#the run and go fic

[desertsfic]

29 please!! Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to)

(for the Bored Writer Ask Game)

Hello, sorry! I was out all day yesterday and then came home and immediately passed out!

I had to pull out my computer for this and it's a little long and not edited so forgive me, but I think this is a scene from chapter ??? 48?? of rng?? it's been awhile since I looked at my deleted scenes folder but I am the kind of person who never deletes anything, I just stuff it into a corner and never look at it again haha!

This is a scenee between Bro and Mom, which changed a lot and definitely got shortened up but here is some old deserts nonsense behind a big read more:

“Sorry,” you say again, but it feels mechanical, and like she won’t really believe you. “Back when I first got Rose I wasn’t in a good place Dirk.” She folds her arms over her knees. “I'd been babysitting drunk for years and I thought ‘it's not that hard, it won't be so bad’. I had no idea what I was doing. I just wanted to be – to be better than Hass. I didn't want to let them grow up in a dirty cluttered house that didn't look cared for, and I wanted there to always be food in the fridge. I wanted it to be the kind of place that looked like home but I—" She tears up and you let her. “But I didn't know how to cook, and I still don't, and I knew the drinking was bad but in my mind it didn't matter. It didn’t matter because eventually Rose wouldn't need me anymore an’ I wasn't even sure how far we'd make it in the game or if they'd even win at all.” You don’t touch her, though you know she’d probably prefer you did. “I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I suppose I didn't think it was affecting me nearly as bad as perhaps it might have been? In my mind, I was still getting  her an education, I still cleaned the house, I worked, I...” She wilts. “But I was wrong. It was wrong of me, to live like that. So reckless, and with a child in the home?” She laughs, but there’s no mirth in it. “Christ, I could have killed her.” You give a bitter smile and she returns it, watery and wavering at the corners. “We're quite the pair, aren't we.” “I don't think it's worth comparing yourself to me,” you say. “You're a good person Rox. Who's made a few mistakes. That's alright. You're allowed a second chance.” She sniffles. There was a point in time where you were just a stupid kid. Both of you, and she was the only other person you ever truly thought of as a friend. "It's good to be here with you," you say, because you can't say the right words. Roxy, for all her faults, and for all of yours, knows you well enough to parse the space between. She takes your face in her hands and you let her, because Roxy's got hands for fighting, rough on the pads and thick in the knuckles, but she would never truly hurt you, and you can trust her more than anyone else you've ever known. "I love you too, Dirk, you complete fool."

[simmonsized]

Okay, I was going to write something about how I was happy about how you approached the subject matter with Bro and Dave in TRaG

But

My mind suddenly remembered what their sprites freaking look like.

I think about Bro Strider a lot (along with the complexity of the other characters) and then *boom*, I remember what he looks like in the comic.

Damn you fanart!!!!

TBH i was just showing my friend some of the homestuck pages to be like "look do u see do u see" and of course they're just like. their dumb big heads and lil bodies but somehow that just makes it all the better bc i know sO many people who are like "I couldn't get into homestuck because nothing happens" and i'm like yes but nothing happens in a SATISFYING way anyway their sprites are dumb but i still love them

ALSO: you were "going to write something" but you have already said enough to set me on my path here we are grab my hand welcome to nam etc etc etc

This really only encompasses Dave the God's relationship with Bro but like. It'd be too long to talk about Dave the Used to Be Sprite so! Forgive me.

WARNING: this post is 2000 words, I cannot and will not cut it shorter. If it's killing your dash, I'm begging you, mute me, or block the post.

Here we go!

Okay, so the thing is, when it comes to Bro, I have a really complicated history with him. Because obviously for YEARS he was the fandom darling, and we all kinda brushed off the fuckin' training and shit because that's just like, anime hullabaloo, the concept that he was preparing Dave for the game, but then also, when you take a step back and look at it, it's not like Dave KNEW there was a game at all??? and like. okay so just straight up right now i'm saying this FUCK hussie but these particular notes in book 2 of homestuck

kinda really changed things about the way we look at Bro as a person, as well as Dave's conversation with Dirk, though that comes along later. No comment on that line about Bro apparently """training""" Dave to take on the final boss. Because. Well. Lmfao. (Notes above are from Beatdown Rounds 1 and 2 in book 2 of Homestuck)

Enter: Dirk and Dave's conversation, basically the beginning of my insane deep dive into all things Strider, and dealing openly with abuse, past abuse, and recovery from that abuse.

obviously I cannot post the whole convo, it's easier for people to just read it BUT some highlights for context:

The start of it for me of course was "and he's dead now so that's that"

which is like. Kind of how it actually is when you have a parent (or insane older brother who is actually your parent) who dies but you're unable to EVER discuss your relationship with them or even confront them on all the horrible shit that went down, if you ever get to that point at all.

And because Bro was like, basically a giant fucking deadzone of just. Nothingness in terms of Dave's brain, when it came to any kind of positive emotion, it just??? Man that's one of the most interesting things about their relationship to me. Dave says "i think he hated me" but it really feels like, from their conversation, the fact that Bro did not express any kind of emotion at ALL led to what Dave felt must be fucking LOATHING. Man. I feel terrible for typing "and i find that fascinating" but i do so. lol

Insert "violent robot" comment here lol

also i know people have Opinions about Bro and his smuppets but tbh I don't want to fucking hear them when Dave was running around with a tiny smuppet butt walkytalky on his fucking wrist and also, when Dirk, mr "They're a funny little critter of your own design" Strider is sitting right fucking there so. Anyway that's all u need to know about that.

okay i lied i'm posting like the whole conversation i realize that u know but it's just

man it's right there lol

i LOVE that Dave associates Bro with the concept of heroism and being a savior of some kind, because in truth, it is likely that beneath all the bullshit, and even in line with the fear, there is a good chance Dave did admire Bro, to a point, until he had time to sit back and realize, "hey, what the FUCK was up with my childhood??? and wait, this isn't actually funny at ALL."

