#stranger things trigger warnings

[toolazytocare]

in case people need it:

here’s a link to my stranger things trigger warnings masterpost: x

please know that it hasn’t been updated for season 3 or 4. I’m not sure it ever will.

[leslie057]

when the red string of fate has you tied down but bae is an emotionally confused sadboy who isn’t going to college with you after this whole apocalypse thing is over

(poor baby)

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 11

part 1, prev part

As fast as Eddie opens his eyes, he shuts them again. Falling back into the slow, deep breaths and constant heartbeats.

Something changed.

Wayne calls the nurse. They check off things on their charts, try to ask Eddie some questions. Like if he can move his hand, try to open his eyes again. Nothing happens. They say something about checking back every few hours.

He’s convinced that they don’t believe him. That they think he fabricated it all out of some hope filled delusion. Not like he’s been waiting here for days. Praying for his boy to wake up. Wishing in some miracle that he’d be able to smile again. All for it to be answered and taken away from him in a blink of his eyes.

But the nurse assures him that they believe him. Explain how most coma patients start to wake up with opening their eyes, moving their hands. How if he shows more movement while Wayne’s here, they’d like to know about it. Will be checking up on him more frequently, and in longer increments to try and document them.

It all sounds too good to be true. Like the last string of hope holding on to dear life. The only thing holding Wayne together. Tying him down so he doesn’t fall down and break.

He needs to get out of here for a while. Take a night for himself.

He drives around, burning gas traveling to an unknown location. Mindlessly following the paths he knows well. Drives past the trailer park three times, almost turning in. Only stopped by the construction signs blocking his path. Ends at the bar he would frequent on his nights off. Would get a beer to cool off after work. Try to forget about life for a while.

Forgetting sounds nice. Loosening the stress that knots in his shoulders. Be able to sleep restfully for a night. Refresh enough to walk back into that hospital room with a full basket of hope. All for it to slowly drain again.

It can’t drain this time.

Instead, Wayne brings himself to a gas station and counts the stray dollars and quarters in his glove box. Has just enough to buy himself a case of beer. Giving himself a limit so he doesn’t spend, or drink more than he can afford.

Sees Harrington and his brown-haired friend walk out of the video store they work at. Closing it up and heading to the diner down the road. Perfectly fine.

No matter how hard Wayne tries, the anger still points in Steve’s direction. For reasons he doesn’t even know anymore. More because it’s easy. They went through the same attack. Steve knows enough about Eddie from that week to have the answer Wayne craved.

But no one tells him anything. Continuously keeps secrets from him without good explanations. Makes this so much harder than it should be. Makes him down beer after beer, wanting to just make any of this easier.

Wayne wakes up the next morning with empty beer cans pressed into his side and a crick in his neck that won’t quit. Cracks his back in a way that just makes it worse. Cleans himself up, tries to wipe away the bags under his eyes. Scrub off the hospital and beer in the shower. Change into slightly cleaner clothes. Cursing himself for using his quarters for beer instead of the laundromat.

He makes his way to the hospital. Eating a shitty stale toaster pastry and hoping it’ll be enough. Knowing his upcoming paycheck will be mostly eaten up by all the other things before him. Walks into the room a little after eleven. A nurse asking Eddie question after question.

Eddie responding to almost every one of them. Opens his eyes when asked, then closes them again. Squeezes the nurse’s hand gently. Turns his head just slightly toward the light.

The hope basket overfills this time.

Dustin comes in the room a little after three. Bookbag thrown over his shoulder, ruffling through to find the book. Shocked still when he sees Eddie opening his eyes.

“He’s awake,” he says in disbelief. Tears starting to form in his eyes.

“Not quite.” Wayne gently corrects. “He still has a long way to go before he can respond, or even register what’s happenin’ around him. His body and mind are racing to get back in sync with each other.”

That’s what the nurses told him earlier. How he’s slowly getting there but isn’t all the way awake again. He’s there, and awake, but not all the way yet. It just all takes time.

“Can he hear me?”

Wayne looks at his boy, watching as his head turns ever so gently toward the two of them. “I think he might, yeah.”

Dustin leans forward, placing his hand over Eddie’s. Watched as his hand tenses at the touch. “Eddie,” his voice breaks. “It’s Dustin. You know, Henderson. I just wanted to say that you’re doing a great job. I hope you get better really soon. I’ve really missed you. And I’m sorry. You should have never been apart of this, I should have never dragged you into it the way I did. I wouldn’t have if I knew you would end up here.”

Wayne wants to know what this all means. What Eddie was dragged into. How this poor kid knew about it enough to drag anyone into anything. How dangerous this all really was.

But it isn’t the right time for these questions. Not for this kid to answer right now. He just sits back and listens to the next chapter of the book. Watches as Eddie responds to it. Is almost brought to tears with each time he opens his eyes to a part he likes. As Dustin stops just to make sure it’s true.

He follows Dustin out when he goes to leave. Sees how he runs up to Steve in the waiting room. Eyes closed and head resting on the wall.

“Steve, Eddie’s starting to wake up,” Dustin shares excitedly.

