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cherrydreamer · 2 years

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🎃Harringrove Harvest- Day 1- Candy Corn 🎃

It's been a few months since Starcourt. Long enough that most of the gossip and rumours have died down, but still far too soon for Billy Hargrove to be anywhere close to being released from hospital.

So that's where he is, battered and bruised and bed-bound, when Hopper comes to visit him- with El and Max in tow as usual- the police chief looking even more serious than usual when he sits down on the plastic chair beside Billy's bed and delivers the news that Neil Hargrove has skipped out of town, loading up his truck and disappearing into the middle of the night, leaving a whole stack of unpaid bills and a ton of trouble for Susan to have to deal with.

And it all hits Billy like a ton of bricks. Another punch right through a heart that's still not quite healed.

Cause, yeah, he knows that Neil Hargrove is an asshole with a cruel streak a mile wide, and he knows that he spent enough time hating his old man and wishing for something just like this to happen, but it's still not that simple. It's not black and white. Despite it all, the fear and the pain and the way Neil's voice is always in the back of Billy's mind, criticising and mocking him, despite all of that, Neil is his father. His Dad. And nothing can change the fact that he's still the guy that taught Billy how to throw a fastball and how to change the oil in his car and who told him he was proud of him when Billy made the basketball team.

He's still his Dad. And Billy still loves him.

And now he's fucked off. Without even a goodbye. Without even a word. Billy's been left behind. Forgotten about again. And it hurts.

So Billy's struggling.

As much as he's trying to stay calm, to shove all his emotion down and lock it away, he knows he's about to break. And then he catches sight of Max and El's faces, both of them with expressions that Billy can only read as pity, and it's just too much, and Billy can't stop himself from yelling at them to get out, pointing at the door when the words just catch in his throat and come out rough and raspy and barely understandable.

They get it. They leave.

But the Chief doesn't. He doesn't leave. If anything, he shuffles himself even closer, the chair squeaking against the linoleum floor, one hand hovering in the air just for a moment, before he thinks better of it and draws it back. And Billy tries his best to pull himself together, blinking back the tears he can feel gathering and swallowing down the ache in his throat and shaking his head to dislodge all those swirling, churning, painful thoughts that just won't stop coming.

He tries to deal with it. Because he needs to. He can be a man about this, he's got to be. He's on his own now and he'd better get used to it.

But then Hop's voice is softening, and this time when he reaches out, he doesn't stop until he's resting a hand on Billy's shoulder and squeezing firmly, "Hey, look Billy, I'm sorry, it's, uh, it's all kinds of messed up, what your old man did. But we'll work this out, OK, kid? You don't gotta worry. We'll help you out, whatever you need."

But Billy shakes his head, scrubbing angrily at the tears that have spilled over despite his attempts to hold them in and he says, "It's fine. I don't need...I'll be fine. I can look after myself."

Only for Hop to look at him, voice softer than Billy's ever heard it before, and say, "I know you can, Billy, but this time you don't have to."

And Billy knows that he's crumbling. He can feel it, that sudden rush of emotion all bubbling forth. But he can hold on, he can, he has to, he will. So he tears his eyes away from Hopper's face, not wanting to see any more fucking pity directed his way, but no matter where Billy looks, he can't help but see the evidence of the Chief's words.

It's there in the books on the table by his bed, a stack two feet high of sci-fi and fantasy novels, all loans from the kids, interspersed with some car magazines donated by Hopper himself. It's there in the Tupperware box beside them full of brownies made with love by Claudia Henderson, the sixth batch she's sent this month and these ones all dotted with candy corn, just because Billy made an off hand comment to her last week about how he was annoyed that he'd be stuck in hospital over Halloween. It's there in the tangle of soft blankets at the foot of his bed, the ones Joyce had brought in for him when he'd grumbled about the itchy hospital sheets, the same ones she'd tucked around him so carefully when he first started to shiver, and then untucked so swiftly when he started thrashing in his sleep.

It's there too, in the Walkman Billy always has by his side, the surprise gift from Steve, alongside a collection of tapes, even though Billy still hasn't swapped the first one out yet. How can he, when it's a mixtape that Steve made especially for him? A terrible mix, really, a culture clash of Tears for Fears and Judas Priest and The Beach Boys and Ratt and Cyndi fucking Lauper and a whole mess of others, every single one meaning something to the two of them.