What's (not) funny to me is that, I don't much think of Bro as the kind of person who saw himself as a hero at all, and I say as much in RNG, but for him, and yes, this is a fucked up thing to say, I see it as: he saw raising Dave as A Job He Needed To Do, and everything in between Didn't Matter. We'll get more into this and the Dirkesian aspects of Dave's upbringing, even without Lil Cal, if anyone ever asks me about my genuine honest to god Bro Strider Personality Discourse but like. Basically dude's hells of about efficiency, and this is evidenced in the way that Dirk tends to push his friends, sometimes past the point of their personal comfort levels, in order to achieve a goal. I hardly feel like I'm reaching here.

And you know it does matter to me, that even though he is saying this to Dirk, he still says, "I didn't like you very much" because it's SUCH a thing with complicated relationships, it's SO much ingrained in our upbringings to love our parents, even if they completely fuck us up, irreparably. Am I saying that you HAVE to love your abusive parent??? dude FUCK no like, everyone's situation is different and there are always going to scenarios where broaching the subject is impossible, or something you don't want to do but

Well. It's my fucking fic and my take so! I have decided we're doing it, we're making it happen etc

Enter: Lil Cal and the potential for?????? Whatever was going on there

Obviously in RNG we take Lil Cal and Caliborn's tendency towards disgust for any kind of positive emotion, platonic or otherwise, and like, ok not to shit on caliborn i know that guy is just a little kid but lil cal is like, basically intended to be representative of Bad Things in the homestuck world so it's like. That's where we're at u know. Gestures above where it says "theoretically the most evil doll to exist in any universe ever" And u know yes this doll also had AR inside it, as well as Equius so???????? Fucking dude who KNOWS what's goin on with lil cal. Nothing good?????? Anyway

So then now that we have all this context, we take Dirk Strider, and we isolate him even further than previously thought possible, we give him the "theoretically most evil doll to exist in any universe ever," we wind him up, we watch him go.

That creates a baseline for my own personal little Bro guy which is "Dirk Strider with a Singular Purpose" and whose purpose was only to "Raise Your Player to Survive The Game" with a side of, man part of Dirk's still gotta be in there because holy fuck does this guy LOVE PUPPETS. which is fine u know. puppets i mean. muppet references. wow.

Bro Thoughts, Bro in Relation to Dirk, etc. U know how it be.

OKAY SO: starting with "It doesn't change my past or how I feel about him.... and I'm sure that's the only feeling I'll ever have about him."

For me, this is an easy thing to say when this person is dead. It's exTREMELY EASY to say when you will never see this person again, or have a confrontation with them, or even have to like, address it in regards to an interaction that hides your true feelings but you know, deep down, that they hurt you.

Basically, homestuck ended, I'm happy Dirk and Dave met in the middle with something like Understanding and Solidarity, but I just. Was so angry about Davesprite. And also wanted to get all up in the relationship between the Daves and Bro SO, SO SOSOSOSOSOOO BAD.

So then I did!

And basically, along with being a guy with no purpose, who, for all intents and purposes, would literally rather be dead, it's super interesting because like. Bro is Dirk, and I know people vary on mind control versus influence, but I like to lean into the concept of some kind of Influence, or PUSH but also that Bro was very much in control of his actions, and knew, to a point, that he was doing what he was doing. I just genuinely don't think he believed it was wrong, or if he did KNOW it was wrong, he was not going to stop, because at the end of the day, he was seeing results. Is that cruel??? yes. Is it cruel to both of them???????? hell yes. But efficiency and work and results are the baseline for a successful session, and that's uh.

I think of Bro as a man of just like. Pantshittingly terrifying Control, a dude who not only cares about results from Dave, but from himself, and whether that's Cal or Dirk talking, who really knows!

think all the time about the time Hussie said that Bro has never slashed Dave with his sword. I know the fandom doesn't mention it much lol but it's always on my mind. No, punching and kicking your teenage bro-son is not better. But it's fascinating, that that's where he chose to draw the line.

Perhaps because as they said, sword strikes tend to end in people's deaths. Hmm.

Anyway since the Thesis of RNG is based around Reconciliation, but not necessarily forgiveness, at least not as an outright stated thing, we see a lot of just. Talking in circles, circling the drain, over and over. Naval gazing, I love it. Can you tell???

The thing with past abuse, about loving a parent who hurts you, is that you can still love them, after they hurt you, and You do not Have to Forgive them, but you can still love this person, and you can see hope to and seek change. You can still want a relationship with this person.

It's important to me that Bro seeks forgiveness. It is not Dave's (either of them) job to forgive him. There is a reason that (spoilers sorry) Bro says sorry in chapter like, fucking 14, but the fic keeps going anyway. "Sorry" is the beginning. "Sorry" is the start on a path towards better things.

Along with all this is Bro learning to be a person who no longer has a job to do. He's learning to be Dirk Strider again, something he hasn't really reckoned with since he was maybe, what, 13 years old?? His entire life has been dedicated to serving The Timeline, while not necessarily even being connected to his own aspect, at least not in a healthy way, and like. Once again this is not a Post About Bro Strider but bro in context of Bro and Dave so u know, but I do, again, see the guardians as the worst reflections of the kids themselves, and that goes fucking quadruple for Bro! He is the fucked up heart guy who severs connections and is tied up with strings, it is him.

On top of recovering personhood, though, he is also reconciling with (two of the same) a kid he not only abused, but potentially never loved, at least not in a way that makes sense to Dave, or sometimes to the reader. There is resentment, and there is frustration, and there is something to it, losing your own life at the expense of raising a kid. Yes, it's a comic about a video game, but I'm writing a fanfiction, and there is definitely something like overlap, in ineptitude and parenting from a young age. I still believe they had good memories, examples we see in the text where Dave talks about how he and bro had rap battles that were just throwing shit at each other's heads with their sylladices (dangerous) and like, building forts and shit. There is still softness, in the places in between.

