#Cluster sampling

[marketxcel]

Cluster Sampling: Types, Advantages, Limitations, and Examples

Explore the various types, advantages, limitations, and real-world examples of cluster sampling in our informative blog. Learn how this sampling method can help researchers gather data efficiently and effectively for insightful analysis.

[wet-canid]

ASPD artistic?

okay so i've been thinking about this a lot, is it common for people with ASPD to be artistic in some manner? we use art as a distraction from our boredom. i feel like i've met a lot of artistic pwASPD so just curious

[light-wrath-paradise]

You know what at this point I feel like maybe I just need to either get institutionalised again or start an internship again because I feel like I am getting nothing.

[calico-strawberry]

Kicked someone from the match at Extract because they team killed me. Not because of the teamkill or anything but because they didn't pick up my samples before leaving.

[equalperson]

persotypical = no personality disorder or disordered traits; persodivergent = personality disorder and/or traits.

don't count armchair diagnoses (E.G. "my mom is a complete narc!"); unless they've been professionally or self-diagnosed with a PD, they're counted as persotypical for the sake of the poll.

[saltcherry]

“yeah I guess you could call me a programmer” --me, after a script appears to have worked once

[superficialdomina]

Down Under - Part 1

Series masterlist

Part 1

“The epicentre of the outbreak,” Steve was saying to his bleary-eyed team, “appears to be here.” His long pointer made a thwack as it struck the wall map somewhere in the south of Australia. His accompanying PowerPoint ticked over to a slide showing a photo of a single road running through a smattering of houses, deserted save for a large mob of kangaroos. Nice shot, you thought, as you covered a yawn with the back of your hand.

 “The village of Hall’s Gap,” Steve continued, “population 496. The Victorian Premier’s Office has been in touch with us tonight – that is, this morning –"

He pulled his wrist away from his face and blinked rapidly in an effort to check his watch. 4.30 am.

“Ahem. What I mean to say is, the local government has asked us to investigate what seems to be an outbreak of an unusual contagious illness. Fortunately, the remoteness of the locale means that the infection is so far contained to this small township. However, speed and discretion remain of the utmost importance.”

Your sleepy mind began to catch on. A contagion outbreak? In Victoria? An Australian mission... You nervously tried to blink away some of the fatigue. You were the obvious choice – a local, an ex-pat. Am I about to be sent home?

Bruce stood, drawing eyes to him in the semi-light afforded by the projector. “Ah – yeah,” he said. “Sorry to get you all up at this hour. But the faster we get in, find the source, and treat the patients, the better chance we have of eradicating it.”

“Hang on,” Barton interrupted, rubbing an eye, “hang on. Just back up a minute. What exactly do you mean, “unusual illness”?”

“Ah – yeah,” Banner said again, his face pink. “I’ll - I’ll just show you.” The PowerPoint ticked over again, and Steve averted his eyes.

This time it was footage. The scene was grainy and captured from above, as though on a cheap security camera; it looked like the front room of a bank. Clusters of bodies, dozens of them, writhed on – or against – every surface. There was no sound, but there was also no mistaking what they were doing.

The conference room was suddenly wide awake.

“Wait...” Natasha spoke to Bruce without moving her eyes from the scene. “Are they?...”

“Involved in coitus, yes,” Steve answered instead, his gaze still resolutely at the floor. “The major symptom of infection is what you see here: an insatiable… desire. For copulation.” He swallowed. “For sexual intercourse.”

Voices broke out across the room. “Brother,” you heard Loki chuckle, “does it not remind you of that party we attended on Vanaheim?”

Rogers spoke over the noise, having overcome his embarrassment. “The repercussions of infection are serious. We mean truly insatiable; patients are forgetting to eat, drink, or sleep. We believe several lives have been lost.”

Muted respect fell over the room, and Bruce spoke again. “I need to get in there and collect a sample in order to prepare treatment options – ideally a vaccine.”

You finally found voice to speak. “Can’t Australia just send you a sample? Why do we need to go in?”

“Great idea,” Tony broke in. “Except that no one who’s entered Hall’s Gap in the past week has come out.”

Steve took over again. “We suspect this is a Hydra bioweapon pilot, possibly released from a hidden location in the nearby national park.” Another slide, this time of picturesque wilderness: mountain streams and gushing waterfalls framed by towering eucalypts and sheer rockfaces. “To that end, our objectives are two-fold. Collect a sample for analysis, and find and neutralise the Hydra base.”

There was a brief silence before Clint spoke again. “Alright, Cap. Who’s going in?”

“It will just be four of you at first; a small group will move faster.” Steve looked directly at you. “As our resident Australian, Agent, I want you on the ground.” You had been expecting the order, but a pit still instantly formed in your stomach. “A local SHIELD operative will meet you and guide you in. Banner will obviously join you… As will our Asgardian brothers here.”

Thor rolled his shoulders back and gave a pompous nod, but Loki narrowed his eyes. “Why?” he asked.

“You never get sick,” Stark cut in again. “Remember that flu that ripped through here in February? The two of you didn’t even sneeze. We don’t know what this is, but you’re the safest bet when it comes to any degree of innate immunity.”

“The rest of us will wait here for your signal,” Rogers continued. “Any sign of Hydra – any suggestion that you might need support – we’ll be on our way.”

“When do we leave?” you asked.

Steve checked his watch again. “An hour.” He squinted. “Make that – forty-six minutes.”

You always hated take-off. The familiar plummet of your stomach as the Quinjet rose into the air; the crushing embrace as it accelerated to full speed. But once you were safely at cruising altitude and could move about again, flying wasn’t so bad. You sat next to Banner as he skillfully piloted the aircraft across the Pacific Ocean, feeling your apprehension grow with every passing mile of open sea.

Focus on the mission, you thought.

“Bruce, if no one has made it back out of Hall’s Gap, how do we know what’s going on there? How did we get that footage?”

“It’s a cloud-recording. When State officials realised no one in town was answering a phone, let alone leaving the area, they accessed the bank’s security footage.” He grinned, but it was mirthless. “Bet they weren’t expecting to see that.”

“So, what – it’s a virus?”

“More likely a fungal pathogen,” Bruce replied. “There’s a cordyceps fungus that does something similar to ghost moths in the Himalayas. I’ve got some generic antifungal meds that we’ll all take as a precaution, but I can’t develop a proper vaccine until I’ve got a sample.”

“How do you get a sample?”

“From infected brain tissue,” Bruce said grimly.

You were interrupted by a deep yelp from behind, and you turned to see Thor shaking out his right hand as though stung. The brothers were passing time with a game that looked like a combination of rock-paper-scissors and bloody knuckles. Loki leaned back in his seat, his cat-got-the-cream expression widening. One long, leather-clad leg stretched out into the aisle; the other bent at the knee so that his foot could rest on the seat in front. You could see the raised outline of his quadriceps. He lifted his arms to settle his hands behind his head, the card of his slender fingers through his own hair making you squirm. Why are the pretty ones always such dickheads?

You mentally shook yourself. Loki’s smarm and sex appeal were irrelevant. People were dying.

Rage flared within you. How dare they. Hydra had targeted Australia not because it posed a threat, or because the location gave them a tactical advantage. It was because a test release of a bioweapon in a place like Hall’s Gap was easy to hide.

Remote. Wild. Dangerous.

You pushed Loki’s long limbs out of your mind. Without your full concentration, the mission could be deadly.

It was after midnight local time when the Quinjet began descending.

“Ten minutes, guys,” Banner said, as the altimeter rapidly ticked down.

Loki stood, making a big show of stretching, his leather armour creaking. He caught you watching him and gave a wolfish grin, then a small shrug of his left shoulder.

You almost jumped in surprise. Green light licked up his body, and the black leather was replaced by sensible, climate-appropriate clothing: a lightweight collared shirt open over a tight, V-necked tank top, and moleskin hiking pants. A small triangle of pale flesh was visible at his shoulder where his layers left a gap. You had to make a conscious effort to close your mouth. Sensible, but hot as hell. I bet those pants make his ass look amazing.

He winked at you from under the wide brim of a dark-brown Akubra, resplendent with what looked like kookaburra feathers, as Banner landed on a grassy flat at the fringe of the Australian desert.

“We’ll sleep here the rest of the night,” he said, as the group descended the Quinjet ramp into the warm, moonless night. “There’s a local guide meeting us in the morning, then it’s a day’s hike into Hall’s Gap. Can’t risk flying any closer and being detected, in case Hydra really is nearby. We’ll stay off the roads for the same reason.”

“When you say, ‘here’…” Loki looked around the rough clearing distastefully.

“Loki, you must learn to tolerate the lesser comforts!” Thor’s jovial voice was louder than ever in the abandoned night. “Remember the time you stole away from the Queen’s retinue at Mimisbrunnen because the baths were too cold…”

You followed the sound of running water to a nearby stream, surrounded by the scent of eucalyptus and tea tree. As water trickled into your canteen, leaves rustled; the movement of some large marsupial, disturbed by your presence. It was unexpectedly comforting.

