#this fic is a masterpiece truth to be told

[divkazkdovikde]

oh my god, i’m so proud of him i might actually cry at this part as well

[sansaorgana]

Could I maybe request a bit of a sequel fic to thrown to the wolves where we kind of see the outside galaxy's perspective on the couple and their son. Like a lady from caladan remembering playing with reader and reconciling it with who she is now or a low ranking guard on Giedi Prime and the few times he's caught glimpses of them reflecting on how great it is that his chances of being randomly killed by the baron have dropped significantly since the Baroness has arrived or a handmaid to Irulan whose heard whispers that even the emperor fears them. IDK I think it could be interesting to see them and see how rumor and truth shape their wider image in the galaxy.

Thank you once again though for the masterpiece that is Thrown To The Wolves!

THROWN TO THE WOLVES MASTERLIST

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hi, darling! 💝 Sorry that it took me so long but I was dealing with the end of semester at Uni. 🙄 Thank you for the request because it was interesting to write from other people's perspective. Perhaps the story is not very long but I have one more story about Feyd and our beloved (Na-)Baroness in my inbox to write, so it's not the end... yet! 😁

WORD COUNT — 1,370

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

After her arrival, Princess Irulan was told by her servants that her father expected to see her. She nodded her head and freshened herself before taking a walk down the corridor to meet with her father. To her surprise, The Reverend Mother was not there and it was unusual since she often reminded of The Emperor's shadow.

“Welcome back home, child,” her father greeted her and pointed at the chair next to his. Irulan sat there and looked at him, waiting for his questions. “How was the ceremony on Giedi Prime?”

“Splendid,” Irulan answered genuinely. “They have outdone themselves, I have to admit. And The Baroness gave birth to the new na-baron on the same night. The excitement was unbelievable.”

“On the same night?” The Emperor smirked. “That woman plotted it very carefully.”

“Not everything is a result of plotting and scheming, dear father,” Irulan sighed. “Women cannot predict the exact time of birth.”

She was a bit irritated with her father for assuming such a thing – not because she was under The Baroness’ charm or influence but because it was so… typical for a man of him. They had no idea about childbirth but they loved to pretend they knew everything.

“Do not underestimate them, The Harkonnens,” The Emperor tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at his daughter as if he was able to hear her thoughts. “Their technology and medicine advanced us in ways we don't even know about. They know very well that their experiments would not be approved by the other Great Houses so they keep most of them a secret. And do not underestimate The Baroness either. What do people say about her?”

“That she can temper Feyd-Rautha, the new Baron,” Irulan answered. “They hope for that certainly.”

“Tame him? Have you seen her on Arrakis?” The Emperor sneered at that. “Women tend to be more ruthless leaders than men for they truly do believe that their cruelty is justified for the way the society is treating them,” he reminded his daughter. After all, she would inherit after him as well.

If they were lucky. And deep down he knew they would not be. He was old and weak now but not stupid. He knew what The Harkonnens wanted – his throne. Feyd-Rautha himself perhaps would not be a threat that big but the new Baroness was a dangerous new pawn in that game. She had her ruthless husband under control and he was nothing but a loyal dog – he would bite and attack when she asked. And The Emperor knew that she would ask. She was only waiting for the right moment.

“The Harkonnens have gained a new amount of power and influence. A dangerous one,” he thought out loud. “They're so powerful now that I can't take away their privileges because they'd attack and only prove their forces are stronger than the Imperial ones.”

“It's better to keep them as friends,” Irulan nodded as she played nervously with her fingers.

“Let's hope and pray that the new Baroness wants to make friends,” her father smiled sadly.

He was old already, he couldn't care less. But he was worried about his daughter’s future.

“The word soon will spread about their power. We have to make sure all the rumours about them wanting the Imperial Throne will be silenced,” he added.

The rumour was spreading indeed. But a maid from Caladan who had used to be the new Baroness' personal servant back in the day… She didn't believe the cruel rumours.

As her former Princess was leaving to Giedi Prime, she had promised her to keep visiting her mother's grave. And she was standing above it now as she admired the new stone next to it. The grave of Duke Leto and Lady Jessica was standing right next to his late wife's. Baroness Harkonnen had paid for the transport of their bodies and for the funeral and the stone. She had given all the instructions on what should be written on it. 

Duke Leto Atreides. Lady Jessica – mother of Prince Paul Atreides and the unnamed daughter.

And the maid knew – she had heard the stories – that it was Baroness Harkonnen herself who had murdered Lady Jessica and her child. But the maid also knew that her former Princess could not be as fearsome and cruel as the rumours were saying. She still cared about her father and even made her peace with Lady Jessica in a way, since she allowed her to rest next to her mother. Another rumour said that she had also allowed Prince Paul's Fremen lover to take care of his body and give him a funeral according to their customs.

But the maid was sad as she watched. So many things had changed and she wished they all were still here – Duke Leto, Jady Jessica, young Paul and young (Y/N). 

A cold shiver went down her body at the realisation that only Baroness Harkonnen had survived out of them all. Perhaps the rumours were true after all – she had to be cruel and fearsome if she had been the only survival of her House and family and if she had helped to murder them herself. And the stone she had bought did not mean anything, really. It was just a stone.

Usually, on other planets, becoming the personal guard of the noble family was a privilege. On Giedi Prime it meant a death sentence. 

The young Baron couldn't care less about human life and he was always first to take it. The lives of slaves, servants and guards meant nothing to him and in the past he had been even killing them just out of boredom.

The young guard assigned to keep an eye on the nursery was tense every time the Baron was nearby. But so far so good, he thought, when he realised that the young na-baron Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen was already six months old and he was still alive. To last half a year nearby the Baron was an achievement for sure.

As he was standing in front of the doors leading to the nursery most of his days, he had an opportunity of witnessing the scary Baron Harkonnen performing activities that would certainly spoil his ruthless image. He was visiting the nursery every day alongside his wife – in fact, The Baroness was visiting a few times a day. But at least once a day The Baron was by her side, looking the guard up and down with contempt but doing nothing more than that.

Apparently, it was his wife's influence – so the people said. She believed that her own servants should not fear them too much because it was influencing their loyalty in a bad way. Whatever she believed in – for all the servants, slaves and guards it was a big relief.

But only the guards working around the nursery and two maids named Astra and Cara could see The Baron Harkonnen being… soft. Soft around his son when he was carrying him around and telling him war stories. He was definitely a very proud father even though he was often scared of hurting his child accidentally. And he tended to forget that children – especially so small – couldn't understand him. He often addressed little Maxim as if he was an adult and then he was getting frustrated that his son didn't understand him.

The Baroness found it funny each time. But even though she was a woman and most likely a reason why the chances of getting randomly killed decreased, it would be foolish to think she was not to be feared.

Not only her one command would make The Baron attack but also all it would take to enrage him was to look at The Baroness the wrong way. She wouldn't have to ask then, The Baron was a guard dog. A rabid animal, barely tamed by a madwoman – you never knew when she'd loosen the leash.

And that was the Galaxy's greatest fear now – and it was not the question of if but a question of when the leash would be loosened and the war for the Imperial Throne starts. And people wondered who was truly more dangerous – the rabid dog or the mad owner?

MASTERLIST

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - January Podfic

New this year, I’ll be sharing a list of podfic I listened to throughout the previous month on the last day of the month. I’m a few days late this month, but here’s the fic I loved to listen to this month. 

[Podfic] Nor An Evil Tongue Bewitch by M_Samro 

The thing about kisses is that they always come at the end of the story.

Steve's life has had an awful lot of endings.

I wish I could explain the way I love this fic, how lyrical and lovely it is?? M_Samro does an amazing job with the podfic, highly recommend.

[Podfic] The Sound Silence Makes by seleneaurora

“We need exactly what we don’t have,” Tony observed, annoyed and tired. He started to giggle and couldn’t stop himself. “Power.”

He cast a glance back at the door, sealed shut behind him, and he didn’t foresee the cavalry charging through anytime soon with a generator and a bomb kit. Tony took a deep breath and asked, “How much reserve power does the suit have, J?”

“The suit is currently running on the arc reactor, sir. You have approximately one hour of power remaining before the reactor reaches critical levels.”

Team dynamics are everything, and the way that Tony is just--his usual self-sacrificial idiot self is perfection.

[Podfic] In All the World by kalakirya

In a world where Sentinels, people with five heightened senses, bond mentally and spiritually with Guides, people gifted with empathetic powers, Tony Stark has spent thirty-three years overwhelmed by the emotions of those around him and running from his own. Sentinel Steve Rogers wakes up sixty years out of his own time and struggles to deal with the massive amount of new sensory input while trying to find his footing in a New York very different from the one he knew. When they finally find each other, how will their bond change them?

I've never watched the media Sentinel AUs are based off of, but I adore them, and this one is excellent, and the podfic is just--perfect.

Hide Your Love Away, by Sineala, (podfic) by cookiemom6067 

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

SOULMATE AU. One of my favorites, which is saying something. The narration for @sineala work is amazing.

[podfic] Degrees of Separation by plingo_kat, reena_jenkins

Oh god, what if Jarvis infected Dummy with, with emotions. Jesus Christ.

I honestly expected this to be fluffier than it was. And somehow I haven't actually read the fic? Which startled me. Oops.

[Podfic] Scars and Stitches by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart)

When Tony shows up to SHIELD to be fitted with the Iron Man armor, Steve, the original Iron Man, is there to help him out.

I have a huge soft spot for Bullet Points and this fic is just--so good. Iron Man Steve is so dear to me.

[Podfic] Straight on till Morning by Sineala by M_Samro

This is a podfic for the amazing masterpiece that is Sineala's "Straight on till Morning" which is summarized thusly:

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive.

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

I'm gonna be honest. This is one of my favorite fics ever. Not just in the Stevetony fandom, like. Ever. As a fic, it's practically perfect (which is a feat considering my adoration for Star Trek) and the podfic somehow makes it even BETTER. The narration and production M_Samro brings to it is truly amazing, and I always cry through certain parts of the podfic. I chattered about the podfic on Twitter while I listened and the outpouring of love for this fic and podfic made me ridiculously happy.

[helloaugustmoon]

Very random but have you read the book "His personal assistant"? That's one of the best books on wattpad and it always makes me cry towards the end 😭

Just wanted to ask since I feel like more people have to know about that masterpiece.

no I have not but you can bet your ass it’s going in my library rn thank you SO much for the recommendation angel !!! ♡

truth be told I haven’t been on wattpad in YONKS and it’s so rare I ever read anything that’s more than a couple chapters now bc I get intimidated by the time commitment (but I’ll see a 10k long one-chapter fic and be all “hmm yes seems doable 🤭” so basically I’m chatting rubbish) BUT this will be in my library and the next time I get the burst of energy to read an actual book, this will be what I’m reading

altho recommending me something that seems like it’s going to result in making me cry might be cyberbullying but I’ll read it and you’ll hear from my solicitor if I suffer emotional damage <333

[lupeloto]

💭 wednesday tag game 💭

i was tagged by @creepkinginc @michellemisfit @energievie @ardent-fox @such-a-barbarian for this super fun tag game!!!

name: laurel🌿

age: 21🦔

location (globally): us

location (physically): air mattress

favourite Food to Eat: a sub sandwhich always

favourite food to cook: is none of them an option?

will you be attending @too-schoolforcool’s ☀️ Kitchen Shenanigans🍴with Cherry on the 6th july? i will try to! all of these little events are soooo cute

what’s your zodiac: gemini ♊️

will you be attending @heymacy’s ☀️ Astrology 101: More Than Just Your Sun Sign ☀️ lecture on the 13th july? hopefully!!

(check @gallavich-fic-club’s lesson plan for details)

now let predictive text complete each sentence for you after the 💭

my age is 💭 is not my height (very insightful)

my favourite animal is 💭 the dog (very true!)

i love to cook 💭 with you guys (im sure it’s a blast!)

i love to eat 💭 and eat with my family

i have a lot of ideas about 💭 the game but i’m just gonna go for the original game (good plan good plan)

i have no clue 💭 how you got this picture of me (oh… you have some explaining to do)

my dream career is 💭 now a reality check (alright that hits a little too close to home pack it up)

my favourite character on shameless 💭 is a guy who thinks he is the only person in the world (who do we think it is? guess in the comments i have a few ideas)

debbie gallagher is 💭 the only person i can trust (im not so sure about that one…)

carl gallagher is 💭 the only person i can think of that could have done it (i feel like this applies to several shameless scenarios)

mandy milkovich is 💭 the most beautiful person on the planet (no les were told that’s my girl right there)

mickey milkovich is 💭 my favorite person in the whole world but he has no clue how much he makes me feel (okay………………might have chosen from all three suggestions to create this masterpiece bc it is true. he is my baby forever and ever my favorite man in the world)

ian gallagher is 💭 an amazing artist who is so much more talented than you (truth)

to me ian and mickey are 💭 both the best people on earth (well yes precisely! i love this game!)

gallavich means 💭 i can get a new one in the morning. [when the sex experiment goes wrong, i guess.]

i wish anyone who reads this to 💭 understand that this isn’t about me (preach humble queen)

i’ll tag @jademickian @softmick @depressedstressedlemonzest @lingy910y @gallawitchxx @heymrspatel @darlingian @krysmiss if you’d like to join!!!!

[madaboutmunson]

Sweet Home Chicago Series - Stupid Cupid (Part 1)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth Week 1 prompts used Parents, Observant, Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, Lost, Role Model, Crush, Warm Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) Romance/Fluff Word Count : 13K Ao3 Link

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

1959 Little Italy, Chicago

Eddie arrives at night, and unlike Hawkins, this place is still bustling. He can only imagine what it might be like tomorrow. Alive, vibrant and diverse. Everything back home wasn't. Wayne has driven him all the way here. Even though he said several times he had the money and was fine taking the bus alone, his uncle didn't want to hear it. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity to catch up with Eddie’s Mom.

Eddie knew this was a half-truth. Wayne was a worrier, even though it cost him time and money for gas and food at rest stops. It at least meant that he knew Eddie was safe. It did give him a chance to catch up with his Mom, but this wouldn’t be a chit-chat. Wayne didn’t mean to be judgemental, but Eddie knew he wanted to check the place out, make sure his Mom was okay, and that Eddie would be OK here.

Eddie was eighteen now, a man. He’d often told Wayne he didn’t need him protecting him and his mother henning around him. But he knew that was a lie, too. Eddie was too different to not run into trouble, and they both knew that, even if Eddie had set his mind to starting over and being someone brand new in a place where he had a clean slate. He didn't have to be the loud, weird, bad kid here. He could be the quiet, unassuming budding author, and people would like him for that, not be put off by his previous self. 

Eddie was evolving. He could use this place to settle in and to mault. Rid himself of his disfunctions become healthy and normal. That's how you get ahead in life. An easy life.

He was so nervous. It had been some time since he’d seen his mom in person, though they generally stayed in touch with occasional phone calls, letters or parcels. In the last ten years since she left, maybe five Christmases and three birthdays. But she always called him.

