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Your regular reminder that trickle-down economics is a cruel joke designed by the wealthy.

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where'd that horse girl lae'zel truther post go

edit: a sequel has manifested

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GUYS. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN WRITE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE FICS ON AO3

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Not All The Love

For @astrangersummer week 5: Fireflies

steddie | 701 words | major character has dementia | see tags below or on ao3

Hopper's mental state is deteriorating fast, this is one last night in the family home.

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It was a quiet evening. Steve expected as much. There was dinner that Joyce had loved into existence and served with a tight smile and music that came from Hopper’s record collection that was always playing. Nancy and Jonathan’s little girls were still collecting fireflies and jarring them up for a grand release. 

It was almost too soft, too calm before the storm   for him. Though if Joyce would have anything to do with it there likely would be no storm. Steve props himself against the back porch doorway and watches the scene on the lawn; the gaggle of kids who’d dragged him through hell and back spread out on the grass helping the two young Byers girls fill their jars. Robin’s out there with them too, taking a tumble when she over-extends herself and cackling on the way down. 

Hopper settled into the rocker by his side before Steve noticed, startling him with the flick of his lighter. He could hear Nancy and Joyce laughing at something Eddie had said deep in the house.

“Sorry, kid,” he chuckled. He offered up a cigarette. Hopper was supposed to quit long ago, Steve did just four years ago. But he still took the smoke and leaned down to the lighter Hopper’s holding.

“Thanks,” Steve coughed, which made Hopper laugh. Steve will never know if Hop remembering him all the way makes it easier or not. He’d already forgotten Joyce’s boys and God knows he never had a chance to know his granddaughters. Joyce would occasionally slip his mind, and there was once he couldn’t recognize even El. Steve spent that night on the phone with her till she’d cried herself out. 

But Hopper always remembered Steve. 

“So how’s the station?” 

“It is what it is,” Steve shrugged. “The team misses you. Flo always asks after you.”

“Ah, she’s still there? I knew she’d outlast us all.”

“She’ll outlast me, that's for damn sure.” Steve marveled at the laugh that pulled from him. He’d taken over the position of chief of police when Hopper retired and therefore adopted Flo too. 

“I’m grateful for you keeping them honest.”

“I try my best.” 

“You do a damned good job, son,” Hopper said. Steve’s heart clenches. Tomorrow he and everyone else would be forcibly, and she’d warned them how upset Hopper could become for it, moving Hopper out of his home that Joyce had to sell to support his memory care. Tomorrow Hopper and Joyce would be sleeping in a small studio apartment in an assisted living community. Tomorrow the world would cave in around them all, but that night Hopper was as he’d always been: gruff, and short, and ten times the father Steve’s own had been. “I appreciate what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t changed too much around-”

“For our family, Steve.” They make eye contact as Steve finishes up his cigarette and Hopper starts another. “The kids, Will, my girl. I’ve never been comfortable giving up control, but there’s no one I would rather leave the safety of my family to.”

Tears jumped to Steve’s eyes. 

“Hey, kid, did you see the series last week?” 

And just like that the lucidity was gone and it was 2005 again and the White Sox had won the World Series. Nancy drifted from the house to her husband and daughters, and as if on cue Joyce and Eddie sidled up to their corresponding partners. Joyce petted a hand through Hopper’s hair that he instinctively leaned into. Eddie slipped his hand into Steve’s back pocket with a crooked brow. Steve shrugged in response and kissed his cheek. Dustin helped one of the young girls twist the lid of her jar off, then the other, and shouted out.  Steve leaned further into Eddie and closed his eyes to burn the innocent image of fireflies dancing up through the night sky to join the stars in lighting it up. The kids shrieked and giggled, El and Max and Lucas danced circles around them. Hopper laughed at something Joyce whispered in his ear as she took place on his lap. Not all the love in the world could save them from the next day, but it could protect this last night.

[yikes-em]

Bay-Breasted Warbler Boy

For @astrangersummer week 4: outside

steddie | 1383 words | gen/no warnings | see tags below or on ao3

Eddie's not looking for much of anything, besides some lyrics. Steve's looking for a bird but finds something else.

My late contribution to week 4! Outside

Read also on ao3

Monday: 

Eddie’s been working on this song for hours it feels like. It’s the first one that’s ever plagued him like this. The music was easy; that had come first in fact. But the lyrics are illuding him. Which is why Eddie’s up in a tree in the middle of Lakefront Park on the first of May. He’s got a recorded clip of the song on loop through his earbuds and is agonizing over every word. Each phrase he sticks on the paper is quickly scribbled and replaced, scribbled and replaced. 

It’s noon. He’s been there nearly two hours already with nothing to show for it. 

Beneath him, a man with binoculars who truly doesn’t seem to know Eddie is even there sits crouched with a field notebook on one knee and his phone on the other. He’s only been there a half hour or so, attentively scanning the waterline. Is he watching for boats? People? Who knows, Eddie sure as hell doesn’t. And it doesn’t bother him so who is he to bother the guy? They just so happened to be under the same tree at the same time. 

Eddie resumes his manic scribbling and by mid-afternoon, the guy under him has moved on to another tree and Eddie is free to escape the mounting heat in his apartment. 

Tuesday:

He doesn’t make it up into the tree until later that afternoon. It’s more like dusk with the sun disappearing behind Chicago’s skyline. He loves this time, especially in May when it gets a little chilly. Eddie tugs his jacket a little closer as he scrabbles up the side of the tree trunk and contorts himself to keep balance while writing. 

The hot brunette, Eddie’s taken to calling him that overnight, is wandering around a few trees away. His head is pointed straight up and he’s holding a camera that he either hadn’t had the day before or Eddie just didn’t see it. That’s one thing that draws Eddie to take a closer look. Not only does he hardly ever run into the same person at the park, but this guy’s a lone photographer. 

The brief thought that he’s a paparazzi who’s taken to stalking Eddie hits him, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. Hot brunette has wiry glasses perched on his nose and a polo tucked into trousers. He's quiet and careful where he steps and holds his things. This guy does not exactly fit the typical bill Eddie has for paparazzi. 

