#the focal line

[clottedscream]

Yearly redraw number 9!!!!!

[Image ID: A digital painting of a girl resting on a ledge. She strikes a casual pose, popping a bubblegum bubble and scratching the back of her head. She's dressed in a 2010s-skater-grunge sort of style with a pair of high waisted jorts, denim vans, mismatched slouchy socks, a black tank top, and a ratty, splatter-painted overshirt that says "PUKE" in bold block letters. In the foreground beside her, a skateboard with the same splatter-paint design, and mismatched wheels matching her socks, is propped against the wall. It's covered in stickers, including some cats, a lesbian flag, and a bumper sticker that says "defund the M****rfuckers" with asterisks. The background is a placid suburban scene in watercolor style, with trees casting dappled shadows over the foreground. The sun is low in the sky, as though it were both early morning and late afternoon at the same time. Her large yellow headphones and pink gum bubble create a visual link between her and the wheels of her skateboard, as though the skateboard were a part of her. END ID]

[heyitsmelouiss]

If this is true it’s fucking annoying lmaoo

[xxbottlecapx]

I liked your post about Steve having focal seizures and Eddie figured it out because he happened to be familiar with them because of past experiences, but tbh Robin seems like she could also be someone who could pin that down. We've seen her talk about medical stuff before, specifically with the rabies rant, but I'd like to think she often looks at conditions and she finds them morbidly interesting. Can I get a version where Robin is the first to notice? I'm thinking Billy caused them, but they happen seldom until the Russians make them worse, so she notices something but doesn't piece together that he's not just being stupid until after the Russians, but you can decide how you want to do it if you even decide to

You are absolutely right. I’m not entirely proud of how this came out but this is what I got, I hope it’s okay 💜💜

1985 scoops ahoy, before the fire. 

Robin didn’t know much about Steve Harrington. 

Well, that was a lie. She was a people watcher, after all. Robin knew a lot about Steve Harrington. She knew he had been the self proclaimed (Tommy-proclaimed) King of Hawkins High. That is, until Billy Hargrove smashed his face in and Steve started rolling around with a band of middle schoolers. His downward spiral had started with Nancy Wheeler and ended with Billy Hargrove (and Jonathan was, she had been told, somewhere in the mix.) 

Steve was bad at school but good with people, bad at reading but good at speaking, bad at instruments but good with sports. Good at making friends but bad at keeping them. 

He had graduated alone. No one was there with him when he left Hawkins high that final time. As far as Robin was aware, no one seemed to care when he left at all. Robin only noticed because she was a people watcher. She liked to know things. She liked to know things about people in any way she could. At first it had just been her wanting to mimic whatever it was that King Steve did that made Tammy Thompson like him, but it quickly became a fascination. She couldn’t even tell you why. But the longer she watched him, the more intrigued she got. Especially after Billy Hargrove. 

Either way, no matter what she did or did not know about Steve Harrington; The Steve Harrington she knew of from highschool was definitely not the Steve Harrington that applied to Scoops Ahoy. 

“Hi, uh, I’m- Steve,” The King Steve said. He was wearing the proper Scoops Ahoy Gear, but his hat was one backwards. 

Robin hadn't been told she was getting a new coworker. Yesterday, Daksha seemed absolutely fine. But today she was gone. And in her place was the former King Steve, in all his lack of glory. 

“What about Daksha?” Robin said instead of greeting him in kind. He hadn’t been a nice guy. Never picked on her specifically, but Tommy sure did. 

Steve doesn’t seem miffed by her deferral. 

“Who?” 

Robin rolls her eyes, grabs his hat to put it on him correctly, and hands him Daksha’s scooper. It was bright pink, bedazzled. She expected some sort of denial but Steve only holds the scooper so stiffly she thinks he might break the handle. 

“I’m Steve.” He blinked rapidly. 

Robin crossed her arms, leaning against one of the tubs of icecream that she liked to steal from when her manager, Kanan, wasn’t looking. She wondered if he would tell on her. 

“Yeah, I know” 

“Sorry, sorry, who-“ he squinted at her, then shook his head and pulled in his shorts. They were definitely too short for him. “Who are you?” 

Robin thinks about the name tag on her shirt in bright teal. “Moira.” 

“Nice. Uh. What do I do?” Steve takes it in stride, wandering around the room without any deemed purpose. He swallows hard once, twice, and follows Robin as she opens up shop. She makes him sweep the floor three times and he doesn’t complain once. 

Eventually, she has to turn the closed sign around. “Use that Harrington charm to get more tips.” She tells him when he just blinks at her some more. “I’ll handle scooping for now.” 

Robin is a people watcher. She learns that a few things on her Steve Harrington list need an upgrade. 

The Steve Harrington from Scoops Ahoy was nothing like Steve Harrington from Hawkins High. For one thing, that Harrington charm? Didn’t exist anymore. 

This is how the You Rule, You Suck board is born. 

“Why’s there a scar in your head?” She asks him, about a month into working together. 

“Uh- got in a fight.” Is all she gets. She stares at his shaking hands, and doesn’t mention it again. 

She doesn’t have to, it seems, because the middle schoolers that follow Scoops Steve around like a flock of confused ducklings are very quick to sing his praises. 

“You know Billy Hargrove?” Dustin asks one day. He’s hiding in the break room with her. A dude had been hitting on her for weeks so whenever she sees him, Steve takes his order and Robin flees. She sits on the table and stares intensely on the bundle of bananas right next to her. They’ve become Steve’s favorite food. 

“Who doesn’t?” She says in answer. Robin was, after all, still in school. 

She hasn’t known Dustin long, and she doesn’t really understand how or why Steve likes him so much, but she does know that Dustin can talk for hours. 

“I heard you asking Steve about that scar on his head. Billy, he had a thing against Lucas dating his sister,” Dustin starts, and Robin sighs before hanging herself half off the table despite her clear interest. She couldn’t let Dustin find out he had gotten her attention. 

“Because Lucas is black, so Max and I and Lucas were hiding at his house- for unrelated reasons, and Steve had to fight Billy or Billy was gonna kill Lucas.” 

Robin sits up so quickly she almost throws up. 

“It wasn’t good. Billy slammed his head in the ground a lot and hit him with a plate. We thought Steve was dead but then Max drugged Billy so we got out all right.” Robin isn't even able to process that information before Dustin is walking out the backdoor that leads to the theater. “I don’t even think Steve went to the hospital after.” 

