#the way I keep checking the history to see what else this kid looks up

[snailmail444]

I like to snoop on the search history for the computer at work. I’d kill to know what’s in the mind of my Teenage Boy coworker, who continues to look things up.

A list of his searches includes, but is not limited to:

🛜 fake ID generator

🛜 back of drivers license

🛜 drivers license not expired

🛜 noon

🛜 what time is noon

🛜 what time is afternoon

🛜 can blind people taste better

🛜 how do blind people know when they wake up

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Hiya, I was reading your "how txt would sound in bed" post and was wondering if you could do the same for Stray kids :)

Your writing is amazing, thank you so much💙✌️

starting off with channie, he's not too loud i don't think.

he is very breathy and kinda more on the throaty side. that's just when he's trying to be quiet though, when you're in his studio and the boys are in the next room or and your hand just feels so good moving up and down his sensitive cock, he feels like he's losing his mind.

he isn't too much louder when you're alone but i do feel like he would be so much more whiny and when he's not whining, he's moaning and he moans with his accent and dear lord.

lixie's moans would be so pretty, so deep and rich omg. just like his deep voice normally, his moans would be the exact same.

but also in my heart and soul i think that if he got into it (if you played with his nipples), his voice would get several octaves higher.

he'd keen and mewl a lot, getting so much more vocal when he's about to cum, whining high and cute.

he'll be going red when you point it out, fucking hell imagine him with sweater paws, getting fucked out of his mind but you saying his moans are the cute is the most embarrassing thing in this moment and he just covers his face with the sweater paws with a cute little 'stoooop'.

honestly, hyunjin took me a little while because i couldn't figure it out. after some contemplation though i've come to a conclusion,

he'd be kinda a middle range in volume, not too loud or too quiet, but that changes depending on the situation.

he really is a performer and that doesn't change in bed at all. even if he's getting railed so hard he's seeing stars he still keeps note of exactly what sets you off.

exactly which noises he makes seem to illicit that hungry look in your eye. he changes based on what you like, plays with you by using it against you. whether you like him quieter or louder (you better like him louder or i don't trust you) he notices and then it's just a game to see how long it is until he starts making them in a non-sexual way in your normal life, waiting for the moment you'll snap and fuck him against the kitchen counter.

now my sweet little brat lee know would grunt and groan a lot pretty quietly because he doesn't want to moan and let you know how good he feels.

when he gets really close though or falls into subspace, he just gets so completely overwhelmed with pleasure that he really can't care anymore, utterly debauched sounds falling from those puffy lips, all swollen from how much he's bitten them. super loud and super ruined, any and every curse under the sun gasped or whined out.

it's really adorable to see him going from somewhat composed, but clearly trying his best to stay that way and then just melt away with the pleasure, dissolving into a mess, a slave to the sensations that you give him<33

the cute little puppy seungmin, he pants a lot, whimpers a bit, akin to a puppy-

but he isn't that loud in general, he'll have to place his mouth right by your ear for you to hear his tiny mewls and whispers for more, honestly it's pretty perfect for when you're pegging him in mating press or missionary, and his face is buried into your neck

he'll happily make himself a bit louder just for you but only if you ask him nicely-and only if puppy gets a reward

my little perv jisung, babygirl's a shrieker for sureee, gasping, moaning, screaming, losing the very concept of composure, thoughts a jumbled mess just because of how good you make him feel.

gives zero fucks for anyone else around-i've said it a million times and i'll say it again, there is not a single ounce of concern for common decency when he moans out loudly from the vibrating plug up his ass in a public area.

dirty talker 10000%, learned it all from the absolutely sinful-*sigh*, just check his browser search history. baby's got a mouth on him and will not shut up unless you gag him.

he also definitely gets upset when you tell him that he has to be quiet, pouting and maybe even shedding a tear, asking why you don't wanna hear his noises.

binnie, he would sound so cuteee-

it really depends where you are because he's really shy and if you're anywhere that people would possibly walk in on you (gym locker room) it's gonna be heavy breathing and the tiniest n e e d i e s t little 'please' e v e r

and he isn't that loud to begin with but when you're in private, just the two of you, looking up at you with the sweetest cutest doe eyes in the world,

then he really feels like he can lose himself into all of the sensations, he loses it real quick tbh just of how sensitive he is and can hardly bring himself to be quiet.

and lastly, with innie, poor baby just gets so overwhelmed and so flustered, he'll try to cover his face and muffle his moans until you pull his hands away (or tie them over his head). even then though he won't let you really hear him, biting his lip or swallowing the moan crawling up his throat

he'll try to bury his face into your skin, trying to distract himself, take his mind off of how good he feels while marking you all up,

when he finally does let you hear him though-it really should be a crime that he didn't let you sooner, absolutely heavenly, absolutely sinful, wholly and utterly delectable. soft whimpers and full moans, ughhhh.

[yinyangofnevermore]

So you’re considering watching RWBY

Or you’re trying to convince someone else to watch it

(I made another similar post about this a while back)

But you/they aren’t sure. Something is holding you/them back. Like:

“But the animation n stuff is SO BAD!” - Sure. In the beginning it’s not great (though many of us now look back on those early volumes with fondness.) But you have to understand, RWBY started as a passion project at a small company with a budget of like $20 (yes I’m exaggerating but STILL.) They simply didn’t have the funds for good animation. But, after volume 3 came out, the show became a literal international hit and so the budget increased. And, subsequently, so did the animation quality. You can see that progression easily enough here. The quality goes from this:

To this:

“It looks stupid and childish!” - Yeah, in the beginning it’s meant to seem silly. And it still has its cartoonishly silly moments later on too. But those silly moments are meant to soften the blow of the PAIN. Because, while RWBY starts off as a silly, “good always triumphs over evil” slice of life magic academy type show it does not STAY that. There is PAIN. LOTS OF IT! If you keep watching, you’ll find out within like 6 hrs worth of watching that it’s not just some silly slice of life show. There is a complete 180 along the way when you find out what RWBY is truly about. The show actually delves into some pretty heavy stuff. PTSD, abuse, neglect, abandonment issues, alcoholism, loss, the inability to move on from loss for some, and more. For more on this, check out this post.

“I saw some stuff on Twitter/Tumblr/Youtube about how bad it is.” - That’s because there are ppl out there who want the show to be something it’s not. Or they got upset when things didn’t happen the way they wanted. Like Blacksun shippers or Adam and Ironwood Stans. Or they just want to shit on something. But EVERY show has its haters. Every piece of media has its haters. And they like to be loud edgelords about it. Sometimes just to be controversial and pick a fight. But that doesn’t mean shit. There are ppl out there who absolutely hate your favorite pieces of media, whether you’re aware of it or not. And that doesn’t stop you from liking it, does it? Don’t let a few haters prevent you from potentially finding your new favorite thing. Because there are a LOT of ppl out there who absolutely LOVE this show.

“I tried watching the first few episodes and I just... Couldn’t.” - Dude, I get it. Trust me. I did the same exact thing when I started watching. I watched the first couple of episodes and literally turned it off. But then I saw a few ppl posting about it here on Tumblr a while later and gave it a second shot on a whim. And BOY did it not disappoint when I got far enough in (and yes, that took a minute.) Mind you, this was back when Volume 3 was originally airing, so the drastic improvements in animation hadn’t happened yet. But I stuck with it anyways. And now look at me. But the show does take a while to really ramp up, so to speak. The beat doesn’t DROP until a bit later on in volume 3.

But, if you enjoy character growth and analysis, then you will most likely enjoy this show. The number of analyses on Tumblr and prolly Twitter as well are MANY. The main 4 characters are badass ladies learning how to fight and deal with life. Every character in the show is based on either a fairy tale, mythology, history, pop culture, etc. (sometimes they have multiple allusions to different degrees) and teasing out those details on top of everything else is quite fun if you enjoy searching for Easter eggs, significant imagery, foreshadowing, parallels, and so on. Interesting villains too. Not just the standard “Evil Witch because she’s evil with henchmen” thing. But fleshed out villains that have their Reasons™️. Like “Cinderella took so much abuse as a kid/teenager that she fucking snapped” type reasons. There is SO MUCH you can delve into with this show if you want to. Details as small as a whale statue in Gepetto’s office, or Belle reading a book with a candelabrum that looks like Lumiere, or characters wearing the colors of the person they love, or characters having eyes the color of their love’s aura (an extension of their soul.) SO MANY PLACES TO FIND THESE DETAILS. Including the lyrics to the music.

Which leads me to the music in this show is freaking AWESOME. And if you can’t appreciate that Casey Lee Williams has been singing in these soundtracks since she was like 13 or 14 (and listening to how she’s grown as a musician throughout it all to the point where she is now one of the music leads for the show) then I don’t know what to tell you. The music is all produced in house. And the lyrics reflect that. Each song is from the perspective of a RWBY character (or like team RWBY in general, depending on the song) and the lyrics give insights either about the characters or about stuff in the show (lore, foreshadowing, etc.) And they’re as fun to analyze as they are to jam out to.