Since he’d hit his teens, Wayne had little to discuss with his mom that Eddie couldn't communicate himself, other than the bad stuff that Eddie always conveniently left out.

Eddie had been a good kid. He just had a less-than-ideal start in life. His father was in and out of life more often than the changes of school term. There was no nice way of saying it. His dad was a criminal. Specifically a conman. His specialities lay in being charming, blending in and rustling up disguises out of basically nothing. Maybe if he had chosen the right path when he hit that fork in the road of life, he could have been a phenomenal actor. He easily imitated voices, sounds, and mannerisms, effortlessly embodying characters like donning or doffing his hat. Which made the rare bedtime stories he told masterpiece performances.

From what Eddie can recall of his parents' relationship, it was very loving, but they seemed to be stuck in the cycle of teenage love and angst over and over. One day, they would be dancing around the kitchen, gazing at one another across the table, hardly touching their food at all, or curled up on the sofa together like two love-sick kids. But the next could be a complete warzone, arguments over the same things, either his dad’s risky next job or his mom’s failure to keep a steady one. Maybe none of that would have been a problem for the two of them, but when the third part of that equation was a young, hyperactive, attention-starved, anxiety-riddled son, it just fueled the fire.

His Mom and Dad never called him a mistake, and they did give him the love they could spare, but they were very young, and Eddie came along before they’d even caught a glimpse of the vague edge of their dreams. Neither of them had great relationships with their parents. His Dad’s were distant. Disowned him for his sinful way of life, being the god-fearing people they were. His Mom doesn't even remember her mom, she only remembers her Dad, who was essentially her best friend her whole life until the Munsons muscled into the scene, and he wanted better for her. When they ran away to get married against everyone’s advice, it broke her Dad’s heart, and they never spoke in person again. Eddie guesses it made sense they would cling to one another when they must have felt like flotsam just bobbing about in the world, lost and alone.

Eddie’s dad, criminally charming as he was, never strayed from his mom. Never looked at another woman twice. His dad said that was because he had never met a girl like his mom before in his life. 

When the Munson’s arrived in Indiana, it was tough. Tougher for outsiders. That was just the way Hawkins always was. Tough as old boots. But thankfully, the Munsons lucked out because the nearest house to theirs was owned by a kind, neighbourly mechanic Widower with an only daughter.

Eddie loved hearing how his Dad’s voice would change when he remembered his mom from their youth. He, his mom and Wayne became fast friends, roaming around Hawkins together. A happy outsider trio, going on adventures, star and cloud gazing together, cannonballing into the lake. He’d recall his mom, Esmerelda, or Em as he liked to call her, was not only fun, but she could shoot better than any he knew. She would have made a great sniper. Plus, she could strip and reassemble a car engine in record time. Only sported a dress for church on Sundays. The rest of her time, she wore pants, a shirt and braces like the rest. Though usually covered with a streak of engine oil, dirt or flour. The cherry on top was just how beautiful she was. Big, piercing green eyes and long, luscious dark waves of hair that bounced around her face as she outran them both through the fields playing tag.

The three of them were thick as thieves, but as they moved into their teens, Al started to peel off into the more real dangerous side of things, which got him kicked out, and that left his Mom and Wayne, still reading stories, and letting their imaginations run riot in the skies above them at the lakeside, or inventing future dream lives for themselves on the tire swing at the Munson’s.

But the day finally came when Al got brought home by the sheriff himself. They banned him from town, so he was plunged back into Wayne and his Mom’s life with a thump. His parents wanted nothing to do with him, so his Mom’s father let him stay in a barn on his land. Though the three spent most of their days together as kids, Al seeing Esmerelda in her everyday home life enabled him to see more sides of her. Not just showing off, being goofy or tough, but kind, careful, generous, and protective. That's when he realised it wasn’t just the friendship he felt for her and decided he should do something about it. So one night, he sent Wayne back to the house for some sodas, which Wayne argued with him over, didn’t want to do at all, nearly ruined the moment, and as soon as he was out of sight. Al made his move. Shuffled closer on a hay bale and kissed her on the cheek, and as he liked to say, the rest is history.

Then he’d turn to Eddie and say, “One day, Eddie, you’re gonna meet a girl, and Cupid is gonna line you up in his sights and pow, it’ll be over for you.” Eddie would be so scared, his dad would chuckle and pull him into his lap, “I’m sorry, son, it’s not that scary, but you’ve got the genes of your mom and me. You’re a hopeless romantic on both sides, but that just means you’ll find your one easily,” he’d tap him on the chest, “Your heart is so full of love it’s gonna shine so bright for them, they’ll see it from miles away.”

Eddie didn’t realise at the time how dysfunctional his family was. When they weren’t arguing, they had the most fun together, but some of the things he thought were games weren’t that at all. They would play the weeks-long hide-and-seek game with his dad, but Eddie mustn’t tell anyone else about it. Otherwise, the game would be over. The scavenger hunts that either they would lay out for his Dad or he and his mom would follow, the prizes always being wads of cash. Or the big box of dress up he and his mom sometimes had to rifle through and take outfits to his dad so he could play too. That was the last game he remembered them playing together.

His dad had told Eddie and his mom that he’d had a vision about work, how something might go wrong. So they were to meet him at a gas station to play pretend. Though Eddie was excited, he couldn’t figure out why his mom was so upset.

His mom had made new outfits, especially for the occasion: a priest, a nun and a choirboy. They parked around the back of the building, already in their costumes, and waited for hours. Until there was a screech of tires, the sounds of yelling and running. His mom had grabbed the brown paper bag and Eddie and ran from the car to the outdoor toilet, and they hid behind the wall. In seconds, his dad appeared with a massive smile on his face, “Look at you, my angels.” he laughed, grabbed the bag, and kissed his mom before disappearing into the toilet.

More cars were pulling up, but there was more yelling and slamming. He even heard someone shouting bad things about his dad until his mom covered his ears with her hands and pulled silly faces at him until he smiled.

Then came the sirens and gunshots. Eddie remembers being so scared until his dad reappeared, “Hey buddy, it’s ok. We’re gonna pretend we’re going to church now. So just put your hands together like when you say your prayers, close your eyes, and we’ll be on our way before you know it.” He beamed a huge toothy grin at him. Eddie could see dark grease in his hair. It almost made it look jet-black. Eddie did as he was told, the other noises continued, but he kept walking until someone lifted him into his seat.

That was the last time he saw his dad. Heard from him a few times and got a couple of things through the post, birthday and Christmas gifts, usually a few months late, but as Wayne would remind him, it’s the thought that counted.

There is something strange in the space between them in the car as they pull up outside the address she’d given them. All the buildings crowded around one another, and looming over them felt like a stark contrast to the feeling within the vehicle.

Wayne kills the engine, “Ed, if you ain’t sure bout this, it’s no trouble at all to drive ya home. I’m going back anyway.” He speaks the words up at the large building.

Eddie does actually think about it, the fear of the unknown creeping up his spine. Then he looks at Wayne. He looks tired, “Yeah,” he replies, trying to hide the crack in his voice, “I’m sure. A fresh start somewhere new, I can be someone else.” He looks up into the night sky as if asking the stars to make it so.

He feels his uncle’s hand on his shoulder, “Eddie,” Wayne’s voice is quiet and full of a soft sadness, “You ain’t gotta be no one else. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. You were just a kid whose life was flipped around. You did the best ya could, son.” Wayne's soulful eyes shine in the darkness.

“I coulda been less trouble,” Eddie says with a sweet half-smile to try and lessen the weight of this conversation, “I coulda been good, made things easier for myself. Coulda not had the sheriff and neighbours knocking at your door.”

“Our door,” Wayne adds and shakes his head, with a huff of acceptance, “Kid, I just want ya to know, I’d take a hundred knocks on our door at any hour, as long as you were there with them. Safe. At home,” Wayne adds, he turns away from Eddie and looks out the window, “The only good thing I ever heard about this city, Ed, was that your mama done well for herself. Everything else was bad news.”

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says cautiously, but the word uncle makes Wayne’s head snap towards him. He’d been calling him Wayne mostly, but when he was little, sick or upset, he used uncle as a small plea for his comfort and support. “I came here to start over. I’m not interested in getting into trouble, joining greaser gangs, or getting into drink or drugs. I just want a chance to see more. Experience more without a brand on my forehead telling everyone I'm different. In Hawkins, I stick out, here there are so many differences no one is gonna notice lil’ ol’ me,” he smiles fondly at his uncle, “I'm gonna write a book and illustrate it, and when I make my fortune. I'm gonna come get you outta Hawkins, and me, you, mama, and pa are gonna live somewhere so grand.” His dreams widen his smile at Wayne, who offers a slight shrug of a smile back.

“Well, I ain’t never been one to stand in the way of anyone's dreams, so I reckon we better get up there before your mama falls fast asleep,” Wayne gets out of the car and gets Eddie’s cases.

Eddie shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into Chicago. 

He inhales deeply again, letting the city saturate his lungs, with all its good and bad. The buildings around here were so vast and gigantic that it made him feel small, but for once, that felt good. He grins up at the lights still flooding the night, some from apartments and restaurants, some from cars driving by, and the faint sound of jazz on the wind whips around the place. 

He walks around and takes the cases from Wayne, “I got this old timer,” which puts a genuine smile on Wayne’s face as they make their way to the large brick building.

He could clearly see three floors from the sidewalk, though, on approach, it looked like there might be an attic right at the top and a basement down below. On one side of the building was a set of hard stone steps that bypassed the apartment at street level and went up to the main middle floor he could see.

Eddie halts at the two big main doors like this threshold will tear him asunder, let him leave the old bad boy Eddie behind, and only leave behind the good. He sets down one case, but his hand shakes as he reaches for the handle. Soon, he feels Wayne’s hand on his shoulder again. He turns to look at him, “You got nothing to lose. Home isn’t going anywhere. You can always come back,” Wayne smiles warmly at him, and Eddie takes hold of the handle and opens the door. As he steps into the cold, tiled hallway, he feels the warmth of Wayne’s hand leave him. As he turns, he finds his uncle neatening himself up, Straightening his tie, smoothing down his jacket, and rearranging the flowers in his hand, which were starting to look a little sorry for themselves.

Eddie looks at the numbers on the doors, and it seems they have another floor to get to his mom’s place. Eddie notices on the group of mailboxes as they pass that she hasn’t opted to change her surname, and something about that makes him feel good. Despite their distance and his dad's behaviour, it wasn’t so bad she needed to cut them off entirely.

As they reach the door of her apartment, Eddie’s anxiety takes full hold, he feels his breathing shudder, and the muscles in his back burn with a new tension. He thumbs at the ring on his finger that was a going-away gift from Wayne. He’d found it in a hide on a hunt the day after Eddie told him he wanted to leave and said he thought it was a sign. It was a simple silver signet ring that Eddie had to tape up to fit his slender fingers. He kept it on his index finger so his thumb could easily reach it. The repetitive movement, who gave it to him and the gift sentiment all helped bring him back down to earth a little. He’d been using it the whole way here.

“You know what could be fun? If she sees me first, then I step aside to reveal you? Lord knows I won’t get a word in once she’s got holda ya,” Wayne beams at him, and Eddie nods, in the full knowledge Wayne was gonna take this first step for him.

When Wayne had offered to take care of Eddie, it had been because he’d been left at his grandparents for a spell whilst his mom found her footing in the city. Eddie’s grandparents were the first people he met who branded him bad simply because he was energetic and was born of two delinquents, as they called them. Wayne had told his mom, who moved Eddie to her Dad’s, and everything was fine until he started getting sick. So Wayne worked on vehicles with his Mom’s father, cared for him and Eddie and never complained. Eddie couldn’t be that good, not as good as Christian as Wayne, but he tried. He was kind to people and animals, said his prayers, and helped around the house, but school and that kind of life were too restrictive for his imagination. Wayne plied him with fantasy books and art supplies, and they worked for a while until the differences started showing.

He was supposed to like cowboys, not knights. He was supposed to play soldiers, not sorcerors. 

His Mom came back for his grandpa’s funeral but didn’t stay. She took money and trinkets and left the house, land, and everything else for him and Wayne. That’s how it had been for the last ten years. Just him and Wayne in his Mom’s old house.

The combination of grief and being in opposition with his peers had sparked a rebellion within Eddie. He was supposed to like pop music and country, not blues and rock’n’roll. He was supposed to wear his hair short, but he preferred it longer. He should have had a pick-up. He had a motorcycle. He was a one-man gang for a while, glaring at anyone who gave him a second look, spooking locals with sinister tales until he was othered because he wanted to be. Then, a few others flocked to him, and he had his own mini band of brothers. But they got out of control. It took a few sheriff visits and a near fire to reign Eddie back in and ultimately sparked this decision to move.

Wayne knocks gently on the door, the bouquet of flowers held in front of him more like a shield than a gift. The other hand behind his back reaches for Eddie’s arm. 

“Yeah?” A deep, booming voice rings out from behind the door.

“Uh, apologies, we’re looking for Ms, um, Mrs Munson. Must have the wrong place,” Eddie hears the slight tremble in Wayne’s voice and feels his hand grip his arm tighter.

The metallic sound of latches being hurriedly undone fills the hallway, the increase in speed matching Eddie’s heartbeat, until the door is wrenched open and Eddie sucks in a breath in anticipation, but with Wayne in front of him, Eddie doesn't see much at first.

“Wayne!” An excited voice calls out before she leaps into a bear hug squeeze, and Eddie laughs when he hears the faint crunch of the flowers.

“He came?” He hears his mom say in disbelief as Wayne is shoved to the side, and there she is. Older but more beautiful than he remembers.

She’s a small woman, a smirk in the place of a smile, but it radiates joy all the same. On top of her head, her jet black curls are piled on top of one another in an untamed bun, a scarf is neatly folded into a headband of sorts and tied around her head, at the top in a small bow, from under which a set of shorter curls spill out and frame her emerald eyes, rounded nose and delicate jawline.

Her hands reach forward and grab Eddie’s face, and she plants kisses on his cheeks, too many for him to count, leaving them both giggling as she moves her rough hands away and steps back again to get a good look at him, “Oh sweetheart, look at you! You look so grown up with your little suit on,” Her hand raises to her mouth, and Eddie thinks he can see the start of tears brimming, but she quickly averts her eyes to Wayne and waves them inside, “Come in. Come in. I’ll, um, show you to your room so you can drop your bags in,” As she shuts the door behind them, her arm braces around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him in for a side hug, “I can’t believe you’re finally here sweetie, oh my goodness you are gonna love it. Sorry everywhere is a little empty, I um, I only just moved into this apartment from upstairs. Here we are,” she says excitedly, then stops, gives him another squeeze, and gestures into a plain looking room.

The wooden floor is adorned with a mishmash of rugs, there is a single metal framed bed, a desk which he can see has been stocked with stationary, a full-length mirror attached to a tall wardrobe, and next to a tall chest of drawers, on top of which sits a record player.