It’s that last line that makes Robin look just a little bit harder, later in that day, when Steve’s hand is trembling too much for him to write on the chalkboard. 

And that faint fascination that Robin had previously had on King Steve quickly hopped like a flea on to Scoops Steve. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There are many things that Robin knew about Scoops Ahoy Steve. 

She knew he had a favorite scooper- one that was just a little larger than the rest, with a different type of handle. Easier to hold, he said. 

She knew he couldn’t read what was on the menu, and that when she made him write their Scoop Of The Day on the chalkboard, the words didn’t always make sense (sometimes there wouldn't even be letters, just scribbles). 

She knew he couldn’t charm a girl to save his life, and sometimes when he spoke, the words didn’t make sense. She knew that sometimes his hands couldn't grab things (usually only for a minute at a time) and he liked to stare into space until she had to wack him upside the head.  

She also knew that Scoops Steve was very likely her best friend. Robin of a few months ago would have rioted at the very thought. But he was funny, and really nice, if a little confusing sometimes. He loved his little gremlin children and let her talk about her favorite interests that no one else was interested in (like zoonotic diseases, the differences in grammar structures in certain languages, and the central nervous system) 

Like Dustin said; A little dumb, slow on the uptake, but kind. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Robin knows a lot about Steve Harrington. Things that she knows no one else knows. 

She knows that he purposefully harassed the Russian guards so they would beat him instead of her. She knows he spent his senior year fighting monsters, probably also did it before that. She knows that for all that confidence Steve exudes, he is achingly lonely. She knows that despite Steve not knowing anything about the queer community, his first instinct isn’t to belittle her, but to crack jokes to make her laugh. Even high off his ass, his immediate response was to try and make her feel better. The popular, rich, straight white guy treated her better in that moment than anyone else she had ever met. 

Most of all, she knows what it feels like to lay bleeding in an underground Russian bunker and believe, if only for a second, that Steve is dead. 

1986, Family Video, before Vecna. 

Robin grabbed a Terry’s Bitz bar from the candy section up front and tore into it. She hadn’t been able to eat at school. Every once in a while she would somehow get reminded of the Russian elevators and all that untapped trauma would leak out of her. Steve was, at this point, her emotional support human, and she really wished he hadn’t graduated, just like that guy Eddie Munson in her band class. She doubted she would ever get to talk to that one, though. 

She could hear Steve mumbling where the fuck am I? At the register before turning around and ducking under the register to grab at a fallen tape. 

“That one goes in the aisle with the pink stickers.” Robin reminds him. She had put small colorful stickers on each row of shelves because Steve had a hard time distinguishing what she wanted if she just said aisle three. 

Steve stared into space for a moment before nodding and walking that way with the tape, his left hand making a fist, relaxing, making a fist again. 

As always, Robin follows Steve around even when she isn't scheduled to work that day. It just means she gets to hang out with her best friend and laugh at him when he has to organize shelves by himself, taunting him about her Freedom. She does her biology homework behind the counter, staring at a map of the musculoskeletal system. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There are a lot of differences between Scoops Ahoy Steve and Family Video Steve. 

Scoops Ahoy Steve couldn’t write legible sometimes, maybe 2 times a week. Family Video Steve couldn't write anything legible sometimes too, but five times a week instead of 2. Robin knows because she’s counted. 

Scoops Ahoy Steve didn’t get migraines (only headaches). Family Video Steve did. Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't throw up three times a week the way Family Video Steve did. Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't see the need to join Robin’s Yoga class offers the way Family Video Steve very easily caved into it. 

Don’t get her wrong- there are good differences, too. Family Video Steve will casually joke about her stealing his dates in a way Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't. Family Video Steve shared secrets with her, was more patient, acted less like a mom and more like an annoyed brother. Family Video Steve could admit he had a massive crush on the guy that ran the Hellfire club, who he's never talked to since he only sees him when he picks Dustin up (and of course, pretends to hate him). Family Video Steve, somehow, was even more of a best friend than Scoops Ahoy Steve. 

And Robin was a people watcher. That faint fascination she had taken to King Steve was now focused full-fledged on Family Video Steve. Her best friend. Her favorite person in the world, who sometimes forgot where he was, sometimes had bouts of confusing emotions he didn’t know how to deal with, moments where he struggled getting words past his lips, and trembling hands and legs that sometimes made him drop the tapes he organized at Family Video. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

I tried to get Steve to help me with my math homework, she had heard Dustin say. but I don’t know what this says.

You could have asked me, doofus. Steve can’t write for shit. Was Erica's reply. 

Robin knows that they don’t know that Steve heard them. This is also how she knows that it must be a bad day. Steve can write, she’s seen him do it, it’s just hard on other days. And his emotions can make things worse. She knows it’s going to be a bad day not because of Steve’s writing, but because she knows he heard Dustin and Erica say it. 

Robin was a people watcher. She knows that Steve’s picked up on whatever it is that changed him. Maybe he hadn’t, before the Russians, but she did. She knew him before the illegal drugs and head trauma that changed Scoops Steve to Family Video Steve. When she looked back, and remembered King Steve, even more differences were apparent. 

Despite the party’s claim that they were all baby geniuses, none of them have picked up on it. It didn’t make sense. But then Robin tried to think harder, use her deduction skills. 

Steve had protected these kids for years. They called him their mother. Children often can’t find fault with their parents. Sure, the party was old enough to start seeing it, but trauma can affect young minds in really confusing ways. It was very possible that the upside down had hurt their little group of freshmen (and Erica) in ways they couldn’t see. OCase in point- their protector, Steve, was different now. It’s possible they were, deep down, afraid of what it would mean if there was more change added to their traumatically changing lives. Steve was a pillar to them. More of a hero of stories than man.

So she tries to give them a pass. She really does. But she sees the look on Steve’s face when Dustin says it. Steve would never admit it, but Dustin and Erica were his favorites. Robin knew that what they thought mattered more than anything. Anyone else making jabs at Steve’s intelligence washed off him like he was covered in healthy duck feathers. And Steve wasn’t an idiot the way they thought he was. Your ability to hand-write or speak didnt dicacte your intelligence. They were just teenagers who hadn’t been taught that yet. 

Dustin and Erica weren’t inherently malicious. She knew they weren’t. She would just have to find a way to show the party that Steve wasn’t an idiot.

Of course, only three days later, a cheerleader dies in a drug dealer's basement, and her whole world is torn apart. 