The writing is FANTASTIC. Is it perfect? No. Of course not. They made mistakes along the way. Prolly will make some more. But every piece of media does to some extent. People aren’t perfect and so neither are their creations. But those imperfections don’t outweigh how amazing the story they’ve woven is. The writers of RWBY constantly subvert expectations in a BRILLIANT way. Not in a “wtf?? Where did that come from?” sort of way. But in a “OMG! Now that I go back and watch this again it makes SO MUCH SENSE” sort of way. And things that happen in early volumes actually COME BACK to affect things later. The show doesn’t just MOVE ON. The writers have been playing the long game this whole time. And rewatches will almost always show new details and foreshadowing you might have missed before.

Also, it GAY. And it’s THE major romance of the show. Not just a side story. And the voice actors are the Captains of the Ship! And it’s a beautifully written slow burn romance (amongst other romances also in the show) with yearning and pining for DAYS.  I believe it was Monty who said, “Good romance is earned.” And boy are they earning it!

So, in short, FUCKING WATCH RWBY.

DAMMIT.

If you do decide to watch, Volumes 1-8 are all on RoosterTeeth.com for free or everything is on Crunchyroll. And I definitely suggest starting with the 4 trailers, in order: Red, White, Black, then Yellow.

[fumifooms]

Here to share Hien thoughts today.

One thing that defines her is that she’s very capable. She’s the highest ranking in the squad after Maizuru so her confidence is in part because she does have that senior coworker &/ leader authority to her, confidence which is very much earned.

If I had to dig deeper at her beyond just what we’re shown I’d go with the angle that… She was born into the Nakamoto household and being a ninja servant, she grew up there, she doesn’t know anything else beyond the job, and it’s a job she does well, traines to get there. She’s here to do her work and she’s content with her life being how it is, not that she knows anything else. I don’t think she’d be self-aware about it all? Both because this really is pretty normal for Wa and it’s her normal, and because, while she doesn’t fold her spine or care for things like cosmetics, she does mold her attitude to be both capable and respectable. Her home, the Nakamoto household, is simultaneously a professional setting, it’s a 24/7 thing.

She’s critical of others, including her superiors and she doesn’t shy from it. Everyone shittalks Toshiro’s father regardless, but she also gets reprimanded by Maizuru for seeing Toshiro as vaguely unreliable, again likely influenced by their history as childhood friends, sasses Maizuru when she goes off into an anecdote again, etc. Even as a kid with Toshiro, doubtlessly after starting her ninja training already considering that Toshiro started his at ~5yo, she told him it was unbecoming of him to cry. She’s the one both with the job and the will to keep others in check, like when it comes to Izutsumi not doing her tasks, etc etc.

Her childhood friend relationship with Toshiro only grew more professional with time, to her surprise but seems to be more about the thought of it rather than it affecting her emotionally. With the way her extra comic lays it out, it seems she expected to become Toshiro’s mistress because of history repeating itself, in a "it is what it is" way more than anything, which is in line with the reading that she’s more go-with-the-flow and "anything that I’m tasked with I’ll accomplish, as a matter of course". She’s not really social, and keeps herself ready to act at beck and call. She’s not uptight but she’s hard-working. So yeah like, taking pride in your skills but also keeping your identity mostly molded for efficiency. She doesn’t really think about it all, she just is and she’s fine with things as they are, going from one task to the next.

I think it’d be neat to look at her relationship with her parents… They’re both servants at the Nakamotos’, so while maybe busy like Maizuru was at times while raising Toshiro but still taking the time to cook for him (which, parents that prioritize work over her would make sense with how she became how she is), I wonder what their relationship was like, how much time they spent together, how Hien feels like towards them… I assume they’re a part in molding what her definition of normal is, after all if they are longstanding servants of the Nakamotos she has that much less reason to question such a life. But like… Have they ever had hard-hitting discussions, or is she pretty distant even with them? Did they push her into working harder, or were more hands-off? Does Hien maybe want to earn recognition by being capable? Hien has a younger sister that she gets along "so-so" with…

Hien’s younger sister seems to smile more, be more social and a bit nonchalant, such and such. Could be a point of tension that points to the "so-so", that they’re dissimilar/Hien thinks she doesn’t behave right or takes things too lightly, that she’s "unreliable" maybe. Or it could also point to some difference in how they grew up… Like oh I bet there could be tasty angst with mertocracy and siblings favoritism with her family thrown in there… Having to earn the love, earn your keep, earn your spot in the hierarchy (in work and family both)

To me she shines best as a foil, like to Beni, but like. She’s got neat stuff going on If you’re wondering where I took half of what I referenced from I recommend looking at my masterpost on the Nakamoto party, info and extras are compiled

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation P13

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Masterlist

Warnings: post murder, drugging.

Notes: Wait... it cannot be... the final part of Infatuation? Posted? Pinch me, I must be dreaming! This has actually been sitting in my drafts for years. Not kidding. Ever since I finished Part 12, this has been collecting dust. Please enjoy, as I prepare some other goodies...

~

To put it simply, I’m frozen.

My instincts have me searching the room rapidly, but an emotional pull draws me to Love’s wide-eyed stare. She’s crouched by someone who’s laying limply on the floor. Well, I know they’re not just laying there. With that amount of blood, they’re surely… dead…?

I— I shake my head. No, no. Focus, observe.

The reasonable part of my brain tells me Love had something to do with it, but I can’t help but hold off on the assumption. Love couldn’t. She—

She stands and I feel myself stiffen. As she makes her way toward me, Im drawn to the blood staining her sleeve. I visibly gulp.

“I-It was self defence.” She says, nodding her head as though she were trying to convince herself as much as she were trying to convince me. She‘s making herself small, caving in with partially hunched shoulders and hands that don’t quite fit comfortably by her sides.

My god, she really did it. I could’ve believed the lie if I hadn’t seen the evidence caked on her… or looked at whatever remained of the neck, but I crouch and reach for the corpse’s face anyway.

When I drag her sticky hair out of the way, I feel an odd sense of satisfaction and relief. Now, I don’t have to worry about Candace… but this isn’t really any better. Love— she’s… she just took a life, and with a witness too.

I glance to you and Love drops the locker door behind us. I flinch.

“Does anyone else know you’re here?” I ask Love, feigning a calm demeanour. On the inside, I want to tear her apart— but I need a clear idea of what’s happening. You’re… here too. I can’t risk doing something drastic while you’re still in the room and looking this way.

“No.” She replies dryly before stepping back. “A-actually, yeah. Her phone—“.

“Do you have it?” I ask. When I glance back and up toward Love, she slips it out of her pocket and holds the device loosely toward me.

I take the device and examine Love’s face at the same moment. She seems erratic, so I tell myself that keeping myself together could benefit her as well, I need to be our anchor… lest I wake what’s underneath.

I place the phone in-front of Candace’s face and it unlocks.

“Check the call history.” Love rushes to suggest.

I look at her and squint. “…Why?”

“Someone called her.” Love says, and I’m already rubbing my forehead out of anxious habit. Oh, for fucks sake.

“Who?” I ask, shaken.

Love blinks, her expression shifting angrily. “I don’t know, Will—! I picked it up and I didn’t recognize any of it!”

“W-What did they say?” I stand up, looking at Love for answers. I’m getting frustrated.

She hesitates for a moment, but I can see she’s trying to wrap her head around it. “They said ‘get out of there’.”

I start scrolling through the call history with a shiver. All along the way, I see Forty’s name, and at the very top— the very last call received- I recognize the unnamed number.

I take out your phone, and open it swiftly. Love watches me and leans in curiously. And wouldn’t you know it, that same mysterious number litters your history too.

“This number called? It’s all over Y/N’s phone.”

“Wh-what the fuck does that mean?” Love asks me, stuttering and furrowing her brows like it’ll get her an answer. But then she looks to you.

“What the fuck does it mean? Who is that?-“

“Calm down.” I immediately regret my statement when Love’s face whips to look at me. She grimaces but hesitates to open her mouth. For the first time tonight, I see Love catch herself from what I can only assume is dawning realization that she looks and sounds absolutely ballistic.

“Why is she locked in that cage?” Love whines out about you, and I don’t know how to feel. She’s making me the villain, pointing fingers, but may I remind everyone in the room of who’s covered in fucking blood? You’re trapped in this glass container because I got carried away and made a selfish decision... but she did something worse, wouldn’t you agree? But stating this isn’t going to help anyone, especially our hysterical guest over here.

“I did this for you.” I reply instead, my voice just above a whisper. Love’s face softens into one I’ve seen countless times before. Yet… something in me has changed. I don’t feel warm when I see it anymore.

“We’ll get out of this.” She mutters, wiping at her eyes as though something were actually there. “We just— we just have to clean up a bit, yeah?”

And in an almost comical fashion, we both turn our heads to the cage— but more specifically… toward you.

You sit still in your corner. Your eyes are open and blown wide.

“We need to clean up...” Love mumbles again, this time drifting off as she observes you fondly. I can’t help but stare at her with an astonished look in my eye. She’s insane and it’ll be my unfortunate responsibility to do something about it.

“There’s some flunitrazepam in the desk.” I regrettably say, and a part of me feels terrible over the mere implications that flash through Love’s mind.

