#indiana floating trees

[pegafin]

AI Generated McMansions: Indiana!

I asked the @mcmansionhell Discord chat where in these great United States our next property should be from, and the result was...

Indiana 🥳

Modernist jewel surrounded by iconic Indiana floating-trees. Dubbed The House of Seven Foyers by the local architectural community, this home is a gaping cavern of openness and midwestern hospitality. 3 bed, 2.5 bath, 7 foyer, and the rest of the 7500 sq ft…eh, that’s up to you.

Guests are greeted by a modern yet charmingly traditional foyer. A space so open and welcoming they can glimpse the entirety of the first floor, as well as some of the second!

[s p a c e s]

Kitchens on either end of the house!

The second floor foyer is bedecked in stately railings.

The House of Seven Foyers is the first home in the United States to be both a church conversion and a new construction.

Additional bedrooms:

Each full bath has a foyer of its own!

[crappymixtape]

endless summer

steve’s pool is always full during the indiana summers and he loves his friends, but he just wants you • *18+ only | (  2.8k, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader  )

E N D L E S S S U M M E R 🎶 i would die 4 u, art school girlfriend

“Hey, hey. None of that shit in my pool!” Steve was standing on the deck with a hand on his hip, arm waving about as he yelled at Dustin and Lucas who were dragging a half-empty pizza box closer to the edge of the pool.

“We’re hungry!” Dustin protested indignantly.

“Yeah, so hungry,” Lucas added, still dragging along the pizza box slowly as if Steve wouldn’t catch him.

“No, no, no. Get that outta here,” Steve was already around the other side of the pool and snatching the box away from Lucas’ grabby hands, tossing it up onto the patio table. “Children,” he shook his head at both younger boys.

Whatever, was mumbled back to Steve followed by a couple of hidden middle fingers, but the heat was enough to stall any real arguing and before long everyone slipped back into the cool water, lazily floating in the hot Indiana summer.

No one knew what day of the week it was, you only knew when you had to work next – not today – and time didn’t matter. All anyone wanted to do was spend time with each other, normal time, not running-away-from-flesh-eating-bats-time, and it felt perfect. You wished you could stay like this forever.

Stretched out on a lounger, you were the picture of summer wearing a tangerine bikini, a stolen pair of Steve’s aviators, and camped out next to a cooler full of beer and Coke. Whenever you felt your skin protesting against the sun you’d jump into the pool to cool off, but hurried right back to your chair after.

Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will had spent most of the day trying to shove Max and El in the water, but were thwarted almost every time. I mean, c’mon, it’s El. Like she could’t sense it? Robin and Eddie found their little patch of shade under the only tree in the backyard and passed a joint back and forth until their eyes were glassy and heavy, lips permanently curved into lazy smiles. And Steve? Well. What Steve wanted to be doing and what he was actually doing were two very different things.

He couldn’t help his lifeguard instincts around the pool, sniping at the kids over all kinds of shit – out of love, obviously – but every single time he turned away it was to look at you.

You. Wearing his sunglasses. Your tangerine bikini hugging your curves just right, not leaving much to the imagination. The scent of your coconut sunscreen and citrus shampoo mixed with chlorine and Cherry Coke teasing him every time he walked by, it was almost painful.

Then, finally, the others hauled themselves out of the pool, tired from the heat and shoving each around and playing chicken and summer. You grinned watching as Mike and Lucas both sleepily settled their heads into El’s and Max’s laps atop their towels. Dustin and Will were off talking about Suzie and their next D&D campaign. And Robin and Eddie…well. They were there, but not there, and Steve had picked up the pool net to scoop out the few stray bits of crap the others had dragged into the water.

God. It was like he existed for summer. Like he was made for it. His skin all golden, kissed by the sun and dotted in freckles. Hair, just a touch lighter than it was in the winter, hanging across his dewy forehead. The muscles in his arms tensing and relaxing as he pushed and pulled the pool net through the water. Turquoise swim shorts dripping water, plip plip plip on the patio, clinging to his legs. Sunglasses perched on his head so that he couldn’t hide it if he snuck glances of you over there wearing his aviators.

You could feel his gaze wander up your long legs, your thighs, the soft curve of your hips, that damn tangerine top. And when you lifted a hand to take off your glasses, the grin you gave him was almost cruel. “Looking for something, Harrington?” you called across the patio.

Despite his tanned skin, the flush that rose in his cheeks could be seen from where you were sitting. “What?” fell out of his mouth, dumb in the summer sun, and he propped himself up against the pool skimmer, clearly caught. But then he recovered, just so very Steve. “Just admiring the view,” he gave you a grin of his own and it was your turn to blush.

Biting in your lower lip you put his aviators aside and smirked. “Nice day, hm?” you snarked, swinging your legs over the side of the lounger to stand.

“Oh, definitely a heat advisory in effect,” Steve teased back, discarding the skimmer on the patio at his feet, finally unable to keep himself away from you any longer.

Walking with a purpose he closed the gap between the two of you and took your face in his hands and pressed a heady kiss to your mouth, catching your lower lip between his. You tasted like popsicles and Cherry Coke.

“What was that for?” you murmured against his lips, his hands still holding onto your cheeks as your hands wandered up to rest on his chest.

“For not eating pizza in the pool,” he grinned against you as he went in for another kiss and then leaned in close, his lips to your ear, “I forgot something inside.”

It was so hot, the sun beating down on both of you, but you shivered at his words as goosebumps trailed along your neck. Laughing you tilted your head so that you could meet his gaze and when your eyes met your grin softened and fell. Steve’s eyes. Deep pools of caramel swimming with tiny flecks of hazel and gold. Long brown lashes sweeping his cheeks. Steve. He only had eyes for you.

“I’ll come with you,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you felt a heat rising in your core that had absolutely nothing to do with the hot Indiana sun, and without hesitation his hand was tangling with yours, pulling you through the slider door and up the stairs.

Steve kicked the door shut as you both tumbled into his room and he caught your lips in another kiss before pressing more down your jaw, your neck, to the little hollow behind your ear.

It was hot, the air in his room upstairs was warm and thick and his hands were everywhere all at once. Wandering across the small of your back, trailing the length of your arms, tugging your hips into his. It all made you dizzy, but you kept up.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you spun him around and pushed him down onto his bed. His eyes went wide for a split second, surprised at the show of confidence, but he came back down from it and grinned up at you. “So damn pretty,” he murmured and you knew he meant it.

“I could say the same to you,” you purred before diving down against him, your bodies finally pressing together, skin meeting skin around your bikini and his trunks. It felt electric. You’d both wanted nothing more after watching each other in the heat, dripping with the glittering turquoise of the pool, longing to look, to touch, to feel.

A groan escaped him as you trailed kisses along his shoulder and up against his stubbled jaw before settling your mouth on his, lightly pulling on his lower lip.

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he mumbled, fingers fumbling with the tie of your top, cinched snug against your body. As it came undone it fell down onto his chest and he stopped short, hands holding onto your waist for dear life. He looked at you like you were the only thing that existed in that moment. You were the only thing that existed in that moment. “Damn,” it was almost reverent, in awe of you. Every curve, every dip, the very softness of you.

Giving him a small smile you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear, and simply whispered his name. Pulling back the look you gave him shattered any kind of control he’d been grasping onto and he loosed a heavy breath.

In one fell swoop Steve lifted you off of him easily, tossing you down on the bed before bringing his needy mouth to your sun kissed skin again, body meeting yours. You could feel him against you, could feel much he wanted you, and the heat pooling between your legs told you you wanted him just as much.

Steve bit your shoulder gently and he smirked when you sucked in a gasp. “Shit,” you hissed, half laughing half moaning at the kisses he started trailing down your chest and along the soft curve of your breasts.

His face moved down your body, mouth touching every bit of you he could, and then he paused and flicked his eyes up to look at you. “What?” his tongue ran along his lower lip as he grinned, knowing full well what he was doing to you.

Brow furrowing you propped yourself up on your elbows and opened your mouth to reply, but it promptly clamped shut when he slipped his mouth over your nipple, eliciting another moan from your lips. Your head fell back against the sheets as your hands moved to tangle in his hair. “Want you,” was all you could manage, your lips parted as your breath hitched in your throat.

“I know,” Steve’s voice was low, rough, and the grin he’d given you was long gone, pupils blown wide – fuck, he wanted you too. He pushed himself up for only as long as it took to yank his trunks off, his fingers deftly untying your bikini bottoms before tugging them out from under your ass and throwing them unceremoniously to the floor.

Standing at the edge of the bed he stopped and took in the vision you were, all soft curves and tan lines and freckles. Coconut sunscreen and cherry red lips. He leaned forward and ran his hands up your calves, hooking his palms behind your knees, and pulled you to the edge of the bed as he knelt down. Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from yours even as his hands moved to spread your legs apart, thumbs pressing into your thighs.

His fingers swept inward, slipping against the slick between your legs and you saw his eyes flutter closed for a second as he touched you, felt you, jaw clenching as he groaned, “So wet baby, is that for me?”

“Mhmm,” your mumbled yes was tangled up with another moan as he slipped first one finger then two inside of you, his thumb taking up a slow, languid pace as it traced circles over your clit. Steve was so good to you. Took care of you. You came first, always.

He easily found a rhythm as his fingers slipped in and out, in and out, in and out. It was wrecking you and as he picked up the pace your whimpers grew to moans despite biting down on your bottom lip. “You’re so good, baby,” he pressed kisses to your inner thigh, “Want you to come for me.”

Your heart was fluttering in your chest, like a hummingbird caught in your ribcage, frantic and seeking release. One hand still tangled in his hair, the other desperately clinging onto a fistful of sheets as you felt yourself racing closer to the edge. He made you feel so good, his fingers were so good, but he was too far away. You wanted him on you, crushing into you, fucking you.

“Steve,” breathless you begged, “Need you.” And he slowed, knowing exactly what you wanted. What you needed.

“Yeah, okay baby,” he reassured you, climbing over the top of you as he fumbled in his nightstand drawer and grabbed a condom, tearing the foil between his teeth and thumb. Kneeling with a leg on either side of your hips he slid it over his length, pumping his hand up and down a few times before fitting himself between your legs. You were so wet, sweet like honey, and his heart was pounding in his chest when he looked up into your eyes.

He slowly eased himself into you, feeling how tight you were on him, and he let out a groan. “Jesus Christ,” his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out, you felt so fucking good, but he quickly opened them again to look down at you. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you felt your body slowly relax as you adjusted to the way he filled you, letting out a sigh, the most perfect melody to his ears, “M’okay.”

ALifting a hand to gently brush your hair away from your dewy forehead he took you in. “So pretty,” he whispered, "So damn beautiful." And then started rocking into you, your hips rising to meet him with each thrust. Slow at first, his forehead falling down to meet yours, one hand holding him over you as the other tangled your fingers with his.

“Oh shit,” Steve hissed as he picked up the pace, both of you panting with the effort as you pushed each other closer and closer to your breaking point. You looked up at him as he fucked into you, his pretty lips parted as he sucked in breaths, moving faster and faster chasing his high.

Letting your hand go he moved his fingers back down to your clit and moved them in slick, heavy circles and the moan you loosed then almost shattered him. “Oh–oh god, Steve, I’m gon-gonna come,” you were gasping for air, as the movements of his fingers grew messy and faster, wanting you to find release before he did, your name leaving his lips over and over like a prayer. And then something in you snapped and your hips bucked heavy against his, your hand flying up to hold onto his bicep like a lifeline as each wave of your climax washed over you.

“Fuck, me too, so close,” Steve’s face almost looked pained as his movements grew hurried and uneven, and then finally his rhythm broke too and his lips parted as his breath hitched in his throat. He finished fast as you clenched around him, guiding him up and over the edge and slowly he rocked his hips to a stand still, both of you messy and sweaty and wrecked.

Letting his head fall forward Steve buried his face in you, pressing light kisses to your collarbone, the crook of your neck, your cheek. He smirked, exhaustion creeping over both of you, and brought his lips to yours, “It’s that damn bikini.”

Laughing you slowly moved to cup his face in your hands and shook your head. “Mental note to wear it more often,” your own little grin tugged up at the corners of you lips as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Steve laughed, but it was cut short as he eased out of you and collapsed onto the bed next to you, the fan on the ceiling pushing the warm, thick, summer air around his room. Resting your head on his chest as he settled, you listened to his heartbeat thud, thud, thud against your ear, your breathing slowly evening out along with his.

He ran his fingers through your hair idly, humming low and content, and kissed the top of your head. “So–” he started, voice tired and gravely, but happy, “I…I wanted to tell you that…uh, what I mean is…shit.”

“What is it?” propping yourself up against his chest you looked at him, concern knitting your brow together.

He caught the worry in your eyes and quickly shook his head, his hand finding yours and turning it over to press a kiss to your palm. “No, no nothing bad!” he reassured you quickly, his cheeks flushing pink. “I just,” he sighed, an uncharacteristically nervous laugh escaping him, “I just wanted to tell you I love yo–”

“Steve!”

“It wasn’t my fault–”

“Mike told me to–”

“I did not!”

Voices carried up through the open window cutting Steve off and he jammed his tongue into his cheek. Someone was gonna get it.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” irritation gave Steve a second wind and he crossed the room so fast you couldn’t help laughing as you watched his bare ass stop at the window sill. “I’m a little busy here!” he yelled down at the boys, but then you saw his expression change. “Wait, who the hell got pizza in the pool??”

Quiet. Then a barrage of voices.

“Dustin was hungry–”

“I told him it wasn’t allowed, Steve–”

“You know how he is!”

“They’re all lying, Steve!”

Putting both hands over his face he groaned, loud and exaggerated, before letting them drop to his sides. He thought for a moment, then decided he didn’t care and threw his hands up in defeat.

