fingers curling over Buck's side.

"Exactly. So. Take me to Vegas and wife me up before one of them shows up trying to tag along."

He expects the dramatic eye roll, and Tommy's fingers digging into his sides. He doesn't expect the ear-ringing whistle echoing through the bay door to their left, or the smirk on Lucy Donato's face when she lets her looped thumb and pointer finger drop from her lips.

"We should definitely go before any of them remembers to hit her up for more details."

"Why would she -."

"Yeah she caught a look at the manifest and snooped until she found the rings."

"So you're actually worse at keeping a secret than I am."

"They're all gonna know before we land back home."

"Hen's gonna break like thirty bylaws trying to decorate a county owned chopper."

"Evan, seriously, we can still -."

Buck only knows one sure-fire way of stopping Tommy from spiraling too much - he uses the little bit of leverage he has plastered to the open door of his Jeep to catch Tommy's lips, and the resulting pleased hum shivers down his spine. Evan takes a moment to be pleased that Tommy hadn't shaved this morning like he'd threatened, and then he's tilting his head for a better angle and losing himself in it long enough that a few more wolf-whistles make their way across the tarmac -- Wendell and York, most likely, but when Buck finally breaks the kiss to dart a look over Tommy's shoulder, everyone has made themselves scarce.

"You gonna marry me or not, Kinard?"

It's a rare thing, but sometimes, when Buck makes him a little extra wild, Tommy does this growling thing that Buck always feels down to his toes. Tommy kisses him breathless again when Buck responds to this growl with a satisfied smirk.

---

"How much you wanna bet Hen convinces you to do a vow renewal within six months."

Buck's busy nipping at a spot of flesh just above Tommy's transverse abdominis, so it takes a second for his brain to catch up with the words.

"It's gonna be Maddie, and she's gonna rope you into it before you realize what's happening."

Tommy hums, pleased, not denying it, and runs a hand through Buck's hair, palm curling over his crown. It takes Buck a moment to figure out why it doesn't feel quite as familiar as it always does, and then he's reaching for it with a hand of his own, the tips of two fingers sliding along the smooth metal surface of Tommy's ring.

The smile he shoots up from the general area of Tommy's groin is all puppy-dog grin, and he basks in the soft, warm grin Tommy sends back. Buck tracks the crinkle of Tommy's eyes like a lifeline.

"I'm gonna lord it over everyone's head that we didn't get married because of, during, or after a health scare or a natural disaster."

"You asked me two days after we made up because of a flash flood we both thought we were gonna lose each other to, but okay."

Tommy's smile is soft. The fingers that slide around his scalp to brush reverently over his birthmark are even softer. "That time doesn't count, because we didn't follow through. You thought I was joking."

He had, honestly, at first, because they'd technically still been broken up at the time and the adrenaline and the terror at nearly losing one another had still been close. It'd taken him three days and Tommy angrily re-ringing his house key back onto Buck's keychain to realize Tommy maybe hadn't actually been joking about hopping in the chopper the next time they both had 24 off.

He's glad they'd taken the extra time, though. Glad they'd had time to drive halfway across the state in search of a ring shop they could be sure they wouldn't run into anyone at, glad they'd had the time to get new suits tailored, glad he'd had time to fuss over vows he'd still cried about while he was saying them, glad they'd done it without an Elvis impersonator standing just off to the side.

"You're stuck with me now," Buck tells him, and Buck knows Tommy's delighted bark of laughter will keep him warm for years.

[thisapplepielife]

Submitted for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Funko Corroded Coffin

Day #26 - Tour Date A diorama of a tour date for the Funko Pop versions of Corroded Coffin.

Info: We haven't had many "other" entries for CCF, so I decided to snap some pictures of my little custom Corroded Coffin display for fun, just to add something different to the event.

Road Manager Steve has his red milk crate to stand on, and is carrying a bag of cash. Gareth's drum set is a real Funko one, I just added the Corroded Coffin logo to it. (It's definitely Tuesday's-coded by including Di and the red milk crates.)

As for the figures themselves, Eddie is the only standard-issue Funko. Gareth, Goodie & Jeff were all custom ordered to be painted like themselves from S4. And I made Steve and Di myself by doing some head-swapping, lol.

And, yes, I felt like I was playing Barbies moving them all around to take pictures, haha.

[rupturedhaven]

“...When will she grow back?”

Colm looked down at him with concern all over his face. “What do you mean?”

Jesper looked at the ground beneath the cherry tree. “We’ve planted her now, so when will she grow back?”

“...Oh, Jesper.” Colm welled up again. He knelt down and took Jesper’s hands in his. “Your mother…she was a flower that can only grow once."

When We Collide Chapter 11: "Missed Beyond Measure" (COMING SOON!)

[harmonictechnicality]

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. 

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one. 

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender. 

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers. 

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.” 

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.”  Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days. 

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating. 

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky. 

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes. 

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head. 

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer. 

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line. 

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused. 

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it. 

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.”  Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat. 

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching. 

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest. 

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body. 

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question. 

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him. 

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

[willowcrowned]

bonus points if you say in the tags why the fic is on anon

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve And Robin Are Stuck in A Timeloop AU 

Steve's lost track of which time loop this is.

Had lost track pretty much instantly, because it turns out when people die repeatedly in front of you, it kinda takes precedence in your memory. 

Besides, Robin has a list in her head, memorized via some kind of musical code, alongside all the dates and times they wake up in. 

(Steve doesn't see what difference it makes if they wake up at 7:15 am the day of the Championship or 8:25 am, but Robin's insistent that even the slightest variations could mean something.) 

He’ll have to ask his soulmate when he finds her though, because presently Steve has determined they're having one of their weirder loops.

Typically, when the two of them get kicked back in time, they wake up the day of the Championship game. Occasionally it will be the day right before or the day after, but sometimes? 

Sometimes they’re sent back someplace, some time, that isn’t related to 1986 at all. 

Thus far, the Starcourt loop had been the worst. 

("If it happens a third time I'm killing myself." Steve had told Robin after they’d failed that one. 

Robin didn’t even look at him, the two of them huddled up together in Steve’s bed. "No you're not Dingus, not without shooting me first."

"How come I have to shoot you!? Is it because I'm a man? That's not very feminist of you."

"No its because you've seen me shoot, I would miss!") 

Steve had even woken up in an odd place. Not his bed or the couch, but the driver's seat of the Beamer, seated in the high school parking lot.  

It made him immediately uneasy. 

The chair is reclined all the way back, the mass of cars indicating it was a school day. Steve struggled to recall when he's ever taken a nap in his car as he got out of it, trying to decide how he wanted to go about things. 

Felt his pocket and was surprised to find it full of a packet of smokes. 

