#How to trade failed breakdowns

[signode-blog]

How to Trade the Failed Breakdown (Bearish Trap)

In technical analysis, the concept of a failed breakdown ��� often called a bear trap — is one of the most powerful reversal patterns that traders can capitalize on. A failed breakdown occurs when price action breaks below a key support level, lures in short sellers, and then quickly reverses to the upside. This trap can lead to strong short-covering rallies and presents high-probability trading…

[mimokome]

She Didn’t Want a Choice. She Wanted to Be Chosen.

Arcane S1 Ep. 9: Jinx’s Table Test — Emotional Breakdown File #1

Core Emotion: Trust, Identity, and Needing to Be Chosen Time Stamp: 24:30–35:00 (Netflix)

I’m not claiming this is canon or fact. This is just how I read it. What I felt. What landed — and what didn’t. Everyone brings their own scars to a scene like this.

To whoever’s reading this — thank you for your time.

Scene Setup

Jinx starts the scene loud and messy — same as always. But it’s not just chaos. It’s a setup. Everything she does has a purpose, even if it looks unhinged.

She drags Vi and Caitlyn to the table and lays out the two chairs: “Powder” and “Jinx.” And without directly saying it, she’s begging Vi to make the one call no one else ever has: Choose me. All of me. Not the version you miss. Not the one you want to fix. Me.

Vi tries to play it soft. Keep it safe.

She says the right things, but not in the way Jinx needs to hear them. She won’t commit. She won’t pick a side. And Jinx can feel that hesitation in every word.

Caitlyn’s gagged — present but powerless.

Jinx messes with her, sure, but it’s not really about her. Caitlyn is the test. She’s Vi’s new world. The part of her that isn’t Zaun anymore.

Jinx sets her up under the tray and waits. Lets the silence build. Lets the pressure rise.

Then she lifts the lid. Vi lunges. Jinx looks for a reaction — and gets a half-baked one.

She pulls out the Hextech gemstone — her wildcard — but says nothing about it.

Caitlyn breaks free, grabs Jinx’s gun, and turns it on her. Vi pleads, caught in the emotional middle — begging Caitlyn not to shoot, begging her to see reason.

Jinx watches them both. Still. Quiet. Testing with every word, every glance, every twitch of her smile.

And when it’s clear Vi won’t choose — won’t make the call — Jinx knocks Caitlyn out.

She was measuring. Who’s flinching? Who’s posturing? Who’s trying to fake their way out?

Silco starts talking. Tries to hold the room with words. Tells Jinx she meant something to him. That he wouldn’t have given her up.

But she remembers what he said. She’s not stupid. He already admitted he would’ve traded her.

And when he reaches for the gun — that’s it.

The illusion shatters. All the talk about family. About choice. About trust. Gone the second he goes for control. Just like everyone else.

So she pulls the trigger. Not because she wants to. Because she’s tired of not being chosen.

Silco was the last one she thought might actually ride for her. And he failed. Like Vi did. Like everyone else has.

When it’s done, she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t break. She just makes a decision.

Fires the Hextech into the council. Not because it’s strategic. Not because it’s smart. Because she’s done begging for answers from people who keep hesitating.

She gave them a choice. They didn’t make one. So she did. "She didn’t want to be fixed. She wanted to be chosen — as-is."

This scene isn’t just chaos — it’s Jinx cracking open. She’s trying to figure out if anyone actually sees her, not who she used to be or who they want her to become.

She’s not looking for a fix. She’s looking to be chosen — for someone to look her in the eye and say, “I still want you. As you are.”

The whole setup is her final test. One last shot to see who’s real, who folds, and who’s still lying to themselves about what they’re willing to do for her.

What Was the Intended Emotion?

Everyone at that table thinks they’re doing the right thing. That they’re handling Jinx the way she needs to be handled.

But none of them actually see her — not in the way she needs to be seen.

Vi thinks she’s protecting her. She’s soft with her. Careful. She won’t say “Jinx” and she won’t say “Powder.” She’s trying to let Jinx feel safe without committing to either version.

But Jinx doesn’t need safety — she needs certainty. Vi’s gray area just feels like another rejection. Another person who can’t pick a side. Can’t pick her.

Caitlyn thinks she’s staying out of it. But she doesn’t get it. She’s used to rules, structure, clear outcomes.

So when Jinx starts playing with her, Caitlyn doesn’t know how to respond emotionally — only tactically.

She’s smart, but she’s blind here. She doesn’t see the trap Jinx is setting, and that makes her look weak. To Jinx, Caitlyn’s not a threat. She’s a stand-in for everything sterile and distant about Piltover.

Silco was never gonna make the “right” choice, because betraying her was never on the table.

He’s been watching over her since she was a kid. He doesn’t know how to be a father — he knows how to lead, to control. That was his version of protection.

But even then, you can see it: he had a soft spot. He gave her freedom when it wasn’t required. That wasn’t strategy. That was care — just twisted by the only language he knew.

Even when he said he’d “give her up,” I don’t think Silco truly meant it. I think he had a plan — some twisted hope of saving her after the fact. That’s the kind of love he showed: warped, selfish, but real in its own way.

His bond with Jinx is unshakable because he gave her structure when no one else would.

He thinks his love — twisted as it is — is still enough. But love that comes with conditions? With expectations? With control? That’s not love to Jinx anymore. Not after everything.

And the second he reaches for the gun, he proves what she feared most: Even he doesn’t trust her.

They all came to that table thinking they could save her. Fix her. Reason with her.

But all she wanted was for someone to look her in the eye and say, “You. I choose you. No rewrites. No hesitation.”

None of them could do it. So she burned the whole table down.

Why Does It Hit?

This scene hits because it’s not a villain moment — it’s a heartbreak moment.

Every move Jinx makes is calculated. She’s learned from Silco after all these years. She’s not spiraling. She’s setting up emotional traps. She’s testing everyone in the room:

Will Vi commit?

Will Caitlyn flinch?

Will Silco try to control her again?

Here’s the part that gets missed a lot:

When Jinx shoots Silco, it’s not just because he reached for the gun. It’s because she believed he was going to choose control over her.

She’s projecting. That trigger pull isn’t based on what Silco actually does — it’s based on what she thinks he’s about to do.

Her fear. Her trauma. Her constant sense that everyone is just one second away from turning on her. That’s what she’s firing at. Not Silco. Not really.

This isn’t the first time she’s done it.

Jinx has been trained — by loss, by abandonment, by silence — to expect betrayal. To brace for it. So even when someone might not hurt her, she assumes they will. Because they always have.

Vi left. Vander died. Silco lied. Every person who’s said “I care” has followed it with “but…”

So when Silco reaches for the gun, it’s not the motion that matters — it’s what it represents.

Another choice she didn’t get to make. Another person deciding who she is and what she needs. And even if Silco wasn’t going to shoot, the damage was already done.

Her fear had filled in the blanks.

The sound design? Underrated.

It’s not loud. It’s tense. The way the lighter clicks, the crows outside, the kettle boiling in the background, and that eerie quiet when everyone’s holding their breath — you feel it more than hear it.

The average viewer might just see a wild girl with a gun. But if you’re paying attention?

It’s Jinx begging someone to finally pick her. Not to fix her. Not to calm her down. Just to say: “Yes. You, right now, are enough.”

Rewrite That May Have Hit Harder

Silco should’ve slid the gun toward her and said: “It’s always been your choice.”

That line. That moment. That gesture — giving her the power without control — would’ve made her final decision feel like ownership.

She wouldn’t be reacting. She’d be choosing, fully. And that would’ve crushed us.

Final Thought

Jinx didn’t snap because she’s unstable.

She snapped because she was cornered — again. Because the people she loved most couldn’t give her the one thing she needed: To be chosen. Without conditions.

She gave them a chance. Put everything on the table — literally and emotionally.

And when they hesitated — or tried to control the outcome — or couldn’t just say what she needed to hear? She made the choice for them.

That’s what this scene is. It’s not about chaos or madness. It’s about what it does to a person when they keep reaching out and no one ever reaches back.

That feeling of having to be your own answer when no one else will give you one.

That’s why it hits.

Disclaimer

All rights to Arcane, its characters, and related imagery belong to Riot Games and Fortiche. This is a non-commercial analysis intended for educational and commentary purposes.

About Me

I’m not a polished writer. I’m not an industry name. I’m just an emotional dude trying to figure out where the hell he fits. I feel shit — deep. I pay attention. I watch people. The way they move. The way they speak. The pauses they don’t mean to make.

I care about what’s underneath — what’s real, even when they don’t say it out loud.

I value emotion — raw, unfiltered, ugly, honest. The kind most people hide. I want to bring that out. I want people to see the parts that get ignored.

Because whether it’s on purpose or not, most people only look skin deep.

You don’t know what someone’s been through. But if you actually understand where they’re coming from — even for a second — it changes everything.

That’s why I’m here. That’s what this is for.

Written by: Jordan Waltz

[eternal-sunflowers]

Too Muchson

now on ao3 :) wc: 12.8k relationships/characters: established steve harrington/eddie munson, mentions of the whole party (that includes argyle), wayne munson, jim hopper, joyce byers, benny cw: health/medical talk, mentions of POTS and fibromyalgia and related symptoms, breakdowns, brief mentions/allusions to child abuse, self-hatred on eddie's part, victim blaming (eddie to himself), panic attack, self-deprecation (again, eddie)

summary: three years after the events of the battles with vecna, eddie faces a multitude of growing health issues, namely (currently) POTS and fibromyalgia. the government offers free medical care at the trade off of being able to test treatments on eddie (this is alluded to but not fully discussed). eddie struggles with his health issues, feeling helpess in his own body, which brings up the trauma of growing up as al munson's kid. steve is the best boyfriend and is there to work eddie through his multiple breakdowns after a short grocery shopping trip.

there is lots of angst, but also much comfort. happy endings only in this household. <3 see the end for more notes. enjoy! this is my first fic, pls be nice :)

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Eddie feels so much guilt. So much guilt constantly. Over how Steve cares for him, without fail, every second of every day. Steve never complains. Never bats an eye. Never shows any frustration. Any sort of anger towards Eddie. Partly, it drives Eddie insane.

Mostly, it makes Eddie fall more horrendously in love with him.

Eddie’s feeling that guilt today as he slumps into the passenger seat of their car, tossing his head back with a small groan, waiting for Steve to finish returning their cart. His heart pounds against his tightening chest, sending his breathing ragged. He rubs his hands down his face, scrubbing at his bangs stuck with sweat to his forehead, letting out a frustrated growl, before he slowly breathes, in 2 3 4 5, hold, out 2 3 4 5, like his doctors never failed to fucking remind him. One of these days, they'll be able to go to the grocery store without it making Eddie feel like he was going to have a fucking heart attack. Somehow pushing a cart through Melvald’s or Walmart was the most strenuous activity his body could imagine, which is funny considering how he spent most of ‘86. 

He's grumbling to himself about ‘weak’ and ‘can’t even push a cart’ and ‘should’ve left me’ when Steve slides into the driver's seat, his warm hand reaching over to one of Eddie's own, pulling it gently away from his face, rubbing smooth circles against the top of his palm. Eddie merely grunts in response, vaguely registering the sound of the engine turning over, of the AC kicking on and the vents being clicked toward him, of their car slowly reversing before he peeks out from the hand still resting across his eyes to wearily gauge Steve's face. 

Eddie was always scared that he'd open his eyes to find Steve's face finally giving up on him.

To see exhaustion prickling Steve’s eyes and his easy smile contorted awkwardly and angrily in a way Eddie'd only seen it in alternate dimensions or when Steve had a particularly bad migraine. At the very least, Eddie expected the annoyed scrunch of brows and slight frown that was reserved for Dustin when the kid wouldn't shut the hell up. But none of those faces were ever directed at Eddie. Not even when they had their minor arguments. The most Steve's face ever cracked to give him was an eye roll and a disapproving glare when Eddie's hand was elbow deep in a bag of chips while Steve was cooking them dinner. 

Still, Eddie always braced for it. He was used to seeing the faces of those he loved or who were meant to love him just giving up. Downturned lips and squinted eyes and tight jaws and everything but the easy joy with which Steve always looked at him. 

Really, he just expected Steve to give up on him any day now. Everyone else in his life had, save for Wayne, but the old man really didn’t count in that regard. Wayne was somethin’ else. Obligated to love him, sure, but determined as hell to make up for the shitstorm Al had left behind. As a kid, Eddie was convinced Wayne was some kind of superhero, something that still hadn’t lost its luster, even after meeting El. Some things, only his Wayne could do, after all.

Well. And now Steve, too, since Wayne apparently started giving him lessons in how to care for Eddie’s miserable ass. God, what did he do to deserve these fucking angels in his life? Eddie couldn’t even go to the goddamn grocery store without his body replaying its best rendition of a few miles around the Hawkins High track, let alone offer Wayne and Steve anything good in return for the many ways they continued to save his fucking life. 

In the midst of his internal storm, Steve's hand slides down to turn Eddie's wrist up, two fingers pressed to his pulse – a position Steve had taken easily to over the last couple of years. He faintly hears Steve counting out beats under his breath, his other hand tapping on the wheel, eyes scanning the lot as he works toward the exit. After a few seconds, Steve's easy smile droops slightly, a tick down at the corners, his hand slipping down the wheel to hit his turning signal. Eddie's stomach lurches at the change in Steve's expression. 

Here it comes.

Steve is finally giving up on him. 

Just a few more notches downward to the expression Eddie had braced for from everyone since he was 5 years old.

Just a few more ticks of his expression to reflect Eddie's biggest fear. 

His biggest fear used to be dying in this small ass town with nothing to show for it, but after facing the end of the world multiple times, his fears of his own mortality seemed to not be as important as his fears of losing the people he loved -- more specifically, now, losing Steve. He bites his lip, too scared to break the silence, and too weak to fight. 

"I can practically hear you catastrophizing over there, babe. I promise we're fine." Steve soothes, keeping his fingers on Eddie's pulse, gently squeezing and throwing a sidelong smile as he turns out on the road....in the opposite direction of their apartment. 

Yeah.

Fine.

Eddie coughs, leaning against the window, smushing the side of his face into the palm Steve wasn’t branded to to keep his face half-hidden. "We uh....why aren't we....um…” Another cough. “Why are we, um, we…” A sharp intake of breath.

Followed by another, and another, as Eddie’s mind reels.

As he starts replaying the grocery trip to pinpoint every misstep and everything he fucked up.

As he thinks about every joke he made and every look Steve gave him in the store, twisting them to show disgust rather than love.

As he starts thinking of all the ways that Steve is surely, finally, about to break up with him. 

Because surely that’s what’s happening. What other reason would Steve have to not be heading back to their apartment right after getting groceries? The only thing of any import this way is Wayne’s, and Eddie knows what that means.

Eddie knows that means his ass is hitting the dirt walkway up to Wayne’s door while Steve drives out of his life forever.

Eddie spirals, thinking of all the ways that he was finally too much for perfect Steve Harrington. Of how Steve is going to kick his ass out in Wayne’s yard with so little as a “good riddance” because Eddie couldn’t be assed to get his fucking health in order for a 20 minute grocery trip that he swore to Steve he felt okay enough to go on. 

And really, he did. He felt great before they left – well, as great as he could feel now. But still, he promised. He swore he was fine because he was. And then, a half hour later, he’s practically passed out in the passenger seat, trying to will his heart to chill the fuck out and stop being such a dramatic bitch. To tell the rest of his nervous system that they’re fine, that they just went to buy some goddamn eggs and milk, not off to fight Vecna 3.0, so could you please chill the fuck out and drop back to a respectable heart rate and nervous system response?

If he couldn’t be expected to say he was fine and then stay fine, how could Steve expect him to ever be reliable? 

How could Steve expect him to keep any promise ever?

How could Steve expect Eddie to mean it when he says he’ll love him for the rest of their cursed lives?

He knows he’s working himself up. He gets that, logically. But brains are nothing if not illogical, especially when all his blood is decidedly fucked off elsewhere in his body, seemingly leaving his brain to fend for itself with nothing but toppled milk crates and spilled papers and a dozen different Eddie’s in various states of disarray to take the reins. 

“Eddie? What’s wrong, babe?” Steve shoots a concerned look over, his fingers soothing over Eddie’s pulse. “Hurtin’?”

Eddie nods jerkily in response, his chest still heaving with fear, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

“C’mon, baby, breathe for me, okay? Your breathing exercises. It’ll help.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S too hard.” He squeaks out between shaking breaths. “Too…too many steps.”

Steve hits his blinker and pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. He shifts the car into park, leaving his lights flashing, before turning toward Eddie. “Lemme work you through it, sweetheart. I can count ‘em out for you.”

Eddie vigorously shakes his head, quickly shooting out his free hand to grip the door handle, squinting his eyes shut, cursing under his breath as his head starts spinning. 

“Hey hey hey, take it easy, baby. Pull your legs up under you and keep your head still. Movin’ ‘ll only make the spinning worse.” Steve soothes, reaching his hand not wrapped around Eddie’s wrist to rest at the nape of Eddie’s neck, gripping firmly, pressing his thumb and forefinger into the skin there to help ground Eddie’s swimming head. 

“‘M sorry.” Eddie whines, feeling more like the failure he knows he is as he pulls his legs up into his seat, leaning his forehead against his knees, wrapping his free arm tightly around them.

Steve’s brows furrow slightly. “Shh, no sorries needed, but you gotta breathe for me.”

Eddie tenses under Steve’s hand, barely restraining from shaking his head again. He grits his teeth instead, the shaky breaths continuing to rasp too quickly through his lungs. “No – no counts.” He swallows thickly. “‘S too much. Please.”

“Okay, baby.” Steve adjusts with insurmountable ease, a well-decorated soldier in the war on Eddie’s body against itself. “Just follow the taps of my fingers if my voice is too hard to follow. We don’t gotta talk while we do it, just please, lemme count your breaths for you, yeah?” Steve doesn’t wait for a response – just starts tapping and pressing out the counts into Eddie’s wrist, in 2 3 4 5, a long press to hold, then out 2 3 4 5, hold. 