“I didn't wanna do too much. This is your room, so you can decorate it as you like, and I can get rid of anything you don't want or like, don't worry about that. Just wanted you to have what I figured might be essentials.” She releases him and opens up the wardrobe, “I got you a set of towels, and um,” she moves over to the chest of drawers, “Some new socks and underwear. I hope I got the size right. I did try to remember the numbers your uncle gave me,” she smiles, and Eddie begins to see how nervous she is.

“Wow, it's so great. Thank you, Mama, I mean, Mom,” Eddie corrects himself, trying to sound a little more grown up. He puts his cases down by his bed and almost removes his hat before looking nervously at Wayne and then his mom.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” She asks, a little worried, looking between Eddie and Wayne.

“Who else is here?” Eddie asks quietly.

His mom looks at him quizzically, “No one, sweetie. It's just us.”

“But the voice at the door,” he says, pointing back to the hallway.

“Ohhhh,” his Mom says in realisation, cups her hands to her mouth and booms out, “You mean this voice?”

Eddie's shoulders relax, and he nods and laughs, shaking his head.

“Is that what you were worried about, honey?” She asks again, but Eddie shakes his head, unable to find the words.

“Emmie,” Wayne starts and looks at Eddie with a reassuring smile, “The boy doesn't much like the barbers.”

Her worry fades, and she smiles mischievously, gesturing at her hair, “Me neither.”

Eddie carefully removes his bakerboy-style hat that hid his hair and takes the clips out so that his dark waves of hair fall around his face. It’s not long like his mom’s, but it's long enough to reach the top of his shoulders.

His mom lets out a tiny squeal of delight, “Oh my goodness, you look like a little angel. Sorry, I mean, your hair looks very handsome on you, Eddie.”

“I like it this way, but I know it's not what others like. So I keep it tucked away.” Eddie advises.

“Well, no need to do that here, sweetheart,” she beams at him and takes down her hair. This is our home, and you can be yourself here, ok? You’re whole true self,” her eyes dart to Wayne nervously and back to Eddie, “I mean, your Chicago home, you know. Not like your home-home.” She laughs awkwardly, “You know what? I’ll rustle us up a quick supper and leave you boys to it.”

Eddie busies himself unpacking, and Wayne doesn’t speak until his mom’s footsteps fade away. He strolls around the room and looks out of the window, out onto the city.

“Nice view,” he says.

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Say what you really wanna say, Wayne.”

Wayne turns around and starts picking up the clothes Eddie is laying on the bed and transferring them to the wardrobe hangers or drawers for him, “Just promise me if you wanna come home, you’ll call, ok? Don’t matter the time. I’ll come get ya as soon as I can. It ain’t no failing just ‘cus a place is too much for ya. It’s a big change, Ed, and you ain’t like ya mama. She’s like a damn rubber ball the way she bounces back from every knockdown.”

“I promise,” Eddie smiles at Wayne’s protectiveness, “Maybe you can’t see it, but maybe in a bigger place, I won’t stick out so much? I’ll stand a better chance slipping under the radar here than I did in Hawkins.” 

Wayne hums in that grumbly fashion he does when he knows he has to agree with Eddie but doesn’t want to.

“Let me just try, and I promise, I won’t hesitate to call if things start to go wrong,” Eddie reassures him.

Wayne tilts his head into view to receive the last of his knitted jumpers, “Even if that’s tomorrow?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs, “Even if that’s tomorrow.” 

Once all the clothes are away, they sit together around the kitchen table and demolish the plate of sandwiches between them. Eye-opening stories for each of them, some about baby Eddie, some about his mom and Wayne’s adventures, some tales from Wayne about older Eddie’s misadventures, and even some about his Mom starting out in the city. They laugh and share fond smiles until his Mom lets out a yawn, “I’m so sorry, I’ve been up since five this morning,”

“Sorry, Darlin’, I didn't realise the time. I should get goin’,” Wayne says as his eyes nervously dart to Eddie before focusing back on cleaning away the dishes.

“Now, Wayne, you haven't gotta do that, it’s fine!” “I won’t hear non’ a that. You made the food. I can sort the dishes before I head off,” Wayne says, collecting the plates.

Eddie watches his Mom play nervously with the hem of her shirt, “You know, Wayne, it’s kinda late. You could stay if you want to? I’ve got a camp bed or the sofa. You can take my room,”

“Absolutely not! It's Eddie’s first day in the city tomorrow, and he don’t need a shadow. Needs to make his own way,” Wayne says, clearing his throat afterwards.

Eddie feels that familiar nervous swirling in his stomach as he realises he hadn't spent more than the occasional sleepover or overnight camping trip away from Wayne in the last ten years. 

This was really it.

Suddenly, he felt lost, like he was drifting away from his mooring into the unchartered waters. Nausea was a very real and present sensation. Eddie quickly gets out of his seat to help Wayne with the dishes. He stands shoulder to shoulder with him, sending him an occasional smile while humming one of Wayne’s favourite songs.

Before they know it, the dishes are done, and all that is left is goodbye.

“Don’t wave me off. Stay up here, get a cocoa in ya, and off to bed. That's an order for both of ya,” Wayne tries to joke, but Eddie can hear a slight tremble in his voice, “So um, if anything, call me, ok, doesn’t matter what it is, like I said-”

Eddie pulls him in tight for a tight squeeze as he bites back his tears against Wayne’s shoulder, “Gonna miss you,” Is all Eddie can manage.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy, son.” He squeezes him back harder, “And speaks into his hair, “And if anything happens to you out here, you have my solemn vow, I’ll raze Hawkins to the ground, cus it’s that stupid fuckin’ town that took you away. I’ll give them hell until the end of my days.” 

“He’s gonna be ok, Wayne. I promise,” Eddie hears his mom attempt to reassure him.

His uncle squeezes him tightly one more time, pats him on the shoulders, and moves back to look at him, tears in both their eyes. Wayne swallows and wipes his eyes before turning to his mom, “Emmie, it was good to see ya. Uh. See ya later, Ed,” he says, shakes his hand, nods his goodbye to him, and leaves.

Eddie rushes to the window of his room. In the dark, he finally lets his tears fall as he watches his weeping uncle drive away.

“Gotcha, that cocoa, you’re uncle suggested, pretty plain, I’m afraid. Tomorrow, I’ll pick up some marshmallows.” he hears her set the mugs down, “May I?” She asks, and Eddie only weakly nods as he finds himself crying in his mother's arms for the first time in eleven years.

Eddie didn’t sleep well that night; he was not used to the noise, and his worries wouldn’t let him rest even if it were as quiet as back home.

He lays awake in bed, waiting to hear his Mom get up. He checks his watch, gives her five minutes, and then joins her.

“Morning Sweetheart, want some coffee?” He hears her call out as he walks to the bathroom.

“Yeah, that would be great, thank you,” he rolls his eyes a little at himself at how formal he’s being, but he’s just trying to be polite.

He makes his way to the kitchen and finds not just a coffee but a plate of scrambled eggs, too.

“You still like eggs, right?” She asks with an awkward smile.

Eddie nods happily, “Yeah. I do. Thank you.” He tucks his pajamaed self in by shuffling his chair forward with a squeak against the floor, and he instinctively winces, “Sorry.” He glances slightly up at her from the corner of his eye. She’s probably regretting this already.

She moves from the counter and sits beside him, “Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. You’re fine, honestly.” He raises his eyes to her piercing green ones, and she gives him that sweet smile of hers, “Listen, sweetheart, I get we don’t know one another too well. That’s on me. I love you, always have, and always will. Even though maybe I didn’t show it in all the ways a mother should,” she cautiously reaches her hand over his, and he pushes his hand into hers, “But I want to get to know you, as you are. Wayne filled me in on a lot, and I just want to repeat, this is our, um, Chicago home, right? And behind this door, you are one hundred per cent okay to be one hundred per cent yourself, even if you can’t do it out there. I know I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Eddie says, and he realises his voice sounds small, unlike the eighteen-year-old man he’s supposed to be.

“No way. Are you kidding me?” she laughs, “I’ve built myself from nothing here. I can do the jobs I wanna do. Manual work that doesn’t involve putting on a full face of makeup or putting up with sleazy guys. Sorry, too much. Uh. What I’m trying to say is if I acted my true, daydreaming, singing, ditzy self out there, even though I do every job I take on extremely well, no one would take me seriously. I wouldn’t be a person to call for people that live around here. I wouldn’t have been trusted to take on maintenance for this building and get this bigger apartment,” she squeezes his arm and softens her voice, “but when I step through that door. I drop all those masks. I’d go crazy if I didn’t,” she smiles at him, “and I don’t need a crazy man in my home. So just be yourself, sweetheart. Wayne has filled me in on some things you’re dealing with, but I won’t make you talk about them unless you want to. I know you want a fresh start. Just like I did when I got here, I want this home to be your springboard to your dreams, Eddie. Everyone deserves to try.”

Something about that sets Eddie more at ease, “Got it, M-mom,” he corrects, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “Mama.” He says with a happy smile, and she nods.

“Better?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he says as he moves his hand on top of hers and squeezes it, kissing her on the cheek, “Tons better,” he says, picking up his cutlery to eat. Against his better judgement, he eats exactly as he would at home, pretty much inhaling the food on the plate, as his Mom laughs and gets up to pour another coffee for herself.

“So I got a few jobs to do today. I know you said you didn’t want me chaperoning and wanted to discover the place for yourself, but I also promised Wayne I’d keep you safe, and obviously, I want that, too. So, I thought maybe you could do some shopping for me, stick to the area. I’ve even put the names of the stores down for you. When you’re done, if you want to roam around, don’t stray too far from Taylor Street, ok. That’s the kind of hub of this area, and it’s the community I know,”

“Yeah, I read about that. Is it just all Italians ‘round here then? Because of the name,” Eddie asks, finishing his last mouthful and picking up his coffee.

“No, not really. There are people from all over. Well, at one point in their family tree, but most of the people your age around here are born and bred in Chicago. It’s fascinating, really. You’re gonna have tons more things to inspire you here,” She smiles and pushes him over a piece of note paper with some money, “Feel free to grab yourself some lunch out of that too. Keep the change for yourself. Don’t wanna deprive my little wordsmith of anything,” She smiles at him in a way he’s seen before somewhere in his distant memories and something that reminds him of Wayne. She’s proud of me, he thinks to himself, and that surges him into action. 

He quickly cleans the dishes and gets ready for the day. His Mom kisses him goodbye, leaving him at his desk for a while, pondering out his window. Watching people come and go, he decides to wait an hour or so for it to quieten down. He spends time sketching out some people on the street and the buildings. His mom was right. This place had so much going on it was impossible not to be inspired, and an urge to get amongst it all sweeps over Eddie. He pins up his hair, hiding it under his hat, grabs his satchel, dumping in his art and writing supplies. Rushes into the kitchen to pick up his keys, money and jacket. 

He gives the door a shove to make sure he’s shut it properly, and confident in that, he tries to step away but finds himself yanked back because he’s closed his jacket in there.  Eddie rolls his eyes at his clumsiness and unlocks the door again, releasing his jacket and closing and rechecking it. He takes a breath, starts over, and makes his way down the stairs to the foyer, tips his hat and smiles at his new neighbours as he passes.

It’s not until he steps outside that anyone stops him. 

“Ey! You new around here, ain’t ya?” a deep voice calls out after him. Eddie’s heart is pounding. This is the first person he’s going to officially meet here as the new him. He puts a friendly smile on his face and turns to greet them.

It’s a guy who looks about his age with blond hair, most of which is slicked back in a pompadour style save for a solitary ringlet that fell down his forehead. A cigarette limply hangs from his lips as he mirrors Eddie's smile and uses his shoulder to push himself from the wall he is leaning against.

“Morning,” Eddie chirps back, “Yeah, uh, just got here last night.”

“Oh really?” He tilts his head and looks Eddie over, “Huh.” He steps forward and grabs Eddie’s satchel.

Eddie feels immediately flustered by the intrusion and how quickly this guy got into his space. He tries to laugh it off, “Hey, easy there,” he says, tugging his bag back and taking a few steps down the staircase from the man.

“Easy there,” he mimics and laughs, “You one of those squares from the university?”

Eddie tries to smile again, even though he can feel his old self just beneath the surface, ready to knock out this guy’s teeth. It must have been some sort of dumb prank, “No, I just wanted to try the city out.”

“Oh, you’re a hick?” The guy asks, narrowing his eyes. His grin grows to something sly as if he knows he’s pushing Eddie’s buttons. He jumps down to the step Eddie is on with a thud, takes a long draw on his cigarette, and blows the smoke in Eddie’s face. Eddie waves it away with his hand, making him throw back his head and laugh.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, repressing the urge to retaliate, turns his glare away and starts down the stairs again.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” He shouts after Eddie.

“Oh, I think we’re done here, buddy,” Eddie waves back with a forced laugh.

”Was that your old man last night? Crying in his car like a little bitch?” He shouts louder after Eddie.

That does it. Eddie wipes his hand down his lower face to contain the bubbling rage within him. No one talks about Wayne like that. Not this fucker, not anyone. 

What he wouldn’t give to be able to launch himself back up these stairs and send that dick crashing down them with his fist. But he’s not gonna let this asshole ruin his new start.

He turns back and looks up at him. “Ah, there he is,” the guy says with a weird sort of relief and a satisfied grin.

“You know, friend, maybe you shouldn’t be peering in the car windows or old men at night. You’ll get yourself a reputation,” Eddie shouts back at him and watches the guy’s face drop as a passing group of kids giggle at him.

Eddie smirks up at him and sends him a wink before continuing his day, leaving him standing dumbly on the staircase. 

This place was incredible. Eddie gets most of what his mom has asked for on the list from the locations on the small map she drew him. The grocery shop was the place nearest home and looked like the heaviest order, so he’d save that for last.

He circles back and drops in the light bulbs and various cleaning stuffs, and as it’s nice out, instead of staying cooped up inside, he decides to sit on the stairs and sketch some of the scenes around him as he munches on the sandwich from the deli.

He spots a group of girls over by a bench. Two are sitting down. One a light brown Italian-style haircut, like Sophia Loren, her big blue eyes bore into the pages of the book she's reading. Beside her is another girl trying to get something out of her light, mousy brown hair. Though their purposes seem different, they seem to be conversing, and the third, a girl with red hair, has decided to pretend the kerb is a tightrope and keeps her balance walking along it.

Eddie smiles to himself and gets to drawing. He should be trying to think of a main character for his story and draw that, but the inspiration hasn’t hit him yet. This place has too much he wants to capture. Maybe he should see if his mom has a camera or something.

Lost in the piece's details, he overlooks the shadow looming over him, and he’s too late to grab his sketch pad as it is snatched away from his lap. 

“Hey!” Eddie shouts and tries to grab it back, but the problem quickly becomes evident. It's the guy from earlier, only he has two other guys with him this time.