Steve picks his head off the wall enough for the visible relieved breath to show. “That’s-that’s really good, Dustin.”

He takes a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slides them on. His head thunks back on the wall. Almost like he’s hungover. Face lost some color, voice sounding breathless.

“Are you ok?” Dustin asks.

Steve shakes his head gently. “Call your mom, can’t drive home.”

“Shit ok.” Dustin runs off to the nearest payphone. Pulling a few quarters out of his bag and dialing a number.

The brown-haired girl that Wayne should really know the name of comes down the hallway. Immediately knowing that something’s wrong with Steve and rushing over with a bottle of water. Asking him something before scolding about how he’s going to put himself back into a hospital bed.

Wayne’s not so sure this is just a hangover.

“How bad’s the pain?” The girls asks, pouring some of the water onto a tissue and pressing it against Steve’s head.

“Eight,” Steve exhales. Fighting like he’s about to puke.

The girl must realize this too, as she slings one of his arms over her shoulders and basically drags him to the bathrooms.

Wayne’s starting to realize that there’s a lot he doesn’t know. Made harsh judgements that might have not been deserved. He’s starting to realize that he wants to know what happened. To all of them. About all of them. Why this group of people know each other and how it all connects to Eddie.

He just has to start asking the questions.

Next part

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[falloutwitch2004]

Steve Harrington x Reader recovering from ED Headcanons

TW: mentions of eating disorder

○ when Steve found out, he was so guilty that he hadn't noticed sooner. He had his original suspicions when you would always be in sweatshirts. Turns out it was hiding just how much weight you had lost.

○ since Steve's parents weren't around enough to care, you had practically moved yourself in with him. This allowed Steve to watch ypu like a hawk as you recovered.

○ starting the road to recovery was no easy feat. "Hey sunshine, want some breakfast?" Steve would ask in the morning. "Not really." You'd respond. He'd end up coaxing you to at least have a yogurt.

○ it took a while before you were eating normally again. Even then, you'd have tough days. Steve was an angel though. He was always so sweet and encouraging with words like, "it doesn't have to be anything big, sunshine. I'm happy if it's even just a fruit cup."

○ when he landed a job at Scoops Ahoy, Steve would always get you a strawberry cup with bananas. It was your absolute favorite and what you had gotten on your first date with Steve. It didn't have to be a special occasion, he was just proud to see you get back to normal.

[lemscipher]

this is my tfs horror au design for henry!! horror au doesnt really narrow it much so ill try to explain:

its a more psychological horror version of tfs i guess? henry is a very strict christian who believes that god is punishing him for his sins with divine power and immortality due to the scar on his hand being shaped like the cross; he believes he is a god to some extent (or rather a vessel to a higher god which in this case is the mindflayer). the animal killings are sacrifices to the mindflayer like in the og show, but instead all of the things/people henry have killed have a cross carved into their heads. virginia and victor are even worse in their aspects, victor resorts to many more unhealthy coping mechanisms not just alcoholism (he does drugs, shoots things when hes angry etc.), virginia is a lot worse, much more abusive and even tries to exorcise henry at one point. henry is traumatised by all of this and it leads to a lot of self hatred and thinking that god hates him, and when hes eventually sent to the lab he thinks brenner is trying to rid him of his divine connection and is a lot more hostile towards him (hes also quite scared as he doesnt want to be drugged and end up like his father), brenner probably splashes henry with holy water or sm idk. if you want more info on this au feel free to lmk!!

pls also any name ideas for this au are appreciated "horror" is really shit 😭😭

credits to @/2ds-sleeping-powder for the bandaid headcanon also

[inthedarknessofnight]

I watched The Holdovers for the first time over the holidays (loved it btw), and for some reason I've also been getting flashbacks to last year when I basically devoured The Secret History and If We Were Villains back to back... And because I have this little devil on my shoulder constantly telling me to Steddie-fy everything, my brain immediately went like, ‘but what if Steve and Eddie both ended up stuck at their college campus over winter break.’ Consider this my pathetic attempt at their little forced-proximity romance story.

So, without further ado, I give you... Part 1

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Steve Harrington leaned out of his dorm room window, filling his lungs with the chilly air of a New Hampshire winter morning. Underneath him, the courtyard was brimming with students scurrying left and right, bags of various shapes and sizes slung over their shoulders, and even an occasional suitcase being dragged through the wet slush that covered the paved pathways, courtesy of last night’s snowstorm. Lively chatter echoed off the walls of the residence halls enclosing the courtyard, as his fellow students tried to squeeze in as many well-wishes, festive greetings, and goodbyes as they could, before their designated rides took them to whichever overpriced holiday destination their families chose this year. Steve tried his best to avoid getting too morose about it all, focusing on fumbling around his jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter. He knew Patrick, their resident assistant, would have been on his ass before he even drew the first breath, but to everyone’s great surprise, he’d started his holiday a week early, prompting Steve and pretty much every other person in the building to take up smoking out of the window.

As soon as the first plume of smoke hit his lungs, Steve could feel the negative thoughts trickling away. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and exhaled, savouring the moment. Unfortunately, his moment of bliss was short-lived, as Tommy Hagan barged into his room in his usual fashion—without so much as a knock.