The sheer implication of that had him pulling out a cig and lighting it before the knowledge that he'd officially quit buying his own cigarettes in 1985 sank in.

Panicked and chainsmokes three, before deciding his best course of action was his usual one. 

Find Robin. 

Which of course means that he found Eddie instead. 

xxx

He’d started his first lap, walking out if the parking lot and round to the more shaded, empty parts of the building when a voice he knew yelled. 

The kind of yell he’d grown intimately familiar with, the one Eddie used when he was terrified and using anger to hide it. 

Steve turns automatically, following the taunts and loud, pained breathing until he finds a handful of jocks encircling the metalhead. He's down on one knee, snarling like a wildcat caught in a trap while some guy Steve barely recognizes holds him by the hair, laughing. 

Red coats his vision instantly, and any thoughts Steve had about being stuck in time (sort of) vanish from his mind entirely. 

The world shrinks down, to that white knuckled grip on Eddie's hair, the way it’s pulling the older boy’s face up so that Steve can see the straining muscles in his throat. 

The protective creature that lives in his chest and likes to punch it’s way out of problems awakens, and a thrum goes through Steve as he feels its demand for blood. 

"Hey fellas " Steve calls joyfully, striding directly into the crowd. "What’re we doing?" 

Two part before him like fish seeing a shark,and a faraway inner voice identifies them as members of the swim team. 

Which likely meant the other two were football players, and for all the tackling they did they were surprisingly easy to scare, if you knew how to play it right. 

Steve absolutely knew how to play it right. 

"Fuck off Harrington. This isn't your business." The one holding Eddie's hair spits. 

"Well that would be where you're wrong." Steve was still keeping things conversational as he positioned himself, arms nice and loose at his sides. He lets the thing that lives inside him, who made him turn right back around all those years ago and charge back into the Byers house, out a little more. Feels the need to protect, to save, to destroy the things that are his, fuel him.  "Seeing as all of Eddie's business is my business."

Eddie stares up at him, wide eyed at the declaration. 

Feeling entirely out of control of his body, Steve sends him a wink. 

"Since when!?" The other football player asks. 

"Since now." Steve declares cheerfully--and then smiles. 

It isn’t a nice smile. 

Thoroughly unnerved, his swim team members shrink back. He’ll have words for them later if he has time--Steve can't ever recall the swim team members being dicks but who fucking knows. 

His memory wasn't the best before he and Robin got stuck in time. 

"You fucking into drugs now or wha--" Their ringleader, still holding onto Eddie by the hair, doesn't get to finish his sentence.

Mostly because his mouth is too busy catching Steve's fist. 

Fighting, he knows, is something he does best when it's too the death and he's armed with something. 

Bonus points if his opponent is a horrific monster from another dimension. 

He has gotten better though, and here the rapid pace he sets feels almost too easy. 

The first guy goes down on the ground before the rest pick up on it, giving Eddie time to lurch backwards as Steve turns and torpedoes into the next jock. 

This one gets in a good shot--Steve staggers with a blow to his side but it's not enough to wind him. He keeps to his feet and advances, delivering one more punch before the swim team guys are trying to call him off. 

"Come on man, you're gonna kill them!" 

Steve almost laughs-- he hasn't come close to killing either idiot-- but backs away, keeping himself between them and Eddie. 

They wave their hands, getting ahold of their bloodied friends as they slowly ease between them and Steve. Make apologizes and promises that it was a poor joke, Munson just got to them, hot heads you know? 

Steve snarls at them to fuck off, and glares until they're gone. 

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks him, and Steve turns to find him on his feet, leaning heavily against the brick wall of the school. 

As far as he can get away from Steve. 

"Our football quarterback can't hit for shit." Steve informs him, having finally placed an least one of the guys. "It's probably why we always lose." 

Eddie gives him such a freaked out face it almost makes him laugh a second time.

The effect isn't helped by the fact that Eddie's normally long mane is hovering just over his shoulders, the curls somehow poofier than normal. Clearly he’s still trying to grow it out, but it just makes him look like one of those frazzled dogs. 

Adorable. 

On instinct Steve reaches out to playfully pull a few strands, then freezes when Eddie flinches from him. 

"Sorry." He keeps his hands up, as he takes in Munson's face. "Shit dude, he got your nose good." 

There's blood smeared under it, and given the look of the skin surrounding it? 

Eddie's gonna have an impressive bruise soon enough. 

Steve gets a glare sent his way. "Why do you care?" Eddie spits, back very much still up, and-- right. 

Right. 

Time travel. 

"I'm really bad at explaining it." Steve warns, running a hand through his hair. He did this part plenty without Robin (meeting Eddie that was--Robs usually tackled Nancy.) But he also typically did in it 1986, and with at least three of the kids, not whenever they currently were. 

"We usually start with facts only you'd know, but I don't actually know when I am right now." He finishes, and realizes immediately that it doesn’t make a lick of sense. 

"When you are?" Eddie asks, because of course he clocks that part immediately. 

"Ye--eah." Steve says, dragging out the word. 

He looks at Eddie desperately, like the metalhead will tell him the exact information he needs. 

Eddie just stares back. 

"Look, it sounds really stupid when you say it out loud." Steve says finally, because fuck, it does!

"Comparable to all the other times you talk out loud?" Eddie snips, voice full of venom. 

"Shut up.” Steve replies automatically, but his tone holds no heat. He’s too used to trading banter with Eddie that is friendly.  “I'm gonna preface this by saying I can prove it."

"Oh wow preface. Such a big word for you! Did Nancy Wheeler teach you that one?"

"Robin actually." Then, "Nancy?"

The look Eddie gives him could melt steel beams. "Yeah man. Nancy Wheeler. Your girlfriend." 

"Oh--oh god." Steve says, because that means they're way back. Possibly to the beginning. 

Or worse, before he and Nancy had broken up.

"I can’t handle that breakup a second time." He says wide eyed, the panic gripping him for a second. “I could-no, no I could get Robin to tell her!” 

Because that sure would work. 

Steve can just imagine it now. Robin, sauntering up to Nancy and going ‘Hey, we really haven’t met yet but you’re gonna dump Steve, if you haven’t already and to cut through all the drama, I’m here to just tell you on his behalf that it’s over. What was that? A coward? Why yes, he is one!’

You know, provided she didn’t just laugh in his face and then cuff him over the head when she realized he was being serious. 

“Dude.” Eddie says, sinking a world’s worth of judgment into the single syllable. 

“Yeah, you’re right, bad call.” Steve says, and whatever Eddie was expecting it clearly wasn’t that. 

“Are you on drugs right now?” Eddie finally asks when Steve reverts back to looking to him as if he’s going to help. A bad habit, and one Steve knows he needs to stop doing. 

Even if Eddie, in the original timeline and every one after they got him on board, eventually becomes someone Steve can rely on like that. 