After a few moments, Eddie begrudgingly follows Steve’s count, working to slow his staccato breaths to match the metered pace Steve sets. A few minutes tick by. He turns, watches Steve’s lips silently count out the breaths for him, watches how easily Steve just takes control to let Eddie relinquish the stress of figuring out what to do. He lets himself be grateful for it here in this moment – a rare bout of indulgence. 

Eddie thinks of all the times Steve’s been in a similar position, helping keep Eddie’s head screwed on and his body taped together with an ease that was honestly a bit frightening. It was like Steve was crafted perfectly to cater to every single need and issue and want that Eddie had, and Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s gotten any better at hiding his awe at that, or at even really accepting that, over the last few years. 

Eddie is nothing if not stubborn, after all. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Doing so good.” Steve croons, locks his concerned, but loving eyes with Eddie’s tired, panicked ones. His thumb soothes against Eddie’s neck. He smiles sweetly, bringing Eddie’s wrist to his lips for a gentle kiss to his pulse point. “Feelin’ any better?”

Eddie hums, blinks a few times. Steve stares expectantly, his eyebrows raising slightly. Eddie rolls his eyes, knows Steve’s obsession with vocal confirmations – and understands it, really, after all the shit they’d endured, because Eddie was just as insistent on them when the roles were reversed. He goes to speak, his voice cracking hoarsely in his suddenly too-dry throat, leading him to a few sputtering coughs. He feels the warm pressure on his neck release at that, an action that causes him to lean back toward where it retreated, to whine before he can bite his lips to stop it. Steve chuckles softly, squeezes his wrist, and murmurs a quiet “‘M still here, baby” to soothe him while he leans into the backseat, rustling around in the bags there.

A moment later, a cool bottle is being pressed gently against his knees, an expectant look on Steve’s face when Eddie doesn’t grab it immediately. “Drink up.”

Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut, tossing his head back dramatically, the sound of his voice crackling slightly at the dryness of his throat. “Don’wannaaaa.” He manages to croak out in what sounds like nothing more than a blob of unrecognizable noises, but Steve is well-versed in Eddie at this point. 

“I know, but it’ll help.” Steve presses it more firmly into Eddie’s knees.

Eddie keeps his head back, leaning his body back against the seat. “Noooo.” 

Steve scoffs. “Whiny little bastard.” 

Eddie smirks at that, revelling in the easy banter, in the mirth in Steve’s voice. He glances over to find Steve’s eyebrows canted up behind his bangs, a slight smirk to his lips, a little more life and joy to his eyes to replace the concern from before. Eddie feels the edges of a soft smile pull at his lips in response. He’d do anything to keep Steve happy, to keep him from being concerned about anything ever.

“Fine then.” Steve drops Eddie’s wrist to the seat gently, but not before placing a gentle kiss to his pulse point once more, much to Eddie’s delight. Then, Steve brings his hands together to crack open the Lemon Lime Gatorade slowly beading condensation. He brings it up to Eddie's lips, locks their eyes again, his smirk deepening as he lets a deep, commanding “Drink.” slip into the air between them. 

Eddie feels something tight within him relax. He lets his lips fall open, nodding slightly for Steve to slowly tip the drink into his mouth. The cool liquid rushes in, coating his dry throat as he swallows a few tiny gulps. He closes his eyes, a tiny moan escaping his lips from the pure relief the drink gives him – one he wasn’t even aware he needed. 

“That’s my good boy.” Steve praises, just as commanding as before. 

Eddie shivers in response, tilting his chin against the bottle to signal Steve to take it away, which he does immediately, capping the bottle and setting it in the cup holder with a soft thunk. 

The two had developed such an easy, unspoken language between them that might honestly be rivaling the one Steve shared with Robin – much to Robin’s (mostly) fake chagrin. She lamented endlessly that it wasn’t fair, that only she got to share that connection with Steve, always tracing it back to the summer of Scoops and Russian torture. “I’m just saying, we really broke some boundaries there bleeding out together in the bunker.” 

Steve always replying, “Oh my god, Robin, you were never bleeding out, stop lying to Eddie to make him feel bad!” before smacking her with a pillow. 

Eddie laughing, “Yeah, Buckley, if anything that means that I have a stronger claim to the mind meld than you do, lest we forget my stint in the ol’ Upside Down as a bit of roadkill.”

“Oh, don’t you start!” Steve yelling in response before launching a pillow at Eddie’s face. “Can’t you two just agree to share me equally so we don’t have to keep reliving the trauma of our pasts every time one of you gets slightly jealous of the other.”

“Long as I get the dick part of you, sweetheart.” Eddie would grin, eliciting several “ew, ew, ew, ew, ew”s from Robin, before they all dissolved into a pile of laughing, clingy limbs, the hauntings of their pasts forever melting them together as one.

Steve’s hand reaches up and rests against Eddie’s cheek. “Better?” 

“Yeah, much.” Eddie lolls his head to the side, opening his eyes to gaze softly at his boyfriend. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes soften as leans forward to press a feather-light kiss to Eddie’s lips. Eddie hums eagerly beneath him, chasing Steve’s lips as he pulls away, eliciting a small chuckle from Steve. “More time for that when you’re not feelin’ like shit. You wanna tell me what’s wrong, now?”

Eddie feels a handful of answers boil up his throat, most of them too honest, so he swallows them down, lands on a, “Jus’ a flare, I think.”

Steve furrows his brows. “A flare…”

“Yeah, jus’, the heat and all got to me I think, but I’m okay.”

Steve chews his lip, brows still furrowed as he takes in Eddie’s words. Eddie holds his breath, tells his brain to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t break down over the same fucking bullshit again, leaving Steve to pick up the pieces. Again.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his face going lax, all the furrows gone without a trace. “Sweetheart, are you sure?” Steve leans forward, cards his free hand through Eddie’s hair, tangling in the curls. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, Stevie. I’m okay. Jus’ wanna get home and spend the night with you and Robin.” Eddie smiles, presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to try to stop the sob from jumping out of his throat into the space between them.

“God, I bet she picked out another horrendous film one of her campus buddies made, didn’t she?” Steve crinkles his nose at that, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

Eddie chuckles, the sob slipping back down into the cavern in his chest. He slips his tongue out, wets his lips. “Yeah, I’m honestly a bit stoked to figure out why she picked it. I could use a winning week.”

Steve leans back, surreptitiously slipping the half-drunk Gatorade into Eddie’s hands. “Finish this for me.”

Eddie looks down, momentarily perplexed at the shift, before throwing his head back with a groan. “Ugh, do I have to?” He slips his legs back into the footwell, uncapping the drink and holding it against his cheek, the condensation cool against his heated skin.

Steve turns forward in his seat again, shifting the car into drive and adjusting their lights back to normal before merging back onto the road. He reaches over to grasp Eddie’s free hand loosely. “It’ll help. And, we’re almost there, too, so you’ll be feelin’ even better in no time.”

Right. Eddie shoots back into his body, Gatorade half-raised to his still-parched lips, aware again of how they’re not going in the direction of their apartment – how they’re not heading toward the place they call home where Robin is waiting with another trashy film for their regular routine movie night. 

No, they’re driving away from it. 

So, logically, the only other place they could be “almost there” to is Wayne’s. But, they didn’t have any plans, and they have groceries in the back, so, again, logically, the only thing this means is Steve’s hit his limit and Eddie is being kicked into Wayne’s yard. 

Again.

Eddie cringes as the thought hits him full force again, wants to jerk his hand free of Steve's calming grasp, his lungs tightening in response. He pulls the Gatorade away from his lips, grip tight on the bottle as he plunks it in the cup holder, yellow liquid sloshing up the sides vigorously. His stomach sours, replaying the last 10 minutes where Steve doted over him, nothing but love in his eyes, but now he was carting Eddie away just as easily as everyone else ever had. 

If this is it, if this is the end, Eddie doesn't think he could bear any final touches that masqueraded as care. It makes it that much harder when the person pretends to care as they throw Eddie into Wayne's yard with disgust. That had already happened one too many times for Eddie's liking, so he just stopped letting people get close. Much easier that way.  

That was, until spring break of ‘86. Kind of hard to shut everyone out who’s trying to show they care when the whole rest of the town is hunting him with literal pitchforks and torches like they were in some off-brand horror film. 

Though, with the alternate dimension spewing out flesh monsters and viscera, he supposes it was technically a higher budget horror film, the kind that went for the practical effects, but whatever. 

He couldn't really keep everyone out when a gaggle of freshmen showed up to save his ass with Buckley and Harrington and Wheeler in their posse. Buckley, sure, he guesses he could see her helping – nerds and geeks stick together. Wheeler? Maybe, on a good day, but only because Mike was one of his new freshmen sheepies, so he supposes he was in Nancy’s good graces for saving her brother from the hell of high school social networking. But, Harrington? The King himself? Yeah, right. That one he couldn’t rationalize, which is why The King ended up pressed against a wall with a bottle against his throat, blood thrumming in Eddie’s ears, pure panic and hatred and fear plastered on his face, before Dustin of all people talked him down, swearing Steve was here to help, that he was a good guy. Eddie only let him go after meeting Dustin’s eyes, after seeing the pure honesty on the kid’s face, throwing him back to every interaction over the last, like, 7 months with the kid talking his ear off about how “cool” and “great” and “badass” Steve Harrington was now.

None of the group crowding the boathouse made any sense together, none of the whole situation made any fucking sense, but nothing had made sense since that first morning before he left for school, before Chrissy fucking Cunningham seeking him out for help of all people, before his trailer became a certified crime scene. In that moment there later on in Rick’s boathouse, Harrington and his gaggle of misfits coming to his aid was only the second most unbelievable thing he’d experienced in Hawkins, the first only happening some hours prior, so he had supposed he wasn't exactly in a position to choose his saviors at that moment. 

3 years later, and that same gaggle of misfits had fully absorbed him, barreling through his walls and holding him up and fighting for him to be a free man. 

3 years later, and Steve Harrington himself had persistently chiseled even deeper through his defenses, pouring his molten honey love in to fill in the cracks of Eddie’s soul, some of the cracks much much older and deeper than what the Upside Down had left on him.

Some of them still gaping in his chest, prickling his insides like nettle, telling him that Steve Harrington would always be too good for him. 

That Eddie would always be Too Much. 

And that thought finally sends him over the edge, because it always boils back down to here, doesn’t it?

“AreyoudumpingmeoffatWayne’s?” Eddie finally gets out in one big breath. He heaves with it, the feel of it dragging sharply against his vocal chords. His throat feels like it’s on fire, his body aching all over from effort. The panicked breaths start to scratch their way up again, tearing at the calmness Steve had instilled in him only some short minutes prior.

"What?" Steve whips his head round, eyes wide in confusion. "Why would I--?"  Steve’s eyes linger on the crease in Eddie's brow, the shiftiness of his eyes, the way his teeth worry against his perpetually chapped lips. Steve sighs, gripping Eddie's hand tighter, ping ponging his gaze from the road to his sulking boyfriend. His voice slips, a touch of shock and sadness? "I'm never going to just drop you off at Wayne's like that, babe.” He clears his throat, lowers his voice, still strong and sure, but softer, less pitched and full of determination and love. “Not unless you want to, and even then, my ass would be sitting there, talking to Wayne to find a way to help. I’d stay my ass on his porch all day and night trying to help. He wouldn’t be able to get rid of me.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand. “But otherwise, you're always coming back home. To our home. With me." He looks over, softness taking his features. “I’m not giving up on you, Eds.”

A few silent beats pass, the only noise the hum of the AC, of the tires on the asphalt, carrying them further and further away from their apartment, from their home. Eddie's knee vibrates with every passing second, his foot kicking at the dust in the footwell, his gaze stoically locked out the window, his thumbnail shredding between his teeth, the memories of every time his ass hit the ground leading up to Wayne’s trailer clouding his brain, flimsily shielding him from Steve’s promises.

"You know that, right, babe? You know I’d never leave you, right?" Steve whispers. “That you’ll always be coming home with me?” He squeezes Eddie's hand softly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. Eddie's hand twitches in response, betraying his own anxieties, aching to curl tighter around Steve’s. Aching to feel the warmth seep deep into his bones and blanket the fire burning beneath his skin. “Talk to me?”

The tightness in Eddie’s shoulders drops slightly, a slight breath falling from his lips, the shield fracturing. “I’d hardly call our 2nd floor walkup a home, Stevie.” Eddie chuckles mirthlessly. “You kind of have to have the whole picket fence, driveway, multiple bedrooms and bath–”

“Eddie.” 

“--rooms, a yard to corral the inevitable horde of pets, a grill set out to be Mr. All-American every weekend with the kids, perfectly manic–”

“Eddie.”

“--ured lawn, obviously, because god forbid you let the Wheeler’s outperform you in the realm of lawncare. I don’t think Mike’d ever let ya live that one down. Then again, he might not care as much–”

“Eddie.” Firmer this time, with a squeeze of the hand to match, as much of a pointed look as Steve could muster while still driving.

A beat passes, then another, before Eddie sighs, the shield crumbling away, letting Steve’s words crawl into the cavern in his chest, radiating warmth in the void. He quietly breathes out, "Yeah.....yeah, I know." His hand not tangled in the strong, warm fingers of his boyfriend finally drags down his face to settle across his lap. “I know.”

"I promise, sweetheart. You're not getting rid of me." Steve pulls their hands up to his mouth and brushes his lips delicately over the taut skin of Eddie’s knuckles. "Gonna take care of you forever."

Eddie scoffs. “Forever, huh? You sure ‘bout that, Harrington?”

“Most sure I’ve been about anything in my life.” Steve responds immediately, his voice holding that strong, steady baritone Eddie’d come to love.

“Damn, quick to draw there. Don’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“You know I don’t.”

Silence takes the car after that. Eddie festers in it, keeps his gaze down, his free hand fiddling with the loose threads at the hem of his shirt, his other staunchly locked in Steve’s, sending red hot shockwaves through his body. They’d had this conversation, or some variation of it, countless times. Eddie knows Steve means it. He knows Steve holds to his word. 

He knows Steve loves him. 

Yet still, Eddie continues to retreat to this any time he feels frustrated or defenseless in his own body – the way his health issues and trauma make him feel constantly. Though, he knows that with Steve, he couldn’t ever push it as far as the gaping holes in his chest screamed for. He couldn’t bear to hurt Steve intentionally. He’d rather die.

He’d always found it easier, even before all the Upside Down shit happened, to push against the barriers of his relationships to see where he could form cracks. Everyone always had a weak point that he could leverage, that he could stick a chisel into and start hammering. A way he could build an escape route. 

If Al taught him anything, it was to always go into a place knowing where the exits were, and to never let yourself be somewhere that didn’t have at least two ways out of it. 

That was one of the things that scared him most about loving Steve Harrington. There was only one way out of it – a way that Eddie couldn’t bring himself to fully commit to anymore, a devastating way he hadn’t ever really entertained past the first few weeks of disbelief that this relationship wasn’t some cruel prank. A way he honestly couldn’t even see at this point, so far out of the realm of possibility that it didn’t even ping on his radar. 

But always a way he expected Steve to take against him someday – though Eddie’d never hold it against him – because loving Eddie was harder than fighting all the extra-dimensional terrors they’d faced together, so he always made sure there were plenty of exits for Steve to leave him.

It was easier to try at the start, to try to push Steve away, to show him all the ugly parts of himself. There was plenty in his past to make anyone take one look and deem him Way Too Much to handle – a fact that had gotten him called “Too Muchson” or some variation of it on so many occasions growing up that Eddie damn near forgot it wasn’t his actual name. 

Then, with ‘86 came even more shit to pile on his already “Too Muchson” pile, so he thought it’d be easy enough to scare Steve off. Easy to scare Steve off with all his injuries laying him out for months in bed. With all the doctor’s visits and diagnoses being thrown his way as ‘86 wrapped. Easy to prove to Steve that even a friendship with Eddie wasn’t worth the cost, so why even bother with anything more? 

Steve never bought it for a second – instead, he started driving Eddie to his appointments, no matter how far away they were (and god knows the government made him fucking drive for them, the bastards). 

Started holding his hand on the drives and filling the car with easy conversation and updates about the kids when Eddie was too anxious to talk. 

Started popping by Wayne’s more to help around the house, surprising Eddie when Wayne didn’t grumble about it, but rather handed Steve a key over breakfast one morning after the 5th or 8th visit and told him to come on in whenever, as long as he planned to stay, which Steve promised to do. 

Started bringing Robin over every weekend to have movie night since he knew Eddie struggled leaving the house at that time, enlisting her to start a trend of chaotic movie choices, forcing the boys to guess the reason she picked the movies, with whoever chose correctly by the end of the night winning music and lunch choices for the next week. 

Started pouring every ounce of his love and kindness into Eddie with no expectation of anything in return, apart from Eddie continuing to get up and keep trying day after day, to not give up. 

If Eddie’s being honest, he has no clue where or when or why Steve decided he was worth loving in any capacity. He knows that he was a fucking mess, especially at the beginning, what with all the doctor’s visits, and the way he could barely leave bed for close to a year due to the pain. Still, Steve never made him feel worse for it, never made him feel like a freak for the things wrong with him that he didn’t yet have the diagnoses and definitions for. 

No, Steve showed up during those moments and cared for him so easily that Eddie couldn’t help but fall in love with him. 

Eddie comes back to the present with Steve’s thumb clumsily wiping at Eddie’s cheek through the tangle of their fingers, smearing damp across it. Eddie jumps, letting out a quiet yelp, pawing at his cheeks to find tears streaming down them. "Shit, sorry, I’m fine, I just--"

"Shhh, don't apologize.” Steve grips his hand tighter, shooting a tiny glare out the corner of his eye, pointedly raising their hands higher, flicking his pointer finger out to press against Eddie’s lips when Eddie goes to open his mouth again.

