#Spicy’s spicy takes

[spicy-apple-pie]

Okay, hot take time.

I hate the pendulum swing that is Dick and Jason as Robins. That is, their personalities as the sunshine Robin and the scary robin.

When I joined the fandom, the consensus was that Dick was the sunshine, happy go lucky Robin while Jason was the violent, snarky Robin. Now things have shifted because people realized that the whole reason Dick became Robin was to kill the people who murdered his parents. And Jason was very focused on school, he was a good kid and wanted to help because he knew what it was like for the victims.

And to me, that kinda wipes away the complexity of their characters. Full disclosure I’m not an expert on the characters, I haven’t even really read anything that’s based solely on them. Except for Long Victory.

Dick was raised with loving parents in a community of people. The first time he experienced loss was probably the loss of his parents. And unlike Bruce, he didn’t have anyone to take care of him or somewhere to call home. He was left in a strange city in a foster system that was probably as corrupt as the police force that ignored him when he said it wasn’t an accident. He’s going to be angry. It wouldn’t make sense if he wasn’t. But that’s not to say that he has to stay angry forever. Bruce brought him in so that he wouldn’t have to feel alone like he did when his parents were killed.

But Jason on the other hand, was so used to loss. His Father was abusive, he watched his mother overdose, he had to care for himself on the streets, convinced that this was all his life was going to be. So when Bruce took him in and gave him the chance to be something more? To pursue his interests and help people like him? You bet your ass he’s going to take that opportunity. But that doesn’t make him an angel.

Idek what I’m trying to say here. Basically two things can be true at the same time. Just because Jason liked school, it doesn’t mean he’s the purest boy to ever grace Gotham. And just because Dick started out angry, it doesn’t mean he has to stay that way.

[sharks3ye]

Oughaagahghaagga ramen so yummy hehehsgaaauyahgaa

[daddyish]

x

[pix-writes]

Stanford Pines relationship HCs

(ford pines x reader) there will be smut so, 18+ below... Some angst, mainly fluff, I HC that most if not all of the pines family are neurodivergent in some way.

A/N: I had a long journey last week and all I could think about was the stans, so this will become specific... 😅 Will do the same for Stanley too in the future.

Ford has a lot to catch up on when he comes back through the portal, but he won't jump into a relationship immediately, it will still take a little time, he's got a lot to adjust to in his home dimension and being with someone has not been his forte.

But once he does he's surprisingly clingy, will want to cuddle up to you, in bed, on the couch, wherever you both are. Not one for real PDA, but will be close to you and call you terms of endearment out in public, just a little less than he does at home. I HC that he'd call his partner "dear" "darling" "honey", looooves your hips and putting his arm around your waist (it's a great way to pull you in to snuggle).

Doesn't hold your hand at first but since you like him to hold your hand and give him assurance over the fact that you like his six fingers, he does. It loosens his insecurities around his hands a lot.

Gets addicted to kissing you, doesn't care whether it leads to more or not, Stanford simply loves kissing whether it's brief or a good long make out session. But he does prefer to take his time over it.

Stanford is very logical, good at patching himself up from decades of portal hopping and therefore will do the same for you if you need it, is meticulous if you get hurt in any way but also has an appalling bedside manner! Doesn't tell you if he's going to do something that will sting and tells you not to be overdramatic if you react negatively to it (you know how people can get a little angry when someone they love gets potentially seriously hurt?). And yet you know him to be a gentle man, generally touches you softly like you're made of glass (unless it's to pull you away from something dangerous), so having him take care of you can also be comforting, he'll never do something painful unless it's necessary. (Don't worry though, his brother will make you stan cakes to cheer you both up.)

Speaking of food, Ford definitely prefers his home universe food to what he had in the other dimensions, tried lots of different unusual dishes, some he even liked, but none of it can compare to his homely comforts. When not sailing and adventuring, he puts on a few pounds. Satiates his sweet tooth and caffeine addiction with mabel juice (is the only other one of the pines to like it), prefers it to coffee. Stanley swears his tastebuds must've been affected during his time away. Doesn't like it with as much edible glitter as mabel does, but this is the only deviation from the original recipe he has.