“Harrington! You trying to get sent home or something?” Tommy asked, an annoying smirk stretching across his face.

“Fuck you, Hagan. I’m not that stupid, okay? RA’s gone, it’s basically a free-for-all over here,” Steve replied nonchalantly and leaned out again, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Alright, alright, we get it, Henderson Hall’s the coolest. Unless y’all burn it down,” Tommy clicked his tongue, “then, probably not so much,” he delivered what, Steve could only assume, was supposed to be the punchline. When Tommy realised Steve wasn’t going to deign that with a response, he merely scoffed and continued.

“So, hey. I thought I’d check if you’ve changed your mind about that ski trip? I know you said you wanted to stay here, catch up on whatever crap you’ve got going on with that ridiculous degree of yours, but…” Steve glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Tommy quirk an eyebrow at him suggestively. “Well, Carol stayed at that same place with her family last year, and according to her, they have a sauna and, like, a bunch of hot tubs. And, umm… Tammy will be there, if you know what I mean,” Tommy winked at him.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction Tommy expected from him, especially since he’d never really had a thing for Tammy beyond them hooking up a few times during their first year of college. In fact, he had no intention of going on that trip if Phoebe Cates herself walked in and personally offered him daily blowjobs. But he couldn’t exactly look Tommy in the eye and say, ‘Funny story—I got into a fight with my dad because he’s being an asshole, and now he’s refusing to give me any more money unless I come home and talk it through with him in person’. Instead, it was easier to turn around, face Tommy, and say…

“Nah, man. Already told my parents I can’t come to Cancun with them, because I need to study or I might fail and waste three years’ worth of their precious investments in my education,” which they didn’t even approve of in the first place, Steve finished the sentence in the privacy of his own mind. “They’d probably skin me alive if they found out I blew them off just so I could run off with you guys.” At least he didn’t have to lie about that last part.

“Dude, aren’t you, like, majoring in philosophy, or some shit? I thought you guys just sit around and talk all day,” Tommy scoffed. Philosophy and drama, actually, Steve thought, but knew all too well the addition would do little to help his case, so he didn’t bother correcting him.

“Yeah, well… Apparently, you have to have at least some idea what you’re talking about before you get to ‘just sit and talk,’” Steve countered. “But, hey, for all it’s worth, I really appreciate the offer, man. You enjoy that sauna for the both of us, okay?” He threw Tommy a wink, which immediately caused him to cringe internally. Tommy, resigned to being unable to persuade him, simply shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t get you man but, uh, suit yourself,” Tommy said after a brief moment of consideration and gave Steve a dismissive wave. “Have a good one. I’ll see you after break, Harrington,” he added before promptly turning his back to Steve and exiting the room.

With Tommy gone, Steve felt like he could finally breathe again. The feeling didn’t last, though. A cold breeze blew through the open window, bringing with it a familiar feeling of loneliness that always settled deep inside his bones. Steve knew all too well the feeling had nothing to do with a little movement of air. Because it felt more like an old wound reopening. Because maybe it’s always been here, Steve admitted quietly. Etched into his skin. Blended into his marrow. Flowing through him like blood through his veins. It was the kind of cold he couldn’t just close a window on, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he opted to close the one in front of him, making sure to stub out the cigarette he’d left burning on the windowsill before lowering the window pane and twisting the handle. He leaned his forearms on the inner ledge and rested his forehead against the cool glass. It was only a few weeks. He could do this. After all, he was used to empty rooms and haunted halls—these just happened to be slightly bigger empty rooms and haunted halls. Right?

—

Steve Harrington had never been more wrong. By the time day three of his self-imposed exile rolled around, he was fairly certain he was losing his mind. The worst thing was, he couldn’t do anything about it.

The first weekend passed with little fanfare, the campus growing quieter with each passing day. From Monday morning onwards, the whole thing was practically haunted. In fact, Steve was the only occupant left in Henderson Hall, barring some guy in the room down the hall from him. Steve didn’t really know him, but he was pretty sure he was a Music major—a suspicion the asshole happily confirmed by treating the seemingly empty dorm to a full-on concert in the middle of the night. When Steve ran into him in the dorm’s communal kitchen the following morning, the guy looked startled by his presence at first, then simply offered Steve an apologetic smile and mumbled something under his breath before darting out. Great, Steve thought to himself and slumped against and empty chair at the dining table. He was already well on the way to going batshit crazy, and now, his only company was the dorm’s resident weirdo. To be fair, there were at least two other people on campus that he was presently aware of, down the road in Mayfield Hall: a girl from the languages department he knew from Mrs. Click’s first-year rhetoric class, but wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with, and a girl he was pretty sure was in the Dance program, since they’d attended a movement class together the previous year. He’d noticed the former while out on one of his regular morning runs, catching sight of her just as she slipped on a particularly nasty patch of the frozen path, landing gracelessly on her backside. He went off course to help her and make sure she was okay, but she merely levelled him with a deadly stare. That was all the encouragement Steve needed to get the hell out of there.