So he’s normal. Well, about as normal as a guy in assumably his mid-twenties spying around a public park in Chicago could be. 

He thinks about calling out to him. Decides against it. Settles for observing from afar. And when Hot Brunette finally finds his way under Eddie’s tree again, Eddie has to actually think about stopping writing. His words had been so easily flowing with the visual distraction. 

The guy huffs out something that sounds like ‘okay’ and pulls out his notebook from yesterday. Eddie leans as far out as he dares to try and read any of it. He’s a little too high up for that. Instead, he tries to decipher Hot Brunette’s mumbling. Also gives up on that a few minutes in and returns to his writing just to give up on that too. 

Eddie actually falls asleep in the tree like that, waking up after dark without Hot Brunette. But hey, he’s got half a song now. 

Wednesday:

It’s 7 am. The park is empty when Eddie gets there, which in all honesty is a little surprising with how nice the weather is. There are no people or their kids or dogs around. Good for writing. 

Eddie settles into his tree again. He’s almost finished with Hot Brunette’s song after just 40 minutes when there’s a rustling in the leaves by his head. Then it shifts higher and comes with a short, shrill song and he’s face to face with a golfball-sized bird. It’s cute honestly. It’s got a chestnut coloring around its head and neck, a black face, and yellow around its neck.  

And then there’s a camera shutter. 

Eddie jolts, limbs flailing and trying to balance himself out. He hits the ground hard, notebook slamming down beside him for dramatic effect. 

“Are you okay?” Hot Brunette asks, helping hand outstretched. 

“Fine, yeah, I’m good!” Eddie says through a grin and takes the help up. 

“I didn’t even know you were there, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says again and dusts off Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s pretty sure there’s nothing there. 

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” Eddie’s voice is a little shrill and defensive. He still can’t gauge if this guy is real or not. 

“I promise I wasn’t taking a picture of you,” the guy says as if reading Eddie’s mind. “See, it was the bird- I’m an ornithologist and I’ve been tracking- you know what-sorry I’ll- My name is Steve. Are you hurt?” 

“No,” Eddie supplies quickly, gathering his notebook up in his arms and tucking away his earbuds. “Are you? Did I hit you on the way down?” 

“No,” Steve shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m fine. Just scared the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, well, me too, I guess,” Eddie shrugs.  He can’t help the shy smile he’s sporting. “Not every day I go falling for guys I’ve never met.”

That’s not a total truth. Eddie’d had a thing for Hot Brunette-Steve- since he first saw him. 

“Ah, so I’m just the lucky one then?”

“If you say so,” Eddie says with palms raised. His phone goes off in his pocket and after a quick check knows he can’t blow Chrissy off when they’re this close to dropping the new album. “Fuck, I really have to take this but it was nice to meet you, Steve!”

He burns the smile and wave Steve provides to memory. 

Thursday:

Eddie should have gotten his number. Or at least his full name! Shit, he should have given Steve his own name so if Steve was actually interested he could’ve looked him up. Well, maybe that would have been an overwhelming discovery to just stumble upon. Fuck! 

Eddie’s racing back to his tree at the same time Steve’d spooked him yesterday for a second try at a first meeting. 

He hoists his upper body up on the limb and stalls when he sees a ziplock bag with a photo in it nailed to the crook of the branch where Eddie’d taken to propping his back on. He tugs it loose and drops back to the ground to inspect it. It’s a picture of the bird from yesterday. Eddie’s foot is visible in the bottom left corner. It makes him chuckle. 

He turns it over and full-on grins. Male Bay-Breasted Warbler. May 07, 2024. Lakefront Park, Chicago, IL. Pictured in a tree with the foot of a cute guy. If he should want more pictures of birds reach out— 3126381682

Score. 

Eddie dials the number. 

“Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Oh!” Steve laughs into the phone. “Are you the guy who fell for me yesterday?”

“The one and only. I hope. I love this photo,” Eddie says earnestly and considers it again. It’s a beautiful picture of such a small creature. “Would you want to grab a coffee and show me some more of your birds?”

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear that exact pickup line.”

“Well the wait is over, sweetheart,” Eddie beams, practically skipping back toward the city. “I’ve swindled myself into a free weekend so whenever and wherever, I would love to meet you properly.”

Friday:

After the green light from the band, Eddie convinces Chrissy to add his newest acoustic song to the tracklist. Bay-Breasted Warbler Boy is easily the most streamed from the album when it drops a couple of months later. He escapes the offices with time to spare before his date, and picks up a bundle of sunflowers he thinks Steve will love. And he does, says so with a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie thinks it then but only voices it four years later at their altar. Of all the things to come out of falling from a tree, a husband isn’t the worst. Preferred, in fact. 

[yikes-em]

Green Houses, Pincushions, and a Wedding

For @astrangersummer week 3: flowers

steddie | 3426 words | gen/no warnings | see tags below or on ao3

Three things you can find at Steve and Eddie's first date. Or: Robin sends "Maid of Honor" and very single Steve to pick up the flower arrangements for their wedding. Just so happens that Chrissy asks "Best Man" and also very single florist Eddie to arrange said flowers for their wedding. Somehow in their three years, Steve and Eddie haven't met until now.

Read also on ao3

“Okay, make sure that he’s just done it right, I mean I trust Eddie- Chrissy trusts the guy, and I trust Chris, but please, Steve, for the love of God, I will lose my goddamn mind if the flowers are wrong, I will just- I’ll-I’ll-!”

“Robin!” Steve shouts over the phone the second he gets the chance. “Robin, Jesus, breathe. I’ve got the pictures you sent me. I will inspect the arrangements. I will not harass him, he’s just a flower guy.”

“Well, he’s not just- you know what, I’ll do that later. Okay, thank you, dingus.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I’ve got this handled. You go get back to your nails, okay? I’ll see you later tonight. Bye, Robbie, love you!” Steve says, yanking open the door to the flower shop, the sign flashing Your Bedroom’s Garden, and entering as he hangs up on Robin.