1986, Borders Book Store, after Vecna. 

Robin couldn’t take it anymore. On her day off, she rushes to the library, which had very narrowly escaped the Vecna-induced earthquake. It had taken 2 weeks to kill him properly, but they had done it. That didn’t mean the town was allowed to quickly forget, though. 

Luckily for Robin and Steve, so many people moved away that there were multiple job casings still open. This was good because Steve got fired 2 times and whenever Steve got fired, Robin left too. Despite his very clear pros (like being a chick magnet) other places of employment didn’t fit him. 

Anyways. Robin checks herself into the cramped biological sciences section. She takes out a list of symptoms written on ratted yellow lined paper from her back pocket, and she starts to read. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“What?" Steve replies, later, when she comes to him with an improvised list and a stolen library textbook. 

“Please, just listen.” She begged. They were on the floor, behind the counter of their current workplace. Sometimes if the streetlights were flashing, they’d get too scared to go home and just spend the night here. “It explains everything.”

“I can't- no, Robin.” He crossed his arms, then held himself in a tiny ball. His shoulders hunched in on themselves. “I know what a seizure looks like.” He whispered. 

“You know what one type of seizure looks like.” Is Robin’s rebuttal. “There are so many different kinds.” 

Steve swallowed hard once, twice, his left hand clenched and unclenched a few times. He nods, and lets her open the book. 

And öh, but of course, Sources 

Steve’s favorite food being bananas comes from this site, sometimes bananas help with epileptic seizures https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5855373/

Some of Steve’s symptoms come from here https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/seizure/symptoms-causes/syc-20365711

Some tips for what to do when someone has a seizure https://www.nationwidechildrens.org/conditions/seizure-care

One of Robin’s special interests is the central nervous system,  which houses the brain, which is typically where seizures come from/originate. https://kidshealth.org/en/teens/brain-nervous-system.html

80’s Candy references, I cant promise you these were available in Indiana so just ignore that if they weren’t https://www.eightieskids.com/greatest-chocolate-bars-1980s/5

Steve’s spasms in his hands during seizures are caused by the connection of the brain to the musculoskeletal system, https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/14526-musculoskeletal-pain 

Steve self-rehabilitates himself with Yoga, it's a recommended exercise use for seizure patients https://lonestarneurology.net/blog/physical-activity-in-epilepsy/

I don’t know how libraries work since I’ve never been to one so if there’s inaccuracies, ignore it 

And of course, If my interpretation of a focal seizure is inaccurate, I do apologize. this one was a bit more general in the 'brain damage' section, though.

[greenerteacups]

what do you think is the most underrated moment in lionheart?

I deeply and gratefully appreciate how people react to chapters/plot beats of all sorts, so I don't have any moments that I think of as "underrated" per se.

That being said. In Book 3, Draco has a quip to Ron that goes: "where did you find this Methuselah of rats?" and I don't think there's anyone alive who finds that as funny as I do. I can sincerely make myself laugh out loud just by thinking about that line. It's still my favorite joke in the fic.

[robobee]

nobody tells u how hard it is to draw squares and circles and lines dawg I spent 4 full business days just drawing the boxes where everything else in this drawing will go

[maretriarch]

barely an artist im just a pervert who likes looking at the planes of womens faces and musculature lines. well at least im drawing and not murdering people in my basement bcs thats the other outlet for the fascination

[themidnightcircusshow]

This is the context for the "Henry V was very straight" thing. The author is one of the intense Ricardians (except for Francis Lovell?). Anyway, I can see the fun in such a post but it kinda takes all the weird takes modern commentators have and puts them on the historical figure? Also, I feel like if you've got at least five shocking exposes of your horribleness masquerading as biographies, you aren't really "inordinately praised". I'm not also not sure how Henry VII ended up on that list!

It definitely makes more sense in context, but I think it's really interesting when and why Henry V gets portrayed as "very straight". Because, while there are certainly portrayals of him that have him simply be straight because that is seen as the default (especially if you want to up the romance of him and Catherine), I think every time I've seen him be treated as "very straight" have been the same portrayals that are trying to deconstruct his "hypermasculinity"--something he doesn't actually seemed to have had. There seems to be this trend with Henry V that is not people interpreting what is actually there but rather imposing their own ideas of masculinity onto him, usually to then critique it. I see it a lot with criticisms of the Shakespeare play-- Henry is over-glorified (uhhhh) and very masculine (maybe in Henry V, but as Hal?) and is very, very straight (even though he literally uses his sexuality as a ploy). It's starting with a conclusion and moving backwards-- the military is a heightened performance of masculinity> masculinity is overly heterosexual> Henry V must be overly heterosexual.

But also My Own Private Idaho exists.

[gigivas]

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[feleshero]

Listening to a lot (a fucking lot) of 90s hip hop to try and make sure Felicia's dialogue is era-appropriate.

I haven't used the word " Illin' " yet, and I'm kicking myself for it.

[moveoverbeaches]

Photography

Elements of Design

Line

Definition: The path of a moving point is a mark made by a tool or instrument as it is drawn across a surface.

Types: Vertical, Horizontal, Curved, ZigZag, Diagonal

Notable Example: "The Eiffel Tower" by Henri Cartier-Bresson - showcasing elegant vertical lines.

Shape

Definition: The area stands out from the shape next to or around it because of a defined boundary or because of value, color, or texture.

Notable Example: "Migrant Mother" by Dorothea Lange - illustrating the emotional impact of the human shape within its surroundings.

Color

Definition: A visual sensation caused by light.

Notable Example: "Afghan Girl" by Steve McCurry - using vibrant color to convey the subject's striking gaze.

Components: Hue, Value, Intensity

Hue refers to the pure, basic colors of the color wheel. It is what distinguishes one color from another, such as red, blue, or yellow.

Example: In a rainbow, each band of color represents a different hue.

Value represents the lightness or darkness of a color. It is determined by the amount of light reflected by a color. A range of values creates contrast and depth in an image.

Example: In a grayscale image, the variations from black to white represent different values of gray.

Intensity, also known as saturation, refers to the purity or vividness of a color. A highly saturated color is pure and vibrant, while a desaturated color is more muted or grayish.

Example: A highly saturated red will be bright and vibrant, while a desaturated red will appear more subdued.

Space

Definition: The area occupied by form. The main area is positive, everything else is negative.

Notable Example: "Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico" by Ansel Adams - masterfully using negative space to emphasize the moonrise.