With no company to save him from boredom and distract him from the gnawing sense of loneliness, Steve kept busy as best as he could. He even came to consider the dining hall being closed for the holidays a small mercy, as he occupied himself with planning his meals and taking the time to prepare them. On Tuesday, he made the short, fifteen-minute drive to the nearest town and bought a week’s worth of groceries, in case the weather prevented him from being able to make that trip again in the coming days. Steve was happy to find the fridge in the communal kitchen nice and empty for once—well, except for a frankly impressive supply of beer, which he could only assume belonged to the other remaining resident. 

Speaking of the rather unusual fellow—they’d started to develop a sort of quiet camaraderie, the two of them. They would usually bump into each other at lunchtime and again at dinnertime, and once Steve had been able to let go of the resentment he held towards his fellow resident, for the little nocturnal performance he put on the first night, they’d even gone as far as greeting each other.

“Hey, man,” the other guy would say, as he leisurely strolled into the kitchen, normally around noon, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hi,” Steve would reply, giving a quick nod and small smile.

And that’s essentially how the entire first week of winter break went by. Slowly, Steve began to find comfort in the little routine they’d established. In a way, it soothed the ache inside him, to know that, without fail, his weird neighbour would always wake up way too late and meet him in the kitchen at mealtime to exchange a greeting or two. The guy had even taken to hovering there while Steve finished whatever dish he was making that day, and Steve was surprised at how quickly he became used to his quiet company (and Steve was applying this term liberally, by the way, since the guy clearly found it impossible to move around without making an array of random sounds). But despite how strange he was, Steve found his presence oddly calming, if not comforting. It also gave Steve a little insight into his habits, which were no less strange than the man himself. Over time, Steve noticed the guy seemingly lived on nothing but Cheerios, beer, and the occasional microwave meal. It made Steve wonder how the hell he was still alive—or how he managed to keep such a slender physique. Not that he’d been paying much attention to said physique, of course. Steve guessed he was just one of those people who lucked out with their metabolism. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the man’s curious gaze on him every time he saw Steve crafting his next meal. It even got to the point where Steve was half-convinced he could hear the guy sniffing the air as soon as he walked into the kitchen at mealtime, but whenever Steve glanced over his shoulder to check for proof, the other man immediately corrected himself, pretending to be occupied with with trivial tasks, like pouring more milk into his already full bowl of cereal. 

Steve found it sort of endearing—and, if he was being totally honest, it filled him with a sense of pride, to see another person react to his cooking that way. He loved cooking. Hell, he loved cooking for other people even more than he did himself, even if that opportunity rarely presented itself. True, he’d gained his cooking skills mainly out of necessity, having to take care of himself from a young age, but he knew not everyone grew up with a fully stocked pantry and the same resources and tools he had at his disposal. Who was he to assume that hadn’t been the case for his mysterious roomie? At the end of the day, even if he turned out to be too lazy to cook, it wouldn’t kill Steve to toss a double portion of spaghetti into the water and add a bit more tomato purée to his sauce—it would still be the most nutritious meal the guy’s had in days. If nothing else, you’ll gain a new friend and maybe you won’t have to do this alone, his brain supplied. Steve pushed the thought to the back of his mind. 

Emboldened by his newfound purpose, Steve put down the book he’d been trying to get through for the past week and made it for the kitchen. If he was lucky, he still had about two hours before his neighbour got up, which should give Steve enough time to have the sauce ready by the time the guy walked into the kitchen. At 12.30 pm, like clockwork, a familiar mop of curly hair peeked through kitchen door.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, his voice still groggy. Steve smiled to himself. He was nothing if not consistent. Not wanting to spook him by being too forthcoming, Steve stirred the sauce a few more times, then turned to face the guy fully and opted for one of his warmer smiles, as he said, “Hi.”

In his sleep-addled state, he didn’t seem to suspect that anything was out of the ordinary. Steve watched him go through his usual routine of dumping a bunch of cereal into a bowl and retrieving the milk from the fridge. He sat down at the opposite side of the dining table, facing Steve, and moved to pour the milk over his cereal. Steve couldn’t, in good conscience, let him ruin a perfectly good bowl of cereal if he decided to accept his offer (he was decidedly not getting ahead of himself just there), so he figured now was as good a time as any to speak up.

“You do realise you can’t keep eating cereal every day for the next three weeks, right?” Steve said, making sure to keep his tone light and playful. The last thing he wanted was for the guy to think he was judging his eating habits. He set the timer for the spaghetti, then leaned against the counter next to the stove and crossed his arms. Across from him, the poor guy seemed to have stopped dead in his tracks, still holding his milk at an angle. Confusion was clearly written all over his face, as he grappled with the fact that Steve had just addressed him directly. He looked up at Steve from beneath his messy fringe, big brown eyes slowly traveling upward until they were level with Steve’s, unsure whether he was allowed to look or not. It crossed Steve’s mind that he looked every bit like a frightened young deer, and he had to mentally stop himself from letting out a laugh.