Excellent teacher, you want to learn how he does something? More than eager to teach you with a steady hand and clear pace. Will teach you regardless how to shoot his laser and magnetic guns, how to defend yourself and how to meditate (if you didn't know these already). Can get into the information and ramble like you know about a topic and then realise (eventually) that he needs to break down or explain what he means.

Despite this he also has a romantic streak, whilst he can forget everything aside from his work or adventures, including important dates, he can also be a very considerate and supportive partner and post-portal wants to include you as much as possible in his life and conversations. You can talk for hours about any and all topics and he loves to be mentally stimulated in a relationship, however that may be.

Does sometimes have nightmares and deep guilt over Stanley and is dealing with it as best as he can, likes to know he can count on you for comfort and guidance, makes him feel less panicked or paranoid after Bill. He and his brother talk things out too and these talks can go on all night into the early morning and it's best for them to have space, Ford is grateful for your patience and willingness to be involved in his life, especially as he knows he wasn't good at opening up to you when you were starting to become friends let alone a relationship.

Ford would be shy at first, but once he gets comfortable with how to pleasure you, expect this man to be kind of obsessed. That absorbing focus he can have on his projects and studies? Yeah that can be transferred to you just as easily, which can be a little intense!

You off-handendly mention something about sexual experiences, perhaps even a joke about things you haven't tried, catching his perplexed look afterwards, you say it's simply fantasy and not really something you need to experience. However what you took for confusion or slight insecurity was actually Ford processing what you said. In fact, it doesn't leave his mind and so he does something he's good at: he does some research 😏

One night you might even wake up from sleep to find him sitting upright, lightly snoring, bedside lamp on, clearly fallen asleep whilst writing on his portable writing desk (it's either a gift from you or the twins, not sure which to choose!), when curiosity gets the better of you and you sneak a page out into your hands, you're faced with his attempts at organising fantasies, what he thinks you would want to try, how would you react to different stimuli or some of his own fantasies... Mainly figuring out how many orgasms he could coax out of you or how long he thinks he could edge you over time, what positions or rp you might like: he's worked it all out in a haphazard kind of way, like he's brainstorming the best approaches.

It's so plan-sexual scientific it's frank but... attractive, because it's so... him.

Whether he wakes up on his own or you wake him up, he ends up blushing, though he's not really sorry that you've found it. He's looking at you with this mix of nerves for how you'll react and new found smugness when he sees that you've been affected by what you've read... And yeah, neither of you are leaving that bed for a long time.

Basically, like a true scientist, he is down to experiment! 😄 He's willing to try anything as long as it's not going to seriously hurt you or it's something he wouldn't try on himself first, this is a boundary he's never willing to cross. Trust and open communication is an important thing for him post-weirdmaggeddon especially, and he's getting better at it as he goes along, so even though he often doesn't feel confident, he is infuriatingly good at aftercare and all the rest!

This means when he's not tripping over his words or flustered by you himself -he can be a damn tease at times and will chuckle to himself when you curse him out for the subtle touches he'll give you over the course of the day before pulling away. Sometimes he doesn't even know he's done it, which is evil.

Stanley will make grumbly jokes about how "you two lovebirds need to get a room!" Or about needing to move out 😅 but honestly he's truly happy his brother is happy and if you get married he will sob the whole time, even through his roasting joke filled best man speech! (Cracks a joke more than once to you that you need to make Ford an "honest man" and then laughs at it himself before whispering to you that he can get the rings if you really want to.)

Will and does suffer in the warmer months because he will wear long sleeves, full length pants and or a turtle neck for the comfort aesthetic

Personality wise him and Stan are different as can be but they often sync up physically in their mannerisms or what they say, as freaky as it is cute in a way, when you are tired/drunk you can swear you're seeing double, which amuses both of them.

His favourite shared past time with you is any kind of board or card game, some of them the rest of the family will join in for, but will also love someone to play d&d&md with if you're willing! Loves to get into the details of the rules of whatever you're playing together and it can get quite heated (secretly finds your frustrated side quite attractive, as long as you're not actually angry at him).

I feel like Stanford would get into videogames as soon as he becomes more adept at technology in this dimension, likely it's dipper who is the one to introduce it to him and he loves it (nerd). Will marathon catch ups on all the movies and shows he's missed; especially the series he was into that got continued after the portal incident. You lose him to Star Wars prequels etc for at least a couple weeks of him getting his head round all the lore and how it works, may have controversial opinions and needs to work it all out, may need to contact dipper about this.