It's there in so many other things too. Less obvious ones, like the nurses always knocking quietly before coming into his room because Hopper had a stern word after he saw Billy flinch away from a loud bang; and how there's a stubborn, possibly permanent, scuff mark on the floor from all the times that someone has dragged the uncomfortable visitors' chair closer to the bed, closer to Billy.

And it's there in the way that El and Max are crowding at the door, faces smushed against the glass, almost falling over themselves to come back to Billy's bedside the moment he spots them and beckons them over.

It's there. All over. Proof that, for whatever fucking reason, the people here do care about him. For him. That Hopper isn't talking out of his ass. That Billy can ask for help and know that he'll get it.

It's a lot. A lot to realise, especially all at once. So it takes Billy a moment. But then he finally looks back at Hopper and at Max and El, at the expression they all share, the one that Billy now sees for the concern that it always was. And not just concern, but something more. Something Billy hasn't seen directed his way in a long time.

Care. Affection. And love.

Billy knows he's about to break. He can't stop it. He doesn't even try. And there's only a second, if that, between the first sob catching in his throat and the three pairs of arms that wrap around him and pull him into a hug. It's awkward, really, the bed is too small for them all and Max's elbow is sharp and El's hair is tickling his cheek, and Hopper's ripe armpit is a little too close to Billy's nose to be overly pleasant. But Billy doesn't mind at all, especially not when Hop's voice rumbles out against his ear, "You'll be OK, son. You'll be OK. We've got you."

Because this time, Billy lets himself believe it.

#harringrove #post s3 #cherrywrites #harringroveweek #kinda! well...there's a mention of candy corn #that counts right?#it's a little angsty but not really #and a little fluffy but not really #and it's a little harringrove but not really #so‚ uh‚ yeah. bon appetit #found family i suppose #yeah that fits #and billy learning that he is loved so he'd better just deal with it‚ ok kid?#let people take care of you

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factual-fantasy · 3 months

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Seeing my old Welcome Home AU stuff inspired me to come back and draw Julie! Out of all the backstories my AU gives the cast, I always liked Julie's the most. :}

As ya'll can see I experimented with her design a bit more and made her look more monstrous. A tail here, some spots over there.. Some animal-like feet and pointy ears.. nothing that would make her look too crazy though. Its the first pass but I think it looks nice! I might just keep her this way :}}

#welcome home #julie joyful #sally starlet #frank frankly #tw body horror #tw blood #drawing Julie was so much fun #her little hands and big fluffy hair #she really IS joyful huh XD

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celestialwrites · 4 months

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six word dialogue prompts ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “you chose her, i knew it.”

♡ “stop making me love you, idiot!”

♡ “i wish our fate could change.”

♡ “remember how much he loved her?”

♡ “i refute to let this change.”

♡ “why must all good things leave?”

♡ “you loved him, just not enough.”

♡ “i wish i died back then.”

♡ “her face haunts my dreams forever.”

♡ “to the stars and back, love.”

♡ “never forget what i said, okay?”

♡ “you’re a dumbass, please know that.”

♡ “i’ll be waiting, keep your promise.”

♡ “finding love like that, it’s impossible.”

♡ “thanks, for giving me the will.”

♡ “you’re too good for this world.”

♡ “i’m too dashingly gorgeous to die.”

♡ “enough! stop pretending like you care.”

♡ “please don’t ever lose your heart.”

♡ “as long as i have you.”

♡ “don’t make me regret not dying.”

♡ “people are simple, gone too soon.”

♡ “i never ever regretted knowing you.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS<3

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reallilystuff · 5 months

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glorious leader what the fuck is that thing. what is that. get that cat out of the cult grounds I think it has rabies.

drawing the lambs wool is surprisingly fun ngl

#cotl lamb #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl narinder #holds him like big potato. hold narinder like football.#finally finished the game a while ago. good shit I'm going a little feral over it still #didn't render on this as much as I would've liked but shiiit I'm tired as hell #got another sketch of these two idiots lined up #look up world's cutest lambs i beg of you I was SO overjoyed. they're so fluffy :]#reallilystuffart #and now I go to sleep. not really but by god do I wish bc im eepy

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puppyeared · 5 months

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doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