“Umm… sorry?” His eyes darted confusedly between Steve and the offending bowl of cereal in front of him. “I didn’t realise there were rules about this stuff,” he said, though his tone wasn’t defensive. His voice was soft and shy, almost apologetic, and Steve immediately regretted his choice of words.

“No, shit… Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve chuckled, desperately trying to salvage the longest conversation he’d had in days. “It’s just that, well, I can see you obviously really enjoy those,” he quickly motioned to the box of Cheerios on the table, “and, I mean, not to yuck your yum, but they really don’t make for the most nutritious meal. Wouldn’t want the rest of this dorm to come back to the smell of a rotting corpse because you, like, dropped dead of malnutrition or something, you know?” Oh god, what was he even saying?! Nice, Harrington, real nice. Idiot.

Too busy chastising himself for the word vomit he’d just unleashed on this random dude, Steve registered somewhat belatedly that the guy was now laughing, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Steve couldn’t help the expression of pleasant surprise creeping onto his face, as he watched the other man come down from his fit of laugher. He was now beaming at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how he had one of those smiles that light up a person’s entire face.

“Well, it does sound kind of grim when you put it like that, but what can I say?” He plucked a single Cheerio from the bowl and held it up close to his face, as if to examine it. “What you sacrifice on nutrition, you save on money.” Then, with a quick flick of the wrist, he tossed the Cheerio into the air, caught it in his mouth, and flashed Steve a triumphant grin. Steve chuckled, giving him a quick round of applause, to which the guy responded with an exaggerated bow. And if Steve found himself somewhat surprised at how quickly he was warming up to his new roommate, nobody needed to know.

Despite the cheerful nature of the encounter so far, Steve couldn’t help but feel a little guilty after hearing the guy explain his peculiar diet. Here he was with half the grocery store at his disposal, while, across from him, sat a guy forced to live on the same kind of cereal, meal after meal, for the sake of being frugal. He could imagine how difficult it must be to feed yourself on a budget when you don’t have the knowledge or skills to cook in the first place. The sound of his timer jolted Steve out of his thoughts, and he turned back to the stove to check if the spaghetti were cooked. He manoeuvred a single piece of pasta out of the water, blew on it a couple of times, grabbed it with his thumb and index finger, then tipped his head back and lowered it into his open mouth, blissfully unaware of a pair of brown eyes trying their best to look at anything other than Steve. After giving them a few more stirs, he strained the spaghetti in the kitchen sink, then paused for a moment, pretending to deliberate, the guy’s gaze still fixed on him. Before he could overthink it, he turned to face him again.

“Listen, you can totally say no if you want, but I think just made way too much spaghetti for one person. Would you like some?” He heard the guy take a breath, preparing to say something, then remembered. “Oh, and I have this sauce too, by the way,” he quickly added, taking the pot with the sauce off the stove and bringing it towards the other man. Steve tipped the pot slightly, trying to show him what’s inside, nearly causing a bulk of it to spill over the edge. He then realised the contents in the pot were essentially liquid and he probably shouldn’t have been doing that, which prompted him to a curse under his breath and carefully set the pot back on the stove. The guy, clearly amused by the whole display, just giggled and Steve had to take that as a win, even if he ended up rejecting his offer of a warm meal. To his credit, the guy seemed to weigh the idea carefully for a moment. All of a sudden, it looked like something clicked in his brain, and he offered Steve a lopsided smile.

“Well, then, if there really is sauce involved, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.”

It took Steve a little while to register that he was, in fact, not being rejected, but as soon as he did, he couldn't help the way his face lit up, not caring anymore if he came across as overeager. He snapped his fingers and made finger guns at the guy, clearly high on some kind of playful energy the exchange had incited in him.

“Alrighty then,” he said cheerfully, turning to plate their meal, trying his best to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest as he looked down at the result. Two plates.

Steve carried both plates and some cutlery to the table, setting one plate in front of his guest, who followed the motion with fervent fixation. He thought the guy might actually start drooling if he didn’t get to dig into his meal soon. As Steve plopped into the chair across from him, though, he was struck with the realisation that they were about to have their first meal together, yet didn’t even know each other’s names. He cleared his throat and extended his hand towards the stranger.

“Oh, sorry—I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington.”

His companion broke out of his daze, beaming fondly at Steve as he firmly grasped the offered hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Steve Harrington. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

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Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it ☺️ Just fyi, I don't have this whole thing written yet, so I'll be posting it in parts here, on Tumblr, until I do, and then once it's been edited a bit and given a title, I'll probably put it up on ao3 as a longer oneshot. I'll make sure to reblog with the first part every time I post a new one, and I'll also link all the previous parts, so don't worry! It's gonna be so so cute and I'm so excited to share this story with you guys. Check in to see what the boys will get up to next!

[willwoodshipsbyler]

eeehehehehehe. happy halloween 👻👻

byler as beetlejuice because yes. the movie came out in march of 88(I think) so these are their halloween costumes for that year :)))))

this is for the trick or treat prompt for day 6 of bylerween!!!!!

closeups!!

