#because he throws a molotov cocktail or something

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Steve hears Eddie’s voice in The Upside Down.

It starts when they reach the vine infested attic of the Creel House, after they’ve lured the bats into the woods with a trail of fire, made them drowsy and stupid before setting them all ablaze; like a fucked up fairy ring, Steve had thought, and it had felt like exactly the kind of thing Eddie would think, and Steve’s trying to hold onto the words so he can remember to tell Eddie later; he wants to tell him—

He’s halfway up the stairs, stepping over a vine when he hears it.

“Shit. Oh, shit,” Eddie breathes.

He sounds so close, like he’s whispering in Steve’s ear.

And then he’s gone, and Steve’s turning to see Nancy and Robin just a step behind him—they haven’t heard anything, he can tell, but they both freeze for a moment, like they can read the fear on his face, something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.

But they all keep going, one step then another, and Steve thinks of history class, of soldiers going over the top.

He prays. Please, please…

More stairs. The door to the attic. Steve opens it.

Eddie’s voice again, high pitched and frightened. “H-hey, listen, man, you don’t—”

The sound is cut off abruptly; Steve feels a touch to the back of his hand. Robin.

He hands her the lighter, but he can see her hesitate out the corner of his eye, are you okay?

He shakes his head once, no time, and he smells a rag soaked with fuel when the voice comes again, still so desperately afraid, but hardening at the edges, “Oh, Jesus Chr—stop!”

“Steve.” Nancy next to him, eyebrows drawn.

There’s a Molotov cocktail in his hand that he can’t remember lighting.

Steve throws it.

He doesn’t even look to see if his aim is true, because Eddie is back, and his voice still shakes but there’s steel in its core, and Steve knows that all too well, knows the exact place it comes from: thinks of standing his ground in ‘84, knowing deep in his bones that it was down to him, that he’d do anything so long as the kids—

“Get away from them. I’m not—I’m not fucking messing around here, get away—”

Robin throws a bottle of her own; the flames soar, and Steve hears a new voice, dark and commanding—one he’s heard across the basketball court, but never quite like this.

“And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone—”

Nancy aims the gun.

“—where the beast and the false prophet are—”

Fires.

“—and shall be tormented day and night—”

Again.

“—forever and ever.”

Nancy steps forward, takes aim once more.

And Steve hears another pair of footsteps, someone running; he turns towards the sound, towards the door, and for a moment it’s almost as if he can feel Eddie rush past him like a ghost—wants to reach out, to grab his hand, but the sensation slips away like smoke; he’s too far away, he’s too…

Nancy takes the final shot. Henry Creel’s body shifts from something monstrous to something that’s smaller and human, but no less terrible for it.

Steve doesn’t watch. Can’t rid the feeling that it all rings false.

He can’t hear Eddie anymore. Can’t hear anything apart from the frantic thud of his own heartbeat, but that’s good, that’s good, he can work with that—lets it drive him forward, lets pure instinct take over so he’s grabbing the axe without a thought, swinging so it hits the vines still tangled on the wall, dormant, dead.

They break easily. Steve keeps going; there’s the barest hint of resistance, but all it tells him is that he’s on the right path, and then something gives, parts…

“Nance,” Steve says.

She’s right by him; he feels her hand around his wrist. From the way she squeezes tightly, knows that she’s already understood.

“Okay,” she says, fragile, “okay, okay.” A shuddering breath. “Steve, I can’t just—I have to—”

“I know,” Steve says softly, because he feels it, too: the awful thought that it’s all over too quickly. Senses Nancy’s anxiety as if it was his own, the desperate need to check, to stand vigil. Then—and only then—will she declare it over to herself.

He holds her hand, squeezes back. Lets go.

There’s movement to the left of him. Robin, her hair in her eyes, and that’s gonna bug her eventually, so Steve fixes it for her, tries to smile, to make this easy.

“Five minutes, okay?” he says—thinks of the elevator in Starcourt, how she counted the seconds passing with freakish accuracy. “No more.”

She opens her mouth, but Steve keeps talking before she can. “Promise me.”

She goes to shake her head.

“Robin, please,” he says, voice breaking.

Years ago, his mom got a phone call about the fatal car crash his uncle had been in. She’d picked up somewhere in between the second ring and the third, and then she’d screamed, and Steve had overheard without understanding—had still felt the echo of her grief.

He’s never told anyone that. But he wonders if Robin can see something of it on his face—that he’s stuck: still in between rings, the split second before the scream—because she’s nodding suddenly, close to tears, but so serious.

“I—I promise, Steve.”

He slips through the Gate in the wall, leaves them both behind—all he has to soothe him is a gut feeling, as the heat of Nancy setting the vines alight fades away: that The Upside Down is just a graveyard now. That there’s no danger to be found—not anymore.

Not in there.

He steps into the attic, where the floorboards are bare. Looks around sharply—Lucas and Max, huddled in the corner, and he can’t tell, he can’t tell if—

As Steve runs to them, a soft click filters through. Max, rewinding her tape; she’s not even looking at her Walkman, like she’s not even aware that she’s doing it. The headphones lie around her neck.

“Oh, thank God,” Steve finds himself whispering, gets one hand on Max, the other on Lucas, “thank God, thank God.”

They shake under his touch. Steve wants to shield them from every horror in existence, wants to swear to them that it’s over now, that they don’t have to do it anymore, but he has to—

“Where’s Eddie?”

It’s not a surprise when Max’s eyes dart to the door. Steve’s stomach drops anyway.

Lucas speaks, voice ragged, “Jason, he…”

And as Steve looks at him, the kid’s thirteen again, eyes wide with fear in the face of Billy Hargrove. You’re dead, Sinclair.

Steve pushes back a hot swell of anger. Hugs Lucas roughly, then Max, murmurs, “Okay, it’s okay. Stay right here. Nancy and Robin are coming, I promise.”

“Steve,” Max whispers when he’s at the door.

He turns back.

But it’s like she’s run out of words, shivering in Lucas’s arms. Still rewinding the tape, but her fingers are slipping now.

Lucas speaks for her—eyes off to the side, like he’s seeing something more than a Gate in the wall. “He had a gun.”

Steve checks a couple rooms, floorboards creaking no matter how quiet he tries to be. His heart’s still racing. It leads him to the staircase.

And Eddie’s right there, just a few steps down.

There’s the faint screech of a car driving away.

Eddie looks up at him. He’s standing obliquely, clinging to the bannister. His eyes shine in the dark, and Steve can just barely make out the evidence of bruises and cuts all across his face.

“He’s gone,” Eddie says with such relief.

I’ll kill him, Steve thinks numbly.

”I, um. I had to run,” Eddie continues, almost like he’s defending himself. “He—he wouldn’t listen, man. The kids, I… I couldn’t let him—”

“They’re fine,” Steve says, talks right over Eddie’s answering sigh, “we should go back up. Check on them.”

A pause.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Sure. Think I—think I just need a second.”

“Okay.”

Eddie smiles. It’s the worst thing Steve has ever seen.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his throat tight. The word is ash on his tongue. “Yeah, it worked. It’s finished.”

“Good.” Eddie inhales. “And you’ll—you’ll tell my uncle, right? Tell him I didn’t kill Chrissy.”

“Tell him yourself,” Steve snaps.

But Eddie’s shaking his head. Steve can visibly see the adrenaline draining from him: his arms shaking as his grip on the bannister falters.

“Nah, man,” Eddie says, his voice thick and wet with tears.

“Stop fucking crying,” Steve says, instantly ashamed as the words slip out—fear rendering him sharp and mean; Eddie’s hand slips, and he turns, “Oh my God,” Steve says uselessly, “Oh my God, Eddie,” because it’s not a dawning horror really, more a realisation that they’ve both been putting off.

Maybe Steve has known all along.

He gets hold of Eddie before he can fall, mutters, “Here, I’ve got—Jesus, just lie down.”

“No, I don’t—” Eddie kicks out aimlessly, panicking, “I don’t wanna lie down, I don’t wanna lie down.”

Steve ignores him. Presses down on Eddie’s abdomen, hands already slick with blood.

Eddie is hyperventilating. He keeps saying it, “I don’t wanna lie down,” until it devolves into just, “Steve, Steve, I don’t want to,” until it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about lying down at all.

“You won’t,” Steve says, “you won’t, Eddie, just—push down, okay? You’ve got to—here, here, just push—”

Eddie’s hands are slack in his, and as Steve pushes against him, harder, harder, he cries out, breathing so shallow, so quick, too quick, “I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

He thinks Eddie must be in too much pain to understand—his body still spasming, still weakly fighting against Steve’s pressure.

But then he feels Eddie’s hand move, loosely clasp around his wrist.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, still crying, but Steve can hear him smiling somehow, fuck, how can he even—?, “hey, S-Steve, it’s okay. Just—just want to go home.” He’s rambling, almost incoherent, “It’s not that far, it’s—take me home, please, please, can you take me home, just—”

“I will,” Steve lies. “We need to fix this first, okay? Eddie, are you listening? Then we can…”

He trails off at the sight of Eddie looking up at him, his eyes so big, so full of life, and Steve doesn’t understand the expression on his face, doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look like this; and he wants Eddie to explain it to him, just wants him to talk, wants to…

I want to tell him, Steve thinks nonsensically.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie murmurs, like he’s savouring Steve’s name. “You’re so…”

But Steve will never find out what he is, the rest of the sentence lost to a pained gasp.

“Don’t talk,” Steve says. Hates how harsh he sounds. “Eddie, just. Stay.”

Eddie smiles through blood. “I think I could’ve loved you.”

Steve hears movement from way above, a door slamming open, Robin and Nancy’s voices filtering down, still too far away to understand.

He could keep talking. Keep talking to Eddie.

But he knows.

The front door opens. Erica tears through it, screaming Lucas’s name, and then she stops in her tracks.

Dustin nearly collides with her from behind. Pulls her back, face slack with horror.

Steve leans over Eddie, desperately trying to shield him from them.

Dustin’s eyes meet Steve’s, over bright with fear; Steve thinks of him freezing in the graveyard, his own panicked shout, call Nancy and Robin!

He doesn’t want it to be too late.

“Call an ambulance,” Steve says, and Dustin’s eyes widen. He doesn’t sound remotely like himself, Steve knows, but he can barely even… Can only say it again, voice breaking horribly, “Call an ambulance!”

Dustin tugs Erica back. They run.

Steve stays right where he is. Looks down, and keeps looking—doesn’t turn away, not for anything, not even when it’s obvious that Eddie’s eyes are fixed and glassy.

He will bear witness to this.

[anxious-witch]

Inspired by this post by @purgatory606 because after seeing that, I wanted to talk about DBDA weapons/fighting styles of characters. Well Charles and partially Edwin here, I might also analyze Crystal and Esther in another post.

I'd like to start from the scene from the first episode where Charles is trying to teach Edwin self defense and he chooses boxing. Which is quite interesting, if a bit odd choice.