“I don’t even want to know why you have that.” She nearly spits, changing her demeanour once again. I have to clench my fists by my sides not to absolutely lose it in such a sensitive and integral moment. Love carefully makes her way to the desk and shuffles through the drawers.

In a minute, Love’s standing in front of the cage’s door, uncapping the water cup I got for you.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Love says. “You see this?” She holds a small grey pellet in between her index and thumb. “Im going to put it in this,” She wiggled the cup lightly, “and you’re going to drink it.”

You shake your head horribly, trying to shrink further into the corner.

“This is the easy way, Y/N. The hard way is going to hurt a lot more.” Love looks to you sympathetically. “Don’t take the hard way, babe.”

Babe… I gulp.

You don’t let up. You’re standing your ground and being stubborn, and I can see Love’s not having it. But you’re — you’re traumatized. I know you are because, hell, even I’m shocked at the scene I’ve stumbled into. We’re discovering something about Love we hadn’t known before… and it’s not easy. It’s never easy. Love takes in a deep shaky breath before facing me.

“Force her.” A shiver runs up my spine, and I hesitate. It’s not like she and I have gone through this before, had a plan, or even discussed the implications of her… hard way… but I think I know what she wants.

As I pull the key out from my pocket and unlock the door, I watch you cower. You’re just scared, but there’s really nothing to be scared of anymore… well, actually… I glance at Love.

“We can’t waste time, come on.” She says.

I step through and observe you for a moment. You try to stand up and I see it in your subtle move to get away that you'd expected to dodge me, but I’m quicker than you thought and you don’t have much room to wander. I hold my arm out and you run into it, allowing me to spin you around and firmly hold your arms to your sides and your back to my chest. My free hand simply grabs your jaw and squeezes.

Love steps into the cage as well, holding the cup in her hand and a face of… disappointment? Or maybe it’s shame, from the way I’m holding you still against your will.

“Y/N, I… I gave you options, okay? You chose this for yourself and we have to go through with it so we can move past it.” Her words are meant to reassure you that things could’ve been better, but I can’t help but feel as though she’s unlawfully justifying drugging you to herself.

As she gets closer, your squirming and panic gets worse. It’s not much to fight off, you never have been difficult to hold down.

Love’s hand takes my place and grips your jaw. You whimper, of course, and it’s such a gentle sound. You must be tired. She holds the cup to your parted lips and begins to tilt it into your open mouth. You sputter for a moment, and then your eyes shut tight.

“She’s not swallowing it.” Love grits and discards the empty cup. She loosens the grip on your jaw and, with her free hand, pushes your chin up to shut your mouth. Come on, Y/N… it shouldn’t be this difficult.

Love gently caresses your cheek and allows her hand to slide downward. I watch over your shoulder as her fingers run across your neck and, with a precise flick to your throat, you whine.

“You have to swallow.” Love states sternly as she tilts your head back some more. “Then it’ll be over.” You whimper again and I bite my cheek.

After another minute of your resistance, you start to move and it finally goes.. all the way… down.

It’s not long before you slump in my hold and I sit you up against a wall to think. What happens now?

I glance to a container of plastic bags. I wrap the body up, bring it out of town. A quick look to the phone in my pocket reminds me. I cover her tracks. But wait… teeth, finger prints, hair. Did Love take Candace’s car? And the messages… We can be compromised before we’ve even left the building.

When I look to Love, she’s nervously pacing back and forth. When she stops in front of me, I realize she’s been talking. “Are you even listening—?!” she panics. “Oh my god, we're so fucked!” Love grabs at her hair and looks around.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and I begin to wonder what our relationship will be like now. This isn’t going to work. My heart starts to race and I begin to heat up. She’s not meant for this. Will she let you go? I think we have to let her go.

I don’t hesitate to grab Love by the collar of her shirt and shove her against the glass cage.

"NO — W-WAIT," she tries to scream. My hands find her throat but before I can squeeze, she shouts.

“I’M PREGNANT!” and I still as my blood runs cold. My eyes run down her body then, quickly.

“You’re…” I hesitate to repeat after her, my terrifying future flashing before my eyes as my hands pull her closer by her shirt. I breathe out as my eyes meet hers again. I witness the… worry? Fear? Somewhere in her swirling sight, I feel exposed to sincerity. She’s telling the truth.

My arms fall limp to my sides, my attention growing dull. As my head swirls with thoughts, she slips out of reach. My eyes follow her movements until they settle on you, slouched, unconscious.

“I know how to fix this,” Love sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Just — please… take care of the body.”

[octuscle]

I'm a dad of 2 boys. My eldest is 22 and my youngest is 18. My younger son has some problems with a bully in his school and I want to help him but I don't know how. A friend of mine told me about your support and I hope you've an idea. Looking for to hear from you soon

One possibility is for me to do a bit of biographical work on your younger son… He is 18 years old. When his older brother turned 18 four years ago and went to college, he started bodybuilding. And your younger son was incredibly fascinated by your older son's successes. He soaked up all the information on nutrition, supplements and training like a sponge. First he secretly trained with your older son's dumbbells and then soon started pumping iron like a beast in his high school gym. As a junior without an older brother at the same school, he still had to deal with bullies at first. But that was soon history…

His puberty set in quickly afterwards, stimulated by the training. With power! Shit, your older son was so jealous when his younger brother grew a beard before him. He had to get used to the fact that his "little brother" quickly had a more massive upper arm, that he lifted more weight when doing squats. Your younger son then started shaving his skater boy curls. The buzzcut made him look even older, even more masculine. Your older son then got his first tattoos to assert himself. Your younger son was so jealous. But you and your wife agreed: no tattoos before his 18th birthday. Well, that was a few weeks ago now, the tattoos have healed. And your younger son already has his next appointments at the tattoo parlor.

In order to keep up with his younger brother to some extent, your older son swallowed and injected everything that could give him a massive body. He had no chance against his younger brother's genes. Today, your older brother is a real steroid pumper. With roid gut, acne on his shoulders, he only eats pure protein. He's a senior in college and about to graduate with a degree in mechanical engineering. A good kid. Your younger son, on the other hand, is a natural. And what a natural!

Does that sound like a solution? Then I'll tinker with a preset and send it to you. Just import it, click on Activate and then see if anyone else dares to bully your junior.

It's 06:00 in the morning when you come into the kitchen. Your son is preparing his 20 scrambled eggs for breakfast. This is his second breakfast. He's already had his first dose of protein before his first training session. He playfully punches your chest. Shit, even when he backs off, it hurts. In his melodious baritone, he asks you if you slept well, what your plans are for today and whether you'd like to do a round of chest training with him tonight. The thing he just boxed against felt a little weak. You grin. Of course you're the father. Of course you're the older one. But anyone watching you might think that your junior is the man of the house. And no one would think he's 18.

You enjoy training with your son. Most people in the gym think that you can afford the most promising young bodybuilder in the whole state as a personal trainer. You both like to play this game. And in fact, your son already earns more than you as a personal trainer, fitness influencer and fitness model. In the back corner, one of your son's classmates is training his biceps. He doesn't take his eyes off your son for a minute. And he has a visible hard-on. "Hehehe," says your son. "Do you see that prick back there?" You nod, of course you've noticed the guy, the way he's checking out your son. Your son grins. "Four years ago, he stole my milk money. Today he pays me his daily takings as a bully to suck my cock." Shit, your son isn't just a personal trainer, fitness influencer and fitness model. He's also a whore. But you can understand that. You know your son's horse sized dick. You'd pay to suck it too.

Pic found @truevikingblood-blog

[preyofolympus]

People who say Tim annoyed/ bullied/ tricked his way into being Robin, especially when bitching about comics canon vs fanon, genuinely make me lose my mind.

Like.

How thick can you be?

Tim didn’t even want to be Robin (I heard New 52 was a bit wacky but I’m not looking up his history in that continuity for a quick Tumblr rant). Like, he straight up asked Dick to be Robin, tracked his apartment down and tried to argue his case that Batman needed a Robin, and Gotham needed Batman.

He became Robin because he saw no one else was going to step up to the role, and Batman was spiralling after Jason’s death. Gotham gained a sense of hope with the Batman, and he was a symbol to them of something at least close to good in their messy city. Tim saw that the light Robin brought to the duo helped keep Batman in check to a degree, when his self-restraint wasn’t enough, and with this being so abruptly taken away with Jason death, Batman stopped pulling punches, began to lose sight of being that symbol of hope/ good Gotham needed. He was becoming a force of fear, like there wasn’t already enough fear in Gotham.

So Tim stepped in. He wasn’t instantly Robin after wrestling his way in. He earnt the Robin mantle, and worked bloody hard before Batman finally let him take it on.

I love Tim as a Robin, because he came from a privileged background, had his whole life basically set for him, and he could have easily sat back in Drake Manor, becoming nothing and having everything. But he saw that good needed to be done. He saw no one else was stepping up to do it. And he stepped up to the task.

He is selfless, embodies that optimism/ hope that the Batman symbol is meant to represent (at least at the start, before he loses the mantle). Tim’s Robin is the symbol of doing what is right, even when you don’t have to. Simply because it’s the right thing to do.