“Geez, what even is this shit,” he sneers at Eddie's drawing and shows it to his friends, who laugh along with him.

Eddie is so over this bullshit already, “Ok, you don’t like it. Fine. Just give it back, ok? And I’ll get away from your stairs, or whatever it is that's making you so upset,” he sighs and extends his hand towards him.

The blonde glares right into his eyes. He licks his teeth and spits on the ground before looking back at Eddie. A sinister smile spreads over his face again as he holds the pad aloft and turns his attention to the girls, “Hey! Ladies! Did you know you were all being perved on by some creep?” he yells over to them.

Eddie springs into panic, waving his hands in front of him. “Oh my god, no. It's not like that at all. I swear,” he frantically pleads with them as they frown at him and walk away, leaving the guys cackling amongst themselves. Great. Day one, and he’s already a fucking creep. What the fuck was this guy’s problem, anyway.

The guy plucks the cigarette out of the freckled boy's mouth and stubs it out on Eddie’s sketch pad, “Oops, better put that out, hadn’t I?” he drops the pad to the steps, stomps on it, grinds his boot into the pages and kicks it over to Eddie.

Eddie’s blood is boiling with rage, but he also feels like he could erupt into tears simultaneously. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just have this chance? Maybe he’d been so bad all the gods and the universe decided he doesn't get a do-over, and he has to pay for all the trouble he caused.

He looks at the trio and wonders if this is how Hawkins saw him and his gang. A cloud of terror just drifting to cause trouble and leave. Though Eddie never bullied anyone, he did annoy most businesses in town with his antics.

He picks up the pad and dusts it off, putting it in his bag, and he’s about to walk away, but he just can’t help himself. He turns back, eyes this dickhead with absolute disgust, “What is your problem with me anyway? I just got here. I’m not looking for trouble or trying to muscle in on anything you’ve got going on,”

They laugh, and the freckled one smirks, “How the fuck could you muscle in on anythin’? Look atcha. Nothing but an itty bitty weakling,” he jeers.

The one with shorter, cropped blond hair and narrow, icy blue eyes mimics him, “What's your problem with me anyway?” 

The main guy has a satisfied smirk, “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the shirt and pulling him in close, but Eddie doesn't cower and does not retaliate, just coldly stares right back at him. 

The guy looks Eddie’s face up and down. Like a closer inspection, now he's only inches away from it, “My problem is, I don’t like creeps on my block,” then he leans in to whisper in Eddie’s ear, “And also…I know what you are…Freak!”

Eddie’s stomach churns at the thought of what this guy could have already deciphered about him so quickly. Could he just be talking about the drawings, that he wasn't from here, or he wasn’t dressed right?

He jolts backwards out of his grip as the guy smugly tilts his chin in the air, the victor.

Not wanting to add to today's problems, Eddie simply gathers his things and decides to get the groceries.

The group blocks his path down the stairs, saying, “I’ve got things to do. So if you kindly let me pass, I can be on my way,”

“Don't be too long, now. We’ll be here waiting for when you get back,” the main stocky guy teases.

Eddie hurriedly bustles his way past them, briskly walking away, and doesn't look back. Not even once, as his pulse thunders in his ears. The city seems to swell and contract as the anxiety starts to weave its way into him, and he might have walked right on by the grocery store if not for the uneven sidewalk.

He manages to get his hands in front of him, preventing his face from meeting the pavement and scrambles to his feet.

“What? Not even a postcard?” A thick Chicago accent rings out. Eddie starts to feel the defensiveness rise in him. He’s going to give this joker a piece of his mind. It's only his first day here, and already, it's going to hell. It's a stupid joke, anyway, which makes no sense at all because he didn't trip. He fell. Couldn’t this moron even see that? He dusts off his new clothes and notices a small tear in the knee. And that might be the final straw. Eddie screws up his face in rage. Fists clenched at his sides, one finger extended, ready to point right at this guy.

“No! Not even-” Eddie begins angrily as he turns to the voice. But all language and oxygen leave him, and all he can do is take one gulp of an inhale like a human goldfish.

Standing in front of Eddie right now is something he can barely comprehend. A miracle has occurred, and it doesn't seem like the rest of the world has noticed because it's carrying on like this isn’t even happening. He can vaguely hear the cars and the shouts of others, but they are all starting to dwindle. It was like someone was turning the volume down on planet Earth, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and breathing.

Then, almost like a vignette is placed over his vision, blurring and darkening the edges, he can only focus on one thing.

The man of Eddie’s dreams.

Physically, at least.

He is right there.

Like the great animators in the sky plucked him out of his mind and drew him into existence.

Had he not put his hand out in time? Was he, in reality, currently knocked out by the fall, and that's why he can see this guy now?

He’s about the same height as Eddie. His hair is neatly cropped, not shoved away and hidden under a hat like his own. It’s side-parted, with a perfect swoop of brown, neatly combed and styled hair. Save for a few strands that hang over his forehead, rebelling against the pomade. His light brown eyes are shaped with a slight slope downwards, giving them a natural, hooded, adorable sadness, just like Elvis himself. But these are larger, which made them infinitely easier to get lost in. But there isn’t an ounce of sadness in the rest of that face as a cocky open-mouthed smile spreads across it. Tucked in the corner of his lips is a toothpick that rolls, as his tongue is idly toying with from inside his mouth as he looks Eddie up and down. 

Then there are those rose-blushed lips of his. They looked so soft, in direct opposition with the perfectly chiselled jaw they rested above. And all of this with a backdrop of olive skin littered with beauty marks. As if this guy needed any more indicators of how beautiful he was. Jesus.

Eddie dares to give him a rapid look up and down, and it is also awful news because not only did they give him the face of an angel, but they had to provide him with a body that would launch a million classical sculptors across all time into action. His shoulders are broad and sit atop two very pleasantly muscular arms. The white cotton t-shirt embraces them, one tighter than the other as it's rolled a little higher to hold his pack of smokes. The fabric stretches over his chest to reveal the mounds and dips of an anatomical landscape that Eddie is sure he would happily sit and admire for longer than any national landmark this fair country had to offer. Then the killing blow by this everyday garment is struck by how it falls and clings to his stomach, revealing he’s even got a slightly soft tummy. Eddie is starting to feel light-headed. This cannot be real.

Then Eddie notices something else, he’s wearing an apron, and in his arms is a crate of apples. He fucking works here. Oh god. Oh, god, no! Eddie starts to feel like he's overheating, and he’s eyelids flutter unintentionally.

“You ok dere, buddy?” The man’s smile and amusement take an eighty per cent plummet as they look over Eddie with concern.

He’s overwhelmed by everything happening right now, the whole day of mistakes leading up to it, questioning if it was even the right choice to come to the city in the first place. If all of these things were glaring warning signs, pointing him to go back home to Hawkins, stop chasing stupid dreams, and get a job with his Uncle Wayne at the factory. And this…this man at his local store of all places spelt trouble for him. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t good at hiding his thoughts or feelings. 

That was it decided. He would turn around now, go pack, and go home. This was a stupid idea. Eddie feels a tightness across his shoulders start to spread, his palms heat up, and he realises he’s been staring into space for the last few seconds. 

He tries to run, but his legs suddenly feel like lead, and though he’s stopped, the world spins around a few more times. Instead of the street being in his eye line, the horizon starts to fall, and all he can see is the sky before he feels his back hit something, but it's not hard like the ground. Soon, the horizon returns, as does the street and the face of an angel, moving him to sit on the ground outside the store, next to a pyramid of oranges.

“I need ya to sit right here, ok buddy. I’m gonna get ya some water, alright?” the angel’s mouth moves, and Eddie watches it seriously to make sure he can hear every one of his precious words.

He pats him on the shoulders, steps toward the store door, and pauses before looking back and tilting his head, “What's ya name?”

He is still a little dizzy, but he knows the answer to that question, “Eddie.” he replies quickly. 

The man smiles hugely and repeats his name like he’s testing it out. He places his toothpick behind his ear, “I’m Stefano, yous can call me Steve. Most do,” he gives him a little two-finger wave and disappears inside the store.

Eddie nods a dopey smile of thanks and then tries to take in his surroundings but nearly snaps his neck, looking back just as the guy goes through the door. Holy heck. Turns out it wasn’t just the front of this guy that was stunning. Eddie blows out a breath and stares at the ground. Yeah, this was bad, very bad. He needed to get his things and go home. Maybe getting knocked out by three guys might be slightly less painful than what this situation could be.

Eddie wobbles to his feet and walks to his bag and drawing equipment strewn across the sidewalk.

“EY! I thought I told you to sit right ‘dere?” Steve orders with a loud authority, and there is a clatter of something wooden.

“I’m fine, really,” Eddie says quickly, avoiding looking at him.

“You ain’t fine, buddy. You near hit da deck twice!” Steve says, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back towards the store. Eddie’s eyes turn to him again, and he feels all resistance leave him entirely and is seated on an upturned wooden container. Eddie notices that Steve has made a makeshift table and two chairs entirely out of crates. 

He can’t resist looking back over at him as he bends over to pick up Eddie’s things from the ground, and an internal battle rages as Eddie has to force himself to look elsewhere. This guy had been kind, so far anyway, so it wasn’t right to gawk at him, and also, Eddie shouldn’t be ogling guys. That was a one-way ticket to getting your head kicked in town.

Eddie’s stomach drops as he sees Steve stand and observe the sketch pad as he walks back over to him, “Oh…er… it's not what you think. I swear,” Eddie quickly defends.

“What? That you ain’t an artist?” Steve looks up at him, confused.

“No, well, kinda. I men. Fuck. I mean, “ As Steve’s eyes meet his own with a smirk, he gets lost in his eyes again, “Shit, I don't know what I mean.” He says finally with what he is sure is the dopiest, enamoured smile on his face.

Steve sits on the crate opposite him and hands him back his things apart from the pad he’s still observing. Eddie follows his eyes as they trail over the paper and watches his beautiful long lashes bat as he blinks. He vows to draw them all night until he has a perfect version and then hide it in an old tome in the national library so they’ll never be forgotten by time.

“OK, first, your soda. Hope dats alright. I thought yous might need the sugar,” he turns and whacks the cap off the bottle against the store window ledge. The muscles in his arm visibly flex as he does so and offers it over to Eddie, who accepts it gratefully and quickly diverts his eyes to the bottle itself.

For a second, Eddie's fingers brush against Steve’s, making the skin tingle like there is static between them, and he finds himself avoiding his eyes again as he drinks.

Eddie has not been shy since he can remember. He’s an all-singing, all-dancing, one-man vaudeville extravaganza, and he was trying to be a quieter, more reflective version of himself, but he wasn’t trying to be shy. But this guy made him feel goofy. Like someone had injected him with pure intoxication. Eddie knows he should stop biting the inside of his lip and stop staring, but he feels like it’s out of his control. The universe had put this heavenly body in Levis before him, and what was he supposed to do? Reject the gift? Force his way out of its orbit? No, but he didn’t want to repay the guy's kindness with his weird staring, so he kept trying to focus on other things. Anything that might save him from the flawless man realising he was appreciating him in a more than friendly way.

Eddie figures he must be doing an okay job. The guy hasn’t exhibited any of the usual aggressive tells Eddie had learned in Hawkins. When you're eager for a kiss or to dodge a fist, you learn to be observant of that shit quickly.

Steve tilts his head into his eye line, and once he has his attention, he moves it back to upright and smiles and asks, “Now I got a coupla questions, alright witcha?” Eddie nods in agreement as his eyes obediently follow him, as does the same smile he can’t seem to wipe from his face.

“You don’t sound like yous from here. You lost?” He asks.

Eddie shakes his head, “Nah, not lost. Not at all,” he means that he feels found when Steve looks at him, “But I did only get here last night,” Eddie offers up freely, and part of his brain is too slow to protest the fact he shouldn’t be telling a stranger more than they ask for.

Steve’s smile widens, “Dat makes sense,” Eddie watches his fingers trail over the paper where the cigarette has burned the pages, and a fresh feeling of embarrassment floods him. He could have taken the three of them. This guy sure wasn’t going to be impressed when he found out he’d effectively run away.

“It does?” Eddie asks, suddenly eager to have Steve look at him again.

“Yeah. I ain’t seen you before. Woulda remembered,” Steve sends him a charming boyish smile as the toothpick in his mouth moves from one side of his mouth to the other, “So, uh-“ he starts but is quickly interrupted.

“STEFANO!! ‘Owa, long is it gonna take for yous to finish the apples, eh? We’ll have a whole orchard ina here beforea you’re done. Amonini!” A woman’s voice rings out loud and clear, bursting the dreamy bubble Eddie was sitting in.

He looks over for Steve’s reaction. His eyes are wide, and a faint blush hits his cheeks and jaw, “‘Scuse me, Eddie,” he pockets Eddie’s pad in his apron and returns to the crate of apples Eddie had seen him carrying. He sets it out on the sloped display and is about to sit back down when he’s stopped in his tracks again.

“Stefano!! Why you no answer me?” The woman’s voice calls out again, annoyed and getting closer. Eddie watches Steve close his eyes slowly and slams down the second crate.

“IM DOIN’ IT, MA!” He yells back at the top of his lungs, goes back inside and re-emerges with another few crates piled up on top of one another.

“Urgh dissa boy, I swear. STEFANO!” Eddie hears the woman very clearly now, even though she isn’t shouting, and he looks up to see an open window she must be upstairs.

“MA! I'M DOING IT ALREADY!” Steve yells back, his beautiful brow frowns petulantly as he roughly shoves the crates into the display in an adorable little tantrum.

“Why you take-a so long? Huh?”

“Ma! I just fucking stepped foot out here! Gimme a fuckin’ chance! I’m only one man! Jesus!” 

“STEFANO EMILIO HARRINGTON, Don-na tell me you takin’ Jesus’ name in vain,” her voice travels around the place until Eddie hears the sound of footsteps and the ring of the bell as the door is yanked open. A woman’s face emerges. Initially, she looks furious, “Listen to how my son talks to me. You heara dat? What kinda terrible mother have I been to deserve that? Oh, the worst!” It feels like she says it to Eddie, but her words could have been for anyone in earshot.

Eddie's eyes turn to Steve, who, though now quite red in the face, probably from carrying all those crates around, is having some kind of absolutely silent conversation with his mother. It was the complete opposite of the yelling match they were just having. They gesture their hands in pointed, stern ways at first. Fingers pinched together, their eyes and faces express some kind of disagreement that soon dissolves to calm, and his mother’s eyes turn to Eddie for a second before she turns back to Steve and drags her thumb down her cheek with a big smile at him. He shrugs and looks a little bashful. She nods and goes back inside.

He watches Steve take a deep breath, and he walks over to sit back down on his crate seat, “Sorry ‘bout dat. So, uh, are you an artist den?” He pulls the pad back out and places it between them.