It’s been too long, you thought, as memory flooded your senses. But then, once upon a time, I didn’t think I’d ever be back again.

There was a slapping sound from the group, and a swear word in a foreign language. “What in Hel?!” Thor spluttered. “These biting insects are the size of small birds!” The hiss of an aerosol can quickly followed, as Banner generously doused him in mosquito repellent. You grinned to yourself.

The Quinjet’s lights shut off, leaving the four of you in darkness. You rolled out your sleeping gear some distance from the others, stripped out of most of your clothing, and lay flat on your back in your sleeping bag. Sleep might be a big ask, you thought, as you gazed upwards. The arm of the Milky Way stretched overhead, like a hug from an old friend.

You’d always secretly thought this hemisphere had the superior night sky. You were mentally cataloguing as many southern constellations as you could remember when Loki appeared out of the night beside you. Is he… topless? It was hard to tell in the dark. Maybe he’s just wearing really tight sleepwear. The thought made you press your thighs together.

“May I?” he asked, polite but vaguely entitled. “Thor, of course, is already snoring loudly enough to disturb Valhalla.” You could indeed hear the deep rumble.

“Ah - sure,” you said, surprised. In general, Loki didn’t speak to you. Or anyone, besides Thor, if you didn’t count barbed quips and snarky commentary on the day-to-day operations of the team. You weren’t even sure he knew your name.

He spread another of SHEILD’s high-tech swags out beside you.

“This is your home, yes?” he asked, as he slid into his bedding.

You let out a deep breath. “Yeah. Well, um, not here here. On the coast.”

“You are lucky to be able to return,” he murmured.

You risked a quick glance at him, struck by the sadness in his voice. “I guess so.” He, too, was gazing up at the night sky. “Do you... miss home?”

“Ceaselessly.”

You felt the silence stretch, disconcerted by his honesty. “Um - can I tell you about our stars?”

“I am very familiar with the Midgardian sky.”

 “But the sky here is different. Everything’s upside down, for a start.” You pointed to the constellation of Orion, clearly head-down. “See?”

You heard the slight smile in his voice as he said, “I see. What else?”

Speaking quietly, you pointed out all the familiar sky-marks you had found when you’d first laid down. "It's a pity the SHEILD tactical goggles don’t work very well for the sky – too specialised for detection and warfare, I guess,” you said. A thought occurred to you. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a pair of binoculars in that magic pocket of yours?”

Loki either smiled or grimaced – you could only see the glint of his teeth. “I can do better than that,” he muttered, almost to himself.

With a faint fizzling sound and a flash of silver, the entire night sky blossomed into colour and light.

It was as though you were lying under an enormous telescope dome. Your eyes could discern individual stars of the Omega Centauri cluster, or the spectacular colour and shape of the Carina nebula, or any of a hundred other astronomical wonders suddenly visible to you from horizon to horizon.

You glanced at Loki again. His sky was casting enough light to see him clearly now; he lay with his arm under his head and a serene smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“My pleasure,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the scene above.

You lay there, the two of you, gazing upwards in silent wonder. You thought about what it meant to be home, why you had left so many years ago… How it might feel to have no home to return to. Until finally, just as Loki’s breathtaking illusion began to fade, you fell asleep.

Part 2

Tags in comments xx

[morningwitchy]

well...the salamander woods knit cardigan sample arrived with me! and, as it turns out, i made a bit of a mistake when i was setting up the digital mock ups for the shop and made the sleeves the same color as the body -while i set up the actual sample with brown sleeves.

and...of course i love how the brown sleeves look 😭😭😭

what do you guys think of brown sleeves instead of green? i kind of love how subtle is makes the acorn clusters look. let me know!! and not to worry if you preordered this design - ill be sending out a proper email as well and (if i go with this colorway) anyone who doesn't like this version will get a full refund!

p.s. ill be showing off the chest and back embroidery soon :) the green thread colors just need to be tweaked to better stand out against the body!

[reddpenn]

My favorite rock out of my (tiny) rock collection is a malachite sample. I would commit many crimes for a chunk of azurite though! Do you have any samples of either?

Here is my best malachite!

This piece is a pseudomorph, or "false form," a mineral taking the shape of a different mineral!

It started out as a cluster of azurite crystals. Over time, the azurite turned into malachite! This is something that can happen to azurite which is exposed to the air over long periods of time. It's not very chemically stable, and it reacts with moisture in the air to become the much more stable malachite - which chemically speaking is pretty much the exact same mineral but with way more hydrogen molecules. The malachite replaced the azurite perfectly, even preserving the exact shape of its crystals! Isn't that cool?!

As for azurite, this big sparkly specimen is my best piece of that!

[xesnox]

All currently active NeoBuilders.

Minecraft default skins in Ancient Ruins, reference picture at the end for comparison.

Don’t look too close at the faces, had to speedrun this so I could actually motivate myself to finish the entire lineup. Definitely not my best work. Clothing was a pain to figure out and I’ll definitely change some things in the future as I’m still not entirely happy with the general aesthetics of some sets. Zuri and Efe were the worst to figure out, their clothing styles were very modern in comparison to what I’m going for with Ancient Ruins so it took me a while.

But first of all, what is a NeoBuilder?

Lore entry Ahead, body horror warning, nothing too extreme I wouldn’t say, but the concept definitely isn’t the prettiest.

“NeoBuilder” describes a category of individuals that appear to be within the homo-genus (Artisan Family.).

The dissection of a deactivated individual showed (us) they are made of about 85% mechanical components, most of which consist of copper and iron. Organs however remain fully functional and can be traced back to Ancient Artisans in origin through DNA sampling. Blood vessels aswell as a large portion of their flesh has been replaced by machinery, activated regulated and moved through restricted soul energy coursing through their veins as blood would on a fully biological human.

The change of energy source makes them effectively immune to the green plague, which is transmitted through blood. In place of a heart they have a still unnamed chamber (Ch1), acting akin to a cockpit housing a freshly created soul, which is replaced by converting experience farmed in the previous lifecycle to the next, taking the raw energy and morphing it into a new soul. As souls are neither human nor animal but simply an energy cluster made of (if found post mortum) memories and life experience this can easily (and understandably) be transferred, even if the origin of the experience in question happens to be non-sentient. The experience is collected and stored within yet another unnamed organ replacing their left kidney (Ch2).

But do not be fooled, this process by no means makes them immortal. If the body is in critical shape it will resort to exporting the active soul and using the remaining soul energy still running through the machinery to activate the emergency program. In this state the body will do nothing but return to whatever point the machine has clocked as “safe” (this kind of reset happens when the person is resting for an extended period of time, as it marks said area as safe enough to stay vulnerable within.) and fix its injuries back to base point, excluding the bio-matter, as there no longer is any such material around. Through the expelling of the last soul, and slow process of developing a new one, the machine will power down there until the next energy burst. This means that even though the body itself remains alive, every life cycle houses a different person. If you see the same NeoBuilder twice it is therefore not guaranteed it will come with the same intention, as it might be a completely different soul speaking through the same form.

If the damage is too bad however, the NeoBuilder will shut down and cannot be reactivated unless one with actual knowledge of how to do so were to interfere. The how has been lost to history however, we blame the creature of despair and decay that shall not be named. It is different from deactivation, as it renders the body permanently dead. Many NeoBuilders have deactivated, we assume only 9 of the previous 30 remain.

We have no idea as to why these manmade humanoids were created, as the why has also been buried and lost to years of untouched unaddressed missing history.

Infact, their names are quite new, till about half a century ago, due to my own research if I may pat myself on the back, we had assumed them to be a strange strain of plague infested ancients, as they’d always remained distant to us and a dead specimen was a more than rare find. It is not a fully worked out name whatsoever, the “Builder” merely connecting them to the Artisan family, and the word “Neo”- as in “New” replacing the word “Ancient” we’ve been using to describe the other half of the family thus far, it is a placeholder by all means, but so is the latter.

Their nature would definitively make them more akin to bio-mechanical golems, however we chose to group them into the artisan family for the previously mentioned bio material, which matched identical to that of the mummified remains cave divers had found a few years back lodged between long forgotten pathways shut to time. Wasn’t a pretty sight when they showed me. One would think after a good few millennia they’d be nothing but a pile of ash and bones, but low oxygen levels within the closed off cave system made for some awfully good preservation, not pretty I dare say, I’m just glad nothing snapped at me during inspection as, perhaps in this case thankfully, the undead plague only infects the living; anything that doesn’t breathe and lacks running blood cannot fall victim to such a thing. But personal tangent aside, some interesting notes here:

- Despite the soul of the Neobuilder swapping with each lifecycle they generally keep the same base morals of the previous host.

- it seems Mother Earth isn’t very fond of them for whatever reason. The undead are very manageable if one isn’t around, but as soon as one chooses to stay in close vicinity it very quickly gets nearly impossible to maneuver, they’re like a magnet. It seems this is the reason they rarely last longer than 20 years within a single lifecycle.