“You can tell me if you are, man, you know I won’t judge.” The hateful air around him is fading into something more confused, and then into something else entirely. The persona Eddie pulls when he’s hurt and trying to hide it with jokes and rants. “Unless you and your buddies bought from someone that wasn’t me, in which case I get exclusive rights to judge.” 

He’s shifting as he finally stands up off the wall, and Steve doesn’t miss how he hugs one hand to a rib. 

Shit. 

He needs to get Eddie up to speed and he needs to do it fast.

Steve sighs and just starts listing Eddie Munson Facts like an unprepared kid who was called on in class. 

"Okay, so your uncle collects mugs, right? And--fuck I don't know when you get all the tattoos,” Steve makes a vague gesture around his chest, “but you have bats on your arm and you gave them all names." 

Eddie's eyes pop wide again, jaw slacking as Steve volleys off a few more Munson Facts. 

"You have this weird fear about red ribbon necklaces because of a book you read in third grade, your first guitar has this giant ugly--sorry dude, but you cannot write legibly to save your life, 'This machine slays dragons' quote across it and--oh!"

 He was so fucking stupid. The answer was literally staring at him in the face, dangling around Eddie's neck. 

Steve snapped his fingers excitedly. "The guitar pick on your neck is your moms!"

Eddie’s mouth open and closes like a fish, long enough that the smile slowly slides off of Steve’s face.  

"How the fuck do you know all that?" He manages after a long, tortuous moment, looking like he’d been sucker punched. 

Again. 

With the most pained look his face can manage, Steve finally answers. "Time travel."

Eddie blinks.

Then blinks again. 

 "Time travel." He echoes faintly. 

"Yeah. I'm from 1986, where things kinda got really fucked up."

"No kidding?" Eddie says, right before he erupts into giggles. 

"Did they get you in the head?" Steve asks, abruptly concerned, as Eddie collapses back against the wall in a growing fit of laughter.  

Concussed Eddie was not a road he wanted to go down but Steve knew better than anyone what happens if you ignore such things. 

"I think my weed just hit." Eddie explains as he wipes away a tear, and Steve wants to shake him, but knows it won't get him anywhere. 

"That's great. That's just great."  He grumbles, hands going onto his hips. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get you a bandage. And then find Robin.” 

Robin, Steve decided, could handle a high, concussed Eddie.

[nat-space-obsessed]

Day 6: Immortal AU

I guess the Everlasting Trio ain't so everlasting lmao

Danny's hair is a little funky but I tried!!

I had fun drawing bones!

[newvegascowboy]

"Hit me," Red says, apropos of nothing.

Although, Arcade muses to himself after a second of reflection, Red's motives are usually too impulsive and insane for Arcade to understand anyway.

"Why?"

"Because I want to see something," Red says. "So hit me."

"I'm not going to hit you, Red."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm-" Arcade cuts himself off. The word busy dies on his tongue. Red wouldn't buy it - they'd cornered him in a shady section of the fort, taking an over long break and debating the wisdom of having a smoke, free from under the eye of doctors who might tell him that he knows better. Like a specter, Red had appeared to alleviate his boredom. Or enable bad decisions. With Red, one never knew. "Because," Arcade finishes lamely.

Red grins, because it's a shitty excuse, and they both know it. "I know you're hidin' some muscle under that ratty old lab coat." One finger prods at Arcade's chest. He resists the urge to slap it away. "So use it."

"Usually if I hit someone, they've done something to deserve it," Arcade says.

Red's ever present smirk broadens. "Haven't I?"

Grudgingly, Arcade mutters, "Not lately."

"I could call you mean names if you like."

"You're a child." To Arcade's embarrassment, it comes out sounding fonder than he intends. This time, he does push the offending finger away.

Red huffs a little laugh, tilting their chin up. "I've been called worse."

"No doubt," Arcade says mildly.

"Prick."

Arcade laughs, a short snort of laughter he attempts to cover by looking away, towards the courtyard of the Fort, where Followers and Freesiders alike are bustling about. It's an overcast day - not cool by any means, humid and warm, but the world is taking advantage of the absence of the Mojave's merciless sun, however brief. Maybe, if they're lucky, it'll rain. The monsoons are fabulous, short lived, destructive and violent like everything else in this godforsaken desert, but Arcade would welcome the change of pace.

He turns his eyes back to Red, damnably two inches taller than him and always standing in such a way that forces Arcade to acknowledge it. "Work on your playground insults, cowboy. I'm not that easily riled."

"Liar," Red laughs. It is, regrettably, true. At least when it comes to Red. "Besides, I'm saving my better insults for when I need 'em."

"Do you anticipate needing them soon?"

Red shrugs. "You never know."

"No, you don't anticipate much," Arcade says. "Not much of a planner."

"I find that life is more exciting when it surprises me."

"I might agree with you," Arcade says, "If the surprises that usually involve you didn't take the form of bullets."

"Not always bullets. Sometimes bombs."

"Wonderful," Arcade says dryly.

"Come on," Red says, drawing the word out in a petulant whine unbecoming an outlaw of their fearsome reputation. "Don't be such a homebody. See something new."

"Where exactly are we going that you expect me to get into a fist fight?"

"The Ultra Luxe."

Arcade's mouth twitches. He glances Red up and down. "The Ultra Luxe," he repeats. "Tell me, are you planning on wearing dirty jeans and chaps, or did you have a set specifically made?"

"Ha ha," Red says bitingly, rolling their eyes. "I own nice clothes, asshole, I just don't run around the wasteland in rhinestones."

Arcade eyes the portion of Red's unbuttoned shirt, displaying a generous slash of tanned and muscled skin. Their rosary dangles from their neck today, glinting in the weak sun, over a belt buckle that reads 'Cocky'. "Maybe you should," he murmurs.

"I thought I was the one antagonizing you?"

"Do a better job," Arcade shoots back. "Or have you lost your touch?"

Red sniffs, drawing back and crossing their arms. "Prick," they say again.

"Why me?" Arcade asks. "Why not Veronica? Or Boone?" Or Cass, Red's one-time paramour - but he doesn't know if they're on speaking terms. Arcade isn't sure he knows the story there, and isn't sure he wants to.

Red snorts. "Boone? He's worse than I am for what I have in mind."

"And Veronica?" She's better at a fistfight than Arcade, that's certain.

"I already asked. Apparently, her version of a good night at the Luxe doesn't involve bloodshed."

"Neither does mine," Arcade mutters. Red only smiles. Sighing, Arcade pulls off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "If I hit you, can we be done with this conversation? I do have work to do."

The look on Red's face says that Red does not believe him in the slightest, but they nod, stepping back. Arcade replaces his glasses and shrugs out of his lab coat, laying it over a nearby crate. He unbuttons his cuffs rolling up his shirtsleeves, and tries to ignore Red's smirk.

