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#dude they accepted WITHOUT AN INTERVIEW

bitchesgetriches · 1 year

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Getting a job:

How to Write a Resume so You Actually Have a Prayer of Getting Hired

How to Write a Cover Letter like You Actually Want the Job

Ask the Bitches: What the Hell Else Can I Do to Get a Job?

How to Frame Volunteering on Your Resume When You’ve Never Had a Job

How To Get Ready For a Job Interview: Prep Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

Common Job Interview Questions and How to Answer Them with the Confidence of a Mediocre White Dude

10 Questions You Should Never Be Asked in a Job Interview

What to Wear (and What Not to Wear) to a Job Interview

What to Do When You’re Asked About Your Salary Requirements in a Job Interview

How NOT to Determine Your Salary

How to Find Remote Work: On Getting the Elusive Work-From-Home Job

High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career

Myers-Briggs Personalities and Income: What Your Type Says About Your Salary

I Just Applied for a Job. How (And When) Should I Follow Up?

Our Best Secrets for a Successful, Strategic, and SHORT Job Search

Season 2, Episode 11: “I Tripped and Fell into a Career I Don’t like. How Do I Reinvent Myself?”

Freelancing and side jobs:

Should Artists Ever Work for Free?

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract

Ask the Bitches: My Boss Won’t Give Me a Contract and I’m Freaking Out

I Lost My Job and It Might Be the Best Worst Thing That’s Ever Happened to Me

Becoming a Millennial Entrepreneur (in the Midst of a Pandemic) with Katelyn Magnuson

11 Awful Mistakes I Made as a Self-Employed Freelancer, and How YOU Can Avoid Them

Workplace benefits:

Workplace Benefits and Other Cool Side Effects of Employment

Your School or Workplace Benefits Might Include Cool Free Stuff

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Season 2, Episode 6: “Someone Offered to Mentor Me! How Do I Be a Non-Sucky Mentee?”

Navigating the workplace:

My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

Can Looking Weird at Work Be Good for Your Career?

Why Is Short Hair Controversial? An Examination of Expensive, Annoying Beauty Standards

Season 1, Episode 1: “Should I Tell My Boss I’m Looking for Another Job?”

You WILL Regret Accepting Your Coworker’s Social Media Friend Request

Season 1, Episode 5: “I Don’t Love My Job, but It Pays Well. Should I Quit—or Tough It Out?”

Season 2, Episode 7: “How Do I Throw My Incompetent Coworkers under the Bus?”

Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

Getting a raise:

Salary Range: Are You Asking for Enough?

A Millennial’s Guide to Growing Your Salary

The First Time I Asked for a Raise

You Need to Ask for a Fucking Raise

Should You Increase Your Salary or Decrease Your Spending?

Getting a promotion:

Santa Isn’t Coming and Neither Is Your Promotion: How To Get Promoted

How I Chessmastered Myself Into a Promotion at Work

Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers

The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll

I Hate My Job and I Don’t Know How To Leave It: A Confession

A New Job, a New Day, a New Life, and I’m Feeling Good

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

Working remotely

How to Successfully Work from Home Without Losing Your Goddamn Mind (Or Your Job)

How to Find Remote Work: On Getting the Elusive Work-From-Home Job

8 Genres of Productivity Music (Plus Our Secret Stash of Personal Favorites)

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

#resume #cover letter #job search #job hunt #getting a job #get a job #career advice #job search advice #job #freelancing

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satellite-evans · 1 year

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Chris Evans loving on his pregnant wife for 20 minutes straight

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: a fan made a video about your husband not being able to keep himself from talking about you and your unborn child at all times.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Fluff. Like y’all know you can’t expect anything else from me at this point

A/N: I would like to say before y'all come to me and say 'my omg you copied @astranva how could you' I didn't. Nova herself is cool with it and I'm just sick of you guys always putting us against each other. We are both fluff writers for the same white dude. Similarities are going to happen. So please, don't attack me, and don't full nova's inbox with bullshit. Thank you. <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Chris Evans is a well-known name in Hollywood. Not only for his looks, his iconic role as Captain America, and his famous left boob grab, but the way he kept talking about you in all his interviews.