He gives Edwin boxing gloves, and then required him to his his palms, albeit protected, but still. Such an odd choice? Without anger or adrenaline from the fight, most people find it quite difficult to hit something-or someone particularly hard. Doubly so when a person holding a target you should be hitting is someone you care for. It's difficult to override your naturally instinct to pull your punch back, which is what I think happens to Edwin. Especially because he generally isn't someone who leans into violence, even in situations where it would be warranted.

I think we can presume Charles was either teaching Edwin how to fight in case he finds himself weaponless, given he doesn't have an infinite backpack, or he was judging by his own instict, not seeing how Edwin wouldn't want to use brutal force. If anything, Edwin would likely do better with a more precise, long range weapon. Like a sword, or a bow.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's look at Charles' weapons of choice and how he utilizes them. Throughout the s1, we see him use a cricket bat, a music box(?), a molotov cocktail and a sword.

Cricket bat is his preferred weapon of choice and as the og post said, bats are for pure, raw pain. Traditionally there is not much elegance or finesse with it. You use a bat when you want to inflict the most amount of hurt in the shortest and most brutal way possible. What I find interesting is the way Charles wields it, which he does in a way that is almost elegant.

We see him twirl it on several ocassions and while he does hold it in a way that one would expect would inflict most damage, I am not sure we ever see him use it that way? Esther knocks him down with her cane before he can, he doesn't actually get to use in on the Cat King, he beats up the Night Nurse with a music box, not his bat, he breaks David's mirrors in a way that he actually sends the bat flying, not actively smashing mirrors with brute force like one would expect. And when he faces Esther's snake, his bat breaks.

What does that tell us about Charles? I think his bat actually reflects him quite a bit. Both how he sees himself, and how people who don'tknow him well do. So many people make a mistake of writing his off as just the brawn, of someone only there to deliver lethal sort of damage. Even Charles himself seems to sometimes think of himself that way. Of someone capable of great violence. Because he thinks that's simoly what he is. A bat cannot be used for anything else but direct damage.

Except....Charles finds a way. His attacks may be brutal, but they are very precise as we saw in David scene. And even when we consider other insance when he used different weapons, thr only time his blow didn't land as expected was against Esther in episode one.

The attack against the Night Nurse was brutal amd seemingly uncontrolled, but he got the job done precisely the way he intended? He didn't kick her around mindlessly, he kicked her off the cliff to get rid of her and the sea monster they were trying to lull to sleep. It was violent yes, but he was still very aware of what he was doing.

Throwing the molotov cocktail at the Dollheaded Spider? Also very calculated to allow him and Edwin time to run. Hiss fight against the snake? Once he concluded brutal force of his bat wasn't working, he choose a very precise and deadly weapon instead. And used it perfectly, in quite an elegant move, too!

In conclusion, I think Charles' weapon of choice has more to do with his perception of self rather than his actual realities or abilities. Which I think is why we get a scene of the bat breaking in the last episode and have it replaced with a sword! His perception of self changed from a weapon more used for it's brutal force to a weapon more commonly associated with knights and heroes. I'd be very curious to see if the bat returns to s2 and how it'll be utilized

[melodyatlas]

Hello, in honor of your JayTimRoy post, I bring you the idea of Jason and Tim interacting like two feral cats in the same space, constantly sniping at each other or getting in each other's way, stealing each other's stuff (clothes) and cases, pranks that are deeply concerning to everyone involved (Jason shooting in Tim's direction with real bullets and shooting him with rubber ones and Tim hacking Jason's helmet and making it 'lightly' tazer him sometimes), stalking each other and regularly complaining about each other, just clinically incapable of leaving each other the fuck alone.

With Roy in the middle, able to interact with both of them completely normally. Tim is a weird kid, sure, but he's brilliant and good with tech and planning and contingencies, and if Roy calls him up for help on something Tim is there for him no questions asked. He's also weirdly sweet, like yeah he's a stalker but he uses it to send Roy his favorite foods and drinks when he's feeling down, or keeps an eye on Lian for Roy and sends him initially creepy but reassuring updates about where she is at all hours of the day.

(Tim DOES understand boundaries, honestly, and he doesn't literally watch Lian 24/7, but if she's at school or daycare or with someone else, Tim usually has eyes on her just in case. There's probably been a few kidnapping attempts that barely got off the ground before Roy or Jason were notified, or Tim just showed up himself if they weren't close enough.)

Jason is Roy's best friend and yeah he's rough around the edges and has his issues, but he's loyal to a fault and deeply protective. Like he'll bitch about Roy being an idiot and getting into trouble but always while he's patching him up and making him food and tucking him into bed and forcing him to rest and recover.

So Roy can see that Jason and Tim's animosity and weirdness for each other does not come from hate or dislike but from a deep feral NEED for each other, they are just completely incapable of being normal about each other. He can ALSO see that they are both completely unaware of it in themselves, like completely blind to the fact that for all their hissing and spitting and fucking with each other, they have every opportunity to just... NOT interact much, they COULD just leave each other alone, but even suggesting that makes them both glitch out because what? Leave each other alone?? Impossible.

And much as Roy would like them to figure it out themselves (and maybe chill, a little bit) he likes them both, they both like him, and he would like for the three of them to have a movie night in or go out to dinner together or go to the park with Lian sometimes without the two of them starting to bite each other.

And for as smart as Roy is and as good at planning as he is, he leans more towards Jason's "apply molotov cocktail to problem" brand of planning over Tim's "4D psychological chess with seventeen built-in contingencies" brand of planning (which to him is all the more reason Tim should join Team Red, because honestly they could use that level of planning and consideration for their missions. you can only throw so many molotovs at a problem before your problem is 'too much fire' at which point the molotov does NOT help)

So Roy invites Tim over ostensibly to help him design new weapons, confirms Tim is interested, and then bends him over the work table (once the explosives are cleared off) and fucks him nice and relaxed and stupid, then cleans him up just enough before depositing him on the couch and calling Jason home. When Jason comes home and sees Tim, naked except for one of HIS hoodies with clear bite marks on one side of his neck, and Roy wearing some loose sweatpants and no shirt, his brain glitches out long enough for Roy to say "he's still pretty relaxed from when I fucked him, you wanna take round two or can I go again?"

(He MAYBE could have introduced the idea a little more delicately, and admittedly he DID have to chaperone their first few times to smooth out the misunderstandings (things like Tim wants/needs to be held down and made to submit a little and Jason is terrified of pushing past someone's boundaries but also needs to bite Tim, hold down and SHAKE), but it all worked out in the end. He gets them to chill out enough that they can go on normal dates, and on movie nights Roy gets Jason as the perfect body pillow and Tim as the perfect weighted blanket and it rules.)

Roy is living his best life with his two feral boyfriends and really only has to hide from Batman that he's fucking two of his proteges since the rest of the Bat colony are basically like "fucking THANK YOU jesus CHRIST", because Jason and Tim are still unhinged about each other but at least they're AFFECTIONATELY unhinged now instead of constantly toeing the line of actively trying to kill each other. They work on cases together, Jason practically shoves Tim into his own (and Roy's) clothes, Tim steals Jason's tech (and Roy's) to upgrade it, they still bite and obsessively stalk each other (and Roy) but it makes them both feel reassured and loved.

aaaaaaaahh i have been thinking about this ask All Day, now that i'm finally at my computer i can respond with the time that it deserves 😂

you're so right, this is the exact dynamic they exude in spades. if someone didn't know them, its easy to assume that Jason and Tim do, in fact, hate each other, but Roy /does/ know Jason, and he's gotten to know Tim pretty well too from how much time he's been spending around them. so /Roy/ knows that they don't hate each other- if they hated each other, then Jason wouldn't miss when he shot at Tim, and he sure as hell wouldn't let Tim spend so much time in their safe houses, let alone the apartment Jason and Roy unofficially share in their off-time.

and if Tim truly hated Jason then he wouldn't bother with all the effort he puts in to work cases together, and he wouldn't spend so much time working to repair Jason's bonds with the other Bats. he probably still would rig up Jason's helmet to give him the occasional jolt or alter the voice modulator to make Jason sound like he just inhaled helium- just to be a little shit. but he definitely wouldn't make it so easy for Jason to fix.

Roy just gets so tired of getting caught in the middle of all of their little tiffs though, he's had to stop himself from just pointing out that Jason trying to strip Tim in the middle of their apartment because Tim stole his t-shirt isn't really "mortal enemies" behavior and clearly Jason just wants to see Tim naked. but /god/ did Roy want to point it out. especially when it happened more than once. Tim clearly doesn't realize the attraction either, because he never lets Jason catch him when they fight like that- always rushing from the apartment when Jason gets too close to pinning him. it's /probably/ a good thing, because Roy isn't sure Jason is at the point where he would know what to do once he actually catches Tim and takes the shirt off.

Roy wants to find out- wants to see Jason finally pin Tim down and strip him of all his stolen clothes and see what Jason decides to do with the bare Robin beneath him- but it hasn't happened and the longer it goes on the less patience Roy has with them.

Roy /likes/ Tim, /likes/ Jason, /likes/ seeing how they treat each other when they aren't exchanging blows (and sometimes when they are- but goddamn theres a limit to what he can take). he likes how Tim has inserted himself into their lives. Tim just /fits/ with them in ways that Roy wouldn't have guessed before he saw it himself. the way the little stalker genius helps them upgrade their equipment, the way he brainstorms with Roy about his projects, how he brainstorms with /Jason/ over cases, the way he plays with Lian is terribly heartwarming. he's stopped two kidnapping attempts with his stupid stalker tendencies, and after stopping the second one himself, Roy added Tim to the list of emergency contacts at Lian's school. he picks her up sometimes at /her/ request- and damn if that wasn't a blow the first time it happened. but Lian says Tim is funny and that he's better at coloring than Roy is.

so yeah, Roy wants Tim to stay in their lives, and he wants it to be in a calmer manner than currently because of this imagined beef with Jason due to them just being so infuriatingly obsessed with each other.

when Roy's patience finally runs out he decides to do something about it. invites Tim over under the guise of wanting a second pair of eyes on his latest weapons design project. the way Tim gives all of his focus to the project, clearly stating what he thinks should be changed and improved- it's cute how into it he is. there's something about the focus of a little genius like that- even when he's kind of dissing some of the work that Roy (who is also a genius) already put into it. Roy finds it funnier than anything else.

they finish the weapons talks and while Roy is cleaning up the work table he casually strips off his sweaty work shirt, using it to wipe his face and carefully checking Tim's line of sight and expression. bingo. Tim has a good poker face, but he's not hiding his gaze at all, eyes glued to newly exposed spanse of Roy's skin. so Roy tests his luck, shoots Tim his most charming smile, and takes him by the hips to draw him in. there's the barest moment of hesitation before Roy brushes their lips together and Tim melts into the contact.

it heats up quickly from there- a blur of touching and kissing and stripping each other until Tim is bare and bent over the work table, cheeks spread around Roy's length as he buries himself into the little bird. Roy digs his teeth into Tim's neck, sucking and biting and purposefully leaving marks because he /needs/ Jason to see the evidence later.