It’s two am, and I’m pretty much definitely not saying all my thoughts, and I’m sure I’ll notice a hundred typos when I wake up tomorrow, but goddamn Tim haters irritate me when they act like he is just some rich kid that wanted to be Robin. Like I hate being in drama/ discourse so usually I just shut up, but this recent canon be fanon shit has had me so riled on so many fronts (tbh I think this rant is just blowing off steam at a smaller issue, because I’m sick of seeing idiots on Twitter rag on my friend).

I haven’t fully read Tim’s Robin comics run, as I’m saving that for next Summer, but I’ve still read enough extracts to know this line of argument is just plain stupid, no other word for it.

Also, give up on the fanon vs canon shit. Seriously. It’s embarrassing.

Tldr; Tim didn’t want to be Robin. He stepped up because he saw no one else was doing the right thing. He worked hard before officially taking on the mantle. He saved Batman and Nightwing from the scarecrow, earning their trust to train him. Tim Drake is a hero because he could have easily lived life on the backs of his rich parents and kept his nose out of it, but he didn’t because he cared about Gotham and it’s people. There is no best or worst Robin, and Tim certainly doesn’t deserved to be considered the latter by some idiots who dumb down his journey to becoming Robin to “rich kid who wanted to play hero.”

[smolstarthief]

So, my TF: Prime S2 Finale observations I made in regards to Optimus' expressions, a small analysis!

But context first: So throughout about the 2nd half of S2 the 'Bots and 'Cons are trying to find a set of Omega Keys which if gathered and hooked up a device, can restore and bring life back to Cybertron. They could finally go home. It ends up being a struggle for both sides but the 'Bots managed to grab the keys before Megatron to use them and activate the machine... But unfortunately, their foes were one step ahead of them once again as, due to a grave error and poor communication, their 3 young human companions ended up being found and held hostage. If they don't lower their weapons and give up the keys, they will exposed to Cybertron's toxic atmosphere and they'll be forced to watch the kids die in front of them.

Naturally, having truly cared about the children, they give up without a fight... And that's where things get really horrible for them as despite the kids being safe with them, Megatron's thirst for power isn't satisfied with JUST Cybertron... He wants Earth as well; all life be damned with it. That's where Optimus is forced to make a choice: Either just let the Decepticons do what they want and restore his home planet but then Earth would be wiped of all life in Megatron's attempt to try to rule it himself along with his home planet... Or basically destroy the device capable of restoring said home planet, dooming his home of being lifeless for good and risk having him be demonized for it but Earth is safe from suffering the same fate and history repeating itself.

Now one key subtle thing I notice with Optimus is his facial expressions. He's often criticized for being too stoic but honestly, it's all in the expressions and body language with him. Eyes and eyebrows especially. Even with his face mask on, one can pick up subtle details if observed closely. Basically, he IS capable of expression and emotions despite supposedly keeping them in check.

And he gets put through the absolute wringer this season and one can tell he's nearing his breaking point. He even outright SCREAMS in frustration in one episode which seemed to startle/surprise Ratchet and Bulkhead.

But hoo boy, this finale here... Like his expressions hurt! Like he seems calm at first when Megatron taunts him until he looks back at the understandably panicked children begging the Decepticon leader to leave Earth alone.

Then his eyebrows are raised up a bit when he looks back at the laughing 'Cons, eyes/optics looking more worried now. You can tell what he's thinking. The gears are turning and he's struggling to figure out what to do. He seems almost at a loss on the best way to handle it.

Hell, you can even say he's almost scared. He doesn't want history to repeat itself with Earth. He and the others already had to deal with so much pain and trauma the war caused, some of which he no doubt blames himself for. He does want Cybertron back but at what cost?

Then, in an instant, it shifts to steely resolve and with a clenched fist proceeded to reclaim the Star Saber. He knows the risks but he will NOT let another innocent planet suffer like his did. It seems shaky still but he makes his choice as he destroys the Omega Lock, dooming his home for good.

Granted there might have been a better way but what else can he do at the moment? It was damned if he do, damned if he don't and time was running out. He makes his choice and there's no turning back... Even if he can't go home now.

And when Ratchet calls him out for his decision, he briefly turns his head to the side before shaking it and looking back at him while defending his choice. Like he seems almost unsure of it himself but there's no turning back at this point and he knows it. It was necessary to him.

Then there's the ending where he decided to stay behind to destroy the Ground Bridge controls so that his comrades and loved ones won't be followed. He feels like this will be the last time he'll see them as he believed that he will be captured and interrogated at best, executed/killed to make an example at worst. He's already been demonized and branded a traitor by Megatron as well. When he makes the declaration to Ratchet that he'll stay, it's his usual serious expression.

But once Ratchet is gone... It drops and it's sad. Almost like a mental outer mask is cracking. Once again, it's almost shaky as he looks at the controls and his clenches his fist again in resolve. It's now or never with him.

"I... never imagined it would end like this." "Neither did I, old friend."

Even when he's readying his swing, you can feel the shaky resolve still. But he definitely didn't think that Megatron would outright reduce the base to rubble but god damn!

But yeah, it just feels like that in both moments... Optimus felt lost and even helpless and it shows in his expressions. They all show how much of his serious emotions were almost a mask he put up for everyone else's sakes even at the expense of his own feelings. He seemed to struggle with what to do and even seems unsure of his decisions but also feels like he made the necessary ones, even though they were painful.

But yeah... TF: Prime Optimus needs a hug so damn badly!

[chronicowboy]

you left your mark on this heart | 6k

(OR: buck is medically diagnosed with butterflies, it takes a medical professional for him to see the pattern right under his nose)

Buck isn't the same twenty-eight-year-old kid who pushes beyond all his boundaries and ignores an ache in his leg mindless of consequences until said consequences are coughed up with blood in front of his family and friends. He's grown, he's lived, he's died, and he's no longer defining himself by his job as the be-all and end-all. He's thirty-one, and his back aches after sleeping on Eddie's couch for a night, and he's maybe slightly terrified of returning to work after a bolt of lightning went through him like a carving fork through meat. So, he's almost relieved when he notices the oddity in his heartbeat.

The first time he notices it is when he escapes the endless rota of visitors at his loft for the warm embrace of the Diaz house. It's hard to focus on it when Eddie smiles at him like he's been waiting for this to happen since Buck left the hospital and yet still it's the smile of a man discovering he's won the lottery. It's hard to focus on it when Eddie calls him sir and looks at him like he's trying to see through Buck's chest to make sure his heart is still beating away—looks like he's trying to decide if it would be too much to ask to take care of Buck's heart for him, to tuck it right next to his own in his chest and promise to keep it going for as long as his. It's hard to focus on it when Eddie is unpicking all of his most carefully stitched wounds and laying his insides at Buck's feet just because he asked.

So, he forgets about it until Dr Salazar tells him he can go back to work.

"Unless there's anything else I should know," she says with a raised eyebrow when his silence lasts a little too long.

"I don't think it's anything, but..." Buck chews on his lips for a moment before rubbing an absent hand over his sternum. "Recently, I've been getting these... Flutters?"

It's a stupid word, makes him feel like a teenager discovering butterflies when their crush's hand brushes against theirs, but it's the only way he can describe the sensation. His heart doesn't race, it doesn't skip a beat or palpitate or clench—that's why it had been so easy to forget. It just... flutters. Two beats for the price of one before it falls back into it's normal rhythm as quickly as it had fallen out of it.

"Flutters," Dr Salazar repeats not unkindly. Buck nods, a light flush of embarrassment crawling across the bridge of his nose.

"I know how it sound and I really don't think it's anything to worry about, I just..."

"Better safe than sorry," she replies, examining something on her screen. "We've done so many tests, Buck. There's not a single anomaly in your heartbeat. You have one of the healthiest hearts I've ever seen considering that you just got struck by lightning." She shrugs slightly. "So, I think you're probably right about it being nothing. But I want you to grab a notebook from the store on your way home and just start jotting down whenever it happens. Date, rough time, where you are, what you're doing, anything that might be relevant. I'll schedule a follow-up appointment for a week from now, and we'll look at your findings together. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, that's good actually." Buck takes a deep breath, rubbing his palms on his jeans. "Can I still go back to work or..."

"I don't see why not." She smiles at him gently, understanding. "But if you want to wait, that's more than okay. Always good to be cautious after something like this. And I'm grateful that you've told me about this, I know you might not have a few years ago." Buck knows that it's part of her job to read his medical history, to find out about blood clots and pulmonary embolisms, but it still makes him uneasy all the same, being known like this, for his worst moments. "If the flutters get worse, start feeling more dangerous than just flutters, do not hesitate to call me or check yourself into urgent care. And I know you're surrounded by people with extensive medical knowledge, so I recommend telling at least one of them. Especially a colleague if you are going back to work. Just so there's someone to look out for you in case it does get worse."

"Okay." Buck sighs, nods to himself. "Thanks, doc. See you in a week."

"See you in a week, Buck." Dr Salazar walks him to the door, grabbing a lollipop from the jar by the exit just before he goes. "For telling me." She winks as she presses it into his hand, and Buck snorts as he tears the plastic away and pops it into his mouth.