But there was cruelty, too, and that's obviously the forefront of the whole situation, and it's so important for Dave to be brave enough to call his Bro out, to demand change, and it's important that Bro WANTS to connect with him, even if he doesn't know how. Even if he's so fucking shitty and sucks SO much.

Obviously a lot of what we learn is from Dave's perspective, and a lot of that comes at the marvel of, wow my Bro is back, and the concept of like, the Ultimate Reward being what the players wanted, and in RNG canon (fake) basically the kids just wanted to fucking. go home lol. John at least definitely deserves to have his dad back!

But Dave's (both daves) not just a little kid anymore, he's had 3 years of development and change and growth, and he has a way of looking at the world that differs vastly from how he grew up. Bro, someone he never knew but felt he knew, and then lost and didn't know all over again, is suddenly a Big Unknown, and that's??? fucking scary! Trying to reconcile with a person you love and fear is one thing, but doing that when you're learning you barely know them as a person at all, particularly because they were like, Just Your Guardian and you'd only known them from the shitty little kid perspective?? makes it tough. It's easy to say "i wish you were dead" it's hard to admit "I don't wish you were dead, I just wish you were better" and! That's kind of where we start lol

RNG has a lot of "three steps forward, two steps back" and as much as that frustrates people (and trust me, I see the comments, I know lol), that's just the way life is sometimes. They're on a set path, and Bro has to fucking learn not only his lesson, but that he can't just change because Dave(s) wants him to change. He has to change because HE wants to change, too.

[insufferablemod]

You watch him hem and haw over answering, feet shifting, same beat up black shoes, scuffing the gravel, cape swishing behind him in a one-two step. The halo of his hair, bleached eery white in the street lamp, how the light never seems to catch the rim of his shades. You missed this, you think. The bits of him that are so unsettlingly inhuman, how he's so close to you, but just far enough that you couldn't reach to touch. - Metempsychosis

[atlabeth]

a rose and her thorns | luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!daughter of aphrodite reader

summary: luke vies for a valentine. you're just trying to get through cabin inspections.

a/n: take this as my formal apology for the angst i’ve been throwing at you all with demeter girl lol and take this tooth rotting fluff. this was supposed to be shorter but i got carried away, after writing that 11k angst riddled monster this was a much needed palate cleanser lmao

wc: 3.3k

warning(s): no warnings this is all fluff <3

You huffed as you knocked on the door again, chewing on the inside of your lip as you waited for a response. The Hermes cabin usually always had kids in it—either they were ignoring you, or they were just causing too much ruckus to even hear it in the first place.

Honestly, you should have known this was how cabin inspections with Luke would go. He was probably in there right now, ushering all of them through rapid last-minute tidying in the hopes of something higher than a one. You had half a mind to knock a point off right now by virtue of tardiness.  

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up all of a sudden, and you whirled around. 

“Speak of the devil,” you said wryly. 

You were greeted with Luke Castellan himself, his hands up with a slight smile on his lips. “Easy. I didn’t think I looked that bad.” 

Your brows creased ever so slightly, and he gestured with head. You looked down and realized you were holding your pen like a sword. You cleared your throat and let your arm drop, adjusting your shirt on the way down. 

“Sorry. People tend not to sneak up on me.” 

“I can’t imagine why.” Luke put his hands down and started towards his cabin, craning his head back at you. “What brings you here on this fine day, Rose?” 

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” you pouted, holding up your clipboard and pen as you followed him. “We’re on inspection duty together. Where were you?” 

He snapped and pointed at you. “That’s what we were doing together today! I knew we were spending time together—not like I could forget that—but,” his hand paused on the doorknob, “I kind of forgot about the cabin inspection part. Had to spend a little extra time with one of your siblings at the end of sword-fighting lessons.” 

“Sounds like Liz is getting better, then.” A smug smile pulled at your lips as you stopped next to him. “And it sounds like someone’s gonna be cleaning the dishes tonight,” you said in a sing-song voice. 

You placed your hand over his and opened the door, and Luke groaned. “Take mercy, Rose. Please.” 

It was certainly a sight—more akin to a tornado than the inside of a cabin. Various kids—Hermes, unclaimed, and minor gods alike—ran around, shoving dirty clothes beneath beds, cramming duffles and suitcases into overflowing closets, with a few noble exceptions attempting the Sisyphean task of actually cleaning. 

“Wow,” you said, glancing down at the papyrus scroll. “Can I give you a zero?” 

“Listen,” Luke said from behind you, “our thing isn’t tidiness. It’s thievery—swiftness, cunning, panache.” 

“I thought you were supposed to be jacks of all trades,” you mused as you checked off boxes. “Cleaning is a trade.” 

“Not here.” You could feel him peering over your shoulder and he groaned yet again. “Come on! You’re grading us way too low. I get input too, remember?” 

“Sure,” you remarked. You held out the clipboard and gestured with your head at the natural disaster in front of you. “But you can’t tell me this is anything better than a two.” 

“A two’s better than a one.” Luke plucked the pen out of your hand and scrawled out a number two on the final line. 

“Luke—” you started in protest, but he just snatched the clipboard as well with a wink as he started walking backwards towards the door. 

“We’ve got a chance, guys!” he called out. “Hephaestus has gotta be worse than this!” 

You huffed as you chased after him, shutting the door on your way, and you crossed your arms as you came to a stop in front of him. “This isn’t very cooperative of you.” 

“Gotta give myself a chance,” Luke said, smiling as he took the Hermes sheet off the clipboard and stuffed it into his pocket. 

“That’s just cheating,” you said, and he let you take the clipboard back from him. You started walking, and he fell into pace with you. “Hephaestus is next—we’ll see how much of a chance you have.” 