The shop isn’t what he’d been expecting. The neon sign outside is hot pink with a few little yellow sparkles. Inside is a different story. It’s a long room, two walls are sage green and the other two are black like the floors and ceiling. Vines drape down the black walls while the green are covered in little shelves with examples and decorations for bouquets. Every other surface in the building is covered in water buckets of cuttings, planted pots, pots for sale themselves. Steve is overwhelmed by the amount of clean air in one room.

“Hi, welcome in! Be right with you!” Someone from deeper in the shop calls out so Steve idles by the desk. There’s a small commotion before a man appears, dressed in a cut off tank and ripped skinny jeans with a small horseshoe ring hanging from his nose. More of what Steve had not been expecting. “Hey! What can I do for ya?”

“Hello, uh I’m picking up an order for Buckley- might be under Harrington if she listed an alternate- yeah,” Steve says with a light smile.

“Ah, so you’re the hottie that she said would be coming,” the man laughs, the high ponytail of curls perched atop his head swaying a little. Steve can’t help the flush that heats his cheeks. “Follow me, I’ve got it all organized in the back.”

Steve does as he’s told, shuffling behind the guy and into a bright room with a garage door on the far end. He doesn’t notice he’s twisting his hands together until the pressure starts to hurt.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Nice to meet you, Harrington.”

“Steve,” he corrects, watching Eddie stall in his approach to the buckets of flowers.

“Alright, Steve,” Eddie grins. “Well, everything’s here if you want to give it a once over. We’ve got the centerpieces over here in the light blue buckets. Bouquets for the party in the white ones. The smaller one there is for the boutonnières, there’s a package inside with the little glass vial pins for them. And then that pink vase has the flowers for the bridal hair.”

Steve can hardly keep up with everything Eddie’s saying, he also hadn’t expected for Robin and Chrissy to be so thorough with their floral choices. Nevertheless he pulls out his phone and starts matching things up to the trial photos they’d went with. “Sorry, Robin would kill me if the flowers were wrong.”

“I understand, I’ve had my fair share of assholes because they themselves didn’t confirm with me so I prefer a second opinion. When you’ve got it all checked out you can pull your car around to the door here and I’ll help you load them up.”

“They’re beautiful,” Steve says as he works mindlessly, pulling at a periwinkle blue bloom shaped like a firework.

“Yeah, that one’s got a funky name. One of my favorites. Called scabiosa. Or a pincushion flower if you wanna be a little less fun,” Eddie says.

It takes just another two minutes before Steve decides the flowers are as perfect as they could be and back his truck into the loading space. Eddie’s got gloves on now, dragging the buckets out into the sun. The flowers start to really light up and Steve gets butterflies thinking about the wedding tomorrow. Robin in her suit that he’d helped her pick, Chrissy in her dress with petit flowers snuggled into her braid. God, he was definitely going to cry.

“Nice truck,” Eddie comments as they load up the first few buckets of flowers. He gestures to the mud splatters on the tires and edge of the bed. “Work outside?”

“I guess you could say that,” he shrugs, shoving another bunch of flowers up with the rest. A few pieces of hair obviously from Eddie’s bangs have started to weasel loose of the tie and Steve can’t help but notice. He swallows his tongue. “I own a restaurant but we do a lot of farm to table work.”

“Hell yeah,” Eddie grins, ducking back into the garage for a bundle of tule which he begins to wrap around the flowers already in the truck. “I’ll have to come by sometime. What’s the name?”

“It’s kind of dumb actually,” Steve laughs and watches Eddie work at securing everything gently. “Farm’s Ahoy.”

“That is kind of dumb,” he laughs too. “But cute.”

“It was an inside joke and seemed like a good idea. I mean, I don’t regret it.”

“No, why should you? I named the shop after a joke too. My best friend from high school used to say my bedroom smelled and looked like a garden- but meant two very different things about it.”

“Oh?” It sounds silly, something so simple and soaked with curiosity leaving his mouth but Steve can’t help it. He steps a little closer to Eddie as if instinctively wanting the answer.

“Yeah, I used to smoke a lot of weed in my room growing up,” He chuckles and hops down from the truck bed. Steve sincerely can’t help the twist in his gut that he gets from watching him do so, all lean and lithe muscle. “But I still loved plants back then. Had less than I do now but it was my private garden, both legal and il.”

“That- I actually really like that joke,” Steve grins and leans up against the side of his truck. “Well, now I think I have to explain too.”

“I think so.” Eddie crosses his arms with a smug look. Steve wants to kiss it off his face, but that’s not something you just do to strangers. Not in broad daylight at least.

“My best friend and I- from high school too actually- we worked at this ice cream shop called Scoops Ahoy when we were in college- I dropped out and Robin finished but whatever. So we worked there and it was this whole thing, little sailor outfits and hats. The whole shebang. So after I bought my current property and started a vegetable garden, then wanted to open the restaurant, we spat a few names around and when she said Farm’s Ahoy I just knew I had too. We were high too, at that point, so it definitely seemed funnier.”

“That’s just perfection, Steve.” Eddie’s laughing and shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand to see Steve better. “I’ll definitely be by sometime soon then.”

“Yes, please, I’ll put your name on a list,” Steve says, as if a list is something he even has.

“Thanks.” Eddie kicks his feet a little and for the first time in their interactions he looks bashful. “Well, I think you’re all set.”

“I uh, I’ve still gotta pay,” Steve reminds him.

“No, this is a gift to the bride from me,” Eddie says with a grin. He takes a few steps back as if to retreat into his safe space again before briefly surging toward Steve to offer up a card. “Text me if anything goes wrong.”

“Will do. Thank you, Eddie, this is very sweet of you.”

“Yeah, well, I try,” he says and soon disappears behind the closing garage door.

Steve tries not to dwell on any of his time at Your Bedroom’s Garden very long, lest he slip into an infatuation with Eddie’s brown eyes and sweat curled hair. Instead he unloads the flowers into his own garage where they’ll sleep overnight before being hauled again down to his barn.