The sudden intrusion of Steve’s mom seems to give Eddie some of the English language back, “ I, um, yeah, I like to draw, but I wanna write,” he says and takes a swig of his drink immediately after speaking, to prevent himself from waffling too much.

“Oh, like for da paper?”

“Uh, well, maybe,” Eddie cannot bring himself to tell this beautiful being he’s wrong, “But books mostly. Stories and things like that,” now he feels that shyness again. Sometimes, it feels dumb to talk about his dreams out loud. Steve probably thinks he’s an idiot without a real job, but there isn’t a crumb of negativity on Steve’s face, just a broad smile.

“O’ course, you write stories and draw. Course ya do,” he says with a happy shake of his head, “Well ya know, if, er, yeah, I can always put a word in for you at da paper. I knowaguy,” Steve offers kindly, and Eddie can feel himself falling in love with how he talks with every word he says, on top of how kind and beautiful he is.

“Gee, that’d be swell,” Eddie says, unable to hide his gigantic grin.

Steve taps his finger on the pad, “I think. I might know these girls,” though Steve says it with a smile, Eddie freezes. Worried this man’s initial kindness was going to sour quickly now. He probably thinks the same as the guy outside his building. He feels such an idiot for drawing it in the first place, but he doesn’t see anything wrong in it because, for starters, one was an actual child, and the other two were beautiful. He could see that, but the same way he’d feel about a sunset or a lovely tree, not beautiful like attraction, not like he felt about Steve, but he couldn’t just tell someone that, so he plays along.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie keeps it short and tries not to make this worse than it needs to be.

“Yeah, dis one with da book. ‘Dats Nancy, she used to be my girl,” Steve says, not taking his eyes from the pad. Eddie's space rocket of impossible dreams explodes before it even leaves the stratosphere and sends his stomach plummeting. What did he expect, though, really? Steve’s finger moves across the paper, and he taps the heads of the other two girls, “Deez two, my sisters.” Shit. Eddie feels the need to run. This guy is gonna flip out any minute and probably crush his head like a melon between two of these wooden crates. But both through fear and the fact that Steve raises his soulful brown eyes to meet his, he stays put.

He knows he should say something, but he’s struggling to find the right watertight words and has no chance of being misunderstood. But he can’t think straight when he can see almost every small pigment detail in Steve’s eyes and presses his lips together, afraid he might just say something about them instead.

A loud slam of a car door pushes a word out of Eddie, “B-beautiful,” he blurts out.

“Oh,” Steve replies and pushes the pad over to Eddie. The smile fades from his lips, and Eddie hates it, so he just lets his motormouth let rip.

“The scene. I mean. The scene was beautiful. Not the girls. I mean, yes, they are beautiful, but I don't mean in that way. They were together but so different, and when I sat down to draw, they were perfectly framed from where I was sitting. I was inspired by them, you know? Like a nice tree or something. Back home is so different from here. All I had to draw sometimes were nice trees. I don’t know why I’m telling you about nice trees. I’m just saying that I didn't mean any harm. I know better now. I won’t do it again. I swear. This city has plenty more things that are inspiring. I just thought they looked kinda like if a personality was a group of people. I thought that fit this place because it's a huge mixture of cultures, sounds, and sights.”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave Eddie’s, “Da girl holdin’ the book. Dat’s Nancy. We used to date a while back. She’s real smart. I reckon yous two would get along real well. I could introduce ya if you want?”

“Oh god, no!” Eddie says way too quickly, with a laugh, “I mean, no, thank you. I’m not looking for a girl. I mean, I’m not looking to date right now. But thank you.” he awkwardly recovers as quickly as he can. Well, at least hopes he has. He thinks maybe he’s slightly successful as Steve leans forward a little to rest his chin on his fist, and a smile reappears.

“You know, maybe you could do it from here next time you wanna draw or write? ‘Deres normally a table, but I had to take it inside to fix somethin’ on it,” Eddie glimpses through the window of the store and quite clearly can see two elderly gentlemen playing checkers on it, “It’d be nice to have a creative type use it, prob’ly attract more people like ‘dat. If you wan’ I mean,” he says kindly.

Eddie can’t believe his luck. Yeah, sure, today had started off a complete mess, but now he had a movie-star-looking guy, basically saying, spend time with me every day, doing what you love. If it wasn’t for how Steve flips the toothpick around in his mouth, Eddie would have been completely lost in his eyes and swooned clear off the crate in front of him.

“Gosh, that's really kind of you. When are you usually here? Every day?” Eddie asks, maybe a little too enthusiastically, which makes Steve laugh, and it might be sweeter than morning birdsong to Eddie’s ears.

“Well-” Steve starts but is interrupted as the bell above the door rings again.

His mom emerges with a tray of coffee and tiny cups. This time, Eddie jumps to his feet to introduce himself properly and not just sit and stare. He quickly neatens up his clothes and clumsily tries to angle his leg, so it hides the tear in his pants. He almost laughs at his eagerness to impress her. He supposes he is new and wants to make a good impression, but he knows it's more than that. He knows that his fantasy brain is running away with him again, trying to impress the object of his affection’s mother. Like this could ever be a thing.

The small woman has beautifully coiffed dark brown hair, and her eyes look just the same as Steve’s, except her’s are expertly lined with makeup. She beams at Eddie as she sets the tray on the crate, which wobbles, and Steve rushes inside the store momentarily. Leaving Eddie and his mom smiling awkwardly at one another for a moment. Eddie can hear some raised voices but can’t make out any of the words the raised voices are exchanging and figures they must be talking in Italian. The two elderly men from inside emerge, grumbling. One with the checkerboard under his arm storms out first, followed by a second, who flicks his hand under his chin at Steve, who laughs and yells after them, “Well, if yous two ordered more dan a biscotti to share every day, den maybe you’d keep the table!” he shakes his head, “Fuckin’ stunad,”

“Stefano!” his mom reprimands him as he exchanges the crates for actual furniture. He seats his mom first as if that doesn't make Eddie’s heart beat faster with how sweet he is. He looks at Eddie and then down at the tray, and for a second, Eddie can’t do anything except look back like he’s hypnotised or something, but his mom coughs daintily, and Eddie realises what he needs to do and lifts the tray, as Steve swaps in a small table, and goes rushes back into the store and virtually jumps down the steps on his return, puts a chair one side of his mom, and then walks around to where Eddie and set down the last chair.

“Ma, dis is Eddie,” Steve whacks him hard on the back, and Eddie has to pinch his lips together in a smile to stop the oof from being expelled from them, from the sheer force of it, “He’s gonna be a big shot writer, ain’t dat right, Ed?”

Eddie dared not look at Steve right now. He was so close he felt the breath that contained his abbreviated name against his cheek. He keeps his eyes on Steve’s mom and offers an upturned hand towards her. She looks at him strangely but obliges him, putting her hand in his, and he kisses the back of it.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m sure gonna try to make it at least,” he smiles back as she raises an eyebrow at Steve with an impressed face, and Eddie feels like this is his first shoot and success of the day.

But he’s not ready for feeling Steve’s warm hand slide against the small of his back as he guides him down into his chair and tucks it in for him, “Dere you go, much better, right?” Steve says happily as he returns to his own seat, and Eddie’s eyes obediently follow him all the way there, but when Steve’s eyes catch his again, he quickly looks away.

“You look, uh, wassa the word, similar,” his mom says, pulling his attention from the mosaic pattern on the tiny cups and saucers.

“It’s familiar, Ma,” Steve corrects, gently pouring the coffee into the cups from an odd-looking contraption.

“Ah, yeah, familiar,” she moves a finger quickly in front of her face, “Your eyes.”

“Oh, maybe you know my Mama, I mean mom,” Eddie says, quickly correcting himself again, but Steve and his mom exchange a happy look with one another and then back at Eddie, so he figures maybe they at least found it amusing rather than stupid.

“What's her name?” Steve asks, passing a tiny cup and saucer to his mom first and then to Eddie.

“Esmerelda,” Eddie tries, but two blank faces look back at him, “Uh, Esmerelda Munson, she lives right over there,” Eddie points out the building as he turns behind him.

The clatter of a teaspoon makes him spin around quickly to two now stunned faces.

“You're dat Eddie? Mrs Munson’s boy?” Steve asks hurriedly. 

Though the fear swirls in his gut that maybe his reputation might have preceded him, he’s in too deep to lie, “Yeah, you know her?” he says, swallowing nervously.

Steve’s mom claps her hands together, holds them up to her mouth like she's in prayer, and looks up to the canopy above them with a big smile.

“We sure do,” Steve grins, “She helped us out a lot when Pa passed. She’s a real kind lady.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must be difficult,” Eddie adds somberly as he watches how Steve drinks from the small cup and saucer and copies him. He understands immediately why this stuff is sipped and is in such tiny cups. It's much richer than regular coffee, almost thicker, and sweet too. It's delicious. Eddie can’t help himself and takes another sip immediately and lets out an involuntary sound of appreciation before setting down his cup.

“Si, a real, uh, ball-busta,” Steve's mom says happily.

Eddie nearly chokes on thin air as Steve complains, “Ma! Jesus! You don’t say that!” but Eddie can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, I guess she is a bit,” he beams at Steve’s mom, who pats pinches his cheek.

“Biddicchiu,” she laughs with him as Steve passes her the sketch pad and juts his thumb towards Eddie. Her eyes scan over the paper.

��I said Ed was welcome to work from here if he wants,” Steve says, “Hope dats ok?”

His mom nods, then gestures to the cigarette burn on the paper and the scuff marks. She speaks to Steve in Italian. Eddie guesses that because he can’t understand much, but he recognises her anger when she points her hand sharply at Eddie’s building, frowns deeply, and taps her temple. Eddie stays quiet and watches Steve reassure her.

“Can I have dissa one?” she says, gesturing at Eddie’s drawing.

“Yeah, but I can draw you a better one than that, on nicer-” Eddie starts, but she has already torn out the paper and folded it away in her own apron pocket.

“Ma says you’re welcome here anytime,” Steve smiles at him. Eddie is pretty sure there is more to what his mom said than that, but he doesn't want to press it, “We live just above here, so, uh, it dont matter what da time is, you know? One-a us’ll be here.” 

“Thank you, that's real kind,” Eddie says politely.

Steve's mom grips Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him seriously, “Listen to me, don-a talk widda, those boys over there. They no good. You come here, we not mucha further. Then your mama, no worry,” Eddie nods, and her red lipstick smile adorns her face again, “Besides, we gotta good food, better coffee, and a much nicer view, uh?” Eddie follows her eyes to Steve, who is blushing. Maybe he’s a bit embarrassed because he’s also had a run-in with those guys.

“Yeah, much better,” Eddie agrees, and Steve’s mom pats his cheek.

“Smart boy,” she says happily and looks up at Eddie’s building again, “I think deeza buildings so close you could see Stefano’s window from yours,” Eddie has no idea why she’s blessing him with this information, but his brain rapidly works out that he could probably see it from his own bedroom.

“MA!” Steve says in alarm and nudges her, then hurriedly clears up the tray as she lets out a melodic laugh, clutching her sides. Her eyes trail after him as he goes inside.

She turns back to Eddie, “My boy, he's good. Make you-a good friend. Yes?” She asks and puts a finger to her cheek and twists it around. She looks encouragingly at him, “You like?” She repeats the gesture against her cheek.

“Yes,” Eddie says enthusiastically. Even though he doesn't just like it here. He loves it here. They’d been so friendly and obviously tried to not think about the other things he liked about here.

“Si,” She says, takes Eddie's hand, and makes him mirror her gesture.

She lets go and tries again, “You like?”

“Si,” Eddie repeats and actions the gesture himself this time. She claps her hands together happily.

As Steve rejoins them, she starts talking at him, rapidly gesturing with her hands between himself and Steve. He can pick out his name and cafe, which he thinks must be related to coffee.

“Alright, alright, geez ma,” Steve says, looking a little confused at her and then turns to Eddie, “Before she has some kinda fit aboudit, she wants me to ask if yous liked the espresso,” Steve looking at him with a bashful smile.

Eddie is nudged in the ribs by Mrs Harrington, who nods encouragingly at him again. He cautiously raises his finger to his cheek and turns it, “Si?” he says awkwardly and looks between them.

At first, Steve's mouth parts ever so slightly, like he's going to say something, then his eyes move to his mom, and he shakes his head but can’t seem to wipe the smirk from his face.

The bell over the door rings, and they all turn towards it, and the customer that just entered. Steve stands, but his mother shakes her head at him and gently pushes him back into his seat as she stands up. At the door, she turns back to Eddie, “If your mama worksa late, you come eat with us.” That didn't sound like a question to Eddie, but he nodded anyway. She tuts and tilts her head at him, a playful frown on her brow.

“Si,” Eddie tries again, and she looks delighted as she ruffles Steve’s hair and walks into the store.

“Sorry about dat,” Steve says, picking at the table, “She’s a a lot sometimes.”

“Oh, I didn't mind at all,” Eddie replies truthfully, and suddenly, he remembers why he was coming this way anyway, “Oh god, food. Yeah, I have to get food, that's…” Eddie rummages through his things and finds the notepaper.

“Want some help?” Steve asks, standing at the same time Eddie does.

“No, you’ve done so much already. I couldn’t keep taking up your time like this,” Eddie laughs awkwardly, but all he really wants to do is say yes.

Steve waves his hand, “It’s no trouble for a paying customer,” He says and walks towards the steps to the store with Eddie. As they reach the door, Steve pushes it open for him, “Allow me, Sir,” he chuckles and follows Eddie inside.

Steve guides him around the place, helps Eddie find everything on his list, and puts an extra small box on top as he rings up the groceries.

“What's that?” Eddie asks curiously.

“Cannoli, your Ma likes ‘em,” Steve answers as Eddie places the money in his hand, trying not to let his fingers linger against his palm longer than they should.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Eddie smiles, unsure exactly what it was, but he’d be sure to pass it on, all the same.

“Want me to walk you home? I’ll make sure Billy, Jason and Tommy don't give you any trouble,” Steve says, leaning over the counter towards him.

Something about that made Eddie’s heart race, but he didn't want to appear weak, “No, it's fine. I’m used to it, just it was my first day here, and it kinda got to me, is all.” And that doesn't feel like as much of a lie as it seemed. Having this oasis of safety with Steve and his family didn’t make the thought of Billy and his goons seem so awful.

“You still gonna come by tomorrow?” Steve genuinely asks, his eyes big and innocent, scanning over Eddie as he gathers the grocery bags.

“Yeah, course I will,” Eddie answers like Steve asked him the most ridiculous question in the history of all mankind, “I feel pretty inspired again already,” Eddie smiles fondly at Steve, who was rapidly becoming one of his favourite things in the universe.

“Yeah?” Steve says, plucking the toothpick from behind his ear and putting it back in his mouth, “I reckon dis place could maybe be a great beginning…for your story, I mean,” he says, walking around the counter and holding the door open for Eddie again, following him outside.