#my brain is a barbie dreamhouse and theyre all just living in it #im especially fond of the second one because my mom used to hold me like that all the time <3 #im drawing them a lot lately because im being crushed by the horrors and have to compensate for it somehow #homemade comfort blorbos......#watch me draw anton inconsistently bc i can never decide if i wanna draw him close to how he actually looks #or yassify him and give him soft fluffy hair and kind eyes and defined features. head in my hands #i dont really have a lot of drawing ideas for them bc they dont have like. a canon storyline or anything methinks #its just stuff me and bow toss around and giggle abt thru messages lol. maybe ill draw infant vincent one of these days #i just come up with stuff and draw them doing it. it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside #cuz like anton works for lobocorp as an abnormality BUT hes super duper chill and cute and does his funny little tasks so its fine #AND hes unkillable. auggie is an oc ive had since like 6th grade and i smushed them together. and vincent was for fun but i got attached #i dont have much of a read on anton either bc i think hes meant to be more of an insert character??? if im using that right #on one hand i dont think too hard abt anything being ooc since im not taking it seriously. on the other hand i just hold them in my hands #and stare into space until i can come up with something to draw since i dont have much to go off of. but its fun to build on small tidbits!#i think bow called it an au so i guess??? its an au????? im not really sure. bow if youre reading this im just willy nilly #the only thing i know for sure is that they boink like rabbits. im talking gomez and morticia levels of boinking #maybe ill go back and look at my old doodles for them and redraw em lol #myart #my art #my oc #oc #friend oc #augusta #anton #vincent #sillies family #doodles

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doctordearie · 3 days

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Finn wishes everyone a safe and peaceful Caturday😻🐈😘🐾❤️😸✌️

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justaboutsnapped · 10 months

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Thinking about the post calling Nico Vivian's wag... yeah he's never beating those allegations

#This also bears incredible resemblance to a rich heiress pampering her little fluffy white dog who's helpless in her clutches #i really am just giffing a random moment of this mf's vlog can you see how i'm losing it #nico rosberg #vivian rosberg #em speaks #*mine: gifs

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fauustic · 11 months

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the fear of losing this

too many people in my inbox got a little too comfortable asking me for “a fight between reader” as well as “miguel angst please” so i am combining both as i struggle to get through this writer’s block ))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. little comfort. your universe is falling apart, yet miguel doesn’t want to let you go.

warnings: pure angst. light cursing? i’m not too sure, just lots of tears.

word count: 2211

The night sky of Nueva York shined brightly with the bustle of commute, highly advanced cars whirring softly through the clouds. Your mask hung from your hands at your side, bunched up in the anger that fizzed and popped in your bloodstream– threatening to explode at any given moment as Miguel brushed off your conversation with a stoic chill.

“You don’t understand how important this is to me Miguel–” your voice raised as you paced the highest level of the building, padding against the overly complex structures that mimicked webs. You would have laughed at the irony of having a headquarters so invested in the theme of spiders that even the ground you walk on replicated the symmetry of webs if the both of you were in any other given situation– but that joking persona that came with the gig flew and crashed out the window the moment Miguel brushed off and rejected your plans to return back home. “I need to be there, helping my people. What is the point of me taking up a spot in this ‘fateful–’” You dragged out the words, venom dripping from your tongue as you partially made fun of the organization he spent so much time on. “Spider Society if my own boss doesn’t let me return back to the place I belong in?”

“No, no.” His tone was blunt as he stood as rigid as ever; surveying your every move in a way that you could never guess what he was thinking, with or without the mask. “You don’t understand.” Miguel repeated your own words back to you in a taunt as one of his clawed hands fidgeted with the device that decided whether or not you could walk around or stay in a little bubble for the next week just like all the other prisoners were down below. “You created a problem in your own universe, that’s the problem we’re having here. You cannot fix it.” He practically spat his words, anger emitting from every rhythmic clang whenever he tossed the technology into the air and caught it with calculation. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re from that Earth, you put that place you so valiantly ‘protect’ into a state of emergency. Is that not clear enough?”

“Oh, sure– but the hundreds of other spider-people that can’t go one word without making a joke of the situation can fix my mess? Am I just some inexperienced rookie to you, Miguel?” You countered, ripping your gaze from his own. His features were exposed to you as his mask was off as well, the sunken circles beneath his eyes growing prominent when a vibrant car passed by and shone a striking yellow light into the corridor the two of you stood within. His usual expression made of stone chipped away with the stress he was under as a deeper frown made its way onto his lips.

Miguel sighed dramatically before pinching the bridge of his nose, turning away from you to mumble a jumble of incoherency. “God,” He repeats your name like it's a curse, “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just not safe.”