Steve’s property spans across 50 some acres. There’s two barns, one for the livestock and farming and one that he rents out or hosts events in. Then there’s the restaurant beside them, a full dining floor and decked out kitchen. In the far corner down a long gravel road situated away from the public side of his property is the farm house. It’s as large as the rest of his buildings, with 7 guest rooms and 10 (mostly half) bathrooms all for the chance that he gets to host gatherings. Dustin ends up at the farm the most, stays for the summer months and pitches in when he’s off school. Sometimes the other boys Steve used to shepard in his babysitting days, Mike or Lucas with their girlfriends and on the odd occasion Will, stop by for a few days at a time.

Steve agonizes over texting the number Eddie provided him in the few hours before his guests arrive. How is it that the wedding is a day away and he still doesn’t have a date? In the end he settles on leaving the number in his bedside drawer for another occasion. The house fills quickly as dusk arrives and, for the first time since July Fourth last year, Steve’s home is full of light and laughter and easily flowing rosé. His heart feels just as full as he wraps his arm around his best friends.

The big day kicks off earlier than he’d prefer. The photographer and videographer are the first to the scene, followed quickly by the hair and makeup team. Steve does his best to stay by Robin’s side but by the time her mother and Vickie and the other girls are ready and Robin’s up to be dressed Steve takes his que to slip out. He’s careful with his shoes on his walk to the barn, where Dustin’s already dragged the flowers. There’s a few crew tutting around the building that Steve doesn’t recognize but assumes their part of the planners team as they arrange plates and seating.

“I don’t know! Talk to Steve about that!” Dustin shouts from where the small stage has been set up. Steve rolls his eyes as he approaches.

“Alright, alright, what’s the problem?”

Steve stops dead in his tracks when the person Dustin had been arguing with turns around. His hair is down, curly bangs perfectly fanning across his forehead and brushing his eyebrows. Steve risks a glance up and down his body, taking in the dark green of his suit and steel toed boots. His mouth goes dry when Eddie shoots him a knowing smirk.

“Kid here says there’s no amp hookup.”

“I did not, I said that there’s no hookups right here! I’m not in charge of the live music.”

“Check the attitude,” Steve gripes at him, covering his face with a palm. “Uhm, well, are you the Chrissy's best man?”

“As accused.” Eddie nods.

“Alright. Cool, cool. Okay.” Now he understands what the pretty guy from the flower shop is doing here. Steve takes a deep breath and points at Dustin. “This is a you problem now. Find Tommy, please, get him to pull all the stage equipment out and let’s try to find something for what music needs, yeah?”

“But I was just on audio for the speecheses only-”

“Shithead, you’re graduating next year with a degree in audio-what-the-fuck-ever. Get it in gear and find what’s missing.” Dustin opens and closes his mouth a few times before shaking his head and skittering off on his new mission. Steve turns his full attention to Eddie, swallowing hard. “So.”

“So?”

“I did not expect you to be here. Today.”

Eddie laughs heartily, pushing a chunk of hair off his shoulder. Steve’s face gets hotter and he wants to shrivel up and disappear into the collar of his blazer. “No, I guess you didn’t.”

“Sorry about Dustin.”

“It’s okay. I like his spunk.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “I have never heard someone describe him as having spunk.”

“It’s an endearing trait.”

“Okay, great. Don’t let him know you’re a fan.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie grins. “So I see the flowers aren't out yet?”

“The flowers are my job. Had to be with Robin up until the dress got on, but I’m here now. Why are you down here?”

“Chrissy said the guy on flowers might’ve needed a little help.”

“Right, okay,” Steve huffs. His brain cells start to wake up and he’s getting why he’d been sent to pick up the arrangements in the first place. “Do you see what they’re doing too?”

“Yeah. Master manipulators.”

There’s two thoughts that cross Steve’s mind in a moment's time. He could brush this off, ask to act normally and prove that the happy couple need to keep their noses out of other people’s business. He could accept the date and ask Eddie to dance once the band arrives. He could, if he used enough brain power, convince his brain cells to kick into high gear and spontaneously combust. Maybe not so much on that one.

“Well, since you’re here,” Steve says and starts for the flower buckets across the barn. “I probably could use a hand. Follow me.”

Steve gets a thrill up his spine when Eddie does follow, tight on his heels. They swap Chrissy and Robin stories as they drop bundles of flowers into the vases Chrissy had procured just months after they’d been engaged. Their laughs sound good together. Eddie explains how he’d opened his shop with his uncle after an accident at work left Wayne laid up with a good payout. Eddie had done all the heavy lifting, overhauling a vacant office studio into his dream. Wayne did some training online and learned quickly how to run the numbers and orders.

“Yeah, y’know, it’s pretty perfect. I just don’t have my own greenhouse yet.”

“I can lend you one.”

“What?” Eddie’s hand stalls on the last vase, almost knocking it over. Steve reaches out to stabilize it, hands firmly covering Eddie’s own. Both their faces are the same beet red as one of that night's sauces. He hadn’t exactly thought through his offer before it left his mouth.

“I mean, I’ve got four of them. I can make some room in one- actually, yeah we moved the squash over by the compost pile so. Plenty of room.”

“Steve I don’t- how much do you want for it?”

“Oh, no,” Steve shakes his head, pulling his hands away and cracking his knuckles. Money talk always makes him a little nauseous. “Free of charge. So long as I get some pretty flowers out of it too.”

“I’ll grow you the prettiest damn flowers you’ve ever seen, Steve Harrington.”

Steve likes how that promise sounds, especially when Eddie shakes his hand.

They finish soon after, both making the short trek back up to the farm house to check on their corresponding brides and knocking elbows the whole way. Steve’s voice gets caught in his throat when Robin pins his boutonnière to his lapel.

“Are you having a good day?” She asks and tucks a short curl behind her ear, exposing the pearl earrings he knows her grandmother gifted her.

“Yeah,” He says earnestly with tears in his eyes. Nothing could have prepared him for the emotions in his heart seeing Robin ready to start her next phase.“Yeah, Robs. It’s a beautiful day.”