“Tomorrow then,” Eddie smiles at him, trying not to sigh because tomorrow already felt too far away. Steve nods back, and Eddie catches a glimpse of Steve’s mom in the window. He gives her a wave and starts walking back to the apartment.

As he reaches the corner, he looks back. He can see Mrs Harrington buzzing and fussing around Steve, who looks like he is laughing and pretending to fight her off. He smiles to himself, and with the staircase of the building clear of idiots, he thinks that maybe Steve is right. 

This could be a perfect place for the beginning of his new story.

[louisapennyfeather2021]

Welcome to Sam's Dream Journal.

Entry #1(the one and ONLY entry):

Last night I have a dream that had a plot, but I forget all of it because I saw a giant Ao3 banner on a TV screen advertising the release of the third fanfic of a series and told myself I had to tell the Group Chat about it.

The fic was titled "UNDERWORLD TO 53" and was the continuation of Former President Bill Clinton waking up in Area 51 only to find himself impregnated by one of the aliens that had infiltrated the United States. Fic #1 had been about how, during his presidency, Clinton's administration discovered that aliens were real and hid the information away. Fic #2 took place during Hillary's run for president when Bill dove back into politics with the intention of revealing the truth to the People before it was too late, only for the aliens to begin their invasion in Area 51. UNDERWORLD TO 53 followed Bill, Hillary, and the alien spawn as the Clinton's spread word to each state that aliens had compromised various US cities such and Tampa and San Francisco.

Don't ask me where this absolute crack riddled dream came from, I'm just as pained as you are that my subconscious created it.

It was complete with an Ad Banner of a map of the United States with markers for compromised cities, quotes from the fic, and tags(including mpreg).

Some brave soul on the internet will see this and turn it into a cracked masterpiece.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Whatever, the only writers I Care about are my lovely Clexa ficwriters❤️

I say this with all the kindness toward you in the world, but I do not like this at all. At all.

Not to be holier than thou but you should care. I mean they are human beings who are just asking to be paid a reasonable amount for their work. And tbh I'm not sure if a lot of people outside the US (even in the US and just aren't directly effected by it) understand exactly what's going on here. The truth is we're being driven to a fucking breaking point. The cost of everything, EVERYTHING, is going up all the time and we're not being paid enough to match it. These fat cat corporations and greedy fucking billionaires are quite literally making it so people can't afford food and rent. This strike, while its been a long time coming, is just a very visible and tangible example of something that's wrong across the board. These people are driving force behind a global money making industry and they even aren't getting paid enough for their work to live and eat. And that's the same work which we fanfic writers then use as inspiration to write our own fics for free in between working and struggling ourselves.

They'd not asking to become millionaires, they're just asking to be paid even remotely fairly. And they're being told no because a handful of people who are already richer than you or I will ever be say they simply can't afford it. Bullshit. It's all bullshit. It's just another excuse to keep workers impoverished and a slave to their job. It's yet another example of this country's elite taking advantage of the working persons labor.

And this is just a sidenote not even directly aimed at you anon, so don't take it personally because it's not, but I kindly want to nudge people to really evaluate the assumption that if this turns ugly and drags on forever and all tv and movies turn to shit, that they'll be able to just turn to fanfic. The problem there is every day more and more fanfic writers and artists stop creating because of how little support they get. I'm lucky because so many of you guys interact with me and I love it, I do and that's what keeps me going. But I'm also not blind to the fact that on a long ask/answer post I made, the accidental poll attached has 30+ votes, but only about 20 notes and not even 5 reblogs. Fanfic writers get burned out too. Especially when it feels like they're pumping out work and getting barely anything in return. Smaller creators especially, but even with bigger accounts there's only so much they can do.

So please, support those writers that are striking. Support your fanfic writers who use their work as a building block. Support your artists who take these concepts and then turn them into masterpieces. Because all of them are just people trying do what they love while still being able to feel valued for their time.

[forest-falcon]

WIP Wednesday

Given that Virgil is into music and art, I thought, why not writing? I have a fair bit more written for this fic but I'm still tweaking it. Anyway, a bit of FishTank for WIP Wednesday!

Night Shift 

An alarm sounded and Gordon Tracy woke, ready for duty. Thankfully, it wasn't the piercing IR alert designed to wake even the likes of Virgil; so he stretched, kicked off his covers, then lay back, allowing himself a moment or two to appreciate his diverse collection of tropical fish, despite the ungodly hour. Most of his diurnal species had chosen to tuck themselves away into various crevices within the coral. He envied their option to rest as he forced himself out of bed and grabbed the nearest clothes to hand. 

The aquanaut followed his feet towards the comms room; his brain slow to shake the dregs of sleep. A warm breeze greeted him as he entered. 

Damn, does Scott never sleep?  

He looked to his Father's desk, but found it empty so scanned the balcony and spotted Virgil scribbling away. Grabbing a bowl of cereal, he headed over to join the brother who should have long been in bed. 

"What are you drawing?"

"Not drawing. Writing...well, trying to." 

Gordon attempted to read the room...balcony. Virgil didn't seem to mind his intrusion, so he perched on the neighbouring lounger and took another bite of his cereal.

"I thought you were an artist?"

"Can't I be both?" 

Virgil's baritone was mumbled out from around a pencil held between his lips. If Grandma could see them now, she'd clout the pair of them.

"Besides, I wouldn't really call myself an artist. I dabble..." His older brother shrugged.

"Don't you sell your art to studios for like four figures?"

"Sometimes five."

"Wow, imposter syndrome much?"

Virgil snorted.

"Who made you my therapist?"

"Just calling it as I see it bro. You should give yourself more credit."

He was rewarded with one of his brother's heartwarming smiles.

"Thanks." 

Virgil returned to silently re-reading one of his pages for possibly the fifth time in as many minutes. The paper was littered with arrows leading to hastily scribbled notes and no shortage of question marks. The engineer made a couple of sharp intakes of breath, as if calculating possible additions to his plot, before letting out a long exhale in defeat. The dog-eared journal, discarded in disgust, fell open at the floor. Gordon was quick to scoop it up.

"Don't!" A wall of muscle scrambled off the chair.

It was a weird combination to see something so big and powerful so...vulnerable? His brother gave the impression of a startled horse ready to turn and bolt.

"Aren't stories meant to be read?"

"It's not finished yet."

"I don't mind."

"Yeah but I'm not sure I want anyone I know reading it."

"Why, is it about us?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Gordon wasn't entirely sure why he was pushing his brother on this. Virgil's art was exquisite, so a part of him was genuinely curious to know what new masterpiece his brother had created. Another part of him almost felt the need for his brother to trust him. They put their lives in each other's hands on a regular basis. Why would Virgil not trust him with this?

"I...don't know." The engineer in Virgil always liked to give people a proper answer to any queries, but his brain denied him any real reason not to share his work, maybe other than the quiet fear of being judged. But Gordon wasn't like that. His brother had an arsenal of practical jokes, but they were matched by just as many compliments.

"Isn't your art 'n' music the same sorta thing though?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

A shrug.

"Somehow, it doesn't feel the same. I can't explain why. I guess...I'm new to writing. I'm used to you guys hearing me play."

Gordon smiled. Trust had to be earned and he had no intention of pressuring his wingman to dive beyond his comfort zone.

"Fair enough. I won't pry. You have your secrets and I have mine."

"What secrets?"

Truth be told, he didn't have any, but it was fun to keep his brother guessing, so he gave an impish grin, and wiggled his eyebrows for good measure. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 

"Fine." Virgil shrugged with a smile.

Gordon shoveled another spoonful. "Doesn't look like much fun though. Looks like you've more variables to solve in that little journal of yours than Brains tackles in his lab."

"Meh, the characters keep taking charge of the story and it derails my plot."

"Virgil?"

"What?"

"They're. Not. Real." He whispered emphatically.

"That's what I keep telling them."

"Dude..." Gordon shook his head with mock disbelief.

Virgil ignored him, but continued to erode the end of his pencil with his teeth. 

"You know you'll be blaming Brains for how those look in a few days. Why don't you take a break? Sleep. You'll be fresher in the morning."

"Can't sleep."

"Peru?"

"All of it."

There was a pause.

Virgil's shoulders slumped, his eyebrows knitting in a way that darkened his already silhouetted features. "It's never... about the one bad rescue though, is it? ...They're just the catalyst to unleash the rest of the sh*tty iceberg we keep trying to bury below the surface." 

"Just as well you have the most talented and by far the most handsome aquanaut here to come 'n' pick you up! I'll have you know that navigating treacherous seas is kinda my speciality."

[ben-is-cold]

2AM Engineer mini fic thing :)

This contains our good friend the Engineer waking up at 3AM and being sad and scared. It's a little angsty, but not like... Terribly, if you know what I'm saying. Also, it was written at 3AM so don't expect a super long masterpiece written like poetry

I'll post this on AO3 at some point, probably.

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

MICROSCOPE

Engineer can't sleep. Regret rears it's ugly head and taunts him.

CONTENT WARNINGS

• Mentions of Breast Cancer

• Mentions of Death

He hated these nights. They were an open invitation for the demons of his past to dig themselves out of the graves he'd buried them in over the years. It was the one problem that he had never been able to fix.

↓

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

He hated these nights. Like the universe was playing a sick joke on him, he would wake up for no reason. It was still dark. He turned over to look at the clock, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the neon red light he had turned his back on to sleep. He realized what kind of night it was going to be when he saw the lights read 3:54, which he knew meant that in actuality that it was 2:48, because his clock was always set to an hour and six minutes behind the actual time until daylight savings reared its ugly and unnecessary head.

He huffed and turned back over. He would spite whatever force decided he needed to be up at this ungodly hour, because he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with what he knew was coming. And, predictably, he couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, he wasted eighteen minutes laying in the same position. Not that he had anything to do. That would make this easier, and god knew he couldn’t have that, right? He couldn’t drown himself in work again, because he had exhausted every single thing he had to do. Every. Single. One. Pauling had even told him that he should take a break, that maybe he was working himself too hard, but he knew the truth. He needed to work. Nobody understood.

If he didn’t have anything to preoccupy his mind, it would create something to preoccupy him. That was nice when it was blueprints and ideas for inventions, but it rarely ever was, especially at this time of night. That would be too easy. Instead, it would run him ragged fearing for his life, because there were eyes and cameras watching him everywhere, and he needed to think about how he said the wrong thing to her at the place ten years ago, and he knew she despised him, and she was wishing him ill at this very moment, and she was right. He needed to be perfect in every aspect, and it bothered him to no end that he couldn’t achieve that perfection in his social life.

Where was he? His mind tended to wander, but now it was firmly cemented in place, because he could feel the eyes on his back. He was staring at the insides of his eyelids to avoid having to face them, but that didn’t work for long. He knew it was futile. Why did he keep trying that? He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He needed to turn on the light. He needed his Gunslinger, but if he moved that would be an open invitation for the intruder to do something to him. To strangle him, to backstab him like a damn snake, to hit him over the head.

This was getting to be too much. He couldn’t stay stuck here forever. He lunged for the lamp on his nightstand, his heart dropping when he fumbled and missed the button the first time, quickly scrambling to push it correctly, and he reeled back against the headboard so that there couldn’t possibly be anything behind him. He was ready to scream, it was in the back of his throat, waiting to be unleashed, as if it would do anything to protect him.

Oftentimes, the Engineer wondered what would happen if his fears actually came true. If there was a figure stalking him, and he came face-to-face with whoever, or whatever, it was. What would he do? In that situation, he figured, he would be fucked either way, no matter what he did, because he was unprepared and didn’t sleep with his Gunslinger attached, so he only had one arm. Of course, this never happened. He was always faced with a cold, unfeeling room staring at him instead of an intruder. He didn’t know which he preferred.

The Engineer was a logical man. That was why this infuriated him so much. There was no logical explanation for his behavior, and there was no explanation for his mind going haywire, and yet he could help the terror that plagued him. The human mind was a machine, but not like the ones he worked with, the ones he knew inside and out better than any other person in his field. It was simply outside of his field of expertise, and it frustrated him to know that if he wanted answers, he would have to rely on someone else to get them. It made it even more terrible that it would likely have to be from arguably one of the most terrifying people on the planet; the Medic.

That was why he had never once tried to fix his problem. When he came to his mother about it as a boy, she had told him that he had an overactive imagination, and that his mind was playing tricks on him. Objectively true, but unhelpful statements, as he would come to realize. The Engineer pushed aside the disheveled covers of his bed and stood to use the restroom. He might as well. He knew he would be up for at least another thirty minutes.

He could feel the eyes on him as he used the toilet, boring holes into his unprotected back. It would be so easy for them to dispatch him. He was so vulnerable. He didn’t even have a gun, or a second forearm for that matter. He finished his business as fast as he could and looked behind him, but there was no one there. He still felt that terrible feeling, though, and he backed against the wall, looking frantically to his sides, but he saw no one. Why was he surprised?

He walked briskly back to his bed, because that feeling persisted. As long as it did, all of his normally extremely logical thinking went out the window, replaced with an almost primal instinct that screamed at him to run from something that wasn’t even there.

These nights always undid years of repression he had worked so hard to build up. Memories and questions that he had drowned under a sea of accomplishment and mountains of work reared their ugly heads and taunted him while he yearned for sleep that they would hold just out of his reach.

What are you going to do after this, Dell? Why are you even here? A familiar voice hissed in his ear. He didn’t know. He felt like his skills were being misused here, which he was probably right about. He could be using his skills to revolutionize the world, and instead he was using it to fight over a useless patch of land that wouldn’t be relevant once those two old fucks died off, as they should have long ago, and he would have wasted however many years he had spent here for nothing.

Why should you have to work with these incompetent freaks? They’re just slowing you down. Some days, he just wanted to lock himself in his workshop and never come out (not that he didn’t do that most days anyway) so he could avoid interacting with the over-the-top Soldier, or the absolutely insane Medic, or even Pyro for that matter. All of the mercenaries, except for maybe the Spy and the Heavy at times, were far too over-the-top for him. Socializing tired him even when he wasn’t doing it with eight mercenaries, each with varying degrees of insanity.

As if you aren’t just as insane as they are. He would like to think of himself as a little more sane than most of his coworkers, but he knew that behind the mask of southern charm and an easygoing attitude, he was just as unhinged, if not more so, than they were. He was very good at hiding things from the outside world, though. He’d had plenty of practice.

What if your mother could see you know? What would she say, Dell? Oh god, what would she say? She’d always had dreams of success for her son, maybe even more than himself, at least when he was younger. But even more so than that, she wanted happiness for him. She’d been worried when he hadn’t gotten married, or even had a girlfriend, by the time he was thirty, she’d gotten worried when he worked himself to the point of exhaustion as a teenager, but she worried the most when he stopped talking to her other than shallow conversations that he deliberately worded to try and make sure that she didn’t get worried. Ironic.

He wished that he had talked to her while he had the chance. He curled up further into his sheets, blinking to try and prevent salty tears from escaping from his eyes, even though no one was around to see them. All she wanted was honesty from him, and he couldn’t even give that to her before she had been taken by those tumors in her breasts. Why couldn’t she have wanted something else from him?