“But–”

 “Stop it. Right now.”

“But Ste–” 

“Nope.”

“Steve, I’m so–” 

“Zip it. No apologies. None. You did nothing wrong." 

Steve pulls into Benny's, swinging into a parking spot right in front of the door, pointedly using his hand not pressed against Eddie’s mouth to awkwardly shift the car into park and unbuckle his own seatbelt before turning in his seat to face Eddie, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Can I talk now?” Eddie grumbles out against the pad of Steve’s finger.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “That depends, are you going to try to apologize to me again?”

Eddie shifts his eyes. “...maybe.”

“Then no.” 

Eddie huffs. He’s very aware that he could just…pull their hands away from his mouth himself, but he doesn’t. He knows the point Steve is trying to make, and Steve knows he knows, the annoying little shit. No apologies allowed for feeling your emotions, idiot.

“You just gonna hold my mouth hostage all afternoon in front of Benny?” Eddie nods his head in the direction of the door, though his eyes never leave Steve’s.

“I’m gonna keep my hand right where it is if you intend to keep apologizing to me when you’ve quite literally done nothing wrong – not today, or yesterday, or honestly ever, so.”

Eddie laughs, his lips sliding against Steve’s finger, his tongue aching to slip out and lick, but refraining. “Ever?”

Steve smiles, all lips stretching across his tanned cheeks, little bits of teeth poking out. “Yeah, ever. You’ve not done a single thing wrong in your life, Eddie, ‘s far as I’m concerned.”

“Not even the drug dealing?”

“Nope. Call that,” Steve waves his other hand through the air aimlessly. “Entrepreneurship?” 

“Bah, sure. Hopper’d beg to differ.” Eddie knows that isn’t true, though. Knows Steve knows it isn’t true, too. Thinks of how many times Hopper hauled his ass out of the woods and told him to “go home, Munson. Wayne’ll be worried.” before sending him off with a stern glare. Thinks about how Hopper could’ve easily locked him up for a night any of those times, but how he kept letting Eddie off the hook because he was buds with Wayne, the two of them going fishing and hunting and whatever else old guys hardened by the war do in their pastimes together. 

“I’ll move if you tell me what’s really bothering you.” Steve whispers out, his finger gently brushing against Eddie’s lips. “I know it’s not just a flare.”  

Eddie looks over to find the beautiful smile that was on Steve’s face moments ago replaced by a tenseness, his eyes crinkled at the edges, his lips slightly chapped with worry, stuck tightly together. He swallows down the warring in his chest, swallows down the parts of him aching for Steve – aching for Steve to patch him up and fix all the leaks in his armor like he always does. Squishes down all the fear and anxiety and sadness boiling inside of him. Instead, hums against Steve’s fingers, quirks his lips in his best imitation of a smile, “‘M fine.”

Steve raises his eyebrows slightly. “Crying in the car and thinking I’m going to kick you into Wayne’s yard without so much as a glance back doesn’t exactly scream fine, babe.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head toward his lap, away from Steve’s prying gaze. He knows it’s a losing battle – that Steve will whittle it out of him eventually, probably sooner than he wants. But, fuck, Eddie is so tired of making all of his problems Steve’s problems. He’s tired of not being able to handle his own damn shit. He survived an evil wizard and a town full of angry homophobic jocks hunting him down, so why can’t he just fucking get a handle on the mundane shit like his health and his anxiety and everything else in his fucking brain, spilling out of the milk crates? It really isn’t that hard. Eddie just is too weak or broken, he guesses. But, that isn’t Steve’s problem, so he keeps his lips clamped shut, willing whatever supernatural shit still waving through the universe to just let Steve drop it and let Eddie learn how to bottle it all up better so he doesn’t burden anyone anymore.

They just sit there like that for a couple of minutes, the car idling, silence festering, the AC blasting full force at Eddie finally enough to make him shiver slightly. That’s all it takes for Steve to relent with a sigh, pulling his hand away to lower the AC to a much more manageable level. Eddie licks his lips, the taste of Steve faintly there, feels the loss of Steve’s warmth deep in his bones. 

Steve pulls his hands together, takes in a deep breath, breathes it out slowly, flexes his fingers, fidgets with his nail beds in a way that makes Eddie’s heart ache since he knows it’s a shitty habit that Steve picked up from him. Steve turns his eyes up, locking onto Eddie’s with determination. “Are you okay, Eddie?”

Well, fuck you too, supernatural energy of the universe. Can’t ever cut a guy some slack, can you?

“Why are we at Benny’s?” Eddie turns, looks out the window through the glass of the front doors, making eye contact with Benny behind the counter, the man smiling and waving at him. Eddie manages a small smile and head nod in response.

“You’re deflecting.”

“Benny’s waving at us pretty intensely. Kind of looks like a doofus, honestly.” 

“Eddie.”

Eddie grits his teeth, feels those late nights with Al creeping into his subconscious, the well-practiced venom slipping sharp around his tongue before he can stop it. “I’m fine, okay. Just fucking drop it, will ya? Geez.” 

Steve sighs. Eddie turns at the noise, his face falling as he catches the sadness in his partner’s eyes, feels a pang in his heart knowing he’s the cause of it. He stammers, trying to find a way to fix it, broken “I’m sorry”s falling from his lips. A slight grumble falls out of Steve’s lips as his hand falls to the door handle. “‘S fine. I’m picking us up some dinner.”  

Eddie scrunches his eyes, confusion taking his face as Steve turns, opening his door, stepping out of the car. "Dinner? But we just went shopping! We didn’t buy all those groceries just to waste ‘em." 

Steve huffs, turning around as he stands out the driver’s side. "And you need salt and carbs right now." He leans down, arms on the top of the car, letting his torso and neck stretch as he kicks his foot out behind him, the sadness in his eyes spreading to his smile. "I'm not gonna let you suffer in silence like you're so prone to do. I know you’re hurting. More than just the physical pain from shopping, but I s’pose the food will at least help make it a little bit better right now.” Steve shrugs slightly, a brief trace of uncertainty taking his face. “‘Least I hope so, it usually does."

Eddie huffs, tries to ignore the ache in his chest at Steve knowing exactly what he needs in this moment, and every other moment, honestly, even when Eddie’s a dick to him. He crosses his arms tightly across his torso. "I told you, I'm fine."

Steve chuckles, a glint to his eyes. "Yeah, you are, babe. Fine as hell." Eddie groans, mutters of “stop it” and “oh my god” filtering through, which makes Steve’s sad smile a bit more happy. "But you're not okay right now. So, I'm gonna get you your usual and we're gonna go home and probably watch some god awful movie that Robin picked out and have a quiet night in while I take care of you." 

“But–”

At that, Steve shuts his door, effectively cutting off Eddie’s protests, then smacks the roof of the car twice like some middle aged suburban dad, shooting fingers gun through the windshield, before spinning around and sauntering into Benny's. Eddie watches him, chuckling to himself at Steve's over exaggerated walk, his hips bopping this way and that, before he leans over the counter talking to Benny. 

“He’s such a fucking dork.” Eddie mutters to himself. 

He watches Steve for a moment, watches how his hands gesture and his foot kicks the ground while he talks to Benny, how Benny laughs and nods along like they’re old friends, which Eddie supposes they are after Benny being the one to find El first all those years ago now. Eddie thinks it’s crazy just how many people in this town knew about the goddamn horror dimension for years and still decided to stay here – especially after the ground fucking cracked open like the ice breaking on the lake at the first signs of spring rolling in. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.

Though Eddie himself is still here, only a couple years since it all finally ended, so who’s he to judge, really.  

He knows that once Steve comes out with their food, that they’ll go home and set up on the couch, probably with Robin if she’d made it in yet, to watch some horrid movie she picked up on campus. He knows that he and Steve will have to talk later, that Steve won’t let him fester in his emotions. He knows that Steve will hold him, will let him complain about the pain, both physical and emotional. He knows Steve will offer his shoulder to soak Eddie’s tears. He knows Steve will do it all without any complaint, will offer him love and support and kindness and make all the rough edges from the day smooth out.

Eddie knows Steve will pour all of his love out in their shared bed, shouldering all of the pain if Eddie would let him. 

Eddie will never let him, though. 

Steve’s been through too much – way too much – before Eddie even really knew him. He can’t bring himself to add to that pain more than he already does, to give Steve anything more to be concerned about. Besides, it’s not like Steve can actually fix any of the issues, and Eddie already complains “Way Too Muchson” as it is, so he’ll just bear it on his own. 

Steve deserves a partner who’s simple. Simple to love and simple to care for. Simple means less emotions. 

He can do that. 

He can be less.

Eddie knows he’s far from being simple in any aspect of the word, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try if that means selfishly keeping Steve. 

God, he feels like such a fucking dick. 

Eddie slumps low in his seat, covering his face with both hands again before screaming all the breath from his lungs. His chest still aches, but it’s settling a bit, though his heart is still firing off far faster than it should. "Fuck. Chill the fuck out, Munson. You’re fine. Get your shit together for once and stop spiraling." 

He reaches down and pulls the lever to let his seat recline. His legs find their home curled up beneath him as he leans back. He lays there, working through his breathing exercises, focusing on the low hum of the car’s engine and the faint sound of stray cars passing on the thoroughfare. The words of his doctors tumble through his brain, telling him to “focus on happy thoughts” as if he was on some after school special. Eddie had honestly grown sick of all the platitudes they threw at him. He’s sick of being told that yoga and good vibes will fix the very real and very wrong illnesses he’s started stacking like legos. It’s not like you can “good vibe” your way out of a heart attack – but, at least with that, they know how to treat it. They have no fucking clue what POTS or fibromyalgia even is, really, and Eddie is exhausted from being the government’s personal test dummy for treatments. Hell knows he grew up as a test dummy, or some nights punching bag, for Al’s bullshit. He guesses “test dummy” deserves a slot on his resume now.

Still, the nagging part of his brain that sounds a hell of lot like Wayne tells him that “mopin’ around and stewin’ in those thoughts of yours won’t do ya any damn good,” so he might as well make the hellhole of his brain a little less “toppled milk crate” and a little more “pillow fort” in nature. Eddie sighs, grumbles out a quiet curse at Wayne.

He tries to focus on calming thoughts, happy thoughts – thoughts that had honestly become more common and easier to call on in the last few years. They start playing through his mind like previews. 

Wayne coming home from a late night shift, taking a seat by Eddie on the porch, reaching a hand over for a cigarette. The two sitting in silence, enjoying the early morning air from Wayne’s new porch, comforted by the scent of nicotine swirling around them, close by the Hopper/Byers household. Wayne reaching his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing them together, his calloused thumb on his free hand coming up to wipe the stray tears streaming from Eddie’s eyes, a gruff “Proud of ya, son.” bobbing out around the cigarette dangling from his chapped lips. 

Steve’s face lazily smiling at him over syrupy pancakes and coffee at their kitchen table every morning, music softly playing on the record player. Never a quiet moment in their home after everything, everyone’s tapes and records stacked up neatly just in case.

Robin walking through Family Video, rattling off whatever films she was determined to force him and Steve through that weekend, while regaling him with whatever drama had trampled through her college the last few days.

Joyce and Hopper pulling him aside one night as Wayne was getting set up in his new place, the gaggle of kids and adults moving boxes around. Joyce squeezing him so hard, whispering fiercely into his ear, “You will always have a home with us, Eddie. You and Wayne both.” Hopper’s hand coming down firm on his shoulder, a nod passing between them like it had so many nights before out in the forests of Hawkins, but this time Hopper’s words coming out, “We love ya, kid. You let me know if anyone, and I mean anyone, in this town gives you any shit. You’re a free man now.” Eddie’s face wet with tears, a relief spreading through his bones, the only response he could manage a small nod and smile, a tiny “Thank you.” before falling into their outstretched arms.

Dustin taking up the Hellfire reins at school and asking him for pointers on each new campaign idea and NPC development, scoffing at Eddie’s suggestions, telling him how they would never work. Eddie still catches him making notes the whole time.

Teaching himself how to skate so he could help Max relearn after it all ended, though she constantly bitched at his form and balance in front of the others, only to hug him and whisper “thank you” once they took off alone.

Teaching Mike how to play guitar, though the kid seriously struggled with rhythm at first, but made up for it in rock solid determination.

Will timidly coming out to him before most of the rest of the group and asking him for advice, Eddie being the first openly gay man the kid had met, which broke Eddie down to tears quicker than the demobats had.

Erica calling him for rides more often than Steve, which she swore was because Steve was “too soft looking” and “ruining her street cred,” though Eddie started suspecting she just really really liked hanging out with him, a statement she once punched him for with a soft glare and sharp turn of her mouth and a “you wish, Munson” before fiddling with the tape deck to “put on some real music.”

Making a pointed effort to show up to all of Lucas’ games throughout the rest of the kid’s high school career, something which Lucas constantly told him he didn’t have to do, that Eddie was forgiven for ever making Lucas choose, even though he always sought out Eddie’s face in the crowd, a massive grin taking over his features every single time they made eye contact.

Lazy afternoons in the grass with El, picking dandelions and daisies, showing her how to braid them through her hair, El’s smile radiating stronger than the sun bearing down on their sweat-slick skin. Giving her a chance to be a fucking normal kid for once, something she always hugged him and thanked him for. 

Days in the library with Nancy, their unofficial book club meetings every few weeks when she made the visit home from college, swapping theories and final thoughts and sharing recommendations, alternating their picks.

Nature walks with Jonathan, helping him frame shots for his portfolio, trading stories about their fucked up dads, Eddie finally feeling an inkling of understanding from another kid in this town.

Hell, even Argyle, who came to visit often enough that, one day, he just never left, shacked up at Jonathan’s, so Eddie took him around town to his favorite spots, talked to him about California life, found comfort in Argyle’s relaxed attitude and warm smiles and casual acceptance of all the shit the world had thrown at them. 

He plays over so many good memories that had left the last few years bursting at the seams, barely contained in Eddie’s fragile body, mingling with all the horror, both spilling through the cracks in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, another nightmare rattling through him, when Steve reached over and grabbed his hands, soothing him quietly, assuring him it was okay, that it was over now, then telling him to share a happy memory, and listening to him talk about whichever of the party he’d recently been with, what they’d gotten up to, watching the tension release from his shoulders, the creases in his brows smoothing out, his voice getting quieter and words getting further apart before he drifted off to sleep.  

Eddie feels the corners of his eyes wet, so many tears unshed, so many good memories, so much pain bottled inside, boiling beneath his skin, constantly threatening to spill over, getting closer and closer to the limit every day. He refuses to break down in front of anyone – in front of Steve or any of their friends. Too tired of being a burden in their lives. Too many times being chastised for it, told he was weak and a disappointment when he let the tiniest bit show.  

He hears Al’s voice creep in, bellowing down the hall of their trailer, the wallpaper yellowing and fraying at the edges. Sees himself scrambling to hide his journals under the mattress, grasping for the closest ball, spinning it in his hands as Al stumbles in. Feels the spittle of Al’s rage hit him just before the rough leather boot lands against his thigh, knocking him over on the floor. Feels the tears prick his eyes, his arms tightening around his middle, as Al–

A soft rapping on the window behind him, followed by a muffled click of the door handle being pulled, brings Eddie out of his head. He sniffles, swallows down the rage and fear that were taking over the happy memories of his real family. 

He feels Steve’s warmth before he sees him. 

Eddie basks in Steve’s gentle heat, inhaling the air he brings with him – soft vanilla, woodsmoke, a bit salty from the sweat of the day, mixed with that of the food, of salty fried potatoes, grilled meat, toasted bread, and… “Strawberry?” Eddie twists to the side, peeking out from under the arm draped across his face. 

Steve chuckles, knees crouched as he places an armful of to-go boxes in the backseat carefully, under the recline of Eddie’s seat. “You and that nose of yours, Munson. I swear you missed a calling as a hunting dog or somethin’.” 

Eddie snorts. “That requires too much runnin’ for my liking. You know I’m too attached to sittin’ on my ass for anything like that.” He pulls his arm down, allowing his full attention to direct towards Steve, the corner of his mouth ticking down slightly. “Besides, I’ve done enough runnin’ for a lifetime. I’d rather not do it ever again.”

Steve meets his eyes, a soft, sad smile on his face. “Yeah, me too.” He reaches his hand out to brush some stray curls back from Eddie’s face, his hand cradling Eddie gently, thumb rubbing against the corner of his eyes, picking up the damp left there. He opens his mouth, closes it briefly, worries his lip between his teeth, before murmuring a tentative, “You okay, sweetheart?” 

Eddie leans into Steve’s touch, nuzzling his cheek deeper into his boyfriend’s hand. He takes a moment to stare, to really take in the man crouched in front of him, this pure adonis of a man with the evening sun dropping behind him, casting him in soft pinks and yellows, softening and blurring the edges of his face. He takes in Steve’s soft smile, the way the plush of his lips spills at the edges, how the space between his brows is soft and relaxed, how his eyes stare back, slightly crinkled at the edges, full of unrepentant adoration and softness and care. Eddie thinks about how no one has ever looked at him like that before Steve, how he isn’t sure he even deserves it, knows he doesn’t deserve it from Steve, but fuck, if he isn’t greedy enough to take every scrap of it he can get it, storing these images away deep in the recesses of his brain, in a folder in a toppled over milk crate labelled “Too Good for Eddie Munson,” just in case the day ever came he had to live without the man before him.  

“Just thinking, ‘s all.” Eddie murmurs. 

Steve reaches his other hand out to wrap around Eddie’s forearm, slowly dragging up and down. “You wanna talk about it right now?”

Eddie knows that Steve, however begrudgingly, would continue to drop the topic for now as he so often does – even though he’d been doing so at what must be a worrying rate for him in the near hour they’d been gone from home – but will bring it up again later, coaxing Eddie to let out his emotions, or at least however much of them Eddie was willing to let slip. Never all of them – just small spills here and there when the pressure got to be too much.