“You know what? You figure it out,” he shouted back down at them and then pulled the sheer curtains shut before coming back to bed.

Laughing he tossed the sheet over both of you, pulling you in close, smiling against your skin, his hands holding you soft and gentle and then he finally whispered against your ear what it was he was trying to tell you all that time.

I love you.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐝𝐨𝐧‘𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, 1.7k

<3

I take a step back, unable to tear my eyes away from the horrific scene in front of me. The creature, the man with no face, hunched over the deer's remains. It rips into the deer's soft flesh, devouring the insides as blood sprays everywhere. The brutality of the attack causes me to draw in a shocked gasp, my stomach churning in revulsion at the sight.

As I back away, gradually decreasing the distance between me and the creature, I accidentally step on a fallen tree branch, causing a loud snap to ring through the woods. My body freezes, terrified, as I wait for the thing to turn its attention towards me.

Immediately, the creature whips it's head around facing directly at me, at least I think. My eyes widen in shock and panic begins to wash over me, my heart pounding in my chest.

I don't waste another second, before I'm running as fast as my legs can take me.

"Nancy?!" I yell frantically into the thick, dark forest, hoping desperately that someone would answer my call. But, I'm met with only silence.

"Jonathan?" I cry out again, spinning all around, in hopes of spotting them, but the dense haze and floating particles makes everything so hard to see.

"This cannot be happening..." I whisper, feeling desperation and fear surge through me.

Suddenly I hear them, "(Y/n)?!"

Nancy.

"(Y/n), we're right here!"

Jonathan.

"Guys!!?" I cry again, "I'm here, I'm right here!"

"Just follow my voice!"

Just as I'm turning around, I see the creature once more, it's face covered in drool and poised to attack. Before I can react, it opens its mouth, releasing a loud screech in my direction. The sound causes my stomach to twist and my blood to run cold.

I let out a blood-curdling scream before running behind a thick tree in attempt to save myself. I listen as the creature stalks past the tree, my heavy breathing and racing heart sending me in a panic as I become convinced that the creature can hear my every move. I feel my muscles ache with tension as I remain silent and still, waiting for the moment that thing is far enough away for me to safely make my next move.

"(Y/n)! Follow my voice!!" Nancy's voice faintly yells.

I make a desperate run for safety, heading furiously toward the muffled cries of Nancy and Jonathan, who I know are nearby. I reach the tree where I originally crawled through and without hesitation I throw my crowbar through. Then I  throw myself down to my hands and knees, immediately beginning to frantically crawl through the narrow opening, all in attempt to escape the terrifying creature.

I blindly reach out, and someone takes my hand. Then I reach out my other arm and someone else grabs that one too. I feel myself being pulled through the slimy opening, dropping to the ground with a thud. Nancy and Jonathan rush over and both pull my into a desperate hug. I cling onto them as tears flow down my cheeks, my body wracked with sobs as the two of them hold me closely.

"It's okay."

"We're right here."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy had handed me a towel and now, wrapped in its warmth, we all sit silently on her bed. Our gazes flicker to the ground, unable to meet one another's eyes for fear of what we've just seen. And so, we sit there, not saying a word, processing the traumatic events, the only sound being the soft rustling of the towel around my shoulders.

"Why don't you shower off, (Y/n)?" Nancy says softly, breaking the silence, "It might make you feel better." She adds with a shaky smile and I nod. So, she stands up to grab me some clean clothes.

With Nancy off getting me some dry clothes and Jonathan making up our sleeping arrangements, I look out the window, my eyes scanning the ground cautiously. In the midst of my search, my eyes land on a blob of familiar brown hair, causing me to blink a couple times. Once I regain my composure, I notice the blob is no longer there, and I wonder whether I was hallucinating or if there really was something outside.

After Nancy gives me clean clothes, I head to the bathroom down the hallway and hesitantly lock the door behind me. Once inside, I begin to slowly peel off the slime-covered clothes that are clinging to my body. When the sticky mess is removed, I hop into the hot shower. I wash away the grime, but not the images of the creature, which flash through my mind, causes my breath the become ragged and my heart to pound. I quickly turn off the tap, and get out of the shower, getting dressed before heading back to Nancy's room.

As I walk into the room, they both look up, greeting me with sympathetic eyes.

"Better?" Jonathan asks, laying a sleeping bag on the ground.

"Yeah..." I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself, "Yeah, I think so."

"Do you want to go home or stay here—"

"I just..." I cut Nancy off, "I just don't want to be alone." I say sitting down on Nancy bed, my hair dripping onto the back of my shirt, "Do you?"

"No, uh..." Nancy starts, "No."

"I don't." Jonathan whispers, still crouched on the ground.

I nod slightly in response, then climb into bed with Nancy, who's sitting there patiently. Glancing over at Jonathan, who is tucking himself into the sleeping bag, gun in hand, I close my eyes and lean back against the pillow. However, despite my attempts to ease my mind and body, I open my eyes and let them restlessly wander around the ceiling. And the images of the creature flood into my consciousness. My body grows tense and I struggle to get comfortable in bed, unable to chase the horrific memories away.

"Can you just come up here?" Nancy hesitantly asks Jonathan after the moment of silence.

I hear rustling of the sleeping bag before a quiet, "Yeah." Escapes Jonathan's lips.

He climbs in the bed next to Nancy, her being in the middle, and places the gun in between them. Another moment of silence comes between us as we all lie there in bed together.

"Do you want the lights off, or—" Jonathan starts.

"On." Nancy and I whisper at the same time.

"Yeah." Jonathan whispers, "You know, it... it can't get us in here." He adds facing the two of us.

"We don't know that." Nancy says softly, with a worried expression.

"Yeah... we don't."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The next morning,  Nancy and I quietly sit criss-cross opposite of each other as we flip through different books, searching for answers on that thing we found in the woods. I'm about to flip the page when I hear Jonathan grunt, sitting up, still clearly exhausted.

"Oh..." He whispers, scooting over to sit next to Nancy, "Hey." He says leaning over her shoulder to look at her book.

"Hey." Nancy and I respond softly, not looking up from our books.

"Sorry, Jonathan" I apologize for waking him, "We couldn't sleep."

"I figured." He responds glancing at me.

"Every time I close my eyes, I just..." Nancy starts, "Keep seeing that thing."

"Wherever I was, that place... I think that it lives there." I say, remembering last night, "It was feeding there. Feeding on that deer."

"That means that if..." Nancy inhales deeply, "Will and Barbra..." She trails off, her eyes slightly watering.

Jonathan notices her watery eyes and scoots even closer, "Hey. My mom said she talked to Will." He says in attempt to reassure the girl, "If he's alive, there's a chance Barbra is, too."

"That means that she's trapped..." Nancy replies frantically, turning towards Jonathan with a distressed look on her face, "In that place."

"We have to find it again." Nancy concludes.

"You guys wanna go back out there?" Jonathan asks me and Nancy.

"Maybe we don't have to." I say, catching the attention of both teens, "When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer. Meaning it's a predator, right?" I ask for confirmation.

"Right." Nancy and Jonathan reply.

"And it seems to hunt at night, like a... a lion or coyote." I say showing the two, the book I had been previously looking at, "But it doesn't hunt in packs like them. It's always alone like..."

"Like a bear." Nancy finishes with a nod, "And remember at Steve's, when Barb cut herself?" Nancy adds onto my conclusion, "And then, last night, the deer..."

"It was bleeding too." I say, putting the pieces together.

"One sec." Nancy flips through the book she was previously looking at, stopping on the page about sharks, "Sharks can detect blood in one part per million. That's one drop of blood in a million, and they can smell it from a quarter mile away." Nancy finishes, glancing at Jonathan and I.

"So you're saying it can detect blood?" Jonathan asks.

"It's just a theory." Nancy confirms softly.

"We could test it..." I suggest and Nancy nods slightly.

"But if it works..." Jonathan starts, worried.

"At least we'll know it's coming." I whisper, and we all stare at each other with nervous eyes.

A second later the doorknob to Nancy's room violently rattles causing all three of us to jump. My heart jumps to my throat and I immediately grab my heart. Glancing over, I notice that Nancy and Jonathan have their hands desperately clasped together.

"Honey, are you up?" I hear Mrs. Wheeler on the other side.

We all let out a relieved sigh.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm getting dressed." Nancy replies quickly.

"I uh, made some blueberry pancakes" Mrs. Wheeler says through the door.

"I'll be down in a second." Nancy responds again with a sigh.

Nancy and Jonathan glance down to notice their that their hands are clasped together tightly, quickly realizing their mistake. Feeling slightly awkward after being caught in the tense and uncomfortable situation, they quickly let go of each other and avert their gaze.

"Your mom doesn't knock?" Jonathan asks finally.

We laugh for the first time this morning.

<3

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[sofiiel]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲: 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Part 2 ⇢

Summary: In which you stumbled upon Cryptid!Eddie cowering in an alleyway one chilly autumn night in Hawkins, Indiana. And make a new friend.

Warnings: Bittersweet fluffy friends. Angst in the form of sad, not so little guy. Cheesiness. DemoEddie.

A/n: I may make a slowly updated friends to lovers series out of this, as I'm fond of their interactions. I'm certainly thinking of writing this from Eddie's pov. Also, I am done with summer so here it's fall 🧡

It's a particularly cold autumn night as you empty the trash from the bakery into the dumpster.

You're new to Hawkins, and you've heard all the strange stories. Though, you thought it was all small town hysteria and conspiracy theories. But the town was now a tourist destination. And a perfect place to open your first business.

You'd had a busy grand opening and your mind is still thinking over the day when you hear a startled yelp from inside the large trashcan.

You stumbled back as a dark figure leaps out and darts into the shadows. A strange high-pitched whine following the sound of scrapping.

Was it a dog?

Pulling your coat around you tighter, you venture to investigate, carefully.

"Stay back..." A raspy voice calls out from the corner. A large wisp of breath floating towards you.

Your feet stop moving, was it the dog's owner? Something wasn't adding up.

"Sir, if you need food for your dog, I have dog treats inside if-"

A distorted laughter seeps from the shadows, it turns into a spine-chilling whinny. If a whistling wind could chortle.

"Please just...go away." said the voice.

He didn't sound like he was in good shape, and you ponder calling the police.

"Hold on, I'll be back, I'm just going to call and get you some help. You don't sound well, sir-"

"Don't do that!" it bellowed. The cry knocks you off your feet, the force behind and it and something else…

You wince, glass shards stuck in your palm. You have little time to worry about it, however, as you feel a thick, warm liquid seep out of your ear.

His yowl felt like standing too near a train whistle.

You sat among the scattered leaves of the large oak tree above your shop, trying to stop the fear racing in your chest.

Pressing a finger to your ear, you examine the blood.

A moan of regret comes from the shadows, "I tried to warn you. Please leave." it says.

Something in the way its words hit your core, sways your fear into an odd curiosity.

"He sounds sad." You find yourself thinking.

One thing was obvious, that cry that pierced your ears, would have hurt any canine to the point of whimpering. His dog was either deaf, or there was never a dog to begin with.

"But could a man hop out of a dumpster with such speed?" you ponder.

Getting to your feet, you hear shuffling in the corner. It's extremely late and Hawkins has gone to bed. In the sleepy quiet, all small sounds are magnified. The same was true to the tiny hiss of pain in the corner.

"Are you hurt?" You question, only to be answered by a hushed growl.

You bit your lip and glance away. "Listen, I won't call the police, but at least let me help." you offer.

He says nothing, but you can hear him slink further into his corner.

"I won't come back there, I promise. I'm just going to bring you a blanket, my first aid kit and maybe something warm to drink?" you say.

He doesn't respond, but he'd made himself perfectly clear any time he'd disagreed with your actions.

"Ok, I'll be right back." you murmur, whisking away to the back door of your shop.

Closing the cold out behind you, you lean against the door and exhale. Just a moment to collect yourself. However, you still had little time to squander.

You take the old lift to your studio above and rummage through your trundle drawers for your extra blanket. Moving about as fast as you are able, you pop a cup of hot chocolate into the microwave.

From your bed came a dry 'mrow' from your calico devon rex.

"Not now Toad, I'll give you your snack later, I promise." you tell her as her green eyes square on you.

At the sound of the 'ding' with blanket and paper cup in hand, you head back down.

In a small amount of time, the wind decided to waken. Opening the back door, you are met with the biting breeze.

There's a slight gasp and a great commotion.

"Shit, fuck...damn it..." a string of soft curses follows the noise of hit metal and pavement.

"A-are you ok? I did say I'd be right back." you call to him. Blanket thrown over your shoulder and cup in hand.

You feel as though someone's watching you with a weighty gaze.

Quietly, you move forward and set the cup on the ground.

"I kinda don't want to lay your blanket down on the cold ground. So, I'll just hold it out to you?" your statement comes out as a question.

He offered no objections, only -

"Could you," he lulled carefully, "possibly look away."

You nod and turn your head, shutting your eyes. Scraping against the concrete tickles your ears.

Briefly against your fingertips, a cold pointed sensation brushes against your skin. The shivering touch stands out even against the frosty night air.

You shut your eyes tighter at the swooshing of the blanket.

More scraping, he must be going for the cup. But why that sound? What's moving along the ground?

Curiosity won't leave you be, and you dare to take a peek.

Your head slowly turns as your eyes widen gradually. Your lips tremble as they part, and your hand goes to silence a gasp.

The man kneeling before you, blanket draped over his shoulders, hardly looked like a man at all.

Long shaggy curls hid his face, lanky arms twice the length of any natural anatomy were thin but strictly muscle. What one would expect to see if you pulled away one's skin.

Hands the length of feet grasped the cup, spindly taloned fingers curling over one another.

If he stood he would be a tower, a gangly frightening tower.