[steviestits]

My God Longs For Me - Part 1.3

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E for later chapters) Summary: When Steve was a child, he was abducted and brought to the cult, the Hellfire Club, as he was prophesied to be the wife of the dark forest god they worshiped. Steve enjoyed his time there, especially the time he spent with the cult leader's nephew, Eddie. This wasn't meant to last however as Steve was eventually returned to his parents. Thanks to the deprogrammer that his parents hired and time, Steve has mostly forgotten the cult that raised him. That is until he goes on a camping trip and his friends start to get murdered one by one with the only connection between the killings being the ritual offerings to the cult's gods and the strange dreams Steve has before each one. Now Steve must piece together his past to discover who is murdering his friends in the present. (Inspired heavily by various horror movies and is a horror story itself.) Trigger Warning: None Eventual Trigger Warning: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ritual Sacrifices, Gore, Mpreg, Body Horror, Monster Fucking, Feminization, Brainwashing

(Link to previous part)

Entering the bar, Steve looked around at the shabby wooden walls and cracked floorboards until his eyes landed on Billy and Tommy drunkenly playing pool. Steve tried to catch their eye and even called out to them, but they ignored him. The pool tables were situated on the furthest wall away from the bar, thankfully, but it did have a dingy yet still functional mirror hung up between the bottled of high-shelf (for this establishment anyway) alcohol, so there was no way they couldn’t see him no matter the angle. He took this to mean that they were actively ignoring him, and he honestly wished his dad had selected better friends for him.

“What a bunch of mouth-breathers,” the bartender said with a disappointed shake of his head.

Objectively good-looking, the bartender had long, dark brown curls that cascaded down his back, framing his lean face to make his chocolate brown eyes pop. A tight t-shirt with the logo of a band that Steve didn’t recognize was stretched across the man’s lean body, displaying every single one of his compact muscles. He wasn’t a name tag, but it wasn’t as Steve needed the other’s name as they wouldn’t be staying much longer in the bar anyway.

Steve strode over to the bar, leaning against the wooden counter with one elbow. The other man didn’t seem to mind and instead grabbed a rag to begin cleaning a few shot glasses in front of him. He didn’t say anything but continued to keep an eye on Billy and Tommy, glowering sourly at the pair as if expecting them to cause trouble.

“If they break anything, I’ll pay for it,” Steve offered sincerely.

“Why are you even friends with them? If you don’t mind me asking, because they seem like more trouble than they’re worth.”

“My dad picked them out for me, believe it or not. It’d be good for the company, is what he said. Improve our investments.”

“Your daddy picked them out? Seriously?” The bartender snorted. “Starting to think those ids they showed me were fake. Aren’t you all grown men?”

“Listen, man, I know. But you don’t know my dad. He can make your life a living Hell if he really sets his mind to it. Easier to just do what he asks.”

“You do something to piss him off then? Only reason I can think of that he’d let you and your friends camp out in these cursed woods.”

“He didn’t pick the location. My friend did. But what do you mean by cursed?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “You’re going camping out there, and you don’t even know the story of Hawkins Woods?”

“It’s not like it matters. Curses aren’t real.”

 “Isn’t that what everyone in a horror movie says right before they’re killed by the curse they were warned about?”

“That’s in the movies. This is real life.”

With a chuckle, the bartender asked, “Isn’t that what they say in the movies too, though?”

“Fine. Fair enough,” Steve relented. “What’s the story behind Hawkins Woods?”

“Well, you see, it started a few decades ago when the Hellfire Club built a commune just a few miles from here. People began disappearing when they went into the woods, and the ones that didn’t swore that they’d seen a horned being right out of the corner of their eye. They said it was the pagan god that the cult worshiped. Well, the police eventually cracked down on Hellfire, broke the whole thing up, but it only got worse. Instead of disappearances, people were dying, bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Thus, everyone in these parts believe that the Hellfire Club put a curse on these woods and that their god still walks between the trees.”

Frowning, Steve turned the story over in his head. He didn’t remember everything about the Hellfire Club, but he hadn’t thought that they were anywhere close to its location, especially since his dad wouldn’t have wanted to be within the cult’s reach, meaning he would’ve said something if the area was too close. On the other hand, the bartender had no reason to lie to him. What did the man have to gain by making him believe the cult was nearby? He guessed it could be a prank, but it wasn’t a funny one if it was.

“Listen, great story, but that’s all it is, a story.” Steve pushed himself away from the counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go collect my friends.”

“What friends?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but he looked up to see that the mirror no longer reflect Billy and Tommy. Glancing over his shoulder confirmed to Steve that they weren’t there anymore, which didn’t make sense. Even if they didn’t tell him they were leaving, he thought that he would’ve at least heard them since the two were never the quite type of drunks. He didn’t feel panicked, though. In fact, he actually felt relieved.

Billy was an asshole, and Tommy always sided with him since the jerk muscled his way into their group. Steve’s dad said that Billy was “assertive” and had a ruthlessness to him that he said Steve lacked, which was why he didn’t have a nose for business like the others. The comparison always irked Steve since he didn’t see how screwing people over or bullying them made someone a good business partner.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Who needs them?”