Tim thrusts back into his hold, meeting him thrust for thrust, until Roy makes his way up to mutter filthy words into Tim's ear, telling him how good he looks, how good he's taking it- how good it'll look to see him take Jason later and Tim /loses/ it when Jason is brought up. his noises had been soft- held back- but at just the idea of getting railed by Jason, Tim's voice ratchets up in volume and he somehow melts even further against the table, whining and rutting unevenly.

it doesn't last much longer, both of them having been building up to this for so long. and the idea of getting to go again when Jason gets home urges them on even faster. so they finish up and Roy gets Tim all cleaned up, handing over Jason's hoodie for him to wear instead of the clothes he came in with.

Roy is a little worried he broke Jason when he freezes at Roy's invitation to fuck Tim, but the animalistic noise Jason lets out when he finally moves make him realize this was probably best case scenario. it /is/ hard for Jason and Tim at first, going from having been in such denial for so long to finally having each other is a shock. and with Jason being a little scared of how roughly he wants to treat Tim- of not wanting to push /too/ far but wanting So Much from him. and with Tim not being able to just /say/ that he not only /wants/ the rough treatment from Jason, but really /needs/ it, makes it even harder on them. Roy personally thinks how lucky they are to have him there to smooth out the bumps as they start out, but then that makes him think about how lucky he is to have them in his life just the same.

he didn't expect Dick to practically /thank/ him when they finally talked after Dick found out he's been screwing both of them, but the relieved way he talks about how much easier theyve been to work with makes it easy for Roy to read between the lines.

[spacelazarwolf]

how long do you think we have until people start shouting "free palestine" before committing supervillain shit. I don't mean like shoot up a synagogue (something that, tragically, has already happened) i mean like chainsaw random puppies and kitties in half while livestreaming it for kicks. i'll bet on early april

i mean i don’t think people are going to be doing that. they’re not interested in violence for violence’s sake. they’re interested in violence as an emotional outlet for their understandable anger about what’s happening in palestine, but as per usual the people on the receiving end of that emotional outlet will be jews. they’re going to continue vandalizing and throwing molotov cocktails at synagogues and community centers, targeting jews and jewish businesses, doxing jews, attacking jews, and doing the same shit they’ve been doing since jews were forced into the diaspora.

and don’t get me wrong, i have absolutely no doubt we are going to see increased violence soon, especially during ramadan and easter and pesach. especially after seeing stuff like this:

i have no doubt that during easter we’ll see some art with him depicted as jesus. they’ve got their martyr and now anything they do is to avenge him. he died violently, therefore violence is not only the proper response but the only correct response. it feels good to get angry, to break things, to take that anger out on someone you think is complicit in the thing that made you angry. and jews have always been a very good scapegoat for that righteous anger.

it’s going to get worse, absolutely, but not bc people these days are somehow cartoonishly evil but because it’s the status quo and until people decide to reject it we will continue to suffer the same violence that’s been imposed on us for centuries.

[milf-harrington]

For the made-up fic title prompt:

"Just another normal doomsday"

♡

Just Another Normal Doomsday

Hawkins, 1987.

"I'm just saying, punk rock gay sex is different to hippy gay sex."

"How?"

Robin shrugged, stirring her straw through her milkshake before lifting the whole cup to her mouth to drink it. "It's sexier."

She was sitting with her legs crossed underneath her, back leaning against the bus window so she could face where he was sitting across the aisle. The bus was pleasantly dim, but watery sunlight streamed through a gap on her side and bathed her face in blue shadows while her hair lit up with bronze at the ends.

Steve snorted, leaning sideways with one leg stretched over the aisle, muddy sneaker propped up on the edge of Robin's bench. A cardboard tray filled with chips was nestled in his lap, the corners darkened with grease and grainy with salt.

"You're just saying that because your parents are hippies."

From Steve's backpack, their walkie (one they shared, with masking tape scribbled over in colourful markers stuck to the back, their names written in each others handwriting) crackled to life, codes carried out in a cloud of static that made them both sigh in unison.

Robin burped, dropping her empty milkshake cup back into the bag their food had come in. "No," She protested, milk lining her upper lip before she wiped it away. "I'm saying it because it's true."

"They're both gay!"

"But being punk rock is gayer!"

He flicked a chip crumb at her when she reached for her bag, watching it dodge her flailing attempts at a block and get stuck in her hair. "I'm telling Eddie you called him gay."

She blinked at him, face scrunched up in the same expression she used to give him whenever he opened his mouth at Scoops. "Eddie is gay, and I'm telling him that you called him punk rock-"

Something outside shrieked, high and rattling like broken glass against a sheet of metal. They shared a look like the ones they used to share at Family Video, when customers were being unreasonable and they couldn't say anything about it or they'd get fired.

Steve leaned down to grab his bat from the floor, wiping the grease off of his hands onto his jeans as Robin stood and stretched. There was still a deep purple bruise tucked into the inner corner of her eye from a demo-bat attack on patrol a few days ago, and Steve felt the matching one on his shoulder twinge when he hauled the nail-bat over it.

"He won't do anything," He told her, stepping in front to take the lead as they moved towards the front of the bus. The windows were still sloppily boarded up from a night that felt like a hundred years ago, just Steve and a bunch of kids who were in over their head. "I call him punk all the time, I think he's grown immune to it."

They stopped at the door, Robin squeezing past to stand on the other side, where the controls were. They stayed quiet, peering through the dirty glass to get a grasp of the how many and where. Dustin's code said three, but they'd been wrong before.

"Yeah, but if he hears you've been spreading that around?" Robin whispered, reaching behind her to wrap bandaged fingers around the lever. She whistled low, mostly breath, and Steve rolled his eyes. "You won't have to worry about demodogs, is all I'm saying."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, tightening his grip on the bat as the door shuttered open and a gust of warm air hit his face.

He crept outside, second-hand work boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he listened to Robin hurry up the ladder to the roof. She was going to yell directions and throw molotov cocktails while he did the actual hard shit. Technically the lookout part was supposed to be Eddie's job, and Robin was meant to be at Steve's back with her axe, but apparently they were at a crucial stage of the campaign and he "couldn't miss it".

Part of Steve hoped he'd get eaten, if only to get his boyfriend to reorganise his priorities a bit.

A half hour later, Steve leaned against the side of the bus, sweaty and panting while Robin offered him her water-bottle. She reeked of cheap alcohol and the sharp smell of burning, glittering shards of glass caught in her fringe. Gore dripped from the nails in his bat, and one of the dogs had gotten a good swipe at his shin, but he remained mostly un-grievously-injured. He still hurt everywhere though, body complaining about all the diving over and around and behind random bits of junk and machinery.

"Metal gay sex is probably gayer than punk rock gay sex." He decided, and Robin hummed thoughtfully.

"You'd know."

He shrugged, tilting his head with an ehh. "I've never slept with a punk so I can't be sure, but you've met Eddie."

"I have indeed. Speaking of- are we having dinner at Wayne's tonight?"

Steve groaned - not in complaint, it's just that his everything hurt and he'd forgotten about their dinner plans - and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and damp with sweat and monster blood. Overhead, a flock of demobats shrieked and weaved among each other, not bothering with the two of them as they headed off towards the quarry.

"Yeah, I said we'd pick up mince for that chuck-in he makes, but that was before the butcher got eaten this morning and I don't think Melvald's is open today."

Robin sighed, scooping up her bag and shrugging it over her shoulder. She held out a hand, fingers spread and wiggling expectantly, and he grinned as he clasped their hands together.

The headed off towards the tracks, a short-cut to the trailer park, and swung their hands back and forth between them.

"I could make that pasta my mum taught me?" Robin offered. "Pretty sure the Munson's will have all of that."

He groaned, this time in delight, and swung their hands a bit higher like a kid on the swings excited to touch the clouds. "God yes, please."

[steviewashere]

hello!! steddie and 38 for the kiss prompt?? 💕

Hey, hey! <3 As a heads up, you might hate me for this. Everybody might hate me for this, lol. But here we go <3

Number 38: "Because they're running out of time."

CW: Eddie Munson Nearly Dies Here Tags: Season 4, Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends Steddie, Friends to Strangers to Friends?, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confession, Near Death

🕰️—————🕰️ When they structured the plan to go back into the Upside Down, Nancy had suggested that Eddie and Dustin team up for the demobats. Now, Steve loves Nancy—not in that way—but he thought that that was one of the dumbest things he’d ever heard come from her mouth. And she’s incredibly intelligent, like mad scientist level intelligent, surpassing everybody on this earth kind of intelligent.

“Dustin should go with Lucas and Max,” he argued, “and I’ll stay with Eddie.”

The room had fallen silent. Until, Robin piped up, “But we’re going to need your pitching arm, Steve. That—We need somebody to throw the molotov cocktails.”

He scoffed. “No, you don’t. Robs, you used to play softball before getting on the soccer team. You two will be perfectly fine without me. And, besides, if things go haywire—Abort. Walkie on your channel, and we’ll fucking take our losses and replan all this bullshit.”

While the room had erupted into an intense argumentative cadence, Steve held his ground. Looked to Eddie. To his panicked eyes that had not once calmed since they met—again.

Steve knew what he was getting into when they found Eddie. They hadn’t been friendly and sweet on each other since middle school. Since being little kids, but that didn’t mean Steve wouldn’t at least try again. That he wouldn’t put up a fight and demand to be put in Eddie’s corner. So he held onto this, held out on this change in plans, because Eddie looked back on the sofa. He looked to Steve with something like…longing. Like he wanted to reach out and take Steve’s hand. And if the room hadn’t been full of people that just wouldn’t understand, Steve would’ve taken the plunge. He would’ve indulged.

He should’ve indulged, now that he’s kneeled on the ground in a pile of limp demobat bodies. Eddie is in his arms, blood soaked and babbling. And Steve wishes they could start again.

“Keep looking at me, Eds,” he pleads, “look at me and…and tell me one of your stories. You’re good at that. Can you do that?”

For a moment, Eddie’s breath catches. And in those grave seconds, Steve thinks it's over. He brings his hand, which was laying over Eddie’s waist, and places it on his chest. On Eddie’s slow beating heart and his rattling lungs. And he presses. As if, by his touch alone, Eddie would continue to live.

Steve wants him to live. Wants to get him out of here. Get him to safety and hold him and clean his hair and go swimming in Lover’s Lake like they did as kids over the summer. Take Eddie by the hand and go hiking through the woods, turn over every rotting branch to look at worms, and be gifted with rocks Eddie deems cool enough. Ride their bikes until their legs ache and their stomachs are sick and they’re craving lemonade and cookies. Wants to love on him forever because he was a fool; gave it all up for…what…popularity?