And fuck, if the pressure wasn’t overwhelmingly too much these days.

Eddie lets a small smile slip, the pot of his emotions starting to boil over at the edges, splats of water fizzing violently beneath his skin. “Thinkin’ ‘bout how you’re too damn good for me, Harrington. What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

Steve scoffs. “What’d I ever do to deserve you is a better question?” 

“Ah, well, my running theory is that you’re permanently cursed from years of otherworldly fuckery, so you’ve been sentenced to loving me. Probably one last,” Eddie throws his hands up, wiggling his fingers and smirking, “fuck you from Vecna himself. That’s the only thing that makes any sense to me.” He settles his hands back in his lap. 

Eddie means it as a joke, he thinks, though he knows there was a bit too much truth to his tone – a bit too much of a grimace when he said it. 

Steve stares at him, blinks once, twice. His eyes scrunch together, his lips turning down slightly, and – ah, there it is. It’s not quite the ultimate disappointed expression Eddie was waiting for, but it certainly isn’t a happy one. It’s more like a kicked puppy than anything else. 

Yeah, definitely kicked puppy. 

Eddie feels the cracks in his chest festering at it, the darkest crevices singing out their praises, greedily grasping at the expression to deepen the chasm within him. He feels a sick sort of pleasure from it. This is familiar – the hurt on the face of someone he loves. This he knows how to navigate easier than hope and love, even if the pain of seeing Steve look at him this way screams wrong in his brain.

“Is that–” Steve huffs a shaky breath. “You think loving you is a curse?” Steve whispers. 

Well, fuck.

Faintly, he hears Al’s voice calling out to him, telling him “good job, son.” And isn’t that something? That settles like lead in his stomach, bile roiling in his throat. He clamps his teeth together, sure the grinding of them echoes over the hum of the engine.

Steve soothes his thumb across Eddie's cheek once more.  “Sweetheart, loving you is the easiest and best thing I’ve ever done.” 

Eddie can’t help it. He laughs at that. A quick and wet throaty chuckle that makes Steve jump a little, makes his brows furrow. “Why are you laughing?”

“Stevie, nothing about loving me is easy. Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

And, well, if that doesn’t just shatter Steve’s heart on the spot. You’d think Eddie just threw all the kids into the quarry with the way Steve looks at him. But the thing is, Eddie’s telling the truth. He knows loving him is hard. He’s seen it in Wayne, how the man has grown so much older and more exhausted since Eddie was kicked into his yard years ago. Thinks about how much better Wayne would be without him in his life every single day. Thinks about how Wayne may have even found someone to settle down with if he didn’t have to take care of Al’s biggest mistake. Fuck, it’s all he thinks about – how much space he takes up in the lives of those he loves, especially now with how much worse he’s gotten in health.

Eddie knows loving him is hard because he hasn’t even tried since he was a kid, since the 5th or 8th or 12th time his dad told him to “stop being such a sissy writing about your feelin’s and go throw a fuckin’ football or some shit.” Shit sticks after a while. Fuck knows he couldn’t even pick up a notebook to write anything, not even school notes, until he’d lived with Wayne for at least a year, finally learning one night while reading on the couch, hearing Wayne hang up the phone with a sigh, watched him sit next to him, grunt out “Al’s locked up tight this time, kid, ‘m sorry. You’re stuck ‘ith me for a while.” That let a breath out of Eddie he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, feeling like he could breathe the easiest he had in a decade, a single tear spilling over his young eyes as Wayne gripped his knee tightly.

“Eddie. Oh, baby, come here.” Steve leans forward from the rear door across the reclined seat, wrapping his strong arms across Eddie’s chest awkwardly. Eddie stiffens in his embrace, lets out a small “what?” at Steve’s affection. 

Steve whispers into Eddie’s chest, rubbing his arms up and down in a soothing motion. “I love you so much, sweetheart. So. Much. ‘S the easiest thing I’ve ever done, I promise.” 

Eddie tenses, grumbles against the bunched up shirt on Steve’s chest, arms fidgeting at his sides. He aims for deflection, trying to suppress the raw emotions dangerously clawing their way up out of the chasm in his chest, aching to soak up Steve’s love greedily. “It was a joke, Steve. I’m fi–”

“I swear to fuck, if you say that you’re fine one more goddamn time, I am going to drive down to Wayne’s so we can talk some fucking sense into you.” 

Eddie laughs at that, a deep belly laugh, the air rumbling through his chest, into Steve’s haphazard hold on him. Tears prick the lower lids of his eyes and he tilts his head back into the headrest, willing them to just absorb back into his eyeballs or something, anything to avoid Steve seeing him cry again today. “Y’all teamin’ up on me now?”

Steve squeezes his rumbling chest, voice strong and steady. “If that’s what it takes to get it through your thick skull that you’ve got people who care a whole hell of a lot about you, then yes, obviously.” Steve’s hands soothe against his skin. “I’ll get the kids rounded up for it too. Stage a whole intervention.”

Eddie blinks up at the ceiling of the car, grown rough and scratched after years of carting children around. He follows one of the slight tears in the fabric, thinks about how Steve 4 years ago would’ve lost his shit at it, probably would’ve yelled at who did it and made them pay for it even though he was swimming in the monetary “love” of his parents.  

He thinks about how Steve now is so different – how Steve now didn’t bat an eye at Max when her skateboard nicked the roof as she jumped in. Eddie aches over how scared she’d looked and how she immediately spewed out a series of “I’m sorry”s and “I’ll fix it”s – he knew where that fear came from. But, he thinks over how Steve now shrugged her off, told her it wasn’t a big deal. Eddie thinks about how that was at least a year ago now and the tear was still there with a tiny smiley face and a “-Max” written beside it like she was signing a work of art. 

Eddie bites his lip, sucks in a sharp breath. “Hurtful. My skull isn’t that thick, Harrington.” 

“Could’ve fooled me with the whole ‘loving me is a curse’ bullshit, man.”

“I’m just sayin’, you spent enough time breathing in that fucked up dimension, you were bound to be cursed with somethin’. It’s not out of the realm of possibi–”

Steve starts to pull back at that, a short “Wayne’s it is, then” falling from his lips, the cool air hitting Eddie’s stomach viciously as his shirt rides up. Eddie grasps desperately at Steve’s arms, clinging to them like his life depends on it. It honestly feels like it does in that moment.  

“Wait.” Eddie murmurs, his fingers bruising in their grip on Steve’s arms. “Please. Don’t–” Eddie stumbles, the boiling emotions thick and wet in his throat. “Just…hold me. Please. Don’t–” He swallows thickly, whispers out, “Don’t leave.” He feels Steve’s chest take in a sharp breath, feels him melt a bit.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Steve winds his arms around Eddie’s middle, squeezing their chests together. 

Eddie knows Steve’s back must be aching from this angle, but he can’t bear to let him go. He feels like if he lets Steve go right now, the pot will finally boil over and all his messy emotions will rush out of him with nowhere to land. 

He swallows them down thickly, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s chest, inhaling deeply, basking in the woodsmoke and vanilla that follows him around. They stay like that for a while – Eddie’s face buried in Steve’s chest, Steve’s strong fingers rubbing soothing patterns against the strip of Eddie’s back peeking out from where his shirt rode up. 

Eddie feels a few more drops splatter chaotically out of the pot, searching for a place to land.

Eddie squeezes his eyes as tightly shut as possible, trying to minimize the damp that aches to fall from them. He keeps his face smushed tightly into Steve’s chest, his mouth pressed into the wrinkles of Steve’s t-shirt, hoping it would muffle what he was prepping to say enough. After a few moments, croaks out a quiet, “’M sorry I keep fucking up, and that…that all my health shit is getting worse.” He takes a steadying breath, sniffles lightly into Steve’s crinkled shirt. “And that I’ve got too much shit trauma makin’ it all worse.” A beat passes. “But, thank you. Thank you for…for takin’ care ‘f me so well.” He’s not even sure if Steve hears him, kind of hopes he doesn’t, while a smaller part of him hopes that he does. Because if Steve did hear him, then that means he’d put together what was going on well enough so Eddie wouldn’t have to say so many words in explanation later. 

Hopefully. 

Probably not, but hopefully.

Eddies ventures a bit quieter, “I love you, Stevie.” 

He loves Steve so much it hurts – hurts more than all the demobats ever did, than his father’s hands grasped around his weak body, or all his health issues do now. 

God, he loves Steve so much that it radiates through every fiber of his being, thrumming loudly in his veins.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Steve responds quietly. Eddie gasps a bit, mild parts shock, mild parts relieved. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much.” Steve takes a deep breath, presses a kiss to Eddie’s stomach. “You’re never too much f’ me. God, I can’t get enough of you.” A few more lazy kisses pepper against Eddie’s stomach. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m gonna take care of you forever. All of you.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s chest tight at that, knocking a slight umph out of Eddie, a few tears spilling over from the force of it.

Eddie laughs a bit, hiccups into Steve's chest, the damp taking over his cheeks, clogging up his throat, his mind replaying “You’re never too much f’ me” over and over and over. 

 “You take care ‘f me just as well, too.”  

“‘S easy when you're so pretty to look at, Stevie.” 

Steve groans in response. “I'm trying to be sweet, you dick.”

Eddie smiles, bites his lip. “Well, you are pretty close to my dick now, so you could be sweet ���n–”

“Oh my god shut up, you heathen.”

Eddie laughs louder at that, feels the edges of the cavern in his chest knit a little further shut as a few more tears stream down his cheeks, feels a little lighter than he did an hour ago, a little more himself. Steve joins in, their laughs together making what might be the most beautiful sound Eddie’s ever heard.

Eddie pulls up one of his arms, quickly wipes his nose off on his sleeve, smearing his tear-stained cheeks with his palm, before he pushes against Steve’s chest, prying his boyfriend off of him. “Now, didn’t I smell strawberry? You holdin’ out on me, Harrington?”

Steve is still laughing slightly as he extricates himself from his awkward stance, quietly pressing a kiss to Eddie’s lips as he retreats to standing again. He stretches back a bit, leaning to the side until a soft pop echoes into the car, followed by a small grunt. “‘M not sweet enough for you, honey?”

“Oh, you are, but you’ve brought my other true love into the mix: strawberry.” Eddie grins, a manic thing, his cheeks tacky with dried and fresh tears that can’t seem to stop popping out from the boiling mess in his chest.

Steve quirks his head to the side, his eyes squinting slightly as he stares at Eddie’s still wet face, as he watches the near-imperceptible sniffles as Eddie tries to regain his composure. “You know we’re not done with this conversation, right? Like, you know I’m not gonna let you say all of this, be so,” Steve sighs, “so cruel to yourself, without fully talking it out to figure out what’s hurtin’ you, help make sure you’re alright? You aren’t getting off that easy, Munson.”

Eddie smirks. “Actually, I’ll have you know, I get off quite–”

“Bup bup bup! Stop. You know what I mean. No jokes, no laughs, no get-out-of-jail free card.” Steve holds his gaze firmly, eyebrows scrunched together, one hand crooked in his hip. “We’re gonna talk more later and I’m gonna make damn sure you know how fucking much I love and adore every goddamn thing about you. You’re stuck with me. Forever. No matter what you tell me about your past or your present or your future. For. Ev. Er.”

Eddie’s smirk falls as Steve carries on in front of him, his emotions suddenly wholly and completely vulnerable on his face as he stares up at the love of his fucking life. He watches Steve rant above love and forever, watches his hand flit through the air, pointing at Eddie, shooting fire under his skin. Eddie’s sure his face is full of love and adoration and fear and pain. And he’s sure that Steve sees it all and isn’t the least bit fucking scared – a fact that scares Eddie even more, hasn’t stopped scaring him over the last few years. 

Eddie feels the ache deep in his chest, the boiling beneath his skin growing louder, near knocking the lid off the pot. He knows it’s inevitable, has known for years now. Knows he can’t keep hiding away sectors of himself from Steve, can’t keep shielding him from the ugliness inside of him, the pure pain and exhaustion from holding up the remnants of his protective barrier, weakened from decades of performances and, more recently, years of fighting his own body to keep moving.

“Later. Promise.” Eddie whisper-nods, feels the tears hot and heavy on his cheeks again, but keeps his hands fidgeting in his lap, lets them exist in front of Steve unbidden. He quirks his lip up, “I really do wanna see what Robs brings back to show us, first. I miss her.” A beat passes, Eddie’s face shifting to a look of horror. “Oh fuck, did you get her dinner too? Shit, I can go grab it if–”

“I got her dinner too, babe, don’t worry. All safe and secure behind your pretty little head.” Steve smiles, a full face one, a sight that knocks the breath from Eddie’s lungs.

“Fuck me, Harrington, you’re gorgeous. Who the hell lets you just walk that smile around like that? Fuckin’ lethal weapon, jesus.” Eddie sputters out, his eyes sparkling with tears and love.

Steve just laughs, reaches up on top of the car, brings a too-pink drink back down with him, condensation beading aggressively down the sides after baking in the late afternoon sun for however long. “Here, take a sip. Courtesy of Benny. Sorry ‘s a bit melty.” He offers it up to Eddie’s lips, straw already poised and ready, crooked to the side because of-fucking-course Steve got bendy straws like the fucking charmer he is.

“Fuckin’ bendy straws.” Eddie mutters before greedily taking a sip.

“Still top ten.” 

Eddie smirks, mind drifting back to one of their first dates-not-dates at Benny’s. Thinks of Steve, exasperated, as he asked, “How can you not love bendy straws, Munson? They’re easily top ten best straws to exist.” Thinks of himself, leaned across the booth opposite, head lolling to look at Steve dead on, barely hiding a smile as he replied, “I’m not even sure there are ten different types of straws, but please, do go on.”

Eddie pulls away, swallowing down the perfect mixture of vanilla and strawberry chunks. He smacks his lips loudly, grinning lazily up at Steve. “Ya know, you never did tell me your whole top ten. I still think I won that debate.”

Steve smiles, his eyes crinkling beautifully at the edges. He licks his lips, biting the bottom gently. “Hmm, well, I landed in bed with you that night, and the next night, and the next, and basically every night since, so I think I’m the real winner after all.”

Fuck, Eddie is such a goner. 

Steve laughs seeing Eddie’s jaw go slack, his eyes mooning wide. “'M gonna get in so we can head home and meet Robs, ‘kay?” Steve leans down, sticks the shake into Eddie’s hands, presses a kiss to his forehead, before retreating, shutting the door, circling the car to slide into the driver’s seat. 

Eddie sits up, fixes his seat and gets buckled back in. He looks up, catches Benny’s eyes through the door again, sees the old man’s brow furrowed. He raises a tiny wave and smile in response. “Ah shit, Benny saw my breakdown. I don’t think I can ever show my face here again.”

“Benny saw a hell of a lot worse in this town. Seeing you cry in the parking lot is nothing.”

“Alright, damn, Harrington. I see we’re back to joviality, are we?”

Before Steve can respond, a tap hits the hood of the car, making both boys turn to look. Benny stands there, a shy smile on his face, a bag of food in his hand. He rounds to Steve’s window, waits for it to roll down, leans his head down a bit. “Hey, uh, thought y’all might ne–want to try out a new recipe f’ me.” He sticks a bag through the window into Steve’s arms, the smells of even more fried food carrying through.

“New recipe? Really, Benny?” Eddie smiles. “You could jus’ say you saw me out here cryin’ like a baby and that you wanted to help through the powers of greasy food.”

“Munson, my food is not greasy. You take that back right now. I don’t care what kind of breakdown you’re having.” Benny’s stern voice carries across the console, his finger pointing over the edge of the window at Eddie. 

Eddie smiles in response, cracks a hefty laugh, wipes the last few tears from his cheeks. 

Steve leans toward the backseat, sets the new bag of food in the footwell behind Eddie’s chair, makes sure it’s secure before righting himself. “Thanks, Benny. You’re fueling us for whatever Robs is about to put us through when we get home.”

“Oh, movie night, is it? You tell that girl to come see me ‘fore she leaves again. Be nice to catch up.” Benny smiles, fond and warm.

“Sure thing. ‘M sure she misses you and your cookin’ jus’ as much.” Eddie offers, a matching smile settling on his face. 

Benny nods. “I worry ‘bout y’all still. You tell Wayne ‘r Hopper to call me so we can set up our next shindig.”

“Sure thing. That sounds nice.” Steve replies, reaching over to grab Eddie’s free hand. “Make sure to put your milkshakes on the menu for this one.”

Eddie scoffs, indignant. Brings the half-drunk shake to his lips, sucks down a dramatic swallow. “Whatsoever could you mean by that, my liege?”

Benny laughs, slaps the window frame before standing up. “I’ll keep that in mind. Y’all be safe now. Take care of yourselves. And stop by anytime you need a pick me up. Y'all know ya got pick of the diner anytime ya want." He steps back. "See y'all soon. Night!” He waves before walking back in the diner.

“Night Benny!” Steve yells before rolling up his window. He looks across at Eddie, squeezes their hands together. “You ready to go home?”

Eddie leans his head against the window, one hand linked in Steve’s, the other holding the half-drunk milkshake in his lap. He watches as the sun dips behind the trees, as Hawkins starts turning to nighttime. He thinks of how Robin is undoubtedly lounging on the couch by now, probably irritated at the two of them for taking so long and cutting into their cherished hangout schedule. 

Eddie knows he isn’t okay, knows things won’t be just because he spends the night smushed between his best friends on their too-soft couch. He knows it won’t all be magically fixed when he tumbles into bed with Steve, when he peels back the edge of the pot to let out the first stream of boiling water, releasing the pressure that’s been keeping the cavern in his chest satisfied for so long. He knows that things won’t magically just get better overnight. 

But still, he smiles, takes a sip of the too-sweet milkshake, squeezes the hand of the love of his goddamn life, and lets himself relax into the comfort of the life they’ve built together, knowing that no matter what, Steve will still be there every time he opens his eyes for the rest of his life.