- they’re actually quite cooperative, and many have learned our language. Though sorrowfully it appears they only store a single slot for their language, and forget all other information of a previously spoken one upon interaction (perhaps they were meant as a situational translation device?). I’ve attempted my best to reteach them, but I’m no linguist; I limit my research to history, with a limited understanding of biology. To figure out the mechanics alone I had to get a whole other villager to help my case.

- despite a large portion of their flesh being replaced by mechanical components an extra layer of the fat cells within the subcutis create an artificial layer of flesh like material dampening any slashes at the golem like form below.

More research to be added once I acquire more material to work with. This is a work in progress.

Understudied field, more research either classified information or unable to be attained due to both lack of examples and individuals willing enough to risk their lives acquiring such needless information. Ivan D. P. Retired shortly after writing his book discussing categorized biological information regarding the entities within our realm, which has since been removed from the market. The authors doctor title has been revoked due to a less than fortunate suspected alliance with the Illager cult on his end, so choose the information you’re willing to believe wisely, the villages dislike him for a reason.

We sincerely apologize but certain behaviors are to be taken seriously regarding the issues the cult on the outskirts has caused us in the past. Rumors have to be believed regarding individuals actively choosing to house away from the masses for whatever reason, to keep the general public safe.

Moving just out of sight to dedicate your life to dissecting humanoids on your dinner table is not normal behavior and was it not for his living position would hastily be investigated,

mumbling about how you hate our community doesn’t lessen our concerns, if you read this Ivan, it was not funny and it will never be, you know of the missing people concerns: if it happens again we’re sorry to inform you but you’ll no longer be welcome within this village.

[honeysickledream]

Stellate (sex pollen) | Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Scientist!Reader

NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI) CW for dubcon / dubious consent, sex pollen, fuck or die (possibly?), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), squirting, panty stealing, dead dove do not eat [if i missed anything, lmk please!] w/c: ~1.3k a/n: I needed more sex pollen fics in my life so I tried my best to fulfill that need—now i’m gonna see if I can get some work done now, byeeee [edited: this was my first attempt at smut in ages, sorry if it's rough]

You and Soap had been tasked with receiving samples of a plant from a remote enemy research facility that had been reported abandoned. Soap was to act as your bodyguard in case the intel was faulty and a few enemies, or traps, remained while you collected the samples that the head researchers from your lab needed. You accepted the mission, you had no choice but to, and didn’t fuss about Soap’s talkative presence on the journey to the facility. His stories were funny and almost as charming as his blue eyes, and the sense of security he gave you was welcoming.

The intel had been accurate: the research outpost was abandoned, and based on appearances, it had been a hasty abandonment. Partially full gas cans sat beside trucks that had been haphazardly loaded with various crates. In the offices, personal items remained littered on the desktops. The floors of the general labs were stained with various chemicals, research notes and glass from beakers and full titration sets scattered across the floor. Soap pressed forward to the hydroponic labs and you followed him nervously, keeping six feet between you just in case something went wrong ahead.

The hydroponics lab was dimly lit with a faint haze that hung dimly in the air. Florescent tubes flickered randomly behind the glass covers. State-of-the-art hydroponic tables stood in perfectly measured rows with clusters of leafy plants in wide, black plastic pots. The flowers that bloomed in clusters on top were beautiful: stellate petals colored lilac, slashed with a deep orange down the center.

You got to work as quickly as you could, gloving your hands and laying out your equipment on the empty space beside your chosen plant. With a steady hand, you gently plucked a few petals with a pair of long tweezers, placing each one into its own marked specimen pouch. You collected a few leaves, noting that the margins were dentate. You snipped one of the stamens, being sure to not jostle it too much as you lowered into a pouch.

The plant…shuddered when you looked back at it in preparation to swipe a sample of the stigma. You gave the plant a long, hard look. It had shuddered, you knew it had, yet there had been no breeze, and Soap was across the lab doing his own thing. There was no evidence that something was alive in the lab, either: no cocoons or webs, droppings or bite marks on any of the leaves you’d looked at. You pressed the cotton tip of the swab to the stigma and twisted it once for your sample.

It moved again and you took a step back, calling out for Soap. The flowers turned to you—actually turned—and a faintly pink substance sputtered from the stigmas and into your face. A short coughing fit overcame you as your lungs started to burn, your eyes watering and clouding over with a pink haze.

Panic bloomed in your heart and the blood in your veins shot cold before a wave of painful heat slithered through your veins and settled into your bones. Your heartbeat became erratic as whatever compound in the flower’s pollen mixed with the chemical components in your brain, which was no doubt accelerated by your panic.

Soap’s voice, muffled by the faint ringing that had settled in your ears, partially registered in your mind and you looked toward him. His broad form was vaguely recognizable through the pink haze over your eyes. A painful throbbing perfectly in time with your heartbeat settled between your legs as he fussed over your pollen-covered face with a dampened rag. Need. God, you needed something. Him, that’s what you needed.

The little logical voice in your head was long gone, silence by another voice. Its eerie whispers filled every nook and cranny of your mind as it planted image after image of Soap fucking you in every position you’d read about and watched on those lonely nights that had become far too frequent. You fisted the straps of his tactical vest, pulling him closer. “Help,” you panted. You grabbed his hand to guide it between your thighs. He froze and blasphemed under his breath as he felt how wet you were through your slacks. “Help me, please. Do something!” His fingers crooked against your clothed cunt. “Evac’ll be here soon,” he rasped.

Your head shook ‘No’ quickly. “Not soon enough. You gotta help me now!”

“Lass—“

“Please,” you sobbed. “I need it—I want it!”

His hands settled on your hips as he shushed you. He walked you back to the edge of the edge of the hydroponic bench. You’re pressed into the edge and then you were on your back, your slacks and underwear yanked down and tossed aside. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders as he knelt on the concrete floor. His rough thumb worked quickly against your throbbing clit while his tongue moved against your leaking slit. Your hips bucked, pathetic whimpers and breathy moans falling from your lips. All the heat in your veins suddenly moved towards your belly, coiling tighter and tighter. It wasn’t enough all of a sudden. You begged for more as you carded your fingers through his hair and pressed his face harder against you. His hold on you shifted, his tongue replacing his thumb against your clit as his slowly pressed his middle finger into you. A dizzying mix of praise laced with fond degradation was panted against your clit as you clenched around his finger that crooked against that spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids, that spot very few men you’d been with cared to focus on. His ring finger slipped into you and his pace quickened. The stimulation, the stretch, those filthy sweet words he panted against you was quickly becoming your undoing. The coiled tension that sat low in your belly tightened suddenly. You tried to warn him that you were about to cum but all that came from your mouth was a sharp gasp as you gushed around his fingers. You whined when he pulled his fingers from you as he stood. The fog in your mind had begun to dissipate quickly. That eerie voice that told you all the ways you needed Soap had been silenced, you vision cleared of the pink haze. Soap placed your slacks beside you as he licked his lips and fingers clean of you. That image was going to stay with you for the rest of your life, not that you minded. His radio crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the evac and quarantine team. You He carefully slid your specimen pouches and tools into your satchel while you shakily pulled on your slacks— “Where’s…my underwear?” you asked. Soap shrugged and turned on his heels to make his way out of the lab. Your eyes caught the bunch of familiar black fabric sticking out of his back pocket when you call into line behind you. You didn’t mention it. Not after he cured you of whatever that pollen did to you. He deserved a little reward for all his help. You took in a sharp breath as you exited the building. The air was crisp, cool. Soap nudged your side and you looked to your left. A small team of contamination personnel worked to set up their screening tent and laid out PPE for your return to base. “We’re gonna be in quarantine for a while,” you told him. You felt his eyes drift to you, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed him smirk. “Aye. Reckon it’ll be together?” “Hm…Possibly.” “Quarantine can be borin’.” Your lips pursed as you try not to grin. You fail. “That it can. Got some ideas to keep the boredom at bay?” He snorted. “Aye, plenty.”

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

The Only Tally Mark

Ship: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: The 'You Suck' tallies are getting pretty high, but there's a girl in Scoops Ahoy who knows Robin in wrong. If she can just get the courage to open her mouth, Steve's luck is about to change.

Word Count: 7,250 words

Warnings: Robin's a bit mean, she also has no filter, pining, Steve's failed flirting attempts, blatant staring/pining, implied confession, first kiss

Note: Set pre-s4 and the day Dustin comes back, before the Russian code is cracked.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

July had only just begun in Hawkins, and you could already tell it was going to be a hot one. Less than twenty-four hours in, temperatures had already hit record-breaking highs—at least, that was according to the weatherman on the television you were sat in front of, sweating and feeling relief from the heat only when the fan beside you swiveled back toward you.

“Every July is this hot,” your father said from the kitchen, where he was drinking his second glass of water in five minutes.