Steve can’t help but make eye contact with Eddie through the service, especially since they’re both up by the altar. Eddie shoots him a wink when the officiant declares them unified in marriage. They kiss, and giggle, and dash back down the aisle that is simple grass. Steve’s on the brink of full on crying. The videographer follows them back up to the hill and Steve has to clock in to his maid-of-honor duties again. He ushers everyone from their seats outside in to the barn with the promise of food, drinks, and a lovely reception. He loses track of Eddie in the process.

There’s a bit of disappointment when Steve still can’t locate him by the time Chrissy and Robin are back in their new dresses. It lingers in his bones until he announces the first dance and, after a bit of applause, the sound of acoustic guitar flows through the amps he’d given a once over a few hours ago to confirm they’d work. Eddie is standing beside them again, guitar in his arms and microphone held a few inches from his face by a stand.

Against his suggestions, the girls had decided on Shania Twain (You’re Still the One) as their first dance. Even last night if you’d asked Steve how he felt about that decision he may have implied a bit of disagreement. But now, comparing Eddie’s song to the original, he understands their choice. It’s a meaningful song and artist for them both. The lyrics, as told by a close friend, seem to hold a new weight in Steve’s ears.

It’s a beautiful arrangement that leaves him with twice as many questions as he’d gone into it with. There’s a small instrumental break towards the end, where Robin had given Steve a few more instructions: the only thing keeping his head tethered to the ground.

“Alright, everyone, now’s our time to join the happy couple on the dance floor,” He says into the mic, crossing the floor to be closer to where Eddie’s still performing. He can hear him better over here, that’s all. Robin and Chrissy’s family and friends slowly shuffle out to finish the song.

Eddie’s voice is gentle as he finishes out the last few lines of Shania Twain before swapping songs and morphing into something much raspier, with a little more swing. “I’m so glad we made it, look how far we’ve come my…baby! It’s been a long day, baby, things ain’t been going my way, you know I need you here…”

Steve watches Eddie watch his guitar, making sure his fingers are in just the right spot before considering the crowd and the microphone again. It was a song Steve had thrown into the first dance hat himself. You Are the Best Thing, Ray LaMontagne. A song his mother used to dance around the kitchen with him to. He’s got starry tears in his eyes again when Robin catches his gaze and blows him a kiss.

The song is over almost as soon as it started and Steve is the first to applaud. Eddie’s grinning down the stage at him and after he’s sure his guitar is settled into its cradle he’s leaping off it toward Steve. The DJ takes his place quickly.

“You didn’t tell me you could sing. I guess I should have assumed but-”

“They told me not to,” Eddie shrugs with a goofy grin. “Said it’d just make you like me more.”

Steve knows he should feel embarrassed but can’t find it in himself to. “They put you up to this, huh?”

“A little bit.” Eddie tucks the guitar pick he’d been fidgeting with into the pocket of his jacket and straightens. “Is it working?”

“You know,” Steve starts. He tries to put together something that can at least feign a little annoyance. But in their defense, Steve had asked Robin to find him a date and though this wasn’t the typical approach he sure couldn’t argue with their pick. He’d been sold the second he stepped foot into that damn flower shop. “More than I think any of you could have expected.”

Eddie pumps his fist in the air, an unsaid ‘score!’ hanging between them. Then he bends at the waist, hair flowing in sheets down over his shoulder and Steve suddenly wants to know what it feels like between his fingers, and offers out his hand with a mischievous look. “Might I have this dance, good sir?”

Steve plucks the smallest scabiosa from his boutonnière with one hand and takes Eddie’s outstretched with the other. When Eddie rises, he tucks the flower into the hair in front of Eddie’s ear. His hunch had been right, his curls were soft and Eddie’s cheeks did look good in a crimson blush.

“You may.”

[yikes-em]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

What You Need For Today

Week #3 Prompt: Flowers | Word Count: 1400 | Rating: T | POV: Lucas | Pairings: Lucas/Max | Characters: Lucas, Dustin, Steve, Erica, Max | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Recovering, Buying Flowers, Dustin Has Opinions (Doesn't He Always), Hospital Visits, Always the Goddamn Babysitter Steve (But He Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way)

Looking through the glass door of the cooler, Dustin at his side, Lucas checks out all his options. They all kind of look the same to him, to be honest. Different colors aside, they are just flowers wrapped in paper or arranged in vases. 

He can't stand here forever, so he opens the door and reaches for the nearest bouquet, one wrapped in a pale blue.

"That looks like it's for a new baby! She didn't have a baby!" Dustin snaps, shoving him out of the way. Lucas moves away from the door, willingly. He isn't sure what he should pick, doesn't have the brain power left to decide, so any help, even if it's just Dustin steamrolling him, will be better than nothing.

Dustin is rifling through the options, touching them all far too rough, and Lucas doesn't want to be associated with this at all. The florist isn't looking, isn't paying any attention to either of them, but Lucas is not in the mood to be yelled at. Not today.

The place has had a steady stream of customers, in and out, and he assumes that's because so many people are still hurt, still grieving, after the town was ripped to shreds. And those who stayed need to do something, anything, to feel like they're helping. And buying flowers, that's normal, a relic remaining from before.

He understands that, deeply.

Dustin is still making a spectacle of choosing, so Lucas looks over his shoulder, and sees Erica sitting on the bench by the door of the shop, feet scuffing against the tile of the floor, ever so slightly. Uncharacteristically quiet. The way she's been since, well, since. He wishes she'd get up and come over and have an opinion just as strong as Dustin's.

Embarrass him, shame him, anything.

But she doesn't.

"You need to get these," Dustin finally declares, picking up a huge bundle of red roses.

"I can't afford those," Lucas hisses, because while he doesn't know the price, he knows they are damn well out of his price range. His allowance is good, but it's not that good.

"Can you put a price on love?" Dustin asks, like it's that simple.

Lucas takes the flowers from him, and puts them back, "Not those. Someday. But not today."

Dustin rolls his eyes, "Fine. Be a dumbass. See if I care."

And Lucas just stares through the glass, again. Still unsure. 

He isn't sure how long he's stood there, mulling, unable to choose, when he hears from behind them, "What are you little dickheads doing here?" 

Oh, thank god. Steve. 