You scoffed, eyes growing wide at the audacity of this man you have to call your boss. “Of course it’s not safe Miguel, that’s our job.” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, pulling at the roots of your hair in any attempt to calm yourself down. “I risked my life every single day in my universe before I even knew of your existence, yet now suddenly I can’t?”

“This is different. For some reason these– these anomalies are running rampant in your world and it’s taking everything to finally have the problem at hand contained.” Miguel held his breath as if he had something more to say, but left it unsaid the moment you stomped closer towards him in a new fit of anger.

You shoved your palm against his chest, baring your teeth as a groan erupted from the back of your throat in a concoction of frustration and despair. “Exactly! That’s exactly the problem, Miguel. My people out there are suffering and fighting for their lives, surrounded by these people that are like me but aren’t me.” Tears began to well up in the corners of your pained gaze, humiliation washing over your consciousness as you sniffled and stifled a sob. Fauxe confidence and quips were something you specialized in, annoying Miguel in a little dynamic the two of you found yourself in as months turned into an entire year of being called in for missions. Emotions were never a thing the both of you have ever discussed with one another because it wasn’t your position to pry and he was never the one to initiate such conversation.

“If you just let me go, I’m more than willing to show you how capable I am.” It came out as a whisper as you turned away from him and began padding down the structural webs. Miguel was on high alert, you could notice as every glance felt as if he was trying to convince himself that no other member of his society occupied this part of Headquarters. He followed you close behind, claws digging into the beams of construction to reach the same floor as you without a word. The brooding silence that usually met your company could be sensed from any person in their right mind, and as you spotted the hesitation in each thud of his footfalls– confusion clouded your anger. So in a flurry of adrenaline, you webbed his next step to the ground with a ball of the substance you artificially produced in the depths of your makeshift and cozy lab, hidden away at your home in the world you desperately needed to save. It would give you time to finally just talk to him.

“¿Eres estúpido o qué? Do that again and I’m putting you in the–”

It wasn’t to hold him down, you know you couldn’t match his strength. It was to make a statement.

You interrupted him, a newfound determination holding onto the little hope you had. “You follow me for one more second, I’m going through that portal and never looking back.” Brutally honest and uncharacteristically serious, the attempt at ripping his limb free was cut cold at the promise looming in the air. His frown fell for just a moment’s notice, mouth agape in shocked horror before quickly recovering himself. Repeating yourself more clearly as his attention was occupied, your body shined away while shaky fingers struggled to input the coordinates of your universe. But eventually it clicked, the AI voice of Miguel’s beloved Lyla sounded throughout the tension in a glitchy mess– notifying Miguel of the portal to-be seconds before it truly distorted the fabrication of reality in front of you.

Miguel dropped to his knees, struggling to claw off the web that had his foot planted to the structure. His breath quickened concerningly, shoulders heaving as the plan of his crumbled in front of him in an instant; all because he was not observant enough. You played him like an instrument like you always had, a pained groan from the back of his throat sounded and echoed throughout the space of the vast headquarters. “No, no, no..” He repeated, mirroring the despair you had on your features moments ago at the idea of not being able to save your people. You could never once recollect a fraction of a second where he allowed himself to convey the pain plaguing his mind, and as he reached out to you in a frantic heap of limbs– the walls of protection he hazardously built around himself came crumbling down by each shape contorting and twisting into a gateway to your world. “I can’t, I can’t lose anybody else–”

You stood there, heart breaking as the man who has had villains three times your size on their knees, collapse into fragments of himself at the mere idea of you leaving the security of his universe. Bursts of color painted the dark hues blotching upon white, igniting his fresh-tear stained cheeks in splashes of reds and yellows and greens. The portal was completely open, awaiting your entrance to return back to your familiarity– yet your senses buzzed alarmingly at each step away from Miguel. It’s almost as if you could feel the hole in his chest, searing away his soul he finally allowed himself to offer like a god’s offering.

You fell to your knees to hold his face in your suited hands, the waves of sorrow and grief infesting your mind like a sickness almost had you doubling over in pain. You could hear the cries of hundreds around his, no– your own heavy breathing, a confused and fearful little girl’s pleas for help overlapping the muddled screams. You felt the weight of a child in your hands before it was ripped away like a paper airplane in the wind, and soon your trembling hands met the purchase of his nape. Your body moved automatically, holding his face in the comfort of your lap while you shielded his gaze from the portal. Despite his power, the capability to snap you in two, you held him like a fragile doll that would break within any mishap.