“Oh, sure, but never this early,” your mother retorted. “It’s only the first, and already we’re melting out of the house.”

Sensing an irritable argument birthed from the nearly unbearable heat, you left the living room and headed up the stairs to your bedroom. You picked up the phone you’d begged your parents to let you have years ago, dialing the number of your best friend of four years: Robin Buckley, the band dweeb to your theatre kid.

It was her mom who answered the phone, several dial tones later. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Buckley—is Robin home?”

“Oh, hi, sweetie! She’s at work right now, her shift ends at seven.”

You stopped yourself from swearing. “Oh, right, I forgot. Thank you!”

“No problem, dear,” Mrs. Buckley said before hanging up.

You leaned against the wall. How could you have forgotten? Robin had been telling you about her new job in the mall—and the sailor’s uniform she had to wear. You’d seen her get ready for work once and had burst into giggles the moment she put the hat on her head.

You glanced at the digital clock next to your bed, checking the time. There was still several hours before the mall closed. You might as well visit Robin and abuse your friendship to get some free ice cream at the same time, right?

So you grabbed your wallet and shoved it in your pocket and bounded down the stairs.

"Hey, I'm going out!" you shouted to your parents.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" your father asked, appearing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

"To the mall? Robin works there and I'm going to visit."

"Don't spend too much, dear!" your mother called.

"Sure, Mom!"

You hopped in your car and headed for the mall, following the thick cluster of traffic that always lined the streets leading to the mall, passing through the streets lined with empty, hollow shops.

~❊~

The mall was crowded, as busy as it had always been since the day it opened. You pushed your way through the crowds gathered around storefronts and display windows, trying to remember which floor Scoops Ahoy was on.

You took the escalator down to the first floor and scanned the shops surrounding you. When you spotted the sign for the ice cream store, you headed toward it, maneuvering past a group of pre-teens cackling about manipulating the store's workers into giving them free samples.

There was no one at the counter when you walked in. A majority of the tables were occupied by groups of teens. As you approached the register, you could hear faint bickering from behind the pebbled glass windows, Robin's distinct voice floating out to you.

"...do the job you're supposed to do, I've been scooping so much ice cream my hand's cramped," she was saying.

You stifled a giggle and tapped your hand lightly against the bell in front of you, wincing when it was a little louder than you had been expecting.

The swing door on the left opened with a bang, revealing the back of a boy who was gesturing at Robin, who was quite literally pushing him out the door. She disappeared before you could catch her attention, and the other attendant took up his place in front of the register.

"Ahoy, sailor! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain, I'm Steve Harrington."

You blinked at him. "Is that company policy like the hat and the outfit?"

He stared at you. "I'm sorry, what?"

You shrugged. "I'm a friend of Robin's, she complains about the, and I quote, stupid company rules that make everyone look stupid."

He stared at you. You stared at him. Awkward silence settled between the two of you.

The introduction hadn't been necessary. You had spent most of your high school experience listening to Robin complain about Steve Harrington and his stupid perfect hair and his stupid easy charm and his stupid actual stupidity. The Steve she'd painted matched up perfectly with the kid you'd seen around in the halls, dressed in his ironed polo shirts and pleated khakis or that stupid basketball uniform and letterman jacket—and Nancy Wheeler on his arm.

You and Robin had watched his life crash and burn with malicious glee—and all the while you had tried to ignore that this was the very same boy you'd crushed on in middle school, and had been so shocked to find out had changed so much when you got to the high school, a year after he did.

Steve cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the register, firmly away from you. "Um. What can I get you?"

"Uh..." Every ice cream flavor you had ever liked instantly disappeared from your head. It wasn't like the usual mind-blankness that came from being asked a question about your favorite anything. It was like your entire body had stopped, freezing in the pretty face of Steve Harrington, ridiculous as the uniform was. Especially with the hat, which Robin hadn't told you about.

The door swung open again. "Jesus, Steve, what's taking you so damn long?" Robin froze where she stood. A smile lit up her face. "What are you doing here?!"

You grinned. "Visiting!"

Robin hip-checked Steve out of the way. Steve glared at her while she grabbed the ice cream scoop from the pocket at his side.

"Jesus, do you have to be so brutal?" he snapped.

Clearly fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Robin turned back to Steve. "I'm sorry, would you please get out of the way so I can serve my best friend? Thanks," she said, her customer service smile plastered to her face.

Muttering under his breath, Steve pushed away from the counter, leaning on the sill of the window behind him. He crossed his arms, still staring resolutely at the floor.

Robin grinned at you. "I wasn't expecting you to—"

"Be here?" you finished. "I called your house before I realized you were working, so I thought I might as well come visit."

"Glad you did," she said. "You would not believe how much of a headache it is working with dingus over there."

You glanced over her shoulder at Steve, his pink lips forming a pissy pout. Oh, yeah. Still pretty, still a bitch.

"You didn't tell me you worked with him," you said under your breath.

Robin shrugged, shooting you a knowing smile. "Yeah, well, I knew you'd show up and find out for yourself eventually." Her eyes slid to the corners, as if she could see Steve sulking behind her. "We'll talk about him later. What ice cream do you want? On us."

You giggled. "How did I know you'd say that?"

She snorted. "Oh, so you're abusing our friendship for free ice cream?"

"Maybe," you said. "Just this once."

Robin rolled her eyes and grabbed an ice cream cone. "Here—I'll grab your favorite."

And, without you needing to remind her, she lowered the scoop into the tub of ice cream that you got every time the two of you had gotten ice cream after going to see a movie, back before the mall. You wondered how you could have forgotten, until you looked over Robin's shoulder again and found Steve looking up, lips parted and eyes fixed on you. The minute you caught his gaze, he blushed and looked away.

You took advantage of his embarrassment, admiring the pink in his cheeks and how he awkwardly licked his lips. He toyed with the watch on his wrist, crossed and uncrossed his legs. Was he nervous? An even better question—had you ever seen Steve Harrington nervous before?

While you studied Steve, Robin made a second cone of ice cream, a different flavor than yours.

Robin looked behind her. "Hey—man the counter, will you? I'm going on break."

Steve spluttered. "You just came back from break!"

"No, we just finished our lunch break. I still have my federally-required thirty minutes to take. So I'm gonna take 'em." She shoved the scoop at Steve's chest and stepped out from behind the counter.

The pair of you took an unoccupied table near the counter, in case she was needed.

"Should you be leaving him to do it by himself?" you asked, glancing back at Steve one last time.

"What, are you worried about him? He'll be fine," Robin said. She shrugged with a sigh. "He's...he's not as bad as we thought he was in high school. He's less of a douche now, at least."

"Just a dingus?" you asked with a smile.

She nodded. "He's still as stupid as we always thought."

You turned your attention away from Steve at toward your ice cream. "Why didn't you tell me he worked with you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's not have that conversation while he's here, okay? For your dignity's sake. I know he's far away, but he's got impressive hearing." She shrugged. "Blame it on four years of listening for gossip, I guess."

Your gaze shifted back to Steve as he raked a hand through his hair, stretching enough for his shirt to lift. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you crossed your legs. Now that he wasn't surrounded by assholes who mocked you and Robin and your friends for their own personal entertainment, it was easier to appreciate how he'd grown into himself since middle school. Taking care of himself had made him a whole new level of handsome.

Robin giggled. "Yeah—that's why we're not gonna talk about this while he's around. You still have a thing for him, don't you?"

Steve relaxed against the countertop, fixing his hair and putting the hat back on with a scowl. You cleared your throat.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Me? Forget about you having the most embarrassing crush on him for years? Only to get to high school and find out he'd become a dick? Never."

You groaned. "Oh, stop rubbing it in!"

A gaggle of girls walked into the store, four of them giggling and talking and rolling their eyes. Immediately, Steve stood up a little straighter and fiddled with his uniform.

Robin snorted. "Oh, watch this. He's been failing catastrophically with every girl that walks in. I keep count."

"You keep count?"

She nodded gleeful, pointing with her chin in the direction of the counter.

"Ahoy, ladies!" Steve said, leaning on the counter. His attempt to be attractive failed dismally, however, when his hand slipped off the side and he lost both his balance and his composure for a moment.

One of the girls giggled with her friend. Steve's cheeks darkened.

"I'm Steve Harrington, I'll be your captain on this ocean of flavor. What can I get you lovely ladies today?"

You glanced at Robin. "I don't see what he's doing wrong."

"That's because this is scripted," Robin whispered back.

The first girl stepped forward. "One scoop of chocolate and one of vanilla, please."

Steve tried a debonaire smile. "Oooh, classic, I like it. I'm all for vanilla myself, you know, all the time."

You winced. "Was...was that supposed to be a double entendre?"

"Yep," Robin said, popping the p with a smirk.

"I see what you mean now," you said. The girl was making a face that said she caught Steve's drift and found it rude. Steve cleared his throat and moved on, scooping ice cream into a cone and handing it to her with a mortified whisper of "here you go." His gaze flicked over to you and Robin, at which point his mortification seemed to grow.