“We should get some slack because we’ve got double the campers,” Luke said. “Nine’s got no excuse—they’re just a bunch of messy engineers.” 

You tapped your pen against the board. “I’m not changing my mind, Castellan.” 

“Ouch,” he winced. “I got last name’d.” 

You merely smiled and shook your head. You could see his own smile in your peripherals, then he huffed.  

“You’re distracting me from my whole plan with these ridiculous grades,” Luke sighed. “I haven’t ruined everything, have I?”

“You’ve got a plan?” you asked in amusement. 

“Of course I do.” Luke took a few long strides to get in front of you then turned around so he was walking backwards, that stupid smirk still on his lips as he kept eye contact with you. “Valentine’s Day is coming up.” 

“You’re very observant,” you said. “Watch your six.” 

Luke moved a step towards you to avoid a younger camper with their head buried in a book, and you chuckled as he shrugged. 

“It’s a work in progress,” he admitted. 

You hummed, biting back your smile as you came up to the Hephaestus cabin. You were about to knock on the door, but once again, Luke caught your wrist. 

“You’re not even gonna let me say my piece?” he asked. 

“I’ll give you a little time to polish it up,” you said. 

“You assume I don’t have it prepared already?” 

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” You winked. “But I know the effect I have on you.” 

Luke’s fingers loosened on your wrist and you allowed a small, self-satisfied smile as you pulled free and knocked on the door. It took a couple seconds, but eventually the door opened and their counselor—Alya, if you remembered correctly—greeted you with a smile. 

“Just in time,” she said, smudging the bit of grease on her face as she wiped at her cheek. “We’re actually not horrible today.” 

Luke grumbled beneath his breath as you walked in together—usually, the place was a mess of loose parts and hastily sketched out plans and smoke-scented clothes. Today, it was still a mess, but slightly less so. 

“Damn it,” Luke muttered. “Still not as bad as us.” 

“Stop comparing your place to everyone else,” you said. “This is supposed to be fun.” 

“Cabin inspections are fun?” he asked wryly. 

“Hanging out with me is fun,” you clarified. “I—”

You were cut off with a gasp of your own as you slipped, and before you could even fully process it you were falling. It wasn’t until everything steadied that you realized someone had caught you, strong arms cradled you around your waist. You looked up to see Luke’s wide eyes. 

“You good?” he asked, his voice slightly higher than usual. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding far too many times, “yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” 

“...Good,” he said, ever eloquent. 

A small smile creeped in. “You can let me go now.” 

It almost took him a moment to come back to Earth, because he blinked before he nodded, smiling on his own as he helped you back up. You could feel the heat in your face and tried your best to ignore it as you looked down. A small pool of oil was the culprit—you grimaced at the thought of having to clean that out of your jeans. Thank the gods for Luke. 

“That’s gotta be points off,” Luke whispered in your ear, still close by, and you stifled a laugh. “Oil on the floor, making pretty counselors slip. Right?” 

You ignored him too, looking over at Alya, though you couldn’t stop your smile. She looked mortified. 

“I am so sorry,” she rushed. “I guess Michael didn’t clean as well as he said.” 

“No problem,” you said. “I’ve got a little guardian angel. But this place isn’t too great.” 

“Damn,” she mumbled. “I even got one of your sisters to come in and help clean things up. Do you not smell the perfume?” 

“The smoke kinda overpowers it,” you said sympathetically, and she sighed. “Three out of five, Alya. But you’re right on the edge of a four.” 

Alya glanced at Luke. “Better than Hermes?” 

Luke grimaced. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

She smiled and went off to talk to one of her siblings. Luke shook his head and tutted once she was gone. “The double standards here are ridiculous, Rose. I might have to report you to Chiron.” 

“Oh, quiet.” You hit him in the side lightly with the clipboard and continued scanning the room for  a final check. “If you wanted help with cleaning up from an Aphrodite kid, all you had to do was ask.” 

“And would you have accepted?” he asked. 

“Of course,” you said as you scribbled down your last couple of notes. “I’ll always help you, Luke.” 

He went silent as you continued to write, and when you finished you saw he was only looking at you. 

You frowned. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Luke said, still smiling. “Let’s keep going.” 

You stared at him for a moment, but he didn’t say anything else. So you just laughed a bit and shrugged. Luke followed behind you as you walked out, and despite his claims of ‘nothing’ just a moment ago, soon enough he was talking again. 

“So,” he said, “Valentine’s Day.” 

“Valentine’s Day,” you said sagely. “What’s your plan?” 

“Be my Valentine.” 

“That’s your plan?” You glanced over at him. “Just asking me out straight-up?” 

“Oh, sorry. I also have this.” Luke pulled something out of his back pocket and held it out. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“A rose?” you asked with a lopsided smile. 

“Not just any rose,” he said as you took it. “A chocolate rose.” 

“You are so cute.” You pulled the wrapper off, and though the stem and leaves were plastic, the flower was, indeed, very much chocolate, and in the shape of a rather pretty rose. 

Luke shrugged. “Figured you needed something as sweet as you.” 

“I’ve got a toothache just from being with you,” you remarked. You broke it in half with a bit of effort and offered it to Luke. 

“You can’t just split the gifts I get for you with me.” 

“They’re my gifts,” you said. “I can do whatever I want with them.” 

“Really?” he asked. 

“What’s a rose without her thorns?” you responded. Luke grinned as he took the other half from you. You popped yours into your mouth and your eyebrows rose. 

“This is actually good chocolate,” you said as Luke ate his part. “Not like that crap we get at the camp store.” 

“I might’ve snuck out to the city to get the good stuff,” Luke said offhandedly. 