"I like the show, Gannon, I do. Really feel like I'm gonna get it."

"Keep running your mouth, and you will."

Red's grin turns sharklike. "Is that supposed to turn me off?"

Lifting his fists, Arcade sighs. "I don't think anything does," he says, and swings.

His fist hits nothing but air. Red sidesteps his first swing with ease. Arcade frowns, stepping forward and swinging again. Boots scuff the gravel as Red steps back, moving with an ease that someone their height, with the broadness of their shoulders and dense muscle, should not be inclined to possess. They continue for a few more blows, Arcade swinging and Red deftly sidestepping, until Arcade drops his hands.

"I thought you wanted me to hit you?" He huffs.

"Yeah, you're doing a piss poor job, aren't you?"

Red doesn't seem offended, a small smile picking up at the corner of their mouth. Warm leather flexes as Red's gloved hand squeezes his knuckles, then drops and gently pushes his fist away. "Never knew you had it in you to fight dirty, Gannon."

Growling, Arcade steps forward, going low and from the left. It's a low blow - Red's blindspot - but he's seen Red in action enough times that he isn't surprised when their left hand flashes up and catches his fist.

And - Arcade should know this. He knows how good Red is in a fight, knows that Red is intimately familiar with the anatomy of violence and anything involving it. If there is one thing Red does best above all, it is killing. Their blind spot would be a legitimate weakness if all Red's instincts didn't scream for them to compensate. If anyone managed to land that blow, Arcade has no doubt it would be the last thing they ever did.

"Maybe I just knew you wouldn't let me hit you."

Red's eyebrows raise the barest fraction. Arcade clears his throat, but doesn't glance away. "Well," Red says. "I am vain, I'll give you that much. I'd hate to let you ruin my good looks. You telegraph the shit out of your punches, by the way."

"Are we done here?"

"No." Red steps forward. Arcade's mouth thins. Gloved hands sieze Arcade's wrists before he can drop them. One boot slides between Arcade's legs, nudging his feet apart. "Bend your knees a little," Red murmurs. "There, like that. You're under-rotating your hips. Not putting as much power behind a punch as you could be. Gotta throw your body weight around a little, Gannon."

Red is close enough that all Arcade can smell is the mix of sweet tobacco and clove, leather and smoke that clings to Red's skin. There's something spicy underneath - pine, maybe. Cologne. Abruptly embarrassed, Arcade attempts to pull back, but Red's got a hold of his hands and their grip is firm.

Glancing up from under the frame of his glasses, Arcade watches as Red pulls his hand up. The knuckles of Arcade's right hand gently make contact with the left corner of Red's jaw. "There," Red says, voice soft and oddly intense. "You win."

Arcade doesn't have it in him to pull away. "Are we done?" He asks instead.

Slowly, Red releases him and steps back. They watch as Arcade unrolls his sleeves and retrieves his lab coat from the crate. Arcade shakes it out, lookjng for an excuse not to look at Red. Their little scuffle had gone unnoticed by the Followers at the Fort, but Arcade knows Julie will hear about it somehow, and will have stern words with him about fighting in the compound. What she doesn't understand, and what Arcade barely understands himself, is that it is seemingly impossible not to give Red exactly what they want. They talk around it, bicker and argue, and no matter how sound Arcade thinks his logic or willpower is, somehow he always caves.

When he finally looks up, the odd intensity that had possessed Red is gone, and they're smoking idly while leaning against the wall. Their eyes are turned out towards the compound, but they glance his way when Arcade looks up. Pushing off the wall, Red says, "I'll pick you up at seven."

"What?" Arcade says. "I never agreed to go to the Luxe with you!"

Red only blinks slowly. "Are you gonna wear that old lab coat," they start, "Or do you have something specially made?"

Arcade flushes. "You are such an asshole."

Red laughs and begins their retreat towards the gates. "Seven," they call, then turn on their heel and jog out of the fort.

Arcade sighs. Seven.

[astrhae]

some important and underrated lines in the books, related to wylan van eck (aka gold that i found again while writing the character study fic):

Wylan took a deep breath as if sucking in courage and sputtered, “You won’t throw me overboard. You need me.”

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 13. when i say wylan is unhinged, i mean he had the audacity to lie to kaz brekker (who doesn't know yet that wylan isn't the best hostage) AND use that lie to go against kaz AND actually win. jesper only notices wylan lying to kaz in the second book, but despite being wide-eyed as matthias describes, wylan's been lying to kaz from the very beginning. throughout the books, wylan gets better and better at using people's assumptions of him as a weapon/tool, and he admits as much when jesper says: "i'm going to stop underestimating you", and wylan replies: "then you're going to be a lot harder to surprise."

While Kaz explained and Jesper used the laundry shears to portion out pieces of rope, Wylan helped Inej and Nina prepare. To pass as members of the Menagerie, they would need tattoos.

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 28. wylan is CANONICALLY a tattoo artist. demolitionist. poisons expert. musician. and tattoo artist. do with that what you will

“I don’t like the idea of killing people, either. I don’t even like chemistry.”

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 32. HE LIKES NUMBERS. and music. and jesper. there's just something about wylan being forced into chemistry when he doesn't truly enjoy it, vs. everything his father's forced him to do when he doesn't truly enjoy it. he says this right after the we could wake him up line, and him mentioning that he doesn't even like what he's been doing all along underscores how much wylan's ruthlessness comes from a place where he doesn't want to be cruel. he's just. had to do a lot of things to survive. and he does want to survive

Gunfire sounded from above. Apparently, Wylan had found the controls. ... Wylan had scratches from the glass all over his cheeks and neck. He was beaming.

--- Six of Crows, Chapter 39. wylan is unhinged. truly. and i love him, really. he was really the first to figure out how to fire the tank. him, not jesper, which was a choice i very much approve of

He should be making a plan, maybe even plotting revenge, trying to gather his wits and his resources. And what was he doing? Wishing he could ring for tea... Whatever it took to survive the Barrel, Wylan knew he didn’t have it.

--- Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 23. first, wylan wishing he could ring for tea, vs. the parallel in the show where he offers the crows tea. second, wylan being painfully honest with himself. but third, he ends the chapter being able to navigate the streets of the barrel himself without knowing how to read the signs, which really reflects his amazingly good memory and skill for thinking along three axes, like the lockpick kaz compared him to

“Yes,” Wylan said, that one word imbued with a whole world of hope. “But I don’t have anything to bargain with.”

--- Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 28. wylan's spent so long bargaining for his life that by the time he meets genya, he doesn't believe he has anything left to bargain with. but wylan still tries, AND when he succeeds, he still has the audacity to get genya to make him look better

in conclusion, wylan might be shy but that doesn't mean he isn't scheming something, but that doesn't mean he wants to scheme, but that doesn't mean he isn't good at scheming. he's excellent at it, he's just an unhinged ball of contradictions, and wylan would, could, and should beat kaz in a chess match

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

2024 tuesdaypost retrospective

it's hard not to make this all about my nearly full 365 days of unemployment. i have cut a great deal from this wrapup. thank you all for your love and support (often financial!) this year :') it has never been scarier to have no familial safety net and i really, really appreciate all of you relative strangers (i have met very few of you in person!)

jobs applied to: my best estimate is 4500 given my daily target balanced with periods of more acute despair and physical illness

interviews: 2

calls to the massachusetts unemployment agency: 73

cats spayed and/or neutered: 3 (phil, orange boy, ruby)

eclipses seen: 1

hurricanes: 1

completely fallow weeks: 5

i have GOT to be more specific about writing out loud what worked and what didn't work instead of resorting to "vibes were off". i also have to remember to be better about saying where i found things and saying the premise/genre of the film. i try to draft these on sunday nights so i can kind of mull things over for a bit, but that rarely happened this year.

highlights of the year: a tomato plant in a five gallon bucket, hotvintagepoll, the eclipse, my new zebrawood desk, throwing my own birthday party (NOT passive aggressive it was very comforting to be in full control), ren faire, the modern zelda games, genshin impact, heist films, naomi novik's temeriare series, Navigational Entanglements by Aliette de Bodard, the Popping Tins newsletter about tinned fish products, new joywave and beyonce and charli xcx and kesha albums, and an actual play podcast focused on critical worldbuilding smart characterization and fun interaction between good friends.

questions? comments? concerns? something about the structure/critique of these posts or a work i talked about really click or really not work for you? i would love to know!

listening

all the tuesdaysongs are in one spotify playlist below. if i recced a whole album (only did that this year with The Offline’s La couleur de la mer and Toshiyuke Honda's SONGS OF THE MILKY WAY ) i put the song i thought most representative of the album.

special shoutouts to the Well There's Your Problem engineering disasters podcast, the Sangfielle season of Friends at the Table, The 404 Media Podcast news/tech/culture podcast, and the Whale Hunting podcast about financial crimes.

i would like to find music through other avenues than the spotify weekly recs playlists, especially since the platform has noticeably nosedived after their last round of firing people. unforch i have yet to find a music influencer/blog/tastemaker/podcast whose tastes jive with my own.

-

reading

the sort of three broad categories of stuff i talk about in the reading section are articles, comics, and actual books. fairly pleased with my RSS feed, which is filling the twitter hole and also has a separate Real US News tab i can look at in a more controlled manner. people seem to have liked the article/book combo bc reading a book a week is usually kind of a heavy lift for people who are employed. as long as i do either an article or a book i feel like this category is checked off in my brain. i would like to do both more weeks and figure out how to do more concise book reports. i am pleased that people seem to like the couple weeks of giant DNF lists where i briefly state why i did not finish a specific older scifi paperback.

shoutout to @rae-being-naughty for introducing me to one of my favorite new authors, t kingfisher! what a delectable niche. those books go down SO easy. shoutouts also to the temeraire books, Trouble And Her Friends by Melissa Scott (what if neuromancer was good?), Dark Wire by Joseph Cox (nonfiction about the encrypted phone company the FBI shadow-ran) and Witch Hat Atelier.

the OPPOSITE of a shoutout to the most frustrating books i did not finish this year, a fragile enchantment by allison saft (the very weird fantasy meghan/harry fantasy au????) and jennifer dugan's the ride of her life, a cowgirl wlw romance that had some kid pop up in the second chapter and yell about how they shipped the leads and were making a tiktok about it. hello??????? huh????? i had that book on hold for SIX MONTHS. what the fuck did people see in that book???

reading and holding and interacting with a physical hard copy book is so much better for my shattered attention span, and i have giant bookcases full of physical books i desperately want to read, but i read ebooks so much faster. a dilemma that will for sure continue into the new year.

-

watching

logged almost 169 things on letterboxd this year so far (almost nice). the giant spike is when i watched a a dozen individually loggable betty boop shorts. tasty tasty stats.

saw one entire film (howl's moving castle) in theaters and i do not think i will be doing that again bc (while fun) it was a very anxiety inducing experience.

more tv and shorts and tv comprised entirely of shorts than i expected to watch this year!

watching highlights of the year:

-

playing

the gaming rig i bought in 2020 is really staring to show its age and only very light-resource pc games are feasible rn. very many thanks to both @sybilius and @pasta-pardner who both bought me games i will one day play!

spent most of the year with big open world exploration/puzzle/action games, as is traditional. barely touched a fallout this year, which is less traditional.

by hours, the ranking is probably

genshin impact

breath of the wild

tears of the kingdom

STUFF SORT on my phone

stardew valley

powerwash simulator

what are people interested in seeing in this section?

the trouble with this section is that has been a thorn in my side basically since i started this series, but games are such a part of my life it feels weird NOT talking about them? but talking about video games is difficult bc none of them are very good. i find myself Still a little burned out on them even after almost three years on from the video games job. finding something fun and free on itch or steam is very time-consuming. every time i talk about genshin i feel like i have to caveat it with one million Don't Play Gacha Games warning stickers like the ones that come on cigarettes. and i don't feel like a screenshot of whatever achievement i hunted on genshin in a specific week is very interesting to people.

maybe the solution is to cut this section for a while and have a special bonus add on section every once in a while??? i dunno. would love to know people's thoughts here on how to make talking about/telling stories about the games i play more interesting.

-

making

the tuesdayposts as a whole have been both very good and very bad for my mental health, bc i really needed a project to work on to break up the soul crushing monotony of writing cover letters. however writing the tuesdaypost every week was often a very anxiety inducing expereince bc i felt like i didn't do much. or did stuff very unevenly. the "point" of the tuesdayposts is to remind myself every week that absorbing a lot of different things helps me stay on a more even keel. esp in times of great unrest. unfortunately, a year of unemployment.

i saw my siblings twice, managed to actually write and post christmas cards, framed a bunch of shit, discovered a new favorite soup, and did some indifferent gardening and cross stitch.

the making section this year tended to be more lifestyle blogging/what i cleaned. a lot of weeks i did not have Anything in the tank except basic vacuuming and halfhearted wiping counters down.

however??? i managed to post three fics??? two were previously written but at least they are no longer languishing on my harddrive??

this goofy little NFT genderswap blondeyes has the craziest hits to kudos ratio on anything ive ever written.

i really do intend on finishing this cait/fahrenheit 5+1. the stars have not been aligned.

this very brief crossover has gotten some of the loveliest comments!!! when i am done directing and choreographing the big prisoner/arcade argument in my brain i am excited to actually write that.

im genuinely for real afraid to ask or expect anything of 2025, but here it comes anyway!