Regularly has calls with the family (mainly the twins) over video chat (and will always call it 'video calling' no matter what platform they're using), so once you're together that includes you too and be prepared to be bombarded with questions from them (your their new graunty or grunkle after all) ❤️

[starcurtain]

Fact Checking Some Myths About Aventurine and the IPC

Especially in light of Jade's new myriad celestia trailer and the reveal of the other Stonehearts, I've seen a ton of wild claims about Aventurine--particularly how he's an unwilling member of the Stonehearts and needs to be saved from the IPC--that just aren't sitting right with me because they're based significantly more on the fanon take that Aventurine is an "innocent victim" than any actual evidence displayed in the game. So I wanted to take the time to collect some in-game evidence to see if we can sort out what Aventurine's actual relationship to the IPC is. Time to do some fact checking--this is a long one, buckle up!

Claim #1: Aventurine was sentenced to die by the IPC.

Verdict: There's no actual evidence that Aventurine was ever sentenced to anything.

This entire idea that Aventurine was actually successfully sentenced to die by the IPC comes from two pieces of "evidence" in the game. First, the scene with Dr. Ratio where those words are stated:

Leaving aside whether the IPC legally has the right to sentence anyone to anything by themselves (they're a corporation, not an actual governing body), this is the exact line that Dr. Ratio fans have been bending over backward to prove is "just an act" and that Ratio would never actually mean this (because if he actually meant this, it would make him pretty racist). So if we've already busted our asses to prove this line isn't true and was just Ratio and Aventurine acting... why would we be using this line as evidence that Aventurine was actually sentenced to anything?

We can't say "This entire scene was an act because Sunday/the Family was listening in!" and then go "Okay, but this one part is definitely true (despite there not being any other evidence in game to corroborate the statement)." Either this scene is acting, and this line isn't true--or the line is true, and Ratio's kind of a racist. Make up your minds, people. 😂

Actually, I can help make up your mind. We can prove that this line is likely a strong part of Aventurine and Ratio's deliberate act because Ratio's comment (which took place in 2.0) doesn't actually make any sense once Aventurine's story is fully revealed (in 2.1).

Ratio relates Aventurine's slave brand to the IPC, suggesting that the brand is proof that Aventurine is "doomed" and "sentenced to die by the IPC." Ratio even goes so far to say "Or was it from the Amber Lord himself?"

But from 2.1, we know that Aventurine's brand had nothing to do with the IPC, and his former slave owner was definitely not an IPC employee (as he refers to the IPC the same as Aventurine's sister did, "the guys in black").

Aventurine's brand came from being owned by a non-IPC-affiliated slaver--it had nothing to do with the Stonehearts or even Oswaldo Schneider.

So Ratio's entire comment linking the brand to the IPC makes no sense, and therefore his statement that the brand marks Aventurine as a "doomed Sigonian thrall sentenced to die by the IPC" also makes no sense.

Instead, I would argue that this line is a perfect example of the kind of exaggerated acting that Ratio and Aventurine were doing specifically to make the eavesdropping Family see Aventurine as an easy target. With this line, Ratio is emphasizing that Aventurine is a sitting duck without his Cornerstone, that he'll be weak and helpless--and that no one in the IPC will come help him, because they've already sentenced him to die. This is Ratio deliberately baiting Sunday into thinking that Aventurine will be easy, isolated prey without his Cornerstone--which is exactly what Aventurine wanted Sunday to think.

This line, which comes from a scene that we've already established is a deliberate act to mislead someone, cannot be used as evidence of Aventurine's real situation within the IPC.

"But then what about the trial scene with Jade?!" I already hear people saying. "Aventurine was definitely going to be sentenced to death!"

I'm not arguing that death wasn't a possible option for Kakavasha initially; it's clear that committing severe enough crimes can earn you the death penalty in Star Rail's universe. But I think we need to take another good look at this scene and see what really happened here.

First, we need to clarify that this scene with Jade was not an actual trial. The scene begins with a broadcast which clarifies that the suspect in the "Egyhazo-Aventurine Fraud Case" was just caught, and the IPC are conducting investigations into the "motive of the suspect."