A thought that scares him, but maybe not in the terrifying I-need-to-arm-and-protect-myself way that Eddie falls to so easily.

No, more in the I-have-someone-who-loves-me-for-everything-I-am-and-always-will way. 

Loves him for all of his “Too Muchson” self. 

He turns, smiles at his boyfriend. “Yeah, Stevie. ‘M ready.” 

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

a/n: hi! This is absolutely a self-indulgent fic. I put Eddie through the ringer – meaning, gave him some of my chronic illnesses and piled on some trauma and served him up to Steve to patch up. I feel a lot helpless with all my health issues daily, so this was a way of me trying to cope with that. I also showed some glimpses of past trauma in Eddie. People have their own trauma and bullshit to deal with already – piling chronic illness on top of it makes the lines all muddy and makes it even more difficult. Chronic illness is debilitating and can ruin relationships of any kind. Same for trauma. I gave Eddie the most supportive relationships because he deserves love and care, and because that’s all I fucking want honestly.

So, here are some silly little bits of research I did for this, and for my own health over the months of diagnoses. I tried to get as accurate as possible, but please let me know if any dates are off (and if they are, pretend for continuity they aren’t). There’s honestly not enough research done on fibro and dysautonomia or POTS.

Fibromyalgia was first recognized as an official diagnosis in 1987 by the AMA, though records on versions of it were recorded in the early 1800s. Definitions for fibro wouldn’t come about until 1990, which is a little less than a year after this story takes place. I hc that Eddie is helping in the research for this process. 

There was some research to show the connection between fibro and other health issues around 1984. This is what we think of as comorbidities. 

A form of dysautonomia called familial dysautonomia was first diagnosed in 1949. This is a very severe form of dysautonomia that is often life threatening.

The first autonomic laboratory was established at the Mayo Clinic in 1983 by Dr. Phillip Low. This focused on the study of autonomic nervous system disorders.

Even though POTS wasn’t an official on paper diagnosis until 1993, it was studied for decades prior, being known as a variety of names, like irritable heart syndrome in 1871, soldier’s heart, and postural tachycardia syndrome (without the orthostatic) in 1982.  

I take liberties with calling it POTS here even though it wouldn’t be an on-paper diagnosis until 1993. Eddie exhibits all the symptoms, so the government is using him to work toward POTS as an official diagnosis. Artistic liberties, deal with it. 

Bendy straws were invented in 1937. Yes, I did look this up just for historical accuracy.

this is also my first fic, so please be nice :) considering posting to ao3, but still kind of scared, so not yet (it is in fact totally on ao3 now)

i do not consent to my work being used in any ai training or any ai related projects, or to my work being copied, reposted, or stolen in any capacity. likes and reblogs are lovely and bring joy to my tired heart.

freak out in the notes with me about these beautiful idiots. i hope you love them as much as i do.

tags: @sunshine-daydreams0809 (i finished it)

[borzoilover69]

just scrolled through your hs2:oot tag, looks great looking forward to it! ^^

yeah about that...

my interest in homestuck other than certain factors of it has been dead for a while. I dont think i have the motivation for it and desire to see that storyline through.

HOWEVER.

Since its.. on permanent hiatus. I suppose i can just spoil the entire storyline and the determined outcomes of the entire thing? So click below if you wanted to see how THAT story goes.

-----v

HS2:OOT was to take place at the end of the long hiatus of hs2. After crocker targets johns house and burns it to the ground, jake comes back and finds the house, burning. BGD appears to torment Jake, arguing over fault, their relationship, and whether BGD is really saying what dirk would say. BGD also makes mention of the "cosmic asshole in space". As tensions rise, they reach a point where BGD decides to nope the fuck out and kill himself to detach himself from jake.

(ill add the pnale reference in a bit)

Jake has a breakdown.

After the breakdown, Jake seeks out john. john has just exited roxy and calliopes house (again this took place after the great pause, everything that came out this year-ish wasnt around) and talk over issues, concluding that things HAVE been off. For a long time now. That they have to do something, but what?

Hesitantly, Jake asks about Johns retcon powers. They deliberate, John hesitant even though they are "off canon" these are still their friends. They go back and forth on this before john argues that he doesnt even know WHERE to retcon to. Yet they still give it a try. MEANWHILE.. CRUSIING THROUGH PARADOX SPACE AT THE SPEED OF WHATEVER...

A SHIP GOES DARK. DAVEBOT: hey is it getting dark in here or what DAVEBOT: what the fuck is happening ARADIA: oh dear we've run out of time DAVEBOT: no no fuck this wasnt supposed to happen shit. DAVEBOT: aradia the fuck are you talking about ARADIA: we've run out of time, i'm sorry dave. DAVEBOT: i thought doomed timelines were for the game only DAVEBOT: the whole fucking point of this was that we were going to get out DAVEBOT: we were supposed to get out DAVEBOT: shit callie what the hells going on

Jades body stiffens and falls limp.

Retconning without purpose brings them to a blank space. Specifically, the black hole in which alt calliope resides. And man is she PISSED. Shes vague, condescending, and focuses on the fact they were "comfortable" and "safe". This is met by profuse denials, they want things to happen and "hasnt nothing been happening enough?"

CALLIOPE: The page and the heir were to remain. JOHN: ok. shut up.

[bickering later ]

JOHN: ok, i don't really care though, because clearly none of this is right!! this is the most garbage i've ever heard!!! They argue and bicker, and even fight somewhat. Calliope kicks their asses royally, and yet their defiance raises an eyebrow. They decide to do a trade deal. Calliope will grant them a set amount of time and they must defeat or at least put a stop to Jakes cosmic ex. If they fail to do that, she will take ultimate control and send them all back.

Calliope sends them back to a point before dave ascended and before the wormhole closed. Its a bright sunny day, and jake appears a little bit after john does. When asked, he said that calliope was asking him for something. John doesnt ask what.

John asks out of the blue if they can head to karkats house. When asked why, he talks about johns situation and the guilt he vaguely references from their last conversation. karkat isnt fully part of the revolution yet, and since the happy nuptials of jade and dave, hes been staying home and bedrotting. Isolated from human society and the new troll society, he prefers it that way as he lacks aim or purpose.

They ask for his help, explaining their situation. "We need your help beating my cosmic ex." "WHAT THE FUCK SORT OF COCAINE DID YOU TWO DO. THAT SOUNDS LIKE BULLSHIT. REPEAT WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAID TO YOUR LOCAL PSYCHOLOGIST." He also goes into the whole "thing with dave" (writing by august)

Karkat isnt budging, bringing up multiple points on why he shouldnt go, even if what theyre saying is true. This could really honestly be a cosmic fuck over. So when in doubt, reverse psych it out. John nonchalantly says ok, thats fine. We are going to respect your decision here. And karkat gets mad. REALLY. REALLY. MAD.

They end up reverse psychologying him into thinking its a personal FAVOUR that hes doing them by making sure they dont asphyxiate on dead air in space. Karkat and john talk about stuff happening, while Jake says he has to run a few errands. Karkat bringing up more questions about how easily john is doing this, john fumbling but probing more into what this pre-revolution karkat thinks to try and understand what the other karkat was on about. Jake returns, and the ship is ready to go.

this music

[Cue flash that shows the ship, then the town zooming out as. callback to when janes house entered the medium, and then zoom in on the ship as it takes off, entering through the wormhole into paradox space. Sollux on the roof gets blown over by the breeze, watching them. Inside the wormhole, Jake celebrates and highfives John before walking out, leaving karkat behind as he stares up into the soaring heavens. The perspective switches to the front of jakes ship, showing that its more reminiscent of a large battleship before it switches to dirks ship, flying through space he looks up at the screen. Slow pan over the members of the cast going to be relevant, terezi in front of a board of pinned papers and threads, rose watering plants, a timelapse of jakes ship and its occupants setting up and personallising the space. Alt calliope, davebot, the meat crew. etc. Cut to black and fade in text: HS2:OOT]

Ill put more later. But that was all of act one. maybe ill put up act two and other plotpoints later in another post along with the exclusive business.

[fernlessbastard]

first time using this ask thing heh and i don’t rly know what to say, but, as a casual tntduo lover to another tntduo lover, i desperately kindly ask what are your favourite fics? dont rly mind if its suggestive/smut, id still like to show dem authors love and support. as a trade offer, ill leave some fic recs on my next ask hehe :]

anyways been following u for a while now (on insta) and id like to say ur art brings me immense joy and never fails to inspire me. hope u and your partner have a nice day! bubye !

i know this aint a prompt or idea or concept but u just seem like a cool person that i want to interact with :]

Hiiiiii

My guy, I am so sorry, but I hardly have any recommendations...

Why? Well, I went to my AO3 account, and like a solid 1/3 of my history was completely deleted - as in the works were deleted. Additionally, I haven't been reading much lately, so I have no newer titles, unfortunately. But here's the couple I have:

there's always this thing that we're becoming. Brilliantly written, genuinely gorgeous, in character, etc - it is smut though (top notch smut, though)

I'm pretty sure I enjoyed TntDuo Content I Don't Want To Attach My Username To too - also smut lmao

Agape - NOT smut, for once, but never finished lmao

There's also this fic I am completely not connected to ha ha it's called Losing Face and while it is unfinished I heard that the author is doing this like kinda rewrite kinda reimagining sort of thing where tldr it's the same concept just executed better ha haa👀👀👀

Another one is real life au - it's VERY heavy though. Like, I had to stop reading it at some point cause it was legitimately just hitting too hard. It is well written, and it's supposed to evoke those emotions, but just be VERY careful with it. VERY tldr is that it's about Schlatt - Q's abusive ex - becoming Wilbur's sugar daddy. It is VERY dead dove do not eat, and deals with SA and s-cidal ideation. The fic is called Sugar Lips, but I won't put the link here cause seriously, it's fucking heavy - and in a very realistic way, not the fantasy "eating someone's heart while they're alive" type of thing, but in a "this happens to real people in real life" type of way. Idk if you still want to read it dm me for the link but yeah, just please stay safe, guys

And then there's one work which I cannot find for the life of me - I don't know if it got deleted or something but if it wasn't, tntblr please help me find it It was about Wilbur coming to Quackity when his stitches break. Once the guy stitches him up, there's a whole scene when Wilbur has a breakdown and Quackity helps him through it. Then I believe it's kinda this sort of "montage" of how Wilbur and Q kinda grow closer, and (spoiler alert) it ends with some event during which Sapnap and Karl show up and there's arguing and at some point Wilbur and Sapnap start fighting (physically) and Wilbur ends up beating Sapnap to death. It was so well written, and it was one of the earliest fics i've read, and i haven't been able to find it for a long, long time now

Anyway send me asks about absolutely anything, don't worry about it being "right" or anything - all asks are welcome, be it HCs, prompts, ideas, or just some appreciation, sharing something you like, a question to me, etc :]

[lovepookie]

₊˚ෆ The Perfect Love Scheme - p.sh

♡ sypnosis: a jack of all trades by self proclamation and loser-nerd in actuality; park sunghoon would stay at home for the rest of his life if it wasn’t for his party-hungry friends. his quiet and anxious demeanor when you first met him in the club is exactly what makes you greatful he didn’t though. tonight was the night you were going to convince your friends that you were going home with someone. maybe then they’d finally leave you alone about love. a little love scheme never hurt nobody, right?

♡ genre: fluff, kinda suggestive, pinch of angst, strangers to lovers, non-idol au, fem!reader

♡ 6.5k word count

♡ warnings: cursing, anxiety mentioned, suggestive, drinking mentioned, sarcastic jokes?, please let me know if there’s any i missed!

♡ nano note: i really hope yall like this as much as i do! sunghoon has been terrorizing me lately so i needed to write something. feedback is greatly appreciated! xoxo

.♡.

Sunghoon doesn’t know who the fuck said you couldn’t find love in the club.

He wants a name, a number, a fucking address. Maybe then he could track them down and show them—not tell them—how wrong they are; he’s quite literally staring at the very definition.

The moment he spotted you on the dance floor, you quite literally rendered him speechless and when your eyes met his for the first time, he felt a hot feeling surge through his chest. Sunghoon has had his fair share of relationships and failed talking stages, yet he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before.

You were gorgeous.

There was something about the way you danced about carelessly in the dark; not one worry in the world. You looked so free; like you belonged to you and only you. You didn’t seem to care if people watched you, you didn’t care if people were actively judging you. You were just being your authentically free self whilst the music ran through and moved you like you had not one thing to lose.

Wow.

Sunghoon wishes he could be like that.

His crippling anxiety had gotten worse as of recent and he felt trapped into an abyss he couldn’t run from, just worries and more worries piling onto one another. This, in turn, had him all pent up in his room for a couple of months. He for sure thinks that within the last year his social skills have gotten worse too, so there was really no reason to go out into public and socialize if he didn’t have to, right?

He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself.

Yet here he was.

Maybe letting Heeseung and Jake drag him to the hell hole that was this busy night club located in the middle of Itaewon’s party district wasn’t such a bad idea. They had been on his ass for a long time now about going out to party on the weekends, and they’d finally gotten him out of the house tonight. Yes, this took a lot of effort on their part, and yes, Sunghoon almost had a mental breakdown whilst waiting in the line outside to get into the club, but his friends weren’t going to let him go home until he was wasted it seems.

He was being forced to have fun.

Heeseung had practically grappled him by the scruff of his neck onto the dance floor, drinks in both of their hands threatening to spill as he uttered; “Sunghoon, let go of your fucking pride and worries for once. Literally nobody is going to remember tomorrow—including you.”

But boy, was he wrong.

Because, how could he ever forget you?

You in your cute little dress.

You and your pretty face; eyes so entrancing and wonderous. At the same time the energy exuding from your demeanor was that you were quite guarded and closed off.

You read ‘tread carefully’ when anyone on the dance floor got remotely close to you, and you stayed relatively close to your group of friends—yet to him, this was more the reason to be so enthralled with your presence. This sentiment couldn’t be truer the moment you caught his eyes staring at you too.

The previous look of being preoccupied with yourself had changed painstakingly slow, and a pretty smirk curls onto your lips when you had realized you’d gained an audience.

His audience.

He wanted to die and ascend to heaven right then and there—he swore he’d be perfectly okay with that too.

Sunghoon paces himself as his thoughts run rampant at the sight of you moving closer.

Pretty girl is coming over here, pretty girl is coming over here—she’s coming over here fuck!

And as he awkwardly sways about on the dance floor, a very strained and creaky look taking over his figure-skater frame as he fixes the chunky framed glasses on his face, he swore that the strangers dancing about must have been paid extras or something—they quite literally started to clear the way for you.

Like you were Moses.

Like you were some extraterrestrial and heavenly being.

Like you were parting the red fucking sea.

“Are you okay? That babe is like…staring you down and making her way over here.” Jake whispers as quietly as he can to Sunghoon over the blaring music.

This does no favors for Sunghoon’s erratic nerves, and he inwardly has to talk himself down from raising his hands back up to his mouth in order to bite his fingernails habitually.

“Yeah, I caught a glimpse of her a couple weeks ago when I was here,” Heeseung butts in, “From what I’ve gathered, she doesn’t really talk to anyone but her friend circle.”

Then why the fuck was she coming over here?

Sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s making a big deal out of this either—ultimately, you could go anywhere you wanted.

“Nah, she’s kind of approaching us right now-“ Jake is able to get out before Sunghoon is jabbing him in the stomach with his elbow.

Within a few seconds you were standing in front of them three; a pretty sexy smile on display that Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever seen you wear before.

Sunghoon is going to shit himself.

“Hi, Uhh- My friend over there was wondering if you were single. She wanted to talk to you actually.” You say, shifting to stare Jake dead in the eyes.

This wasn’t like you.

I mean yes, you were definitely lying right now and no friend of yours had even seen these three on this side of the club, but you couldn’t really contain yourself when you caught the raven-haired one staring you down. Yes, you had always preached the importance of falling in love with yourself and learning to be comfortable with being alone to your sex-thirsty friends—but you had to admit this one was a looker and warranted your curiosity. So, you broke your own rules and approached undeniably the best looking trio of men you think you’ve ever seen before—and there was no time for your insecurities to say you couldn’t.

“Who? Me?” Jake says, completely confused by your sudden gaze detaching from Sunghoon and being expectantly placed on him.

“Yeah, she’s the blonde back there.” You state, looking over your shoulder and pointing to your very lesbian friend.

She could play the part whilst you figure out a way to distract the doe-eyed looking guy. Your friends did this all the time with you, so it was their turn now. You’re sure they’d be more than happy to know you’ve taken interest in someone too.

“Oh, well if you’ll excuse me.” Jake says, bottom lip going between his teeth after he smiles at you, then he’s quickly sauntering off towards your friend.

You pass him a smile back and pray to every god in existence that your friends read the room before you’re turning back to the other two men.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we got your name…” Heeseung starts, sending you a very amused smile as he places a friendly firm arm around Sunghoon to tap him into being engaged with the conversation now that you were standing right the fuck in front of him.

“Oh! My bad, I’m Y/n.” You say, outstretching your hand for a quite formal introduction for the club.

You don’t let the burns of embarrassment that sprall out across your cheeks faze you though—the beauty-marked boy seems to like you still by the looks of his matching pink ones.

The doe-eyed one shakes your hand firmly first, then pretty boy does, albeit a bit shaky. “I’m Heeseung, this is Sunghoon.” Bambi states, obviously doing you both a favor and trying to get the nervous looking Sunghoon to start talking.

Sunghoon just smiles like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet as he holds his breath for your next words.

Cute.

You liked that.

“It’s really nice to meet you guys, uhm, Sunghoon? Would you like to dance?” You ask, placing all your cards on the table right away because tonight you were feeling quite interested in this one. Sunghoon burns from the inside out as he takes a few moments to process your words.

Pretty girl’s standing here? Pretty girl’s asking me to dance?? Fuck fuck fuck!

“Uh- Well, i don’t really like dancing-“

“He loves to fucking dance! Of course he would!” Heeseung cuts him off, both of his hands going to Sunghoon’s upper back to push him towards you maliciously—I mean, benevolently!