There was no denying that he was obsessed with you and even more since you carried his child. This obsession was even noticed by fans that they couldn't help but make a video about their favorite Marvel star.

Chris Evans loving on his pregnant wife for 20 minutes straight.

The trending internet video started with a clip of Chris in his famous white suit standing in front of the cameras at the knives out the premiere.

While everyone was screaming at him and trying to get his attention, his eyes were only locked on you, mesmerized by your beauty and making sure you were okay, that the baby was fine.

"Hey Chris, how are you? Good to see you." The voice of the extratv journalist was heard while she was shaking his hand.

"What was it like to be a part of it and work with the cast?" Her first question came immediately after the introduction and made Chris think for a few seconds.

" Uh, I-It was uh, very humbling, y'know a-a lot very talented people who've had uh very long career in this industry so, a lot to learn."

Just when the interviewer was going to shoot him with another question, Chris showed he was clearly not done with his answer.

"Also, also I would like to say that it meant a lot to my wife, Y/N, too." He pointed towards you, where you were standing next to his publicist, trying not to take his thunder away tonight with your very pregnant belly.

"Oh yeah, Y/N is also here tonight! Let's let her join in this interview too!"

Chris then waved the woman off "No, that's okay. She doesn't like this type of thing and I want to respect that. But yeah, she is the reason I accepted this-the job. She is, y'know- my wife is very into detective work and solving crimes so when the opportunity came I just-I had to take it to make her happy."

The next clip showed Chris yet with another interviewer, but this time he was sitting in front of her with Ana de Armas next to him.

"So first, I wanted to say congratulations to Chris. You and your wife are expecting a baby."

In an instant, a smile grew on his face, and he got excited since the conversation was his favorite topic.

"That's right, yeah." He said, with a smirk on his face and his pink in his mouth.

"So how does that feel, becoming a dad after waiting all those years?"

He answered the question with such ease, " It is exciting, but also intimidating, in a way." He started, "Just like you said the need- I wanted to have a family for so long, you think I would've mentally prepared myself, but it is nothing like that. You're scared, you're nervous, you-you constantly thinking if you're going to be a great dad, y'know? All these questions come up and make you more anxious than you already are but, thankfully I have Y/N, she-"

"Omg, she is amazing," Ana interrupted him.

Chris nodded immediately, agreeing with her statement.

"So amazing. I mean, honestly, without her, I think I would be lost. She is the best wife, the best friend, and I know she is going to be the best mother for our child. I-I don't know what I would do without her."

"That's so cute. I'm so happy for you, Chris."

The next clip was him in Massachusetts, on a set of Defending Jacob posing in front of the cameras with a bunch of fans.

"Man, when are you growing your hair back, we loved it in infinity war!" A man said while recording the encounters between Chris and his fans. He smiled and looked towards the guy who said: " I'm sorry but, the wife doesn't like it, so it's not gonna happen. Whatever she wants."

With that, he waved at the fans for the last time before going back to his trailer. He almost missed the guy's response:

"Never thought Captain America was gonna be pussy-whipped!"

Without turning back, Chris shouted back to him : "Why are you saying like it's a bad thing!"

Another video was added of him at the tonight show starring Jimmy Fallon.

"Did you-where you sad when you had to do the end-last scene?" Jimmy asked him after they started talking about the success of Avengers Endgame.

"Yeah, it was very emotional. I mean, it's emotional. These movies are a huge part of your life. And so, when they come to an end, it really it has an impact. But thankfully, I had my wife by my side who supported me throughout everything and, y'know, was there when I needed that extra emotional support."

"Speaking of your wife, Y/N, congratulations buddy she is pregnant!"

The whole crowd started cheering and clapping, Including Jimmy himself, and Chris could only smile and nod, showing how proud he was.

"Yeah, she is. We're expecting a child together, which sounds so odd when I say it because my dream I had for years finally became a reality."

The whole audience was awed, making Chris swoon.

"I am so happy for you pal, I truly am. So how far along is she?"

He looked in the air, thinking and making sure he was giving the right answers.

"She is- tomorrow she will be 7 months pregnant, yeah. Again, I couldn't be more excited about the whole thing. She is incredible. I mean literally, words don't even describe how much she means to me. I love her so much and can't wait to meet our baby."