Eddie gasps wetly. Coughs up blood from the back of his throat, it drips sluggishly down his chin. Instinctively, Steve cradles his jaw and wipes it all away. Until it’s tacky and red on his own skin. Then, Eddie’s eyes sweep over to him. He blinks. Cries silently. And states, quiet enough for only mice to hear, “’86 is going to be my year, Stevie.”

“Yeah?” Steve prods, breathless and on the verge of crying himself. He thumbs at Eddie’s tears. “Tell me, Eds. Tell me how it’s gonna be your year.”

Another rattling, wet breath. “Graduate,” Eddie mutters, “and…and play with the band. I was—G’nna go to y’r house. Give…Give you a sunflower. You…My S’v’ie likes flowers.” He stares up at Steve, but Steve doesn’t feel very looked at. Like maybe Eddie’s seeing something beyond him, above him. He bites his lip and cradles Eddie’s jaw again.

“I do,” Steve whispers, “I loved when you gave me flowers, Eds.”

He sniffs and tries not to think about the dried petals of flowers he kept over the years. Ones that he stashed away in old books given to him by Wayne. That reside in his dresser drawers and in a cardboard box in his closet. Tries not to think about taking Eddie home with him, after all this is over, and showing him all the things he kept.

How, in moments where Steve felt lost, he pulled out the rocks and books and other trinkets, and wondered. Where Eddie was. What he was doing. Why he forced himself away from the only friend, sans Robin, that felt real.

“S’eve?” Eddie weakly calls.

He only hums, pressing his thumb deep into the going cold skin of Eddie’s right cheek.

Eddie reaches a clumsy hand up to Steve’s face, but doesn’t quite reach. So Steve ducks closer. Lets Eddie pull him in towards his face. Wipe away his own tears. Caress the few moles by his ear.

“I love you,” Eddie breathes. Inhales with a gurgle and Steve sobs in turn. “Love you, S’eve. Wanted…Been wantin’ you for forever.”

“Eds…”

In one fell swoop, Eddie pulls Steve in all the way. Noses along Steve’s. Then, with the strength of a newborn deer, he presses his lips to Steve’s. They’re slick with blood and drying tears. Chapped, split at the corners. He moves slowly while Steve tries not to devour. Eddie’s hand drapes over the back of Steve’s neck, neither grasping nor safe anymore. But he kisses. Like…

Like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it.

Maybe it is, Steve realizes in those few seconds. Because Eddie’s breath grows shallower, raspier between them. He gurgles blood into Steve’s mouth. And that’s tasted on Steve’s tongue, metallic and sweet and harmful. Maybe it doesn’t need to be.

Steve forces them apart. Lets Eddie try and drag him back, but doesn’t go back to that kiss. “Save…Save it, Eds,” Steve begs, “Save it for when we’re home and—I can show you how much I love you, too, okay? Can you—“

“Can’t,” Eddie slurs, “I…S’v’ie.”

He presses another soft kiss, this time to Steve’s thumb, where it’s still close to the split corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t look back.

“S’v’ie, love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds,” Steve murmurs meekly. “I’ll take you home, okay? I can—“ He takes a sharp gasp, sobbing through an exhale. “—Kiss me tonight. You stay with me and kiss me,” his voice wavers, “kiss me like we were never apart.”

“‘M’kay.”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve sighs, crying softly, “okay.”

Though it pulls on all his injuries, Steve hefts them up off the ground. Grimaces at Eddie’s pained yelp. And moves one foot after the other. They can’t be running out of time, Steve tries to digest.

Because he just got his boy back. They can’t be. I can’t be, Steve believes, hefting Eddie’s nearly limp body through the portal. I won’t.

🕰️—————🕰️ Kiss Ask Game <3

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (19)

part 19 of ?? | 1018 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

He looks up from jamming a rag into a Molotov cocktail, both startled and completely unsurprised to see Eddie standing there. From the drawn look on his face, it must be time for Steve to finish that conversation from the woods.

I took a posting break on Sunday, but here's slightly more words than usual to make up for it.

19.

“Steve, a word in the RV?”

He looks up from jamming a rag into a Molotov cocktail, both startled and completely unsurprised to see Eddie standing there. From the drawn look on his face, it must be time for Steve to finish that conversation from the woods.

His eyes slide over to Robin. “You mind finishing these?”

She shoots him a flat look. “Oh, no, whatever will I do without your strong and manly assistance with these last two bottles?”

“Suffer?” Steve suggests brightly, and slaps both hands on his knees to lever himself up. The bites on his torso ache still, a constant background throb even after redressing them with a field kit from the War Zone. He waves towards the RV. “Lead the way, Munson.”

Following Eddie up the steps, he doesn't comment on the fact that Eddie’s boxers are riding up while his jeans, supported by barely any ass at all, are riding down. That would make it too obvious that he’s been looking. Noticing it a while ago while the guy was play-wrestling with Dustin doesn’t exactly help his case there.

Eddie’s energy is . . . strange, for him. He’s always a little restless, messing with his hair or fidgeting with his rings. But now there’s an unfamiliar, almost pained pinch to his mouth now, and the degree of fidgeting is astronomically high. Even for the guy who Steve once witnessed get detention for dropping his pencil too many times during a five question pop quiz.

As soon as the door shits behind them, Eddie wheels around and launches straight into it. “Why the fuck did you pay me, Steve?”

Those deep brown eyes settle on him, trying to bore into him to get at the truth by sheer force of will. Steve still has yet to decide for sure if he wants Eddie to look at him, but it’s happening now and it’s making his breath catch in his throat. (Even though he's pretty sure Eddie hates him on principle.) He fixes his own gaze on Eddie’s hands, twitching in agitation at his sides.

“I know it’s not because you didn’t want me to tell Robin where I saw you,” Eddie continues, “or because you had the money to throw around. So why?”

Steve frowns at the second part. “Who told you that?”

“Dustin said your dad cut you off a while ago. And some of the other kids confirmed when I asked.” Eddie’s hands flex, fingers curling hard into his palm. If there were more light in here, his rings would glitter in it; Steve’s never seen that before, because they’ve almost always met each other at night. “Answer the fucking question.”

“Alright.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, which pulls at his injuries, but not so much that he can’t ignore it. “Dustin told me about your uncle being sick.”

“He. . . . He what?”

Steve meets Eddie’s shocked deer-in-the-headlights stare (fucking Bambi eyes that make him feel rooted where he stands) and shrugs. “Told you he’s a butthead. But, uh . . . yeah, he was all upset when he first found out, because he kinda lost his dad the same way.”

“You—” And there Eddie's hands go, flying up to his hair, one on top of his head as if to keep it from popping off and the other twisting into a clump of it. “You knew about that? This whole time?!”

Despite not having anything to hide, nothing he’s ashamed of in this, Steve’s first instinct is still to backpedal. Something about seeing Eddie all doe-eyed and squeaky and . . . he looks like he feels bad.

“Yeah?” Steve ventures, running a hand through his own hair, and worries a corner of his lip with his teeth. “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to like the guy I was in high school, and I’m not asking you to. The bottom line is that it’s shit I’m trying to make up for now, and I knew you weren’t blackmailing me just to be a dick, so . . . yeah, I just sort of went with it.”

Eddie makes a sound of objection, but otherwise doesn’t interrupt. 

“I gave you money. I helped somebody not die—" Steve ticks them off on his fingers as he goes "—and didn't even get another concussion doing it, which is a new personal record. Oh, and I figured out how to make ends meet. Which is something I really need to know, considering my job prospects since I didn’t go to college. Mutual, uh. . . .” Steve frowns, shrugs. “We both got something out of it. It’s not that big a deal.”

And the thing is, he means it. He walked into this knowing what he was getting into, accepting it right from the start.

They stare at each other for a long moment before Eddie shakes his head in disbelief and leans back against the kitchenette table like it’s a stool.

“You’re something else, Harrington,” he mutters, rubbing both hands over his face. “I can’t believe you’re a good dude, it flies in the face of everything I believe . . . and fucking yet.” Sighing, he peeks over the tips of his fingers with big, expressive eyes that, for once, aren’t glaring or squinting at Steve suspiciously.

The warmth creeps up into Steve’s face. It’s not exactly a standing ovation, but Eddie Munson isn’t known for doling out praise to jocks. 

It’s been a long day, and they’re in for an even longer night. There isn’t much time to process what’s happening. But he takes exactly one step forward, no plan in mind, only knowing that while Eddie isn’t looking he can move again—

“Steve,” Robin yells, with a bang on the side of the RV. “Your kids were playing with sharp spear-knives and had an accident, bring band aids stat!”

Sighing, he redirects to grab the first aid kit. When Eddie drags his hands down to open his eyes again, Steve offers a rueful half-smile. “We’ll finish this up after?”

He doesn’t actually wait for an answer, but it doesn’t look like Eddie has anything lined up to say, the way his jaw drops.

[textingtroublesanswers]

hi my favorite mercenary blorbos (and hello unfathomably based author ily and I love this fic/platonic)

What is the stupidest thing anyone on base has ever done? (incl Miss Pauling haha)

-Gnarff

:] have a nice day

Mod B: I am unfathomably based :D!

Ludwig rubs the bridge of his nose, "Stupidest thing anyone has ever done? My my, you are not making this easy on me."

Mikhail nods, scratching his chin, "Hard choice, hard choice. Doktor once got stuck in wall during match, because he forgot to take backpack off."

Ludwig snorts, "That is hardly THE stupidest thing anyone has ever done. Scout recently drank antifreeze!"

"Second time. If it happens more than once, is not as stupid." Ludwig levels him with a glare, but he does have to admit there's some truth to that.

"Engineer built us a tactical disco ball only once."

"Da, but was fun until little Scout throw something at it & activate guns on it."

"Sniper once brought a live crocodile to the base."

"Is Australian. I ask Engineer afterwards, & he say it was normal."

"What about Pyro making molotov cocktails to throw into piles of paperwork & taxes?"

"Doktor helped her."

"I'm the only man on this base who fills out the paperwork, it was catharsis. Ok, but you have to admit that Soldier rocket jumping with leg casts was both stupid, & weirdly smart."

"Maybe. Maybe... Oh, I know what is stupidest thing someone on base once did." Mikhail grins down at Ludwig cheekily.

Ludwig swallows nervously, "Aheh. Go on?"

Mikhail grins even wider, "Someone on base, Heavy won't give out name, once threw temper tantrum at dinner, because he got months messed up & thought someone else forgot their anniversary."

"I wouldn't call it a 'temper tantrum'." Ludwig huffs.

Mikhail comes up behind him & hugs him, "Nyet, just being whiny, needy baby." Ludwig crosses his arms, even as Mikhail begins to kiss him.

"It was a moment of weakness... You love me, don't you, Kuschelbär?"

"Forever, мой голубушка."

[knzjyd515]

More FT headcanons! Remember to please not hate on me just because of differing opinions. These are literally just headcanons and this is a fandom. It's all in good fun, so don't take it too seriously!

•Mirajane is asexual. It's why she ships so much.