Sunghoon’s eyes go wide as they stare at your very pleased and amused expression, and he doesn’t know whether or not to stab or thank Heeseung the next time he see’s him.

Only time can tell.

“Cool, let’s go.” You state quite simply, reaching out and grabbing onto Sunghoon’s hand and softly pulling him along with you.

Red hot blush shoots down the back of his neck as he caves in and decides to follow.

You hastily turn around once you get to a good space on the dance floor for you two, and immediately pull him closer to place his hands on your hips. He feels he can’t take his eyes away from you, completely entranced now as you smile and lean in to whisper; “…You can touch me, loosen up pretty boy.”

When you pull away with that sly but inviting smile still plastered on your face, Sunghoon suddenly decides that the dozens of eyes and possible dozens more camera phones in the room don’t fucking matter anymore. His hands lightly lift off your hips as he then decides to pinch the sequins of your dress in order to pull you closer by the fabric in the most politest, non-loser, totally un-nervous way possible.

You just smile up at him as you let a laugh out, because now your proximity has you realizing just how tall his pretty and nervous self is.

He sends you a bashful smile as you start to sway to the beat, then your arms find their way around his neck. There’s a few moments of him just swaying until he gets more comfortable touching you again, but the way your eyes dared not to deter from his made him feel like he could get on the floor and do the fucking worm and you’d still choose him to dance with you.

Were you a vixen?

A temptress of some sort?

Was he going to be lured to your bed chambers where you cooked him in potions and used him for spells?

He thinks he just might consent to this with the way you trail your hands down to grip and hold onto the collar of his shirt to pull him down to your height this time.

“How have I never seen you here before?” You ask over the music, quite endeared by his everything. Then he smiles; his striking brows, beauty marks, and newly unveiled and very pointy canines all come together so seamlessly to form this big butterfly in your stomach.

You became curious about just how many girls and guys—and hearts in general—have been lost and entranced by that face.

“Uh-This is the first time in a long time being here actually. I don’t go out much.” He lets out nervously, his eyes shifting to your lips for a split second before his eyes are on yours again.

This was the exact moment where you decided to get a glimpse of his own lips—and damn, you were suddenly filled with many ideas of how to make sure they’d be placed on your own later tonight.

“Oh, is that so?” You say through a smirk, tilting your head to the side as you dance. This is where Sunghoon starts to feel all giddy inside.

You were really cute, too.

“Yes…” He confirms, tilting his head to be parallel with yours, and for once he feels a spark of confidence. Before you can even blush at this cute gesture, he’s winking at you quite smoothly.

This sends your butterfly morphing into thousands, and when your heart rate speeds up at the prolonged eye contact that you two hold, you realize you can’t take it any more. You distance yourself from his lean figure whilst your right hand finds his own before you’re turning around and interlacing his hand with yours as his arm drapes around your shoulder; your back now pressed to his chest.

Sunghoon feels he is going to pass out right here, right now, because wow, you smell amazing as his hand instinctively finds your waist; the both of you two-stepping to the beat. You both continue on like this, Sunghoon making eye contact with Heeseung from across the way and being met with a thumbs up and a wiggle of the eye-brows.

This ultimately makes Sunghoon blush harder as he goes to push his glasses up further on his nose bridge to busy himself. When he hears you giggle in front of him over the music, he internally screams because fuck she definitely saw that.

You take this moment to turn again and disconnect your two’s hands so that you could talk to him face to face now that the start of the parasite called emotions has calmed down.

“Your friend looks quite happy that you’re dancing with me…” You tease as you continue to two-step and fix the strap of your dress.

“Oh, d-don’t mind him! I’m not going to ask you to come home with me or anything—I’m sorry if he’s being creepy-“

“What if I want to go home with you?” You cut him off.

Fuck it.

What did you have to lose?

You watch as Sunghoon’s whole face goes red, his eye’s widening as he tilts his head down questioningly at you.

“What?”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at his shock.

“Sunghoon, can I let you in on something?” You say, deciding to just come clean.

At the same time, you’re peering over his shoulder and meeting eyes with your group of friends who smiled your way to let you know they were watching you. It’s there where a light-bulb turns on and the gears in your head finally start churning.

Is this not the perfect idea?

Plus, he was really cute and shy—what could go wrong? He didn’t seem like a weirdo or a murderer—

“Sure, you can tell me…” He says, eyeing you suspiciously as he still tries to grapple with the words you uttered a second ago.

“Do you see my friends behind you?” You ask, and Sunghoon’s quick to turn his head and see their eyes on him.

“Uh yeah, they’re kind of staring over here-“

“Yeah, they’ve been trying to get me to go home with someone for weeks—I’ve just been blowing them off and having fun by myself…” You say, and you decide to lean forward to get a bit closer to him. “Do you catch what I’m throwing?” You ask, hoping he could help you out with your new scheme to get your friends off your back.

Sunghoon nods as he starts to wrap his head around the situation. “Oh- so you don’t want to go home go home with me, you want to fool your friends….” He states slowly, staring off into thought.

You laugh, pulling him back down to earth, then take your turn pulling him closer by the cloth of his shirt. He smiles awkwardly at this but inwardly he’s cussing himself out for being such a fucking loser who wasn’t meant to say any of that out loud.

“I mean-“

“I know what you meant. You’re right.” You say through a smile, grabbing his hands and placing them both back on your hips that you sway slowly—and just like that he’s back to being speechless.

“I’d really like it if you played the part for me. Think of it as doing me a favor.” You reason, your hands now wrapping around his neck again.

He stares at you through his lenses as he weighs his options.

From the start of the night he didn’t want to be here either—if he’s honest, you were now the only reason to stay besides to please his friends. Plus, if he looked like he was taking you home now, maybe they’d leave him alone and stop worrying about him.

It was a win-win situation.

Fuck it.

“Okay, I’ll take you home.” He states firmly, eyes looking into each of your eyes just as the song switches to something more sensual and down-tempo. You smile in response and try to deny the fact that his words and eyes make the butterflies flutter again.

“Perfect.”

And then he smiles back—cheeks just as blushy as yours.

“Perfect.”

There’s a moment of silence between you as you’re both quick to adapt to the music change. You scan his features again, and he watches you do so, heart pounding hard in his chest. When your fingers go to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he eyes your lips, it feels like instinct for you two to lean in.

It all plays out so slow.

It feels like millions of years go by as he leans down and a million more when you tip-toe to meet him in the middle. In that hazy-eyed daze, right before your lips touch, you mutter words that almost break Sunghoon’s heart clean in half.

“…This will really sell it, won’t it? I hope they’re watching.”

And still, despite the fact that it’s all for show, his heart feels like it’s stitched back together again the moment he hums as an answer and you smash your lips onto his. It’s borderline intimacy; the way your tongue infiltrates his mouth and the feeling of your plush lips on his. When he tilts his head for a better angle and you hum in response, he’s sure you’re about to win an Emmy, an Oscar, a fucking Tony.

The way the both of you manage to sway slowly to the music at the same time might earn you a Grammy as well; you were a great fucking performer—no, a great fucking kisser.

Sunghoon was going to thank Heeseung.

He was going to kiss the ground he walks on the next time he see’s him outside of the club.

Shit, he’ll name his first born after him.

You were perfect.

—

Shortly after your two’s make-out session that lasted longer than it probably should’ve, you were quick to interlace his fingers with yours and pull him over to your friends where you left your purse. After gathering your belongings and saying goodbye to your friends after a couple awkward moments of them interrogating a swollen-lipped Sunghoon, you quite literally drag him out of the club.

“Where’s your car?” You ask the still blushy and dazed beauty, and you can’t help but smile as you admire the way the moonlight hits his pale skin.

“M-my car? Oh, it’s over here.” He stutters out before taking the lead, guiding you to his car by the hand. After unlocking it, he then opens the passenger door for you and holds out a hand to aid you with getting in. After you take his hand and sit down, Sunghoon smiles your way before closing the door softly. You take this moment to let go of the breath you were holding, the butterflies going crazy again and mind squealing because you don’t think anyone’s ever done that for you before.

It only takes a few seconds for Sunghoon to run around and get in, then he’s starting the car and buckling himself in pretty quick which makes you laugh. “What’s the rush? Can’t wait to get me home?” You chuckle as he pulls out of the club parking space whilst checking his review mirrors.

He laughs too despite his nerves, and you catch sight of his canines again.

Would it hurt if he bit me-

“No, I just thought it’d be good for the theatrics. What if your friends came out of the club?” He smiles, driving out of the parking lot.

This makes you snort.

“Right, of course! Damn, you really thought this through didn’t you? You should become a scriptwriter.” You say playfully.

Sunghoon’s eyes shift back and forth between you and the road a couple times, his smile never faltering.

“That’s actually kind of funny because, I kind of write as a side job.” He confirms.

This makes your eyes widen pleasantly.

“A writing side job? Okay director, actor, writer, dancer—What else do you do? What’s your main thing?” You decide to ask, but not without throwing in a joke.

“Dancer? Are you making fun of me?” He laughs out, coming up on a red-light.

You chuckle and face him, “No?! Your moves are what entranced me before I even danced with you!”

He squints his eyes at you and the car comes to a halt, so he decides to roll his long sleeves up his arms.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a figure-skater on the side too, so i actually can decently dance. But before I tell you what I really do, where exactly am I taking you?” He asks, a new-found comfort finding home in his demeanor. You stare at him for a bit, forcing yourself to keep your eyes up at his face and not on his now exposed veiny arms.

“Uhh, I’m not going to lie—I kind of want shaved-ice. Can we get some?” You ask randomly, voice getting tinier in embarrassment as the words leave your lips.

What?

Maybe you were hungry.

Maybe you wanted more time with pretty boy.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

“I’m always up for some ice cream,” He laughs out, “…but is anything even open right now?”

Your face grows a little hot at the realization that oh fuck it’s two in the morning and he’s right. “Oh, I didn’t even realize…” You mumble.

“We can go to the gas station for a slushy or something still?” Sunghoon proposes, pressing lightly on the gas as the light turns green and immediately shifting lanes to drive to the next 24-hour gas station.

“Please? Sorry if i’m asking for too much.” You say quietly as you sink into your seat; every fiber of confidence in your body suddenly vanishing.

“You don’t need to apologize, I know a nice park close to this gas station where we can drink the slushies.” He says without much thought. This makes you smile wholeheartedly again.

“A park? Is that where you murder me in cold blood? Or are you going to push me on the swing?” You joke, heart feeling very full because; he wants to stick around.

He wants to talk longer.

Now it’s Sunghoon’s turn to sink into his seat as he once again regrets spewing the first words that come to mind. He was usually so careful and quiet before he responds to others, too.

What were you doing to him?

“No! The park kind of just came to mind. Sorry, we don’t have to-“

“No! I want to go. You don’t need to apologize.” You state, repeating his earlier comforting words.

He goes silent, a smile making its way back onto his face as he pulls into the gas station and parks. He takes another moment to smile at you again as he unbuckles himself. You reciprocate it shyly before you’re both getting out of the car and making your way into the store.

“I can fill mine faster than you can.” You say as you two come up on the slushy aisle. Sunghoon can’t help but let a chuckle out at your playfulness.

“I’m not going to race you, I want multiple flavors.” He says through a smile as he grabs two cups and hands you one. You just roll your eyes at him and sigh at his lack of childishness. “True…”

Sunghoon frowns for a second—was he ruining the mood?

“Fine, I’ll race you,” He starts, “…but we have to do half one flavor, half another.”

You smile his way; this double flavor slushy action being right up your alley. “Don’t cry when you lose.”

And so you race.

Everything was going fine.

You were in the lead as the banana flavored drink flowed faster than his pink strawberry dispenser could even keep up with—this sparks a laugh from your lips when Sunghoon groans out of frustration and furrows his brows.

“Ha!”

“Well, you have to do this flavor next for it to be fair!”

“Shut up, I’m trying to focus!”

You both quickly focus in on your drinks that fill to the halfway mark before quickly maneuvering around eachother in a fit of laughter in order to dispense the next flavor.

“I’m going to win-“

“What’s that sound?”

Before you both can comprehend where that sudden high-pitched ringing was coming from, Sunghoon’s slushy machine is filling up his cup at the speed of light as banana slushy squirts quick into the bottom, forcing his lid completely off. The cold sticky drink is shooting quick into the air from off the bottom of his cup and soaks every thing in its wake—including the pretty beauty-marked man.

“What the fuck!” You scream as it happens, backing away and getting splattered on only a bit. Sunghoon is silent the whole time, his eyes tightly scrunched closed.

There’s a few moments of shocking silence before staff is rushing over and apologizing, spewing incoherent statements like; “Fuck, Jungwon! Niki forgot to put the sign up before he left his shift!” and “Jay, please tell me you’re lying.”

You can’t help but place a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing when Sunghoon’s eyes open and glare at you through dirty lenses. You quickly rush to get some napkins along with a sunny-eyed staff member.

“Are you okay? I guess you won…”

“Y/n.” He utters your name for the first time, and even though it’s in a threatening manner, the flutters of various colorful wings inside you are sent into a frenzy again.

“What? I’m sorry, okay, i’ll shut up.” You laugh out, helping him wipe cold banana liquid off of his nice shirt. “We’re so sorry sir! Feel free to use any other flavor whilst we get this mess cleaned up. Your drinks are on us.” Say’s the apparent manager who’s name tag was labeled Kim Sunoo.

“Thank you!” You respond for the now cold and shivering Sunghoon.

“This shit is so cold, i don’t think i want it anymore.” Sunghoon borderline wines as he cleans his glasses. This makes you laugh again as your finger goes to wipe slushy off his jaw. Without thinking, you suck the liquid off your finger.

“Hey, this just means you’re twice as sweet.” You say, giving him a thumbs up and winking just like Heeseung as you watch him change colors.

Park Sunghoon get a grip, you were not supposed to be attracted to that.

“Okay! We can go now, banana boy.” You state after filling two drinks up very carefully.

Sunghoon just continues to shake and glare at you as he walks side-by-side with you to the car. When you both get inside, he’s quick to turn the heater on dispite it being the middle of June.

“Y/n, I don’t think i can get out of the car, I’m so cold right now.” He sighs out as he parks the car. You had both now arrived down the street at the park he was talking about before, and despite it being so pretty with the green grassy field and cute little playground; Sunghoon’s discomfort was more important to you.

You watch as he seems to sip happily on his now free blueberry slushy and you can’t help but laugh at this whilst Sunghoon bashfully smiles because he’s the cause of it.

Man, he wanted it on a record. He’d jump in a pool of any flavor slush you wanted him to if it meant he’d hear you laugh like this again.

“Fine. We can stay.” You say, leaning back into his passenger seat as you side eye him whilst still giggling.

He closes his eyes in a tired thanks as he too sinks into his seat.

“Okay, now you can tell me who you are. Spill your guts banana boy.”

Sunghoon opens his eyes to glare again. “I will drop you off at the gas station and leave you there if you keep that up.” He jokes, resting his head on the head rest and turning his face to look at you through his lashes and lenses.

You blush as you smirk playfully. “Okay okay, I’ll bring it down a notch i guess. Now tell me.”

Sunghoon sighs.

Is this the part where he tells you how much of a loser he really is?

“Well…I’m actually a…uh-“ He stutters out.

“Just tell me. I won’t judge.” You say, a genuine welcoming smile gracing your face as you tilt your head to be basically face to face with his. He smiles, and you watch as his eyes trail over your features.

“I’m an app developer.”

Your brows furrow at this.

“What? That’s not something to be embarrassed about. What type of apps do you make?”

Sunghoon sighs and faces forward.

“I make dating apps.”

Oh.

“But not even the ones that work, it’s the ones that you have to buy into in order to get decent matches.” He mutters, and it’s almost like he feels dead talking about what he does for a living. His eyes are blank. Mind is back to racing and worrying.

Oh.

You frown.

“Ah, so this isn’t your first love scheme then…I’m not your first love scheme.” You say, smiling and staring over at him, tone very supportive and lighthearted.

He looks back over to you and smiles lightly.

“Nope.”

Sunghoon wants to die.

“Well…look on the bright side, somewhere out there is a love scheme that you had a hand in that actually backfired on your silly little app. Like, imagine two people from one of your apps came together when they weren’t supposed to. Yet, somehow…they work just right.” You ramble on, hopeless romantic thoughts that were usually burried deep within spraying out like they were banana slushy.

When you come back to reality, you’re met with Sunghoon’s piercing eyes on you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s goes the eye contact again.

“I never really thought about it like that.” He says, and his hand mindlessly lifts in order to play with the ends of your hair.

You smile, the butterflies now evolving to produce a hot sensation that spreads through your body.

“Yeah, it’s like a perfect love scheme. It’s not supposed to work—yet, it does.” You say, reaching out for his glasses and taking them off his face altogether. You go ahead and place them on your own face, smiling at him the whole time with this idiotic grin.

Sunghoon blushes and reciprocates your smile. He couldn’t see shit now but you were so hot. What the fuck was he going to do??

“Thank you.” He manages to whisper, still staring your way. He doesn’t know specifically for what, but just….thank you.

Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being so inviting. Thank you for even looking his way. Thank you for listening. Thank you for seeing the best in every terrible situation he’s had today. Thank you for existing.

Just, thank you.

You can only muster a nod as the quiet engulfs the warm air between you two. When you finally avert your eyes to take a sip of your slushy, a slurping noise is what finally breaks the silence and garners an embarrassed laugh from the both of you in response.

“Okay Miss love scheme. Why are you avoiding love?” He finally manages to ask, this burning curiosity filling his thoughts the more he spent time with you.

You frown at him.

“Well damn, that’s a packed question.” You chuckle out, kind of taken aback.

“Is it? You seem quite openly avoidant of love, so I thought this was an easy conversation.” He reasons. “We’re a love scheme to trick your friends into thinking you’re giving love a chance.”