[insomnya777]

Travelling through the woods was a bad idea during the day, but in the middle of the night, alone, it was downright idiotic.

Now Joel's cold (should've brought a sweater like Grian told him to, but, in his defence, that would have ruined his outfit) and wet (fell in a creek) and dirty (fell in a blummin' creek) and he wants to kill himself (no elaboration necessary).

As he's walking, his foot suddenly catches on a branch, pulling him forward and, oh, shoot, he goes falling backwards into the mud and bugs and god-knows-what. And is that a rip in his favourite shirt? Because if it is he's going to burn this entire forest down to the ground and–

"Who are you?"

Joel startles so hard he thinks he may have just had a mini heart attack. Hand on his chest, he catches his breath, craning his head to look up at who just spoke to him. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Read on AO3

[iwritewhump]

"Let them go"

day twenty-six of whumptember

739 words

warnings: drugging, kidnapping, conditioned whumpee

~

Living Weapon slides across the floor of the van as it skids to a stop. Handler hops out of the driver’s seat and opens the door, “Hurry up.” 

It crawls out of the van and smooths out its shirt. It huffs and stares at the ground. 

Handler tilts her head accusingly and hisses, “Do you have something you need to say?” 

“No,” it replies, wringing its hands behind its back. “Let’s just…get this over with.” 

Handler smiles tightly and claps Living Weapon on the back. It tenses under her hand and exhales sharply. It closes its eyes and tightens its hand into a fist, its nails digging into the palm of its hand. 

Handler walks forward, snapping her fingers at Living Weapon to get it to follow her.

She stops right outside the boundary to the park and pulls Living Weapon under a tree. She points around the trunk and sighs. “There’s Sidekick. Make sure no one is watching and bring him back here.” 

It nods and glides into the park. A parent sitting on a bench glances at it and nudges another parent, soon everyone in the park will be looking at it. 

It curses and runs over to Sidekick with a plastered on smile. “Hi, I’m sorry, but can I borrow your phone? I need to make a call but mine’s dead.” 

Sidekick looks it up and down before shrugging. He holds the phone out to Living Weapon. It sighs gratefully and takes the phone in its hands. 

It dials a phony number and looks at Sidekick apologetically, “I’m so sorry, but do you mind if I go just right over there?” it points to where Handler is hiding in the shadow. “It’s a bit private. I mean-if you want to you can come but I don’t want everyone in the park being able to hear. Y’know?”

Sidekick nods enthusiastically and practically ushers it out of the wide open park. As soon as they pass the gate to the park, Living Weapon drops the phone onto the ground and when Sidekick bends down to pick it up, it wraps an arm around his throat. It clasps its other hand over his mouth and tightens the arm around his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” it whispers, pulling him to his feet and dragging him over to Handler. Sidekick thrashes in its arms, trying to scream through its Living Weapon’s hand. Living Weapon drags him behind Handler’s hiding spot and lifts him off his feet. 

Handler steps out of the shadows and smiles cruelly, “Sidekick, it’s been a while.” 

His breathing becomes erratic and Living Weapon can feel his pulse quicken through the vein on his neck. He shakes his head and tries to stomp his foot on its. 

Handler walks up to him and puts her hand on his cheek, “Now, now. Is that any way to treat an old friend?” 

He exhales sharply and glares daggers at her. She rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. She looks at Living Weapon and nods, “You know what to do?” 

It shakes its head, tears springing into its eyes. She purses her lips and nods, “Yes. You do. So let’s see some action.” 

In one swift movement, Living Weapon removes the hand around Sidekick’s throat and pulls the syringe out of its pocket. It uses its teeth to take the cap off and sinks the needle into Sidekick’s shoulder. It presses on the plunger and watches as the almost clear liquid is pushed into Sidekick’s arm. 

Sidekick starts to go limp almost as soon as it pulls the needle out of his arm. He looks at Handler and asks, “What the hell was that?” 

“I’m not…one hundred percent sure to be honest.” She says, tilting her head. 

Living Weapon drops the syringe and props Sidekick up against itself. It wraps its arms around his torso and says again, “I’m sorry.” 

Handler waves her hand and scoffs, “Let him go.” 

Living Weapon takes a breath and looks at Sidekick, limp in its arms, and stares at Handler. She stares at him, shock painted on her face. 

“Living Weapon…” she warns, voice spine-chillingly low, “Let. Him. Go.” 

It looks at him once again, and it wishes it could keep a hold of him. It wishes it could disobey Handler. 

Sidekick falls to the ground with a stomach turning thump and the leaves crunch underneath him, releasing their moldy scent into the air.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Not Enough to Not Know Better

Day #6 - Prompt: Dizzy/Drunken Confessions | Word Count: 1189 | Rating: E | CW: Sex, Language, Alcohol | POV: Eddie | Tags: Friends to Lovers, Drunken Confessions, Steve's Gonna Make This Happen For Them, Clothed Sex

"Is the room spinning, or just my brain?"

Eddie lulls his head to the side, trying to keep his eyes open as he looks at Steve, who is all but passed out on the couch. Sprawled out, comfortable, and for some reason, now missing his shirt. 

Eddie allows his gaze to linger, taking in Steve's stomach, and especially the thick thatch of chest hair creeping all the way up towards his neck. It's gorgeous, and lush, just like the hair on Steve's head. Eddie wants to run his fingers through both. Wants to pull, stroke, lick.  

When it peeks out of his collar, sometimes Eddie fears that he'll do something stupid without thinking it through. 

"I think we're stationary," Eddie says, and Steve giggles like he's said the funniest bit of a stand-up routine. The best punchline, saved for last. But, it wasn't that funny, Steve's just drunk. Eddie knows that. Is absolutely sure of it.

"Stationary. Station. Airy," Steve mumbles, still laughing to himself. 

"You're drunk, Harrington," Eddie says, not totally sure that he isn't right behind Steve on that. 

"A little bit," Steve answers, moving to roll over onto his stomach, and it's the most awkward maneuver Eddie's ever seen anyone, or anything, ever make. 

Steve finally gets settled in, wallering a spot into the couch, and Eddie hopes he doesn't suffocate with his face pressed into the cushion like it is. Finally Steve turns his head, laying his cheek on the upholstery.

His flushed cheek. Probably from the alcohol, or maybe he just got a little sun outside today. Usually Steve's tans right up, though. It's Eddie that has to worry about becoming a lobster.

Eddie looks at him. At Steve's chest, arms, back. It's all golden, and covered in freckles and moles that Eddie would love to count, to map.

Bite.

Eddie just takes in his body, looking down, down, down. Trying not to linger on the place where his jeans have ridden down, just a little. As tight as Steve wears them, that seems impossible, but he's seeing the waistband of Steve's underwear. Briefs, he thinks, not boxers.

