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Some spideys

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clingy rumi

inspired loosely by this post!

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Kpop Demon Hunters has taught me that you can over come your demons (literal and figuratively) with the power of polyamory.

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a little bit 🚬😆

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Maria Hagan is making a grocery list when she hears the front door open, slam shut, and then feet running up the stairs.

She thinks nothing of it.

Her boys are in and out of the house all day and she has long given up on getting them to close a door gently. She is making a note on whose cereal they’re low on when Tommy runs into the room, “Mom!”

“Sweetie?”

“Steve’s here,” Tommy breathes out. “He’s here and he won’t talk to me! I didn’t do anything!”

Maria frowns, “Is he hurt?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay, okay,” Maria placates, starving off a meltdown by giving her kindergartener the task of counting their canned vegetables. “I’ll check on him.”

When she goes into Tommy’s room, it appears empty.

She sits on the floor next to the bed and placed her hand on the carpet with her palm facing up. A tiny hand slithers out from under the bed and holds it. She smiles, “It’s gonna be pretty hard to give you a hug when you’re under there, sweetheart.”

Silence.

She frowns. That typically works.

“Stevie, squeeze my hand once for no, twice for yes,” She instructs. “Are you hurt?”

One squeeze.

“Are you sad?”

Two squeezes.

She can work with that, “Can you tell me why?”

The hand disappears back under the bed, slithering back out to drop something in her hand. She looks at it and then smiles, “You lost a tooth! Congrad-“

“No!” Steve snaps, voice wet and cracking. “Im ugly now!”

“You’re not ugly, Steve.”

“Yes, I am!” Steve snaps at her. “No one is gonna want to be my friend no more ‘cause I- I’m ugly!”

“Hey, Stevie,” She says in a voice that gives him little room to argue. “Let’s get out from under there, okay?”

Steve climbs out from under the bed, red-faced and dusty. His lips pressed together and his eyes dry. It always disturbs Maria when a kid this young knows how to suppress their emotions.

She opens her arms and Steve falls onto them, clinging to her tightly as she assures, “Losing your baby teeth doesn’t make you ugly, baby. It’s normal for a kid your age to lose them.”

“But I brush mine.”

“Your tooth didn’t fall out because you don’t brush,” She tells him. “It fell out because you’re getting bigger. Those are baby teeth. They have to fall out so you can get grown up teeth.”

Steve pulls back and stares at her. She sees the barest hint of what tooth he lost when he exclaims, “I can’t stop it?!”

“Sorry, Steve-“

“Mama is never gonna buy my school pictures again!”

She would laugh if she didn’t think it’d piss him off and tells him that if his mom doesn’t buy his school pictures, she will. But more importantly, “Have you heard of the tooth fairy?”

“She’s a thief,” Steve nods. “She stole Tommy’s tooth.”

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ao3

Steve can’t really blame Robin for forgetting her trumpet: they’ve been chatting the whole ride to school like normal, and Spring Break is fast approaching, excitement in the air—so infectious that Steve feels it too, like he’s still at school, like Robin’s anticipation is partly his own.

They barely stop talking for long enough to draw breath; it’s a surprise to them both when Hawkins High comes into view, and Robin has to take her seatbelt off in a hurry, climbing out and rushing through, “So yeah, I’ll keep you updated and—yeah, yeah, my work stuff’s in my bag, okay, see you later, loveyoubye!”

Steve realises the trumpet is still in the backseat as he’s pulling out of the parking lot. He stops, honks his horn, but it’s too late: Robin must’ve already gone inside. Several students look over at the noise, but no-one Steve really knows; Claudia is dropping Dustin off today, but he can’t see any trace of him, otherwise he would’ve…

He does another quick scan—spots one familiar face at the last second.

Yeah, he thinks, you’ll do.

He twists in his seat to pick up the trumpet case and opens the passenger door.

“Hey, Munson!” Eddie’s a couple feet away; it seems like he’s kicked the habit of hardly ever showing up to homeroom. He just looks at Steve, like he’s faintly baffled, so Steve feels the need to tack on, “It’s Steve. Steve Harrington?”

That does the trick: Eddie shakes his head as if Steve’s just said something completely pointless.

“Yeah, no shit.” He heads over to Steve’s car and cocks his head at the case. “Are you trying to uh, trade? I’m cash only, Harrington.”

“Ha ha,” Steve says flatly. “No, it’s—you know Robin, right? She’s in your year.” At Eddie’s blank look, he adds, “Robin Buckley,” trying not to sound judgemental. It’s just now that he knows her, he can’t imagine how it’s possible for anyone to not know her. It’s Robin.