So Jade's scene with Aventurine is not an actual trial (I mean... Jade's not even legally a judge!); it's an investigation with the goal of determining why Kakavasha would have tried to scam the Intelligentsia Guild and IPC at Egyhazo.

We can confirm that this scene with Jade is not an actual trial because she is even says "We haven't been able to find you any defense [lawyer], so you perhaps will have to defend yourself."

To which Aventurine responds that he easily could defend himself from the charges--but that it's pointless to do so. Why? Because he never intends to get to a trial in the first place.

He's there to gamble with Diamond (who he asks to see right on the spot, indicating that he's done his research in advance and knows who the head honcho he needs to talk to is). Instead, Jade says that he'll have to gamble with her, to which he agrees, and lays down his terms.

(He even says "I bet you won't send me to the gallows." We know that Kakavasha always wins his bets--he bet she won't send him off to a trial to be executed, and he once again won his bet!)

Jade, known for picking out "unpolished stones with great potential" and promoting them into positions of power to extract their value, agrees immediately, and literally tells Kakavasha to go change his clothes right then and there. She really said "I like your confidence; you're hired on the spot."

So... This was not a trial, Kakavasha never went on trial, and because he never went on trial, we have zero evidence in-game that he was ever sentenced to anything.

The IPC doesn't give a shit about the murder of some no-name slaver (I mean come on, think of how many other murders they've covered up at this point--do you really think they're holding one past murder of a no-name NPC over Aventurine's head years later?).

They might give a shit about the money they lost on Kakavasha's schemes, but Jade's entire schtick is one of equivalence--having Kakavasha join the IPC as a Stoneheart means he will ultimately generate infinitely more wealth for them than his schemes ever cost them in the first place, and that's the central piece of Jade's statement in this scene:

Is Aventurine's whole role in the Stonehearts exploitative, focused on his endless ability to win bets and generate profit? YUP. But that's ALL the Stonehearts' goal at this point--he's not unique in being "exploited" for his value. One look at Topaz confirms that.

So, ultimately, we have no evidence that Kakavasha was ever sentenced for his crimes, let alone that he was sentenced to die specifically by the IPC.

Claim #2: The Stonehearts will execute Aventurine if he tries to leave or fails his mission(s).

Verdict: There's no actual evidence for this either, beyond the obvious that most people in a powerful enough position in an evil corporation probably can't just up and quit their jobs without consequences.

I've seen this idea that the Stonehearts are planning to execute Aventurine--either for his past crimes, for failing a mission, or for trying to leave the IPC--many, many places, and unfortunately, I really think people are reaching this conclusion strictly on "The IPC is evil" vibes alone.

The IPC is evil; they coerce nice people like Topaz to buying into lifelong contracts; they're colonizers and exploitative capitalists, so of course they would threaten to execute poor innocent Aventurine!

Look, I won't defend the IPC. They are evil. But post hoc, ergo proctor hoc--just because one thing is true, doesn't mean the other statement naturally follows.

Just because the IPC is evil and exploitative (and probably does kill people to shut them up) does not automatically mean they're out to execute Aventurine for the slightest mishap.

I've seen many people say "He was going to be executed for his past crimes, so what do you think will happen if he tries to leave the Stonehearts?" But A) We just established he never went to trial for those past crimes in the first place, so we have no idea if he would have actually been sentenced to death anyway, and B) We have no evidence in-game that any of Kakavasha's past crimes would be back on the table if he were to try to quit the IPC. This is literally just fanon, based on the vibes of the IPC being evil alone. Probably informed by Topaz's "lifelong contract" situation giving people the impression that everyone who works for the IPC has to have a lifelong contract.

What evidence do we have that Aventurine is not at-risk of being executed for screwing up a mission? I mean, Aventurine himself says it. When Jade first states that Aventurine might be punished for destroying a Cornerstone, the only two possible punishments he states are:

If execution was on the table, wouldn't that have been the first punishment Aventurine listed?

And Jade's myriad celestia trailer also states that the only punishment on the table is whether Aventurine will be expelled from the Stonehearts:

And the biggest proof that execution isn't on the table?

The fact that Diamond himself agrees that Aventurine should not be punished even for the serious act of willingly breaking a Cornerstone. If Aventurine can do something as serious as breaking part of Qlipoth's will and body, something he was told to treasure more than his own life, and still get away with it... You can bet the IPC really does not give a shit about his old schemes anymore. Aventurine is way too valuable alive for them to be constantly threatening to kill him.

