#i write too many things

[dyrewrites]

**Writing tags**

All the stuff I've written, or am currently writing, in a convenient spot so as not to get bogged down by the myriad of tag games I like doing.

-> common tags used are also tagged on this post <-

A warning, of a sort.

Trauma is spread thick and deep throughout these pages. My stories tend to dig down into dark, uncomfortable, confusingly depraved places and languish there. In some cases they roll around and giggle there. I promise some resolutions, and breaths of sweet release. There are quiet moments to counterbalance the agony…but not everything resolves easily - or at all - and there are always worse horrors around the corner. If that sounds interesting to you; grab some tissues, find a safe, comfortable place where you can snuggle up and allow me to invite you into the dark recesses of my imagination. 

**Published**

In Fog -- Novella

Available in ebook and in print

Horror Romance // Supernatural // LGBTQ+

Memories live in shaky breaths, in gasps and giggles, in screams and tightly held silence. The moments adored, the moments feared, all soon forgotten which lie in wait for peace, for quiet, when they can be felt full and complete, relived in visceral detail. It was one such memory that took me then, standing at the edge of that long abandoned park, eyes jittering too fast to make out the rusted playground in all its growing shadows. I didn't need to see it. I knew its shape as surely as I knew my own. I remembered the curves of its slide, the jagged holes in its stairs, its broken bars, and its crooked playhouse. It had changed over the years, as all things are wont to do, but still I knew it. Then, as fog rolled in to pierce those familiar shapes with the eerie whites of its jagged fingers, slipping with such ease to fill the cracks my mind could not…I wondered if the park remembered me. It answered, in its way. With a gasping breeze it fluttered the fallen leaves, toying with the weight of them as easily as it did the tail of my coat. We did not speak, the park and I, not in words. Yet we understood one another through the memories that followed. In those memories I felt your hands—chill as ever against my cheeks–and we were together again, whole as we were meant to be, whole as we had been so many years ago…

In the Marrow -- Short

Horror // Suspense // Supernatural

Hazel’s bones are creaking louder than they ought to be and there’s something off about the light on the second floor of her home, something that smells decidedly hotter than sunlight should.

Excerpt

She had no time to consider the fresh oddity as the midday sun raged and fierce orange light broke free of the window and rushed into the hall. It burned along the tables, blasted through vases of crumpled flowers, crackled along family portraits and clawed across the worn and peeling wallpaper. The sunlight devoured all it touched in its searing bright and she felt, in its baleful glow, an insatiable hunger. A hunger for her.

Can’t You See Me? -- Short

Horror // Suspense // Supernatural // LGBT 

Madelyn died a few weeks ago, which is fine, she’s fine, but her wife and kids haven’t noticed…and that’s less fine. She needs them to see her, to know she’s gone, how else can she move on?

Excerpt

It was a silly idea, really. I don’t even know why I tried it, but I did. I had to. I could go downstairs after all, anywhere in the house actually, there’s just so little point in it if no one could see me, you know? But frost, in July? That they’d see. That they might investigate. Where to put it was the question, I could only scream so long before everything went fuzzy and then I went away. I wasn't sure where I went, it was just…away. Somewhere else. Somewhere dark and cold and empty. I didn’t like being there but if it meant being seen by my family again, of them finding my body and pulling me out of this strange in between I was in…

The Portrait -- Short

Horror // Suspense // Supernatural // Historical

Miriam was kept but kept well, pampered even, without need to work or wed or endure the shame of aging within her parent’s rooms. Aunt Mimi had left her a life of solitude and luxury. And so, though the sight of it prickled her skin and stole her breath, she did not throw out the package in the foyer. She would open it, and hang it, and allow its eyes to watch—to leer—because it was a gift from Aunt Mimi.

Excerpt

Portraits were leering things that sought to reclaim as much as was captured to create them and that belief, that discomfort—that abject terror—was why she did not allow them in her home. It was the reason not a single portrait adorned her walls, only empty spaces where faces once loomed…and it was, of course, why the parcel bothered her so. Why it sent her into a panic that sent her, in turn, to the floor and scooted her into a wall. 