Maybe he can rein in Dustin, or at the very least, distract him.

"What are you doing here?" Dustin crows, like he's caught Steve doing something he shouldn't be. 

"None of your business, you little twerp. And I asked you first," Steve says, and Dustin is getting wound up, Lucas can see it.

"Help me pick flowers for Max," Lucas says in a rush, cutting Dustin off before he has the chance to derail this opportunity.

"Well, you can't go wrong with red roses," Steve says, and Dustin throws his hands up in an 'I told you so' motion. 

That's not enough for Dustin, it never is, he has to rub salt in the wound, given an opportunity, so Dustin adds, "I told you so."

"I know, I know," Lucas says, conceding, "but I don't think that's, uh, exactly, right," Lucas says, "for the…occasion."

And Steve nods, like he's understanding what Lucas is laying down.

"Of course, you're totally right," Steve agrees, arm draped over his shoulders as he's standing next to him, also looking, while Dustin prances around impatiently. 

Lucas is leaning towards the yellow bouquet. It's pretty, and bright, and would really liven up Max's hospital room. Even if she can't see it. Even if she'll never know it's there.

When he brings her red roses, he wants her to know it.

"How about the yellow?" Steve asks, finger pushed against the glass, pointing at the arrangement that Lucas was contemplating.

"That's what I was thinking," Lucas admits, happy to have confirmation that it's a good pick.

"Max will love them," Steve says, and reaches in and plucks them out of the cooler, handing them to Lucas, then demands, "Henderson, go get him a blank get well soon card from the counter."

Dustin grumbles about it, but blunders away.

Once he's gone, Steve's voice is low, "You got enough, Sinclair? If not, I can loan you some cash."

It's nice. Steve is really Dustin's friend. Or even Erica's, in a weird way. But he still shows up when he's needed, and it hasn't gone unnoticed. 

"Thanks, Steve. But I think I do."

And Steve just nods, turning back towards the cooler, reaching in and grabbing a big bundle of the red roses.

Dustin reappears, and they both stare at Steve.

Steve looks back at them, "What are you little shitheads looking at? It's a classic, and I like what I like. You don't mess with what works."

"And red roses? They work?" Lucas asks.

"I told you that, asshole," Dustin says, adding his two cents, yet again. 

"For some occasions they definitely do, but these yellow ones? That's what you need for today," Steve reassures, and Lucas puffs out his chest, feeling happier, more confident about his decision. 

They both pay, and on the way out, Steve stops in front of Erica and pulls one of the roses out of the bouquet in his hand, holding it out for her to take. She rolls her eyes, but gives him a smile, and it's one of the few Lucas has seen her offer up in days, weeks.

Erica takes the rose, and Steve lowers his hand over her head, like he's going to touch her hair. Lucas wouldn't recommend it, but she takes care of herself, like always.

"Watch it, nerd," she says, batting his hand away, and Steve stops short of touching her, but he's made her happy. Lucas can tell, and he wishes he'd have thought of it first. Maybe it wouldn't have been the same, coming from him, her brother. Maybe it had to come from Steve Harrington, the ringleader of her beloved Scoops Troop.

"Good thing you showed up, we need a ride home," Dustin demands, not asking, never asking. 

"Maybe I have other places to be, Henderson. You ever think of that?" Steve snarks at him, holding up the roses, but he still unlocks his car, letting them all inside. Erica puts on her seatbelt beside him in the backseat, clutching the stem of the rose in her hands, looking out the window.

Lucas wonders when, if, things will ever go back to normal.

Dustin and Steve banter in the front seat, lobbing barbs back and forth that are familiar and normal, so Lucas supposes that's a start, at least.

Later that afternoon, Erica standing at his back, Lucas pauses in the doorway of the hospital room, listening to the steady beeps of all the machines keeping Max alive. The vase of yellow flowers in one hand, a new Stephen King book in the other. This time, he checked out Skeleton Crew from the library. It's a short story collection, and he likes the idea of having something new, something fresh, to read to her everyday during visiting hours. 

A new story for a new day.

She's still asleep, body still broken and trying to mend, and it squeezes at his heart. He doesn't know when they'll let her try to wake up. How long it might be, even if it has already felt like forever. Her hair is braided to the side, bold red against the white pillow, and that means El must have been here earlier. 

The vinyl creaks as Erica sits down on the couch behind him. She's been a near constant presence at his side since the Creel house. She goes where he goes, and he honestly has no complaints.

He places the flowers on Max's end table, and scoots the chair up as close to her bed as he can get it. Once he's situated, he cracks open the book, smoothing his hands over the borrowed pages, holding it in his lap, as he begins to read.

"This is what happened. On the night that the worst heat wave in northern New England history finally broke..."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: The end book snippet is from The Mist, the first entry in Skeleton Crew.

[yikes-em]

Nap Away

For @astrangersummer week 2: afternoon nap

steddie | 976 words | gen/no warnings | college/modern

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Tuesdays and Wednesdays are Steve’s weekends. He’s a hairstylist, a junior one at that, and works Thursday through to Monday. He and Eddie have no overlapping days off, Eddie’s from the bar falling on Sunday and Mondays, but Steve has his Tuesdays and Wednesdays. He goes grocery shopping, gives the plants of his their weekly watering should their routine require, doctor and dentists appointments. This Wednesday so happens to be Steve’s rare empty day. He’s already run the dishwasher and laundry, both audibly going in the kitchen. The bathroom is clean, they’d already agreed on pizza for dinner so no need for prep. Everything was right in the world. One glance at the clock told Steve, nested into a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch with a book, that Eddie should be home from his noon class shortly. The sound of keys in the doorknob confirmed that fact not even five minutes later.

“Heey, Stevie,” Eddie hums, bag dropping to the ground by their door as he toes his shoes off.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Steve muses back, dogearing the page. He pushes his glasses to the top of his head. “How was class?”

Eddie holds a finger to his lips with closed eyes. Steve understands. “I’ve gotta be back on campus in a few hours.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Right, thank you,” Steve hums. He adjusts his body to make room on the couch and tucks his book under the pillow beside him. “Sorry I forgot. How can I help you?”