(But then what about Obsidian's statement that she wants a "bloodbath"? Surely that's evidence that he would have died if they voted against him?

First of all, "bloodbath" is a pretty common metaphorical term. I don't know about you, but any time people get into big drama at my work, this term comes up ["They were all talking shit; it was a total bloodbath"]. "Bloodbath" can mean any intense struggle; it's often not literal death.

However, I'm inclined in this case to say that the real reason Hoyo threw in this "bloodbath" line was just to double down on Obsidian's obvious vampire aesthetic. She's a "vampire." Duh, of course she needs to say something about blood. I think this line speaks more to establishing Obsidian's character as a violent, self-centered person than anything to do with Aventurine's actual situation.)

So, there is no actual evidence in the game that Aventurine is still being held accountable for his past crimes, or that the IPC is planning to execute him for messing up on a mission.

In fact, there are several pieces of evidence in the story suggesting the opposite, that multiple people, including the other Stonehearts, think he's kind of crazy for trying to get himself killed every mission he goes on.

When Aventurine was affected by the Harmony's power, the "future" Aventurine asks him this directly.

"Why does every one of your schemes put your own life at risk?" And players are told the answer to that isn't because of the IPC--it's not because the Stonehearts are out here forcing Aventurine to gamble with his life. When the "Future" Aventurine suggests Aventurine might be taking these risks because of the IPC, real Aventurine flat out says "You don't know me at all." He's not taking the risks for the IPC--he's taking them for himself.

Later, "Future" Aventurine even says that if Aventurine just used tactics like Opal's--which he claims Aventurine could easily do--then he would have been able to claim Penacony for the IPC without putting himself at risk at all. But Aventurine chose not to do that; he chose "death."

Because Aventurine is actually, at least slightly, suicidal. I don't personally think Aventurine would ever have turned a fully-loaded gun on himself and pulled the trigger, but he was actively seeking opportunities to die. Before Penacony ended, he was deliberately putting himself into situations where his life was at risk, taking unnecessary gambles with his life on the line--because then he would win either way. If he won the gamble, he would get whatever prize was promised, and if he lost the gamble, then he would have the "freedom" of death, to be reunited with his family. (It's important to note that the only time the word "freedom" is used in Aventurine's story through 2.1 is in direct reference to death--it is never used in reference to getting "free" from the IPC.)

Aventurine's plans were not self-destructive because of the IPC. They were self-destructive because he was self-destructive. And, in fact, multiple other members of the Stonehearts call out this behavior as a bad thing.

Jade describes Aventurine's ploy in Penacony as "overplaying his hand."

Topaz describes Aventurine's work habits as:

Then there's even Sugilite, who clocks Aventurine's suicidal tendency directly by stating that Aventurine's "death" scheme in Penacony wasn't for the IPC at all--it was entirely for himself.

If the Stonehearts were holding execution over Aventurine's head at all times, why would death be an "unnecessary [personal] extravagance"?

The takeaway from all the other Stonehearts' dialogue about Aventurine is that they actually think he goes too far and that his methods are more risky with his own life than they need to be.

Does that sound like a group of people who are planning to kill him on the drop of the hat?

Okay, okay, I can hear you saying "But that still doesn't mean he can leave the Stonehearts without consequences. They would kill him if he tried to leave."

To that I say: A) There's no actual in-game evidence for that statement; it's literally just "IPC is evil so they definitely would do this" vibes, but B) Is that statement really unique to Aventurine? Do you think Topaz could leave the Stonehearts without consequences? Do you think Jade could just fuck off and leave the IPC if she got the desire to?

It's pretty typical, I would think, that anyone who achieves a high-ranking in a stereotypical "evil capitalist mega-corporation" is not free to just abandon their high up position without consequences. The phrase "You know too much" comes to mind.

I'd argue that people are probably right--Aventurine probably could not leave the Stonehearts without something severe happening, at the very least a memory wipe--but that this is probably true of all the Stonehearts. They're too far up the chain. They know too much about the inner-workings of the literal planet-destroying world-domination company. They've had too much access to insider info to easily leave their positions.