His eyes are roaming too hard, and he needs to get himself under control. He starts to move them away, when Steve rolls his hips, keeping his attention. Grinding right against the fabric of the couch, and now Eddie can't look away. No way in hell, not as Steve rolls his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. 

Eddie reaches down to adjust himself in his own jeans, and Steve meets his eyes. Eddie knows he's been caught, but Steve started this first. Eddie's just fighting horny with horny. He can't be blamed. Not for this.

"Sometimes," Steve says, just above a whisper, eyes still locked on Eddie's, "sometimes I do this and think about you."

"Jesus H. Christ, Harrington. How drunk are you?"

"Enough to not care what I'm saying. Not enough to not know better," Steve says, smiling. It's lazy, and beautiful. 

"You've lost your mind," Eddie whispers, maybe just as much to himself as to Steve, but he shifts his hand, covers his own now-hard dick, and grinds against the heel of his hand.

"Maybe," Steve says, hips still moving, still chasing that little bit of death, "but it's still true."

"Goddamn," Eddie whines under his breath, and Steve keeps moving, keeps grinding, keeps looking right into his eyes, except for when he's flicking glances down towards Eddie's hand. Towards his dick.

Eddie wishes Steve was grinding on him that way. Maybe he would. If Eddie could only bring himself to ask.

Steve beats him to the punch.

"Show me. Let me see," Steve says, "I want to. It's all I think about. You. Me. Us."

That's almost enough for it to all be over before it even gets started. There's not an us, not that Eddie is aware of anyway, and only in his wildest fucking dreams, could that ever be true.

And right now. Apparently.

Eddie leans back, sprawling out on the floor, and keeps working his cock through his jeans. Now he can't see Steve, but he can feel his eyes. The heat from them.

"Well, c'mere if you're coming," Eddie says, and he hears the couch move, shift.

Eddie kicks his legs out wider, and Steve crawls on top of him, laying down, slotting himself between Eddie's thighs. Pressing flush against him. Grinding against Eddie, now. Not the couch.

It's better. It's so much better.

Eddie runs his hands up and down Steve's bare back, finally getting to touch all that warm skin he's fantasized about.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie breathes out, pressing upwards against Steve, hard cock against hard cock, and even through his jeans it's the best thing he's ever felt. Steve Harrington can dry hump him any fucking day of the week and twice on Sunday. Eddie doesn't even need to see anything.

He wants to see, obviously, but this would be a god's plenty. He grabs at Steve's jean-clad ass, and pulls their bodies closer and closer together. 

He's gonna come. 

And he hopes Steve will, too.

Steve shifts, and Eddie hopes this isn't over, and it's not. Steve just shoves upwards, hard, catching Eddie's lips with his own. Sliding his tongue right into Eddie's mouth, and he tastes like beer, and pizza, and fucking heaven. Eddie doesn't care. Beer, onion, garlic, whatever. Bring it on.

Steve keeps rolling, and shifting, and grinding and Eddie wishes they were full-on fucking, because he feels like he's getting a pretty fucking awesome preview to what that might look like. He's memorizing Steve's movements, how fluid they are, how fucking hot. 

Top, bottom, Eddie doesn't care. He's versatile, open to anything, so long as they get to do this together, do everything. He wants Steve, and now he thinks he might get to have him.

Steve hitches, his breath, his body, and then lets out a groan that will live in Eddie's bones for the rest of his days, as he comes in his jeans, on top of Eddie.

Eddie follows, clutching at Steve's ass, holding them together, coming. Steve's breathing into Eddie's open mouth in short, desperate bursts as he tries to come back to himself from this.

Eddie gets that. He definitely gets that. 

He feels wrung out.

Then Steve laughs.

Giggles, really, flopping down on Eddie, making the mess worse for the both of them, surely, but Eddie doesn't let go. He wraps his arms around Steve's back, squeezing him, holding him close, for as long as Steve will allow it. 

Eventually, Steve pushes himself upwards, and off Eddie. Standing, and offering Eddie both of his hands, pulling him to his feet.

"I need a shower. You wanna take a shower with me?" Steve asks, yanking Eddie right into his chest, catching him. He no longer looks as drunken and unsteady as he did.

Maybe Steve was drunk on horniness as much, if not more so, than on the actual alcohol. Either way, Eddie just nods. 

Because, yes. Yes, he'd like to do that very much. 

Steve winks, and grabs Eddie's hand, tugging him towards the staircase.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

[averagepsychouser]

I don’t think enough people are making Arcade Gannon witness eldritch horrors and comprehend them. Where is sci-fi horror movie protagonist Gannon.

[apomaro-mellow]

Eddie steals the Hope Diamond; spicy six heist au

"I thought the centerpiece of this museum was a t-rex skeleton. What’s an elephant doing here?”, Eddie asked.

“That’s Night at the Museum, man. You’re thinking of the movie”, Jonathan said from next to him.

“Kinda disappointed to be honest. I go right you go left?”

Jonathan went to the left of the entrance while Eddie went right. Nancy was speaking to them both through earpieces. Getting a map of the museum was a fine way to get a general layout. But nothing beat getting actual feet on the ground.

Eddie moved around, letting the traffic of the museum move him. He knew he was moving in a non-linear fashion, but it was hard not to double back when he saw an interesting diorama or model.

“Eddie, don’t get distracted”, Nancy warned.

“Who me? Perish the thought”, he said, fully intending to do recon in the fossil exhibit, only to pass by the hall of gems and minerals. He let out a low whistle.

“I know who you would be perfect for”, he murmured to himself. But Nancy could hear him loud and clear through the earpiece.

“Eddie…we are not stealing the Hope Diamond.”

Eddie liked jewelry. And he liked Steve. Scratch that, he loved Steve. And he loved putting him in pretty things. That diamond necklace was a very pretty thing.

“It can be our little secret Nancy. I wanna surprise Steve with something nice.”

“Then buy him a legit diamond with your cut. We have a client that we need to keep happy.”

“I can multitask.” There was quite the crowd around the diamond, watching as it rotated in its case. Obviously he knew it wouldn’t be easy to lift it, even with their team. But they were already going to be in the museum to steal something from the Ancient Egypt exhibit. Why not get something else on the way out?

He and Jonathan finished cruising the museum and returned to the apartment space they were currently using to plan this job.

As expected, Nancy had a map of the whole place, all floors included spread out on a large table in the living room.

“We start at 1200 hours”, Nancy said. “By the end of this, we should have some T-rex teeth and have enough to pad our accounts for quite some time. Eddie, did you get a good look at the teeth.”

“I did. Between me and Bucks, we should have some decent replicas in time.”

Nancy nodded. “Don’t forget to reference Jonathan’s pics too. We need them to be flawless.”