(keep reading on ao3)

@danielsousa @gracelcdomas @jamietarts @butchdiaz @shitouttabuck @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter

[im-overstimulated-and-im-sad]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @carlos-in-glasses @sznofthesticks @heartstringsduet 💝

This is from the upcoming chapter of my TK and Sophie fic - little plot here just TK being protective -

2010 -

“Well, you kids have fun,” Sophie said with a wink. “I’m gonna go see how long the line for the Cyclone is”.

“Soph, wait,” TK said. “Maybe… maybe you should stick with us”.

“What?” Sophie looked at him over her shoulder, baffled. “TK. We talked about this. Wasn’t this your idea?”

“Yeah, I know”. TK muttered. But it had been his idea when they had been talking about it at home. Not when TK felt the eyes of way too many tanned guys with big arms and small tank tops following them down the boardwalk. And TK might enjoy this, except he knew it wasn’t him they were checking out.

Sophie lowered her voice. “TK, you really want to ask someone out with your sister hanging around you?” The top of TK’s ears turned pink. Carson and Kenny were still in the hot dog line, and were far enough away that TK wasn’t worried that they’d heard her. But [redacted] was much closer; she was texting, but she’d definitely heard.

“Fine”. TK sighed. “You’ve got Enzo’s phone on you, right?”

“Yup”. Sophie took it out of her pocket. “It’s right here”.

“Keep the ringer on”. TK pressed. “And please, please don’t go off with anyone. And don’t talk with people you don’t know”.

“Uh huh”. His sister rolled her eyes. “Unless they offer me candy, right? Then I should snatch that shit up. I was kidding, TK,” she admonished when his face visibly paled. “God. I’ll be fine. Now, please go have your own fun? Or at least go talk to Carson before he realizes how annoying you can be?”  

No pressure tagging - I tag @anewkindofme @actualalligator @lochnesswriter @lemonlyman-dotcom @snowviolettwhite @reyestrandd @dreamingofmickeywaffles @firstprince-history-huh @lightningboltreader @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @herefortarlos @inkweedandlizards @birdclowns @freneticfloetry @paperstorm @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @welcometololaland @tailoredshirt @thebumblecee @liminalmemories21 @happilylovingchaos @chicgeekgirl89 @sugdenlovesdingle @carlos-tk @eclectic-sassycoweyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @kiloskywalker and anyone else who wants to do it - open tag 🫶

[autumnalfallingleaves]

Could I ask for some Frilda fics recommendations? I'm brain rot over them since last friday night and I need more Frilda content! I would appreciate anything Frilda-related, really.

Also, do you know if there is any kind of Frilda fest or fic exchange or anything like that?

Thanks a lot in advance!!! :D

I don't know of any fests or exchanges sadly (though I would love to participate in some...) but here are some recs!

Put them under a cut to conserve space :P

Building a Better Cabinet of Curiosities by BlackEyedGirl-- Future Fic, Pre-Slash, finished

Summary:

Frida looks up from her cataloguing slowly, eyes taking in bright red boots all the way up to wild blue hair. Having Hilda descend upon you unexpectedly is just as startling at twenty-one as it was at eleven, and just as wonderful.

This one is very sweet, with 21-yo Hilda, Frida, and David. Hilda and Frida try and educate the residents of Trolberg on the actual history of spirits and trolls, not just what prejudice wrought.

-

The Trolberg Chat by SunsetCorvid-- Chatfic, unfinished

Summary:

Kaisa: well anyways Kaisa: which one of you checked out Homestuck from the library Hilda: WHAT Hilda: THERE'S HOMESTUCK IN THE LIBRARY??!?!!? Kaisa: yes Kaisa: sadly TW for: Homestuck references /j and some swearing.

Older characters, not exactly focused on Frilda but it's definitely there. The kids are around 14/15 and this fic is so fucking funny.

-

Puppy love is hard to ignore by mandaree1-- Short oneshot, finished

Summary:

Frida has questions about Familiars. Kaisa knows a confused gay child when she sees one.

Sweet little fic on how Frida is afraid of losing Hilda. Kaisa is a good older sister.

-

Mitten Memories by posm_24 (posm24)-- Oneshot, finished

Summary:

Posted on tumblr as @/swaggyotterz24  Johanna and Hilda have a chat about crushes.

Hilda asks Johanna about something that's been bothering her. Little Sketchbook at the end, as well. Cute little read :)

-

I have a bunch of Frilda stuff that I've written, too (I'm CascadingSilver on AO3) if you're interested in any of that (I do a lot of Troll Hilda stuff), and my sideblog @frilda-archive has a fic tag that I try to keep on top of! If you're interested in anything else, just let me know :)

[princess-of-the-corner]

Quirk Counselling

Cause Mimi asked me to expand, and like-

Weird place to start, but have you ever read up on the history of plague doctors?

Most of them weren’t actually doctors. The Plague sprang up so fast, the government didn’t have the time, money, or resources to hire that many doctors. All things considered, I’m not sure that many doctors existed at the time, especially when many actual doctors were likely to be the first one to get sick. Given the way people got sick, government concern was very quickly becoming less about curing the disease, and more about containing the spread, figuring out who had it. And you didn’t need to be a medical professional to do that. Apparently, the most common occupation of Plague Doctor wasn’t “medical professional” it was farmer, greengrocer, and butcher. People who weren’t making a lot of money at the time, cause being a Plague Doctor paid REALLY WELL. They were sending you to check up on sick people, and possibly get sick yourself and die. So they had to make this position look good. So, even if you died, your family would suddenly have quite a bit of money. “Plague Doctors” weren’t really about being DOCTORS, they were about confirming whether or not someone had the Plague. They worked more like census workers who gave out shitty medical advice, than anything. Seriously, read up on Plague Doctors sometime, cause it can be real interesting.

Anyway, I imagine this sort of thing is how “Quirk Counsellors” started. When Quirks first started popping up, the governments of the world would make it mandatory to see someone when they manifested a Quirk. Because most of this would be little kids, they frame it as “helping them develop”, but the reality is they want to know what portion of the population HAS Quirks and what they are. And again, you don’t need a medical degree to tell someone else your observations about a person. I imagine that all initial Quirk Counsellors were just random government agents, and had to submit their files to a government database, so it’s basically registering your Quirk status with the government. But they had to keep up with demand, so you hire anyone who applies, and you pay them well, cause you want them to like you, and you’re sending someone to check out a potentially dangerous situation, you are paying them enough to not care about the possible poison gas.

Of course, some things would have changed by present day, mostly cause so has society, but I imagine Quirk Counsellors haven’t changed much since their inception. While there can be private Quirk Counsellors, most are still government positions. Literally anyone can do the job. There aren’t any qualifications. You don’t need any kind of medical degree, you maybe need to complete an online course (maybe) that takes like six weeks. They pay REALLY WELL. You’d get all kinds of people - those who genuinely want to help but have no clue what they’re doing, those don’t give a fuck and are here for the pay check, those who are actually really good at it but suck at marketing themselves. It’s a shitshow.

I imagine there’s probably SOME regulation, but none of it is government mandated, it’s all done by the community. By review, and word of mouth. Like, Quirk Specialists are probably a thing - a Quirk Counsellor that specializes in a specific kind of Quirk type. I imagine that Specialists are probably the ones you want, because the idea is they dedicate their time to something specific, so actually know what they’re talking about. General Quirk Counsellors, who sort of do a bit of everything, are who you go to “diagnose” your Quirk, then you go to a Specialist. But even that isn’t a guarantee that you’ll get someone good. Some Quirk Counsellors network. Some don’t. Some charge you additional fees. Some will only see you if you agree to a certain number of sessions. Some reserve the right to name your Quirk for you. It is a MESS.

-

Oh I love this and unfortunately for everyone involved this works very well for the role of a certain OC I can’t wait to kill!

[modelbus]

o3o May I request c!Tommy x protective!reader who uses she/they pronouns? (Platonic, please!)

Reader arrives at the same time as Eryn and finds out how badly Tommy has been treated for the past few years, decides that she's going to make sure he doesn't have to go through that again. - 🍜

My first C!Tommy writing! You'll have to tell me if it's horrible and if I should give up on writing C!Tommy :D I did some digging on the timeline and Eryn joined before Dream's escape, so keep that in mind.

Pairing: C!Tommy x She/They!Reader (platonic)

Just a Kid

Most people told you to leave Tommy alone.

You had seen him around a few times, building random towers and collecting materials. He never seemed very happy about whatever he was doing though.

Before joining, you had only heard rumors about everyone. Technoblade, the ruthless warrior. Philza, the man who survived hardcore and earned wings. Tommyinnit, the kid who was so full of energy that it was infectious. If those rumors were true, then Tommy had changed. Gone was a kid full of energy, replaced by an empty shell of a person.

In a way, it was scarier than anything you've ever seen. What makes a person look like that? He would check over his shoulder, a white-knuckled grip on his sword. Always gripping a sword. His clothes were constantly dirty, and his eyes were practically gray. Under his eyes were eyebags that were miles deep, a dark purple against his pale skin tone.

"What happened to Tommy?" You decide to ask Ranboo. Although Ranboo didn't seem to remember much, he was always willing to help.

"Tommy? He's... he's changed. I think. There was this stuff with Dream? Sorry, I- you might want to ask someone else."