Value

Definition: How light or dark a given color or hue can be.

Notable Example: "The Old Guitarist" by Pablo Picasso (photographed by André Villers) - utilizing value to evoke emotion in a monochromatic context.

Form

Definition: Where light and shape collide to create images with depth and a sense of touchability.

Notable Example: "Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2" by Marcel Duchamp (photographed by Man Ray) - playing with form and movement in a surreal way.

Texture

Definition: The visual depiction of variations in the color, shape, and depth of an object's surface.

Notable Example: "Migrant Mother" by Dorothea Lange - highlighting the weathered texture of the subject's face and hands.

Practice:

Take 5 photos demonstrating lines or explore more variations.

Principles

Balance

Definition: Feeling of equality in weight.

Types: Symmetrical, Asymmetrical, Radial

Notable Example: "The Birth of Venus" by Sandro Botticelli - showcasing symmetrical balance in a classic painting.

Proportion

Definition: Deals with the ratio of one part to another. Ratio implies comparison and is expressed in size, number, position, and space.

Notable Example: "Vitruvian Man" by Leonardo da Vinci - exploring the proportions of the human body in a meticulous drawing.

Harmony

Definition: Creates unity by stressing the similarities of separate but related parts.

Notable Example: "Starry Night" by Vincent van Gogh - achieving harmony through the use of color and swirling patterns.

Variety

Definition: A change or contrast within one or more elements to add interest and to avoid monotony.

Notable Example: "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" by Pablo Picasso - introducing variety through diverse and unconventional forms.

Movement

Definition: Where your eyes look in a picture.

Notable Example: "Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette" by Pierre-Auguste Renoir - capturing the lively movement of dancers in a joyful scene.

Unity

Definition: The whole or total effect of a work of art that results from the combination of all its components.

Notable Example: "Guernica" by Pablo Picasso - achieving unity in a powerful anti-war painting.

Rhythm

Definition: A continuance, a flow, or a feeling of movement achieved by the repetition of related visual units; the use of measured accents.

Notable Example: "The Dance" by Henri Matisse - creating a sense of rhythm through repeated, flowing shapes.

Emphasis

Definition: The stressing of an element to make it more interesting or important through one position, color, object, or texture.

Notable Example: "Girl with a Pearl Earring" by Johannes Vermeer - emphasizing the subject's enigmatic gaze and the play of light on the pearl.

Composition

The way the principles of art are used to organize the elements of art. It determines the movement or direction it takes your eyes around the picture. There are many types of compositions; some of them resemble an S, O, U, T, L, S, and more. Understanding composition enhances the overall impact and storytelling in your photographs.

Composition in photography refers to the arrangement and organization of visual elements within a frame to create a compelling and harmonious image. It involves making deliberate choices about how to position and combine various elements like lines, shapes, colors, and textures. A well-composed photograph not only captures the subject but also guides the viewer's eyes in a way that enhances the overall impact and storytelling of the image.

Key Aspects of Composition:

Framing:

Choosing what to include within the frame and what to leave out is crucial. The frame acts as a boundary, focusing attention on the subject.

Rule of Thirds:

Dividing the frame into a 3x3 grid and placing key elements along these lines or at their intersections can create a visually pleasing balance.

Leading Lines:

Lines within an image (like a road, river, or architectural elements) can guide the viewer's eyes toward a focal point or create a sense of movement.

Symmetry and Asymmetry:

Symmetry can create a sense of balance, while asymmetry adds visual interest. Both can be used to guide the viewer's focus.

Contrast:

Contrast in color, tone, or texture helps certain elements stand out, drawing the viewer's eyes to specific areas of the photograph.

Depth and Perspective:

Creating a sense of depth enhances the three-dimensional feel of a photograph. This can be achieved through techniques like using leading lines, overlapping elements, or varying focus.

Balance:

Achieving balance ensures that no single element dominates the composition. Balance can be symmetrical, asymmetrical, or radial, depending on the desired effect.

Guiding the Viewer's Eyes:

Visual Hierarchy:

Establish a hierarchy of importance within the image. This can be achieved through the use of size, color, or contrast to make certain elements more prominent.

Focal Point:

Clearly define a focal point to which the viewer's eyes are naturally drawn. This can be the main subject or a strategically placed element within the composition.

Leading Lines:

Utilize leading lines to guide the viewer's eyes toward the main subject or a specific area of interest within the frame.

Contrast and Color:

Use contrast and color to create emphasis. A pop of color or a high-contrast element can immediately attract attention.

Positioning and Flow:

Consider how the viewer's eyes will move across the image. Arrange elements to create a natural flow that leads the eyes from one point of interest to another.

In summary, composition is about purposefully arranging elements within the frame to create a visually pleasing and impactful image. By understanding the principles of composition, photographers can effectively guide the viewer's eyes, control the narrative, and evoke specific emotions or reactions.

Practice:

Here are three famous photographs where you can circle or draw an arrow to the focal point:

"Migrant Mother" by Dorothea Lange:

Assignment: Circle to highlight the focal point. Consider how the photographer uses the expressions and gaze to create a compelling focal point.

"Afghan Girl" by Steve McCurry:

Assignment: Circle or draw an arrow pointing to the focal point. Notice how the intense gaze creates a powerful focal point and draws the viewer into the subject's emotions.

"The Falling Soldier" by Robert Capa:

Assignment: Draw an arrow pointing to the focal point. Reflect on how this focal point captures a decisive moment in the chaos of war, conveying both action and vulnerability.

For each photograph, consider the composition techniques that contribute to the effectiveness of the focal point. Pay attention to factors like framing, contrast, and the placement of elements within the frame. This exercise can help enhance your understanding of how photographers use focal points to guide and engage the viewer.

[zvaigzdelasas]

South Africa’s genocide case has put the spotlight on a deeper fault line in global geopolitics. Beyond the courtroom drama, experts say divisions over the war in Gaza symbolize a widening gap between Israel and its traditional Western allies, notably the United States and Europe, and a group of nations known as the Global South — countries located primarily in the southern hemisphere, often characterized by lower income levels and developing economies.

Reactions from the Global North to the ICJ case have been mixed. While some nations have maintained a cautious diplomatic stance, others, particularly Israel’s staunchest allies in the West, have criticized South Africa’s move.

The US has stood by Israel through the war by continuing to ship arms to it, opposing a ceasefire, and vetoing many UN Security Council resolutions that aimed to bring a halt to the fighting. The Biden administration has rubbished the claim that Israel is committing genocide as “meritless,” while the UK has refused to back South Africa.[...]