You frown harder.

Oh, yeah.

Right.

“Well…To be honest, I’m not sure.” You utter as you look out the front window in thought.

“I think love avoids me.”

Sunghoon just snorts.

You snap your head over to him in question before leaning forward and resting your head on the dashboard rest.

“What? I’m being serious.”

“Is this what they call a beige flag? It doesn’t feel red or green really.” He says jokingly, his body leaning forward to rest his head and arms on the wheel to meet you face to face again.

“Sunghoon what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know—I just feel like you’re a walking beige flag. You seem to be emotionally available but act like you’re not for whatever reason-“

“Act like I’m not?”

“Yes, you act. You’re a walking love scheme.”

Your face twists into almost hurt.

“That doesn’t really sound like a compliment.”

“It is one because you’re like the perfect version you were talking about,” He says, “…you’re like a perfect love scheme.”

The silence that follows his words is nerve-racking, and you can attribute it to the mutual understanding that a perfect love scheme in itself is a perfectly imperfect thing. Something that happens when it’s not supposed to, yet works out just right. Something worthy of a chance—one could go as far as to say it was something strung by fate.

Through the long silence between you both, you try to gather your thoughts in order to stop your fast-beating heart. After a few minutes of you both in deep thought, you start to take note of Sunghoon’s sleepy form getting very comfortable against the wheel.

“Y/n-“ Sunghoon starts before being cut off by his own yawn, “…quit limiting your love potential—especially if it’s what you desire deep down.” He says like it’s the most simple thing on Earth, just as his eyes struggle to stay open.

A smile makes its way onto your face. You watch as Sunghoon quite literally falls asleep on the wheel of his car, pretty dark long lashes resting against his pale cheeks, beauty marks adorning him perfectly.

He was perfect.

—

Sunghoon wakes up to the sound of a car honking, almost startling him into a heart attack. He doesn’t know where he is for a good five minutes and it takes him another two to realize that he’s in a car in general. His head hurts, he feels sticky, and his neck is so sore from laying forward on the wheel all night.

Why the fuck am I sleeping behind the wheel?

A little blurry look around and he spots a slushy cup.

Wait…

The memories come racing back to him like a banana slushy to the ceiling, and suddenly he remembers it all; why he’s sticky, why he’s in his car parked in front of a playground, why he’s in his party atire and why he feels so giddy at the sight of a slushy cup.

You.

He scans his passenger and back seat and when they both come up negative, he starts to wonder if it was all just a dream.

Where did you go?

He remembers the dancing, your friends, the gas station, sitting in the car and talking; your laugh.

The love scheme.

Could you have really left without a trace?

Did he say some dumb shit when he was tired that scared you off?

He didn’t even get to take you home.

It’s only when he turns on his car do the windshield wipers go ballistic and a yellow piece of paper swiping back and forth across his front window answers his many questions. It takes three seconds tops for him to turn off his car, get out of it, and run around to the front so he could grab the note. His smile is so cheesy and bright, and he probably looks a mess as he goes to sit on the hood of his car to read it.

It’s like it’s the ultimate answer to everything—the feeling stirring in his stomach reminded him of passing notes to pretty girls in grade school with the papers littered in boxes you could check yes or no off of. He felt the time it took to unfold the paper was like a thousand years too—had Christmas come early?

When he finally managed to read the words written on the note he feels his heart just might combust.

banana boy, if you’re reading this, a friend came to pick me up when i woke up this morning. no matter what i did, you wouldn’t wake up…that seems like a beige flag to me idk. anyways, here’s my number if you’d like to stop scheming with me: 000-000-0000. if you still want to scheme, i’m sorry, i can’t anymore. someone told me to stop limiting my love potential. — y/n

Sunghoon doesn’t know what country he’s saved in his previous life, and as he rethinks every good deed he’s ever done to come up with an explanation for you and the ten digits on this yellow paper, he swears his cheeks start to hurt from smiling so hard.

Laying back on the hood of his car, he places his arm over his face as he can no longer contain the chuckles that leave his mouth.

You were real.

Your pretty smile as you chuckled at his stupid jokes in the darkness of his car. Your smirks and frowns and the glint behind your irises. He remembers the laughs and the not-so-subtle touches, and last but certainly not least, he remembers your soft lips on his at the night club earlier that night.

He met you in the club for christ’s sake.

A love scheme personified was what you both were; completely placed on paths that weren’t supposed to meet at all, let alone enjoy that meeting. It was almost laughable, because he swears he more than just enjoyed that meeting a little bit; why did he feel…changed?

Sunghoon no longer felt the need to ever go home because that’s where you weren’t. He can’t help but think about how no matter how sticky the situation got the day before, the way you laughed and supported him through the day, and merely how you simply saw him, had him feeling you were more than just a potential future-fling.

Sunghoon was going to quit his job.

Sunghoon was going to spend his life trying to find the person who said you couldn’t find love in the club so he could shove a banana down their throat.

Sunghoon was completely and utterly taken by the thought of you; no schemes involved.

He’d like to thank the academy, his pushy fucked up friends, his mother for birthing him—no!

Your mother for birthing you.

“Ah…my neck really fucking hurts,” He mutters through a chuckle and pretty upturned lips as he stares up into the bright blue sky. “…I should call Heeseung and Jake,”

“…or should I call her now?”

“…would that be lame?”

2024 © lovepookie

♡ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

[jmagnabo92]

JilypadWeek2024 - Day 6 - Questions

@jilypadweek

New to JilypadWeek:  Thoughts for this Ship? (Link), but if anyone wants to contribute other questions - feel free to do so before the week starts!)

Shipping Headcanons! 

Who cooks? James

Who’s the messiest? Lily

The cleanest? Sirius

Who fixes the vehicle after a breakdown? Sirius 

Living space has a leak! Who fixes it? Sirius

Who buys the groceries? Lily

Going out to eat: Who pays? James

Who orders the most food? James

And who has dessert? Lily

Would they go to the beach? yes

Who knows how to swim? All

Is someone multilingual? Sirius

Do they try to teach another language to the other? Yes

How does it go? They get distracted, so nothing gets done.

Any pets? Yes, they tend to collect animals on accident.

Or plants? They buy flowers every week for Lily.

Baths or showers? Showers

Together or separate? Both.

Any bubbles or bubble fights? Yes, bubbles!

Can they stand silence? Lily and Sirius can, but not James.

Who talks the most? James.

Who talks the least? Sirius.

Who stays up late? Sirius

Who sleeps the most? James

Does the other have to force them to sleep/wake up? Lily

Who is the highest maintenance? James

Does the other mind? Nah.

Vacation ideas: who decides them? They decide as a team.

Where would they go, if anywhere?  Somewhere Nature-esqe

How often do they have sex, if at all? Often.

Who brings ideas? All.

Who initiates? All.

Any kinks they clash on? Nah.

Oddest place they’d have sex? The Forbidden Forest.

How are their afterglows? Awesome.

Does one try to make the other louder/quieter? Yes, it’s fun. 

Do they look at each other? Yes.

Open or closed relationship? Closed with the three of them.

Last Year Participant: 

Random Ship questions – 

Assorted OTP Questions

What is each member’s love language? James – Gift Giving, Lily – words of affirmation, Sirius – Touch.

What would they describe as their perfect date?  A romantic evening at home, just cuddled up together.

Who made the first move? Lily.

Who is more sentimental? James.

Which member calls the other in to kill the spiders? Sirius.

Who falls asleep first? Lily.

Who wakes up first? James.

Who is more more relaxed/carefree? James.

What’s one way their personalities compliment one another? (Is it opposites attract or are they pretty similar?) The boys are similar, but Lily is an opposites attract.

Who is always cold? Lily.

Which member is always trying to bring home stray animals and which member always has to say no? Sirius and James both bring them home, Lily says no and fails.

Who worries more? Sirius.

What are some non-sexual activities they do together? Anything really.

Who would be able to talk their way out of a speeding ticket? Lily and Sirius. 

Who is the better cook? James.

Which member is more physically affectionate? James.

Which member is more verbally affectionate? Lily.

How does each member feel about PDA? James and Lily both love it, but Sirius is a little more shy about it.

Who’s the safer driver? Lily.

What’s each member flirting style? Silly and goofy.

Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing? Lily.

Who is the cuddle initiator? Sirius (it’s that whole Padfoot thing).

Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in? They’re all more outgoing.

Who is the big/little spoon? They all trade off being the middle spoon 

Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason? Sirius, impulsive, Lily reason.  James would play both sides.

Who’s more likely to laugh at their own jokes?  James.

Who takes longer showers? Lily.

Who is “more loved” by the in-laws? Sirius.  (Assuming all parents are alive, Lily’s parents and James’ parents want nothing more than to make up for Sirius’ parents being the worst by doting on him).

Who is more likely to get jealous? James.

What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating?  How easy it was for the three of them to meld together.

Who wanted/would want kids first?  James.  

Who gives piggy back rides to the other? James.

Who fell in love first? James.

[lepertamar]

lurkfriend: kjorel, feeling destroyed when people are super different to him: /J

silkycoal:

Ah, but there is the irony, isn't it? "I assume: to see."

At the expense of everything else. Infinite sights traded for one other, albeit one available by no other means. The public and the private switched: what has become of her eyes visible to all and yet knowable only to those who also have given up their sight to the pyre indicated within. Or without? God is not anywhere in particular, God alone has no body, but God is here, in her eyes. Because They chose this too—God! How ever could anyone be so sure in Their own beauty to demand such a price for seeing it!

lurkfriend: YEAH

lurkfriend: "how could anyone ever be so sure in Their own beauty" [thinking abt tesena]

silkycoal: YEAH BOY

silkycoal: This is making him dizzy but perhaps that is as it should be, if he can capture this feeling in a painting then he will have captured the experience of seeing her, such that all others who see the painting may see her too. He, a Seafarer, meant to convey images from one place to the next—

silkycoal: and ofc he never ASKS

'the only way to try to understand this is to paint and convey this mystery to other regular ppl' [COPING]

lurkfriend: painting is such a fucking. coping mechanism for him. i wonder if it'sl ike. eurgh kjorel is so like, sight/experienced based, like back to his thing abt melting into e.g. shadows if he sees them, becoming one with the world type of thing....

if he externalises that i wonder if he sees it as something "outside of himself" something that he can adopt freely if he chooses to, vs. something threatening because it says something more about what he is

silkycoal: yeah i bet!

silkycoal: his very sight-experiential thing has similarities to stalking-era tamar except tamar's curiosity about what she doesn't know overrides any need or worry to explain or justify or force it into a framework while kjorel is like using 90% of his operating system to try [and fail] to prevent himself from knowing anything new

lurkfriend: YEAH

lurkfriend: kjorel is very foucsed on defending himself.... or his sense of self... it's sort of why hmmm i think of kjorel as a sort of "void"? like a Lackness. not that he's lacking anything, he's full of himself! but he is the void, esp. with the focus on shadows in particular, somewhere were light can't reach (REALLY funny w tesena as a counterpart). anything that could be "in him" is seen as an attack on him on an ontological level...

silkycoal: yessssssssssssssss

lurkfriend: but kjorel as a black hole, in the sense that black holes are "greedy for light" and trap it in them.... tesena who wants to be trapped in that way, who wants to light up that which cannot be lit up...

silkycoal: kjorel is afraid light will destroy him rather than outline and fill him like a bl

YEAH

his skin as the event horizon.....unnnghhhhgghhhhhh so delicious

lurkfriend: YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!! YOU GET ME

silkycoal: and yeah part of how different he is from tamar is i think bc tamar is much more like…..Reacts To g-d’s fire and heat, in a very volatile and violent way yes, but you can see that she preconsciously had an embodied self-understanding of being something that exists. that Is Here. (not just the gap where nothing else has eclipsed it yet.)

lurkfriend: but kjorel becomes so…. idk if perceptible is the right word… he's not just melting into the shadows, he is commanding and so full of himself, bc as you say "outlined"… he has that gravitas

silkycoal: kjorel starts out very smooth, i mean colloquially in personality mainly, he's so slick and suave and socially adept, but also smooth in a slippery way

lurkfriend: oh god yeaH

lurkfriend: i thnk thats part of why i liked his breakdown? like yeah smoothboy get fucking. stuck in all the goddamn complexes. good luck being so smooth and 'easy'

silkycoal: nothing is allowed to snag or stick

YEAH

IT WAS SO FUN NGFDEGHHFFDHN

lurkfriend: YEAH everything had to roll off him. he didn't allow anything to affect him, he was always the one in ~control~ and the master of the chessboard.... and seeing that reversed and him fucking struggling drowning in tesena's tears was like. hell yeah

silkycoal: ....it's incredibly funny how he refers to yenatru in his mind as a boy more often than a man, when not only is he like 3 years younger than yenatru, he's 17 which is BARELY adult in sehhinah hgfghvgg, and he definitely socially vibes himself as older than 17, partly i think in a good way of 'askannite seafaring has a really good way of letting kids grow up, compared to the much more childified teenager context implied in ennuh' but i'm sure for kjorel it's MOSTLY an independencymaxxing 

[chaosandcrimson]

SUMMARY: While Tanner talks to Alexander, Cornelia tries and fails to reach Yag. WITH: Cornelia Belmont

Cornelia felt like she had been operating on autopilot ever since the bombshell had dropped that Yag knew the truth. Tanner had gone to speak to Alexander, and she had gone back to Drake Manor just in case, against all odds, Yag decided to show up.

He hadn't. And she was fairly certain that he wouldn't.

Sitting on the bed in her room, she stared at her phone in her hands as if willing it to do something, anything, to distract her from the thoughts racing through her head and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that now threatened to pull her under completely. She had never experienced what it felt like to drown, but she imagined that it was a lot like this; a relentless but ultimately hopeless struggle to stay afloat, desperately gasping for air as the surface grew further out of reach until it was gone.

For the first time in years, she found herself wishing that she could speak to her sister. But Thalia had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with DrakeTech, with the Big Three, or with life in the upper district in general; and after everything that had transpired, Cornelia couldn't exactly say that she blamed her for that.

No. She didn't mean that. She was angry, and she was scared, and she was hurting, but she didn't want to be anywhere else. There were things about her life with the Drake family that infuriated her, that made her feel like she was stagnating, stuck in a role that she never asked for protecting a secret that she was never given a choice in knowing. But there were also things that she loved and wouldn't trade for anything.

Tanner, of course.

Alexander, after a fashion.

And Yag.

She knew that it was pointless trying to call him. She knew that he wouldn't pick up. He knew the truth now, and there was no way that he wouldn't put together that she also knew, that Tanner knew—that they had known the whole time. But she couldn't sit here and do nothing, alone and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, which was only made worse by the fact that she didn't know where the fuck he was.

For five years, Cornelia had spent every waking hour of her life knowing where Yag was. She kept track of him every day, making sure that he was safe, making sure that he was looked after, making sure that nothing bad happened to him. She wasn't always with him, but she always knew how to find him. That was who she was.

It was also her job, but deep down she knew that she didn't really do it because it was her job. She did it because she loved Yag. And she didn't want to lose him again.

Scrolling through her contacts, she tapped his name and brought the phone to her ear. She felt the knot in her chest tighten when it went straight to voicemail.

She called again. And again. And again. Repeatedly, compulsively, as if it was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. But the outcome never changed.

"Yag, it's me," she said to his voicemail, having lost count of the amount of attempts that she had made to reach him. She wondered idly how long it would take him to get through all of her voicemails if he ever checked his messages. Or perhaps he wouldn't listen to them even if he did. Perhaps he would hear her voice and chuck his phone into the nearest body of water. She wouldn't blame him for that.

"Please let me know that you're safe," she pleaded to nobody, tears burning in her eyes as she clutched the phone tightly. "You don't have to tell me where you are. You don't have to talk to me. I understand if you don't ever want to talk to me again. But please let me know that you're safe. I can't... I can't think about anything else right now."

Hanging up, she dropped her phone to the bed and then covered her face with her hands, sliding off the edge until she was nothing more than a crumpled pile of blond hair and quiet sobs on the floor. All she wanted was to know that he was safe.

She could live with him hating her. She could live with him cutting her out of his life completely. It would hurt, it would break her heart, but she could live with it.

As long as he was safe.

[lloydfrontera]

building off this and this i am now thinking of the relationship between asterion and theo during the nine year gap when rakiel was gone. the emotional fall out of it. both of them grieving and both of them unable to find any comfort in the only remaining family they have left because their relationship just isn't in a place where that even feels like an option.

and i feel like theo would be more likely to lash out if asterion even tried to reach out to him. in an ironic twist i can see him resenting asterion for attempting to step into what he feels is rakiel's spot, when all asterion is doing is trying to be the father he should've been since the beginning. rakiel filled that space in theo's life by accident and now that he's gone theo doesn't want asterion to intrude in it because that's hyung's. rakiel did for theo what asterion should've done and now that asterion is trying theo doesn't want him to because for him this is something that his brother did. not his father.

plus he also would now that have to deal with the fact that he's back at where he started. he's once again only rakiel's replacement. his brother died like everyone always expected him to and now theo has to step into his place just like he was born and raised to do. but unlike before this is not what theo wants anymore. he doesn't want to be crown prince, he doesn't want the throne, he doesn't want to become emperor, he doesn't even want to make his father proud. he just wants his brother back. he'd trade an empire for his brother.

this would not help his relationship with asterion btw. i think he would already be at the defensive with asterion's attempts to be a better father even before rakiel's 'death' because he'd find it hypocritical of asterion to only begin showing he cares when rakiel starts proving himself. plus the fact that he did nothing when theo had a breakdown and developed a whole ass eating disorder just after he failed to obtain the title of crown prince.

so if asterion tried to be a better parent right when theo becomes crown prince by default?? yeah no theo would not buy it. i don't think he would be intentionally cruel about it because honestly he's a sweetheart but i do think he would barely tolerate asterion's attempts at reaching out and not make any effort to reach back. at least not for a long time.

and there would be very little asterion could do about it. he fucked up. he ruined his relationship with both of his sons and now one is completely out of his reach and the other wants almost nothing to do with him. and he knows he deserves it. he would keep trying because it's the only thing left for him to do but he would be aware that theo would be completely in his right to not accept his apologies or attempts to mend their relationship. he spent decades trying to be an emperor instead of a father so how can he blame his son for thinking of him like that.

maybe after some years theo would soften up and try to build a better relationship with his father, especially after seeing the way asterion never gives up on bringing rakiel back, even when it almost kills him. but they would never quite reach a point where they're fully comfortable with each other, not while rakiel's absence still haunts them both. and after he comes back,,, that's a whole another post lol

[signode-blog]

How to Trade the Breakout & Retest Pattern: Strategies That Work

Breakout and retest trading is one of the most reliable techniques in technical analysis. It allows traders to enter trades with confidence after confirming the breakout of a key support or resistance level. If executed correctly, it offers high probability entries, clear invalidation points, and strong risk-to-reward ratios. In this blog, we’ll break down everything you need to know about the…

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Christian Paz at Vox:

Tim Walz was just over a year into his first term as Minnesota governor when a Minneapolis police officer murdered George Floyd in May 2020, touching off a generation-defining summer of global protests against police brutality and racial inequality. Four years later, Walz’s handling of the demonstrations — which included mass unrest in Minnesota’s largest cities — is under new scrutiny after Vice President Kamala Harris tapped the governor to be her running mate on Tuesday.