You looked at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“You risked all that trouble just to get some chocolate for me?” you marveled. “Hell from Chiron, extra chores for a month, literal monster attacks—” 

Luke held up a hand, stopping your ranting. “Nothing happened. And even if it did,” he shrugged, “you’re worth it. So it doesn’t matter.” 

You shook your head and Luke continued. “Besides, I got some other stuff too for the rest of my plan.” 

“Right,” you nodded, “you never finished telling me.” 

“How’s your schedule?” 

“Busy,” you said. “I’m an Aphrodite kid during Valentine’s season.” 

Luke tipped his shoulder. “Fair. Think you can block something out for me?” 

“That depends what it is,” you said. 

“It’s a secret,” he said. 

You stared at him. “A secret?” 

He nodded. “It might be a foreign concept to you Aphrodite kids, but—” 

You cut him off with a light shove and he only chuckled in response. “So you talk yourself up and it ends up being a secret.”

“I think I’ve earned some secret surprises,” Luke said. “I’m already sweeping you off your feet.” 

You shook your head, smiling inwardly as you tapped your pen against the clipboard. “Is that how you see it?” 

“Well, I did keep you from an untimely death back there,” he said. “And the more unfortunate plight of having to get oil stains out.” 

“You read my mind,” you mused. 

“And isn’t that worth a date?” Luke asked. “Saving you from a fashion faux pas?” 

“You’re worth a date all on your own,” you said as you came up to the next cabin—Apollo was bright as ever, gleaming golden in the sunlight—and you looked at him with a smile. “No rescuing required.” 

-

Your journey to the rest of the cabins went by relatively quickly, especially the Apollo and Ares cabins—you think Luke had been temporarily stunned into silence by you actually flirting back. 

You’d had a subdued smile on your face nearly the entire time, even as you felt warmth bloom over your face again. Luke really brought out the inner Aphrodite in you—you were sure your mother was proud, wherever she was watching. What seemed to get Luke out of his addled state was the 5/5 you gave to your own cabin—he complained that the scent of perfume gave him a headache, and when you said you’d been wearing perfume the entire day, he claimed that it was different. 

(Cabin Ten kept their full score. It was amazing what a pretty smile could do, especially when Luke was the victim.) 

Finally, you were at the Demeter cabin. Luke insisted on going there last, so that all the expectations would be tapered—he was still trying to get a better score for his cabin, but the odds were looking pretty slim. The door was already open, and you smiled at the newly grown flowers outside the cabin. 

“Nice touch.” 

Luke sighed. “Great. Going out with a bang.” 

“It’ll be fine, Luke,” you said. “I’ll help you clean your cabin tonight.” 

He frowned. “You were actually serious?” 

“Of course I was.” You tipped your head. “It’ll just have to be pretty late. Y’know, because you’ll be cleaning all the dishes.” 

“Low blow,” he said, shaking his head. You chuckled as you stopped in the doorway and poked your head in. 

“Hey, Katie,” you called to the counselor. “How’re things?” 

“Good,” she said, nodding. A smile of her own bloomed on her lips as her gaze moved over to Luke. “I see Rose and her thorns are on duty today.” 

“Flattery won’t help you with your score,” Luke mused as he walked into the cabin. You smiled as he held out his hand for the clipboard, and you finally acquiesced. You could feel Katie’s eyes on you as he walked further in. 

“He takes that as a compliment?” 

“Thorns protect a rose,” you said, still watching Luke. He played the part of a foreman well, investigating their shelves and walls with vigor and even opening drawers. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, and Luke looked back and smiled at you. You nodded, giving him the go-ahead, and he winked as he gave you a thumbs-up. 

“And he protects you?” she asked. 

You shrugged. “We protect each other.” 

“…You would be cute together,” Katie admitted. 

You managed to tear your eyes away from Luke, leaning back against the wall. “You think so?” 

“He’s only been vying for your attention and flirting with you since the moment you got to camp,” she said wryly. “But you’re the expert on love—you tell me.” 

You bit your lip as your gaze darted back to Luke, who was squatting on the floor having what looked to be a very serious conversation with a younger Demeter boy. 

“I think I’m his valentine,” you said, almost absentmindedly. “And I think I’m really looking forward to whatever this date is.” 

Katie came back into focus as you came back to Earth, and even she was smiling. “Then I think you’ve got your answer.” 

Luke had picked the most opportune moment to come back, when you weren’t staring at him like an infatuated idiot—you were only one of those things—and he held out the clipboard and pen to you. “After having a very in-depth conversation with Damian about how things are going here, I scored them properly.” 

You chuckled as you took it from him, but your eyebrows rose the more you read. “You’re kidding me.” 

He shook his head. “There’s unpaid labor going on here—unpaid child labor. Damian said he’s responsible for half the cleaning and plants here.” 

“We’re all children. All the labor we do is child labor,” you deadpanned. “And we’re sure as hell not getting paid.” 

Luke held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just delivering what he’s said.” 

“Don’t tell me he gave us all ones,” Katie said dryly. 

“You know him so well,” you mused. You scribbled out half of what Luke wrote as you stood up from the wall, shielding it with your body so he couldn’t see while you walked out together. “See you, Katie!” 

Her protests fell on Luke’s deaf ears as he held up the rear, shutting the door behind you two, and when you looked back at him he was grinning. 

“Straight ones,” he tutted, shaking his head. “What a shame. Looks like they’re gonna be cleaning the dishes tonight.” 

“You know they got a five, Luke,” you said, finally allowing him to see your revised marks. “If you’re gonna fudge the numbers, at least try and make them believable.” 

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed. “A five is way too nice—it’s not fair that they can just grow plants all over and make everything look presentable. Using powers should count as cheating.” 

“Their floors are clean, their beds are made, and it smells like floral heaven,” you said. You tapped his chest with your pen. “You could learn something from them, Castellan.” 

He caught your wrist before you could move it away. “The Aphrodite cabin always gets perfect scores. Think you could teach me a few things?” 