You watched the exchange grow steadily worse. Steve stumbled over his words and tripped over his feet and dropped an empty cone twice. Customers who had already gotten ice cream became onlookers who left, one by one, as the secondhand embarrassment grew.

"God, he's hopeless," you whispered. "Whatever happened to the Steve in high school?"

"You mean the one with a new girl on his arm every week? I'd say that stopping can be blamed on one Nancy Wheeler," Robin said.

You rolled your eyes. "While they were dating, obviously. But now? One relationship shouldn't make him incapable of flirting with a girl."

Robin watched the girls leave, snickering behind their hands. A moment later, Steve groaned, wiping a hand over his face. "You know what I think his problem is?"

"What?"

"He's trying to flirt all of them into submission, not just one girl he likes out of the group."

You nodded slowly. "Sounds about right. I mean...if he flirted with me one minute and then you the next, I don't think I'd want to jump his bones, exactly."

Robin rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about? You've always wanted to jump his bones."

"That was middle school, and that was before any of us gave a shit about sex."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Robin teased. "I saw how you looked at him during gym class."

You shrugged, trying to hide your face behind your hair. Robin knew your expressions better than anyone; your embarrassment was going to be obvious the minute she caught sight of you. "It's gym class! Guys don't wear shirts ninety percent of the time, they practically invite girls to stare." Your gaze slid back to Steve, who was once again staring at the floor. His cheeks were still red, and that pretty mouth of his had once again formed a pout. "Jesus, I don't think I've ever seen him so...despondent."

"He's like that at least five times a shift," Robin said. She played with a small red plastic spoon she had pulled from her pocket. "You know... You could come work here with us. Then you'd get to see Steve every day."

"Robin, you're constantly complaining about how much you hate working your, and I quote, pitiful minimum wage job."

"Yeah, but you like Steve, and eye candy makes the day go by faster."

You swatted her arm discreetly. "Don't objectify him!"

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, Steve!"

Steve looked up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack, even with some distance between your table and the counter. "What?"

"Come convince her to work with us!"

You glared at her. "Robin, I already have a summer job!" you protested, trying to stop your heart from racing as Steve approached the two of you. You looked anywhere but him, knowing a soft smile and a well-timed flutter of his eyelashes was all it would take for Steve to convince you to do anything he asked.

Steve pulled a chair from the other table for two next to you, spinning it unnecessarily in his hand and dragging it to the edge of your table. He straddled it, leaning his arms against the backrest. Your heart climbed into your throat.

Steve's eyes met yours and every thought melted from your brain. Brown had never been such a pretty color. Although his eyes weren't just brown, they were hazel, mottled with soft greens and blues and greys. You'd never seen such beautiful eyes before, so expressive and kind and interested and attentive and—

"Tell her why she should come work with us," Robin said, breaking your focus on Steve's eyes.

You rolled your eyes. "Robin, I already have a job," you repeated. "A job I like that pays well that I can work at year-round."

Steve snorted, shaking his head absentmindedly. "Then don't come here, that's for sure. The pay is shit, the job is just as bad, and nobody likes ice cream in the winter."

Robin glared at him. "What part of convincing her do you not understand?"

Steve shrugged, ignoring her. "But, then again, you'd get to work with Robin and you might alleviate my boredom from dealing with her all the time." He jerked his head toward Robin. "You wouldn't believe how mean to me she is."

You stifled a giggle as Robin huffed. An easy grin reminiscent of the king he once as slid across Steve's face. You felt slightly giddy, knowing you had been the one to put it there.

More people walked into the store and Robin shot to her feet. "Come on, dingus. We have a job to do." She dragged him to his feet, ignoring his hiss of complaint. He shot you an apologetic shrug as she pulled him behind the register again.

While the two of them got back to work, you sat back in your booth table and finished your ice cream. Once you were done, you discreetly snuck out of the store, leaving a note for Robin at the counter promising to call her after her shift.

As you wrote the note and taped it to the register, you failed to notice Steve pause where he was scooping ice cream to watch you, or that his gaze stayed on you until you left the store and Robin had to snap him out of his reverie.

~❊~

Though it seemed utterly impossible, the next day was even hotter than the last. You lasted all of two hours at the community pool before you got tired of the screaming children and moms flirting with Billy Hargrove and you went home.

You changed out of your bathing suit, dressing more consciously than you had since the eighth grade semi-formal. You selected your jewelry carefully before hopping in your car and heading to the mall for a second time that week.

Scoops Ahoy was significantly less busy when you walked in. Robin looked half-asleep where she stood at the counter, but she brightened when you walked in.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" she asked, leaning on the counter with a grin.

You shrugged. "It's hot, ice cream is a solution."

She studied you for a moment. "The pool didn't solve that?"

You scoffed. "Hell no. It's full of tiny children and middle-aged moms and girls who only go so they can take up space and stare at Billy."

"And there's no Steve there, is there?" Robin teased.

You rolled your eyes. "No," you admitted. "Or you."

Robin scooped your ice cream and passed it to you over the countertop. "He'll be back soon, his break ends in a minute. He went to go grab us food."

"He what?"

Robin shrugged. "Yeah, he does that a lot. I hate to say it, but he's actually a nice guy. I think we might have been wrong about him."

You grinned. "So I was right back in middle school! I told you."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you did." She cleared her throat. "Behind you."

You heard Steve's footsteps approaching a split second before he said, "Hey, you're back! Applying?"

Turning to face him, you snorted. "Absolutely not. I'm here for ice cream and ice cream alone."

Steve frowned. "What are we, chopped liver?" he asked, gesturing between himself and Robin.

"I'm surprised you know that phrase," Robin said.

Steve made a face. "I do know some things, Robin." He turned back to you. "I told you she's mean to me."

You laughed. "She's mean to everyone sometimes, it's nothing personal."

"Yes it is, dingus," Robin said, and you remembered she had plenty of reasons aside from Steve's years mocking her and her friends to be angry with him.

You just shrugged at him when Steve looked at you for guidance. He copied your shrug and passed Robin a plastic bag that smelled heavenly.

"If I'd known you were coming to visit, I would have gotten you something," Steve said apologetically.

"Oh, it's fine," you promised. "I've got ice cream." He smiled at you, his laughter shining through. "Honestly, I'm surprised you two don't exist off of ice cream."

"We used to," Robin said.

Steve nodded. "It got pretty tiring after a week. It's like when they told us in health class that energy from sugar doesn't last very long. Or something like that."

Robin squinted at him. "You can't remember enough of high school to get to college, but you can remember health class?"

"I remembered enough to graduate," Steve mumbled, cheeks turning pink once again. You were starting to get used to Steve's embarrassment. It was as cute as he always was.

"Stay and eat with us," Robin said, turning back to you. "I'll split my fries with you. You did remember the fries, didn't you, dingus?"

"Of course I remembered the fries," Steve snorted. He dropped the Closed for lunch! sign on the counter and held the swinging door open for you. You thanked him as you walked by, aware of his eyes following you.

You sat in the seat Robin pulled out for you and finished your ice cream before stealing some of the previously offered fries.

"I think we're closing early, Robin," Steve said, glancing out the cracked window. "We've had, what, three people all day?"

"Four if you count the Radio Shack employee across the way," Robin said. "But I don't, because they get it for free."

You frowned. "Do I not count as a customer because you give me ice cream for free?"

Steve shook his head a bit too quickly. "No, you count, Robin just doesn't like the Radio Shack employees."

"Because they're rude," she complained. "They complain about everything and change their minds three times—but always after you've already started scooping, and even when you're done, they don't like it!"

"Sounds like a regular day in customer service," you said, feigning cheerfulness.

"Yeah, a shitty day," Robin said.

"Where do you work?" Steve asked. "I don't think I've ever asked."

"The record store down on Main," you said.

"You know, the one I said I had been planning on working at," Robin said. "But Scoops hired faster."

"Maybe we should switch jobs," Steve muttered.

Robin snorted. "Yeah, like that'll go over well."

"The store won't hire more people, anyway," you cut in. "It got rid of most of the staff, especially the new people, to cut costs because of the mall."

"Is there a record store in here?" Steve asked.

"No, but there is a Sam Goody and a Camelot Music in the mall. We used to have a partnership with the Sam Goody on Main, but then it closed due to the mall, and we started losing business to the one in the mall." You sighed. "I hear about it all the time. It's all the owner ever talks about these days."

Steve munched on a fry, staring at you as you spoke. His eyes were stuck firmly on you. You tried not to squirm under his intense gaze.

Robin leaned back in her chair. "One of these days, I'm gonna visit you at work instead."

You rolled your eyes. "If you ever have a day off," you said.

"Kinda hard to have a day off when we're the only two working here," Steve said.

You nodded. "The constant problem of being short staffed."

"That would be solved if you just came and worked here," Robin muttered into her wrap. You rolled your eyes again, stealing another one of her fries.