He’d had plenty of regrets over the years, but that was the one that had stuck with him, following him around like a shadow, for the longest time. It weighed the heaviest on his chest. And there wasn’t a single thing he could do to make it right. It was a problem that he couldn’t fix. So he had buried it.

But on these nights, they would dig themselves out of their graves, and there was nothing he could do except let them eat away at him until he was so exhausted from sobbing that he would fall asleep again.

He was getting to that point now. He felt something wet begin to trail down his cheek, and his vision blurred as his eyes overflowed with tears. He buried his face into a blanket and sighed shakily.

He fell asleep thinking of his mother, and dreamed of nothing. He spent the night burying his demons again, knowing that they would come back to hurt him sometime soon, but being too tired to get rid of them for good.

He felt better the next day, but he wasn't.

[tenebraevesper]

Hey Ten! I wanted to ask you something, but first, let me just say I love your stuff. I just finished Game Over (Talk about being late to the party) and I noticed you kept alluding to a "new" fic including sister location, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I wanted to ask what happened to it ( if you do not mind of course) and also what ever happened to Requiem? Keep it up, love the amazing work!

First of all, thank you so much for taking time to reading through my fanfic. Truth to be told, I had started writing those stories, but I ended up deleting them because I didn't feel like continuing them and wanted to attempt something new.

That new story is a tetralogy titled Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story, and is divided in the following stories that are to be read in this order:

Five Nights at Freddy's: Masterpiece

Who are we, Henry? Do you understand what we have created? What I have created? There are so many questions that need to be answered, old friend. However, unlike you, I am not afraid of the consequences of my choices.

Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged

Even after escaping Hell, William is still haunted by his past. Back as Springtrap, he's forced to confront his past self, accepting either atonement or annihilation. To his surprise, he gains unexpected assistance from Sam, who is investigating the rumors surrounding the new Fazbear location…

Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains

William Afton, as Springtrap, is enjoying his life as Sam's best friend and father figure. However, as they explore the recently opened Freddy's location, not only are the ghost of his past preventing him from finding redemption, but are also seeking complete annihilation of his mind and soul, until nothing has remained of him…

Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete

This was his final performance and he knew that he wouldn't return. Still, the glitch he had created remained, forcing William Afton, alias Springtrap, to confront what he had left behind. Even Sam is troubled by his return, aware that, beside her, there is another person who decided to carry on his murderous legacy…

The latest story, Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete, is still being worked on. I have placed the links for each story in the titles, so all you have to do is click on them. Since I'm working on a fanfic titled Sonic Cyber Revolution, the updates for the FNaF story are irregular, but let me assure you, it is ongoing and not abandoned/on a hiatus.

Hope you'll enjoy it! Leave a review to let me know! X3

[queen--kenobi]

POV, for the ask game

Send me "POV" and I'll write a scene from one of my fics/wips in another character's POV.

Have some Dear Elayna!

It's the day before Elayna's 18 birthday.

Tyland only knows this because Tymon has been obsessively going over the plan for tonight and tomorrow. Truth be told, if Tyland hears Elayna's name or sees it written in Tymon's handwriting one more time, he...

Well. He doesn't know what he'll do, but he knows it will be something to make Tymon furious. He could get away with it too.

Despite being blood, Tymon still sees Tyland as boring and bland, not the type of man to seize what he wants and take it for himself. If only Tymon knew. If only anyone knew. The list of people who know Tyland's true nature is small. He prefers to keep it that way.

It's much easier for him to get what he wants.

If he were brash or openly cunning, he would be met with opposition every time he did anything. He doesn't necessarily want people to underestimate him either. His pride can only take so much. Besides. If he purposefully made people underestimate him, they would watch him closely when he began to get what he wanted. No. Safe to play boring and average intelligence, the sort of man who can get lucky through persistence and hard work.

"You've got the reservations, right?" Tymon lounges on one of the chairs in Tyland's study. The only sign of his impatience is his insistent tapping of his fingers on his thighs. The two agreed Tymon would hide in Tyland's house until it was dark. No use spooking Elayna. If she saw Tymon during the day, no doubt she would run again in the night.

Tymon initially wanted to go see Elayna during the day. He didn't seem to understand why Elayna would bolt. Tyland thought about it but decided against it. If Aemond Targaryen weren't involved, Tyland would have. Where would have Elayna gone but to him? She would have had nowhere to run.

Now, she had Aemond to run to when things turned with Tymon. Why would she come to Tyland?

Aemond complicated things. Nevertheless, Tyland could work with things. He was flexible.

"I have the reservations." Tyland dips his head. "One o'clock."

He neglects to mention they're for the wrong restaurant. It would be easy enough to cover his tracks. The place was always full. Besides, he can play the card Elayna would be more comfortable and receptive in a different place. Worst comes to worst, he can always play the bumbling idiot who got things confused.

Tymon sighs. He gets up and begins pacing.

"I need everything to go perfectly." He begins on his tirade that's almost a mantra. "I need it to be the proposal every girl has dreamed of. I need her to see the kind of life she can have! She can't say no, not if it's picture perfect. Not that she will. She knows only I can protect her. Only I can take care of her. Only I can satisfy every little thing she needs. Only I love her."

Tyland bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to vomit. Instead, he lets Tymon rant and rave. His quill scratches against the paper. Otto wants Tyland to calculate assets and money. No doubt he's testing him, seeing if Tyland would be a better fit to manage finances. Things were beginning to come together on multiple fronts.

"Have I shown you the engagement gift I had made?" Tymon suddenly stops.

"I don't think you have."

"It's perfect." Tymon reaches into his pocket to produce a velvet box. Tyland holds out his hand to take it. Tymon stares at him. Tyland raises an eyebrow.

"I don't want you to touch it. I don't want anything on it."

Tyland levels his brother with a look.

"I won't touch it."

Tymon carefully opens the box. A hair comb rests inside of it. The gold glimmers. The rubies and pearls shine. It's beautiful, a masterpiece. It's almost a shame Elayna will hate it.

"It's nice. It must have cost a pretty penny."

"I have to show her what I can give her. She's going to be my wife. She has to look the part." Tymon closes the box and places it in his pocket once more. "I have her dress already planned out. Silk and pearls with gold. She'll look perfect. She has to."

"I'm sure it will be beautiful."

Silk and pearls and gold? It sounds almost gaudy to Tyland.

Tymon seems content with that answer. He looks towards the clock. It's still early in the afternoon. He fidgets.

"Myrtle should have made lunch by now. Would you like to check on her progress?"

Tymon nods.

"Yeah. I'll go check."

Tyland nearly sighs and sags with relief once Tymon has left. He shakes his head. A dull throbbing begins in his temples. As quietly as he can, Tyland opens a side drawer. A nearly identical box to Tymon's lays inside. Carefully, Tyland opens it. The gold haircomb rests in the box. Rubies decorate it as well but more sparingly. The designs in the gold are more the centerpiece, a lion on each side. Elegant and beautiful without drawing too much attention to itself. Tyland hums and shuts the box.

Patience. Tymon will fuck everything up in due time, and Tyland can swoop in for the kill, playing the part of apologetic older brother trying to make up for his younger brother's mistakes. An ordinary way to start a friendship and from there, a relationship. Nothing to question and no reason for Elayna to run.

Lunch goes about as badly as Tyland predicted. He almost couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. From the moment Elayna came outside, she nearly clung to him. Tymon's irritation rolled off him in massive waves, which only served to press Elayna closer to Tyland.

He scares her.

Tyland knows that will be a problem. Tymon no doubt won't give up, even if Elayna marries another. Tyland will need to find a way to placate his younger brother. He also knows it will work in his favor. He can see the results even now. Elayna will run to him for comfort and protection only he can provide, and he will do so willingly.

Things spiral quickly once they're seated. Even before the appetizers reach them, Tymon pulls out the box and pushes it on Elayna. Initially, Elayna resists graciously, but her irritation becomes clear.

"Tymon." Tyland clears his throat. "Perhaps now isn't the best time for gifts."

Tymon looks as if he wants to murder him right then and there. Thankfully, Aemond's arrival and invitation to family dinner distracts Tymon enough he doesn't try to make too much of a scene. At least, not on that front.

When they leave, Tyland quietly places a reassuring hand on Elayna’s back. It's a fleeting touch but long enough to get Elayna to look at him. Tymon, surprisingly, doesn't notice. He's too busy trying to light his pipe, standing back by a pole. His hands shake with barely contained rage.

Tyland dips his head. Elayna smiles.

"Thank you." She whispers. "For trying to stop him."

"I wish I could have done more." Regret colors his tone. "He was a bit of an embarassment. I hope he didn't ruin your birthday."

"A little."

"Let me make it up to you. A proper lunch."

"I'd like that."

"You'd like what?" Tymon's tone is clipped, anger lurking underneath it.

"Tyland offered to pay for a train ticket home if I wanted to see my dad." The lie falls easily from Elayna's lips. Tymon blinks. Tyland keeps his face passive, but something inside him stirs.

He knew. He knew she was like him.

Yes, she'd make a fine wife.

[matchibee]

"The very heavens that gifted your eyes the stars so that he could gaze into them, and the very lands that breathed life beneath your skin so that his hands might have something to hold. Sometimes, he felt the universe taunted him with your very existence, there but not his, an embodiment of perfection someone as flawed as him did not deserve." Whenever I think you release your best piece of writing, here you come proving me wrong by sharing this masterpiece!! No one writes Miguel as wonderfully as you <3

thank you!!! truth be told i’ve had that written in my notes app for a minute just hoping to put it into a fic and there it was!!

Thank you for your kind words!! stuff like that makes me so happy to write for you wonderful wonderful people!! i’m glad you’re enjoying, and feel free to request anytime you lovely person <3

[adonis-koo]

I'm so in love with chapter 15! Wicked has really become one of my favorites and ifjei I have so much to say about it! It's just fricking great you have no idea 😭

I love all those emotions you put in there! Their personalities feel so real. Hot headed prince and the gentle, but very emotional Mc. I understand both sides on that one conflict at the end. Jk had to do what he did. He grew up way different. He had to face the cruel world at a very young age. Penumbra isn't like Enoia. It's pure chaos. Either you protect yourself by building a wall over your heart or you go down. I get why he mistrusted her for a bit. It's for safety. Doesn't make the truth any less painful and right. He's definitely in the wrong and i hope he gets on his knees. Tho I must also say that the Mc isn't all innocent as well. She completely went behind his back and went to the underside and disregarded his feelings. Calling him a lair and all. She's so hurt and emotional by everything he said and didn't say that she is also the one who hurt him in the progress. It may not be on purpose, but she did. It confused me for a second, because she was known for being gentle and understanding, but in that moment she didn't understand him at all. She didn't even try where he was coming from. The feeling of pain was so overwhelming that she disregarded his feelings, called him a lair and basically went behind his back for no reason.

It was reckless for her to go to the underside, especially without letting anyone know. It makes me so impossibly angry that she thinks she's the only one hurt, because Wheein is in prison. As if Jk hasn't got any feelings at all. He even was all tired because of all the work he had to do, not only political matters, but also the thing with wheein. He fell asleep and she ran away. He was worried sick, because she wasn't there. He may not be good with words, but his actions speak them all. He cares and for her to just say his feelings are insincere, makes me so upset. Especially because HE was the one getting angry when she said her life basically didn't matter. It speaks volumes. She's not a victim, she's also at fault. Both of them are. I hope she apologizes to him as well. He started that whole thing and she continued. I hope they can resolve the issue and understand each other better. :(

The whole thing feels so real and I'm so impressed how much character you put into this fic. I'm so in love with it! Thank you thank you thank you. It's a masterpiece and I hope you know it. ^-^

(sorry if I wrote the name of the countries wrong, I couldn't remember how it was spelled. I'm no professional english speaker as well so, I'll apologize for every mistake that's in these paragraphs too 🥺)

First of all I can’t thank you enough for your thoughts on this chapter!! I LOVE deep diving into situations and characters. You have so many valid points about Jungkook and MC! However I’d like to impart a little bit of my thoughts on the writing process in hopes of easing the blow a little.

There are a few big overarching themes in this series, one being duality and the other being not everything is as it seems; don’t believe everything you hear.

While Jungkook had to face the cruel world at a very young age, so did MC, they are two sides to the same coin in this series, both on opposite teams of a war but still suffering trauma from it. MC has been vocal about it, if this chapter as told us anything lol, but Jungkook doesn’t bare his heart that easily, we will eventually get to hear his side of the five year war, as it most certainly affected him (being a child soldier). But the big thing I wanted to set up here was that that not everything is as it seems.

Eunoia is first set up as a Kingdom centered around nature and peace, giving and expecting nothing in return. A divine and sacred space. But as the series has continued, it��s revealed that it’s only been this way for a very short moment in time. They have an immeasurable amount of blood on their hands and sins on their shoulders as they used to be cannibals. I haven’t strictly used the word in the story but it’s heavily alluded too when the word ‘devour’ is used. Penumbra is called heathenistic nation in the beginning but as it turns out, they hardly are.

Eunoia however, cannot say the same. Duality again plays a big role in the story, while MC is supposed to be a gentle, understanding person (and she is!) she is still human. And she is more times then less, very stubborn and headstrong and she is incredibly temperamental in moments and hot headed herself. It states in the chapter that ‘it’s known by her family that she’s always had a temper’ this was a set up and both acknowledgement from her, and while she is reckless, she’s not above admitting that she is. In fact there’s actually a scene in chapter 16 of her talking about her innocence being non existent (which makes me sad in the sense that I can’t talk about this in further detail because it’s not out)

I think the biggest thing to understand is that MC does not parade around like a victim intentionally, she does however talk about her pain and her tribulations a lot, she’s been through much and she can’t stand it when someone tries to undermine it, when someone tries to say that she’s had an easy life because she’s from Eunoia, it may come across as victim playing but she doesn’t mean it as such, and if someone were to say it (because let’s be real it’s bound to happen soon), she’ll immediately rein it in. This isn’t to say she’s in the right in any way possibly, I’m only giving some perspective on where she’s coming from!

Jungkook however is both similar and yet different from her, he’s titled the wicked prince and yet there’s a certain softness about him that I wanted to incorporate, he’s very understanding and forgiving to those he loved despite everything he’s endured, he isn’t an aggressive or hot headed person by nature, it’s been trained into him at a young age but it’s still not something that comes easy to him.

I suppose what I’m trying to say, is that Jungkook and MC and both deeply flawed and complex people, the stereotype traits that they were supposed to have, ended up being what the other actually embodies deep down (a soft prince and head strong Princess among other traits). Not only that but they still embody the empathic Princess and cold prince. They are all of these traits above and yet they utilize them in different ways, they are both very different , they come from different upbringings, different kingdoms, different beliefs and yet they are almost the same.