You grinned as you pulled your hand out of his grip and continued walking, this time en route to the Big House to drop off the final inspections. “That depends.” 

“On what?” Luke came back into your peripherals as he caught up to you. 

“On how good this secret plan of yours is,” you mused. 

His eyes lit up, past worries of low inspection scores seemingly fading away in an instant. “So it’s a go? You’re in?” 

“Of course I am,” you said, tucking the clipboard under your arm. “You got me the good chocolate, Luke. How could I not see where this goes?” 

Previously unnoticed pressure dissolved in his shoulders as he took your hands in his. You could only focus on his eyes, on the warmth of his skin, on the callouses borne from years of sword-fighting. 

He was surely blessed by your mother. 

“You’re not gonna regret it,” Luke vowed. “All those promises I’ve made about blowing you off your feet, about making your mother proud—they’re all gonna be true.” 

“You know what wise men say,” you said wryly. 

“That they’re so glad you’re finally giving me a chance?” 

“Only fools rush in,” you provided. “Going all in on our first date seems a little hasty.” 

“Isn’t your whole thing supposed to be rushing in?” he asked cloyingly. “Y’know, daughter of love and all.” 

You shrugged. “Maybe I like taking the idea of taking it slow with you.” 

“Then call me a fool,” Luke mused, letting go of one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His own curls hung over his eyes and you had the strongest urge to take his face in your hands. “Because you should know I can’t help it.” 

You felt your cheeks heat as warmth spread all over, and you couldn’t even try to hide your smile. “You think you can take me out on one of those city trips of yours? Show me how to steal a camp van without getting in the most trouble?” 

“I’m trying to steal your heart here,” Luke said with a goofy grin, “but I think a van’ll do.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” You took his hand back, intertwining your fingers together as you pulled him closer to you. “We can multitask.” 

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[coldcutfruit]

“And in that moment, we could really sense that it’s the beginning.”

“It felt like we opened the gates into the universe.”

[msbarrows]

Argh... so I've been reading in Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (SVSSS) fandom recently. And it's given me a new pet peeve about formatting and TTS. A bunch of the authors in that fandom are using black lens brackets to indicate the 'system' voice, 【like this】, because the original novels do, and, yeah... unfortunately that's not always compatible with TTS (definitely not with google's TTS engine, and testing with various other online TTS engines gives mixed results).

Guess how I know they're called black lens brackets.

…

Go on, guess.

…

YUP! They get read aloud! Every. Single. Time. They. Appear. Open black lens bracket like this close black lens bracket.

Please resist using the novel's formatting and just use regular square brackets instead! Which do not get read aloud unless there's a space in a bad position, [ like this ]. If you want to be fancy, maybe use <tt>...</tt> formatting or a monospaced font such as courier to make it stand out more as something mechanical.

[Like this]

Which reminds me, another bad formatting choice I've bumped into multiple times (and I can't remember if I've mentioned this one before) is where authors use something <like this> to indicate things like speaking mind-to-mind, or that someone is speaking a foreign language (despite the actual text still being in English). Cool. Neat. Also not TTS compatible, unless you like repeatedly hearing less than and greater than mixed into the text. But guess what - there are already perfectly serviceable ‹single› and «double» angled quotation marks that could be used instead - and since they're recognized as actual quotation marks, they don't get read aloud! Shocking, I know.

Those angled quotation marks could also be another decent option for indication of things like the system voice, obviously.

«Like this»

Thanks to everyone who is already using more TTS-compatible formatting, and to anyone who decides to make some changes to theirs after reading this :)

[pizzaqueen]

This little scene came to me when I was sleep deprived lol some established relationship fluff

"Tell me your deepest, darkest fear," Eddie says.

Steve glances sidelong at him where he's sitting next to Steve on the couch. He doesn't ask what kind of question is that because it's very much an Eddie kind of question. Instead, he says, "Kind of already lived most of them."

"What about the ones you haven't lived?"

"I—" Steve sighs. If he tells Eddie to drop it, he will. Or he could say something about zombies or ghosts or some shit. But he finds himself saying, "Sometimes I think I'm either too much or not enough, you know?" A beat and then: "I mean, in relationships or whatever."

"Even with me?"

And, okay, Steve didn't think that through. He shrugs and says, "Maybe."

"Then your fear is totally unfounded."

Steve looks at Eddie again. "Is it?"

"Yeah, of course. You are just right." Eddie grins. "Not too hot, not too cold," he adds as he gets up on his knees on the couch, then swings one leg over Steve. "Okay, bad analogy, because you are definitely too hot for your own good sometimes." He rests his hands on Steve's shoulders, moves them around to loop behind his neck. "But you're my bowl of porridge.”

"I'm your bowl of porridge?"

"Yeah, you know, goldilocks and the bowls of porridge and—"

"Oh, I got it." Steve smiles, then lets his head rest against Eddie's chest. "Bowl of porridge," he mutters. "You're a dork."

"Hey." Eddie shoves Steve lightly. "I'm being romantic. I think."

"Then you're a romantic dork."

Eddie pokes his tongue out. Steve does it back. Eddie shakes his head and says, "I just... I meant, you're not... You're exactly enough for me. Okay?"

"Okay."

Eddie's eyes narrow. "You believe me, right?"

"I believe you." Steve holds up his hand in a scout salute. "Scout's honor."

"Good." Eddie gently nudges Steve's forehead with his. "Because you're... You're the only one who's right for me."

"So are you," Steve says.

"Yeah?"

"Of course." Steve grins. “You're my bowl of porridge, too."