“All this time, you never told me.” You sobbed into his hair, dampening his combed back curls with your tears and he only held your waist like you were the anchor in this unforgiving ocean of anguish. You have become one, the memories of his own mixing into the blur of yours's.

“I didn’t know how to.” He murmured into the purchase of your thigh, wetness seeping into your suit. But you didn’t care as your hands wandered all over his figure: a soft massage to the shoulders before quickly scooping his neck into your arms before finally settling on petting his hair back. “I, I haven’t allowed you to go to your world because a part of my thoughts can imagine your arms fading into a technicolor mess, falling into the clutches of another failed universe.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, gulping up air as the portal behind the both of you fizzled and popped.

“I can’t lose you too. I’d be so–” He hesitated, breathing in deeply just to choke on a sob. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He poured out the burdens weighing on his conscience, confirming your long-forgotten wonder that he was just as emotional when he was faced with his grief head-on; the same intensity seen in his short-tempered anger.

You simply hushed him, cooing reassurance that he accepted with greed. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” The rational fear being expressed aloud made your shoulders shake and head buzz with anxiety, but you steeled yourself at the reminder of Miguel melting into your tearful embrace like putty. You needed to be strong for him when he wasn’t, just like how he pushed himself to the greatest extent his body can endure all the times before.

“It’s just, I can’t lose where I come from.” You worked at ridding his foot from your webs as your serene tone accompanied his sniffles, his breathing settling out bit by bit as you continued to finally explain yourself. In regards to Miguel's quietness, you genuinely thought he was listening. “You can’t keep me away and shield me from my own mistakes, O’Hara. It’s just not possible, I need a home to thrive and protect. Without my people, I’m going to disappear as well.” A snap of your webs trapping his limbs finished your little speech, indicating that time was up and you had a job to do.

“I’m.. worried.” He mumbles aloud, like the sentence itself was foreign on his tongue. “These creatures from foreign worlds, they are drawn to your universe as if there’s a pulling force. I haven’t been able to figure it out. It’s so infuriating, it’s like I can’t do–”

You intercept his little tangent as you grab his chin and lift his gaze to meet yours’, an unsaid question hanging into the atmosphere like an old letter to a former self. Do you want this? Is this okay? I’m scared of messing this up.

The question is answered as Miguel’s grasp finds purchase in your flesh, claws digging into your thighs like if he let you go you’d fade along with everything else of his. In a messy, salty clash of teeth against fangs and tongue against lips, Miguel lapped up every inch of your mouth like he had to memorize every crevice of your entire being. It’s as if the two of you have synchronized, being able to suspect slight changes in each other’s mood as he grew more needy with the introduction of desire bubbling against the forefront of your mind.

“We can do this.” You murmured into his cheek, hands dancing over his suit in case this was the last time you’d ever be blessed with his presence again.

Miguel nodded, heaving for breath before he snatched one last kiss– sincere and genuine and full of unfiltered affection. “Yeah,” His nose met the crook of your neck, grazing each curve it stumbled upon.

“Together, mi alma.”

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 6 months

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Are those little dolls made to look like 3zun as animals in the most recent comic? I need to know how/when Nie Mingjue got those. Are they gifts from Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang? Did Jin Guangyao sew them himself and stuff them full of evil talismans in case the song didn't work? So many possibilities.

The 3zun dolls were a self-indulgent reference to this (previously abandoned) doodle! As for who made them in universe? I'll leave it up for interpretation B*)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #jin guangyao #lan xichen #nie mingjue #ask #Ah why not:#mdzs warrior cats au #by 'previously abandoned' I mean to say that this was just a pencil sketch I cleaned up just now.#Because I draw all of these on paper there are a lot of little doodles in the spaces between.#I don't like wasting paper so I try to squeeze something in there! Even if it's just a silly sketch or a doodle.#Sometimes they are little B plot jokes or alt dialogue to a comic.#or notes about what I want to say in the tags!#I was trying to thumbnail what would have been a larger piece (for the lace detailing practice) but put it aside to focus on the comic.#The aesthetic I was going for was 'Antique Victorian Dolls' with the little hand sewn dresses.#I really want to practice drawing lace and I thought this would be a cute way to do so.#Also something about the Venerated Triad being fluffy cats just really speaks to me...This is 3zun. In my heart.#In the comic they are 'cat -bunny - goat' dolls but the kitty trio was the OG concept.