Not being able to easily leave the position has nothing to do with Aventurine personally or his past crimes. It's just (at least likely) a basic fact of being too high up in the morally-grey-at-best super organization. (Well, then again, apparently no one even knows if Agate is dead or not, so maybe they actually don't even care lol.)

Claim #3: Aventurine didn't want to join the IPC; he's working with the IPC only because he's forced to.

Verdict: The game suggests in several places that Aventurine joined the IPC of his own free will. Whether he's still loyal to them is not 100% clear.

I think this is the biggest question mark I'm left with when reading other people's posts about Aventurine--this enduring idea that Aventurine never wanted to join the IPC and was only forced to do so because he was captured and death was his only other option.

But that is literally not what the game is telling us at all. The game tells us--in multiple places--that Aventurine orchestrated his own circumstances so that he could gain an audience with Diamond and win a position within the Stonehearts by his own gambles.

First, let's re-examine that scene with Jade. One of the first things Jade says is "What kind of person would come up with a scheme [the Egyhazo fraud] that doesn't benefit them in any way?"

The takeaway from this is that Kakavasha did not actually stand to gain anything from scamming the Intelligentsia Guild into digging for Tayzzyronth's remains in the desert at Egyhazo. All he achieved with this fraud was putting himself at risk of being caught by the IPC.

Does that sound like Aventurine to you? The guy whose mantra is literally:

So obviously, Aventurine stood to gain something from scamming the IPC at Egyhazo. What could he possibly have wanted to achieve by creating a scheme that seemingly didn't directly benefit him? Well, he says it himself:

Aventurine wanted to be brought before the IPC. He got caught on purpose. He once again gambled with his own life, betting that, instead of being put on trial for all his past crimes, he could convince Diamond (though it ended up being Jade) to invest in him. The game literally tells you, in multiple places, that Aventurine was taking another one of his stereotypically crazy, potentially self-destructive gambles to try to achieve something:

Aventurine wanted the IPC to invest in him. He wanted in on their power and wealth. No one in the IPC forced him to target their organization not once but twice with his "desert-digging schemes" when it is clear that Aventurine could easily make money elsewhere. No one forced him to suggest this gamble with Jade to convince the IPC to invest in him. No one forced him to, in the words of the game itself, "seek a Cornerstone."

Aventurine's character stories are the only indications we have (for now) about what his motivations for joining the IPC might have been:

They suggest he joined with the intention of gaining wealth and power to help his people and others who aided him in the past--only to find out that that was no longer possible, invalidating his original reason for joining and likely leaving him without motivation or will to really even stay in the powerful position he had worked to get into. Part of his suicidality is likely linked to this--that he set himself a massive, unbelievable goal in an attempt to gain power and wealth to finally help his people--only to be entirely too late. But in any case, these character stories make it clear that he did personally seek to join the IPC of his own free will.

(And I mean, hello? The whole point of Jade as a character is being the one who sees people's desires and then grants them--ergo, Aventurine's desire was, in fact, to join the IPC himself.)

If we needed any more corroborating evidence for this, just consider everything post-Penacony, when Aventurine has decided that he does actually value his life now and wants to live. Aventurine would have had so many chances to "escape" the IPC if he so chose. First, he could easily have pretended to actually die within the Nihility. He could have entirely fucked off with Argenti's help, created a new identity, and made himself a pile of independent wealth from gambles, all without the IPC ever knowing where he went. But he didn't.

Then, he had a second chance to betray the IPC and fuck off again with Boothill's help. Boothill had already knocked out Aventurine's bodyguards at the door--there was literally no one else around. A little blood on the floor and no one would have doubted that the IPC-hating, wanted vigilante Boothill had done away with Aventurine.

Hell, Aventurine knows the Trailblazer. One word to the Trailblazer, and Aventurine could board the Astral Express and be whisked off to the other side of the universe.

But none of those things happened. Aventurine made no effort to remove himself from the IPC--even though he knew he had broken a Cornerstone and would be facing possible punishment. He didn't even make a single mention of trying to "escape" the IPC at all.

Because he isn't trying to.