As a nation whose history is rooted in overcoming apartheid, South Africa’s move carries symbolic weight that has resonated with other nations in the developing world, many of whom have faced the burden of oppression and colonialism from Western powers.

Nelson Mandela, the face of the anti-apartheid movement, was a staunch supporter of the Palestine Liberation Organization and its leader Yasser Arafat, saying in 1990: “We align ourselves with the PLO because, akin to our struggle, they advocate for the right of self-determination.”

Hugh Lovatt, a senior policy fellow with the Middle East and North Africa Programme at the European Council on Foreign Relations, said that while South Africa’s case is a continuation of its long-standing pro-Palestinian sympathies, the countries that have rallied behind it show deeper frustrations by the Global South.

There is “a clear geopolitical context in which many countries from the Global South have been increasingly critical over what they see as a lack of Western pressure on Israel to prevent such a large-scale loss of life in Gaza and its double standards when it comes to international law,” Lovatt told CNN.

Much of the non-Western world opposes the war in Gaza; China has joined the 22-member Arab League in calling for a ceasefire, while several Latin American nations have expelled Israeli diplomats in protest, and several Asian and African countries have joined Muslim and Arab nations in backing South Africa’s case against Israel at the ICJ.

For many in the developing world, the ICJ case has become a focal point for questioning the moral authority of the West and what is seen as the hypocrisy of the world’s most powerful nations and their unwillingness to hold Israel to account. [...]

Israel sided with the West against Soviet-backed Arab regimes during the Cold War, and Western countries largely view it “as a fellow member of the liberal democratic club,” he added.[...]

“But the strong support of Western governments is increasingly at odds with the attitudes of Western publics which continue to shift away from Israel,” Lovatt said.

Israel has framed the war in Gaza as a clash of civilizations where it is acting as the guardian of Western values that it says are facing an existential threat.

“This war is a war that is not only between Israel and Hamas,” Israeli President Isaac Herzog told MSNBC in December. “It’s a war that is intended – really, truly – to save Western civilization, to save the values of Western civilization.”

So far, no Western countries have supported South Africa’s case against Israel.

Among Western states, Germany has been one of the most vocal supporters of Israel’s campaign in Gaza. The German government has said it “expressly rejects” allegations that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza and that it plans to intervene as a third party on its behalf at the ICJ.

An opinion poll by German broadcaster ZDF this week however found that 61% of Germans do not consider Israel’s military operation in the Gaza Strip as justified in light of the civilian casualties. Only 25% voiced support for Israel’s offensive.

But it is in Germany’s former colonial territory, Namibia, that it has attracted the fiercest criticism.

The Namibian President Hage Geingob in a statement on Saturday chided Berlin’s decision to reject the ICJ case, accusing it of committing “the first genocide of the 20th century in 1904-1908, in which tens of thousands of innocent Namibians died in the most inhumane and brutal conditions.” The statement added that the German government had not yet fully atoned for the killings.

Bangladesh, where up to three million people were killed during the country’s war of independence from Pakistan in the 1970s, has gone a step further to file a declaration of intervention in the ICJ case to back South Africa’s claims, according to the Dhaka Tribune.

A declaration of intervention allows a state that is not party to the proceedings to present its observations to the court.

“With Germany siding with Israel, and Bangladesh and Namibia backing South Africa at the ICJ, the geopolitical divide between the Global South and the West appears to be deepening,” Lovatt said.

Traditionally, the West has wielded significant influence in international affairs, but South Africa’s move signals a growing assertiveness among Global South nations that threatens the status quo, says Adekoya.

“One clear pattern emerging is that the old Western-dominated order is increasingly being challenged, a situation likely to only further intensify as the West loses its once unassailably dominant economic position,” Adekoya said.

19 Jan 24

[iso3200net]

Organic and mechanic

Last year, there were some occasions when I've spend way too much time in the office, but at least, I took the opportunity to take a walk through the city, emptied by the summer weather. Here, I've found a contrast, nice-looking tree next to the straight imperative of some industrial-grade exhaust pipe, or climate system.

Taken with my ancient Asahi Pentax Spotmatic SP, equally ancient Focal MC 28mm F2.8 wide-angle lens, on a custom, short roll of Agfa APX 400 film. Developed in Adox Adonal, 1+50 dilution, at 21°C. Scanned with my standard, Plustek OpticFilm 8100 film scanner, using VueScan 9.5.

I haven't been using this camera for quite some time, it was sitting on a shelf for almost a decade, and yet, it works like a charm, without a hiccup. The light meter is way off, though, so I used my phone for metering, obviously successfully. The lens didn't sit as long, but regardless, it's one of the less-used lenses I own.

[starswallowingsea]

AHSDNFM SO. CHAPTER 40. how are you feeling after That

i think qifrey needs to talk about his feelings and not. erase his friend's memories. but also WHAT KIND OF INFO DROP IS THAT. HELLO?

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge. 

Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust. 

It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.

“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone. 

“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man. 

“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard. 

Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”

That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.

“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.

“Nothing!”

“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”  

Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance. 

“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”

Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education. 

How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery. 

Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go. 

“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear. 

And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors. 

There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!

“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!

“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”

Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.

“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.

It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?

Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong. 

“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.  

His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”

Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses. 

“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”

“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him. 

“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.

“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair. 

They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him. 

So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped. 

“What?” You looked around confused. 

Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch. 

He was right. 

-

Robin Buckley confirmed it next. 

That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure. 

During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent. 

In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”

“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.

“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”

“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”

“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”

“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”

“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency. 

“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder. 

Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you. 

Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary. 

Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying. 

You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you. 

With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.” 

“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”

Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.

By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off. 

So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.

Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”

“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed. 

Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.

“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity. 

“What plan?” Robin interjected. 

“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed. 

“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face. 

“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty. 

“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”

“Ha!”

“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege. 

“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her. 

Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.

“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire. 

Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.” 

Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”

“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”

“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”

“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”

Steve groaned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”

Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”

“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”

Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”

“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized. 

“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.

Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”

“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”

Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.” 

“I have personality!”

“No, you have hair!” 

In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead. 

“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips. 

“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.

And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.  

“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited. 

“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”

“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.” 

Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment. 

“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further. 

So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!

“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over.  “You’ve been, uh, working out?” 

Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”

“Uh-”

“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.” 

Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”

Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye. 

Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”

His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”

“Five!” 

That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over. 

-

Steve Harrington confirmed it next. 

And maybe was a little asshole about it. 

Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager. 

And who would want that? 

“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you. 

Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take. 

Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough. 

“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using. 

Steve raised a brow. “Really?”

The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”

“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.” 

Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”

“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked. 

“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions. 

But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?” 

And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”

Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere. 

As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-

But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!

He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…

Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”

Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”

“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”

“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.

Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night. 

Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled. 

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”

“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”

“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration. 

“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”

“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair. 

“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.” 

Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day. 

This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love. 

A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless. 

“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth. 

“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-

“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie. 

-

On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.

The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”

The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make. 

“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.

His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars. 

But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body. 

“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds. 

With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face. 

“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips. 

His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”

You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”

Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you. 

God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.

Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face. 

“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?” 

Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.” 

His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips. 

“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”

The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”

Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.

“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world. 

“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”

“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology. 

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”

Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”

A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.

Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.” 

The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest’s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter. 

“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself. 

“What?” Robin prodded. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes. 

Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”

“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued. 

“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it. 

Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”

Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.” 

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined. 

Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events. 

“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?” 

Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes. 

“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face. 

“Okay, so?” 

“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.

Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense. 

“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink. 

She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.” 

Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.” 

“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out. 

“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.” 

Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out. 

“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.” 

Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”

“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer. 

As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.” 

Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips. 

“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.” 

“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.” 

There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington. 

“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment. 

Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.

Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”

Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!” 

You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!

“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted. 

You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter. 

Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?” 

“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”

Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!” 

Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…” 

“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!” 

-

“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to. 

Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle. 

Who the hell were you two fooling?

But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift. 

Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses. 

“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”

“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed. 

At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?” 

Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”

Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed. 

Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness. 

“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece. 

Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies. 

“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend. 

But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call. 

Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered. 

Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?” 

Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder. 

“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock. 

Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend. 

Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird. 

“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross. 

Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.

Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!” 

Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”

“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!” 

Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”

“What?!” 

“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!

She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned. 

“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.

“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!” 

Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need. 

Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand. 

It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird. 

“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work. 

“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!

“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”

Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended. 

Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!” 

The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work. 

In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!” 

Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”

“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call. 

“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”

A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”

Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?! 

But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested. 

Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth. 

Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell. 

Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man. 

-

“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around. 

“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers. 

Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”

“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed. 

Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night. 

“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date. 

“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).  

Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion. 

“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled. 

“Huh?” Dustin asked. 

Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!” 

“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.” 

On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”

Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern. 

You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place. 

Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”

“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!” 

His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”

Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel. 

You make him feel such incredible things. 

“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom. 

Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”

Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing. 

And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her. 

“Robin.”

“Eddie.”

“Come on in.”

“I was going to.” 

As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side. 

“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay. 

The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”

“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.  

But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.” 

“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”

Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back. 

Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face. 

But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin. 

“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared. 

Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in. 

“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged. 

“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!

Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.”  He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled. 

You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”

Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing. 

A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”

“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!” 

Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”

“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”

“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along. 

“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”

Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”

“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed. 

“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.

Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”

“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat. 

Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.

“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.

Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”

Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.” 

Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”

And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”

“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along. 

“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion. 

“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.

“Because I’m in love with Y/N!” 

“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. 

“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.” 

His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.

That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed. 

Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused. 

“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!” 

Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.” 

“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos. 

“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was. 

“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room. 

“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.” 

Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked. 

But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”

You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.” 

You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!” 

Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.

[punkassfrance]

Focal Point - Joel Miller / Fem!Reader

NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Movie night has never been Joel's favorite Jackson community event- tonight, he's actually enjoying himself. You deserve to enjoy yourself too, right? This work contains smut, grinding, assisted masturbation, worship, hand and finger kink, mentions of spanking, feminine/afab reader, public sex, bratting/brat taming, and an established relationship.

Usually, movie night in Jackson is delightful. Fresh popcorn, good movies, a community to share something with. You try not to miss them. Joel’s not a fan of any event that involves people and leaving the house- but movie nights are one of the few things he can tolerate. Nobody looks at him, it’s dark, nobody talks to him if he gets out of the community center fast enough. Most of all, it satisfies you and Ellie’s desire to make sure he socializes. Joel drags his heels about it, but he’ll do anything for his girls.

For once, he actually seems interested in the movie. It’s a shitty action flick, one he somehow hasn’t seen yet. He usually eats these up, leans forward like the terrible special effects are just riveting. Maybe it is to him. For you, this is the blandest movie night since Maria found a box of silent movies.

You squirm beside him, watching his profile. He seems calm at least, distracted from the stressors of social interaction. Once the lights come up, the stressed lines in his forehead will reappear, but for now, he’s almost smiling. His smile is so comforting, especially considering how rare it is. They’re really only reserved for Ellie, you, or the animals hanging around the settlement. Dogs run up to him, sheep let him approach. He’s not completely heartless. You’ve learned that much at the least.

When he smiles, you know all is well. It means he’s at ease, not too concerned to crack a grin at Ellie’s dumb jokes. Something’s always concerning him. The weight of the world sits on his shoulders, and all you want is soothe the pain. Whatever it takes.

His hand rests on your thigh. It’s a comforting motion for him, you think—something to remind him you’re there, remind him you’re warm and breathing. Late at night, in your bedroom, he’ll worship your thighs like there’s nothing else on earth worth his attention—they’re one of his favorite parts of you. Here, it’s just the easiest way to show affection. He’s not too high up your leg, never enough to stir gossip, just enough to let any onlookers know you’re spoken for. It’s usually the most PDA he’ll allow.

Christ, his curls look good tonight. He hasn’t trimmed his hair since you moved to Jackson, too busy helping Ellie adjust and building a life for the three of you. It’s a full-time job, on top of the responsibilities he’s taken up around Jackson. No time for vanity among all that. He’s settling into the role of family man, even if he won’t admit it.

You sit up to whisper in his ear. “This movie sucks.”

He leans down to you. “That’s the best part.”

Relaxing into his chair, he squeezes your thigh and sighs peacefully.

The movie lost your interest a good forty minutes ago—unfortunately, you still have half an hour to go. It might not be exactly rude to go home now, you’re both in the back of the room, but you don’t want to make Joel leave when he’s finally enjoying a community event. This is a rare occasion for him—one you’re not willing to sacrifice, no matter how bored you are. It’s either this or take Joel on walks around the neighborhood to socialize like a dog, and while you might be able to get him into the collar, it’ll be harder to get him outside.