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Danny meets the batfam by crashing his car

So danny was going for his driving lisense, and it turns out he has inherited his farthers lack of driving skills

So he wanted to get better at driving

But to practice he needed to actually drive

Aaaaaannnnddddd

No one in amity park will let another fenton drive without a full lisenclse and proof that their a better driver than jack

So sam, tucker, jazz and danny go to some city with high crime rate so him crashing and driving like a lunatic wont stand out too bad

Well 2 hours later and sam and tucker making appointments with a heart doctor and danny is a little better

They were talking about food when danny made a wrong turn and crashed through a wall

When they all looked up they saw a group of furries being held at gun point and screaming and a guy with a red bucket on his head cursing and waving guns at them

...

They all look at eachother

Back to the furries

Back to eachother

And then cheif furry stepped foreword and was about to say something when danny paniced

He put the thing in reverse floored out, put it back into drive and turning so fast he flipped the car, once the car was right again he reversed into another wall of the building and then used the ecto-charge fearure on the car to activate the ectoplasm in the engine and floor it faster then the flash

He's sure this wont backfire

[turtleblogatlast]

Every time I see trans Leo I smile. Like yes that turtle is trans thank you…

[desertsfic]

the run and go Chapter 72: disjunction has been posted!

Dave looks at you.

You look at Rose.

Some conversations are harder than others.

I hope you will forgive me my absence, and the fact that this is maybe the third time I've had to split a chapter, haha.

[simmonsized]

Is it cool if I keep asking for your hcs? They’re pretty fun tbh. I got excited seeing the notification for the last one and they did not disappoint. Maybe I’ll ask for Alpha Dave this time because he’s pretty fun in your fic. I love his characterization a lot! Mom Lalonde would be nice too but hmm, maybe next ask? Or do both if you’d like to. It’s really up to you.

I just really like your guardians hehe.

Of course!!!! Honestly it is a lot of fun for me and it gives me an excuse to talk because, you know! Tbh it's the first time anyone has asked me in depth about any of the silly stuff I spend all my time thinking about, so I kind of love it! (also please always ask abt the guardians, i really like them, too!!)

WARNING THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME AFTER ALL IT’S VERY LONG I’M SORRY

SO: Alpha Dave (in context of rng)

A!Dave (and Bro) broke his nose when he was 13, for plot reasons, so his nose is slightly crooked (lists to the left)

He is Tall and hunches constantly because he hates being the tallest person in the room but no he doesn't but yes he does

Also it makes it easier to talk to people shorter than him

He can in fact fit into alpha Rose's clothes

He's a nail biter

This man has anxiety

He didn't get his glasses until he met Ben Stiller obviously so before that he would just wear very funny plastic sunglasses

Speaking of plastic this man own nothing but plastic cups EXCEPT

He owns one Whataburger mug that he has had since he was 10

He slept on John Crocker's floor for like, 4 years when he said he was going to college (he did not go to college)

This man did not even bother finishing high school

The Con Air Museum was a birthday present for John (he never got to see it in person)

Absolutely refuses to eat the crusts on his pizza and leaves them lying around the house for weeks until someone else picks them up

Only owns 7 pairs of socks god help him

Yes some of them have no heel

Also Left-handed for obvious reasons

collected Zoobooks until the fall of the humanity meant the publishing company went under

He keeps them in the back of his closet where no one but him will ever know

The secret to guardians is that they are duty-bound to their "kid", even if it means dying for them (example Mr bro bad man strider) but their separation over time and a whole life lived has caused Dave (and Rose) to lose most of that. Interpret any changes after meeting Dirk as you will

He is really bad with kids, mostly because

Dave Strider does not like kids

He does not like talking to kids, does not know how to talk to kids, because by the time he died at 65, there were no kids left for him to talk to, and he is just. Kind of a weird dude

My man has not had an apple juice in literally 16 years

Also to reference my last post, the alpha guardian formula [(2024+4n)-1995+t] means he and Rose were 65 when they died, according to RNG canon

He also broke his arm when he was 12 :)

He has never been to Disneyworld but used to take himself to Disneyland once a year for Christmas, sometimes Rose if she would fly out for him

He used to work in a record shop in Houston

This man can cook even less than Mom Lalonde

all his chapter titles have a theme

He does not like puppets but his proximity to Dirks (and Bro) are giving him pretty much unwanted exposure therapy lmfao

His favorite soda is Cherry Cola :)!

This man has never wanted anyone to like him as much as he desperately wants every iteration of Dirk Strider to like him

He is more interested in getting his own way than placating people, and this causes him to routinely mow over other people's thoughts and feelings

If he realizes he cannot get his way this way, he switches to Being Nice

He cannot (will not) stop following after Bro Strider like a lost dog after a bone no this will not change

It's fucked up but he is genuinely jealous that, at times, Dirk appears to get along better with Bro than he does with Dave

He uses strawberry scented shampoo

But still buys cvs brand detergent yes even now

He has scars across his knuckles in the exact same pattern as Bro Strider

He's also got the same scar across his palm as Bro :)

Only ties his shoes into bunny ears

There was a time when the alpha guardians did not know that their lil packages would never arrive

Can sleep literally everywhere on everything

Undisclosed back injury that causes bouts of sciatica from time to time

Is 120% more likely to accidentally kill a person than Bro Strider, but both of them have that kind of control you only get from a lifetime of not being particularly kind to yourself

Not afraid of blood

Has always wanted to go to a candy store

Actually likes driving BUT

Possibly the second most reckless driver out of all the guardians, after Mom Lalonde

Has some fucked up way of viewing both the Daves through the lens of his younger self, but unfortunately for all Daves, dead (or recently back to life) daves are the enemy

Did not learn how to swim until he was in his teens

Alpha Rose Lalonde was his only friend for like 20 years and my god, it shows

It is actually so fucking funny to me that bro spent so long trying to get Dave to stab him, on purpose, and yes this is also about Bro but mostly about Dave, and yes, he was in fact hoping Dave would stab him, and he was also a little disappointed that Dave had enough control to stop himself

Probably also impressed

Dave thought he was fucking insane (he is) and thus felt guilty every single fucking time because it's just a Dirk (bad)

But also at the same time has the same compulsion as Bro to like. Poke him until one of them gets stabbed by a sword, on purpose.