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jestroer · 1 year

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Was watching Beef’s season 7 pov lately and when Beef and Wels were discussing how fluffy Wels’ bed was i had a very clear image of Wels all snuggled up in there. Knight’s well deserved rest

Also thought it would be fitting to plug Wels’ patreon as his family is having financial problems rn and it would be nice of you to help if you are able!

#wanted to draw this one for a bit #he was so in yeah this is a VERY fluffy bed it is so fluffy and it was a little bit funny to me for a knight to have a very soft fluffy bed #with like 5 blankets and so many pillows #welsknight #hermitcraft #court jester's art #im not in the best place financially at all so im not really able to help so i though id try to spread it a bit

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gunsatthaphan · 6 months

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🐱🐾🫶🏻

#first kanaphan #gmmtv #😩😩😩😩😩😩#he looked SO soft and fluffy at todays event im really not okay #look at him hes just a little boy #sdkjghkdf #im about to dedicate 3 whole sets to this soft look #just because I feel like crying #😭😭😭😭😭#loml

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dreamwatch · 8 months

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STWG daily drabble - 28/09/23

Prompt: horse

Warnings: mentions of chronic pain

This is the longest thing I have ever shared, and the weirdest thing I have ever written. I have literally zero idea where this came from. It's not beta'd, apologies for typos etc. This is just shy of 2.5k words, so yeah... not so Drabble actually.

****

“So, what’s on your mind today, Eddie?”

He sees Doctor Pearcey every Wednesday at 2pm. Has done now for two months. And it’s the first thing she says to him every time he sits down. What’s on your mind today, Eddie? He’s responded in various ways. With anger. With humour. With distrust. On one particularly memorable day, with silence, which Doctor Pearcey matched in spades. The two of them sat there for an hour and didn’t say a single word. Eddie wanted to peel his skin off about ten minutes into it.

He’s in more pain than usual today, has a lower tolerance for her psychobabble mumbo jumbo, so he’s already looking to derail the session before he gets in the room.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” Eddie asks her.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Hmm, couple of times.”

There’s silence for a minute or so. It’s like they’re playing therapy chicken, who gives in and speaks first? It’s usually him.

“I like them. Like how fast they are, you know? How free you feel on them.” He digs his thumb into the leather of the armchair, leaving little crescent nail marks.

“And what’s got you thinking about that today?”

The beautiful purple Kawasaki he passed on his way here today would be the easy answer. But when did he ever do anything easy?

“Wayne hates them. I’ve been wanting one for years, but he begged me not to. Asked me to wait till I was twenty one. I think he thought I would just grow out of it.”

“And have you?”

“Fuck no. I want one more than ever.”

She waits.

“I’m twenty one next week, and I won’t be getting a motorcycle because my leg is fucked, and I can’t twist or move properly.” He doesn’t bother hiding the bitterness. “It doesn’t matter, I mean, it’s whatever at this point, just another thing I can’t do, add it to the fucking pile, right?”

He changes the subject and she follows along behind waiting for breadcrumbs. Eventually their time comes to an end and he’s desperate to get out.

“Do you trust me, Eddie?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You work for the spook agency that started this fucking nightmare. So, no, not really.”

She smiles back. “That’s fair.” She walks to her desk and scribbles a note before handing it to him. Eddie takes it from her like it’s poisonous.

“Meet me at that address on Sunday. Two PM. I’ll be waiting.”

And that is definitely not how the sessions usually end.

——

Wayne is working so Steve offers to take him. And Eddie isn’t going to say no to spending some time with him, especially when he’s walking into the unknown. Although the unknown appears to be…

“A horse sanctuary? Why the fuck does she want to meet you at a horse sanctuary?”

“Maybe she’s going to shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

Steve slaps him against the chest with the back of his hand. “Dude.”

“Sorry.”

He sees her standing at a fence watching a couple of horses wander around the paddock. The ground is a little rough below his feet and his leg has been a complete nightmare all week, so Steve walks with him, hand gently resting at Eddie’s elbow as he traverses the uneven ground with his cane. It makes him grateful and fucking furious all at the same time. Such is his life these days.

“You came. I’m glad,” she says, smiling brightly.

“Well, my curiosity door was opened,” replies Eddie and Steve stifles a laugh beside him.

Steve heads back to the car, squeezes Eddie’s elbow gently, before saying goodbye to the Doc. She watches the exchange intently, and Eddie feels entirely scrutinised. He hasn’t spoken about Steve in the sessions, has no intention of doing so and the last person he would want to know about it is someone that works for the fucking feds.