Don't Look -- Short

Horror // Suspense // Supernatural // LGBT

The apartment is cheap. Good area, rent controlled, a dream come true. Sure, it’s a bit drafty and the hinges creak and the pipes bang but that's normal for an old building. It's the smell that’s worrying. It’s only in the bedroom and it gets stronger near the hatch in the closet...

Excerpt

And I stand in the shadows of the doorway. Unsettled, uncertain…but it’s been paid for, papers signed, and it’s not the end of the world if the landlady is a bit of a creep. We can look past that. I can look past that. How often does one see their landlady anyway? It’ll be fine. It’s a nice building, in a beautiful city, for practically pennies. “Everything will be fine,” I whisper to the threshold of my new home, my new life, but it rings strange to my ears—like a lie—as I step inside.

** Finished / In Beta**

Weald and Wen: Book One of Children of Mar -- Novel

Dark Fantasy // Horror // Nonhuman // LGBTQA+

Weald and Wen -> prologue

Mar flourished once. Warmed by the heat of the Lady’s Heart, its lands stretched full within the walls of a great, glittering egg. Then its shell cracked and a darkness seeped in; squirming, hollow and hungry…

There had been neither antler nor tail to mark the passage of Auru hunters through the Weald for full rotations. Yet Mitra heard of hungry shadows from the few of their traders—those yet willing to deal with her—as they packed up and headed for the relative safety of the Wen. They spoke of fewer creatures skittering along the trunks and grass and far fewer hunters willing to seek them through the Weald's deeper woods, or the Dreadmire that split it from its Wen twin–her brother's Dreadmire. The news of fewer meals scrounging his fog had sent her brother into a clanking fit. He blamed gasps in the Breath, or magics running rampant and demanded she find the Touched responsible. A task she was certain would prove fruitless. The Weald was vast and flush with dark places for things far worse than shadows to dwell. It was more likely that the hunters were lost to Naemit webs or Fiori mists than shadows, no matter how hungry they might be. But at the sight laid bare before her, at the carnage in shades she had not seen for ages, all of Mitra's assumptions rotted away. What left that statue could not be the work of Weald predators, wayward gasps of the Lady's Breath or even a wielder of its magics.  That horror, which squelched into deeper dark, had been cold, empty...and familiar. 

**WIPs**

Pale Blood: First Book of Morne (in revision) -- Novel

Tag for Snips and such

Urban Fantasy // Cyberpunk // LGBTQ+

The magic in Morne is acting up, leaking in from the wylds beyond the barrier and tainting all it touches. Som’s eyes, the twin suns that heat and light the mishappen ball of a planet, remain open far too long and never fully close. Night is lost, replaced by a meager in-between the inhabitants have come to call ‘halfnight’ and the shadow-walking, blood-sucking fangs that once ruled Morne’s only city have been driven into hiding. They’re left to wheel and deal through netlinks and vidscreens, safe from the glare of the suns, for all but the dimmest hours of the wretched twilight Som offers. All but one, whose half-cursed blood keeps him safe in the bright. But despite his usefulness, he’s used as little more than a delivery boy. A delivery boy who’s noticed a change in the blood he’s ferrying, a change no other fang has noticed, one that will lead him on a journey he’d rather run from.

Before Deluca (stand-alone) -- Novel

The bloodiest chapter so far has been shared in its entirety

Full Chapters on Cohost

Horror Romance // Historical fantasy // LGBTQ+

An autobiographical tell-all told from the present-day perspective of a roughly middle-aged vampire looking back on the 18th-20th centuries in which he was created and the life he led with the man that made him.

Shorts

Random horror shorts I’m working on.

Erotica -> in print now

Self-explanatory, one would hope -- enter at your own peril.

Come, My Pretty is a filthy little tale of a bored witch and a promiscuous princess she accidentally summoned into her dungeon. A princess who takes a decidedly unorthodox approach to "subduing" the monsters that inhabit said dungeon...

Snippet Tag

Should you just wanna read the snips and don't care which they're from.

** Extras **

Cover Art

All my covers go here. Made by me, so if they’re terrible there’s no one to blame but myself.