(And edit, an addendum, because I kept seeing this on Twitter too: A bunch of people were claiming that because Aventurine wasn't smiling when he got his Cornerstone back, that was evidence that he hates the IPC and doesn't want to be there:

Like... did they forget that every single time Aventurine makes his major gambles, he has such anxiety that he can never convince himself to believe he'll actually win, to the point that the "Future" Aventurine accuses him of clenching his trembling hand beneath the table? Is it really that surprising that someone who never actually believes he's going to win would have a shocked face when he does win here, especially after witnessing the literal power of an aeon restore something he thought was broken forever? Come on now...)

Would the guy who always wins his gambles bet that he would get a promotion if he absolutely didn't want his job?

People really, really seem to struggle with this aspect of Aventurine's character, going out of their way to ignore the game's text and suggest that he definitely absolutely would never, ever have joined the IPC of his own free will. People really hate the idea that Aventurine is a morally-grey character who makes choices that are actively harmful to himself, like willingly joining an organization that is exploiting him.

Knowing that the IPC played a part in the Avgin extinction, people literally cannot fathom that Aventurine would willingly join them.

But I think that denying this part of Aventurine's character is bad. There's no need to reduce Aventurine to an innocent, helpless victim who is being exploited against his will and who would never do a single evil thing himself. That's not who the game is telling us he is.

The game tells us, repeatedly, that Aventurine is a survivor who will do whatever it takes to succeed at whatever he sets his mind to--even up to murdering innocent people to survive himself. Up to willingly joining the IPC to seek wealth and power. He's not a 100% good person who is still being forced through an existence he has no control over.

He's a self-destructive gambler who makes terrible choices with his own life, and willingly joining the IPC to let the Stonehearts exploit his abilities is one of the most obvious indications of that in the game.

Please stop denying Aventurine his complex, three-dimensional character writing to make him your pure, innocent trauma woobie. I'm begging people.

Claim #4: Aventurine wants revenge on Oswaldo Schneider.

Verdict: There's no evidence in the game (yet) that Aventurine is even aware of Oswaldo Schneider's role in the Avgin extinction, let alone actively trying to seek revenge for it.

Personally, this one hurts me the most, because this is where I'd like to see the story going. I want it to be that Aventurine was partially motivated to join the IPC specifically to orchestrate an inside job and get the Avgins' revenge on Oswaldo Schneider.

But even I have to admit that there's currently no evidence for this at all in the story.

For one, we have no confirmation in-game that Aventurine actually knows Schneider's direct role in the Avgin extinction. Aventurine clearly knows that the IPC could have intervened (he was there; he saw they didn't do anything), but we have no actual confirmation in the game's text that Aventurine knows Schneider told his people not to get involved, leading to the massacre. The only reason we players know of this is relic text, which isn't available canonically to characters in the game.

It is very likely that Aventurine is smart enough to figure this out or do the research to learn it, but as of right now, we don't have that confirmation in game.

Similarly, we players are given no access to Aventurine's actual conversations with Boothill. We have no idea what they talked about other than this one statement:

It seems likely, based on this, that Aventurine did say something to Boothill about being willing to go after Oswaldo Schneider, but we won't know for sure until the game reveals more.

What we do know is that even if Aventurine does give Boothill information on Oswaldo, it might not really be because Aventurine wants personal revenge.

Oswaldo's Marketing Development Department is basically the sworn enemy of the Stonehearts' Strategic Investment Department. The two groups are in an internal cold war, vying for "votes" from the seven board members who are actually leading the IPC.

So even if we see Aventurine taking actions against Oswaldo, it might not be because of a personal grudge, but because literally Aventurine's entire department hates Oswaldo Schneider's guts on principle in the first place.

So it's very difficult to say what is going on with Aventurine and Oswaldo Schneider at this point, and in the end, we just need to wait for more information.

Phew, all right! That was definitely long enough. I've gotten it all off my chest. I hope I've managed to give people some more canon material to chew on for another look at Aventurine's character, which is rich and complex and definitely cannot be reduced to simply "pure innocent victim babygirl."

Maybe now I'll be a little less salty when I see misinformation spreading like a wildfire again on Twitter.

Maybe.

Ha ha, who am I kidding.

[saintobio]

BIKER SYLUS !! i repeat BIKER SYLUS !!

[sweetbunpura]

Spicy Takes: Heartslabyul

Yuu: Welcome to Spicy Takes! Where you ask the questions and we eat spicy food and possibly die! Today's episode is on the Heartslabyul boys!