But what shocked you the most was the oddly elegant webbing around his arms.

"Wings." you exhaled.

The creature who'd been happily slurping the chocolate looked up at you with a start.

He was the monster, and yet he was the one who looked terrified. While his body shivered from the cold, fear had him frozen in place.

Dark eyes slowly filled with water, they shimmered under the light of the crescent moon.

You should have been running, you have screamed and called for help. Though somehow in that alley, looking into the face of this creature, you felt as if you were the threat.

Moving carefully, you lower yourself as much as possible.

"You're ok." you tell him. You take your words slowly and make sure to meet his eye.

"I won't hurt you, if you won't hurt me. Deal?" you ask.

He watches you in wonder but manages to nod his head.

Looking over your shoulder, you glance at the door. It probably wasn't wise to bring a monster into your business. It was probably twice as ridiculous when said business was also your home.

With a sigh, you turned back to him and managed a smile. You offered out your hand.

"Come on, You'll freeze to death out here, and you missed the grand opening today. We gave away free finger sandwiches and soup." you tell him.

He blinks several times, his gaze tells you he thinks you're a little looney. However, his eyes fall to your hand, it's in his eyes that he wants to take it.

You wait patiently and twinkle your fingers.

"Well come on, when's the last time you had a nice hot meal, hmm?" you tempt him.

A strangled chuckle chokes out from his throat, droplets of water now coating his eyelashes. He shook his head no, but the weight in your palm and the fingers curled tightly around your hand whispered, "please."

You look on him softly and give the hand dwarfing your own a gentle shake. "Very well then, come on." you hum.

"My name is ____, I hope you'll enjoy Lazy Pot's signature soup." You continue to converse with him, if only to put him at ease. That look on his face left a sour feeling in your gut.

"You're nuts." He murmured.

"I get that a lot." you shrug. Had you turned around, his height may have stunned you.

You lead him to the door, standing in the entryway, when his feet come to a halt. With his hand still gripped onto yours, dead weight pulls you back.

You turn to him with your question silently lingering on your face.

He didn't have to voice his answer.

"I promise, I'm probably the scariest thing about this building." you tell him. His eyes which had been stuck on the door look down to his clawed feet.

He awkwardly raised one digileg and wiped his large foot against the mat.

You weren't going to correct him, for fear you'd scar him off. Waiting for the creature to wipe his feet and ducking to clear the entryway, take his first steps into the door.

What struck you with an uncomfortable tingle down your spin was a red, swollen wound around his right ankle.

The faint sweet and savory smells that hovered in the shop seemed to be luring him in as he gave his lips a lick. One small step at a time, it took a while before he'd made it completely through the door.

"May I close the door now?" You ask.

He gives an absent nod, eyes scanning his new surroundings with a twinkle.

Moving slowly, you closed the door.

With the curtains drawn shut, you watched in wonder while the creature plowed through plates of finger sandwiches, and his third bowl of soup.

Your eyes followed the twined tail that swished about the ground like a cluster of roots.

"How'd I miss that?" you think to yourself.

If it wasn't all so peculiar, you might have laughed. He was hardly frightening, cocooned in his blanket, gobbling down spoonfuls of soup like a child eating all his most favorite food.

With a release of breath, you lean back in your chair, finally able to relax.

The creature came to a realized halt, and with timid eyes glanced up at you. You flashed him a smile.

He reaches his finger out towards the plate piled in sandwiches, "You don't want anything?" He asked between slurps.

Your eyes crease into a smile of their own, "thank you, but those are all yours. I don't think I've ever seen someone enjoy my food this much, please help yourself." You urge.

For a moment you could have sworn you saw red tint his cheeks.

He wiped his mouth with the bend of his wrist and looked away from your eyes.

"Thank you." He murmured quietly.

"No, thank you, I think you've given me the best wordless review I've ever received." you chimed.

Your brows knit with concern as you move to leave the table.

Before you could blind, a hand snatched your arm, a trembling grip held to you.

"I'm just going back to the kitchens, there's a first aid kit back there. Your ankle is hurt." you explain in a slow calm.

His hands ease back, fingers uncurling from your wrists.

"Sorry." he whispers.

"It's fine. I'll be back." you say this, but you can still feel a worried gaze watching as you go.

It was almost uncomfortably quiet while he allowed you to clean and wrap his leg. The food was gone, and he now sipped on a bottle of water.

But you could feel those eyes on you.

"Do you have a name?" you ask him, desperate for sound beyond the ticking of the wall clock.

"I-" his words caught as if trying to remember.

You glance up at him, his eyes wide.

"It's been a long time since I needed to know my own name." he confessed.

"Is it Joe? You look like a Joe." You tease.

The creature shook his head.

"Billy?" You keep up, with a snap of your fingers you grin, "Tom, that's it for sure."

His eyes stay on you before a hint of a smile comes to his face.

"Name's Eddie." he says.

"Well Eddie, I'm glad I found you when I did," you hummed, listening as the wind gave a howl.

You move away, finished with treating his wound. "Where are you from?"

He scoffs, "Hawkins." he said.

"Do you have a home? Family? Others like-"

You swallow your words as Eddie flinched.

"Are there no others like you?" you ask softly.

"No, I came back....wrong." he whispered, lifting his hands so that he might look at them. Eddie gave his fingers a wiggle, his claws clacking together.

It may have been better to change the subject. "What happened to your leg?"

"Bear trap, spent too much time around the local farms." Eddie uttered quickly under his breath.

"Bear trap!" you nearly shout.

Eddie shrugged, "it's happened before." he spoke, eyes wandering between his hands and yours.

You had so many questions. How'd something as large as himself hide for others? It couldn't have been easy.

Was he born this way? If so, why were there none like him?

In the back of your mind, the rumors about the town echoed.

Slowly Eddie pushed out of his seat, "Thank you, ____. I'll hit the roa-"

A loud crack was followed by the delicate tinkling of glass shards against the wood floors.

You duck as you hear cackling and several more crashes.

"Welcome to Hell! Enjoy your grand opening! Freak!" voices shout amongst the laughter.

Your eyes fall on the brick and stones laying on your shop floor.

Headlights blinding both you and Eddie as they brightened before the tire's squealed.

The shop became dark and silence took over once again. The holes in the glass welcoming in the cold wind, insult to injury.

In that silence, you lingered, until it felt safe to move. You rose up and glared at the brick. "It's the same everywhere I go." you murmured.

Eddie turned to you with a brow raised.

You sigh, "I don't know if you have access to news or papers. But I'm kind of infamous by way of an unhinged celebrity dad. He tried to blow up Area 51. Said they were hiding a hell gate. Of course, that drags his novelist chef child into the pits as well." you muttered.

"it's stupid." you shrugged, going to fetch the broom.

Eddie's eyes followed you. "hell gate?" he asked.

"Like it said, it's stupid." you called back to him.

Eddie shook his head as if clearing his thoughts or shaking away a bad memory. His eyes going to the window.

"I can go get them, if you'd like." he offered you, voice hollow.

You loot at him steadily, "are you offering because you think that's what a monster ought to do?" You ask.

Eddie turns towards you with clumsy feet, his head tilts a little.

"I mean, at least I'd be good for something like this." he said with a shrug.

Your eyes thinned at him. "You say that like you weren't always...like, that."

"I wasn't," Eddie then chuckled, "alright, I may have always had this ugly mug." he said circling his face.

You frowned a little at his disparaging smile.

"But I wasn't always like this. It kind of just..." Eddie's words faded.

You waited, but knew he had little intentions of finishing that statement.

Eddie glanced around, twiddling his long fingers. "So um," he lulled sucking in his lips, "y-you got another broom. I can help with this." He offered.

You found yourself blinking and, wordless as you watched him, fidget about. The sight of the bashful creature was certainly something to see.

His words crept out from his lips quietly, "or, you know, I can just leave."

Your eyes brows creased as you watched him, his body seemed to turn away from the door naturally. That obscure tail of his wrapping around his feet. Eddie's entirety was trying to fit into the tiny place where he stood.

Saying nothing, you walk to him, tilting your head back to look up at him. Eddie's eyes almost fret full as he waited for you to speak, they wouldn't hold your gaze as he shied them away.

"I'll le-" Eddie gasped silently, his hands naturally gripping the broomstick you'd offered him.

For a moment, he looked at you with eyes so wide you feared they'd roll out from the sockets.

You give him a smile, "I'll go get the other broom." as you turn away from him, you manage to catch a glimpse of a small smile. Both of Eddie's hands clutched the broom stick tightly.

After cleaning up and making Eddie some more soup in thanks, You studied him. "What am I going to do with you?" you pondered.

Eddie clanged his spoon against his bowl, any minute now he'd announce he should leave again. But still his movements were the opposite of what his words would have been.

"I should-"

"Leave?" you asked.

Eddie looked up at you a flushed slightly. "Yeah."

"Where would you go? Where do you go?"

"There are lots of woods and thickets around Hawkins. It's easy to disappear in the cornfield near the outskirts." He murmured.

"But you came all the way to downtown." You stated.

Eddie nodded, "I was checking on someone."

At the twinkle of realization in your eyes, Eddie quickly held out his hands. "I didn't let them see me. I never do." he said.

Looking down at his hands, Eddie flexed his powerful claws, whispering, "not like this."

"but you do have people who care about you and where you might be." you spoke carefully.

Eddie subtly shook his head, "they care, but i've been dead for years now."

"Dead?"

Eddie simply nodded and got to his feet, heading for the back door. "Thank you for the food, and..." Eddie's claws grasped at the blanket still dangling over his shoulders.

His thumb stroked the slightly beaded lenty fabric.

"You can keep it." your words rushed out quickly. He seemed not to want to part with it.

"and," you exhaled slowly.

This was probably a stupid idea. The worse idea, the point in most movies were you wanted to shout at the screen "idiot!" but with hands balled up loosly you resolved yourself.

"You can stay." you said.

Eddie's slumped shoulders jerked up to square as he turned to look at you.

"If you want." you added, "I mean...it's friggin cold out."

He pulled the blanket around himself like a hug, tail swishing about, "you're sure? Like serious?" he questioned.

You can't help but let out a little laugh at his reaction.

"Like sooo serious. It's not everyday you meet a friendly beast." you tease.

Eddie pulled his new old blanket above his head and cocooned himself once again. For the first time he flashed a full smile and it was uniquely dazzling.

"I won't cause you any problems. I promise." He said quickly.

"You won't even know I'm here, swear. I, I can stand guard down here, sleep in one of the booths or something." He spoke excitedly, tail trashing about more, whacking into the tables.

"It's still cold down here, the windows are busted." You said, withholding your laughter.

Pointing over your shoulder towards the small lift, you smiled. "My studio is upstairs. You can sleep on the sofa." you offered.

Eddie tightened the blanket around himself even more.

"But, that's your house." his words tumbled out.

"Yeah. I'm not the brightest. But I let what looks like an eight-foot man faced bat-raptor version of a xenomorph into my shop a talked to it for what's amounting to two hours now." you reasoned.

You eased away your playfulness and gave him an earnest smile. "If you'd had plans to hurt me, you could have done so already. Very easily. You don't want to."

Eddie fiddled with his claws, looking down at his feet.

So once again, you held out your hand. "Now it's no commercial grade lift, just a personal one the previous owner had. I-I'm not sure if it'll carry the both of us but, I guess we'll soon see." you chuckled.

Eddie slipped his hand into yours, your finger's barely able to wrap around his large palms.

As you stood next to him, dwarfed by his height, the elevator doors closed. "Oh...how are you with cats?" you asked him.

"They hate me."

"Oh no..."

Toad mrowed loudly as she proclaimed her spot on Eddie's lap. Rubbing the side of her face and ears against his claws like a personal scratcher.

"So much for they hate me." you sighed with a giggle. Returning to Eddie with a spare pillow and another blanket. He was far too lanky for just one.

In the better lighting of your studio, you could finally see his clothes. Ripped and tattered as if he'd seen battle. Everything was shrunken in the wash in a cartoonish fashion.

Eddie shied away as he noticed your attention on him.

"Stop, you wouldn't want to be stared at." you told yourself.

Going to him, you offered the pillow, "Here you go."

Eddie excepted the pillow and set it in place, Toad taking her leave after arching her back high into a stretch.

You notice Eddie's eyes flutter, lids dropping. You speak quietly, "Lay down, you're safe here." and it causes him to peer up at you. His dark eyes large and sad now filled with what you could only describe as gratitude.

His body relax as if accepting a wave of exhaustion. Eddie curled into a ball and lay his head down on the pillow, wrapped in the initial blanket.

Using the second blanket, you pull it over his lower half, taking care around his ankle.

Eddie's eyes closed as he managed a "thank you" through a yawn.

Your hand reaches down to him, just managing to stop yourself inches above the top of his head.

"Would that be weird?" you asked yourself, but he just seemed so...small. Like a kitten scooped out of the gutter.

"Yeah," you thought. Instead, resting said head on his shoulder. "Get some rest, Eddie. Something tells me it's been a long time." you whispered.

"I'm just across the room, behind the divider, if you need anything." you offered. But you could already hear his soft snoring.

You gently tuck in the blankets snug and make your way around to turn off the lights. Before heading to the bathroom to change, you steal one last look.

There you find Toad, hopping onto Eddie and walking her comfy circles before nestling atop of him and his blankets.

Your gaze on him softens, "how utterly terrifying." you think with a shake of your head, closing the bathroom door behind you.

That's how you met The Monster in the Alley.

Part 2 ⇢

[shieldofiron]

La Hiedra Venenosa

The soil remembers what Billy forgets.

In fact the last thing that he remembers is the cement slamming into his face once more, his dads finger in his hair and Max screaming.