He takes his hand off your thigh to roll his sleeves up, and your mind wanders.

He’s so impressive—you watch him work all the time, admiring the body that cares for you and your community. Even his forearms draw your eye, ropy and strong. When he clenches his fists at his sides, you fight back the urge to trace the tendons and veins in his arm. It’s just one part of him, of course. Everything about him is worthy of worship, every inch of tanned skin, every bit of muscle and softness you spend your nights rediscovering.

You wrap your hand over his when he replaces it on your thigh, pulling it higher up. He doesn’t seem to notice, just settles back into his chair and rubs his thumb over the denim. The motion isn’t helping the sudden burst of energy, the heat brewing in your lower stomach. It’s more than a cerebral desire, more than knowledge that you’re the luckiest woman in Jackson. Once you get to admiring him, you’re starkly reminded that you are a human animal. A human animal that is deeply, deeply attracted to your man.

As your eyes linger on his rough, calloused hand, you feel the fever mounting.

You pull his hand again. He glances over at you, raising an eyebrow before flicking his eyes back to the screen. The final heist of the movie is beginning on screen, something Joel wouldn’t dare to miss—but his fingers twitch on your thigh. He’s onto you.

Higher and higher, his fingertips drag and catch on the texture of your jeans until his hand is so close to where you need it. It’s so warm on your upper thigh, right where it creases into your hip. Another inch or two…

You hear him exhale in the seat beside you, hand squeezing your thigh as he leans in. “Can I help you?” He glowers out of the corner of his eye, crossing his legs.

“Only if you want to.”

You’re the only two at the back of the room—nobody’s looking at you, all focused on the last tense act of the movie. There’s nothing stopping you from messing around. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“You’re on your own.”

You huff and look up at him. He seems to be pointedly ignoring you now, eyes fixed on the screen. He picks up his beer with his free hand and tips it back. His hand looks so big around the bottle, tensing as he sets it back down on the table beside him.

Glancing down at his hand again, your fingers trail over his bones and scars. As he releases his grip, you tenderly trace the callouses, then the lines where his palm creases.

You tug his hand upward again, nudging him between your legs. He’s so warm pressed into your damp panties, firm and perfect to rock against. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t move to help you. No, he’s still enjoying the goddamned movie. As though his horny girlfriend isn’t grinding on his hand, practically begging for his attention. Heartless bastard.

Your legs spread slightly, giving yourself a bit more room to work with. As you rub your clit on the heel of his hand, you whimper softly into his ear, anything to tempt him into action. It’s a little tricky through your jeans, but you manage to get pressure on just the right spot.

He huffs beside you and takes another drink, glancing around the community center. The movie is nearing an end, but nobody seems to notice or care about your distraction. Thank god for it, too—his hand is too addicting to stop now. His hands embody so much of him in your mind. They work so hard on the things he loves, hold you so tight, wipe your tears, caress you when you curl up next to him in bed. Even when he chokes you out, your hands come up to hold his as your vision blurs.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he grumbles in your ear, but he makes no move to take his hand away. Your grip isn’t firm, he certainly could if he wanted to. “Better finish up quick, mi amor. Movie’s almost over.”

Struggling to hold back a moan, you turn your face to press into his shoulder. You’re not going to last nearly as long as you thought you would, too busy rutting and grinding against his hand. Probably for the best—it sounds like the villain is dying on screen. It’s about time to wrap this up.

Driven by your own stubborn defiance, you grind his knuckle right into your sensitive clit and squeak into his shoulder. Every second you feel yourself pulse, each shudder slowly working you through the rapture you’ve brought yourself.

He finally gives in, just barely, rubbing at the inseam of your jeans as you come down from the dizzying high. As solid as his will is, he loves guiding you through your orgasms- he could never resist teasing at the edge of overstimulation.

As you push his hand away, the lights come up, applause thundering through the room as the credits roll. If someone were to look at you now, all they’d see is your flushed cheeks, lips parted to catch your breath. If they watch close, they might catch the little damp spot between your legs—but if anyone tries to get a good look, Joel won’t hesitate to knock their lights out. The protective violence shouldn’t turn you on.

Shouldn’t.

He leans in, kissing your cheek and gazing at you with a calm smile before he whispers in your ear.

“When we get home, I’m going to bend you over the arm of the couch and tan your fuckin’ hide. Then I’m gonna stuff my fingers in your greedy cunt and fuck you ’til you cry.” His voice gets huskier as he finishes the thought—you chew on your lip and glance down, stifling a giggle. He’s going to have a rough time hiding the firm bulge of his cock as you walk home together.

“Bring it, old man.”

Hope you enjoyed! Find this work on AO3 or check out my about me, feel free to say hi or leave an ask/request! Thank you to @jennaispunk for taking a look at this for me before posting :3 comments are always appreciated!

[justrustandstardust]

it's established that gojo's blindfold is a hallmark of his character. it's understood that the blindfold keeps things out; however, i also think there's something to be said about how it also keeps things in. despite the fact that there's already a lot of discourse regarding his blindfold, i think there's more to it than meets the eye (or doesn't, in the case of gojo).

this is going to be somewhat of a long post, but i promise that if you stick around, the end will make the journey worth it.

(this analysis is the lovechild of mine and @chiarrara, whose sexy big brain sponsored this whole thing).

as a character, gojo is unknowable without his eyes. it's very much proposed that gojo is his eyes; he's even repeatedly referred to as "the six-eyes brat". he's the strongest, and his eyes embody that status/symbol/role in the narrative. his eyes and his character are so intertwined that they almost become the same thing.

we are repeatedly reminded of his eyes throughout the story; they are perhaps his most distinct and identifiable feature. when we're shown the progression of gojo's life from birth to adolescence, we only see his eyes.

during this scene when toji is remebering him, he repeatedly refers to him as the "six-eyes brat". he is his eyes, and nothing else. that's the only thing that toji knows about him because to the jujutsu world, that's all he is.

however, when he's a teenager, although his eyes are more present than we've ever seen them throughout the series, they're noticeably un-glorified. they're undeniably present but they're unremarkable.

they're less symbols of his power and more what they are, which are just eyes. we see glimpses of his eyes so often that we almost forget that they're special, until he steps into his role as the strongest and reminds us of them.