Riddle: What did you say about dying?

Cater: I no longer want life, I crave death!

Deuce: Can I send a text to my mom first?

Trey, nervous smile: We'll be fine right?

Ace: How much you wanna bet this ain't even spicy?

Yuu: Say a prayer boys! *Slams down some spicy noodles* Cause we might not make it back!

Riddle, now slightly panicking: Might not make it back?

Cater, blares air horns on his phone: Let's gooooooo!

Trey: Yuu... What are these?

Yuu: Noodles that get increasingly more spicy with each hurdle we pass.

Deuce, picks up a package: This says 2 million scoville...

Ace: Oh, we're dying dying.

[hellenhighwater]

It's pepper jam time!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Spicy Six Drink Challenge:

(Based on that viral TikTok challenge where everyone adds a bit of something to the King's Cup, they mix it up and take shots)

Hi, I'm Nancy, and I'm going to add Sprite because I feel like everyone's just going to add liquor.

Hi, I'm Jonathan. I'm going to add orange juice because I heard Eddie say he's going to add half a bottle of Vodka.

Hey everyone, Argyle here. I'm just gonna add a little bit of lemonade because Eddie said he's going to add some Malibu.

Steve here, setting sail on this nasty bullshit of flavor we're making. I'm going to add all of the Coke we have because Eddie told me he's adding, like, a pint of Jack and I don't want to have to carry my boyfriend home.

I'm Eddie. I'm adding a can of Monster because I told each person here that I'm adding different types of alcohol so they'd make the ultimate master mix of flavors, and I'm forcing them to reap what they've sown.

Robin: *adds half of a bottle of gin*

Robin: *takes a shot* I'm gonna kiss Nancy tonight

[flowercrowngods]

it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted. 

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed. 

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie. 

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty. 

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do. 

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that. 

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t. 

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty. 

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit. 

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.” 

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse. 

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington. 

Easy. 

Right? 

Totally. 

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right? 

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face. 

A face that shouldn’t look so sad. 

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve. 

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself. 

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t— 

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch. 

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened. 

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.” 

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone. 

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real. 

God, he’s so hopeless. 

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now. 

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice. 

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it. 

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again. 

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there. 

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity. 

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days. 

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy. 

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really. 

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin. 

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin. 

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not. 

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there. 

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now… 

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him. 

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it. 

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that. 

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s;  threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever. 

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous. 

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things. 

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees. 

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together. 

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it. 

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit. 

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling  around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does. 

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere. 

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world. 

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin. 

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught. 

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him. 

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires. 

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything. 

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message. 

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried. 

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately. 

It’s driving Eddie insane. 

It’s too much. 

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him. 

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked. 

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more. 

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work. 

Knowing Steve, nothing works. 

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden. 

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane. 

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer. 

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest. 

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky. 

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away. 

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility. 

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That. 

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now. 

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something. 

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance. 

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum. 

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

“‘Kay.” 

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all. 

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world. 

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful. 

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but— 

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie. 

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real. 

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair. 

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean. 

“Good.” 

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it. 

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard. 

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel. 

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his... 

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores. 

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe. 

But that’s not what Steve does. 

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up. 

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever. 

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look. 

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him. 

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable. 

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught. 

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop. 

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing. 

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run. 

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time. 

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing. 

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it. 

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his. 

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold. 

To keep. 

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want. 

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump. 

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling. 

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again. 

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it. 

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone. 

And isn’t that an enticing thought. 

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve. 

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him. 

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…” 

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?” 

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now. 

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips. 

“Been wanting to do that forever.” 

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.” 

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?” 

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure. 

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off. 

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…” 

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time. 

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm. 

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“ 

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?” 

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow. 

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too. 

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high. 

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights. 

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.” 

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.” 

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?” 

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.” 

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips. 

“Is it working?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it. 

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become. 

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself. 

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.” 

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.” 

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“ 

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?” 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins. 

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release. 

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is  and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions. 

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body. 

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly. 

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought. 

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants. 

“I like you so much.” 

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him. 

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more. 

“I like you so much right back.” 

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them. 

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.” 

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.” 

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance. 

“Unfortunately.” 

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