Then the dirt, the aching packed lung feeling and digging his way out. A new way of breathing, breath that stretched up to big sur and down past pathetic human boarders. He’d been buried in a forgotten little sliver of land off of a closed off road. The land was forgotten, but it never forgot, not anything.

His dad never laid a hand on him after that. Not after Billy came back to the house covered in grave dirt and a vine of California Dogwood grew through the floorboards, through Neil’s boot.

The people at the ER didn’t know what to make of that.

No, Billy’s dad never laid a hand on him again, freak though he was. He settled for words at a distance, but Billy wasn’t listening any more.

The soil remembered. It spoke to him, though that word didn’t feel quite right for how it happened. How he would go wandering late at night, his mind filled with blood watering the ground. The soil remembered and it taught Billy.

His friends weren’t quite sure what to make of him anymore either, and when Neil announced that they were moving, only one of them said he would miss Billy.

“La hiedra venenosa,” Argyle frowned, “Who will become luchadores with me when you’re gone?”

“You can do it by yourself, Argo,” Billy laughed.

“But who will have your plant power,” Argyle smacked the back of his own fist, “Miss you brother. Don’t fall in love and never come back, okay?”

Billy made the promise not knowing, making Argyle laugh by recreating Neil’s face when Billy had grown a redwood through the house, busting its retail value and leaving the area to the land, because who would cut down what appeared to be a thousand year old redwood.

Funny how it grew right through the garage of a regular suburban house. Right through the concrete.

His dad wanted him to give up and be normal again but Billy wasn’t interested in that. The dirt remembered, taught Billy not to forget. He wouldn’t reveal all his tricks to these Indiana hicks right away though. Not before he could be sure his new friends wouldn’t fly off the handle.

Billy didn’t know what Indiana would be like, but he never expected the plants to weep over a hidden weed, tunnels that ripped through their roots and a rot that wasn’t of this earth.

The first night he’d tried to drown it out, drinking until he could hardly see. But he sobered too quickly when he saw him. Prettiest face Billy ever saw.

That’s him, the dirt said, That’s her.

Billy almost didn’t believe their story until the face floated up. Baseball bats and hesitating at a car. The rot going dormant, no longer sheltering itself in the trees. The girl, the dark haired skinny one who had ventured through the rot and come back out. They were missing the haunted looking boy, but the plants screamed out for Billy to go to them, so he did.

Tommy Hagan’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard, but Billy was swimming through images of the woods, glowing tree bark and the pretty boy’s face bloodied and bruised.

Don’t fall in love, Argyle had said. But it was too late, not when he saw that face. The girl turned to leave and the pretty boy followed. Billy was helpless to do more than follow too, honeysuckle knotting into the carpet with every step he took. His boots always had dirt on them, and the soil never forgot. He caught the pretty boy on the edge of tears, fleeing down the upstairs hallway.

Billy’s arm shot out, and he blocked him.

“Harrington, right?” Billy lifted his chin, noting how the boy’s dark eyes slid down Billy’s chest, “I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“Not now,” The pretty boy scowled, “I gotta-“

“Tell me about these tunnels with underworld monsters,” Billy said.

“What? What… what are you talking about?”

“Monsters, heads like flowers, but there ain’t anything natural about them. At least nothing native to earth.”

The pretty boy gaped, “How do you know about that?”

“Friends of mine.”

“What friends?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” The pretty boy crossed his arms.

Billy reached out, fingers circling one of Harrington’s wrists. He wasn’t thin, not like the girl. His hands were big too, masculine and lightly dusted with hair.

Harrington jerked back, nearly falling into the wall when he looked down and a honeysuckle vine circled his wrist like a bracelet. Lonicera hispidula, California Honeysuckle, more precisely.

Harrington’s eyes were wide, his big soft Bambi lashes fluttering.

Billy was too drunk to think of the risks of Harrington flying off the handle. Somehow, instinctively he trusted the dirt, the way it felt about Harrington. Billy didn’t have to be there last year for the memory to stick. Harrington would take out the rot.

“Amazing,” Harrington breathed, touching the honeysuckle with long pretty fingers, before he glanced up. “The monsters are back? In… tunnels?”

Billy smiled, “Yes.”

“Then… fuck, I guess there’s some people to introduce you to.”

Funny how things worked out. When the Pretty Boy took his hand, Billy let the vine grow up and along, locking them together.

“You’re fucking weird,” Harrington said, but he didn’t tug away either. His dark sad eyes just fluttered, sticking on Billy’s chest again.

Billy licked his lips, smiling, “Normal’s overrated.”

---

Thanks to @adelacreations for lending me the Poison Ivy Steve-verse for a little what if. Can you tell I was listening to Pet Semetary too much this morning and I'm longing for Halloween Season? Also on AO3 here.

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 35: Best friends day out

You’re finally done drying your hair & add a little makeup just to brighten up your face a bit & spray some of your favorite perfume. Heading downstairs towards the living room you noticed how oddly quiet it is for a house full of guys only to be met with gareth relaxing on the sofa watching Miami vice he notices you & sits up “hey goober the others went out shopping for god knows what you know how Eddie gets when he wants something so I figured I’d stay behind maybe we could have a best buds day beings it’s been awhile since we hung out just us two figured we could grab a bite & hit the record store or something” you smile and plop on the sofa next to him “sounds good fluff & stuff” you giggle & toss him your car keys & you barely let anyone drive your baby it’s a 1961 Chevy bel air not as spiffy as the one you all had for prom but still you cherish it beings it was your moms car putting lots of love & care into it replacing parts with Eddie’s help & she just got a new paint job as a gift from your love he knows how much you love light purple so he went ahead & had jimmy paint it all for you. “Really?! I can drive Paula?! Sweet!!” You laugh and you both take off to the car “man this is so fuckin cool jame!” He starts up the engine & the radio pops on you dig through your cassettes & pull out Billy Squire & show it to him “oh fuck yeah pop it in!” “Alright this is gonna be the best day ever!” My kinda lover comes on & you & gareth are singing & using your bottle of cola as a microphone laughing having a ball “oh I have an idea gare bear watch this” you flip the switch to drop the top and his eyes bulge from his head “no fuckin way this is so bad ass!” You both have the wind in your hair & not a care in the world your glad you got to spend time with gareth you both haven’t had fun like this since middle school. He pulls into the parking lot & you notice he took you to your old fave spot his parents would take you guys here before the end of the camping trips before your parents would pick you up. An old 50’s style malt shop with the best milkshakes & burgers Indiana had to offer waitresses on roller skates 🛼 glide up to your car with a note pad & pen “welcome to Marybeth’s malt shop my name is Dolores I’ll be your server what can I get for y’all this fine afternoon?” She says with a megawatt smile teal dress white apron pink skates blonde hair in a high ponytail chewing gum gareth knows me well enough to where he knows what I always get so he orders for us both “yes can we get 2 bacon cheeseburgers an order of cheese fries & 2 black cows” (old school drink gross but very popular it’s cola & ice cream like a root beer float) “sure hun anything else for you & your lovely lady?” “Oh we’re just best friends but that’s all thanks” she winks at gareth “I’ll be right out with your drinks” she skates off. You start laughing hysterically “WHAT?!” He’s confused as to why you think something is so funny “she was totally checking you out man as soon as you said we’re friends her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree” you start laughing again “bullshit she’s just being nice it’s her job!” You try to calm you laughing for a minute “okay we’ll see about that” he turns to you “what does that mean?” “Ohh you’ll see” she comes skating back with your drinks “here you both go here’s some straws is there anything else I can get you both?” You look at gareth and smirk “actually Dolores my friend here has an extra ticket to guns & roses & needs a date & you’re so beautiful maybe you two can go together hed need your number though” his face is red he looks like he wants to kill you “really?! Yes I’d love that!” She scribbles down her number and hands it to gareth and skates back off into the restaurant “how the fuck & I don’t have an extra ticket to shit Jamie what the hell?!” You pull out an envelope & pass it to him “this was supposed to be a part of your graduation gift but I can see you need it now more then later” he rips it open to pull out two front row center seats to guns & roses & flies across the gears to engulf you into a hug.

You both eat your lunch talking of ideas of what to look for in the record store. “I still can’t believe this shit what a day & it’s only the damn afternoon not only did I get a date but I have tickets to the hottest concert in Hawkins this month thanks to you jame thanks for hanging with me today” he nudges into your shoulder you chuckle “no problem fluff & stuff but let’s hurry I have to get something for Eddie at the record store as part of his graduation gift OH! Before I forget I wanna throw a graduation party for Eddie & hellfire but I want to surprise him you think you guys could help me out?” “You don’t have to tell me twice I’m here for whatever ya need”. Pulling into a parking spot you both bolt into the record store grabbing the new Iron Maiden album for Eddie knowing he’s been wanting it for quite some time. Gareth finding all he was looking for “so what else did you get him for graduation?” You smirk at him “well… I was gonna keep this a complete secret but since I know you’re good at not spilling the beans I’ll tell you since it involves us all.. so I have an account from when mom passed I haven’t touched a red cent at all I have it for future decisions but I wanted to splurge a little so I went ahead & got us all tickets to fly out to Detroit for a few days not only to go on a trip but two concerts I got us all tickets to see Kiss & 6 days after that we go see… METALLICA!!” His eyes bug out of his head “I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!” He’s swinging you around the store almost taking out a whole display you’re cracking up. “I love ya too gare bear but remember secret!” He nods like a mad man “my lips are sealed promise.. oh man this is gonna be so fucking cool!!” You both head to check out it’s almost dinner time you’ll have to head back to start cooking sundown isn’t too far away. Hopping in the car you & gareth had a ball & have to try and make time for all your friends from now on.

[raccoonfallsharder]

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part two. pennsylvania. ohio. indiana.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 2/6 | word count: 806.

rocket appreciates the turnpikes. the heroes discuss music, memories, and state-of-the-art tech.

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

“What’s this place?”

Wanda glances over at Rocket from behind the steering wheel. He looks like a child: sitting on three hardbound textbooks the Hulk had dug out of somewhere, legs swinging casually over the edge of the chair. He’d spent the first two hours fussing with his seatbelt, muttering about how Terran transport vehicles are deathtraps before either satisfying or resigning himself. 

The car is currently gliding through a twisting crevasse, cut deep into old mountains. Outside, the spring thaw is melting snow into little waterfalls that cascade off the manufactured cliffsides, carefully funneled away from the road. A sign warning of rockslides floats past. The trees are budding and there are little pink and yellow sprays of wildflowers peeking through the patches of grass.

“The Pennsylvania Turnpike?” Wanda offers uncertainly. 

“Huh.” The Captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy — down from six but up to three — swings his feet again. She can see his face reflected in the passenger window. His ruby-flecked, bourbon-brown eyes glow, wide and thoughtful. “It’s kinda pretty.”

Wanda blinks at the road ahead.

“You like music?” Rocket asks, feet still swinging.

She cants another sideways glance down in his direction. “I do.”

“What kind?”

She lets out a huff of air — almost a laugh. It feels strange. It’s been a while. About five years, actually. “Sokovian rock,” she tells him archly. “Some metal.” She raises a brow at him. “You know Sokovian music?”

Of course, she already knows the answer. 

Still, he’s looking at her with nothing but open intrigue. “No,” he says frankly, and his eyes are hungry. “You got some?”

It’s not quite the response she’d expected. She tries to remember the last time anyone other than Vis had asked about — home. Had wanted to share her memories, know her life.Had wanted to hear the music she’d grown up with, and listen to it together. 

Only Pietro, she thinks.

“No,” she says quietly. “I haven’t got anything.”

Rocket’s not sure how this planet goes from lush mountain forest into the flat nothingness of the Ohio Turnpike, but it does. As far as he’s concerned, this only confirms that every good thing on Terra has to be followed by a bad one. 

And also, what the fuck is a turnpike? It doesn’t register in his damn translator. 

Still, Cleveland’s not terrible when they stop for food — there’s some little cafe where they can eat outside, though Rocket’s surprised the witch doesn’t want to go in; it’s still kinda cold out for a baldbody, afterall. But it’s a good break in the monotony — especially before they start driving through an even more boring region that Wanda tells him is Indiana. 

Thank fuck he’s got something to tinker with now, though.

He’d chewed on her response to his question about Sokovian music for a while. It had sounded like a sentiment that had lived in his own head for years — I ain’t got nothin’ — and he hadn’t even realized the sound of it had faded until he’d stood at the edge of a dead star and pretended to be some kind of captain.

I could lose a lot. Me, personally — I could lose a lot. 

Then he’d asked Wanda if she’d had a zune.

The witch had blinked. “I — no. Nobody has zunes anymore.”

He’d scoffed. “I do.” He’d pulled Pete’s zune from his pocket and wagged it at her. “State-of-the-art music-portation and listening device,” he’d taunted, and something in the corner of her mouth had flickered.

“Most people use their smartphones nowadays,” she’d said — and her voice had been sort of mild instead of flat, which he’d counted as a win. “They’re a little newer,” she’d added apologetically. “Better tech.”

He’d dipped his head and stared at the zune. For some reason, the words had felt like a bruise in his heart, and he’d scrubbed his knuckles against his metal breastbone. “Better, how?”

She’d glanced at him again and shrugged one shoulder. “Faster. Sleeker. They hold more data, and they can access the Internet. Make calls, send texts. All sorts of things.” She’d shrugged again.

He’d dug his knuckles in hard  to his sternum, trying to relieve — or maybe counterbalance — some of the pressure there, and he’d stared down at the zune. “This was Pete’s.” The words had come out before he’d been able to drag them back. He’d never intended to say them in the first place.

The witch hadn’t said anything, and he’d slid his tongue over the front of his teeth, then had cast a sideways look up at her, trying to keep his face nonchalant.