"That's incredible news, buddy."

The final clip of the video was a self-recorded video Chris made to wish one of his fans a happy birthday.

"Hey Josh, it's me, Chris Evans. So your friends told me you turned 21, and I just wanted to say, have a happy birthday buddy. You're finally at the age that you can drink, at least legally, so go out and have a drink and enjoy it with your friends as much as you can. I would've joined you guys, but y'know, the missus is pregnant and we don't want her to scream at us like a street cat, do we?"

The video also caught you screaming from behind.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"I was just joking honey, all good here!" Chris screamed back. " She just proved my point," he whispered "anyway, happy birthday buddy, thank you for all the love, and enjoy your day. I've gotta show some love to my wife. Don't want her to get too mad at me. See you later, pal."

The video was so loved that it got 10 million in just one day and received many comments from fans:

user1: plsss the way he looks at her, he's down BAD

user2: when is someone going to talk about me the way Chris is talking about his pregnant wife?? WHEN???

user3: I love how he randomly brings up y/n during any conversation lmao

user4: NOT THE STREET CAT LMAOOO

The video got so much love that it even caught the attention of the man himself, Chris Evans.

#cevans #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic rec #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x fem!reader #dad!chris evans #fluff #chris evans x you #evansedit #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans x female reader

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morningberriesao3 · 8 months

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Bully!Scoops!Steve Harrington X Dom!Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve and Eddie don't get along. Never have, never will. One night, after their shifts end at the mall, Eddie finally releases some of that pent up aggression that he's been harbouring for years.

Word Count: 13.6 K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… mildly dubious consent, aggression, fight sex, hate sex, spit kink, internalized homophobia and homophobia language, aggression, face-fucking, under-negotiated kink, choking, gagging, car sex (semi-public), dirty talk, degradation, allusions to anal sex, anal play, cum eating, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, voyeurism, light s&m, light dacryphilia

Tags: enemies to lovers (but they’re actually enemies), Steve Harrington’s Scoops Ahoy uniform, Robin Buckley/Eddie Munson friendship, pre-season three, Eddie hates Steve

All characters are—and always will be—18 or older, whether explicitly stated or not

Hate the Way It Feels So Good

Eddie and Steve don’t get along.

It started as far back as middle school, when cliques started forming and kids started dividing themselves into two very distinct categories: cool, and not cool. They were basically on opposite sides of the spectrum. Natural born enemies.

Steve did things like toss balls into hoops and get sweaty in the gym with a bunch of other dudes, and then corner Eddie at lunch hour and call him the queer. As if he was the one chest to chest with Billy fucking Hargrove an hour earlier, sliding all over him in a tangle of pent-up testosterone.

But no, Eddie was the queer, because he spent his time playing Dungeons and Dragons with his fellow nerds.

At first, it was just another word that got tossed at him. Freak, loser, dork. Queer. At first, Eddie didn’t let it get to him.

Until he was fifteen years old, and he suddenly noticed Trevor Brown’s shoulder muscles underneath his t-shirt. The way they stretched the fabric and made it cling to them like plastic wrap. How the hem of that same shirt rode up above the band of his jeans when he lifted his arms above his head to expose a strip of skin. And how Eddie wanted to run his fingers on it.

The word queer from that day on felt like a bullet flying from a loaded gun.

For three years, Eddie tried to suppress those feelings. He dated Liv from his D&D club for half of that time—thought maybe he could learn to love a girl. To look at her skin the same way he’d looked at Trevor’s all those years ago.

Four months into dating, Eddie and Liv had sex. The whole time, it felt like there was a stone the size of a cherry pit stuck in Eddie’s throat. One that he couldn’t for the life of him swallow down. He didn’t want to look at her. Felt his fingers shaking with something that wasn’t lust as he dug them into her hips. Had to consciously remind himself to keep his eyes on her and not the ceiling, the walls, the pillows. Not to keep them squeezed shut.

He dated her for ten more months after that. They had sex a dozen more times. It never got easier.