Eddie blushes, kicking his feet up a little as he steps further into the living room to the beat of the music Steve’s got playing through the TV. He speaks through a yawn-- “I dunno.”

“Sleepy?”

“Yeah.”

“Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Need to do any work before class?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Eddie grins when his shins hit the couch. Steve reaches up for Eddie’s hips with both hands, holds him firmly, and presses a gentle kiss through his shirt just under Eddie’s belly button. “Whatcha reading?”

“Still trying to get through Watership Down.”

“Fuck yeah, baby, let me know if there’s anymore words you need help with?”

Steve nods. He moves his hands from Eddie’s sides up to grab his hands, tugging down at him. Eddie understands, sitting where Steve’s made space for him. Eddie yawns again and goes where he’s pulled until he’s flush against Steve’s body. The warmth on the couch grows as the shifting sun hits the front window just right and flashes rainbows through the lounge. It’s beautiful and safe and most importantly, theirs.

“How’s your day been, love?”

“Calm,” Steve hums lightly as he cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair. The dark green block of color taking up the left half of his bangs would be ready to be colored in the next few weeks, with his roots grown out a half inch already, but currently it was a tonedeaf and seasick teal. Sometimes Steve would find himself overcritical of his work, particularly on Eddie. Now, like it had been in the short months they’d been living together, his mind was quiet. Steve picked apart a few curls that clumped densely together.

“Good,” Eddie says, yawning yet again.

“When do you need to leave?”

Eddie takes a peek across the room at the same clock Steve had. “Class is at 5, I’ll be out at 6:15, I think. So leave around 4:30?”

“I’ll drop you off, we can leave quarter till. Go on and nap a bit, Eds.”

“You’re so chivalrous,” Eddie grins like a dope up at Steve. He nuzzles into Steve’s shirt, nose poking through the space between the buttons. Steve lets out a breathy giggle and pushes his face back. “I’m so lucky!”

“Yeah, you are.”

“You sure you’re comfortable?” Eddie asks, voice turning soft and genuine.

“Well, here, hang on.” Steve slides out from under Eddie with only a few grumbles, returning a minute later with a fresh glass of water and a small bowl of pre-cut strawberries with powdered sugar on top. Eddie whines again when he’s forced to hold himself up enough for Steve to return to his previous spot, but is quickly soothed by a few strawberries and a kiss on the head. “Alright, now we’re good. Nap away, my love.”

“I need to be up by 4 at least…” Eddie mumbles, all but a whisper. Steve nods as he wraps his arm around Eddie and pulls him close. He doesn’t wake Eddie until 4:15, a solid two hour nap in Steve’s opinion, with a kind nudge of his knee and kiss above Eddie’s ear after returning Watership Down to the coffee table. Eddie rouses slowly with a pathetic whine.

“Steeevieeeee,” He cries, wriggling around on Steve’s lap. “Sleeeeepyyyy…!”

“I know, baby,” Steve hums and shifts again so Eddie has no comfortable resting spot anymore. He sits up and rubs aggressively at his eyes. “Come on, tie your hair up and we can take a quick shower before I drop you off.”

“Hot?” Eddie peeks out from behind his knuckles.

“Yeah, Eds,” he laughs softly, already reaching for the hair tie around Eddie’s wrist. “Now, hop up, let’s go.”

Steve doesn’t even have time to dry his hair before they have to rush off, Eddie making it to class exactly on time. If they’d gotten a little carried away in the shower, who can blame them? But by the time Eddie returns home again there’s a hot meat lovers pizza on the coffee table, an episode of Jeopardy queued on TV, and Steve perched yet again in the middle of a blanket puddle on the couch. There’s no disagreements when Eddie further investigates and finds Steve in one of Eddie’s old band hoodies and just his boxers, limp hair sending thin clumps of waves over his forehead. Yeah, Eddie’s a lucky guy.

[yikes-em]

Blush Sands

For @astrangersummer week 1: nail polish

steddie | 1154 words | gen/no warnings | post s4 everyone lives

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Below cut formatted for ao3

When Steve had asked Eddie about his fingernails, nothing could have prepared him for what it would set off. Eddie’s eyes lit up in the middle of Family Video and he gripped harder onto Steve’s hand that had pulled his painted nails into the light in the first place.

The explanation had come with Max at his trailer a few nights ago, her mom long asleep after a grueling work day had apologetically canceled on their ‘girls night’. So she’d slipped from her window with a few bottles of polish and knocked on his screen door. Eddie, at first a little aback at being her first choice and then fully clocked when she mentioned seeing Eddie doing his eyeliner in his van before scrambling off to see a concert in Indy, agreed. If Max was going to walk around with yellow fingernails they’d be the cleanest damn paint job ever.

So now here’s Steve, sitting in the middle of another ‘girls night’ at Eddie’s trailer. Said host is in the kitchen stirring Shirley Temples for Max and El with one hand and a large pot of mac n’ cheese with the other. Robin, having drank half and promptly forgotten her own very spiked Shirley, is crouched in front of El on the couch and painting little purple squiggles over pale blue. Max is leaning out of Wayne’s recliner with her fingers dug into Robin’s hair, deftly trying to tuck it into little braids. Her nails are yet to be done but she’s chosen the color. Bright pink this time.

Steve has three bottles in his hand. A deep maroon that reminds him of his car, a fleshy yet shiny pink tone, and a teal blue the color his pool was growing up in the summer. He’s staring so hard at them that he doesn’t have time to prepare for Eddie bumping hips with him as he settles back on the couch between Steve and El. He’s got a bowl big with enough mac n’ cheese for them both with two spoons precariously balanced on his lap while offering out a beer.

“Drink?”

“Thanks,” Steve hums, dumping the little bottles on his lap to accept the beer.

“Hungry?” Eddie’s speaking so low that the girls don’t even seem to acknowledge them. Steve nods and hefts a spoonful into his mouth and washes it down in one breath. Eddie makes another noise, something like casual, genuine awe. Steve can feel it where their bodies touch.