Hearing the bartender speak, Steve returned his attention to him only to find that his form was now twisting, growing larger until he was eerily looming over Steve. Branched, deer-like antlers crept out from underneath the other man’s curly hair while his clothes changed into robes that seemed to be made out of shadows. Then, through the darkness, a deathly pale hand nestled against Steve’s cheek, caressing it while he forced Steve to stare up into his fully black eyes.

It was then that Steve realized what was going on, and he leaned into the touch before he breathlessly whispered, “Eddie.”

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 1.4

[felixir-of-moths]

CC Fest | May Mayhem Bingo 3/5

We admitted we were powerless (AO3)

@corrodedcoffinfest | Prompt : Sold His Soul for a Donut

A huge thanks to two amazing beta and sensitive readers, Vara & Frenchie!

Rated: T | wc: 1,805 | time read: 7min Relationships: Chrissy&Freak, Eddie&Freak | CW: eating disorders, addictions | Tags: AU modern setting, 12 steps program, eating disorder, Chrissy needs a Hug, Freak is a Sweetheart, Eddie is a Little Shit,

Summary:

Doug had run some eating disorder anonymous meetings for a while now. He meets a young Chrissy Cunningham.

🍩☕ 🚬

The AA group left their donuts again. Sometimes, Doug wonders if they’re doing it on purpose. If he was using the room before the AA meeting and left alcohol on the tables, he would never hear the end of it. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he tucks as much glazed temptation as he can in a plastic bag before closing it tightly. He doesn’t throw it in the room’s bin - he knows better - and slams the fire exit door open to storm outside. Eddie is leaning on a wall, smoking. Doug doesn’t even look at him, and walks straight to the huge garbage bin to dispose of the dangerous items. There are pink and blue sprinkles on his fingers - he brushes them quickly against his jeans.

“’Sup, Douggie?” Eddie says between two lazy drags, eyes lost somewhere in the distance. Doug huffs, and stomps back to the fire exit left open, determined to not answer and just go back to clean the room before anybody else from EDA shows up. Doug told Eddie several times to be careful about this. He didn’t ask him to understand, just to me mindful, to show some fucking respect.

read the rest on AO3 !

[runninguplenorahills]

I didn't care much how long I lived

[skadream]

the absolute worst is the 50k mid fic suddenly having untagged Extremely Common Trigger just like. smack in the middle for no reason. couldnt find a natural way to make the fic interesting so lets just throw in some drug addiction why not

[transautisticmikewheeler]

thinking of giving mike a real dream/nightmare i've had. it's genuinely one of the only 4 i've had my entire life.

endless hospital hallways, your body feels drugged but your mind is perfectly clear, even if you can't really open your eyes, the people around you are faceless and you can't look too close anyways because your brain either won't let you or there's literally nothing there, not even a head at all. almost like they're stuck in the corners of your vision.

all the words you can hear are garbled and nonsensical except "be calm" or "calm down" but you can't even panic because your body won't let you, your heart rate doesn't even change, and you keep going down this hallway in a hospital bed. it's just dread, but it's also just a hallway.

you pass room after room, hearing hospital sounds and you can't stop thinking about how you can't even react, that's your only clear thought, but they keep talking like that and you keep moving and there's the nurse's station again and again who knows how far apart because you can't really think and you can't figure out what's going on at all but you can't get scared, it's impossible, your eyes keep closing, your body feeling like it's shutting down on you

and then you're awake.

[steviestits]

yes totally down for warlock Eddie making his partner more compatible with him. So prompt 2: Eddie and Steve grew up in maybe a kind of cult, and as children were best friends who were promised to each other by the leader, and said to be the next leaders themselves, till people came in and destroyed the cult and took Steve away, im kind of seeing Eddie being the son of maybe Wayne being the leader. so years later Eddie comes for him but Steve has been taught the cult was evil. 1/2

2/2 just really into the very innocent childhood loves that Steve and Eddie had growing up, like thinking its so great I get to marry my best friend. till he's taken away and made to live with the Harringtons who make him cut his long hair and force him to wear stiff clothes and tell him that the members of his community were crazy and evil. while Eddie who I imagine a few years older has been rebuilding and now wants his other half to fulfil the promise they made.

Prompt Discussion 1 ~ Prompt Discussion 2 ~ Prompt Discussion 3

My God Longs For Me Masterpost

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: E Summary: When Steve was a child, he was abducted and brought to the cult, the Hellfire Club, as he was prophesied to be the wife of the dark forest god they worshiped. Steve enjoyed his time there, especially the time he spent with the cult leader's nephew, Eddie. This wasn't meant to last however as Steve was eventually returned to his parents. Thanks to the deprogrammer that his parents hired and time, Steve has mostly forgotten the cult that raised him. That is until he goes on a camping trip and his friends start to get murdered one by one with the only connection between the killings being the ritual offerings to the cult's gods and the strange dreams Steve has before each one. Now Steve must piece together his past to discover who is murdering his friends in the present. (Inspired heavily by various horror movies and is a horror story itself.) Trigger Warning: Child Abuse, Feminization, Brainwashing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ritual Sacrifices, Gore, Mpreg, Body Horror, Monster Fucking Ao3 Link: (Coming after first chapter is finished) Additional Notes: Thanks to @deadchosenking for the fic's title

Chapter List

Beginnings - Part 1.1

Beginnings - Part 1.2

Beginnings - Part 1.3

Beginnings - Part 1.4

Beginnings - Part 1.5

[felixir-of-moths]

🍩

🍩Doug as an EDA sponsor!