Eddie’s friends would talk about their hookups, how good they felt. How they hoped they could do it again. And Eddie just felt nauseous at the thought. He’d make up excuses that he wouldn’t be home, that Wayne would be home, that he was sick, that he had homework, guitar lessons, a family obligation, a job interview. Anything to keep Liv out of his bedroom for as long as possible.

In April of 1984—Eddie’s first time in grade twelve—he decided to break things off. He had to focus on his grades next year, he said, and she was finished with high school, so he really didn’t have the time. All excuses, but she seemed to accept them without pause.

It was about a month after that, that Eddie went to Indianapolis and kissed another man for the first time. Three seconds into it before he realized exactly what his friends had been talking about—his body reacting in a way it never had before. Carnal desire. An urge to go further, to not stop. No cherry pit lodged in his tonsils.

The next months came with a lot of internal loathing. And then experimentation. And then… not quite acceptance. But something close.

It helped that he met band geek Robin Buckley near the end of the school year when they both happened to wander into the practice room one lunch hour. They bonded pretty quickly over music, even though their tastes didn’t intersect that often. But they were both unpopular and quirky and had very little filters, so it was easy enough to form a friendship.

Eddie was able to tell her one summer night as they got high by Lover’s Lake, that he thought he was gay. It only came out when she started blubbering about her crush on Tammy Thompson and then started blubbering harder to try to cover it up.

Needless to say, Eddie and Robin became very close, very fast. She was the only person who knew all of Eddie. And he was the only person who knew all of her.

Eddie was thrilled on Robin’s first day at Scoops Ahoy a year later. The ice cream shop sat directly parallel to Camelot Music where he worked a few hours most days after school, and even longer shifts on the weekends. He knew he’d be able to sit at his register and steal glances of his friend struggling to get through training, and then later, on the slower days, they’d be able to sneak into the hall and cause trouble.

His giddiness was squashed when he saw who the second hire was.

Steve Harrington, standing with his too-big hands on his swimmer’s hips, his eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of his nose, staring down at the buckets of Vanilla-Bean-Caramel and Pineapple-Raspberry ice cream as their boss showed them how to form a proper scoop. Robin stood next to him, looking far less perplexed—and annoyingly calm about having to work next to Eddie’s arch nemesis. Not that she really knew the extent of his hate, beyond the few times he muttered prick under his breath when Steve’s name was mentioned.

“He’s not that bad,” Robin had said when Eddie cornered her after her first shift.

“What do you mean he’s not that bad? He’s a total fuckwad.”

Robin simply shrugged one of her shoulders and said, “I never said he wasn’t.”

Eddie had let it drop that night. But it got harder and harder as time went on.

It was the last day of Steve Harrington’s high school career, 1985, when Eddie took his first swing at that perfect Roman nose of his.

Eddie had been minding his own fucking business in the cafeteria. He can’t remember exactly what had riled him up, but maybe he was being a little flamboyant in a public place. Sometimes he just can’t help himself. But he wasn’t hurting anybody as he scurried around his table and tried to make his friends laugh.

Jason Carver—prick supreme—had something to say about it (as always), flanked by none other than Steve Harrington, who seemed distracted as he zoned off into the distance. “Keep your voice down, freak.”

Sometimes, Eddie had enough control to keep his retorts to himself. But not this day. “You seem to seek me out these days, Carver. I would argue that you like my voice.”

Jason’s nose wrinkled. “You wish, queer.”

Steve seemed to zone back into reality, his eyes narrowing in on Jason and then on Eddie, who twisted his features up into a mockery of a flirtatious smile and said, all too sweetly, “Oh, I do wish. Why don’t you come on over tonight, Jason, and I’ll show you just how much.”

Steve choked on his own saliva then, as if he couldn’t hold back the gag from the thought of someone being gay. Or maybe more specifically, Eddie being gay. Either way, it pissed Eddie off to no end.

“You have an issue, Harrington?”

Steve’s eyes widened, but then he schooled his face back into a mask of nonchalance. “Nope.”

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like you have an issue.” Eddie stepped into Steve’s personal space. Their shoulders brushed against each other. “Maybe you want to come over instead. This queer can show you a great time.”

The look of pure horror on Steve’s face might have been hilarious if Eddie hadn’t been feeling so fired up. “Absolutely not, man. No way.”