“So, why am I here, exactly?”

“I thought you might like to get out of that stuffy office for a change. You never seem very comfortable.”

Eddie laughs. “Uh huh, and what is it that gave you the impression I’d be comfortable in a field full of horses?”

She shrugs. “Humour me.”

See, it was shit like that that drove Eddie crazy. Humour me. It’s Sunday. Right now he could be lying on his bed playing guitar, reading, hanging out with Steve. He could be jerking off. All of which was preferable to standing in a field full of horseshit.

“Okay, well I’m not in a humorous mood, so I’m going to leave you to your equine endeavours.” He turns to leave.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. Before you go. Will only take a minute.” The Doc waves at a stable hand and a few minutes later Eddie is face to face with a beautiful white horse.

“I swear to god, if you tell me his name is Shadowfax…”

She laughs. “No, this is Tony. Tony, meet Eddie.” Tony whinnies, nodding his head up and down, his mane blowing gently in the wind. Eddie smiles. God damn her.

Eddie reaches over the fence to stroke Tony. This gorgeous, graceful animal, and it’s called fucking Tony.

“He’s beautiful. How come he’s here?”

“He was a race horse, I believe. But he was slow, didn’t make his owners any money. So now he gets to live here and lead a good life.”

“Doesn’t he miss racing? Like, aren’t they bred for that? What does he do all day if he can’t race anymore?”

“It wasn’t meant to be. But he’s patient, and kind and now he helps people learn to ride. And he’s very, very good at that.” She turns to face him, one arm hooked over the fence. “You said you were disappointed at not being able to ride a motorcycle? Correct?”

Where the fuck was this going?

“Yeah… ?”

“Why ride a steel horse when you can ride the real thing?”

Eddie splutters. “You have to be kidding me?” She just keeps smiling. He stares at her, open mouthed and wide eyed. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m fucking serious,” she says, with a glint of mischief. “You wanted the freedom and the excitement of riding. Well, I’m offering it to you. Or, Tony’s offering it to you, really.”

He looks between her and Tony. “Did you miss the part about my leg being fucked? How the hell am I even supposed to get up there? And what if I fall? No, absolutely not.”

The Doc gives him a long hard stare. “Do you trust me?” she ask him.

“No.”

“The sanctuary has a programme for disabled riders. Tony is the best of the best. You’d be perfectly safe. Come on, Eddie. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“This was… very nice, I guess, of you to think about this, but no. Sorry. It’s not the same as a bike, like at all. I have control of the bike, my bike can’t just run off and start jumping over fences and shit.”

“No, but your bike’s not smart. Tony is smart. He’s kind. He feels his rider, he knows what they need, knows when they’re scared. He fills in the gaps, takes the lead when a rider needs it, hands them back control when they don’t. He can guide you. Look after you. Your bike can’t do that.”

He feels his resolve wane. He sighs. Animals, they get him every time.

“People get hurt riding horses.”

“Sure, but they don’t call motorbikes donorcycles for nothing, Eddie.” Touché.

He shakes his head, this is such a stupid idea, but eventually that little pixie voice in his head just says fuck it, and within fifteen minutes he’s wearing a very unflattering helmet, climbing a mounting block and being helped into the saddle on Tony’s back.

He feels like he’s going to slip off the other side, and every time Tony moves his head forward toward the ground Eddie panics because it feels like he’ll just lean forward and drop like a rock to the ground. It's incredibly disorienting.

Eddie grips the reins so hard he sees his knuckles go white until the instructor shows him how to hold them properly. They show him how to guide Tony but ultimately Tony is doing all the work here, Eddie is just along for the ride.

He’s led around the paddock, and yeah, he feels stupid at first, self conscious sitting up in the air for everyone to see. But eventually he gets into the swing of it, and it’s… nice. Nerve wracking, but nice.

They’re going at walking speed, he can feel the rhythmic sway of Tony’s body, and it’s comforting. Why is it comforting? It’s not exactly the Kentucky Derby, but he can’t stop himself from grinning.

Eddie knows fuck all about horses, less than fuck all actually, but if he didn’t know better he’d say that Tony was enjoying himself. And as much as he hates that she’s right, he feels at peace. Feels like he trusts this animal, who he literally just met, but who seems to be having a ball wandering around with this asshole on his back.