Dream. That was a name you knew hardly anything about. The very owner of the server, missing from it. Someone had told you that he was in prison, but that didn't make sense. How did the owner of the server end up in jail?

Eret was the next person you ask. He seemed pretty levelheaded, so he had to have some answers.

"What happened before I joined? With Tommy and Dream and all that?"

He pauses in his building to turn his head towards you. His glasses are too dark for you to see past, but you assume he's looking at you.

"It's a long story. Tommy and Wilbur tried to create a nation called L'manberg and Dream didn't like that. There was a war. Tommy ended up losing in a duel, losing the war. But Dream still gave L'manberg their freedom. There was an election, Wilbur and Tommy lost which turned L'manberg into Manberg. There was another war."

"A lot of war." You huff.

Eret smiles. "There is. Tommy lost a cow and started a war somewhere in there I think. But he didn't lose the war against Manberg. Instead, Tubbo became president. Tommy got exiled. Nobody really knows what happened to him, but he came back... different. Changed."

"Nobody?" You push. That didn't seem right.

"Nobody apart from Dream and Ghostbur. But Ghostbur is long dead, and Dream's in prison. Anyways, there was a war in which L'manberg was destroyed. Completely. They tried to rebuild it a little. Wilbur died and got revived, it's... it's a long story. Complicated. But Tommy died too and got revived after getting stuck in the prison."

"Holy shit." You wouldn't want to get stuck in that prison. Just looking at it was scary enough.

"Kid's been through a lot. Lost a lot. Seen a lot. We all have."

"Like him?"

Eret's look turns more thoughtful. "Not like him. Not as much as he has."

Right then. It was decided. Nobody was going to hurt Tommy ever again. Grief and loss were something you were familiar with, but he was just a kid. A kid with a haunted look in his eyes, an exile nobody knew anything about.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'm making a history museum, after all." As you leave, you can hear him talking to himself. "She's digging up skeletons meant to be buried."

If skeletons were meant to be buried, then why were two revived people walking around on the server? You might not know much but messing with life and death sure couldn't be good. If you were here, you might as well try your best and bring some peace to the server.

So, you go against the advice given to you. You talk to Tommy.

“Hey! Tommy, right? What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t trust you, but he has no reason to. With a suspicious look he angles himself away from you but still responds. That’s something, right?

“Getting supplies.”

“I can help! What are we gathering?”

“I don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say you needed anyones help. I’m just offering.” Your grin never wavers. “Bored and willing to help out.”

“…wood.” He reluctantly answers. “To rebuild my house. Oak wood.”

“Great!” You grab out your netherite axe, only to spin it around and offer Tommy the handle. His axe was iron and you had a diamond one you could use. “Here, I’ll use my spare diamond one.”

His face twists, and you realize your mistake. The gift could be seen as pity. Sure, you might be becoming protective over Tommy but it wasn’t out of pity.

“It’ll be faster.” You add on.

He takes it slowly, but takes it nonetheless. Progress.

Your next move is to talk to Jack Manifold. The guy seemed a little odd but not too bad. No matter what your personal opinion of him was though, you had seen the billboard. The hotel. Big Manifold’s Hotel sign was very obviously painted over Big Innit’s Hotel.

“Speak of the devil! There they are!” Jack calls out to you, waving. He was talking with Niki, another member you need to talk to. Two bats with one arrow, right?

“Jack! Niki!” You exclaim. “Just the people I was looking for!”

“What can we help you with?” Jack asks, smiling. Unlike Eret his glasses were see-through.

“I was actually wondering about your hotel. It used to be Tommy’s, right?”

“Oh, yeah. But then he died so it went to me.” He shrugs, seeming unconcerned by it. There’s just one little flaw in his logic.

“But Tommy’s alive.”

“Listen, you joined at a really nice time. Tommy’s chilled out and it’s better this way. Just leave things be.” Niki suggests.

“He’s chilled out because he fucking died! He’s a kid!” You exclaim.

“You don’t get it, he terrorized the server! It’s better off this way. He deserved everything that happened to him.”

You stare at Niki, jaw dropped. She couldn’t be serious, could she?

“You’re- maybe I’m wrong here, but he’s been through multiple wars. He’s died. He’s seen his country blown apart. He was exiled. And he’s still a kid. You’re telling me he deserved all that?”

“He brought it upon himself.” Niki answers.

“Heh, maybe we should just calm down?” Jack suggests.

“I’m calm.” You break eye contact with Niki to look between the duo. “Honestly, the hotel is none of my business. I just wanted to warn you both to leave Tommy alone. You might be okay with what’s been going on, but I’m not. In my books you’re both just as bad as Dream.”

Rumors on the server often turned out to be correct, as you were quickly learning. But now they've been dealt with. You weren't going to let anything else happen to Tommy even if it took all three of your lives, you swear by it.

There was one last person you had to threaten, but he happened to be unreachable. The very man who perhaps hurt Tommy the most. Dream.

As it turns out, Pandora was pretty good at keeping people both in and out. No matter how many times you begged Sam, he never let you in. Always claiming it was a liability, especially after how Tommy got stuck in there, which led to a whole new conversation.

"How the fuck do you lock a child in with a monster? He died, didn't he?" You ask, already furious at Sam's constant denial of letting you visit Dream.

"It was an accident. He signed a waiver-" "HE DIED! Aren't you meant to protect people? Isn't that what being the Warden is all about?"

Sam's expression crumples, and you suddenly realize you might be yelling at the wrong person here. So far you seemed to be the only one actively helping Tommy, but that didn't mean he was alone. Maybe there were people still in his corner, people who just fucked up a little. (or, in this case, a lot)

"Threaten Dream for me, would you?" You ask, backing off. "I think we can both agree that we'd kill him if he ever hurt Tommy again."

"Yeah." Sam nods. "That I can do."

With a smile, you set off a friend richer.

Tommy did still have people out there who cared for him, he just didn't know it. Maybe one day he'd see that, but only after a shit ton of healing.

For now, all you could do was give him a safe place and get him in some goddamn therapy.

[nerves-nebula]

k im gonna be in my feelings about my race again so here we go

i sometimes worry that the way my mom raised me has made me permanently cut off from other black people, because she never seriously called us black. she was racist about a lot of stuff but she specifically insisted that if we wrote our race down on a form we would check both black and white, or just "other", or black, white, AND other.

i've talked about this before but i never referred to myself as black until i was about 15, maybe 16, so for the majority of my life i wasn't black i was just "mixed" and black americans were a group of people neither my mom nor my dad wanted me to be.

i still remember sitting in the gym and hearing some guy trying to tell his friend where he'd put his backpack or something, and he'd said it was next to "the black girl with long hair" and his friend stopped by ME and looked back for confirmation, before his friend told him he meant the other one further down. and idk how to explain this feeling.

cuz like, i was homeschooled, so i didnt even have the chance for other people to call me black. i only met the people my mom wanted me to meet until high school. ironically, it felt kind of like passing, which is absurd for two reasons:

the history of the word "passing" originates from (i believe, though i might be remembering wrong) black people who could "pass" as white deciding to do that and disengage from identifying as black. so the fact that i'm referring to it but like positively and in reference to how it feels as a trans person to get gendered correctly is kind of funny.

i am literally black. im not even so light skin/white featured that i could be mistaken for white i am LITERALLY VISIBLY A BLACK PERSON my dad is from NIGERIA

and yet!! i was relieved that someone else called me one unprompted because i was and still am sort of afraid that everyone else can tell i am Not Like Them. that i was raised to think i'm not like them. that i'm not Really Black, that I'm new at this cuz i only started calling myself black a few years ago. i know that my experiences are black american experiences because i'm a black american but i just. i worry that the opportunity to be a part of a black community will never happen!!!

but then i see my siblings. my younger brother is fully culturally a black american. he did a lot of sports growing up so he picked up a lot of black american subculture from the other kids there, and my oldest sister is getting more in touch with black communities too. they're like an activist and do politics and shit. i'm not sure what it is i need to do but i can see that it's possible i just need to fuckin!! talk to more black people!! go to black events!! but i can't because i'm an agoraphobic freak that doesn't go anywhere i don't HAVE to go!! and i feel like i don't belong with black people because i've had it drilled into me by my mom that i'm not one of them and i'm not black enough and it's laughable to call myself black.

but im not even sure if i can vent to black people about this cuz it sounds like i'm whining about having to be black or something that isnt a real problem but it really fucks with me sometimes it's like fucking race dysphoria or something (can't think of a better word for it sorry)

anyway the point is i'm fine i'll figure it out. i just need to keep trying. i try to find black people online and become painfully aware of the fact that i don't know how to find them and just have to keep searching shit like #black queer or #black artist until i find some ppl i wanna follow.

special circle in hell for ppl who give their kids racial complexes.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story)

Summary: Steddie Canon compliant/fix-it fic paired with a corresponding story in Steve’s POV, each chapter happens in tandem with the other. Eddie wakes up alone in the Upside Down, not knowing how he survived, and unable to reach anyone topside in Hawkins. Wounded and alone, he finds shelter at the Harrington’s house (the place is a damn fortress after all), and while hiding out there discovers that he has gained the ability to walk into other people’s dreams.