“Bit of a bigot, are we, Stevie?” Eddie puffed himself up as big as he could get. His chest bumped into Steve, who took half a step back in shock.

“I didn’t say that,” Steve had said, almost defensively. For a second, Eddie almost thought he would turn around and leave him alone. Until Steve’s eyes found Jason’s, and he tacked on for good measure, “I’m just not like you.”

Eddie saw red. “Like me?”

“Yeah. You know. A fairy—”

Eddie’s fist nearly whistled through the air as he tried to connect it with Steve’s face. Only, Steve’s reflexes were pretty great after all his years training in whichever sports Eddie knew nothing about, so he managed to sidestep the swing. Jason grabbed Eddie’s wrist and laid his own punch against his cheekbone. Eddie landed flat on his ass in front of a growing crowd of school kids who were thrilled about a brawl breaking out.

Five minutes later, Eddie had found himself in the principal’s office, getting reprimanded about how next year would be his last chance to graduate, and how he was ruining his future by getting into fights, and maybe he just needed to go to church over the summer to help find his path in life.

Jason was asked if he was alright and was sent home with a pat on his back.

It has been two weeks since that incident. The cut on Eddie’s cheek from Jason’s knuckles has nearly healed.

He’s currently running his finger over what’s left of the scab, staring through slitted eyes at Harrington desperately trying to flirt with girls, even as he’s dressed in his stupid sailor’s outfit.

Eddie snickers to himself, watching the girls side-eye each other. They giggle condescendingly as they walk away from the ice cream counter. Another fallout.

He notices Robin take out a dry-erase marker to add another tally under the “You Suck” category of the T-chart she made for Steve. At least she’s humbling him, even if she doesn’t agree that he’s the worst person to ever walk the planet.

It’s a Saturday, nearing four o’clock. It’s time for Eddie’s break, and he always stops by Scoops to see if Robin can join him. This has led to way more interactions with Steve than he would ever like to admit, but they’re usually short-lived. Eddie glares at Steve, and Steve stares back at him like he might catch the Freak Disease if he gets too close. It’s a routine.

He hands the keys to his coworker and slowly makes his way across the tiles of the wide mall hallway. Steve sees his approach, and Eddie can see the panic set in. Steve’s puppy eyes go large, and he turns quickly on his heels. He tears the dumb sailor’s hat from his perfectly coiffed hair, saying something unintelligible to Robin.

Her eyes lock on Eddie just as he approaches the register. “Ahoy, Eddie. Are you ready to set sail on this ocean of fla—”

“Can it, Robin,” Steve cuts in from his now lazy stance at the back of the shop. “You don’t need to do the whole spiel to Munson every time he visits you at work.”

“But it’s funny,” she argues. She turns to Eddie. “Don’t you think it’s funny?”

“It’s hilarious,” Eddie says. Any chance to disagree with Harrington. “I would be so disappointed if you were to stop. Please, continue?”

“Are you ready to set sail on this ocean of flavour?” Robin wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at Eddie. “I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Har—”

“I knew it!” Steve whines. “I knew this was a way for you to make fun of me!”

Robin unleashes a vault of snort-laughter that sounds like she’s been holding it in all day. Eddie has to physically contain himself from joining along, especially when he sees how disgruntled Steve looks from the low blow.

“It’s not like I want to say that shit,” Steve continues. “They told me to. I’m just doing my job—I just—It’s just—”

Eddie slaps his hand over his mouth, but he can’t stop himself from giggling alongside Robin. It’s especially ironic that Steve is so pressed about getting made fun of when just two weeks ago, he was joining alongside Jason to do that very thing to Eddie. Call it karma.

“Whatever.” Steve crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Assholes. Leave me alone. Customers are coming.”

Robin takes her time slipping her hat from her head and placing it on a stool behind her. The group of young women appear in front of Steve, who also abandons his hat. Showing off his hair must be the only chance he has at getting laid anymore.

“Ahoy ladies, I’m St—” Steve’s eyes dart sideways to a snickering Robin, and then at Eddie who can feel one of his brows raised like a dare. Steve clears his throat. “I’m Steve. What can I get for you?”