The biggest takeaway from this story morally is to never believe what you hear until you experience it for yourself. Because you might find that Penumbra isn’t nearly as horrendous and heathanistic as they all said it was, but you might discover along the way the grotesque history of Eunoia.

Once again I can’t thank you enough for your thoughts on this chapter! I didn’t mean to ramble so long but I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity to touch on this before so I wanted to take it while I had that chance! 🫶🖤

[seeyoulikeair]

So, here’s a slice, under the cut, from my never being fully published anywhere Seaquest fic called “Something Really Stupid”. I thought it wouldn’t amount to anything significant, but it became a 172 page “masterpiece” to 19 year old me. Looking back upon it, there are some major moral/illegal aspects that 19 year old me thought was fine -but they really aren’t hence why in the big scope of things, it’ll never be published from start to finish. 

So have a fake dating, love “triangle” Tony X OC X Lucas little slice.  

He opened the front door and there she was lying on the deck. The sound of the doors’ function didn’t even faze her. She looked peaceful but he knew it was just an act. Up and down, rise and fall, went her chest as he stared at her. Disturbing her was something he wanted to avoid.

An hour went by. They still hadn’t moved. He was leaning against the door while she stayed on the floor. It was like she didn’t acknowledge his existence.

“You alive?”

“Yup.” She said it slow enough that the ‘P’ popped.

He made his way over and lay down next to her. He clasped his hands together and rested them on his stomach. Holding her hand was what he wanted but since her hands were behind her head, that wasn’t possible. Worry set in as he wondered if plans were going to change yet again. Things weren’t working out for the two of them –especially her.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

She let out a long heavy sigh. Tears didn’t fall; she did enough of that when she was alone. “I told my dad that Lucas didn’t know about the baby until after the fact.”

“Must’ve been hard.” He thought it was something much worse –like the triangle.

“He just wouldn’t shut up about it, you know. He kept going on and on about what we planned on doing with it –where to live, how to get money and the like. I just cracked.”

“Moving forward sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does going back.” She turned her head to look at him, his eyes staring at the ceiling. A few seconds passed before he shifted his eyes. His head turned and gave her a subtle smile. “Want to know what the worst part is? That wasn’t even the worst part of the day.”

That struck him as curious. She hated telling her dad the truth, well about her current situation. If that wasn’t the worst part, he had no idea what to expect.

“If Lucas did anything…”

She sat up as she spoke. “We finally had the discussion that I’ve wanted to have. Our feelings for each other are crystal clear. I feel terrible because it reminded me of when you left in the cab, except I was you.”

“So is this…charade still going on then?”

“He said he’d continue it as long as he has to.” He was hoping for a no. Kissing her, touching her body again, was always on his mind. Having not been able to do any of those had been killing him. “I’m glad that I told him I just…didn’t want it to happen like this. I wanted a plan, but I should’ve known better seeing as every plan I’ve tried recently has screwed me over.”

For some strange reason he felt sorry for her. It made him feel like he felt bad for Lucas but he didn’t. Lucas had had this talk coming for a long time now. He was now even with him. Everything Lucas had done over the past month and a half was finally paid for. A smile was growing and he had to force himself not to; she needed consoling.

“Sorry Babe,” he said as he sat up. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her for a hug. Her arms went up his back, hands resting on his shoulders. “Maybe laying everything out with him will make things easier.”

Could it, she asked herself. Ever since she tried, and failed, to tell him the first time things had taken a turn for the worse. Maybe telling him wasn’t so bad after all.  A thought then popped into her head; if he didn’t give up loving her before would this time be any different. He always reminded her that he was still in love with her and that he would always be. Why were guys so confusing?

“I hope you’re right,” she finally managed to say. “Most likely, things between the three of us won’t change. He still loves me and tells me that he’s probably never going to stop.”

She slipped out from his grasp and sat in front of him, leaning back. Leave popped into her mind and she wished they could relive it. Her dream was interrupted when he spoke. “Does that kid grasp the meaning of ‘moving on’? He is a genius isn’t he, or is that all just a cover.”

She let out a laugh. She hadn’t laughed for a while and it felt wonderful. “He’s afraid to move on because he fears that if he does, I’ll either realize that I still love him or we’ll be through.”

“He just needs to take a chance and hope for the best. I mean, he’s not going to stay single until either of you pass; that’s just crazy. Someone is gonna come along and he’ll fall in love.”

“Hard to find someone when you’re stuck on a ship out at sea for the majority of the year.”

“Well you did.”

She looked up at him. “I was lucky. You came to me.”

He chuckled as her head moved back, facing forward. “Yeah, but I had to wait. He’s just gonna have to do the same. So about leave…”

“I’m not sure,” she said with uncertainty. “My unintentional plans with Lucas have sort of got things a bit frazzled. If I still wait a few days after our ‘break up’ then the line before will be true.”

“Are you really going to try?” He sounded unhappy at the thought of them being close.

She sighed. “I miss him as a friend. Before you came along, it was like we were brother and sister.” He winced, making a gagging noise in the process. She hit his leg. “You’re gross. Our relationship was like the ones in the movies where the next door neighbor boy falls in love with the new girl. You start out as friends but eventually make it more, sometimes because you actually have feelings for each other or because you feel like you owe it to yourself to give it a shot. We went from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend to a vicious backstab betrayal to a fake relationship. Somewhere we lost the friend portion and I want it back.”

“Hey, I miss my friendship with him too but I know it’s never going to go back to the way it was. I’m with the love of his life –who happens to be the most beautiful girl on this ship, and my girlfriend. Even if we ever did break up, there would be no chance at getting our friendship back. We’d still be in competition over you. You just gotta find someone else.”

“Like how you have Brody?”

“Eh, I guess. I tell him one story and ever since, he starts talking to me on the bridge or in the hall.”

“Face it; you’ve got a friendship with him.”

She was smiling and even though she wasn’t facing him, he could tell. It radiated off her like the beams of the sun. “We’ll just go with the plan and wait a couple extra days. Maybe before leave you’ll be swimming.”

“Really?” Her head was up again, staring at him. She really wanted to be able to swim, despite her fear of drowning.

He chuckled again. “But I’m not making any promises. It takes hard work.”

She spun around and kissed him. God was she ever thankful for the events of today. Without them, she wouldn’t have had this enjoyment from their talk. Even though they didn’t kiss that long ago, it felt like a lifetime.

He pulled her down to the floor, their sides touching the cool deck. Going too far was out of the question, he knew that. All he wanted was to kiss her and then hold her until he was forced to let go. His hands kept trailing off, tracing her curves with his fingertips, grabbing the hems of her clothes, wishing for more. Unlike the other times, he had control over his urges.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as she set her head down near his. Her body was pressed against his, her back against his chest. He put an arm around her and she grabbed that hand with one of her own. Gripping it tight, she closed her eyes.

“I love you too Tony.”

Silence ensued as he waited to speak again. “Wish we could stay here all night.”

“Me too. I would guess we’ve got about an hour before Bridger comes to check on me.”

“Guess I’ll jump into the pool when the time comes.” He waited to speak again. “Do you ever think about the future?”

“I think about when I’m getting out of here –that’s in the future.”

He laughed. “Nah, I mean like way away, like ten years in the future.”

She paused to think about it. “Not really. I think about having kids and a big house but that’s about it. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Do you think about it?” Her eyebrows were raised in interest.

“I’m 22; of course I think about it.”

“What do you think about?”

“Uh, nah, you’d think it’s stupid.”

Rolling over, she gave him a light shove. “And you don’t think my lack of future plans is stupid?”

“Alright,” he said with a grin. It faded as soon as he spoke. “I think about a big house overlooking the ocean. There’s kids without gills runnin’ around, bringing me arrest warrants to hang on the Christmas tree.” He chuckled at the mention of the family tradition. “And I see you.”

She propped herself up, staring in awe. “See me where?” she joked.

“With me.” Her lips met his. When she pulled away, she left her face inches from his. Her eyes were filled with doubt. “I really do. If you could read my mind, all you’d hear is you.”

Her back hit the floor, eyes fixated on a section of the ceiling. The thought of his dreams excited her, yet they scared her. Since her present was so messed up, she never really thought of a future. She wanted to know how the current situation was going to end before making any permanent plans.

“That’s not a stupid dream at all. At least you have one.”

He lay down next to her again, looking up at the ceiling too. “You’ll have one.”

“I used to have one.” Her tone changed to a saddened one. “Before coming here, after my mom died, I wanted to be a teacher. Then I came here, finished home school, and now I haven’t got a clue as to what I want to do.”

“One day you’ll know.” He turned and kissed the side of her head. “You’ve still got time –a lot of time, being stuck here on this ship.”

Silence hit once again. She turned and looked at him skeptically. “Gill-less kids?” She held back a laugh as he turned and looked at her. He smiled, laughing in the process. She followed his lead, letting it escape her mouth. “They could end up like me, a swimming hazard.”

“When I volunteered I never asked for the extra info like genetics and the like. I just wanted to get the hell out of the brig.”

“Shouldn’t matter though. You’d love any kid you got.”

“Hold that thought.” He got up and jumped into the pool. She knew what was going on.

The door creaked open and close. Bridger walked over to the deck and looked at her. She seemed better but the sadness was still there. “Mind if I sit down?”

“No.” He took a seat. “Sorry about earlier.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She looked through the grated deck. Tony was looking up at them. Sighing, she looked back at Bridger. “I’m just an emotional mess right now and I’d rather just forget it, ya know.”

“I have a feeling you and Lucas had a long talk after I left.”

“Yeah,” she said with disappointment. “He’s not talking to me right now.”

He put an arm around her and started to rub her back, trying to be consoling. “He’ll come around; give him time. It’s tough hearing the truth.”

If only he knew, she told herself. Bridger finding out the truth would blow his head off. It wasn’t just a simple lie she had been telling; it was one that could sink the seven continents. He would question everything she’s ever told him. Their relationship that was already fading would be gone if he knew the truth.

Bridger sighed and started to get up. “I take it you’re going to stay in here with Darwin all night?”

She nodded her head. “I want someone to stay in here. I tend to do crazy things in my sleep when people are hurt.”

“I’ll send Brody down.” He headed for the deck door but turned back around. “Have you seen Piccolo recently?”

“No, why?”

“If you see him, tell him to come find me. I’ve got something for him.”

“Will do.” He walked away from the door and wrapped her in a hug. “I love you dad.”

“I love you too.”

As soon as the door clanged, Tony surfaced. He pulled himself onto the deck and looked at her. He was pissed. She had no idea if it was from the conversation she had with Bridger or if he read his mind and knew what he had planned. Her guess was the latter of the two. She handed him a robe.

“I can’t believe it!”

“What?” she asked in complete darkness.

“I’ve got night duty for the next two months. He’s nuts if he thinks I’m going to go through with it…”

“Tony.”

He ignored her. “I mean, I could get a week or a day but two months!”

“Tony!” He looked at her. Very rarely did she shout at him. “You’ll be gone in a week and won’t be back for eleven days.”

A lopsided smile grew on his face. Grabbing the sides of her face, he pressed his lips against hers. He let them part, letting his tongue explore. She started to giggle and he abandoned the mission.

“What?”

She looked at him, her hand running through the hair on the back of his head. “Nothing. I just…I wish this was something that would stay forever. Kissing Lucas is nothing compared to this.”

[esta-elavaris]

Hi! I recently discovered “Catch the Wind” and I absolutely love it, it’s such a masterpiece, thanks for creating it.

I saw that you’re open for one-shot requests for that universe and I had a thought for a bit of an AU scenario: what if Theodora had been discovered by Elizabeth instead of James and his crew? Maybe she appeared on the beach instead of at sea, and told Elizabeth some version of her story that convinced her to take her in, and Elizabeth was only too happy to help her fabricate a story to fit in with Port Royal society, because at this stage in her life she’s so DONE with her lot in life as a society woman and is craving any sort of adventure, and sees Theo as a sort of exciting project but also a potential friend). What happens if as a result of this, Theo went to live with Elizabeth at the Governor’s home instead of with James? How would that have affected James and Theo’s opinions of one another upon meeting, and the development of their relationship, particularly their early days pining?

I would imagine it would make it harder for the couple to get to know each other and thus to fall in love (yay more angst!), but I have faith that they would have found their way to one another anyways. I love when you write Theo’s and Elizabeth’s friendship, especially in the early days. It’s so pure, like neither can help becoming friends, so I think we’d get to see more of that in this proposed AU. I also think it would be really interesting to read your take on Theo’s feelings regarding Elizabeth’s general apathy and dismissive attitude towards James as a potential husband, which I imagine she’s notice more if they lived together, or to read about Elizabeth’s realisation of Theo’s and James’ reciprocal feelings for one another while they remain oblivious (I’d imagine she’d notice earlier on as well if they were closer, the way Hattie or even Groves did).

Anyway, sorry for the long ask, and thanks again for your wonderful story! If you decide to take this request on, thank you so much in advance, I’ll be so excited to read it! In the meantime, here’s a nice gif of our darling man giving us a smile, look at that cutie pie

Ooooh I’m losing my mind over this AU (and over the word masterpiece being thrown around, don’t do that to me hhhh). The thing is, it was so important to me to have Theo staying with James in the original story because I was pretty sure that was the only way he’d ever notice a woman who wasn’t Elizabeth - she’d have to be THAT much under his nose, and even then it would be an uphill battle. I think you’re right - Elizabeth would have to be in on it somehow, trying to push them together behind the scenes. I think she’d have her own motivations to do that, anyway, considering she admits in the first movie that she suspected he’d proposed, and it’s clear she’s not interested, so she’d probably consider it best for everybody if he and Theo ended up together.

I’ll see what I can do! I’ve got history with writing full blown AU fics of my own damn fics, but I can’t take something that extensive on right now, and this one would probably actually end up merging with how the original fic goes after the end of the first movie in terms of her having to make sure he ends up in Tortuga and then telling him the truth there and so on. It’s definitely something I’m interested in attempting, I’m already getting withdrawals as far as writing Theo and James is concerned, and while there’s definitely enough here for a multi-chapter arc, it would definitely have to be just a “highlight” reel sort of thing where I write the most interesting parts, otherwise it could end up being 40+ chapters far too easily. I’ll start throwing some scenes together and keep you posted! Thanks for the idea!

But YEAH, thank you so much! I’m glad you like what I did with Theo and Elizabeth’s friendship — one of the very first decisions I made going in was that they’d have to be friends, because I didn’t like the idea of creating an OC who is immediately at odds with one of the very few prominent ladies in the trilogy (if I keep calling it a trilogy enough, movies 4 and 5 will vanish, it’s science). If Elizabeth was actually interested in James at all, it would’ve been different, but she wasn’t so it just felt sort of needless? There was enough angst material in there already without Theo pinning all of the blame on Elizabeth as far as the first movie stuff is concerned.

And I won’t even get into how many times I watched that gif. It’s a sickness, I swear. Apparently 19 months//400k words of writing isn’t enough to get our lad out of my system.