((unbeta'd snippet from Chapter 03 that probably has some incorrect information in regards to the Upside Down/history of the show but I haven't gone back to fact check just yet. Also remember Eddie does not have some information that the others do so there are missing pieces there as well: for instance, he is calling the Demogorgon a Nazgûl (because we are doing lots of LotR references, and he never actually saw a Demogorgon in the show). He is currently hiding at the Byer's old house, and ends up falling asleep there while the creatures ourside are hunting. This is the first chapter where Eddie doesn't dreamwalk with Steve -- but with someone else. And therefore learns that he can walk into anyone's dreams. Also sets the tone for the rest of Eddie's story. There's 15 chapters total, if that helps paint the picture of how much more there is untold. Another stupidly long snippet, but it will probably be my last one for Eddie for a while. I'm wishy-washy on when the fic will be posted, and the logistics of formatting dreams vs. reality, but more info will come when the time nears. For the purpose of this snippet, the dream is in italics and reality is in regular))

—

Eddie dreams, and almost immediately he knows it’s not his own.

After finding himself walking through Steve Harrington’s dreams, Eddie discovers they feel very distinctly different from experiencing his own. It’s less confusing, for one thing, and he’s more sure of himself and his body as he moves around within the dreamscape. But he’s only dreamed with Steve twice, both when sleeping in his bed in his home, and there’s something very not Steve about this dream.

For one thing, he’s back in the woods. Not the Upside Down version of the woods, either, because the trees are intact and the air smells less foul, and there’s a different hue to the darkness here. Almost like it’s lighter, more familiar, nostalgic to his rattled senses.

He spins around, hands in his jacket pockets, once again wearing his battle vest (he misses it a lot, maybe Harrington kept it for him) and his Hellfire shirt. His armor. His go-to outfit. If he was to be drawn like a cartoon character in Scooby-Doo or some shit, wearing the same thing every frame, this is what he’d have on. And when he looks out into the darkness, he finds himself alone. Very much alone.

But this isn’t his dream.

How does he know this? Don’t fucking ask him. Eddie can just… feel it. Like when you step outside and can tell it’s about to rain. The atmosphere is just different.

He can also tell this isn’t Steve’s. Steve’s dreams feel like wearing a warm sweatshirt, they are crisp and confined and comforting even when they are facing something scary. But this… this feels more brittle. More watery. Smaller.

Then, Eddie sees him.

A little boy, standing in the woods. The towering trees seem to press in on him from either side, the forest floor is a shag carpet of leaves, roots and dips in the ground that could swallow that kid whole. He looks so small, and lost. Eddie had been lost in the woods before, when he didn’t know that if you just keep walking in one direction you’ll eventually hit a road. So he makes his way towards the boy, and only pauses when his vision fails him.

Well, it must have, anyway. Because Eddie could have sworn it was a little boy, about nine years old, and then like a movie-frame shutter the boy ages a few years. And then the click shutter happens again. It’s very ghost-story-esque and Eddie isn’t sure he wants to get much closer after that. The boy shutters between ages: maybe 10 years old, then 12 years old, 15 years old, and back to 10. If he had to guess.

But his presence doesn’t go unnoticed, the kid turns to him and looks at him with wide eyes. He’s got a rather unfortunate bowl-cut and big watery eyes and is looking at Eddie like he’s one of the Nazgûl come to eat him alive. So Eddie raises his hands in the universal gesture of ‘I come in peace’ and – it takes him a moment to realize he’d done something similar to Chrissy all those months ago. Trying to make himself not look so scary for a moment, when he spends most of his time otherwise doing his very best to have ‘Fuck Off’ stamped on his forehead.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tells the kid, who about trips over his own feet to back away. “I’m not gonna hurt you. What’s your name?”

The boy licks his lips in nervousness, shutters between 10 and 12 again, a courage in his eyes as he finds his voice. 

“Will Byers.”

…Oh, shit. 

Eddie’s eyes are a little wider, now, and he lets out a deep breath as he tries to gain his bearings. He’d fallen asleep in mini-Byer’s room, and now he was in his dream.

So that’s how it works.

“Will Byers,” he murmurs, still a little shell-shocked. “Your friends with Wheeler and Henderson.”

He blinks and the kid is 15, almost as tall as he is, looking at him with more curiosity now. But then he’s 10 again, fingers clenched at his sides, suspicious and untrusting.

“Who are you?” he asks, his little voice doing its best not to shake.

“My name is Eddie.” He’s usually good with little kids, and he’d get down to the other’s level if he didn’t have a tendency to switch between four feet and six. But the spark of recognition is worth the softer tones, because the kid immediately connects a bunch of information Eddie isn’t privy to. But he gets the same look in his eyes that Henderson does when he figures something out.

“Eddie who died?” Will Byers asks, confused, hopeful.

“Yeah, Eddie who died,” he says back, and wow that feels like a kick to the chest. He puts his hands back in his pockets and leans on one hip heavily. At least they still talk about him, topside.

“Why are you here?” Will asks. Eddie just shrugs in response.

“I don’t know, man. It’s your dream.”

There’s a noise off in the distance, a dark guttural growl and heavy footsteps – both Eddie and Will look to it, snapping to attention and not moving an inch. ((This is a dream.)) Eddie reminds himself, like he has to do every single time. But the Nazgûl and Vecna could probably penetrate dreams as well as minds, so who’s to say that the thing in the distance wouldn’t be able to hurt them, here.

Will’s back to a small child, the same face and wide eyes that had been on missing posters three years ago. And he’s looking up at Eddie, whispering so as not to be overheard by the monster in the forest. “Do you know somewhere safe to hide?”

It takes him a moment to consider it. In fact, Eddie almost retorts with the same line as before. It’s your dream, kid. But then again, Eddie did have more control of himself so maybe… maybe he did know a safe place. Max had hidden from Vecna in happy memories, right? Dreams were just a compilation of memories and imagination. Eddie knows how to weave a tale, so yeah – why not?

He nods, steps closer, and offers his hand to the kid.

“This way.”

The woods are dark and dense and kind of lovely in their own way. The two can hear the Nazgûl in the background, although Eddie really wants to ask what the kids called it instead, and as he walks through the woods he just… focuses on the areas of the forest he knew well. In particular, the place he set up shop almost every day of the week.

And like magic, it appears.

They step into a small clearing in the woods, and there’s the picnic table he had last sat at with Chrissy Cunningham. Making a fool of himself to get her to laugh so she wouldn’t look so scared of him. Now he knows she wasn’t really scared of him at all, but the hallucinations Vecna had plagued her with. He swallows thickly, not wanting to think about Chrissy now – not when his very thoughts are driving where they walk – and then they are rounding the bleachers of the high school football field. Crossing the parking lots, and ducking through the East Entrance doors. Will had changed again, he’s older now, maybe 12 or 13, and looking around in curiosity.

Interesting.

“Have you ever been here before?” Eddie asks, because he needs to know. If Will had never been to Hawkins High, then he wouldn’t be able to dream it at all. That would mean that Eddie could create things out of thin air in a head that wasn’t his own. Both a very cool and very scary thought.

“Only a few times for school stuff. The others knew it better than I did. When I was lost they had El do her mind-walking here, so she could search for me. They made a sensory deprivation tank in the gym.”

Mind-walking. Eddie is even more interested now, and he wants to pry every little bit of information out of mini-Byers head if he can. “That’s the girl with superpowers?”

“Yeah, she’s like my sister.”

“And she can walk through minds?”

“Kind of,” and woah the kid’s voice dropped. He was older now, and taller again – probably the actual age of Henderson and Wheeler and Sinclair. “She walks through dimensions, but she can also walk through memories.”

“What about dreams?”

He almost doesn’t ask, but he also doesn’t get an answer – because then they make it to his hideout.

Eddie opens the door to the Drama room, where (low and behold) the Vecna Lives! Campaign is still set up from the night of the basketball game. The night Chrissy died, and Eddie’s entire life with her. The stage lights are set low, he’d created the perfect ambiance, and the table is still full of the havoc of their campaign. Those little shits won by the skin of their teeth, all thanks to Erika Sinclair. He’d never expected that. But it had been such a wonderful, delightful surprise. It’s a good memory, and Eddie holds onto it, lets it warm his chest and ease a smile onto his face.

“Woah!” Will’s face is pure awe, and there’s a handsome little smile on his face as well as he looks over the entire board. “Is this… you did all this?”

“It’s the night before I became a fugitive. My last and greatest campaign,” Eddie laments, shutting and blocking the door (just in case the Nazgûl decides to take up tracking) and then circles round to his Dungeon Master throne. Flops down in it with his legs hanging over the arm, and relishes in the familiarity of it. It’s the throne the props people built for a few plays over the years, and Eddie had to beg the Drama teacher to let him keep it for Hellfire. It was perfect. Set the tone immediately. All the other players got little folding card chairs, but Eddie was in charge and this was his domain. The throne never let them forget it.

Will looks around the board with skilled eyes, taking in each part of the story, and then his gaze lands on Henderson’s seat, where the character sheets and books are still set up. He must recognize the name, or the handwriting, because suddenly he’s frowning. The seat next to Henderson is Wheeler, and the frown deepens.