“Those smartphones ain’t got more than three hundred songs on ‘em though, right?”

Her eyes had flicked to him, then back to the road. “Oh, absolutely not,” she’d said, so confidently that he’d immediately felt smug. “Fewer, I think.”

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next | main masterlist

[wexhappyxfew]

mercy codona (of and then the dawn came, a band of brothers fic ) — chapter excerpt

Sometimes on weekends, when they weren't in training or there weren't long 3-day overnight training sessions, Mercy would usually go for a run as the sun was rising. By mid-November, the runs were filled with cold puffs of air floating to the sky, her burning throat, aching muscles, and her red, crimson cheeks shining on her face. If anything, it usually gave her a lot of time to think.

Almost too much time.

She'd think about her youth, her mother, her father, a past she no longer was connected to, but would think on and breakdown over when the time was warranted.

She wondered if in another world, her father was proud of her.

She wondered if he would've cared.

She wondered if he would've been there to send her off, to give her a hug, a farewell. In another world.

In reality, she'd gone to that train station alone, with a poor excuse for a satchel and disappeared from Fort Wayne, Indiana for good.

It sometimes choked her up - she was never good with emotions - explaining them, feeling them, knowing what they meant. No one had told her that growing up the way she did would leave her with that lacking capability. No one told her the lasting effects it'd leave or the emotions she'd have to grapple.

Mercy came to a small clearing where her and Esther had gone sometimes to sit and stare at the sunshine or the grey clouds, covered in wavering fields of overgrown grasses, and willow trees hanging over small ponds or bushes. Slowly, she settled on a rock and let her heart rate come to a normal speed, before letting out a deep breath.

" Half-pint?" Mercy looked over her shoulder and found Joe Toye there, hands on his hips, out of breath, hair sticking to the sides of his face and forehead, walking towards her with a raised brow.

" Hey," Mercy said, wiping a hand across her forehead," didn't think anyone else was out here." Joe shrugged and let out a cough before clearing his throat to sit beside her.

" Ditto."

ie: my most favorite chaotic smol character of attdc who needs so many hugs and so much gentleness, and one i will protect with my life + she gets multiple chapter POVs throughout the fic and some of her moments in the fic are my fav hehe :) so enjoy!!! her chapter will be in the future!

[starspanner]

Pretty sweet playlist!

Alabama: “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd Alaska: “Feel It Still” by Portugal. The Man American Samoa: “Edge of Glory” by Lady Gaga Arizona: “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks Arkansas: “Don’t Stop” by Fleetwood Mac California: “California Love” by Tupac and “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar Colorado: “September” by Earth, Wind Fire Connecticut: “Signed Sealed, Delivered” by Stevie Wonder Delaware: “Higher Love” by Whitney Houston and Kygo Democrats Abroad: “Love Train” by The O’Jays District of Columbia: “Let Me Clear My Throat” by DJ Kool Florida: “Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty Georgia: “Turn Down for What” by Lil John Guam: “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter Hawaii: “24K Magic” by Bruno Mars Idaho: “Private Idaho” by The B-52s Illinois: “Sirius” by The Alan Parsons Project Indiana: “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” by Michael Jackson Iowa: “Celebrate” by Kool & the Gang Kansas: “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas Kentucky: “First Class” by Jack Harlow Louisiana: “All I Do Is Win” by DJ Khaled Maine: “Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon Maryland: “Respect” by Aretha Franklin Massachusetts: “I’m Shipping up to Boston” by Dropkick Murphys Michigan: “Lose Yourself” by Eminem Minnesota: “Kiss” and “1999” by Prince Mississippi: “Twisting the Night Away” by Sam Cooke Missouri: “Good Luck, Babe” by Chappell Roan Montana: “American Woman” by Lenny Kravitz Nebraska: “Firework” by Katy Perry Nevada: “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers New Hampshire: “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey New Jersey: “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen New Mexico: “Confident” by Demi Lovato New York: “Empire State of Mind” by Jay Z and Alicia Keys North Carolina: “Raise Up” by Petey Pablo North Dakota: “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys Ohio: “Green Light” by John Legend Oklahoma: “Ain’t Goin Down” by Garth Brooks Oregon: “Float On” by Modest Mouse Pennsylvania: “Black and Yellow” by Wiz Khalifa and “Motownphilly” by Boyz II Men Puerto Rico: “Despacito” by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee Rhode Island: “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift South Carolina: “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine” by James Brown South Dakota: “What I Like About You” by The Romantics Tennessee: “9 To 5” by Dolly Parton Texas: “Texas Hold ‘Em” by Beyoncé Utah: “Animal” by Neon Trees Vermont: “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan Virginia: “The Way I Are” by Timbaland Washington: “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore West Virginia: “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver Wisconsin: “Jump Around” by House of Pain Wyoming: “I Gotta Feeling” by Black Eyed Peas Virgin Islands: “VI to the Bone” by Mic Love

[badpancakelol]

The dreams of his mother meant something.

The first thought that goes through Eddie’s mind, the first thing that he thinks of once he has clambered into his van, tripping and skidding across the gravel, clutching his keys and shoving them into his vehicle, once the panic has (mostly, not at all) subsided, and he is pulling up into the woods, ditching his beloved girl into the woods, is: monsters are real.

His voice is raw and rough and it feels like he’s sanded down his own oesophagus with an angle grinder, but as soon as he thinks of his mouth, his neck, the image flashes through his mind on repeat, of Chrissy, floating, Chrissy, breaking, Chrissy, dead. Eddie tries to calm himself down by closing his eyes and grabbing onto his arms so tightly that it hurts and it reminds him of something, someone, almost-comforting, but then he is thinking of his eyes, and then he is thinking of her eyes, and then he is holding the bark of a tree while he desperately tries not to splash vomit onto his own shoes.

And then, he finds that he doesn’t know what to do. 

Nobody knew about the monsters in the woods. Nobody had heard the same whispers that he did, or the same running and growling and imitations that had spanned, infrequently, across his high school life. Eddie keeps walking, tries to calm his breathing, tries to remember if he knows where the spare key to the Rick’s house is.

He doesn’t think about Chrissy, and he doesn’t think about the monsters in the woods, or how he is in the woods, or how Chrissy had died, how nobody is going to believe him, how her neck had snapped, how he is alone in the woods, how she had fallen from his ceiling like a mangled god-forsaken angel. 

He doesn’t think about. Not one bit.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up once he flips the mat over and finds the key. He positions it down in the exact spot it was in, not one inch out of place, and puts the key in the lock. And then, he stops. Because he thinks. And if there is one thing he should really be banned from right now, it’s thinking.

But, no, it’s good that he’s thinking, because nobody is going to believe him, and he has to be smart, like he knows he can be smart. People will come looking for him. People will come looking for his van, that had fled the crime scene, people will think that he killed Chrissy, and they will think of all the people he knows or associates with. 

Oh no. 

Oh no no no no no! 

Gareth. 

Wayne. 

The kids, oh god, the fucking kids. 

Are they going to question them? Are they all going to think he fucking killed her? No, there’s no way that they’d think that — they know him. Right? They wouldn’t think that he killed her. They’d — they would trust him, he tries to convince himself. It doesn’t matter that Eddie didn’t tell any of them about how Chrissy was coming over, or how she was found in his trailer, or how his van was gone, or how—

Okay. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they would really, really, think that he killed her. Oh god. 

Eddie looks to the boat shed. He turns back to the door, key still in lock, and pockets it all. If people came looking for him, if they’d already gone through his family, his friends, they’d try to come here. He breathes deep, crumples in on himself under the moonlight, and allocates three days to this location. And then? He’s going to try and get the fuck out of Indiana.

(There’s a small voice in the back of his head that says at least you know that monsters are real, and monsters are killing people, and you’re not crazy.

It doesn’t make him feel any fucking better).

— — —

What the fuck.

It’s the only thing he’s been chanting in his mind since he pinned Steve against the wall with the broken bottle to his throat. 

Hi Eddie! The monsters you thought were real are actually even more real than you had thought, and there are like three hundred different breeds of them! Also, we’ve been dealing with this since we were twelve. What the fuck. 

The kids call them after DND monsters, and there’s a girl with superpowers who doesn’t actually have superpowers right now! What? Oh, but don’t worry, we just have to kill the guy, and then everything will be alright! Easy peasy!

It actually starts to make sense for a moment. He gets a little context into the chapters that he’s missed, the places where he felt like he was so off-footed, and helpless. It gives him context to Robin’s previously hollow eyes, or how she had clung to Steve like a lifeline. It makes it easier to understand why Max is so distraught over Billy. It explains why Steve is beat up every year, why he is so protective over the kids, why he is so careful with his words.

And, maybe Eddie is just petty or jealous, or a horrible amalgamation of something else, but he still finds himself wanting to ask if Steve remembers him. 

It’s not the right time, it is never the right time, and when Robin sends him a lingering glance that makes him feel itchy behind his ears and neck, he diverts his gaze, and pretends that he was never even staring in the first place. It does nothing to ease his nerves.

For a little while, for a brief second where he is not chanting his little mantra, he feels as if they are getting somewhere. As if the whole group is getting somewhere. The Creel House, Henry, something to do with music. But then, of course, the days that he had allocated are way too long, and he hadn’t really anticipated Jason and the whole fucking basketball team to be witch-hunting him down like it was the 1800s and he had just levitated a fucking baby.

He supposes it isn’t too far off, but he wasn’t the one doing the floating.

And then it moves in a flash — clambering into the boat, Jason swimming after him, Patrick dying, falling out of the boat, swimming to the shore, stealing a new walkie talkie, remembering the frequency, calling for help, figuring out what the fuck a gate is, finding the boat again, and then clambering back into it. Again.

Eddie doesn’t think about Max, about young, sweet, terrified, Max, and how she is cursed, and how she had floated, and how she is holding it together so much better than he is. Right. Okay. Eddie’s an adult. He’s the adult-iest adult out of everyone here on account of him being the oldest. He can reign it in. He can be strong. Fake it till you make it, right?

(He’s fucking terrified. Eddie’ll admit it to himself as much as he wants — he is utterly afraid. Of whatever monsters the kids have detailed, about the small granules of information that they’ve given him, about this Vecna dude, about what is going to happen to him, about what is going to happen to his friends.

I want to go home. I want to see Wayne, and eat the pancakes that he makes. I want to sleep in my bed, and call my mother, and tell her that I know she never loved me, and that I never loved her, and that maybe that’s okay. That maybe I’m okay with that.

There’s a little voice that crows at him from the back of his brain, sounding so warm and cold and confronting, saying, nothing ever goes right for you, why should this? He shakes it off as he clasps his hands on to the oars).

They float to the middle of the Lover’s Lake, and by then, they are too far away from shore for Eddie to say that he wants to go back. Maybe it’s a good thing, but it mostly just aids in his ever-increasing anxiety and antsy-ness. 

“So,” Eddie drawls, watches Nancy watch the water, steals a glance in Steve’s general direction, and avoids Robin’s watchful gaze. “How are we supposed to check out the ga—”

“Dustin.” 

Steve’s voice cuts through the thick air, coating it in smooth honey. There’s something off about his tone, and it is as if Eddie has pressed play on a frozen piece of film. He’s slouched down into himself, and there’s a crease between his eyebrows, and— did he look this tired a second ago? 

“I am stuck in a time loop. You offered Nancy a slice of sausage and pepperoni pizza in 1983 before Will disappeared. You need to listen to everything I say.”

What? Eddie turns to him face on, and he must give Steve a horrible, terrified expression, because his face softens, and he opens his mouth to maybe say something, but then his eyes have gravitated themselves back towards the radio he had snatched out of Robin’s hand. So Eddie stares, because when he looks around to Nancy, when he looks around to Robin, these people who have supposedly been through this before, they look about as shell shocked as he feels. 

“Dustin? I said that—”

“What do you need me to do?” His voice come out cracked and quiet from the other end, and Steve almost looks like he’s about to topple over, as if he is as worn thin as paper. Eddie reaches a hand to steady him, and Steve leans into it, captures the heat of his palm. Steve tilts his head back, up, towards the stars, and they reflect in his brown eyes like the universe in motion. His hands are clasped on the edges of the boat, and nobody else has dared to break the tension.

“The cops will be here in five minutes. Your parents are looking for you. Book it to Eddie’s trailer, where Lucas and Max will break through the gate in the ceiling and tie together bedsheets, and Dustin will call Sam Owens and tell him everything that has happened. We will meet you through the gate.”

Eddie watches as Steve drops the walkie to the floor of the boat. His hands are shaking, because he doesn’t know what is happening, and Steve is somehow different, and the same, and different, and nobody has said a fucking word.

Steve’s hand reaches for his, the one that is still sitting between them near the boat’s edge. And there is such a softness within his eyes that makes him so terribly confused, because, just a few seconds ago, not even a few minutes ago, Steve didn’t even remember him.

He didn’t remember the bike incident, or the woods, or how he was maybe-friends with Robin. He didn’t remember being in the same classes, or what Eddie now realises was true fear, true, spiral-inducing, head-spinning, fear over his drawing. He doesn’t remember any of it. Any of Eddie’s glances or words or softness. So why does he—

His mouth is moving. Steve is talking. His eyebrows have sharpened again, and he looks as if he is battle-worn and ready. There is a gate, this is how you get through it, this is our battle plan. He ends his sentence off with do you understand? as if he is talking to soldiers rather than teenagers, and it makes something in him hurt. Steve squeezes his hand, and Eddie wants to ask how he knew that was what he needed.

And then, they dive. 

Eddie holds his breath, and kicks his legs. He feels his jeans, and his leather jacket, and his vest weighing him down, and not in the way that will get him closer to the portal in a short amount of time. It’s like he’s moving through putty, or jelly, or some in-between version of the two. 