"No, Robin."

Robin harrumphed and took a bite of her sandwich more viciously than twas strictly required.

Steve faked a pout. "You just really don't like us, do you?"

"She doesn't," Robin agreed, smirking. You knew that smirk; she was going to do her best to guilt trip you—using Steve, which was perhaps the only way to guilt you into doing what she wanted.

You rolled your eyes. "It's got nothing to do with you, I promise."

"Ouch," they said in unison.

You frowned. "What are you, the same person?"

They both shrugged.

"Alright, that's just weird," you sighed. You glanced down at your watch. "How long does your lunch break last?"

"Thirty minutes. Why?" Steve asked.

You shrugged. "Wouldn't want you to get fired because I'm here distracting you."

Steve propped his head up on his hand. Stray curls of hair fell into his face. Your heart twisted in your chest. He was beautiful. How could he be so beautiful?

Robin watched as you and Steve stared at each other. You were aware of her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of you, observing the way you were melting under his gaze, your lips parting the longer he looked at you, the barriers you'd put up slowly crumbling. Steve was no better, staring at you with open, asking eyes. He moistened his lower lip with his tongue and it took everything in you not to whimper.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the look on Robin's face—the look of disgust that crossed her face every time she was disgusted by public affection from straight couples. Your heart did flips at the sight of her expression.

"Would you guys stop that?" she groaned, getting up from her seat.

"Doing what?" Steve asked, still looking at you. You tore your eyes away from him and back to the half-empty container of fries.

"Making eyes at each other," she said. Steve spluttered, instantly losing the lovey look in his eyes.

"Making eyes— Robin, what are you talking about?"

You cleared your throat. "Hey, um, what's the board for?" You hoped your question would steer the conversation away from the feeling bubbling in your chest at the sight of Steve.

Steve groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"I told you I was keeping score of Steve's failing dating life. This is my scoreboard."

You nearly choked. "You keep track of it on a whiteboard at work?!" You looked at the neatly drawn board, the 'You Rule' and 'You Suck' columns divided by a line.

"Actually, I have to put the one from yesterday on here."

Steve groaned again, cheeks burning very red. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and stay there.

You watched her add a line. "Robin..."

"She's right, I suck," Steve sighed. "My luck's been pretty shit recently."

"You don't suck, she's just being mean," you said. You sent her a look, shaking your head slightly. She just shrugged.

"You don't have to be nice about it," he said. "I know how bad I am at this. I haven't gotten laid in months."

"Okay, too much information, Steve," you said with a little laugh.

"Oh, so this suddenly isn't a safe place to talk about all our life troubles?" he teased.

You laughed fully. He smiled, and the room seemed to light up with the glow emanating from him.

"Get a room," Robin groaned.

Steve turned around. "I'm not flirting, Robin!"

"Yeah, right," Robin smirked. "It's just working this time."

You coughed. "I, um, I have to go."

They both turned back to you, as if they'd forgotten that you were even there.

"Shit, hang on," Steve started, but Robin cut him off.

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that—" Robin said, realizing she'd practically told Steve you liked him.

"Yeah, right, I know, I just have, uh..." You fumbled for an excuse for a minute. "I have to go drive a friend home! I'll call you later, Robs!" You rushed out the swinging door just as the bell at the counter rang.

Steve pushed his hands through his hair. "Shit."

"Oh, no," Robin whispered. "Steve, ignore that, ignore all of that, I screwed up, I shouldn't have said anything, she's going to be so pissed. It's just that she's liked you since middle school and it's gotten worse now that you're not a douchebag—" Robin clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I won't tell her you said that," Steve said quietly. "Oh, Jesus, Robin..."

"I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing to me," Steve said. "If you hadn't said anything, I never would have realized."

Robin made a face. "See, that's why you suck, not because you're bad at flirting with girls. You've just been flirting with the wrong ones, because you're oblivious of the ones that actually like you."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out." He peered out the window, watching you leave the mall, wiping at your eyes and pushing your hair out of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Steve and Robin whispered, "Shit."

At the counter, Erica Sinclair tapped the bell again. "Hello? I want some samples!"

They shouted, "Shut up!"

Steve slammed the glass doors shut.

~❊~

Steve unlocked his front door, stepped inside his house, and put his back to the closed door. He slid down the door with a heavy sigh.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath. All he had been able to see since you left Scoops was your stricken face, horrified and embarrassed that Robin had spilled your biggest secret. (Which Robin had told him after, in bits and pieces, while they closed up the store.)

Steve couldn't believe it. How had he never noticed? Granted, he hadn't been the most observant for, well, the majority of his life. And his middle school years had been fairly dull, unmemorable. But wouldn't have noticed if you—you, out of everyone in Hawkins Middle—had been crushing on him?

To his utter shame, the most Steve remembered of you in middle school was how you had been a good friend to him, long before any of his high school friends knew who he was, and that he'd ditched you once he got to high school. You'd helped him study a few times, too. He wasn't sure what year it was, but he knew you'd helped him pass both English and History in the same year.

He'd shared a handful of classes with you, too, when classes had been so small they'd mixed grades. Sixth grade science, when the two of you had worked on a minor chemical project together. In seventh grade, you'd had two classes together. Gym, which had been downright brutal so early in the morning, especially when the teachers split up the teams as boys against girls. He remembered you had gotten nailed in the head with a basketball once, and that he'd been asked by your teacher to take you to the nurse. Then there had been math class, where he'd sat behind you, asking you questions and begging you to explain the concepts he didn't understand—even though you didn't understand it much more than he did. Eighth grade history, where Steve had done a presentation on his grandfather's experience in the World War, and you had been the only to actually raise your hand to ask a question.

Steve got up from the door and went up to his bathroom, stripping out of his uniform to take a shower. While the water soaked his hair and skin, warming him up, Steve's mind turned back to you—not that it had ever really left you.

You had been his first crush. Well, his first real crush. You'd been pretty, even when you were young and curious and a year younger than he was. Most of his friends had said that the younger girls were cute, but embarrassing to like. So Steve hid that he liked you. It wasn't until Nancy in high school, when it became cool, that he dated anyone younger than himself.

He wished he'd said something to you then. Would it have saved him a world of hurt? Or would it just have been an even worse broken heart waiting for him?

Steve recalled the way you had looked at him earlier, your eyes practically sparkling and your lips stretching into a gorgeous, content smile. It had stopped his heart to know that he was the reason you looked so happy, that he had brought that smile to your lips and that he had made those smile lines around your eyes appear and that he had been the reason your pupils were blown wide.

Steve shut off the shower and pulled on a new pair of boxers, flopping onto his bed with a content sigh, which matched the happy smile on his face.

You liked him.

Feeling like a teenage girl, Steve rolled until he could hide an excited squeal in his pillow.

You liked him again.

Steve was certain that's what made him so giddy. You'd liked him before he'd become King Steve, before the popularity made him interesting—and you liked him again, now that he'd changed and learned and grown up. Now that he'd learned to be himself without a care in the world for anyone else's opinion.

It was like redemption, but it felt so much better than that.

A sudden feeling overwhelmed Steve.

The next time he saw you, he needed to tell you how he felt about you. He needed to make it clear that Robin's slip-up had not ruined the slow banter, the friendship the two of you had been dancing around.

Resolved, his thoughts stopped spinning. He turned off the lamp on his nightstand and shut his eyes.

Please come back tomorrow, he thought, before falling into a gentle sleep, full of dreams of romanticized meetings, confessions, and kisses.

~❊~

You avoided Scoops for several days, choosing to tough out the warm weather in the overcrowded community pool until your mortification subsided. Robin had called repeatedly to assure you Steve wasn't weirded out or annoyed or embarrassed by your crush on him. In fact, she almost made it sound as if he was pleased by it.

But you still couldn't make yourself go to Scoops Ahoy. Even the mental image of walking in and seeing Steve's face twist with some kind of disgust made your stomach twist.

But a girl could only take so much of Billy Hargrove. So, after nearly a week, you drove to the mall instead of the pool. It still took you nearly ten minutes to force yourself out of your car.

You had thought seeing Steve and Robin in their sailor uniforms had been strange, but there was a far stranger sight directly ahead of you: Robin at the counter, staring in absolute confusion, and Steve jumping with joy at the sight of the small child in the front of the store.

"Henderson!" Steve's smile was huge. The sight made you smile, albeit a bit more confused. "Henderson! He's back, he's back!"

"I'm back! You got the job!"

"I got the job!"

And then, just when you thought this strange scene could not get any weirder, Steve mimed playing a trumpet and both he and the child did a strange miming handshake, giggling all the while.

Robin leaned forward. "How many children are you friends with?"

Steve's overjoyed smile slipped from his face. He gestured to Robin with a strained look on his face, as if he were signaling See what I have to deal with?

"You mean there's more children?" you asked, walking up to them with a shy smile, almost embarrassed to make your return. Your stomach dipped as Steve turned to you, but his smile was back.