•Sorry to any Minerva fans, but she's the way Ultear viewed herself before her sacrifice: rotten to the core. Evil. I don't care about the big cutesie eyes, she's evil and actually hates Sting's Sabertooth. She views it as weak.

•There's a special fireproof room somewhere in the Fairy Tail Guild Hall when Natsu wants a drink. Fireball? Cute. Try molotov cocktail. Just imagine.

Cana: I'mma throw it.

Makarov: CANA ALBERONA-

Cana: Why not? He eats fire. It's perfect.

Makarov: NO-

Cana: *lights the molotov and chucks it* BOTTOMS UP, NATSU!

Makarov: CANA

•All the Dragon Slayers became besties after the Acnologia fight. You don't just go through that hell and not form some sort of bond.

•This one was formed with @nalunalu a while back: Laxus likes to shock Natsu when he's bored and Natsu is around because his reactions are funny. Like, Natsu just jumping around as Laxus zaps at his feet. Lightning hopscotch, anyone?

•Sting wears jackets lined with fur and stuff like that because they remind him of Weisslogia. After all, he was the only dragon with fur... hair... mane... something... whatever you wanna call it.

•Reptiles are scientifically proven to be able to see the colors we're capable of seeing and then some. Because of the bits of dragonification that happened before the dragons enchanted themselves into their adoptive children, First and Third generation Dragon Slayers see the same color spectrum a dragon would.

That's it from me for now!

[fastcardotmp3]

She didn’t trust them until Nancy got mad over Robin insinuating she didn’t understand the impact of NINA, got well and truly in Robin’s face about they used my best friend as bait to understand the toothy fuckers better and you think I don’t get it? She didn’t trust them until Nancy. End of sentence.  » Ronance & Stobin // Rated T // Apocalypse AU // 2.4k » Febuwhump #10: Truth Serum & "Please don't" » Febuwhump Masterlist

read on ao3 // preview under the cut

The monsters came when Robin was eleven. 

The earthquake opened up crevices in the ground, jagged and dangerous things, and then three months later, the monsters came, and then in the chaos so did NINA. 

They pushed those of them already at the bottom of the ladder further down it in the name of protection. They put up fences and created curfews and took charge of the law with the fist of the military and Robin was eleven when it started but she learned how to fight fast. 

Her parents were some of the first to push back, to see their protectors for what they were and call them by their proper name: fascists, Robbie, born out of the power vacuum. They want us to rely on them so they can control us, but if we want to survive this we can’t let them, understand? 

Robin was eleven when the monsters came, and she learned how to fill a Molotov cocktail with young, uncalloused hands, learned how to rough them up with the handle of a throwing ax launched again and again at the trunk of a tree until she could hit the same spot every time. 

She was eleven and then she was twelve and fifteen and she was a freedom fighter because her parents never let her forget what it was like before. Never stopped finding her books to read and music to listen to and stories, so many stories to bury herself in. They stoked the fire in her gut to push back and they gave her hope for a future where it wasn’t like this and she believed them. 

Robin believed them, and that was maybe her downfall, the believing. 

She met Steve Harrington when she was seventeen, a boy raised in the barracks where they taught him how to control, how to lead, how to follow orders. She met him during the same week he decided to get out of that place and she met him while she was trying to get in. Cause some chaos. 

They both learned how to fight young, fight hard, fight tooth and nail without much strategy but a lot of vigor, and it got them locked up underground for three days straight. Broken fingers and something they claimed to be truth serum, Steve didn’t have any information to give up yet, but Robin did. 

Robin had plenty and she kept it to herself, kept it safe, kept it hidden, escaping with that stuff still running through her veins and a broken boy hanging off her broken shoulders and so much pride to show her parents what she’d survived only to find that they hadn’t. 

They hadn’t.

[asirensrage]

there's a heaven above you (don't you cry) - Part 14

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: violence, arson, swearing, breaking and entering, sex…

Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. Notes: This will be a poly pairing, so if you’re not into that, don’t read. It’s not beta-read so I hope you’ll forgive me but enjoy!

previous/masterlist also on ao3 and ffn

Chapter 14: Don't Get Mad, Get Even

Now that she had forgiven the vampires, Darcy had a feeling she was never going to get rid of them. It was bad enough when she first met the men. Now that she was actually letting them in, she was pretty sure she might have to spray them with a hose filled with holy water to keep them away. 

“What happened to you?” 

She looked up to see Clark walking into the store. “What do you mean?” 

His face scrunched up like he didn’t want to answer. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

Darcy grinned. “You sure?”

“Very. I just came by to warn you that those surf assholes are looking for you.” 

Darcy sat up straight. “Me?”

“Yeah. They’re saying you're the reason their place burned down. You and one of those bikers.” 

She didn’t stop the smile that grew at the reminder of the night before. The encouragement of her violence was so deeply pleasing to her that she could barely put it into words. She had always been told she was the problem, something to use and to fix. It was never like that with these men. “Oh…well, that’s because we did.” 

Clark’s eyes went wide. “You did?” 

Darcy leaned against the counter, resting her arms on it. “Wouldn’t that be a story? Imagine if we just Molotov cocktailed the place, once we made sure it was empty, of course. But that would be crazy…after all, we’re pretty distinctive, aren’t we?” She probably should have felt bad for what she was doing, but Darcy had enough run-ins with the police to know that if there was no actual proof, they couldn’t pin anything on. Witness testimony from other punks didn’t hold up, especially if no one could say she actually confessed to them. 

He frowned slightly, unsure if she was telling the truth or not. “So…did you?”

Darcy tilted her head, watching him. “Do you think I would?”

“I think they would.” She knew exactly who he was referring to. 

“Probably,” she agreed. They were going to have to do something about that though if the surf assholes were looking for her. She wasn’t worried about them going after the boys. The whole vampire thing worked in their favour. Darcy just wanted to make sure any retaliation against her wasn’t going to impact Sampson, Clark, or the innocent people at the motel she lived at. 

Clark left without a word now that his warning was given. Not unusual. Darcy settled back in her chair and started planning. 

The boys were waiting for her as soon as the sun set. Of course they were. Darcy made a note to talk with them about the concept of boundaries and what hers were. This time though it saved her a trip from trying to find them, especially since they preferred to hang around the boardwalk and she preferred to avoid it. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked as soon as she was close enough. 

“Then wait for you? Nah, girl.” 

David held out a hand for her, inviting her to his bike. She was tempted to choose someone else just because but she decided to throw him a bone. She let him guide her behind him. The engine under her was warm and she wrapped her arms around David’s waist before he took off without warning. 

The good thing about riding with David was that despite his mullet, he had less hair than the others, allowing her to easily see what they passed. Pedestrians dove out of the way as they crossed the boardwalk. They drove through the sand, laughing as they sprayed some of the people hanging around bonfires. 

Darcy recognized the cliffs that made up the entrance to their lair. Paul swept her up off of David’s bike into a hug, before she dug her fingers into his ribs. She had no clue if it hurt but it was enough that he squirmed before Marko yanked Paul into a headlock and he was forced to let her go. Dwayne was at her side, offering to help her down. She stood at the top of the rickety metal stairs before she turned. “You’re going to have to carry me. I’m not walking down this.”

She heard someone laugh but Dwayne was dutiful in the way that he carefully picked her up and held her firmly against him. She closed her eyes but it only took seconds before she could feel that they were in the cave. Dwayne set her down gently. 

“Thanks,” she told him. 

“Don’t have to thank me, rosy-girl,” his fingers brushed her cheek. She was suddenly reminded of that night in the cave when he brought her funnel cake to celebrate karma hitting that animal abuser hard. 

“We told you,” David’s arm wrapped around Darcy’s waist, drawing her away from Dwayne. “We’ll take care of you, Darcy.” He dropped down on a chair, pulling Darcy with him. 

“Yeah? What does that entail?”

“Whatever you want, babe!” Paul called out as he made his entrance. Marko followed behind. The two of them playfully shoved each other. 

She focused on the way David’s arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against him. He pressed his face into her hair, grip tightening slightly. “Are you hungry?” 

“A bit,” she admitted.

“Marko! Go get some food.” 

“Darce! Anything you want?”

“I’m not picky,” she called out, leaning back into David. Marko grinned before disappearing. 

David’s hand slipped under her shirt, softly stroking her stomach as he kissed her neck. It was strange to feel so comforted by the action considering what he was. She can’t stop the flinch though as his thumb presses against the surgical scar on her left side. He paused. His thumb stroked the scar again and Darcy forced herself not to react to it. 

“What happened?” His voice was low, laced with a threat that she knew wasn’t aimed at her. 

“It’s from a surgery,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. It’s not enough as the others seem to hear. She found herself quickly surrounded. 

“Surgery?” Paul asked. “What happened? Wrong side of a knife after you swung a bat at them?” it was playful, but the same threat was in his voice that was in David’s. “

She smiled at the promise in them. It was an odd thing to know that there were people who were prepared to fight for her, especially considering why she had that scar in the first place. “No, I had to donate part of my liver.” 

There was a moment of silence that suddenly felt suffocating. 

David’s grip tightened. “Had to?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “My sister needed it.”

The men look at each other, a silent communication she wasn’t a part of. She tried not to let it grate. 

“You offered?” Paul asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

Her throat tightened, a familiar lump growing in response to the question. There was never a chance to offer. She simply had to. She can practically hear her family telling her that she should consider herself lucky, that she should be grateful she can help, that she is so selfish!

“Darce?” A hand tilted her face up, back towards David who was staring at her with a slight frown. He seemed to read something in her expression because the next thing she knew, he moved his hand off of her stomach and was pulling off his glove with his teeth. Her eyes were drawn to the scars that littered it, the reminder of her conversation with him. Fucking fathers. 

“My sister has been sick my whole life. I had to give her whatever she needed: marrow, plasma, liver…whether or not I wanted to. That was the only reason they’d had me after all. They told me themselves. Everything had been perfect before me. By the time I was old enough to say no, they guilted me into it again and again, carving more of me away until I’d had enough. They turned everyone we knew against me for being selfish, for not wanting to help my own flesh and blood. I refused to be anything they could use ever again.” 

Someone was growling.

It took her a moment to realize it was all of them. 

“Never again,” David said, voice lower and rougher than usual. “No one’s ever going to force you again.” 

Darcy smiled and leaned forward to kiss the ridge of his brow. “They haven’t forced me into anything for years. Not since I crashed their car and stopped staying in their house.” His face smoothed into the human one she knew well. 

“That why you’re living in a motel?” he asked. “In Santa Carla?”

“I told you,” she teased. “I’m a time traveller.” They laughed at that and Paul and Dwayne finally eased up, moving away from them. It likely helped that David motioned them off. 

His thumb smoothed over the scar one last time. He reached up, brushing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. He paused and she felt him pull the backing off of her earring. 

“Hey, what are–” 

He put a finger on her chin, turning her face back away from him. He took out her earring and tossed it. She heard it bounce off the ground. She sat there for a moment before feeling him press an earring into the space he had made. When his fingers moved, tracing a path down her neck, she turned to look. It took a moment before she realized what was missing. 