Wears a watch for the funnies

I really like the concept that Dave and Rose both maintained some kind of connection to their aspects but for Dave who never had a connection to the horrorterrors or Light (fortune), he mostly came across as what I am currently calling "a Failed Knight" (thus my joke about the old knight adage, "service without complaint")

Has a tendency to put things into his pockets instead of his sylladex without thinking about it

Started smoking younger than Bro

Pall malls, always, shitty on purpose, yes

Learned to sit still during [redacted] but has since pretty much lost that ability and is now completely fucking unlikely to stand still for longer than necessary unless it's like

Performative

I think he is more likely to yell than Dave, because that cold anger is a Learned Trait, and I think he has a lot to be angry about

He absolutely is going to need bifocals one day never before has a man squinted so much as a computer screen for so long

Coffee is half his diet

His favorite color is blue

stardust is an intentional parallel of neptunium

Remember that time Dave beheaded a juggalo president and no one talks about it what the fuck is up with that

He also has a fucked up death scar but I think I already said that

Thank you for asking I'm realizing I could go forever so I'm stopping here

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier

"The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy." - Jack Kerouac

Summary In July of 2023, Evie looked at a list of cities in North America and rolled a die. Just like that, she packed up her life and moved to Chicago, a fresh start. The 2023-24 NHL season started well for Tito; he did not expect the call on November 28th telling him that he was being traded. To the worst team in the league. And just like that. 10 months after being ripped from his home, he had to pack up and move again. To an unfamiliar city, and to unfamiliar faces. Which is why, when Tito and Evie ran into each other, quite literally, on Christmas morning, they both latched on to a familiar face. Over the next few months, they became close friends. They didn’t talk about the nights shared in Chicago clubs.  They didn’t need to. Because they're just friends.  Right?

This is a completed fic split into episodes for easier reading. It was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston.

Episode 1. Blue Christmas (4.9k) Episode 2. I. Winter (4.4k) Episode 3. Pal-entine's Day (4.8k) Episode 4. Four-leaf Clover (5.5k) Episode 5. Evie's Birthday 🌶️ (5.6k) Episode 6. II. Spring (4.8k) Episode 7. Not Goodbye 🌶️🌶️ (5.4k) Episode 8. III. Summer (4.8k) Episode 9. Tito's Birthday (4.2k)

Read it in full (44.5k)

🎵 Series Playlist 🎶

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Under the cut: author's notes, tropes, warnings & disclaimer, fun tidbits, chapter summaries

Author's Notes: This fic was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston. It got so out of control long so quickly. I genuinely had so much fun writing this, it's basically my magnum opus; if you look closely, I think you can probably see my soul in there somewhere. I would like to thank @devilssacrament, @wyattjohnston, and @forgottenflowers for being my editors, holding my hand and keeping me sane in this. Also, thanks to @swissboyhisch, and @imperatorrrrr for being a sounding board for ideas . All of your help and support has meant so much to me. You are all just the fucking best, I am sorry this has been my entire personality for the past month, I will probably return to normal soon. Probably...

Tropes: a gut-wrenching mix of angst and fluff with a happy ending, slow burn friends to lover (tbh, idiots to lovers let's be real), alternating POVs

Warnings: alcohol (one instance of alcohol poisoning by side character), mature content bordering on smut (mostly occurring in clubs/public), references to a toxic past relationship. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team based there. Only other Chicago players mentioned by name are: Nick Foligno, Jason Dickinson and Connor Bedard. Other notes: NHL players featured Mat Barzal (a heavily featured supporting character/bestie) and brief mentions of Zach Hyman and Matt Martin. Assume that Tito and Evie are always speaking in French with each other.

Face claim for Evie (if you want one, but you can imagine whoever you like): Adeline Rudolph

Fun Tidbits: Original Character (she/her) called Genevieve Gignac or Evie (pronounced eh-vee) is the oldest sibling of Tito's juniors teammate and friend Brandon Gignac. Along with their other sibling Wiliam, they grew up in Montreal. Evie had been living in Toronto for six years, before moving to Chicago in the summer before the fic starts. I did way too much research so a lot of the little facts are true. Nicknames: (ma) chouette (shoo-wet): owl (mon) chou/chouchou (shoo): in practice, honey, sugar, baby, sweetheart // by definition, my cabbage or my profiterole/cream puff (depends who you ask) Solours (soul-oars): the Québécois name for the yellow Care Bear with the smiling sun on its belly Solou’ (soul-oo): a diminutive Evie decides to use

Cook, Cook, drink your tea, But save some in the pot for me. We'll watch the tea leaves in our cup When our drink is all sipped up. Happiness or fortune great, What will our future be? -- "Afternoon Tea at Pittock Mansion" by R.Z. Berry

Episode Synopses:

Blue Christmas Evie and Tito are both starting life anew in Chicago. It's an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar faces. They're both alone on Christmas. Maybe it's fate that brings them together. Jason and Alandra Dickinson are already smelling smoke from this fire.

I. Winter Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

Pal-entine’s Day Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

Four-leaf Clover Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

Evie’s Birthday Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept. 

II. Spring Tito tries to tell her— he does— It’s just he needs to find the right time, and something keeps coming up. Evie’s honest with herself. But does that even matter? Mat decides maybe it is his time to intervene.

Not Goodbye Evie realizes that her time is running out. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she has one last night to find out. That is until— Well. It’s too late now. Tito flies home and wonders if that will be the worst mistake of his life.

III. Summer They try to get on with their summers as if nothing is wrong, convincing no one. How long will it take them to realize they can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine? And who will finally take the leap of faith?

Tito’s Birthday Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

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[ao3-crack]

(x)

[non-un-topo]

Thinking about the sniper duo