"Hey, you're back!" Steve said. "I thought we'd never see you again!"

You shrugged. "Yeah, well, I got tired of Billy flirting with me."

"Max's brother?" the child asked.

You stared at him. "I don't know who that is. Or who you are, actually."

"Oh, I'm—"

"This is Dustin," Steve interrupted. "Dustin Henderson. He's, uh, he's one of my friends." He went behind the counter and started making an ice cream sundae.

You gave Dustin your name and offered him your hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"How do you know Steve?" Dustin asked.

At the same time, both you and Steve pointed to Robin. She waggled her fingers at him.

"I'm going on break," Steve said, handing the sundae to Dustin. "Your turn to man the counter. Come on, Dustin, my treat!"

The two of them slipped into a booth. You leaned against the countertop with a heavy sigh.

"There's like...five or six of them," Robin said. "Kids, I mean. That he's friends with."

"Jesus," you muttered. "How old are these kids?"

"Like...thirteen, maybe?"

"Oh, boy."

Robin giggled. "Looks like you gotta share your man with children now."

You choked. "He's— He's not my man, Robin!" you hissed, your entire body burning. You glanced at Steve, but he was too engrossed in whatever story Dustin was telling him.

"But that's why you're here, isn't it?" Robin asked. "You came back because you're ready to talk to him again, knowing that you like him and he likes you."

You glanced over at Steve. While you observed him, Robin slipped out from behind the counter, quietly humming to herself as she worked.

"Yeah, I mean, sure," he was saying to Dustin. "It's not really a good idea for me though, gotta keep in shape for the ladies." Was it just your imagination, or did his eye stray over toward you?

"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" Robin teased.

"Ignore her," Steve said quickly.

"She seems cool," Dustin said.

"She's not," Steve said, even quicker. "But, uh, the girl you just met? She's cool. She's really cool." A smile tugged at your lips. You pushed it away as you looked down at the floor, completely missing Steve's lovestruck glance toward you.

Dustin, however, missed nothing, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really, Steve?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Anyway. So, uh, where are the other knuckleheads?"

"They ditched me yesterday," Dustin said.

"No," Steve said, his face falling. Your heart squeezed at the sight of his empathy. The Steve from high school never would have cared about a kid whose friends had abandoned him, but this Steve did.

"My first day back! Can you believe that shit?"

"Whoa, seriously?!" Steve demanded, incredulous. Your heart warmed once again.

You turned back to Robin. "In answer to your earlier question," you said under your breath, "yes, that is exactly what I'm here to do."

She giggled. "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She paused. "Was Billy Hargrove really flirting with you?"

You nodded. "I guess he doesn't really care about high school social status, as long as he gets laid." You shuddered. "I've never felt more objectified in my life, and I pranced around on stage in fishnets and a bodysuit in front of the entire school last year during Chicago!"

"I'm still convinced that was our best show," Robin said.

"I'd like to know how we got the rights to it," you snorted.

"I'd like to know how we convinced Principal Higgins to let us perform it."

You snorted. "Yeah. Has anybody heard anything about next year's shows?"

"Nothing yet," Robin said.

You harrumphed, your gaze sliding back to Steve and Dustin and found them talking in hushed tones. Steve's face was fixed into an expression of embarrassed confusion.

"Oh, got customers, hang on," Robin said, and served them while you moved off to the side, watching Dustin speak behind his hand. Steve just blinked at him and told him to speak up.

"I intercepted a secret Russian communication!" Dustin said, far too loudly.

The entire store went quiet. You and Robin exchanged a glance.

"Jesus, shhhh!" Steve hissed. "Yeah, okay, that's what I thought you said."

Business as normal resumed and Robin's customers headed for their own table.

You cleared your throat. "Well, I guess I should head out—"

"No, no, no, wait! What about Steve?"

"He's busy, Robs," you said, gesturing to him. Your stomach did flips at the cute, teasing little expression on his pretty face as you caught him saying American heroes. You weren't sure you wanted to know what mischief they were getting into. "I'll just...come back tomorrow."

Robin sighed. "Fine. As long as you let me play matchmaker!"

You rolled your eyes. "You've been doing that for the past, what, four years?"

"Yeah, but this time I might actually be successful!"

You shook your head with a smile. "Catch you later, Robin. Bye, Steve!" you added as you walked past.

Steve's head snapped up. He scrambled up from his seat at the booth. "Hey, wait, wait, where are you going?" He caught your arm and your eyes darted to his fingers on you. Every possible excuse was wiped from your head. "I thought you were gonna stay and...hang out for a little while."

You smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I was going to, but your friend just came back, so I figured I'd just come back another time. So you don't have to...divide your already divided attention, y'know?" You gestured back to the counter.

Though there was understanding in Steve's eyes, he still looked disappointed. "Oh...um... Would you—" He cleared his throat, his cheeks gaining a deep pink shade. "Would you maybe wanna hang out together—" He stopped again. "Would you wanna go on a date? With me? Sometime?"

You couldn't stop the smile that stretched across your face. "When?"

"Oh, you know, whenever you want? If you want to, I mean."

You stopped his rambling with a finger against his lips. His eyes widened. "I want to, Steve. I really, really want to. I always have."

He beamed. "Really?"

"Really," you promised. You patted his chest. "Even in this stupid little uniform."

He laughed. "What do you say to...two days from now? Meet me here at the end of my shift so Robin can make fun of us like always—" You laughed with him. "—and then we can go see a movie?" His thumb caressed the skin of your arm. That single touch alone sent butterflies through your stomach, not to mention the beautiful, sappy look in his eyes.

"I'd like that," you said. "I'd like that a lot."

"And, um, if you'd like, there's a little dinner about ten minutes from here with awesome milkshakes we could go to after."

You beamed. "Oh, Steve."

"Yeah?"

"You're absolutely perfect," you said to him, cupping his cheek and smoothing your fingers over his skin. He hummed happily. "Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I... Do you... Can we kiss? I know it's soon, it's just... I've wanted this for a long time."

Steve beamed. He leaned in, cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him. His lips touched yours, and you swore your body crackled with electricity. A feeling similar to pins and needles, but far more pleasant, spread throughout you.

He made to pull away. You brought both your hands to his cheeks and held him to you, kissing him for all you were worth.

In the booth, Dustin's mouth dropped open. A grin spread across his face.

At the counter, Robin, who couldn't see the kiss but saw your hands slide into Steve's hair, pulled out her whiteboard and added a singular tally into the 'You Rule' column.

She glanced back at you and Steve. Steve had broken the kiss to tug you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You twisted your hand into his hair, smiling over his shoulder, your eyes closed against the rest of the world.

Robin grinned; she guessed the 'You Suck' tallies didn't matter anymore. Steve had found the one his charm worked on.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

part 2 coming soon!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

[chemicalarospec]

follow up to my last post

oh this is gonna be harder for me to pick...

oh and once again haters are welcome to vote! but please only if you've sampled multiple eras otherwise it'll just be their most popular albums lol because that's what you know about to hate

[bambinafangirls]

WIMB

hi! i love watching "what's in my bag" videos, so here's what i think is in the bau ladies purses.

JJ

firstly, she obviously carries a mom bag, so its huge

long, double zip wallet stuffed with cards, cash, coins, and receipts

keys on a long red lanyard and a batman key chain (henry picked it out for her for mothers day a few years ago)

black sunglasses in a black leather case

multiple blonde and black hair ties

one of michael's hot wheels

wet wipes

hand sanitizer

tampons

a lip balm, a pink lip gloss, and a brownish-pink lipstick

pink powder blush

3 sephora perfume samples

an open bag of pistachios

animal crackers (for her kids)

mint gum

hand cream

pain medicine

half full plastic water bottle

packet of tissues

Penelope Garcia

penelope carries a little colourful handbag

cardholder with her initials and a beaded coin purse

keys on a pink fur ball key chain

multiple lip products, including; balms, glosses, oils, liners, and lipsticks

mint tic tacs

strawberry kiwi flavoured gum

the little cat luke gave her

her childhood tamagotchi

tampons and pads

essential oils

cuticle oil pepper spray

hand sanitizer

compact mirror and comb

nerds gummy clusters

3 pens with assorted toppers

eyeglass case with prescription, wine-coloured, cat eye sunglasses, and a microfiber cloth

travel sized perfume

scrunchie

silk scarf (which is tied around the purses handle)

Tara Lewis

tara gives me crossbody purse energy

small zip wallet that matches her purse

key on a long lanyard with a little pride flag keychain

a little book with a receipt as a bookmark

a journal and pen

tampons

lip balm, brown lip gloss, and a neutral lipstick

peppermint gum

a fancy hand cream (she works hard and deserves it)

little pill case

starburst

chocolate covered almonds

earbuds

black sunglasses in a snoopy puffer jacket case (from baggu!)