Voiceover Tests

Audio tests of me reading my snips aloud as I try to learn to make audiobooks. Some of the older ones have a horrible whining sound in them because Audacity hates me, but the newer ones do not.

[acorviart]

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[sensitiveheartless]

Day 4: Dazai of Moving Detective Agency! In all his various forms :D

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[raetttriestowrite]

Me, an author, side eyeing my WIP: you're not going to do anything weird, are you? We've discussed this. There's a plan. We're going to stick to the plan, aren't we?

The WIP: *presents subplot, presents additional conflicts, presents character development, laughs in my fucking face*

[womanipulatorr]

fucking older!eddie and his cock being so, so much you can’t help but try n crawl away but he just chuckles and grab your hips with his big hands n slams you back down onto him.

“where you think you goin’ baby? m not done with you yet.”

he laughs mockingly before staring a relentless pace making you whine and squirm,

“poor thing, ‘s daddy hurting you? hm? ‘s it too much for my baby?”

found these in my notes ^__^ lol someone plz finish this maybe.. haha.. sorry i’m lazy…

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

[vanyafresita]

after seeing this post by the artist afkeii on instagram, i got inspired to write a poem... and then i drew something to make it into a zine...

the way i feel about romantic love is... complicated... but i've known i'm on the aromantic spectrum for over a year now ! yippiee !

if you'd like to have a physical copy, feel free to [download the print version here] , and check [how to put it together / make a 8-page zine here]

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird. 

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands. 

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable. 

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents. 

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government. 

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner. 

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense. 

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap. 

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half. 

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go. 

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion. 

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint. 

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal. 

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist. 

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot. 

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch. 

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares. 

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait. 

For now, this is more than enough.)

[army-of-bee-assassins]

it's been said before and i'll say it again: image descriptions are not meant to be added later by other people. they are meant to be written by op and included within the op.

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[sensitiveheartless]

(Sorry this heads-up is a day late) I posted the second half of the vampire Chuuya fic! This is the comfort part lol

[emlovessid]

@jegulus-microfic january 27, scene, 242 words

He doesn’t want to cause a scene, but as he watches James disappear through the airport doors, Regulus realises in that moment that if he doesn’t tell James that he loves him then he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. And it’s this thought that has him putting his car in park and running through the airport like he’s in one of those romantic comedies James and Sirius like so much.

He’s staring at the security line, wondering whether James would have gone through straight away or stopped for food first, when he sees none other than James himself walking right towards him, eyes on the departure board above Regulus.

“Oh, hey,” James says in surprise when he notices Regulus standing there. Patting down his pockets, he says, “Did I forget something?”

“Yeah,” Regulus says, walking right up to him, throwing his arms around James’ neck as he pulls him into a kiss.

James doesn’t waste any time in kissing him back, dropping the McDonald’s bag in his left hand in favour of wrapping his own arms around Regulus and holding him so tight that his feet lift off the ground. He thinks that this moment puts every airport scene in any movie to shame with the way that James licks into his mouth, Regulus sighing into him.

“You’re gonna miss your flight,” Regulus whispers eventually.

“If you think I’m getting on that plane now, you’re out of your mind.”

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask". 

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?' 

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?" 

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential  the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?" 

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged". 

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window. 

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?" 

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?" 

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night. 

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack. 

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb. 

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street. 

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake. 

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything. 

If anything, Eddie has more questions. 

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot. 

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue. 

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?" 

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?" 

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone. 

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him". 

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt". 

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.  

And Wayne would never hurt him. 

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse". 

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…" 

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?" 

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday". 

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos. 

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end. 

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again. 

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!" 

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers. 

"Dustin?" 

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

[ellebells]

Thinking a lot about how Simon himself is, in essence, a walking ship of Theseus. At what point between Simon and Ice King did he become a different person? The crown changed him, sure, but it mostly just scrambled what was already there in his brain. And we know that even after becoming “himself” again, he’s been fundamentally altered by the experience. Ice King is still with him, even if the crown isn’t.