TW: this story talks openly about eating disorders. The rating is T though, and it's sweet, I promise.

“Is this the moment where I have to admit I’m powerless?” she lilts, and Doug chuckles. “The meeting hasn’t start yet, don’t try to earn early points” he jokes. “Oh, there are points?” the girl says as her smile fades as quickly as it came. “Am I losing some?” “No - no !” Doug backs up, “It’s a joke. There are no points, I was… just trying to make you laugh,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “You’re doing great.” Doug grabs another trash bag and starts to throw everything away, careful to not move too quickly, like the girl could run away at the slightest sudden movement. “I’m Doug,” he says with a warm smile. “You don’t have to say your name if you don’t want to.” “I don’t?” the girl asks in surprise. “Anonymous just means no last name, or no sensible information that could identify yourself” Doug explains. “You can be Princess Buttercup or any alias you fancy, honestly.”

[gayofthefae]

I'm extremely sensitive to vocal tone (not only when harsh) would anyone be willing to transcribe Noah's apology for me? I wanna know what he said but I don't wanna watch it because of that.

here is the transcription(thank you<3)

[avese23]

Can’t deal with people who act all personally aggrieved that they can’t personalize the entire internet to their personal happy place. Especially people who then go out looking for things to get mad at

(This isn’t about people venting about trolls or harassment. It sucks. I’m sorry. Fuck bullies and bigots. This also isn’t about flash warnings, and anything that keeps people with epilepsy safe)

But like, it’s not other people’s job to read your mind and guess what hyperspecific trigger you have then manually tag everything for one person. I’ve seen people ask creators to tag images with the character their blog is about. Just block the blog. That’s not a safe blog for you.

It’s not other people’s job to explain that fucked up shit in fiction is not real. You’re not a child and we’re not your parents here to hold your hand and reassure you that the actor is only playing dead.

I think a good example of effective content warnings is Hazbin. They’re not gonna put one up every individual episode to tell you a show full of swearing and gore is gonna have swearing and gore. But episode 4 is more graphic than any other episode so it’s given a separate warning. Because someone signing up for the rest of the episodes might genuinely be taken aback by that one.

Or Hashtag Ruthless Productions always putting heavy topics in their politics section. Asking for a warning every episode would be silly when you can just skip the politics section. You know it’s gonna be venting and politics. So don’t be surprised when it’s about politics. But if they talk about dark topics that aren’t typically brought up in that fandom they do give warning. For instance most people wouldn’t expect a discussion about eating disorders when the hosts talk about the cult in Wayward Son. Or a spoiler for Star Trek in a podcast about Buffy. So *then* it makes sense.

It’s social kindness and being stewardess to recognize when you as a creator are putting out something unexpectedly and objectively shocking to people who didn’t consent to it. It’s not other people’s job however, to use common sense for you. Or to read your mind. Don’t click on a video about a movie and get mad at spoilers for that mobile. Don’t read the Bible and get mad about major character death (Christian’s don’t come after me with a ‘well actually’ I haven’t read it 😭)

Speaking of Christianity if you’re someone who gets mad at Christian’s being upset by goths wearing crosses (which is silly) but then get upset by what people are writing about your blorbos on ao3 you might wanna do some soul searching.

So no I don’t care about your DNI list. No I don’t care that you only want virgos to reblog your post about Home Depot. No I don’t care that you can’t tell the difference between an anime character and a person, between real life and a plot point, between internet drama and an actual crime. I find that dude from Friends ugly af to that point I cringe but I’m not gonna go harass fandom accounts or look up every bad thing the characters done and accuse blogs of being bad people. I don’t like a lot of ATLA ships and think both Zutara and Kataang are morally gross af but I’m not gonna say the writers or the fans are sympathizing with pedophilia or abuse. Cuz that’s ridiculous.

When I publish works I’m gonna make it clear what kind of story it is. And then I’m gonna step back and tell the fucking story. I’m not gonna pop up every other chapter to warn people that a gay character calls another gay character a fag affectionately. Or a character in a toxic relationship *shocker* is having a bad time. I’m not gonna tell people that the horror work has gore and a jump scare. It’s horror.

Cuz I’m not gonna infantilize my audience and trust that they can set their own boundaries when it comes to stories they want to consume. No one is forcing them.

Media isn’t sex you don’t have to check in with every escalation. Entertainment isn’t your textbook, Phillip Schuyler is allowed to have no sons. A character isn’t your child they’re allowed to wear what they want and go on dangerous ass quests.

It’s frustrating being told to choose between assholes who project their own privilege onto others and assholes who project their own trauma onto others. Nuance exists.

Now block me dear lord, you’re doing the inventor of the block button a disservice when you get off on being pissed off