“Did you…give me one of your earrings?”

“Looks better on you,” David said. “Now you’ll have a piece of me wherever you go.” 

“Thank you.” It was a sweet gesture and something told her that David didn’t usually do sweet. Maybe it was the way they tended to interact, ready to tear each other's throats out at any given time. 

He leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t soft. David kissed her as though he was trying to consume her. He burned himself into her. He finally pulled back when Marko returned with food. 

Darcy was a little high from the way Paul kept shotgunning his joint with her. She was lying on their couch, listening to the way the boys were rambunctious around her. 

“Hey, rosy-girl,” Dwayne murmured as he knelt next to her. “I got an idea.”

“Hmm?” she turned to look at him. He was lit by the fires in the cans that they had burning. It was a good look on him. Made him seem more human somehow. Maybe it was the warmth of the light on his skin. 

His hand slipped up under her shirt. He found one of the surgical scars easily, fingers brushing against it. He didn’t move higher as she expected. “You want to erase those scars? Make something beautiful on you.” 

“Like a tattoo?” 

He grins at her. “Better. I’ll make some new scars, a reminder of who you are.”

Darcy frowns slightly. “You wanna cut me up?”

“Just a little,” he says. “It’ll hurt, but you’re not afraid of a bit of pain, are you?” 

“Pain’s never stopped me before.” 

His grin turned a bit sharper. “Knew it wouldn’t.” He flipped open a knife. She eyed it carefully, but it looked new and sharp. “Let me?”

She considered it carefully. She wasn’t exactly a fan of knives near her, but it wasn’t like he’d put her to sleep through it and the idea of changing those scars into something she chose was appealing. It would shift from something taken to something given. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, okay.” 

Despite being high, and Paul shotgunning more into her mouth, she felt everything. Dwayne was extremely skilled. The pain wasn’t as strong as she expected it to be. He spent his time carving into her and distracting her with his mouth and tongue pressing against her skin. 

She fell asleep, feeling someone's hands stroke her hair and Dwayne murmuring that she’s been so good for him. 

Darcy woke to the sun hitting her face. She moved automatically, trying to roll away from the brightness. The sharp pain across her abdomen made her gasp and bolt up, instantly regretting it. She breathes through the pain, a practice she’s all too familiar with and has long tried to forget. A quick glance showed that the boys had managed to properly bandage and wrap her stomach. It was tempting to undo so she could see how far Dwayne had gotten, but experience has drilled into her to leave her bandages alone. 

Darcy pushed herself to her feet before leaving the cave. There was no point in sticking around bored out of her mind waiting for the sunset so the vampires could wake up. She had better things to do. Like finding a way to get to her job that she was probably late for. 

It took her longer than she wanted to get up those fucking awful metal steps. She mentally cursed the fact that she was attracted to a bunch of vampires who had no consideration for the humans they stole. Not that she could blame them. She wouldn’t make an easy exit for anyone she decided to kill, but it was a fucking pain to deal with now. Especially when the wounds on her stomach were killing her. Figuratively. 

She considered stealing one of their bikes. They didn’t actually need it and it would’ve served them right to have to share when they left her alone in their cave. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure she could balance properly. Not with how her stomach twinged with every movement. 

So she walked. 

She saw the smoke first. 

It took a moment before she realized where it was coming from. She took off running. There was a small crowd on the street. She shoved her way past the tourists and the few familiar citizens until finally, she was close enough to see it. Sampson’s shop was burnt down. A still smouldering wreck that was hollowed out and collapsing before her.  

“What the fuck?” Darcy exclaimed, looking at the chaos she knows she didn’t cause. “What happened?”

“Darcy!” 

“Darcy!”

She turned at the sound of her name. Camila, Sampson and Clark came barreling toward her. Clark hit first, hugging her tightly before he realized what he was doing and let go. Camila took his place, hugging her before pulling back to cup her face in her hands and turning her head so Camila could look her over. 

“Dios mio, you’re okay! We thought you might have been caught in it! No one’s seen you! You weren’t at the motel!”

“What happened?” Darcy asked again, looking between the two adults.

“Surf Nazis came for revenge like I said they would. Everyone knows you work here, Darce,” Clark said. 

Anger burned through her, as hot as the fire that lay dormant in front of them. “They did, huh?” That’s fine. She could deal with those assholes. She knows if she asked, the vampires will help. Still, that does not erase the fact that her work is destroyed. It wasn’t even hers. She looked over at Sampson. “I am so sorry.”

“Nah, Darce. It’s a bummer but it’s just threads. The man is already asking ‘round. More important that you’re safe. We were buggin’ out thinking you were inside.” 

“The boys picked me up after work,” she said. “I spent the night with them.” 

Camila muttered a prayer before hugging her again. “Where are you staying?”

“The motel?” Darcy answered.

“Is that safe? Mija, if they know where you worked, they know where you live.” 

That was an excellent point. Still, Darcy hated that they were forcing her into this position. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll figure it out.” Worst case scenario, she’d stay in that stupid cave. She wasn’t about to let that happen though. She’d deal with these assholes first. 

“You can stay with me,” Camila offered. “Come, let’s get your stuff. Even if you find somewhere else, you can have your stuff somewhere safe until you decide.” 

She barely knew Camila but Sampson did and she trusted him. “Sure, thanks.” 

“Don’t worry ‘bout the store, Darce. I’ll let you know when I have something else set and I’ll come by Camila’s, drop off your pay, ya dig?”

She tried not to smile. “I dig,” she agreed. Clark disappeared again but Darcy let herself be led away from the wreckage by Camila. 

She gathered her meagre belongings from the motel and dropped them off in the spare room at Camila’s house. The older woman seemed ecstatic that she was there, taking the time to show her around and, more importantly in her words, feed her.  

Fuck everything else. This made it worth it. Camila apparently hadn’t had anyone to feed in ages because she seemed enthusiastic and determined to find out what Darcy’s favourites would be. 

Darcy was free to roam the house as she waited but she stayed close and kept up the conversation. 

“Is this your husband?” she asked, pointing to a picture on the mantle. Camila was younger, but the smile on her face was the same. The man next to her was a little taller, his grin wide and holding Camila close next to him. He looked like a good man, but Darcy knew how looks could be deceiving. 

“Ah! Si, that is my Ernesto! That picture was taken the day we met our guardian angel.”

Darcy looked over, bemused. “Your guardian angel?”

“It was in Los Angeles, Nineteen…sixty-five I think. Ernesto and I, we were struggling. I was thirty,” she went back to cooking and Darcy followed her into the kitchen. “When I met him. Smart man, handsome, but it was not so easy then. Our angel, sh-they helped us find our home. Gave us money for a proper start.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “What did they want in return?”

“Nothing.” Camila laughed when she turned to look at the expression on Darcy’s face. “It’s true. Said it was payment for the future, that they wanted to…invest in our happiness. Never asked for anything in return. And we’re not the only ones in town who have received their help. Our angel would come by sometimes, just to sit with us. I think…they were lonely.” 

Darcy had never considered herself lonely at any point in her life. Being lonely meant that you were giving others power over you, that you were setting yourself up to be indebted to someone for their company. She refused to part with anything of hers that she wasn’t fully willing to give. 

Before night fell, Darcy started walking back to the bluffs. Her stomach burned with the movement but she needed to find the boys before they saw the burnt down remains while looking for her. If they were going to be as pissed as she was, she wanted to aim them in the right direction. The Surf Nazis stole something from her, from people who helped her. She would steal something back.

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares

lost boys tag: @phantomenby @avengers-fixation @artaxerxesthegreat @henhouse-horrors @charlizekkelly @makepastanotwar13

[stevesjockstrap]

Eddie Month day 12

prompt: soulmates & perceptive & Eight - Sleeping at Last | read on ao3

rated: T | a/n: This was supposed to be fluffy and cute but then this song, man

I remember the minute It was like a switch was flipped I was just a kid who grew up strong enough To pick this armor up And suddenly it fit God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive And I grew up too quick

Steve had called a meeting. It had been getting out of hand.

“Listen guys, it’s completely normal for everyone to be processing Eddie’s death in different ways…” Dustin was already shaking his head about to interrupt him, so he put his hand up. “He’s gone, buddy. And that sucks, and it’s hard, but it’s going to be okay.”

Dustin and Will exchanged a look.

“Go ahead and say it,” he sighed and sank onto the coffee table in front of them, his head in his hands.

“We both had the same dream about him last night. And Max and Lucas said he was in their dream the night before. Sometimes he can talk and sometimes he can’t. Last night, Will was able to ask him a question!”

Steve looked up at them. At their little hopeful faces. He knew this was the closest they’d dealt with death before. Dustin had been up close and personal with someone he loved when they just slipped away. But this wasn’t something he knew how to deal with.

“What did you ask?”

“I asked him if we could help him. And he got excited. Jumping around and waving. When he was able to, he just said one word.” Will looked at Dustin. Like he wasn’t sure he wanted to give this information to Steve. Steve wasn’t sure he wanted it, either.

“Guys, look, maybe we can get Owens to get someone for you to talk to, this-“ he let his head fall into his hands again. He wouldn’t cry in front of them. But he was so close.

Will reached out to touch his arm. “Steve, he said your name. He said ‘Steve.’ Like it was the answer. Have you… has he shown up in your dreams yet?”

Steve coughed out a sob, barbed wires tangling around his throat as he tried to hold them back. That was the kicker, wasn’t it? Eddie hadn’t visited him in his dreams. Only the party and now Max. El couldn’t find him in any dimensions. He shook his head, not able to lift it up or speak.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Robin sat next to him and pulled him into her chest. That didn’t help the silent sobs wracking his body. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be going. He was supposed to be comforting the kids. Telling them this is fine and normal but to stop trying to make it something supernatural and just grieve.

Robin held him and seemed to have sent everyone silently to another room. Or maybe that had been Nancy. Anyways when he’d raised his head he was thankful he didn’t have an audience to his puffy snotty face.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Bobby. This isn’t something I can hit with a bat or throw Molotov cocktails at. How do I be there for the kids while I’m trying to hold myself together, too?”

“You just keep doing it, babe. You can be weak in front of them. You show them that it’s hard but it gets easier, and you talk to them. These dreams have to mean they’re processing it, but they’re not used to having a problem they can’t fight or a puzzle that needs solving. We all just have to keep doing what we’re doing and being as normal as possible.”

They both laughed. “Who do we know who’s normal?”

“Not a clue.”

Now you won't see all that I have to lose And all I've lost in the fight to protect it I won't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected I want to break these bones 'til they're better I want to break them right and feel alive You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong My healing needed more than time

Eddie was in his bedroom at the trailer again. He usually ended up there, more often than not. Probably because that’s where he spent most of his time. When he was alive.

He picked around in the debris. Chuckling to himself, he picked up the Magic 8 Ball he found under his bed.

“Am I dead?” He asked before shaking it vigorously.