“Wanna pick it up a bit?” asks the instructor and Eddie’s about to say ‘fuck no’ when Tony comes to a stop. Like he knows Eddie’s not sure. Eddie strokes along Tony’s thick, white mane, and pats his shoulder.

“Eurgh, yeah, shit, okay,” he says before leaning forward and whispering in Tony’s ear, “look after me, okay? Cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing up here.” Tony answers with a swooping nod of the head and then they’re off.

They’re barely going any faster as Tony trots around the paddock, but Eddie can definitely feel the difference. The soft, comforting sway has been replaced by a harder jolt. He’s going to pay for it tomorrow, can already feel it in his hips and back, and he hasn’t got the strength in his leg to properly push up from the stirrups, but it doesn’t matter.

The last time he was on a motorcycle he was seventeen, and it belonged to a friend of Reefer Rick’s. He was riding pillion and they were going way over the speed limit, and he’d never felt more alive, more free. He was young enough and dumb enough to think he’d never get hurt. He was invincible at seventeen. He wasn’t even a little bit scared of falling off. The folly of youth.

In three short years the folly of youth has been replaced with constant dread and a little bit of paranoia.

This isn’t the same as that careless charge up the highway, not by a long shot, but it’s exciting in it’s own way, like going on a roller coaster instead of walking through an alternate universe.

He feels at peace. A moment in time when he’s not having to think about doctors appointments, worrying about Wayne, worrying about his future. His life has got so small since March. The kids are at school and he’s not, but he can’t work so he spends endless unfilled hours at home, waiting for other people to have space for him.

The constant churn in his mind slows, his thoughts empty, his worries silence.

They go back to a steady walk, Tony’s body lilting from side to side, a gentle rock. Eddie already loves him. He’s a fucking sap. Horses? Rich people pets? No way man, not for him. But this guy, this is Eddie’s guy now.

As they turn in the paddock he sees Steve leaning over the fence, grinning.

“Nice hat!” Asshole.

Eddie flips him off but Steve just laughs, sunglasses pushed back up on his head. Steve can read him like a book, and Eddie knows he can see it. The complicated emotions today is bringing out in him. The joy and the excitement and the little bit of sadness. Steve raises his eyebrows, that little silent okay? Eddie smiles shyly and nods in response. They’ll talk properly later, when Eddie is trying to unpack everything.

It’s over too soon. Eddie’s helped down and fuck, yeah he’s in a little pain now, but Jesus it was so worth it. He pats Tony, strokes his neck, tells him what a beautiful boy he is, and Tony leans over nudges his nose against the side of Eddie’s face. There is a conversation happening between them, just this little quiet acknowledgement of something. Eddie doesn’t want to leave him. He feels… changed, weirdly. Like it was spiritual. Like something inside him got cracked open just a little.

“So?”

Doctor Pearcey stands behind him, looking pretty pleased with herself.

He tilts his head to the side, makes a big show of it. “Yeah, it was okay.” Eddie knows she sees through his bullshit. They’ll be talking about this next week. No need to go through it all now.

They head back to the car, Steve at his elbow again, and Doctor Pearcey hands him a card with the sanctuary number on. “Just in case you’d like to come back.”

He does. Wayne is going to enjoy giving him shit, and he doesn’t even want to think of the number of jockey jokes in his future, but he really does want to do this again.

The car ride is quiet on the way home, just the sound of some top forty shit in the background, but Eddie’s mind is elsewhere. He feels still, his head is clear and quiet. Ridiculously relaxed.

“How’s your ass?” asks Steve.

Eddie grins. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

“Jesus Christ.” But he’s laughing. They’re both laughing.

“So, you want to do it again? We can make it regular, I’ll just make sure Keith doesn’t schedule me for Sundays.”

Eddie stares at the side of Steve’s face. This guy. This fucking guy.

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would.” Steve looks studiously out at the road, hands firmly at ten and two. “I’d do anything for you.”

Eddie feels like he’s skipped a breath, but tentatively reaches his hand across the console and pokes at Steve’s thigh. Steve takes a hand off the wheel, reaches blindly to find Eddie’s, gives it a little squeeze before letting go. They don’t look at each other.

He leans back in his seat, imagines Tony, galloping, mane trailing behind him in the wind. Just beautiful.

Why the fuck did they call him Tony?

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #cw chronic pain #stranger things #not really that angsty #little bit fluffy in places #who am I?#my writing #dreamy writes

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