Eddie glances at the case again; the penny must drop, because he says, “Oh. Yeah, duh, she’s the one in band? Fluent in, like, everything?”

Steve smiles. “That’s her.” He hands the case over. “Thanks, man, she’s gonna freak when she realises she doesn’t have it. They’re practicing for the game, so—”

“Swiftest of deliveries, got it,” Eddie says, and he actually manages a little salute while holding the trumpet case.

Steve almost laughs.

He doesn’t think any more on the exchange until he’s picking Robin up again. He’s temporarily locked Family Video—what Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Thank God he’s out of town for Spring Break; Steve’s counting down the days. A whole week of just him and Robin, and whatever movies they want to throw on and enthuse about. He’s already picked out his choices, though he still needs to check if the store has them or if he should go through the tapes he’s got at home.

He brings out a notepad from the glovebox and scrawls a reminder to do just that before he sees Robin walking out of school, trumpet case swinging by her side.

She spots his car without him needing to use the horn—claps her free hand to her forehead, and he shakes his head, smiling. It’s a gesture they keep doing at each other, especially when making mistakes at work, getting more and more stupidly exaggerated each time. Then she switches to a thumbs up which Steve returns enthusiastically with both hands, as she opens the door to the backseat and puts the case back inside the car.

“Glad the delivery was successful,” he says, craning his neck to try and meet her eye.

“Yeah, it—” The clunk of the door being shut, soon followed by Robin opening the passenger door and sliding in, still talking, “—was all good, I just, um—ooh, you have gum in here! Great, thanks—what was I—? Oh yeah, I think I confused him?”

“You confused him?” Steve echoes with amusement: an incontrovertible fact of Hawkins High is Eddie Munson’s talent for confusing other people.

“I didn’t mean to! It’s just—okay so, he showed up, like, ten minutes into first period, but you know how Taylor’s stressing about the pronunciation of—basically Rebecca said fam-eel instead of fam-ee—”

“Quelle horreur,” Steve interjects wryly.

Robin snorts, then nods in approval. “Très bien, see, you sound great! But, like, poor Rebecca, she lost her shit—Miss Taylor, I mean, though Rebecca was—anyway, the point is Taylor’s so incredibly strict about talking in French the whole time. I mean, the whole time.”

“The whole time, got it,” Steve says as he reverses out the parking lot. “Wait, the whole time? What if—”

“Whatever you’re about to say, I guarantee you Taylor doesn’t care. Unless someone’s actually dying, and even then—”

“Okay, but what if there’s—like, what if someone’s gotta get pulled out of class—”

“No-one interrupts Miss Taylor,” Robin says gravely. “No-one has dared try.”

Steve starts to grin. “I see where this is—”

“So, Eddie Munson—Taylor always shuts the door but I see him coming, and he’s, like, looking through the window, and I’m trying to wave without being obvious about it so Taylor doesn’t murder me, and I guess I don’t do it great ‘cause he’s looking at me like…”

There’s a pause. Steve huffs a laugh, knowing that Robin’s probably doing a not all that faithful interpretation of what Eddie looked like.

“Rob,” Steve says patiently, managing a brief side glance, “I’m driving.”

“Right, okay, basically he looked like he thought I needed medical attention. And then he’s lifting up my trumpet case, and I’m trying to, like, signal with my eyes like, yay, great! Please just leave it outside the door if you wanna get out alive, but he doesn’t get it, so he knocks and Taylor. Just. Goes. Silent.”

“Ouch,” Steve says. He knows that type of silence well—thinks namely of Mr Mundy’s ire whenever he showed up late to math.

“And Eddie opens the door, and Taylor just speaks the most rapid French at him, and he basically does the world’s most startled mime act, like, pointing at the case then at me, and he’s got these eyes, Steve—”

“Woah, he has eyes? Hadn’t noticed.”

“—that are just begging you for help. And I’m trying to talk for him, in French, obviously, but I’m trying to widen my eyes like, dude, leave, but he just looks even more confused, but then it must click ‘cause he stammers out Bonjour, and Taylor’s staring him down, it’s so—”

“Sounds painful.”

“I mean, it was kinda worth it in the end.”

Steve chuckles. “Really? How?”

“A: I got my trumpet. And B…” There’s a giggle rising in Robin’s voice as she says, “Eddie Munson might not know much French, but he does know how to say Monsieur Harrington.”

“Bullshit, he didn’t say that.”