When he sees the scab, the wound on the lake floor, he shoves his hands through it, feels fingers clasp and pull him out. Steve smiles at him, and his eyes look so hurt under the red-blue Upside Down sky, and Eddie tries not to think about how he looks at him so differently, now. Instead, he runs and runs and runs.

-- -- --

some of my latest chapter!!

[ostensiblynone]

Sometimes when I'm visiting Dad in Indiana I drive past that old place. It's run down now. The fruit trees are gone, the hazelnut and crabapple trees in the hedgerow have been cleared and the space bushhogged and there are no rows of cedars or peonies, and the paddock, the fence, the swimming pool, the pole barn—it's all gone. But if I could go there, buy it, and rebuild it exactly the way it was, with the same shag carpet, wicker furniture, artwork, wallpapers, tables and chairs, and blue tile in the bathroom, the puzzle-like kitchen tiles, then we would all be there again, back before we moved and Mom made Dad sell our things at auction, when there were kegs floating in large bins and a lamb roasting in the driveway and the antiquated, rusty farm equipment in the yard. When I die, if there is a heaven, and if I go there, then it will be that farmhouse exactly as it was in 1984. Death's white light is the lamppost in the drive. I arrive at the mailbox. I walk toward the light. I look to my legs, and I'm wearing Dad's boxers, the same ones I used to wear. My legs are those twiggy things they once were with mosquito bites and the poison ivy, but it doesn't itch because this is heaven. And I'll be that little boy again but with a real boy penis this time appropriate to my age with the little strawberry-colored nub that floats up in the tub while I'm in the bubble bath. My hair will be short and parted on the left. Bunny will be at the top of the drive, and she will pick me up and carry me into the house and I'll smell the lavender shampoo in her hair and beer emanating from her pores. She will be my big sister again. My best friend. Mom and Dad and Kelley and Nina will be there, too. The barn cats, horses, pigs, cow, chickens, rooster, pony, they'll all be there. It will be Fourth of July and family and friends will be in the pool, Mom will smoke unfiltered cigarettes with impunity with her best friend, Mrs. Petrovic, and we'll all eat roast pig and lamb. I'll meet Dad's grandparents for the first time ever. Busia will bring the czarnina and Jaja will bring the wine. I'll look as if I'm too little to drink but I'll drink anyways because in heaven you're any age you want to be and in whichever body you want to be, and it will be fine for me to have a drink with my great-grandparents. Then I think everything will feel good. But I don't know. I always want the things I want and work very hard to get them and then once I have them, I don't know if I want them anymore. Maybe I won't like heaven.

—Iliana Regan, Fieldwork

[kingsresort]

Discover the Unforgettable Beauty of Dandeli: Top Tourist Hotspots to Visit

Have you ever wished for an escape? Not your typical vacation, but one where you wake up to the singing of birds, breathe fresh air that chills your skin, and go on jaw-dropping adventures? Pack your luggage, because we're off to Dandeli, a little slice of paradise buried deep in Karnataka, India's Western Ghats region.

Escape the Ordinary: Unforgettable Experiences in Dandeli Resorts | Kings Resort Dandeli

This website is more than just a destination; it is an experience. Imagine green forests extending to the end of the eye, winding rivers with the majestic Kali River, and adventure in the air. Whether you are a thrill-seeker with a golden heart or a soul-searcher looking for serenity, Dandeli has it all.

So, brace yourself, because we are about to sink into the amazing tourist attractions that will make your Dandeli trip memorable.

First, let's talk about getting the adrenaline pumping! The Kali River is India's second-largest white-water rafting destination.  Imagine your boat squeaky through pebbly rapids, feel the cool spray on your face, and surrounded by the mesmerizing beauty of the Western Ghats. Dandeli Swimming Pool Resorts provide packages for all rafting experience levels, so if you are a seasoned rafter or a complete newbie, you can master the Kali!

But maybe white-water rafting is not your thing. Not to worry! How about a calm kayaking expedition through the same beautiful river? Glide through hidden coves, spot various birds flying through the trees, and immerse yourself in the sheer serenity of the jungle. It's the perfect way to unwind and be one with nature. Many of the Dandeli Jungle Resort provide kayak rentals or guided tours, and it will be a safe and enriching experience.

Feeling like Indiana Jones? Don on your boots for we embark on a guided nature trail through the dense forests of Dandeli. Imagine finding a hidden world to house life in all its glory – from colorful blossoms of flowers and sneaky monkeys to the winged kingdom of birds flying overhead. Professional guides will take you through this intricate ecosystem. Beware, you might spot the elusive Malabar Giant Squirrel or a barking deer.

Are you ready, adventurers, to raise the bar? Let's go zip-lining! Soar into the air in an amazing zipline course, feeling the wind blow past your face as you soar over the gorgeous rainforest canopy. Experience the exhilaration of a bird's-eye perspective of the stunning scenery and get your heart racing. Many Dandeli Resort Packages provide zipline courses on-site, ensuring a safe and entertaining excursion.

But wait, there's more! Ever wanted to try a coracle ride? These traditional circular wicker boats used by local fishermen for hundreds of years are unique ways to float on the gentle currents of the Kali River.   Get a glimpse into the local way of life and enjoy how ingenious traditional techniques are.  Some Dandeli Resort even offer coracle rides as part of their activity packages, so you can really embrace the local culture.

Now, let's turn to tranquillity.  Need a break from life's hustle and bustle? An unforgettable nature walk in the serene forests of Dandeli is perfect for the doctor's prescription. Breathe fresh air, listen to the symphony of birdsong, and feel the wonderful beauty of nature at its best. Many Dandeli Resorts are set amidst nature, with walking trails on site. Start your day with a walk through the misty forest, with the birds chirping the soundtrack. Bliss!

Stressed? How about the old practice of Ayurveda?  Many Dandeli Resorts offer Ayurvedic spa treatments to cleanse your body, remove stress, and promote an overall sense of well-being.  Feel the rejuvenating power of traditional Indian therapies and emerge refreshed and rejuvenated. Imagine yourself in a beautiful spa in the midst of nature, total peace and quiet awaits you!

Finally, drop everything and let nature throw out its arms and greet you with warmth. Let's go camping, under the stars that glitter in the night sky. Come and set up camp by the sparkling Kali River, listen to the nocturnal sounds of the jungle, and the saga of Milky Way. Kings Resort provides best Dandeli Resort offer facilities for camping, with amenities such as fire, and nature trek, to make for a comfortable and unforgettable experience. Gather all your friends, read stories under the campfire, reconnect with nature under the vast sky.

So, what's holding you back? Dandeli is waiting for you, with its rich experiences, gorgeous beauty, and countless opportunities for adventure and relaxation.  It is the perfect place for making memories for life!

[teenmomcentral]

Wedding bells rang on Friday night for Teen Mom couple Jade Cline and Sean Austin!

The Teen Mom: The Next Chapter stars got hitched at the Black Iris Estate in Carmel, Indiana, surrounded by their ‘Teen Mom’ co-stars— and MTV cameras!

Jade and Sean— who reunited after Sean got sober several years ago— got engaged during the first season of ‘Next Chapter.’ 

On their big day, Jade was walked down the aisle by her parents, Christy and Corey (whom she had been somewhat estranged from before they got sober). Sean got emotional upon seeing his bride walking toward him.

After saying “I do,” the newlyweds partied all night with their co-stars.

Here are some more details from the wedding! 

Venue: Jade and Sean chose the Black Iris Estate for the nuptials, which offers an outdoor ceremony space with an black iron gazebo where the couple said their wedding vows. The guests sat in a space surrounded by trees.

Wedding Guests: Nearly the entire ‘Teen Mom’ crew came to Indiana to celebrate the nuptials. Guests included Briana DeJesus and Devoin Austin (who were both in the wedding party); Gary and Kristina Shirley; Amber Portwood; Maci Bookout and Taylor McKinney; Cory Wharton; Kayla Sessler and her boyfriend Ryan Leigh; Brittany DeJesus and her fiancé Steven; Cheyenne Floyd and Zach Davis; and Cheyenne’s father Kyle Floyd, mother Margaret and stepdad. (It does not appear that Tyler Baltierra, Catelynn Lowell or Leah Messer attended the festivities.) 

Sean’s twin brother Brendon served as the best man, while Jade’s best friend Chau was the maid of honor. Their daughter Khloie was reportedly their flowergirl. 

Reception: Jade and Sean’s reception was truly unique. The Estate’s ballroom featured crystal chandeliers and long tables adorned with tabletop greenery and black and white candlesticks. Jade and Sean did a black, white and gold color scheme, complete with black “King and Queen” chairs at their head table. 

Guests were treated to an “upside down” floating wedding cake, as well as a hookah area, photo booth and plenty of dancing. 

Speeches: Jade’s mother, Christy, made a short speech welcoming Sean to their family. After mentioning that she originally told Sean no when he asked for her blessing to marry Jade, she acknowledged how much he has grown and applauded Jade for standing by him through the hard times.

“We’re not giving away a daughter to you, we’re gaining a son,” Christy told Sean.

Chau and Brendon also gave speeches at the reception.

Food: The couple served an elegant meal, complete with fall-themed items and nods to their home state of Indiana. In addition to braised beef and chicken entrees, the menu included Indiana corn pudding, pumpkin desserts and chocolate dipped strawberries.

[remarkablebunny12]

Vacation in Indiana

trying to keep myself happy

is like balancing on a pool float

the free fall out of a tree

lie because i know i won’t

stay this way

no matter how hard i try

remember yesterday?

cus back then i wanted to die

chlorine burns my nose

as i slip into the lukewarm pool

but that’s just how it goes

shove all your emotions down cus you’re at school

[soysaucevictim]

“it feels like my brain (was floating in a fishtank)”

(See warnings/summary on Ao3.)

[ Prologue/Start ] [ Previous ]

Chapter 6: The Nebbish Route

A couple weeks after Remus’s discharge, Remus seemed back to his old self.

But that only lasted another week or so, before he had grown distant again. When Roman tried to ask about it, “You’re making more of them, aren’t you?”

Remus snapped at him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like stealing mouse hats from babies?”

Roman matched him in frustration, “Look! That was just one time!"

He then softened his tone, "Taz, please, you know you can ask us for help?”

Remus looked to respond for a second, but stormed off without another word.

Roman noticed how his brother trembled as he lost line of sight. He was getting less sure about hiding things from the brood, but he feared he was pushing Remus away enough as it was.

-

Roman had committed to doing Janus’s job, despite his worries for his brother. 

The target was in one of the richest parts of Newport Beach, much closer to the coast than Janus’s estate, but technically in the same community.

Janus told him one of the sources of information was one of the help staff, who had the misfortune of learning a little too much about their employer. Janus wanted Roman to find anything questionable about the homeowner’s character.

The informant told them when the help was dismissed and the next time the family was expected to leave for Disneyland again. Janus seemed to trust this person, saying, “They were risking a lot to tell me what they did. They’re under my protection, in case of the likely fallout. There is a small chance that this information isn’t bulletproof. Please, do be cautious.”

Roman probably should have had second thoughts, but he was itching for a good haul. Steve came from a rich family, but this was going to be another world entirely, if Janus’s place was any indication. “You will find the treasures you desire there, that’s guaranteed.”

Roman fidgeted nervously as he approached, he was starting to wish he asked Remus to join him. But Remus was still acting strange and Janus pressed that the operation needed far more discretion than Remus could provide. Roman swallowed down his thoughts of getting caught by the police. He’d fantasized about great heists before this, but this was getting all too real.

Roman scouted around for the best spot to enter, carefully listening to that intuition he had for blind spots in the security systems the place had. Physical barriers, cameras, keypads, all of it. It scared him, when he and Remus infiltrated Steve’s place. He knew what he did there wasn't a human thing. It was like his soul did a flyover, casing the joint a few steps ahead of him. It was thrilling and unnerving in equal measure.

He was hoping his atavisms would carry him through most of it in a pinch.

It was far more fortified than Steve’s place. He had his mp3 player on in one ear, set to loop the entire “Aladdin” and some of the “Indiana Jones” soundtrack at him, for morale. He had a backpack carrying a couple duffel bags, he wasn’t yet sure if he’d be able to carry them full, but it couldn’t hurt. He wore some loudly on-brand sneakers, but otherwise dressed darkly and put on a ski mask.

The place was well-lit and the landscaping was immaculate. It made it easier on Roman to see potential sensors, but it wasn’t easy weaving between those obstacles. It didn’t help when he swore he saw stuff moving in his peripheral, a few times. He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks or if it was an actual threat.

He shook his head, deciding where and how he was going to break in. He had to stay focused and alert. There were trees hiding the walls around the back of the property. There was a pool in there, too. He honed in on the balconies to the top floors.

The adrenaline was kicking in as he found his way to another blind spot along the property’s walls. He saw into the fancy marble grand kitchen and dining space, the doors out into the back patio area. He swung around to the wall the oven was along, square between the two small kitchen windows there.

He glanced back up to the balcony, the side wall of the railing upward and toward his left. He looked down at his claws superimposing themselves into the real world and twitching with excitement. He could either go straight to the roof from where he stood and drop down. Or zigzag between all the windows and climb into it from the side. He grinned underneath the mask, picking the route most bound to confuse anyone investigating this mess afterwards.

It would make for a more fun story to tell Remus. He restrained himself from laughing too loudly as he unfurled his wings to assist the climb.  His claws easily dug into the pristine, traditional stucco that definitely had some cement in it, as if it was mere paper mache. The climbing gyms he frequented were paying off, too. In moments, he was already looking into the master bedroom. The security up there was very light, but then, who’d expect someone coming in from up here?