“Very,” Steve says around another mouthful of pasta.

“Mm,” Eddie hums as his gaze drifts down Steve’s face, his neck and chest, and finally rests in Steve’s lap. Steve has half a mind to let his face flush when he remembers the nail polish “Need help deciding?”

“Yeah, I uh… I’ve never had a choice on something like this. I know it’s not permanent but it feels like something that matters more than just putting on a shirt for the day.”

“No, you’re right,” Eddie says, leaning into Steve a little more. He grabs gently at the bottles and turns them so he can read the shades. “Merlot is very date night. Mysterious but sexy. A solid choice.”

Steve enjoys the thought of Eddie painting his nails for a date, wonders what color Eddie would paint them if it were a date that Steve asked him on.

“Ah, blush sands, a classic. Casual, doesn’t draw much attention. It’s more for you to know and feel pretty in,” Eddie continues. Steve hadn’t thought about which color his eyes would be drawn to while checking in returns at work, or potentially ringing up customers.

“Lagoon.” Steve can sense the unsaid creature-from-the-black prefix and snorts out a laugh. “Summery, bright, attention seeking, fun.”

“Doesn’t really narrow it down, huh?” Steve groans and shifts his hips so not only do the little bottles brush together and make cute clinking noises but so do his and Eddie’s thighs. It’s a solid touch and Steve feels his mouth water for something. He satiates with a beer.

“Are you asking me to decide for you?”

Robin cackles at something Max says and the fond smile it brings to Steve’s face hurts. Seeing his people happy, after everything they’ve been through, is all he could ever want in the world. El is waving her hands in the air to dry her new designs and leans over Eddie to show them both.

“Look! Like the roller rink’s floor!” She beams. “Robin made them perfect!”

“I don’t know about perfect-” Robin scratches at her nose sheepishly but Steve can see the pride in her eyes.

“Damn perfect!” Eddie shouts, bouncing in his spot. “I call after Max! I want flowers Rob- ones with little yellow dots in the middle!”

“Jesus christ, who do you take me for?”

“A goddamn artist,” Eddie grins and blows her a kiss. It’s hard to tell if the red in Robin’s cheeks is from how hard she’s laughing or from the alcohol. Max and El swap spots, El simply twisting bits of Robin’s hair in on itself until she winces or it pops free. Eddie turns his full attention back to Steve and it sends a shiver down his knees.

“I’ll pick two, you take it from there?”

Steve nods, spoon in mouth again.

“I think Lagoon is a little daring for your first time. Could give you some weird feelings.”

“Okay.” Steve doesn’t even think to ask what might constitute weird feelings. “Okay, then I think blush sands. It’s not too far off what my nails look like anyway- in case I hate it.”

“Good job,” Eddie beams, snatching up the two unchosen bottles and stashing them away in the shoe box on the table. “You’ll definitely look cute in that one.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles and ducks his chin to his chest. “Uh… how do I… how do I start?”

“Oh shit, Stevie, yeah, here let me!” Eddie transplants his beer and the mac n’ cheese to the coffee table and pivots his whole body so they’re facing. “Gimme.”

Eddie takes the bottle of blush sands and cracks it open, gesturing for Steve to hold out his hand. It probably only takes about ten minutes maximum for Eddie to get two coats on each of Steve’s blunt nails but it’s long enough for Steve to finish both their beers and get pleasantly buzzed on the liquor and the smell of Eddie’s cologne.

“Pretty,” Eddie hums when he’s done, holding Steve’s hand up in the dingy lighting. His gaze drifts over his hand, up along his arm where Steve knows he has visible bat scars pulling taught over his muscles, resting finally on his face- his eyes. Steve blinks a few times and wets his lips. Eddie imitates the action. “Yeah, pretty.”

In that moment, Steve decides that he’d do anything asked of him for the rest of his life if Eddie would call him pretty.

[yikes-em]

every single day I think about how american black vultures are known for engaging in allopreening (preening between different species)

and they have a specific relationship with crested caracaras, in which the black vultures assist them by not only preening them after meals but also leading them to food in the first place— due to their superior sense of smell— while the caracaras assist the black vultures by acting as a warning signal in case of danger

and while this is more typical of black vultures, this is not common at all for any member of the falconidae family— it’s a special bond!

yet another post in favor of vultures everyone , hope you enjoy:) and I implore you to do some more research on these incredible birds !!

[yikes-em]

look at me. listen to me. this is directed at americans for the record. the reason you think North American animals are boring is because you live here. there are so many cool and beautiful animals here. we have beavers. we have wolves. we have moose. we have sea lions. we have armadillos. we have mountain lions. we have alligators. we have foxes. we have bighorn sheep. we have manatees. we have bears. we have ocelots. we have BISON. and that’s not even touching on the birds! or the turtles! or the snakes! we have amazing beautiful and diverse wildlife right here and it deserves to be appreciated and protected

[yikes-em]

listen. l i s t e n. listen. kudos does not equal quality. popularity does not equal quality. i have read some “fandom classics” that i could barely fathom how boring or terrible i - personally - found them, and i have stumbled across some absolute gems that didn’t even break 100 kudos. 

what is good doesn’t always get the recognition it deserves. it’s sad, but true. just because you haven’t - or possibly never take - off in fandom doesn’t mean your work isn’t astounding and beautiful, it doesn’t mean you should stop writing; it just means that a very select corner of the internet missed the diamond in the rough. 

fanfiction is flooded with content, there are so many of us out there producing it these days, and having a fic that takes off is almost as much about luck as it is about talent. never let a few artificial numbers on the internet dictate to you what is and isn’t worthy writing. 

additionally, you don’t have to read or enjoy fics just bcs they’re big. i cannot count the amount of times i’ve read the first paragraph of something fandom adores and immediatly exited out of it.

just… do what makes you happy. write what you wanna write, read what you wanna read. understand that while we all want recognition - and some deserve it more than others - we did not get into fanfiction for that recognition.

recognition is good, but sometimes we get all tangled up chasing it and stop enjoying writing and reading and fandom as a whole along the way. be careful of that, please, or you’ll burn yourself out.