Silence, quickly broken by Robin’s hiccuping laughter—which, of course, means Steve starts laughing, too. Much later, he’ll recall just how much he smiled; how he told himself he didn’t quite know why.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes!” Robin says. It’s more of a squeak. “He even tried to make your name sound French, oh my God, I can’t breathe—”

“I mean, doesn’t it sound pretty French already?” Steve says, already planning how he can keep this going; maybe he’ll steal Robin’s beret when she isn’t looking. “Don’t I have that je ne sais quoi?”

“Oh, you are so corny, it’s unb—and don’t act like you don’t know it’s all anyone would talk about after, the whispers.” Robin’s voice rises comically. “Did he say Harrington? As in Steve, Steve Harrington?  Oh, my cousin was in his year, he’s so—”

“Shut up,” Steve says fondly. Then, faux smug, “Told you I’m still cool.”

They’re stuck behind a little build up of traffic, just before the turn off to Family Video—and just as Robin starts to reply, she cuts herself off.

Steve gives her another sidelong glance. She’s trying to slide down in her seat.

“… What are you doing?”

“Shh, Steve, he’s right there!”

“Who’s right—oh.”

Eddie Munson must be walking home today, because there he is on the sidewalk. He’s not noticed them, he’s just readjusting the strap of his bag across his shoulder.

Robin keeps wriggling.

Steve snorts. “Jeez, what’re you so scared of? He’s not gonna turn you to stone.” He thinks about it. “Well, actually, there was that one time where—but that’s just ‘cause one of the Murphy twins freaked at—”

“I’m not scared, I’m just mortified, Steve! I’ve basically ruined his life.”

“Uh-huh, totally. Look at him over there, that’s a broken man, all right.”

The traffic starts to move.

“Oh no,” Robin says. “Oh no, no, no.”

Steve grins mischievously. “I’m gonna say hi.”

Robin sounds like he’s just suggested they go rob a bank. “Steve, don’t you dare—”

“What? I like honking the horn, sue me!”

Which is true: whenever he stumbles upon one of the kids—when he’s not actually giving them rides—he loves seeing their reactions when they spot his car. He’s still got a warm glow from passing by Dustin and his mom on his way to work at the weekend, their enthusiastic waves.

They catch up to Eddie, and Steve sounds the horn in a short rhythmic group of three, like a little song.

He glances over in time to see Eddie’s eyes widen in recognition, a red flush creep up his neck. His hand lifts and hovers in the air like he doesn’t know whether to commit to a full wave or not.

Robin, evidently still panicking, winds down the window. She shouts wildly into the wind, “Merci!”

Steve makes it to the parking lot before he loses it.

“Merci?” he wheezes with laughter, as Robin frantically slaps him in the chest. “Merci?”

“I panicked!”

“Oh my God, really? No-one would know.”

“He’s gonna think I’m a total—”

“Freak?” Steve cackles. Robin socks him in the arm. “Ow!”

“That did not hurt. Ugh, maybe—maybe he didn’t know it was me?” A beat. “Steve.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you wanted me to lie to you.”

This time Steve avoids the punch, gets out the car and retrieves Robin’s work vest from the back. He tosses it to her over the roof of the car, shakes his head with exasperated affection.

“Rob, seriously, relax. Eddie Munson’s probably just praying he never sees us again.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Oh, well, in that case.”

But she does relax as she puts on her vest; she’s already enthusing about the movies they’ll watch over Spring Break by the time Steve unlocks the front door.

“You need to pick some, too, Steve.”

“Dude, I have a whole list, it’s in the car.”

“Très bien, Monsieur Harrington.”

“Jesus.” Steve scoffs. “Was that supposed to be an impression?”

“No! Eddie was more like…” Robin does an incredibly odd movement with her jaw, as if preparing herself.

Steve flinches back in mock horror. “Oh my God! Never mind.”

“Now, Monsieur Harrington—”

“Uh, no. That is not becoming a nickname.”

“Pass me those tapes, please.”

“No.”

“Whatever you say… Monsieur Harrington.”

“Robin,” Steve says, breaking again into laughter—and the sight of Eddie Munson so obviously blushing gently drifts to the back of his mind. “Ta gueule!”

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They’re gonna have sesbian lex

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please look at this picture junji ito drew of his moms crusty white dog

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has this been done before

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L Jinu moment

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them 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

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incredibly self indulgent doodles lol

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Iridescent trio

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our voices, without the lies

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fuck it, yurifies your huntrix

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cuntrix