The little die inside stopped. Signs point to yes.

“Where is my body?” Cannot predict now.

Eddie threw the thing with a howl.

When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things I see the familiar I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too Now I'm a broken mirror

Steve laid awake in his dark bedroom, staring around at the shadows. He blinked. The shadow behind his door moved. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of the bat under his pillow. The shadow moved towards him slowly.

Eddie sat on the floor next to the bed, fidgeting with his hands and mumbling to himself.

It was so normal for a second Steve was about to ask him what was wrong. Why he was creeping around in his house at night without waking him up. Steve told himself he’d fallen asleep and he was finally getting to see Eddie in his dream.

When Eddie looked up at Steve, they made eye contact and Eddie was the one who seemed shocked. His big eyes widened even more and his eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. Crab-walking backwards to try to get away. When he banged into the wall he stopped.

“Are you okay?” Steve breathed, unable to help himself.

“Can you see me?”

“Yeah?”

“What? How?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sat up, but forced himself not to approach Eddie. “What are you?”

Eddie huffed a shallow laugh. “That’s the million dollar question, Harrington. I don’t even know. I remember getting attacked by the bats. I remember talking to Dustin, and your face. Then nothing. I’ve been kind of popping up places. I figured out how to touch things, after a while.”

“And go in the kids dreams.” His voice was low and dry.

Eddie winced with a nod. “It was an accident, the first time. I’d just, brushed Dustin’s hair out of his face. Then I was there. With him. But we couldn’t really talk to each other. Nothing like this. And you’re awake. No one awake has been able to see me.”

“But it’s you? Really you?”

“As far as I know.” Eddie shrugged.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Steve jumped out of bed, scaring both of them as the bat still in his hand dropped to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Eddie yelped.

“I have to call Robin.”

But I can't let you see all that I have to lose All I've lost in the fight to protect it I can't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford to let myself be blindsided

“Where?”

“Right there.” Steve pointed at him, sitting on the couch.

“There’s nothing there, Steve.” Robin looked back at him with a sad look on her face. “Are you sure this isn’t from the meeting tonight? You’re projecting, because you’re in-“

“No, Robin. And stop talking like that. Eddie is here, and it’s- it’s not polite.” That didn’t make sense to any of them, apparently.

“I told you no one’s been able to hear or see me, Steve.” He sighed, pulling his legs up onto the couch to hug them. “Well, except for you.”

When it got late enough in the morning to call everyone else, they all came over. Steve made pancakes and coffee and they all filed in. No one else could see or hear him.

He took to staying close by Steve’s side, it was unsettling when people walked through him or accidentally sank through him sitting on the couch. The kids were constantly asking where he was in the room or asking Steve what he was saying. It got to be too much after not having any attention on him, so he was hiding out a bit in the kitchen with Steve. He didn’t mind because everyone was sort of looking at him like he was making this all up, even after a round of questions that only Eddie would know.

“It’s okay, Eddie. We’re going to figure this out.”

Steve reached to him, seemingly on autopilot. But he felt pressure on his shoulder where he was touching. They both froze. Steve turned to look at him.

“Eds-“

“I can feel you. Holy shit, Steve.” He put his hand on top of his on his shoulder. They stared at each other for a moment, then Steve yelled for Robin.

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart And all I want is to trust you Show me how to lay my sword down For long enough to let you through Here I am, pry me open What do you want to know? I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut And bury my innocence But here's a map, here's a shovel Here's my Achilles' heel

“I know what this sounds like. I know, okay? Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard. But you’re saying you’re the only one able to see, hear, and now touch the dead guy you had a crush on. Yesterday you were the one who wanted to have an intervention because the kids were dreaming about him. I think I have a right to be concerned.”

Steve paced around his bedroom. “Yesterday!” He stopped and went to sit next to her on his bed. She looked at him sadly again. “Look, Rob, yesterday Will told me Eddie said my name in his dream! And today he showed up to me. That has to mean something. Maybe he’s stuck somewhere, or he’s getting stronger. Please just believe that I’m not hallucinating or losing my mind, okay?”

I'm all in, palms out I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in

Steve had gone to talk to Robin again, and he’d promised he’d stay downstairs. He’d put Eleven in charge of him, guarding a dining room chair so no one sat on him. She seemed nice, he couldn’t talk to her or touch her, but she looked vaguely where his face would be and talked quietly to him, like this was normal.

Steve came back downstairs with Robin and they both came over to him. El wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and Steve casually dropped a kiss to the top of her head. He tore his gaze away from them. Trying to ignore the selfish wanting in his gut.

“Eddie, Will said yesterday in his dream you, uh, you said my name. Like an answer when he asked if we could help. Do you remember that?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s hard for me to talk to them like that. I have to chose my words carefully. But I said your name, because I couldn't go in your dreams. When I’d find myself in your room, and tried, you know, touching your forehead, nothing would happen. I assumed it was a clue. Something that was different, at least. You know?”

He relayed that to Robin and Eleven. They didn’t seem impressed.

“You said something about touching things before?”

Eddie nodded. Then he got it. “Oh yeah. I’m sorry I forgot about that. I should be able to move stuff around. I’ve, uh, never done it with an audience.” Eddie felt terrible for not thinking of this sooner, he’d been watching and listening to everyone all morning, thinking Steve was delusional or having hallucinations.

They all went to the living room. Eddie started getting anxious. He laughed to himself. When Steve raised an eyebrow at him, he laughed out a, “performance anxiety.” Steve shook his head and laughed.

Steve handed him a book from a shelf. He took it, concentrating on keeping the book in his hand. Robin and Nancy gasped. The kids nodded and laughed.

He tossed the book to Robin, who flailed but caught the book between flat hands. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Eddie. Steve, I-“

“It’s fine. I didn’t believe the kids either until last night.”

Nancy and Robin bombarded him and Steve with more questions.

I'ma shake the ground with all my might And I will pull my whole heart up to the surface For the innocent, for the vulnerable And I'll show up on the front lines with a purpose

Steve ended up having to limit the amount of magic tricks they all were asking Eddie to do, he even disappeared for about an hour and Steve was terrified they’d broken him or exhausted him or something. But suddenly he was standing back in the dining room. He explained he didn’t ever have control over where he popped around to. He’d ended up back at the old trailer. Dustin hypothesized that he needed to go back there to recharge. Steve explained Eddie’s shrug and look of uncertainty. Steve gave up his spot on the couch for him, but leaned against the arm and into his legs. He didn’t feel solid, but he didn’t fall through him like the kids had. It was tingly along his bare arm, not unpleasantly. Eddie reached a hand down to caress his cheek. Steve gasped and had to make up something stupid when everyone looked over at him. Argyle piped up from the corner a few minutes later, “You know, maybe you’re soulmates and your soul called his back. Like, that’s why you’re the only one who can see or hear him. And you’re who he asked for.”

Steve gulped and couldn’t make himself look up at Eddie. Until his hand came down to pull his chin up, to see Eddie beaming at him, tears in his eyes. “That sounds right.”

And I'll give all I have, I'll give my blood, give my sweat An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken I'm shattered porcelain, glued back together again Invincible like I've never been

@eddiemonth

[ctoan11]

Burn Notice Season 4 — i think the writing took a dip this season. I have less random thoughts about these episodes. It could be that I wasn’t paying as close attention but is that because it wasn’t holding my attention?

I’m in it for the relationships and there just wasn’t as much tension this season. I think it’s because of the addition of Jesse. Don’t get me wrong—I love Jesse. But I don’t think they had figured out yet how to add Jesse and his plot line and keep everyone else interesting too.

Where There’s Smoke was the best episode and where I realized that Fi is my favourite character. I just like seeing her do badass things and her relationships with Michael and with Sam are the most interesting. And other than this (female written) episode, she just didn’t have much to do other than whine about Michael wanting back in. They were together as a couple, and Michael basically ignored her. Not until Last Stand, where she follows him to certain death because she can’t live without him, is there any kind of satisfying relationship angst.

Thoughts I did remember to write down:

S4e5

Callback—snap your fingers and get rid of some drug dealers

Sugar knows the word malfeasance?

Sam gets to win a fight!

Hit me on the hip — love Michael’s smooth talking cover.

Maddie ignoring Michael and smoking in the loft anyway

I love sharpshooter Fi — she shot a Molotov cocktail out of his hand!

S4e6

Michael is always 2 steps of Jesse in coming up with the plan

Fi carries Michael’s gun in her purse!

Caleb, that magnificent bastard, and Theresa in the same episode — my two fandoms crossing over

Michael threw the shoe pretty accurately at the door—maybe they take the football to the beach to practice their throwing accuracy

Jesse and Sam are starting to be friends!.

S4e7

Michael Westen is the bogeyman-I loved this runner

Burt: Anyone ever tell you you’re no fun? Michael: All the time!

Only cares about the idea of people — gah

S4e8

I think Fi is my favourite

S4e15

Maddie threatens to put a cigarette out in Michael’s eye if he doesn’t look out for Nate — I have lots of thoughts about Maddie which I don’t think align with what other people think. One of these days I’ll try to sort them out.

Jesse calls him Mikey. Michael looks at Sam questioningly and Sam shrugs

S4e17

Foreshadowing—Michael tells Jesse that if someone he loved was killed he’d expect Jesse to stop him from doing something stupid

Sam attacking Michael to tell him secrets!

[starr-finn]

Ok so,I don't know if you're taking requests right now but if you are Can I get some (payday) headcanons of Jimmy,jacket,Dallas and Bain with a s/o who goes a bit crazy with the heists,like they bring molotov cocktails and maybe buys grenades,and just laughs while killing the cops with an ak-47 [and basically blows them up] because they think it's fun and is basically over caffeinated while the heist is going on

I hope it's not something you're uncomfortable with

Thanks in advanced

GASP!!! Hiii!~ I'll 100% write this for you!!! I got the second part too, dw!