The exterior lights were all on, but it didn’t look like anyone was inside. Roman pulled out a flashlight, slipped on some gloves, and jimmied the lock with some of the tools he brought along, to get in there.

It was stunning, all the furniture was just so ritzy looking. A giant California King size bed with a velvety canopy and what he later learned to be real mahogany and ebony embellishments to it. Those woods quickly became a theme throughout the room. He kept sweeping the flashlight around for anything particularly eye-catching for his Horror to take. Nothing was calling to him yet, it was this man’s daughter that had the prizes he was most interested in.

He wasn’t even thinking about turning the room over for whatever Janus wanted him to look for here, he kept moving along.

Across from the master bedroom was a gorgeous bathroom, It looked like there were some closets sequestered away if he kept going along that path. He was going to save looking at them for later. Maybe. Maybe on his way out.

He went down the hallway toward the spiraling granite stairway in the center of the property. There were some walkways with ornate railing, peering down into the foyer and ground floor. He needed to finish exploring this floor first – he had a feeling he would find the daughter’s bedroom up there.

He wasn’t sure if he heard something going on in the lower levels, so he doubled his effort in being quiet as he went across to the other wing of the house. He was face-to-face with the most garish pink and sparkly door with “Princess Di'' brandished all over it. There were stickers of the Disney royalty on it too, there was a small part of him that wondered just how old this person was. But he was not in any place to judge.

His jaw dropped, once he opened the door. She was a true aficionado – unlike Steve. Steve only sniped ROMAN’S stuff to spite him, he swore. He was in a whole new world. He didn’t dare close his eyes. He had to resist humming that song, as he entered.

He was spoiled for choice, shelves upon shelves of tiaras, jewelry, cards, lanyards, patches, plushies – all unified in fashion to the ephemera of the House of Mouse. The only thing that really stood out as not belonging was a life-sized King Triton’s Trident - it looked and felt dangerous, heavy and sharp. He went to quick work unfolding one of the duffle bags from his backpack and grabbed pretty much anything else that wasn’t nailed down. And he had to do it fast, not just so he could get out sooner, but he didn’t want to deal with his anathema acting up if he saw any of those accursed pins.

He desperately wished he could take the wardrobe that was so lovingly modeled after Madame Armoire. There was no way in the Underworld he was going to get that thing out of here. The tragedy of it made him whimper and pout for entirely too long. He thought he heard a sigh and the brief shot of panic got him back on task.

In her closet, there were a few dresses, the most prominent being Belle’s ball gown. He grabbed all the hats, shirts, and purses stuffed inside, too. He even took all the Ariel themed toiletries from her bathroom. He was glad he was in the condition to carry that over-full bag at all, feeling electrified by the feeling of it all in his claws… hands.

He went over to the next bedroom in the wing. It wasn’t marked as obviously as the last one, but there were a few more of those stickers on the door. It was locked, but still pretty simple for Roman to crack.

Inside was also amazing. At first. There wasn’t a bed here, it was clearly being used as storage. Roman thought, “Maybe this is her spillover room?”

On multiple hangers, there were several decommissioned Character costumes. He was initially feeling the similar upset to the wardrobe – especially when he saw Mickey and Minnie’s distinct silhouette. There were some more vintage looking costumes too, maybe custom jobs. There was Robin Hood and that bear from Splash Mountain. There wasn’t enough room in the remaining duffel bag for more than one or two of these cartoon characters.

He looked closer and saw that there was something wrong here. Hidden behind the mouse couple was a Donald Duck framed vintage poster on the wall, it was for showings of “Der Fuehrer’s Face.”

Roman squirmed a bit, despite knowing that the original cartoon was technically against the Axis Powers. He hesitantly bagged it, hoping it was just some war historian stuff and not- he looked down at a desk underneath the poster. He found a book that had an angry red cover, with some kind of old-print-style picture on it. A bunch of people standing for cover with guns in hands, his guts churned, vaguely remembering learning about this book from somewhere.

Roman’s knowledge of history was heavily skewed toward Disney stuff, but he had to hit the books to beat his classmates in the honor roll. Some of that knowledge had gotten fuzzy for him, since he didn’t need it for tests anymore. That was until he looked inside. His guts churned leafing through the thing, shaking a little about the pure concentrated hatred within. Roman wanted to burn it so badly.

He looked in the inside cover to find it signed with a note, “WW, I know you lost your last copy. Hope to see you in the next cookout, after the wedding! -KM”

Roman suddenly understood a lot more about why Janus sent him here. He gulped and dug through the desk he just kept finding more books and ephemera supporting white supremacy and their ignominious ilk. Whoever this family was, Roman wanted to be nowhere near them after this.

He put all of it in the second bag – hoping that would be enough for Janus.

He buried it all under the Robin Hood and bear costume. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

He left the room, thinking he would have to at least go down the stairs with this haul. As he approached he heard those noises again, there was a TV left on somewhere downstairs. He thought he was alone – that the family was on a retreat or something.

He tried his best to be quiet, as he tip-toed down the stairs. He stumbled a moment and without thinking let out a quick curse, trying to avoid falling down. He clasped his own mouth, froze and looked everywhere a moment, before continuing down.

He was going to take the back door out, along the way there was a spacious living room with a bar. The furnishing all still carried those mahogany/ebony features, the patriarch’s favorite look it seemed. The entertainment center and shelving took up an entire wall. There was a fancy big screen and it was tuned to the local news.

“… was reported missing yesterday. Her father has posted the reward to find her whereabouts no less than two million dollars, paid for by the generous donations of the Newport Beach Police Department and their patrons, some of whom wish to remain anonymous. If the viewers at home have any information, they should be calling the precinct’s tip line at…”

Roman felt like he’d seen the woman pictured. Before he could connect anything, his thoughts were interrupted by a rapid series of loud noises.

A voice he recognized, “OH, SHIT.”

Quickly followed by an explosion and a bullet in the TV.

More lights came on afterwards.

Roman whirled around to the voice he knew to be Virgil’s, whom was dressed to obscure his identity. Virgil wasn’t packing, so that left a remaining party who fired that shot.

There stood the police chief himself swaying unsteadily and glaring at the two of them. He reeked of booze. Mr. White couldn’t seem to decide where to aim his pistol at. Roman and Virgil froze, trying to think of how to get out of this.

As Wayne hesitated, he glanced at one of the bags and saw his daughter’s belongings. He briefly lowered his weapon with such a look of anger and despair that hit Roman’s appetite so hard it dazed him. He then understood why Remus didn’t like this state – he couldn’t summon his claws or breathe fire to defend himself. His mind was too overwhelmed to craft a proper Nightmare either, even though he briefly tried and failed to.

Wayne was back to pointing the gun at the two of them, rapidly swiveling the barrel back and forth. Virgil inched toward a dark corner of the room, as Wayne’s aim lingered on Roman more and more often, “WHO ARE YOU!? Do YOU have ANY idea WHO YOU’RE FUCKING WITH!?”

At that, Virgil briefly glanced at Roman and stared Wayne down, “HEY. Eyes on me, pig.”

Wayne squeezed the trigger, but Virgil melted into the shadows before the click. Virgil hissed as the bullet shattered the glass back door behind him. The panic in Wayne quickened as he frantically looked around for Virgil, “Where-!?”

Virgil surfaced when the man wasn’t looking their way and webbed the gun to disarm him. He then bound him up in more webs, knocking Wayne to the floor. Wayne’s eyes became saucers, unable to see or comprehend why he could no longer move, “What the fuck ARE YOU!?”

Virgil shot another wad of thread at Wayne’s face, gagging him. Virgil went cold in his answer, “Nobody.”

Virgil tightened the binds, White's painful scream muffled by metaphysical spider webs. Roman shuddered at the sound – it was like Virgil was sharing a meal with him for a moment.

Roman also noticed the man was looking at his shoes, things that had the Mickey Mouse emblem vibrantly printed all-over on a black backdrop, from his position on the floor.

Virgil looked at Roman and nodded his head toward the exit, “Allons!”

Roman shook himself out of the daze and followed Virgil to safety.

Virgil favored one of his arms, as the two of them ran toward a shaded corner of the backyard. Roman was worried, “Are you okay?”

“Not now. Lair. Safer.”

Virgil pulled Roman into pure darkness.

-

As Roman was Feeding, Remus was back at the hotel again.

He was shaking and in a haze. He forgot how he got there. Nurturing and protecting Jude was intense – doubling that effort for this new term was something else.

It didn’t remember when it even entered the Lair this time, it was simply pulled in.

The chamber with its eggs had changed to feel more like their incubators. The “smell” of marketplace churros and cheap car fresheners wafted around it.

When he was back in the hotel, he heard Cass. They gently held his face to make eye contact, “These are just growing pains, it will all be worth it in the end.”

It caressed the clutch. Something else was there- formless, familiar, and wrong.

He saw Cass giving the group, their followers, HIS followers strange capsules. The same kind he saw at the yacht party.

It knew there were just a few more days before its new children would take form outside of the Dream. It was filled with glee, knowing the faster development really was a sign of its own strength as a Beast growing.

Cass was so, so gentle. He was starting to forget how long he was in his Lair or at that hotel. Whenever he expressed some worry or confusion – Cass would reel him back and praise him for his labors.

“You’re safe here, I’ll protect you.”

-

It was too dark and Roman hated it. Remus’s Lair had some light, at least.

It was so cramped that he felt his sides brush up against the walls of the place, his wings catching the spiderwebs that lined them. He shivered, barely able to move in any direction but forward.

There were squelching and chittering noises ahead of him. Roman’s voice rumbled, mouth hanging slightly open, “Virgil?”

The noises became words, it was a surreal experience to Roman still. In the shape of their Horrors, neither had the same expressive nor vocal abilities as humans. Yet they could still talk in some weird way while in the Primordial Dream. “I’m here.”

Roman puffed a bit of fire breath to see better. Webs clung to everything, some of it singed from his flames. As the tunnel widened into a larger chamber – Roman saw cocoons lining the walls and hanging from above. He shivered again, not wanting to think of what could be inside them, “A-are you okay?”

Another brief light and Roman beheld Virgil’s true form. It was like a spider but wrong. Too many eyes and mouth parts. There was a hodgepodge of normal spider limbs and slime-covered tendrils coming from his body. A few of those limbs were bleeding a strange blue color. “Yeah. But, can you lay off the fire, Mushu?”

Roman snorted, accidentally making another flash of light.

Virgil drooped and groaned, “I’d very much like to NOT get blinded, or incinerated, while healing up over here. Jackass.”

“… Sorry.”

Roman immediately remembered when Steve very nearly killed him and went still. If Roman wasn’t a monster – he wouldn’t have been able to survive it. But if Roman wasn’t a monster, he wouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place. His thoughts went back to Remus and other existential what ifs.

There was some quiet as Virgil rested there. Roman was unable to join in the siesta. It was too dark in there and too much Not Roman, in Virgil’s Lair. Roman really wanted to be back in his own cave and savor the haul he recovered.

It was clear Virgil wasn’t nearly as badly injured as Roman had been – it certainly wasn’t a gunshot wound to the chest. It wasn’t long before Virgil stirred again, “I have a way to Jan’s place from here, come see.”

Roman wasn’t really sure if he had just adjusted to the dark or if Virgil turned up some dimmer lights in there. He then remembered how he could breathe in Remus’s Lair – because Remus trusted him inside there.

“Why were you following me into Wayne’s place?”

“Why do you think?”

Roman went quiet for a moment, before saying, “Thanks.”

Virgil had healed without much incident, though he clearly couldn’t hide that from Patton, when they returned. The kid really chewed Virgil out for it, embarrassing Virgil a great deal.

Roman was still digesting the heavy meal from the White family’s house. It was delicious – even though he was more than glad to hand off the hateful ephemera to Janus. He wasn’t prepared for how warmly Jan smiled at him for taking that on and for coming back in one piece.

-

Remus was elsewhere, physically and mentally, more and more often. Remus’s sense of time drifted before, back when he was incubating Jude, but not nearly this much. He seemed to get more and more confused when he was told what day it was.

Roman wasn’t the only one concerned about it. Vic noticed Remus wouldn’t show up at the zoo. Carrie noticed Remus missed more and more meals with the family.

Janus and Ellis were curious. Virgil and Patton seemed unsettled.

So, it was a surprise when Remus finally was back home again, in Santa Ana. He was unnervingly quiet.

Roman was there, helping Carrie get some inihaw going in the backyard. Vic was going to be a little late, but he promised he would catch the meal while it was still warm.

Things were in such a state of flux, that Carrie and Vic chose not to invite any of the extended family. They hoped they could eventually feel safe enough to join each other again, more often.

Chicken and milkfish were on the menu. Carrie had since cleaned the chicken and marinated it overnight in a banana ketchup based sauce. Roman helped clean and stuff the fish with ginger and veggies, around noon.

Roman wished he could show off, lighting the coals with his fire breath. But his Horror was still too sedate from raiding the Whites’ house for him to pull it into the real world. So he pouted, using the conventional means of striking a firelighter match into them. It was a waiting game for the grill to be ready, so he helped with other meal preparations like mixing up a fresh batch of toyomansi sauce to dip everything in and washing some rice.

Roman just loved cooking with his mom, it was a return to normalcy and comfort. The smells that swirled the kitchen and backyard made him drool a little. Remus typically occupied himself during most of this process – not much of a cook. He always declared his role was official taste tester, but today he seemed to be content lounging in front of the TV. No one there caught the way he just stared through the thing, nor his lack of movement.

Dinner was almost ready. The signal went dead on the TV, filling the living room with the sound of static. While Carrie was setting up the bench for dining outside, Roman walked over to Remus.

Remus was like a statue, not moving to do anything about the white noise in the room. Roman cautiously tapped his shoulder from behind, “Taz, are you-?”