At least two people died during the violence in Minnesota’s Twin Cities, more than 600 arrests were made in the initial days of unrest, and the whole span of rioting and law enforcement response made it one of the most costly and destructive periods of civil unrest in US history. Minneapolis and Saint Paul sustained hundreds of millions of dollars in damage during those riots, and hundreds of buildings were heavily damaged. Conservatives have charged Walz with essentially allowing rioters to “burn Minneapolis to the ground” and waffling on the deployment of National Guard troops to quell the violence. Walz wasn’t the main authority in charge of responding to the unrest — that was the task of local officials, including Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey. But the task eventually passed to him once it was too much for local officials to handle. Both Walz and Frey’s governments have traded blame and presented their own versions of the events of those days of rage, but the full story of what happened is still not completely known.

What did Walz do during the unrest?

The main line of criticism of Walz’s response to the late-spring riots hinges on the time it took for him to deploy the Minnesota National Guard and coordinate with other state and local officials in restoring order.

Floyd was killed on May 25, and large protests, with some vandalism and police violence, began the next day. By the evening of May 27, largely peaceful protests grew more violent, with looting and arson around the city. Frey, the mayor, reportedly contacted Walz that evening and asked for help from the Minnesota National Guard. The city’s police chief then sent Walz’s office a written request for 600 troops, in addition to some other logistical notes. Walz and his office did not sign an executive order authorizing National Guard deployments until the following afternoon, May 28, at which point much of the city had shut down, businesses were closed and boarded up to prevent looting, and buildings were smoldering after overnight arsons. That night saw some of the worst rioting, violence, and arson, as well as one of the indelible scenes of the protests: the breach and burning of the Minneapolis police’s Third Precinct police station. A few hundred National Guard and Minnesota State Patrol officers had been deployed to Minneapolis by then, but were charged with protecting federal buildings and downtown areas of the city, as well as escorting first responders, instead of immediately going to hot spots.

Walz would later say that the city had not specified where the troops should go — and state and local officials later reflected that there was a breakdown in communication, coordination, and understanding of just how long it would take to get National Guard troops prepped. The next morning, once National Guard troops and the state patrol had taken control of the area around the station, another lasting moment occurred: the arrest of CNN correspondent Omar Jimenez and his crew while reporting live near the police station. At a press conference on May 29, Walz would take responsibility for the state patrol’s mishandling of the news crew, saying, “There is absolutely no reason something like this should happen. Calls were made immediately … I failed you last night in that.”

That press conference was also the first time Walz acknowledged that local officials’ response had been an “abject failure” and that he would now be leading the response. He said he had spoken with President Donald Trump and said that his tweets about “shooting” starting after looting were “unhelpful.” He deployed more National Guard troops and instituted a curfew. Still, more violence and vandalism occurred. The following day, Saturday, May 30, Walz would fully mobilize the National Guard, speak with Secretary of Defense Mark Esper and Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, and acknowledge that the situation had gotten worse because “outside agitators” had entered the region. The protests and riots wouldn’t be fully tamped down in the Twin Cities until June 7.

[...]

Republicans are attacking the governor’s response now that he’s on the VP ticket

Since the Walz announcement, Republicans have assailed him as “weak, failed, and dangerously liberal,” and zeroed in specifically on his response to the Floyd protests and their aftermath. Given that the racial reckoning that the Floyd murder kicked off included the rise to prominence of the “Defund the Police” slogan and movement, some conservatives have also claimed that Walz was being “soft on crime” for supporting police reforms in the state that banned chokeholds, created new mental health resources for police and first responders, and required excessive-force trainings. And others in right-wing media have conflated his response to the Floyd murder specifically, which he connected to “systemic issues” with policing and “institutional racism,” with Walz offering excuses for the violence.

During the immediate aftermath of the George Floyd protests that escalated into riots in 2020, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz (D)’s response to the protests has been facing scrutiny from Republicans who saw Walz as responding too slowly.

[williamgodley87]

Unlock Profits Through Discipline in Trading – Here’s How I Stay Consistently Ahead

In the world of forex trading, success is often portrayed as a result of secret strategies or advanced indicators. But from personal experience and years of learning, I’ve discovered a deeper truth: discipline in trading is the true game-changer.

Many traders enter the market with enthusiasm and technical knowledge, only to burn out quickly. What they often lack isn’t intelligence or resources—it’s the mental framework to stick to a plan, manage risk, and control emotions. This is where trading discipline makes all the difference.

What Is Discipline in Trading?

Discipline in trading refers to the ability to follow a well-defined trading plan without deviation. It means honoring stop-loss levels, avoiding impulsive trades, and staying focused on long-term goals rather than short-term market fluctuations.

Traders with discipline do the following consistently:

Follow their trading plan with precision

Avoid emotional trading decisions

Practice patience and wait for high-probability setups

Manage risk with strict stop-loss rules

Resist overtrading or revenge trading after losses

These behaviors are what separate consistently profitable traders from those who gamble in the markets.

Expert Insight from Forex Veteran Sangram Mohanta

One voice that stands out in support of trading discipline is Sangram Mohanta, a forex trading expert with over 15 years of hands-on experience. Through his educational resources and strategic analysis published on Top Forex Brokers Review, Sangram emphasizes that discipline is the foundation of long-term success.

He explains,

In my early years, I tried every strategy you can name. What finally gave me consistent profits wasn’t any secret formula—it was sticking to my plan, staying calm under pressure, and managing risk like a professional.

Sangram’s journey is echoed by thousands of traders who follow his mentorship. His teachings highlight that no matter how good your strategy is, without discipline, it will fail under pressure.

A Real-Life Trading Success Story: From Losses to Stability

Take the case of Amit Desai, a 33-year-old trader from India. He began trading forex in 2021 after completing a popular online course. Despite having a seemingly strong strategy, he struggled with emotional decision-making and overleveraging. Within six months, he lost nearly 70% of his account.

That’s when Amit turned to the resources on Top Forex Brokers Review, where he discovered Sangram Mohanta’s breakdown on discipline-driven trading. He implemented key changes:

Defined a strict risk-reward ratio

Maintained a trading journal

Limited his trades to only A+ setups

Followed a maximum daily loss limit

Six months later, not only had he recovered his losses, but he also ended the year with a 24% return. Amit now credits discipline—not strategy—for his transformation. His story is proof that staying consistently ahead in trading is about mindset, not just methods.

Why Discipline Trumps Every Strategy

Strategies are important—but only if executed with consistency. Without discipline, even the most proven methods fall apart under the weight of emotional pressure or greed. Here's why discipline is your greatest trading edge:

Stability in Volatility: Discipline helps you stay grounded even during sudden market moves.

Controlled Losses: It enforces stop-loss adherence and prevents catastrophic errors.

Repeatable Results: Discipline enables you to replicate your edge over hundreds of trades.

Long-Term Focus: It keeps your goals intact despite short-term distractions or losses.

Discipline is what keeps you in the game long enough to let your edge play out.

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Final Thoughts: Discipline Is the Bridge Between Strategy and Success

Trading strategies are everywhere. But traders who thrive consistently in the forex market have one defining trait: unwavering discipline.

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[teenageread]

Review: Grip of the Shadow Plague

Synopsis:

transforms beings of light into creatures of darkness. Seth discovers the problem in its infancy, but as the infectious disease spreads, it becomes clear that the preserve cannot hold out for long.

In dire need of help, the Sorensons question where to turn. The Sphinx has always given sound advice–but is he a traitor? Inside the Quiet Box, Vanessa might have information that could lead to a cure–but can she be trust?

Meanwhile, Kendra and members of the Knights of the Dawn must journey to a distant preserve and retrieve another hidden artifact. Will the Society of the Evening Star recover it first? Will the plague eclipse all light at Fablehaven? Find out in Fablehaven: Grip of the Shadow Plague.

Plot:

Not learning his lesson, Seth is determined to complete the trade of gold for batteries, and along with Newel and Doren, they raid the nipsies. Oh Seth, when will you learn! Life at Fablehaven was good, until their parents showed up, wanting to take them home. When they tried to get their parents to see Fablehaven as it truly is, even after drinking the milk, the best they could do was say they were having a great summer and wanted to stay till the end. With the threat of the Sphinx, who may or may not be a traitor, Seth was in for a bigger surprise when Kendra was asked to join The Knights of the Dawn. Leaving Fablehaven with Warren, Kendra went off to join the brotherhood, leaving Seth behind. Unable to stay out of trouble, despite the lectures, all was not well at Fablehaven. It seems as if the prisoner the Sphinx saved left a plague on Fablehaven, turning the creatures of light into the dark. As it spreads fast through Fablehaven, the sanctuary is once again on the brink of collapse as those who they trusted turned evil, and the house itself becomes a death trap. Meanwhile, Kendra is part of a brotherhood, their youngest member ever, and is sent off on a mission to retrieve the second artifact. With Warren trying to find out who the Sphinx is to the Knighthood, Kendra focuses on survival as she hides that she is fairykind, and explores another sanctuary that, unbeknownst to the current caretakers, is also on the brink of collapse. 

Thoughts: 

Brandon Mull has done it again. Expanding more into the Fablehaven world, we get to meet new characters, and new threats, and get double the adventure this time. That’s right, because Mull split Seth and Kendra up, allowing us to see the mission Kendra goes on with the brotherhood, and what is happening to Fablehaven, both at the same time. Mull dives deep into history with this novel compared to others. Bringing up Kendra and Seth’s parents and how they do not believe, Patton Burgess a former Fablehaven caretaker and Lena’s husband, to our two rival groups of the Knights of the Dawn, and the Society of the Evening Star. For character, while Mull introduced us to some great ones like Gavin, they also failed again to develop the ones we got. That’s right, Kendra starts off as cowardly and then becomes brave, and Seth does something stupid and learns his lesson, and uses his bravery to try to fix a mistake. Where this pattern was less present in this novel, with Mull even giving Seth a breakdown by his grandfather on what it means when you disobey rules early on, I still wish we were past the point of even talking about this. Mull does add details into our siblings' powers, with Seth gaining some traction to catch up to Kendra being fairykind, I still feel we are scratching the surface with what Mull has in store for this series. The series plotline is becoming a bit more clear, as our gang has to stop the Sphinx and the Society of the Evening Star, but we still have a long way to go with only two books left. This novel’s plot line went quickly, mostly because we had two plots running parallel with Kendra’s mission and Seth at Fablehaven. However, I felt like Mull really has not used Kendra and Seth as a team, with previous novels having them fighting separate battles, this book only made it more apparent as they square off in two separate locations. Yet Mull does bring them together in the end, so there might be hope that our sibling pair can become the fighting duo Mull wants them to be. Of all the books in the series, so far, this is my favorite due to the amount of action and world-building it does, and the realistic threat that Fablehaven might not survive for the next novel.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[linkspooky]

Edo for the character meme? :o

Why I like them/why I don’t

Literally my favorite character growing up. Probably would still be my favorite character if I hadn't developed a permanent case of soulshipping brainrot. A complete edgelord who just wrecked Judai and Hell Kaiser on screen and gave both of them their first serious losses that led them to mental breakdowns. An icon. Also when I was thirteen I really bought into his edgelord obsessed with revenge image.

His arc in Season 2 is really strong too, especially the part where he has to kill his own dad to free his soul from a trading card after spending years trying to avenge his death and also it's a fucking devilman reference.

Truly one of the most hilarious characters in all of Yu-Gi-Oh. Parachutes down into the island for no reason. Refuses to stay in a dorm and sleeps in his yacht instead. Publically calls out Judai on public television. SHMADEN SMUKI. He literally had no reason to taunt Ryo like that, he was just being a little shit. He cosplays on one of his monsters and beats up crimminals as a street vigilante, and this is literally never mentioned by the plot again after one episode.

What I like about their appearance

I really like the simplified character designs in gx in general. There aren't many "Yu Gi Oh" characters that have multiple hair colors. I love that his design is all silver with one primary color. Why does he wear a suit all the time when he's like eighteen at the most, he is a baby.

Do I prefer their dub names or original names?

What the fuck kind of name is Aster?

OTP

Edo / Saiou. My second favorite ship in Yu Gi Oh, they are a direct parallel to Yubel and Judai and what Judai has to do to save Yubel in their final duel. The holding the umbrella under the rain together makes me die several times.

NOTP

I don't have a lot of notps in yu gi oh in general. I don't really care what other people ship.

OT3

Don't have one.

Favourite card they use

Destiny hero Bloo-D I still can't believe his dad's soul was sealed in that card and he had to kill it a second time. I love the destiny heroes in general, their designs are all so cool, I'd use them in real life if they didn't suck.

Favourite moment they were in

The Saio / Edo duel. I especially love how he gave it his absolute all to save Saio and still failed, it makes the duel even more meaningful to me.

Least favourite moment

Edo gets about as much screentime in Season 3 and 4 as everyone else, but like I hate the fact he never wins another duel after Season 2 when his introduction was beating Judai and Ryo. Literally Bloo-D is such a good card, and every time he summons it he loses.

[bronzemettle]

What's this I hear about Hero Rankings? Let me just look up who publishes those...

Are you an aspiring supervillain? You built yourself a laser sword and force field generator and you're robbing banks, but you really want to move up in the world and start making more of a name for yourself.

You need to subscribe to HenchCo Magazine!

This weekly publication contains not only a convenient shopping catalog of advanced technology (It's technically legal as long as we don't explicitly suggest what you would use it for...) (but it's Skymall for rayguns and weather machines), including coupons, plus a selection of tips for places that won't let you buy the tech, but do HAVE cool tech and coincidentally might also have weakened security soon...

You can also find the contact information for an assortment of no-questions-asked mercenary organizations at a variety of price ranges and levels of training, including discounts on HenchCo's own security contractors, all of whom will be willing to wear whatever uniform you give them! Themed, silly, demeaning, unflattering, hazardous to their personal health... Again, no questions asked.

But all that's just the back pages! In the front half of the magazine, every week you'll find the latest insider tips and tricks of the trade, interviews with recently captured supervillains explaining the mistakes they made and how you can do better, expert analysis of the more successful schemes, articles detailing the careeers of the biggest-name villains who never seem to stay down even when they fail again and again...

It's Business Insider, The Economist, Bloomberg, and Forbes all rolled into one, for supervillains! We legally have to tell you that you shouldn't imitate any of the acts described in our pages, but we will describe them in step-by-step detail.

Most of our issues are only for the eyes of paid subscribers, but the second issue of every month is publicly available for standalone purchase in most places that magazines are sold, or in digital form on our website. So you can get a taste without taking the plunge. But know that for every deal, for every tactic you learn, there's so much more behind just $70 per year, or $650 per 12 years (12 year subscription also comes with a free lidded, insulated, copper-interior beer stein that's ornately decorated with human-safe Kryptonite gemstones and contains trace amounts of salvaged Chitauri metal from the 2008 invasion of New York!)

But you may also be familiar with our Special Publications. Quarterly since Spring of 2006, we release our updated "200 Heroes You Must Plan To Defeat to Conquer The World" list, colloquelly referred to by other news outlets as the Hero Rankings.

The simple numbered list of names is available for free on our website, but if you buy the full issue (the first one of each year is available to non-subscribers), you'll find the full breakdown of all 200, who's new, why people moved up or down, full profiles for all their known powers, associates, standard operating procedures, where they patrol, whether they kill, whether they work with the police or SHIELD, and everything else you will need to know, along with another 55 honorable mentions, explanations of why they didn't make the list, and explanations for anyone who was removed from the list since the previous quarter.

Another Special Publication is the famous, infamous, ever-criticized and ever-popular Supervillain Swimsuit Calendars! Since 2010 these are released alongside the first issue of November for each upcoming year. There's a Men's Version, a Women's Version, and a Third Version with a little of everything, 36 (or more!) models every year, but each issue for that week is only packaged with one of the three variations, so your local stands might run out of the one you want! Have no fear, you can order this one online for delivery (shipping not included). Usher in the new year with saucy images from twelve of your favorite outlaws, cutthroats, and misunderstood visionaries.

There may also be... alternate takes for some of the photoshoots, dependent on whether the models were willing to go the extra distance. Available exclusively to subscribers, the Swimsuitless Version of the calendar might only feature models already in the other three variations, and might not even have unique models for every month on some years, but there are no pesky swimsuits to be seen. It's all supervillains all the time from toe to tongue!

(HenchCo Magazine is seriously a genius little bit of background worldbuilding Kim Possible set up for my headmate to wildly expand off from for an old fanfic and then me to steal wholesale for this. I love it so much.)