it's important to note that what sets the depiction of his eyes apart here (versus when he's an adult) is the presence of geto. if you comb through every single scene with geto in hidden inventory, you will find that gojo's eyes are not the focal point of his character. they're backgrounded features; his eyes are either half-hidden or entirely obscured by his shades, and they rarely glow.

his eyes make themselves known when geto is absent, like during gojo's fight with toji. in these moments, he is the strongest, invariably leaving room for nothing else. the only exception to this rule is when he's carrying riko's body, in which his eyes glow when he toes the line between human nature and godlike power. if we understand his eyes to be conduits of his power, then their noticeable downplaying can be understood as gojo leaving behind his title as the strongest and stepping into his humanity.

when geto breaks up with gojo, his eyes are not only uncovered, they're un-emphasized. they're perhaps the dullest we've ever seen them, and their distinct, eye-catching blue is swallowed by the whites surrounding his irises. his strength and power don't matter in this moment, and his eyes reflect that. when he's losing geto, he is not the strongest; he is purely gojo satoru.

the emphasis on his eyes in his youth makes their absence in his adulthood even more stark. we rarely see his eyes now, and it's only in the direst of circumstances.

everyone is familiar with the dictum '"the eyes are the window to the soul", which is true: eyes let people see into us. however, they function both ways; like a two-way mirror, they also let us see the world. eyes let people look in, but they also let their beholder look out.

there's a reason gojo only put on the blindfold after geto left. why didn't he wear it from the start? why did he start wearing it at all? all the credit to @hijinks-n-lowjinks for their masterful analysis that inspired this idea, which is as follows:

"....Gojo wants nothing more than to leave the memory of Geto unscathed....There's still a part of Geto's memory that's untarnished if he keeps it private instead of exposing the depth of Geto's crimes to the students, and I think that's what he's clinging onto."

gojo wears the blindfold for two reasons: one, to keep people out, and two, to keep geto in.

in donning the blindfold, gojo seals geto in his mind and simultaneously seals himself off from the world. he holds geto inside of himself, rendering him (or gojo's construction of him) untouchable by anyone else. in order to achieve this, however, the practice necessitates that gojo keeps everyone else out, because they belong to a world without geto that gojo literally and figuratively refuses to see. the wall functions like eyes: twofold, both keeping in and keeping out.

geto can be understood as gojo's blindfold: he is the reason it exists and why gojo put it on the first place. the blindfold is an intractable element in how he (doesn't) navigate the world without geto, because geto's departure from his life catalyzed his withdrawal from the world, which is symbolized through the blindfold.

when geto was in his life, gojo let the world in because it had geto in it. after geto left, he wasn't there for gojo's eyes to find. the permanent blindfold operates like schrödinger's cat— instead of seeing a world without geto, gojo simply chooses to stop seeing.

it's worth noting that the literal barrier pairs with the figurative barrier gojo puts up, which is in his disposition.

there's a reason that gojo's cocky, lighthearted persona comes out when he's wearing the blindfold. it's a figurative barrier that matches the literal one. like i said before, we only see his eyes in the direst of circumstances, and his goofy, cocksure demeanour is notably absent from these instances. i'm not saying it's fake, but the persona is a front, designed to keep people at a distance. he plays it up, and it feels even more distant because we can't see his eyes.

however, gojo isn't the only person with a barrier.

after the breakup, we never see geto wear casual clothes. we always see him in his cult leader outfit, which is distinct and elaborate. geto knows it's a costume, evidenced by the way he even says it himself when someone asks why he's wearing the cult getup:

we also see a notable shift in his persona, to a crazed and almost manic disposition that contrasts starkly with the gentle, kind nature he had in his youth. geto's literal barrier is found in his cult outfit, whereas his figurative one is in his disposition. although they present differently, gojo and geto's literal and figurative barriers mechanize the same modes of expression that seem to be at odds with one another.

gojo’s disposition is designed to counteract the loneliness that shapes his character (a loneliness that geto abetted in being his companion) and geto’s disposition is designed to push people away, because he decided no one could understand him (a role which was previously fulfilled by gojo).

gojo can read geto in a way that no one else can, and geto is gojo's counterpart in a way that no one else can be— they’re missing something only the other can provide and compensating with two dispositions at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

when geto is dying, gojo drops the literal and figurative mask. he's almost unrecognizable; he's not laughing, he's not smiling, and he's not wearing the blindfold, because he doesn't need it anymore. the only person he wants to see, the only person he's ever wanted to see, is in front of him now.

however, once again, he's not only one whose walls have come down.

geto drops the manic persona (although he retains the ideals) and he gently smiles in a way that's reminiscent of his youth. his cult leader outfit is also falling off, exposing him in more ways than one. he admits that he never had any hate for anyone at jujutsu tech, and in doing so, materializes the version of himself that lived in gojo's mind for a decade. that's why gojo doesn't bother with the blindfold; the geto in his mind and the geto in front of him are congruous and he's looking at the person he's been seeing inside his head all along.

it's been established that we don't know what gojo says to geto. however, it is also absolutely key that we don't see gojo's eyes in this deeply intimate moment. his eyes, which are inextricably linked to his strength and his role. his eyes, which are the medium through which he limits his engagement with the world. his eyes, which he sealed after geto left and only brings out when he's tasked with fulfilling his role.

in this moment, he considers the question geto asked him during the breakup. "are you gojo satoru because you're the strongest? or are you the strongest because you're gojo satoru?"

and in shielding his eyes from us, gojo answers him.

"i'm gojo satoru because of you, suguru."

his eyes, as the windows to the soul and witnesses to the world, are looking at geto suguru not as the strongest but as gojo satoru, and they are meant for geto alone. yes, the eyes are the windows to the soul but they're also two-way mirror— gojo opens his eyes for geto to look into his soul because the material manifestation of his soul is dying in front of him right now. in baring his eyes, he bares his soul.

before geto dies, we see him the same way gojo does. he seems bashful, almost shy, even mirthful; all traits that are antithetical to the crazed front he put up earlier. conversely, gojo is the most solemn we've ever seen him. in this moment, we see them both for who they really are, because they literally and figuratively only reveal themselves to each other.

after they part ways in shinjuku, geto and gojo embody the same barriers through identical mechanisms: fabric and persona. these barriers function to do the same thing, which is to keep people at a distance in order to leave space for the one person noticeably absent from their lives. it's very fitting that their walls come down as they meet for the last time, because the only people who could've torn them down are the same people for whom they put them up in the first place— nobody else but each other.