“Alright, so everybody know their parts?”, Robin asked.

“I’m one part of the distraction with a pizza delivery”, Argyle said. “Once the guy’s out there, I keep him occupied for as long as I can.”

“Jonathan and I will handle the security cameras. We go in, knock ‘em out, and make sure it switches to our pre-made loop”, Steve said while twirling a pen in his hand.

“Steve keeps guard by the door and I keep an eye on the cameras. If we need any interception, he’ll run point”, Jonathan added.

“Once everything’s set, Big Wheel and I will do the switcheroo”, Eddie illustrated by juggling some of the stones he’d bought at the gift shop. None of with were as eye-catching as the diamond.

“Once we bag the teeth, we meet up with Robin in the van and then we’re out”, Nancy said.

Argyle raised his hand up for a high five which Jonathan answered. “And another one in the books.”

Steve pulled Eddie away from the others into the kitchen and gently pressed him against the fridge. Eddie initiated a kiss, ready for some lovin’. Going over a plan always got Steve hot for some reason. Not that he was complaining.

But then Steve pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Nancy said you’re planning on doing something stupid.”

Ah, this was an interrogation.

“Is it stupid to act on my desires and do what I please?”

“Is this like the art museum where you just had to touch that Pollock painting?”, Steve asked.

Eddie avoided his eyes. “Something like that.” If Steve kept at it, he would end up telling him everything. And he wanted it to be a surprise. He just knew the look on his love’s face when he presented the necklace would be worth more than all the gems in the world.

He cradled Steve’s face and kissed him and then kissed him again. “Just trust me, baby.”

He’d never do anything to put Steve in danger. And he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think he could swing it.

As Nancy had planned, the op began at midnight. The pizza gambit, which Nancy had only been 40% sure would work, actually did. When Steve and Jonathan successfully made it to the surveillance room and took over, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she only had to worry about the wild card in the group. Eddie pretty much always deferred to her leadership. But anything regarding Steve was like invoking impulse.

Nancy was working on removing the first tooth when she saw Eddie looking up at the cameras. He bit his lip and then turned to her.

“I gotta do it.”

“You realize it’s stupid and reckless, right?”, she said in a whisper but kept her eyes on the fossil.

“Love makes you crazy. But I don’t need to remind you. Madrid ring any bells?”

Nancy paused in her work. Madrid, right. “Just don’t get caught or it really will be like Madrid.”

Eddie was already making his way from the fossils to the gems. He turned his earpiece on.

“Robin, Jonathan, mind giving me a little help?”

“Holy shit”, Jonathan hissed, pulling Steve’s attention from the door.

“Nancy was right, you are stupid”, Robin said with a shake of her head as she watched the feed from the van.

“What is it? What’s Eddie doing?”, Steve asked, coming over to look at the monitors.

Jonathan changed the one Eddie was on just in time. “He’s uh, taking a little detour.”

“I’m going. Where is he?”

“Steve, stay focused”, Nancy said. “Eddie will be fine.”

They heard footsteps and Steve’s head whipped towards the door. Thankfully, he was already changed into a guard’s outfit. He stuck his head out and saw a guard headed their way. If he looked in the room, he’d see two unconscious dudes on the floor and two guys who didn’t belong there.

Steve came out and closed the door.

“Hey!”

“Hey”, Steve replied.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What am I-? What am I doing here? Why are you speaking to me like that? Like you don’t know me?”

“Because I don’t”, the guard said.

Steve let his shoulders sag a little and made his eyes a little bigger. “I know what he made was kind of a fling but I thought...I don’t know maybe it could be something more.” The guard looked taken aback but not indignant. Good. “You really don’t remember me?”

“I think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Eddie listened while Steve flirted and it both made him proud and made him burn with jealousy. He’d have just the thing to show him who he belonged to later.

He knew Nancy was done when he heard two clicks. Eddie had closed the necklace up in a box prepared just for the occasion. When he rendezvoused up with Nancy, her eyes narrowed at the box.

“So you were going to do it anyway.”

“You know me, I’m like a dog with a bone.”

They got to the van and were shortly joined by Argyle.

“How was having the easiest job today?”, Robin asked.

“Easy, my ass.”

“Yeah, your ass. All you had to do was smoke with a security guard”, Eddie said.

“It was so goddamn tedious. He just went on and on about Robocop.”

Jonathan and Steve returned just about a minute after and Eddie immediately pulled Steve into his lap.

“There’s my baby.”

“And that’s officially another one in the books”, Argyle said, high fiving with Robin. “Celebration dinner?”

“I’m in the mood for French”, Robin said.

“If you guys are going out, you can drop me and Steve off at the apartment”, Eddie said while stroking his thigh.

The other groaned but Robin made her way there anyway. If going over the plan made Steve hot, a successful one with no hitches made him hornier than anything. He was already kissing at Eddie’s neck so he wasn’t sure what they were surprised by.

The others took off for dinner, leaving them alone with the fossil teeth to deliver in exchange for cash in the morning. Steve had Eddie pressed against a wall, kissing him but this time Eddie pulled away.

“I got a gift for you, gorgeous.”

“Hm?”

“But I need you to strip first.” All he needed was Steve. Anything else would get in the way of his beauty.

Steve smirked and turned away from Eddie. Just to be cheeky, he took off his shoes and socks first. Then he turned away and took off his shirt while heading to their room. He left a trail of clothes behind him, which Eddie dutifully picked up so he wouldn’t be chewed out by Nancy later.

When he got to the room, Steve was perched on the edge of the bed, one knee up to his chest.

Eddie almost forgot his actual intention and took him right there.

“Well? My gift?”, Steve reminded him.

“Right, right. The gift.” Eddie dropped the clothes and got the box. He got down on his knees and opened up the case, presenting the necklace.

“Eddie..”, Steve’s voice was breathless and he sat a little straighter. “You didn’t...”

“I did, baby. I saw it and I thought of you.”

Eddie got up and sat behind Steve to put it on him. He kissed his nape once he was done and Steve turned so he could get the full visual.

“How do I look?”

It was as Eddie had suspected. The hope diamond was a nice piece of finery on its own. But on the neck of the most handsome man in the world, it truly shined. Eddie could understand why a blue rock had been coveted for so long.

“You make it look so good”, Eddie said before leaning in for a kiss. Honestly it was like the necklace had been made for Steve specifically. As Steve laid out under him, Eddie got to observe the work of art he was. God, he deserved to be immortalized.

“If this was just a regular gift, I wonder how you’re gonna top it when you propose”, Steve teased as he lifted Eddie’s shirt over his head.

“Sweet thing for your engagement ring, I’m giving you the moon.”

Steve’s peal of laughter turned into sighs as Eddie nipped at his chest around the necklace. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would at least try a moon heist. He just wondered how much grief the others would give them for it.