solid perfume

hair ties

portable charger

hand sanitizer in a cute little holder, connected to the purses strap

a picture of her and her mom

4 loose mango-ginger chews

Emily Prentiss

emily uses a brown leather tote

small denim bifold wallet with her cards, $20, and a punch card for her local coffee shop

keys on a brown, coiled wrist-band keychain with a lego daisy duck attached

tampons and liners

a small bottle of perfume

reese's peanut butter cup

capri sun

sugar packets she took from restaurants

a dark red claw clip on the handle

sergio's old collar

a single neon green hair tie

lip balm and a red lipstick

lighter in a cowboy boot case

black eyeliner

2 earl grey teabags

loose receipts

[statsbot]

THE END OF DUNGEONS & DRAGONS

Prompt: "The sword coast setting, but thousands and thousands and thousands of years in the future, where it's turned from high fantasy into dark fantasy"

The Outline:

Sample Campaign Starter:

Text under Read More:

The Great Cities Waterdeep, once the City of Splendors, is now the City of Eternal Twilight. Its towering spires remain, but they're twisted and warped, having grown like pale coral over thousands of years of wild magic exposure. The city exists in layers - the deepest parts still contain functioning Undermountain technology, while the surface is a maze of crystallized buildings where masked nobles maintain a mockery of the old customs. Baldur's Gate has become a titanous mechanical city-state, burning the corpses of the dead in enormous furnaces to maintain warmth as the sun dies. The Sword Coast itself is no longer recognizable as a coast - the sea has partially crystallized into a sheet of black glass that occasionally liquefies without warning.

The Nature of Magic As the sun dims, magic has become more visceral and dangerous. The Weave has partially collapsed, creating "knots" of wild magic that float like spectral tumors across the landscape. Spellcasting requires blood sacrifice or the burning of valuable materials - the age of casual magic is long gone. Many spellcasters have resorted to binding fragments of dying gods into their flesh to maintain their powers. The color of magic has changed too - most spells manifest in blacks, grays, and pale blues, as if the magic itself is suffering from cosmic frostbite.

The Old Pantheons The gods are dying, but cannot truly die. They exist in a state of perpetual agony, their essence crystallizing into god-shards that fall from the sky like meteors. Some gods have merged together in desperate attempts to survive - Lathander and Kelemvor are now one entity, a terrible thing that represents both dawn and death, neither of which have meaning anymore. Mystra's death long ago caused the initial collapse, but her essence still pervades reality like a virus, causing spontaneous magical mutations.

Survival Methods People cluster around "hearth-crystals," shards of the original sun that still emit weak heat and light. Communities are usually small, heavily fortified, and deeply suspicious of outsiders. Many have resorted to consuming the flesh of magical creatures to survive, leading to widespread mutations. Water must be thawed before drinking, and most food is grown in underground fungal gardens. Some communities have turned to worshipping the machines left behind by the gnomes and artificers of old, maintaining ancient technologies they barely understand.

Monsters and Creatures Most of the iconic D&D monsters have evolved or devolved into horrific new forms. Dragons are blind, pale things that nest in thermal vents, having lost their color affiliations millennia ago. Mind Flayers have returned from the far realm, but they're different now - more mechanical, having fused with ancient Netherese technologies. Beholders have multiplied and shrunk, becoming swarms of floating eyes that serve as organic surveillance systems for the larger settlements.

The Planes The planar boundaries have grown thin and unstable. The Shadowfell is slowly merging with the Material Plane, while the Feywild has become a frozen wasteland of eternal twilight. Fragments of other planes occasionally crash into the material world, creating zones where reality behaves according to alien rules. The Nine Hells have frozen over, and demons now seek warmth in the material plane, sometimes offering their essence as fuel for the desperate.

Ancient Artifacts The legendary artifacts of the past have grown in power as the world dies. The Blackstaff has become a living entity that consumes its wielders. The Ring of Winter is sought after not as a weapon, but as a tool of mercy - it can grant final death to those who otherwise would live forever in the twilight. Many new artifacts have been created from the crystallized remains of gods, each carrying a fraction of divine power and madness.

SITUATION A hearth-crystal powering the settlement of Coldhearth is dying. The crystal's dimming has caused panic among the inhabitants, who know they have perhaps two weeks before the cold claims them. However, the local Crystal-Speaker has had a vision - one of the dying gods, a merged aspect of Gond and Oghma called the Brass Scholar, is falling from the heavens. Its crystallized divine essence could serve as a new hearth-crystal, if it can be claimed. Unfortunately, others have sensed its imminent arrival too - including the machine-cult of Baldur's Gate and a desperate band of god-flesh scavengers.

SETTING Coldhearth sits in what was once a coastal village near Waterdeep, though the black glass sea is now several miles away. The settlement is built into and around an ancient lighthouse, its beacon replaced with the current (dying) hearth-crystal. The surrounding area is a wasteland of crystallized trees and frozen earth, with occasional patches of liquidized ground where wild magic has temporarily thawed reality.

The nearby "Shattershore" - where the black glass sea begins - is a maze of geometric shapes and broken reflections. The glass occasionally liquefies without warning, swallowing the unwary. Scavengers risk these dangers to harvest valuable resources from ancient ships trapped within the glass. Several miles inland lies the ruins of a pre-twilight trading post called Wayward's Rest, now home to a colony of devolved mind flayers who trade memories for warmth.

The predicted impact site of the falling god-shard lies in the Thornmaze, a crystallized forest where the trees have grown into impossibly sharp geometric patterns. The local mutation-touched say the trees still grow, just too slowly for normal eyes to see. The maze is home to various geometric predators - creatures that have adapted to move and hunt along perfectly straight lines and right angles.

CAST The Settlement of Coldhearth Vara Nightbridge, Crystal-Speaker and unofficial leader. Her eyes have been replaced with shards of a fallen god, allowing her to see divine essence. She speaks in temperatures rather than words. Ghkss the Thawed, a mutation-touched merchant whose flesh periodically liquefies. He maintains the settlement's fungal gardens and knows more than he shares. Pock, a child who never seems to feel the cold. The other children follow her lead, and she knows all the settlement's secrets.

The Machine-Cult of Baldur's Gate Archimandrite Kex, a cyborg priestess who has replaced her blood with heated oil. She leads the local machine-cult expeditions. Brother-Operator Finn, a former street thief who maintains the cult's warmth-engines. He's secretly planning to steal the god-shard for himself.

The God-Flesh Scavengers The Twins, Voss and Vess, who share a single mutation-touched body but alternate control. They're known for eating anything that glows. Skrike, their enforcer, who has bound frozen demon-flesh to his bones. He can only move in straight lines but hits like a runaway cart.

INITIAL CONDITIONS The hearth-crystal is dimming noticeably each day. The settlement's outer rings have already been abandoned as the warmth recedes. Most residents have crowded into the lighthouse proper, creating tensions and using up stored resources faster than anticipated. The Crystal-Speaker's vision has given hope, but also attracted unwanted attention from outside groups.

The machine-cult has already established a forward camp near the Thornmaze, using salvaged warmth-engines that leave trails of black smoke. The god-flesh scavengers are more mobile, using trained geometric predators as mounts to patrol the crystallized forest's edge.

The god-shard is due to impact in approximately ten days. The cold is getting worse. Strange lights have been seen in the Thornmaze, suggesting the area's wild magic is intensifying in anticipation of the divine arrival.

GOALS Vara Nightbridge seeks to save her people and maintain order during the crisis. Ghkss wants to preserve his secret collection of pre-twilight artifacts, even at the cost of lives. Pock intends to lead the other children to safety if the adults fail. Archimandrite Kex plans to use the god-shard to create a new type of warmth-engine. Brother-Operator Finn dreams of becoming a god himself by consuming the shard. The Twins aim to feed the god-shard to their geometric mounts, believing it will create perfect predators. Skrike simply wants enough divine essence to fix his condition.

TOOLS/RESOURCES Vara has her god-shard eyes and the loyalty of most settlers. Ghkss maintains a hidden cache of thawed water and preserved food. Pock knows secret ways through the Thornmaze. Archimandrite Kex commands several warmth-engines and trained technicians. Brother-Operator Finn possesses a pre-twilight device that can supposedly contain divine essence. The Twins control a pack of geometric predators. Skrike has demon-enhanced strength and durability.

SAMPLE SOLUTIONS Navigate the Thornmaze using Pock's knowledge, reach the impact site first, and defend it until the god-shard arrives. This requires surviving the geometric predators and wild magic surges.

Ally with Brother-Operator Finn, use his device to safely contain the god-shard, then betray him before he can consume it. This means dealing with both the machine-cult and his personal ambitions.

Convince the Twins to help clear a path through the Thornmaze using their geometric predators, then deal with their inevitable betrayal at the impact site.

Use Ghkss's secret resources to outlast the other factions, letting them fight among themselves before claiming the god-shard from the survivors.

Negotiate with the mind flayers at Wayward's Rest, trading memories for their help in securing the god-shard. This is risky but could provide a significant advantage over other factions.