#i'm a rebel just for kicks

[haven-sent]

@reivontulet  ❝ no one ever comes out here. we’re safe. ❞  

Steph nods, mostly reassured. There’s still an anxious knot sitting in her stomach, refusing to shift even in the quiet of the woods behind the trailer park, even when it’s just her and Rory - maybe because it’s just her and Rory. But she shoves that thought down, until it’s nice and compact to box away and not examine. She’s nervous for totally normal, unrelated to her very cute friend, reasons. “This still feels stupid.” She admits. “I know how to talk to girls.” Her face scrunches in an involuntary wince. A lie. Rory knows it. She knows Rory knows it - even if she didn’t know her tells, she knows how much of an ass Steph makes of herself sometimes. “I don’t need... coaching in asking someone out.”

[haven-sent]

@reivontulet​

“And with that my high score is secure!” Steph crowed, swinging herself up onto the countertop with a proud grin. Every first Tuesday of the month, like clockwork, she made sure to drop in on Rory’s shift and take advantage of her manager being AWOL to keep herself on top of the Space Invaders scoreboard without spending a dime. It might be a little sad that one of the best parts of her month was making sure that no middle schooler was threatening her bragging rights on an arcade game, but if so then she was perfectly content being sad. There was little else to do in a place like Hawkins to keep yourself from going insane.

“Don’t think you’ve had this one yet.” She threw the plush cat unceremoniously down in front of the other girl, watching expectantly for her to take it. It was their tradition, of sorts. Rory turned a blind eye while Steph jimmied the coin slot open on the machine, and in turn she used some of her ill-gotten gains to try and retrieve a prize from a claw machine. She doubted Rory bothered to keep them all - if any - but she kept it up, for reasons she refused to dwell too long on. “Kinda looks like Valkyrie.” She muttered with a considering frown. There were fresh scratches on her knuckles where the little hellion had tried to tear her hand off, but at least this time she took the offered food. Steph called that progress.

[haven-sent]

tag dump

[haven-sent]

@vandbaerer  (eden) ‘ are you going to make a big issue out of this? ’

“Oh, absolutely.” Steph grins, all too pleased as she peers around the Bingham residence, dodging out of the way of one of Eden’s screaming siblings as she does so. The kids are hectic but the house itself is perfect, cookie-cutter middle America - prim and proper with a couple shiny crosses thrown on top for good measure. A far cry from the image Eden seems to project. “Were you a choir girl? I bet you were a choir girl.”

[haven-sent]

@vandbaerer​  (chrissy) ‘ oh god, where- where are we? what’s happening? ’ 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Steph can’t quite make sense of what she’s seeing. The halls of Hawkins are familiar, but she knows it’s not right - the strange corruption crawling across the walls, the cloying dust that seems to permeate the air, coat her throat uncomfortably. It’s like something out of one of her D&D sourcebooks, or a B-movie horror flick. “What happened before we got here? Are you okay?”

[haven-sent]

@reivontulet​  ❝ thank you for an extremely weird conversation. ❞ / accepting

A grin tugs at Steph’s lips - a crack in the melodrama that has been revelations of just how screwed up Hawkins really is. All the shit she let be explained away poorly by the sheriff’s office because looking too close meant accepting that she’d wound up somewhere even stranger than Arcadia Bay - despite her mother’s best efforts. “I’m just saying. You’re technically like a superhero. We should be brainstorming costume designs here.”

[haven-sent]

@coffinfire ❝ my heart can’t take it anymore. ❞  / accepting

“I- I know it’s not... ideal.” No shit, Gingrich. Steph really has no idea what she’s doing here - she’s not equipped for any of it. But neither is Eddie, really, so she can’t just... leave him. No matter what Jason or the pigs or anyone else says, she knows he’s not a killer. “But you can lay low here for a few days, maybe, then we- I don’t know, we’ll figure something out.”

The storage room of the record store isn’t ideal but her house is a no-go. Her mom would call the cops - if she didn’t have a heart attack first seeing a ‘servant of the devil’ eating spaghetti-o’s on her couch - and at least here, it’s probably one of the last places people would think to look. “People have to realise how insane this is eventually. It’ll be fine.” She’s pretty sure that’s a lie, but the despondency in his voice, it kills her a little bit. She’s never heard him sound this defeated before.

[haven-sent]

The only thing I can edit is meme templates.

Anyway here she is bon appetite