Jimmy, Jacket, Dallas, and Bain with a Crazy Caffeine addicted hesiter S/O

Jimmy

Oh god no -Every other heisters

Fr tho, Y'all are crazy

You better share the grenades dude

He enables your caffeine addiction and you enable his coke addiction

Laughing together while fucking up cops

Always brings extra ammo

Helps with supplying molotovs

Breaks the faces of anyone that stands in your way

your personal bodyguard

always comes to your aid if you get down

loudly yells with you, cusses out cops, and violently stabs anyone that gets near you

Jacket

Overprotective, no doubt

will keep you in check, if you start getting crazy, he pulls you aside

has a firm 'No, don't do that, don't burn yourself by throwing a molotov cocktail in front of you' policy

Bonks any cop that hurts you, because he won't let you get hurt at all

keeps dragging you out of heists because you get crazy

keeps your caffeine intake low, helps prevent you from going insane

has a tape that says 'no, don't do that' just for you

but, he's also really crazy, but he manages to keep you both in check

has tapes to remind you to calm down

helps you with stealth heists

does let you have fun with shooting cops though

Dallas

Bro gets a spike in blood pressure every heist with you

always scared you're gonna get yourself killed

hides energy drinks from you, but can't do shit about coffee

always behind you telling people not to try and fight you

"I'm too old for this" - Nathan 'Dallas' Steele

helps calm you down when you go crazy

does enable your chaos on loud heists a bit

He avoids stealth anyways, so he doesn't mind loud heists

laughs at the cops that walk into the fire from molotov cocktails

never forgets medic bags now, he actually carries 2 now

overstocks them now as well

Bain

Like Dallas, high blood pressure

constantly reminding you to calm down

since he can't protect you physically, he's always talking to you

listens to you rant on heists to keep you busy

"Hey love, calm down, tell me about that show you like again, ok?" - Bain

Never assigns you to stealth heists

bails you out of jail a lot

orders extra medic bags

keeps very little caffeine in the safehouse

tries to keep you busy with stuff that isn't killing cops

listens to you sing the assault songs and sometimes sings along

[prairiesongserial]

24.11

Kaoru drummed his fingers over his camera case as he slowly passed through Car 7 on the way to the bathroom. The man in the blue suit was alone, humming under his breath as he stared out the window. The briefcases were right there in the overhead rack.

Kaoru grit his teeth and kept walking. It was just his luck that there was hardly anyone seated in Car 7. Whatever distraction he settled on, it would have to be big.

Kaoru made his way into the next car. The distraction would have to last long enough for Kaoru to take both briefcases with him to the bathroom, photograph the contents, and return them. Kaoru didn’t think he could do it as long as either of the two men remained in their seats.

Oikawa had told him to be subtle. No one should know the briefcase was ever touched, let alone opened. So, Kaoru needed a subtle, big distraction. Kaoru scanned Car 8 for inspiration, but came up with nothing. Families, children, couples, skis. A kid eating a sandwich. A woman knitting.

Maybe Kaoru could make a molotov cocktail. This train served alcohol, didn’t it? That was subtle.

Kaoru sensed he was possibly losing his cool. 

Kaoru bumped directly into a freakishly tall man in the doorway between Cars 8 and 9. A hand wrapped around his wrist, saving him from falling back onto a pair of Swedish lovebirds.

“Ah,” the man said. He paused for a long moment, not moving out of Kaoru’s way. “A sister. Are you well?”

Kaoru stared up at him. His lip twitched.

The man was speaking in Latin. Kaoru could speak three languages and get by in five, and this man was speaking Latin? Not even the nuns spoke Latin. They stuck to German and expected Kaoru to keep up. Kaoru himself hadn’t studied Latin since high school, and he’d only taken it in order to make the romance languages go down easier. Kaoru had understood the man well enough–soror, bene, he got the gist–but it wasn’t like he could put together a competent reply.

“Sorry,” the man said, this time in German. “No German.”

Latin it was. Fucker.

“Myself, well,” Kaoru said, blushing in a great impression of a shy nun or humiliated world languages student. “Permit, I go.”

The man moved out of the way. Kaoru moved into the vestibule between train cars and closed the door behind him. This one had a telephone and a bathroom. Kaoru needed a minute. He tried the bathroom door, but it was locked.

Kaoru leaned back against the door into Car 8. Oikawa would not like it if Kaoru set off a molotov cocktail, he was pretty sure. So, what? Spill something on the man in the blue suit on the way back to his seat? That might work, but the man also might take the briefcase with him to go clean himself up. Kaoru needed chaos. Specifically, chaos that wouldn’t come back on him. Someone else had to throw the molotov cocktail. So to speak.

The door opened behind Kaoru, and he lost his balance. He took a step back, colliding with the door frame just as the train bumped. 

Kaoru hissed as he banged his head, barely remembering in time that he should swear in German, politely. At that point, it almost wasn’t worth it.

“I’m so sorry,” the tall man said–this time in English. Then: “Ah–mea culpa.”

“English? You speak English?” Kaoru said. He glared up at the tall man and rubbed the back of his head. “Why didn’t you try that first?”

“Sorry, hardly any of the Germans I’ve met could speak it. Though, those were mostly kids…” The man was flushed and awkward. “I saw that you were a sister and I thought you might–do they not teach Latin anymore?”

“They do, I’m just awful at it,” Kaoru said, feeling especially annoyed now. His face was red under the makeup, he knew it. The man laughed.

“I was never any good, either. I’m better reading it than speaking. I don’t think I could do a Latin mass. But who needs to?” Kaoru must have given him a look, because the man quickly corrected: “I used to be a priest. Sorry, let me start over. Valerie Lecter. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Grace,” Kaoru said. He took a breath. Kaoru could use an ex-priest. He had an idea, and it wasn't going to be subtle. He concentrated on the pain in his head and the ambient stress of his first field mission, and managed to force a tear out of the corner of his eye. “Oh,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me.”

Kaoru searched his pockets for a handkerchief he knew he wouldn’t find, blinking another tear away, and sure enough, Valerie beat him to it. Kaoru carefully dabbed at his eye.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” Valerie said, hesitant.

Kaoru shook his head, burying his face in the handkerchief and breathing deeply.

“I saw something,” Kaoru said. “And I–my German isn’t great. And I can’t find a stewardess. I think there’s something really wrong on this train.”

Valerie pulled the door closed, closing the two of them off in the vestibule. There was muttering in the bathroom, but the sound was dulled by the heavy beat of the train over the tracks. This would be awkward when whoever it was came out of the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” Valerie asked. He had big Moto Hagio eyes. He was like a little lamb. Kaoru bit his lip to curb the manic smile that wanted to force its way out.

“There are men with guns on the train,” Kaoru whimpered. “I don’t know what to think. They’re going to hijack it, or murder–” He shook his head. He hid his mouth behind the handkerchief. “--I think we have to stop the train, don’t we?”

Kaoru stared up into Valerie’s eyes, waiting for him to leap into action. Kaoru wanted a train-wide panic. He wanted grandmothers shoving babies out of their way. Valerie was the start. If Kaoru had read this bumbling ex-priest correctly, Valerie would absolutely start quietly spreading the news that everyone was in danger.

“It's all right,” Valerie said, his voice suddenly firm and low. “Don’t panic. Let's go together to find a stewardess. Where did you see the men? How many were there?”

Kaoru sucked in a breath.

“On the upper deck. I got halfway up the stairs before I realized. They were laughing loudly, so I don't think they noticed me.” Kaoru balled up the handkerchief in front of his face. “Um, I think there were five or six.”

“The stairs by Car 6?” Valerie asked. Kaoru nodded. “Alright,” Valerie said. He leaned forward, well inside Kaoru’s personal space, as the sound of a tap turning on inside the bathroom reminded both of them they weren't alone. He lowered his voice even further. “I doubt they’ll come toward the back of the train if they’re hijackers, so let's move in that direction. We’ll find a stewardess. She'll know how to call up to the conductor without alerting anyone there's trouble.”

Kaoru’s lip twitched. Well, great.

The door to the bathroom opened. The man in the white suit and red shoes stepped out, coming up short when he saw Valerie in such close quarters with one of the nuns. He raised his eyebrows at them both, delicately adjusting his watch until Valerie moved to the other side of the vestibule, clearing a path down the middle. The door closed behind him.

This plan had better fucking work. Kaoru would get this man to start a riot on the Gottingen to Milan Economy Line if Kaoru had to throttle him.

“Alright, Sister Grace?”

Kaoru nodded. He gave Valerie a tentative smile.

“Thank you,” he said. “I don't know what I would have done without you.”

Too saccharine?

“Nihil est,” Valerie said, returning the smile.

Ughhhhh. Kaoru followed him into the next car, grabbing hold of the man’s sleeve for good measure.

24.10 || 24.12

[randomfandomasks]

OutlawTale AU/RedemptionTaleAU?

I'm not sure if this has been done or not because I haven't seen any Western themed AUS. But my idea was that this Outlawtale/RedemptionTale AU is taking Inspiration from Red dead Redemption. They are on the run from bounty hunters, which are humans. Our Outlaw gang is called The Dreemurs. Asgore is of course the leader of this Gang. He's weapon would be a shotgun. His horse would probably be an Arabian or a Shire probably. (My knowledge of horses is limited to the RDR Games). I can also see Asgore smoking a pipe and being the one handling this gang. Toriel as Asgore's wife will be as always the mother of the gang. She, Muffet and Grillby are taking care of cooking and cleaning in the gang. I can also see Toriel taking care of sick and also teaching/rising the kids in the gang. Although I imagine Toriel not wanting the kids to become outlaws as well. Sans is lazy as always this won't change. Most of the time he is sitting against a tree and napping. But occasionally he's getting send on the missions where you have to be quiet like breaking into a bank, breaking into some house and stealing valuable things. Sans is dual wielding two pistols, according to Sans they are easier to clean. I imagine Sans rarely using the horse and yet he somehow always arrives faster then the others at the destinations. Papyrus and Undyne are the hunters of this gang, which is a terrible idea because they both are scarring every animal and yet somehow manage to catch some. Undyne's weapon would be a spear (for hunting) and dynamites/Molotov cocktails (yes she has tried to hunt animals by throwing dynamites at them. Undyne and Papyrus are usually the reason why the gang has to move from place to place sometimes. Papyrus weapon...hmm I can see him having multiple guns, but he mostly uses a pistol. The times when he hunts alone...he actually gets more game then with Undyne. I can see Papyrus also taking care of the horses (perhaps other animals). He always scolds Sans for being lazy and forces him to help him, but Sans usually finds excuses to not work. I can see Undyne's horse either being a Shire or a Thoroughbred. Since things tend to explode around her she needs a worse who is not afraid of it. As for Papyrus...hmm...I can see him having a Mustang. I imagine Papyrus wanted an Arabian because its the best horse (based on the stats in RDR2) and Papyrus has high standards! But one day he saw an owner abusing his horse and he tricked the guy before stealing the horse. Since then he has his loyal Mustang. Alphys and Gaster are gathering herbs, making medicine. They are making sure the gang always has what it needs. If they notice the Gang lacks something like dynamites (because Undyne took all of them) they are the once going into the town and buying the stuff. Well its usually Gaster, because Alphys is nervous around peoples. Alphys sometimes asks Undyne to do it, which is a terrible idea it always ends in Undyne getting in fights with someone. Mettaton is still a celebrity as he earns money through making shows and theatre. He also uses his charm to trick people into giving him money. But he refuses doing any dirty work. He doesn't have a horse he insist that the others drive him with a carriage. I can see Asgore smoking (only pipe), Sans (he hides it from Papyrus because Papyrus hates it), and Gaster smoking. Undyne is not allowed to go into Saloons because its always ends up in a brawl. For some reason I can see Undyne be at one hand I can imagine Undyne being one of the strongest fighters, but I can also imagine her being a big headache for Gang. -Undyne no! -UNDYNE YES! (Proceeds to throw dynamites) I also can see potential for Outlawswap/Redemtionswap and Outlawfell/Redemptionfell versions.