“Those shitheads,” he mumbles. “I begged them for months to play D&D with me last year, and as soon as I’m gone they join a club for it with a kick ass DM.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment” Eddie tells him with a wave of his hand, like the royalty he’s trying to be. “But yes, that was rather shitty of them. They told me all the time about how you’d wreck the campaign. Your presence was missed, Will the Wise.”

And it was true. Henderson had often shouted to the D&D heavens when Eddie’s hidden monsters would destroy half their party and demand to know where ‘Will the Wise’ was when they needed him.

“So,” he draws out the question, wanting to get back to the mind-walking girl, but he can see there is something still bothering the little Byers. “Did Henderson take over the campaigns? Or did you fill my empty throne upon your return?”

The smile falls from his face like a cinder block, and Will sits down in Wheeler’s seat heavily, gaze still roaming the complex board on the table.

“No, there’s been no games since everything happened.” He sounds sad about it, but Eddie gets the feeling it doesn’t actually have to do with D&D at all. 

“How come?”

“Well, it’s kind of a… sore spot,” Will admits, and then he glances guiltily at Eddie. Who doesn’t get it for a minute.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

It must show on his face that he knows it’s because of him. He was the ringleader of Hellfire, after all.

“Dustin doesn’t even really like talking about it,” Will confides in him. “But he doesn't really talk to anyone about anything, we don’t see him that often. Mostly just at mom’s family dinners when Steve drags him there.”

“I heard about those,” Eddie murmurs, picking at the flaking black polish on his nails to mask the guilt clawing at his chest. “Good ole Steve.” 

“He’s trying so hard to take care of everyone, but I know he spends a lot of time with Dustin. And Max. I really should visit Max more,” he murmurs now, his gaze going further away, and Eddie isn’t sure if he’s waking up from his dream or if Eddie is actually losing him in all this maudlin talk.

“She’s in the hospital, yeah?”

“The doctors aren’t sure if she’ll wake up,” Will tells him. “She’s just… in a coma. El is worried she’s stuck somewhere between the realms, but everyone else is worried she’s just… gone.”

Okay, they needed a topic change.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Eddie says, nearly flipping out of the throne in a manner that might have been a little over the top, but it shook the sadness from Will’s eyes and that’s what Eddie was going for. Court Jester, extraordinaire. It worked on Chrissy, it’ll work on little Will Byers. (Although not so little anymore.)

“Sure?”

He fumbles upright, and sits down in Henderson’s chair so he can finally level with the kid.

“You were stuck in the Upside Down when you went missing, right?” He knows he’s right, Henderson had gone into great detail about how it all started, but that's not the point of asking the question. Will nods, confused but intrigued. Super. “Okay, so – how did you hide and like… stay sane? You were just a little munchkin and all but you were in there for days.”

“Time moves differently there,” Will points out, but then shrugs and thinks about it. Looking up at the stage lights in thought. “I hid in this old fort of mine in the forest, it was something I had built myself and it didn’t make me feel so alone.”

Castle Byers, Eddie had seen it. He nods and motions for Will to continue with an exaggerated hand flourish that makes the kid smile. 

“So, here's my theory – after talking with El and some of the others about it, and about how Max hid from Vecna – I think maybe because it held such good and safe memories for me, it protected me like no other house could. I think that’s how I wasn’t caught again.”

Now that, that gives Eddie pause… because his safe spot right now was Harrington’s house. But he had never slept in Steve’s bed before in his life. (Dreamed about it? Of course, but Eddie had only ever stepped foot in his kitchen to do business during house parties. There was no connection to the property itself.) So why was it safe now? Was it Steve’s memory that made it so? A combination with the fact there were no vines inside? It was a lot to mull over, and Will was taking his silence as a go-ahead to continue on.

“Basically, if I had to give any advice,” Will draws out, trying to see what Eddie was angling for. Yes, advice would be greatly appreciated. “The Upside Down is a direct mirror of Hawkins, so go and find the bits of yourself that still exist out there. Things that make you feel more like yourself, and less like you’re living in hell. Clothes or pictures or books. Something that’s not dangerous to carry around, but reminds you of home.”

That makes a lot more sense than Eddie had expected it to. 

He looks back to Will, and gives the kid a grin that is equal parts impressed and appreciative.

“Thanks, kid. I think I’ll just have to do that.”

Will beams at him, a little hero-worship shining in his eyes that Eddie has witnessed before from his little hellion sheep. But then a spark of something like recognition crosses those wide eyes and Will’s gaze narrows at him in suspicion.

“Wait, why would you want to know that?” he questions, and Eddie doesn’t answer. Stays kind of tight-lipped about it because… he could just tell mini-Byers that he’s alive in there and that he should get Good Ole Steve-O and Nancy Wheeler and superhero girl to come rescue his ass. But would he believe him? Or remember?

And he recalls how fast the Nazgûl attacked once he fucked with the lights. The gate was closed, opening it could open up a whole can of worms or whatever that no one was ready to deal with.

Maybe… maybe he should just sit tight, for now, and see if he can help them all out somehow?

((Where was all this self-righteous bullshit coming from?))

Analysis time would also be a problem for Future Eddie.

“Let’s just say, it’ll come in handy for me,” Eddie relents. A little hint. Knowing those shits they’ll figure it all out anyway.

Instead of elaborating, he extends his hand, and waits for Will to clasp it like all good boys had been taught to do.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Will the Wise.”

He’s slow to smile again, but it’s a genuine thing and Eddie takes it for the little speck of Gold it is. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you, Eddie the Banished.”

And Eddie knows he has Henderson to thank for that nickname, but he would wear it proudly for the rest of his days if he ever manages to make it out topside again. 

Although Byers might give Henderson a run for his money on ‘favorite child’, at this rate.

—

When the blood red morning dawn creeps in through Will Byer’s windows, and Eddie crawls out from underneath his bed, there’s a lot of thoughts tumbling around his head as he gathers his things.

In particular, the thought that trying to contact the other side might not be the best idea at the moment. 

For his health? Yeah, possibly. He can’t actually live on moldy food the rest of his days, however short that may be, but he has to think of the bigger picture here. Everyone was having a rough time topside, in a completely different manner to Eddie’s own, but that old saying really rang true to him – shit was tough all over. They were all trying to heal, and knew there was a fight on the horizon. Eddie knew that eventually, everyone else would make it back to the Upside Down to finish this fight. He just had to live long enough to see that day.

So… why didn’t he just use his placement as an advantage?

Why doesn’t he do what he imagined himself doing, and really commit to the bit of espionage? Eddie could commit to the bit so hard he got himself in trouble most of the time. No use switching that up now.

So he gathers his things, tip-toes through the house, and runs right back into the woods. He has quite a few stops to make, but there’s one he needs to do first and foremost.

It takes the better part of the day, but he finally comes to the trailer park. The chasm splitting open the Earth glows and pulses with an intense heat, and there’s things prowling all around, but Eddie stays pressed to the backs of the trailers and dips and ducks around as best he can. Avoiding bats and rats and dogs and what might be a cat-like creature but he’s not entirely sure. Margaret’s trailer is much further down the road, where he’d biked when the bats chased him, so her bunker of Doomsday materials would have to wait.

Will said to find the things that reminded Eddie of himself, so that’s what he was going to do.

Uncle Wayne’s trailer is split in two, but Eddie’s room had been at the back end so it survived – to a degree. He crawls through the wreckage, picking through stuff that’s burnt and probably leaking radiation or some shit (seriously how has he not dropped dead at this rate?) and finally finds the tiny space that used to be his closet. It’s full of shirts and clothes he hasn’t seen in a couple years, but at the bottom is an old metal tool box that he’d stashed a bunch of sewing shit inside of. Patches. Bits of old band T-shirts, and sure enough – he lifts the lid, and finds the very origins of his battle vest. It’s still a jean jacket, at the moment, with sleeves covered in patches and safety pins – he ripped them off the summer between his second and third senior year – but on the back is the freshly hand-stitched Dio logo taking up the entire back panel. It’s gorgeous, and he immediately slips it on under Steve’s leather jacket. He’s lost enough weight the past few weeks it still fits, but he has a feeling he might be ripping off the sleeves sooner rather than later. Because he has some work to do, and some weapons to practice with.

But not before he goes and retrieves the final missing piece of himself.

His sweetheart is lying on the ground, covered in ash, some of the strings rusted. He whispers apologies to her as he picks her up out of the rubble. She’s a beautiful blood red Warlock NJ Series electric guitar that he spent two years saving up for, and as soon as he clips on a strap and slings her across his back, he feels more at peace than he had in a long time. Will the Wise had been right, he feels like he could take on the world with these bits of himself restored.

Harrington’s house was twenty miles away, and sundown was in only a few hours. He had errands to run, a distance to cross, and a realm of monsters in between them.

But he also now has a bike (discarded in a pile from Spring Break just waiting for him to pillage), and his guitar, and his battle jacket. 

Fuck Vecna and his minions. This was Eddie’s world now.

Time to get to work.

—

tbc

—

Series Snippets:

- Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

- Subconscious (Steve’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)