The touch sent a full-body shiver through Roman. His brother already ran cold – ever since those nightmares started when they were small, according to their parents. Roman tended to feel that difference more starkly, constantly running hot – but this was different.

Remus was somehow a little colder to the touch than usual, and was sweating. Roman triple-glanced at the thermostat and looked at his brother – this wasn’t right. He looked ill. Roman was about to call out to their mom when Remus finally and slowly moved his head to face him.

The voice that came from Remus did not sound like him at all, “Está un poco ocupado. Would you like to leave a message?”

“N-not funny, Remus.”

Not-Remus tilted his head, “I wanted to see if he was lying to me about a few things, like…”

Remus dug into his pocket and dangled one of those blasted Disney pins. Another of that run of knock-offs with Stitch and The Tower of Terror that he just could never seem to escape from. The colors were all wrong, the enamel chipped, the metal had an unsightly patina to it. Suddenly. Roman was frozen, staring into all the details that made him so angry about it.

Roman’s Hunger was a distant echo in his over-full state – but so was the part of him screaming to move. Not-Remus got up, produced a knife, and approached him with a murderous smile. Roman couldn’t even scream – the anathema’s hold completely neutralized him like Virgil did with Mr. White.

Not-Remus took the knife and was about to mirror the scar from when Steve’s bullet grazed Remus’s face. That chase up the fire escape suddenly felt like it happened yesterday. Roman couldn’t do or say anything other than well-up, that vulnerability being trampled on hurt more than the knife biting his face. The two's history of roughhousing wasn’t anything like this.

As soon as the first drop of blood started to bead out, there was a shriek. It was their mom.

That seemed to rattle Remus enough to drop the pin and step back briefly. Roman still couldn’t move, his vision still tunneling on that pin on the ground. He was losing his awareness of what was happening around him.

Carrie had her hand on her estoc, ready to draw, fiercely staring down Remus, “Remus. Jonás. Espinoza. What. Are. You. Doing!?”

Remus blinked and looked around himself, as if realizing what he’d just done to his brother. And what his own mother could do to him. Guilt was not a face Remus wore practically ever, but it was written all over him. Guilt and confusion. He still held onto that knife with a white-knuckled grip.

He sounded so small when he asked Carrie, “Mamá, ¿q-qué me pasa? ”

Carrie shook with rage as the Bright Dream was screaming to her contradictions on what to do here. She didn’t want to hurt her own child! But then Remus’s expression changed to disinterest, “I suppose he did lie about some things.”

The instant after that, Not-Remus was charging at Roman with the blade. Roman, still frozen.

Carrie wasn’t thinking, as she took in her surroundings and commanded Remus, “Before I-we do anything I’ll regret. REMUS! You NEED to LEAVE. NOW.”

The footfalls stopped. The knife dropped.

Carrie looked at Remus again. Remus was scared of her, wearing the same look as Rich did when he fell from the overpass. The same look Roman had when she was Called. Immediately, she knew she had just cursed her own son.

Remus took off out the door, without another word.

She shoved the pin under the sofa, hoping it would knock Roman out of his trance. Instead, he instinctively jumped for it and was about to upturn the furniture. The only thought in his mind was to hold it and protect it – the reassurance that it was intact and real overriding everything else.

Immediately, Carrie went to halt him. Before he could process anything else and stop squirming in her cradling him, she simply wept. It was probably for the best that he couldn’t claw at her in the state he was in.

She was worried about Roman, whom had taken the longest time to calm down from the spell she’d ever witnessed. She was also already worrying for Remus’s safety and whether she’d see him again, after that.

The dinner was going cold.

-

@milktea531 @r0sethrills

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[ Next ]

[rustedhearts]

sentimental reasons (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: sunday afternoon musings in autumn.

uses she her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring ✶

tags: pregnant!reader, fluff, that’s about it.

sentimental reasons - nat king cole

hawkins, indiana, october 20th 1996

“I wonder if she’ll have my eyes.”

“Hmm. I hope.”

Steve’s lashes tickled the tip of your finger as it delicately scaled the soft tissue of his eyelid. His lip quirked, nose twitching when you came to trace the slope of it: bent sideways by brutal fists barreling into cartilage. But once, it was smooth and straight. No matter how crooked or left-leaning it was these days, you still found it handsome.

“Hope she doesn’t get stuck with that,” Steve snorted, and you frowned as you smoothed your thumb over the swollen bridge. “Hope she has her mama’s.”

Steve lifted his hand from where it rested on your stomach to bop your nose. You smiled, fingers pushing through the long tresses framing his face. You had been reclining on your back for a few hours now, late-term pregnancy responsible for consistent exhaustion and sore ligaments. It felt like the whole of you existed in the front, and sometimes you worried you were walking on a forward slant.

The house smelled like the slowly-browned roast your mother brought you, warming in the crockpot; the sweet aroma of brown sugar carrots and the bitter snap of celery. From your open window: damp earth and the musk of goldenrod leaves. It smelled like home.

Cheek pressed gently to your stomach, chapped hands feeling for flutters and kicks, massaging your aches through a faded, stretched-out tee: Steve. He smelled like a morning Marlboro—faded and nipped away by the wind—and the woodsy vanilla of your laundry detergent. He smelled like Steve. He felt like Steve: warm and firm and lovely. Cocooned between his half-pressed weight and the softness of the comforter, you felt you could’ve lied there for the rest of your life.

You closed your eyes and listened to the leaves rustle in the afternoon. The distant babble of youthful laughter. The whoosh of rubber on asphalt at thirty-five miles an hour. The crunch of bike tires over the pile of leaves Steve raked and then left on the tree lawn so he could tend to you.

He heard your silence from the front yard. He felt your ache.

“It’s funny,” Steve murmured, eyes wide and alert, finger trailing a path down the roundness of your bump. “I never thought I’d be here. Never thought I’d have…another part of me. Like this.”

He flattened his palm to rub across your belly, spreading a blissful massage that had you shifting. Expelling a breezy sigh, you blindly tucked a patch of hair behind Steve’s ear. Soft, just-shampooed: vetiver and musk.

“She’s all ours, baby,” he whispered.

The room swayed in the stillness. Like being cradled in a lullaby, gently rocked to sleep by one dreamy, autumnal afternoon. You felt like you were floating, gently bobbing to the rush and recede of the sea.

"Kinda scary to think about," you returned a moment later, just as quietly. You peeped your eyes open to find Steve's face.

Smoothed into mindless relaxation, he watched his own hand lift over the mound of your bump. Back and forth, over the swell and down the valleys. His wedding band caught a spark of pale afternoon light: thick silver tungsten around his ring finger. Unbreakable. Irreplaceable.

Work got in the way of him wearing it often, but on long weekends like this—when you slipped away from the busy, sunny California life for a slice of small town America back home—Steve slipped the ring on and never took it off.

He liked seeing it on his hand. He liked hearing it clink with yours when you held hands at night. He liked seeing them together—your ring, his ring—and knowing: this was eternal.

"God I hope I don't fuck it up."

You tipped your head on the pillow, craning to find Steve. You gently scraped your nails over his scalp, watching them create gaps in his mop of hair.

"You won't," you cooed. "No more than all the other parents."

Steve's lips curled into a pursed smile, handsome and boyish. Your chest stuttered a moment.

"Thanks, angel. Think 'm just nervous," he sighed, words tight between his teeth with his chin pressed to your belly.

You shifted again, socked feet rubbing his sides. "Me too. My mom said she used to throw up just from nerves right before she had me, but I think I turned out alright."

He breezed into another grin, a scoffed laugh shooting from his mouth. "Yeah."

You twirled a strand of hair near his brow around your finger. It curled into shape, tickling his eye.

"Wonder if my mom was nervous with me," he whispered.

You took pause, scanning the surface of his face. His eyes flicked away from your stomach toward your own, and he instantly scoffed and shifted on his stomach.

"Ah, shit, sorry. That was—sorry—"

"Baby, hey," you awed, reaching down to cup his face. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to wonder."

Steve halted a moment. Staring at you, head risen from his place on your center body, eyes a little rounder and wider and laced with pleading. Softened and sweet, you flashed him a small, reassuring smile and scratched your nails against his scalp again. He slowly sank back down, rubbing his cheek against your clothed belly.

“‘Kay,” he murmured.

“Wanna talk more about it—“

“No, baby. Just…wanna talk about names.”

You giggled. “Names?”

You could see the coil of his mouth from here, how the side of his face lifted with the small quirk of muscle.

“Yeah. Been thinkin’ about what we’re gonna name little Harrington.”

Your heart swelled to double the size, aching in your chest. You could barely contain the burst of adoration blooming with a pulse.

“You have?”

Steve’s finger made a zig-zag trail on your belly again. “Mhm. So…let me see it.”

You blinked, brows etching together. “See what?”

Steve turned his head, hair dragging across your belly and flouncing from his face. “The notebook.”

You clapped your hands together with a giddy grin. You’ve kept a notebook of baby names since your first sonogram. You knew you were getting ahead of yourself, and there were chances the pregnancy wouldn’t stick—but all you could think about was what you’d name your child. When you found out it was a girl, that you’d have a daughter, the notebook immediately became a place of scribbles and exclamation marks and highlighted stars.

Interestingly enough, when you started to show a bump beneath your clothes and required more assistance for daily tasks, Steve swapped roles with you as the worrier. He helped you up and down stairs, poured your cereal, made you smoothies, cut your steak, and did his best to do the cleaning exactly the way you did it.

Steve was terrified you’d lose the baby, and that it would be all his fault.

For some reason, naming the baby felt like “jinxing it” to him.

“Really, you wanna see it?” you squealed, capturing your lip between your teeth.

Steve chuckled, a deep, grumbling sound that shuddered through you. “Yeah, baby.”

“Okay good, because I can’t get up.”

Steve chortled, shifting on his stomach to press a kiss to your belly, wide hands spanned on either side. He wiggled off the bed and headed toward the door, rounding the corner toward the library room.

The Hawkins house, made the Harrington residence circa 1994, had a gorgeous, oak-shelved room full of first editions and signed copies. Steve spared no expense when it came to your little corner of the house, where he often found you curled up in the window seat scribbling in a journal, or scanning a book. You had a desk against the wallpapered wall, where a type writer from 1935 found at a flea market in Virginia sat with every intention of good use. Steve hated the sound of your clacking, but you said the sound was “transcendent.”

Steve padded into the room, blanketed in a pale grey darkness as the sky muddled with rain clouds. The window came to a peak in a rounded arch, wet with old rain drops from last night’s shower. Collections of leaves from the oak tree looming in the yard congregated on the glass in groups of yellow.

He found the notebook on the desk beneath your piles of paper, all full of ink. Steve fought the urge to filter through it as he returned to the bedroom.

You struggled to sit yourself up, wobbling on your palms like doing the crab walk. Steve flung the notebook toward the bed and rushed to your side, hands at the ready.

“Baby,” he huffed, hoisting you toward the pillows at the headboard, which he fluffed adamantly as you settled back. “Wait for me.”

Your eyes rolled, though you were already out of breath. “I had it.”

He shot you a pointed look through narrowed brows, and fumbled for the notebook at the edge of the mattress. He settled beside you, and as the air followed his motions, you caught whiffs of damp soil from his time outside this morning.

“Okay, open it,” you insisted, voice wavering with delight.

Steve flipped the spine open, revealing the first lined page of paper with your familiar writing.

“Jesus Christ, honey,” Steve drawled, pulling the notebook back an inch to take it all in. His eyesight had been slipping for the past year and a half.

He needed glasses, but refused to wear them.

Cheeks swelling with warmth, you tipped your head over to get a peek of your work. “I had a lot of ideas.”

"And they're...alphabetized," Steve commented, tone thick with amusement.

"Obviously."

Steve scanned the list of names, eyes shuttering half-closed and popping back open like a camera lens. The ones he didn’t like got a screwed up face in response. Steve had a headache by the time he got to the fourth page, and the names weren't stopping.

Only few caught his eye: Alice, Caroline, Catherine, Eloise, Emma, Lily, Josephine, Jane, Winnie.

As he continued to scan, he found himself pairing the names with his own surname. Alice Harrington, Catherine Harrington, Lily Harrington. None had the ring he thought they would.

"Do you have a favorite?" he asked, flipping pages again.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you gently skirted the pads of your finger over the warm skin of his forearm. You trailed them to the bone of his knuckle, feeling the purple veins protruding beneath the flesh, plumped from overexertion.

"Mhm," you hummed. "But I don't want to sway you."

Steve turned his head, lips brushing your temple. "It's Jane."

You lifted your head so quickly that it knocked Steve's chin, and he tongued away the pain with a wordless grimace as your face bloomed with warm thrill. You gazed at your husband in delightful wonderment.

"How did you know?"

"It had five stars next to it."

You giggled, warmth increasing. "Oh."

"And," he added, head cocking to pop a kiss on your cheek. "I remember you mentioned that name before. Back when we were still dating, talkin' about kids. You said you always loved the name Jane, and if you ever had a girl, that would be your top choice."

Looping your arm around Steve's, you squeezed him close and nuzzled his neck. "Oh, Steve, you are so hot right now."

Steve's laughter was sharp and surprised, and he snapped the notebook closed to toss it aside. Hands free and desiring your touch, he gently pulled at your legs until you reclined flat on the bed again.

"I know."

Mounting over you with an agreeable and cautious space between his body and your bump, he pressed a gentle pepper of smooches to your face. You ran your hands across his chest, playing with the silver chain around his neck, thin and linked.

"So...Jane it is?"

Steve pulled back, eyes flicking between yours. His features were soft, a sharp contrast to the scars and bruises they regularly carried. He brushed the back of two fingers across your brow, guiding your hair away.

"Jane it is, my love."

♡ ♡