Eddie scoffs at the same time Robin snorts and says, “See you in an hour, Dingus.”

Steve ignores her.

They leave the ice cream shop and make their way to the Burger King in the opposite corner of the food court. Finally, Eddie feels far away enough to ask, “Dingus?”

“Yeah.” Robin scans the menu behind the counter like she’s not just going to order the chicken sandwich. “He’s totally a dingus. I thought you’d agree on that one.”

“There are a lot of colourful words I’d use to describe Steve Harrington,” Eddie mumbles. “But I guess a dingus is a start.”

“There’s the spirit.” Robin slaps Eddie on the back, totally unaware that he is once again stewing over the jock that makes his life a living hell. “Let me buy you something. Whopper or Nuggets?”

“Nuggets. And fries, because all this talk about Steve is really putting me through it.”

“He’s really not that—”

“Not that bad. I know, you’ve said so a thousand times. But do you see my damn cheek?” Eddie points to the nearly healed wound like Robin hasn’t watched it through the red-to-purple-to-yellow healing phases.

She purses her lips and seems to choose her next words carefully. “Right. Okay. But from what I understand, Steve didn’t punch you. Jason did.”

Eddie stares at her incredulously. “Seriously? You’re gonna get hung up on the details? He called me a—” he lowers his voice to a whisper “—a fairy.”

“I know. And that is seriously not cool. But Jason called you a queer,” Robin retorts, just as quietly. “Fairy is better than the other F word he could have said.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him.” Eddie points to the cashier who is now waiting to take their order. “I also want a Coke.”

Robin rolls her eyes but buys Eddie his meal, which he thinks is the bare minimum that he deserves after all this emotional distress.

The hour seems to fly by, and Eddie thanks whatever power there might be in the universe that Steve doesn’t get mentioned again. Until the walk back to their respective jobs.

“Oh—I forgot to mention. Steve is taking over the closing shift tonight, so I won’t be catching a ride with you.”

Eddie hovers between Camelot Music and Scoops. “Ugh. It’s so desolate here for closing. You better hope I don’t get murdered walking alone in the parking lot after dark.”

“You’ll be fine.” Robin turns away, heading towards Steve who looks like he’s struggling with a gaggle of children ordering milkshakes and sundaes. Eddie swears he hears her breathe under her breath, “Steve will be here.”

Eddie tries not to let that statement paint his face in a scowl for the rest of his shift, but as he inches closer to the clock chiming 9pm, he feels himself failing. It is way too obvious that, yes, Steve will be there as he closes shop. The rest of the food court close their doors at 8, but for some reason the owner of Scoops thinks that an ice cream shop has to stay open late. Like there are children that will be needing their sugar fix before bedtime.

As if.

There are a few other stores besides Camelot that also close at 9, but they’re located near Entrance C. Meaning, for the last hour of his shift, Eddie is forced to stare at Steve pacing behind the fluorescent lights of his ice cream coolers while he sits and simmers behind his own register.

Every now and then, Eddie swears he can see Steve look over in his direction. But each time he turns his head to catch him and hopefully be able to scream out what the fuck do you want?, Steve’s gaze is back on his Nikes.

It’s a major relief when it’s finally 9, and Eddie can swing the gates closed to the front of Camelot. He decides to take longer than usual to tidy up shop, carefully folding the t-shirt display and making sure to pull stock forward on the shelves so they look full for the morning staff. He cashes out, drops the envelope into the safe in the ground, and wipes off the counter. The lights in the front of Scoops have been off for roughly seven minutes (not that Eddie has been staring at the clock since they went dark), so he figures it’s safe to leave from the back entrance.

The heavy door latches behind him as he steps into the giant parking lot. He’d only been half joking with Robin at the mention of getting murdered. It would be a prime spot for some crimes to be committed after dark like this—only a few vehicles still scattered the pavement, far and few between. His van is the farthest of them all.

Regardless, he sucks in a breath and starts to make his way across the eerily quiet lot. It only takes him a few seconds to get a strange tingling sensation on the back on his neck, like he’s being watched. He opens his ears, realises that he can hear a second set of footsteps beyond his own. And they sound close.

Eddie whirs around with his fingers clenched into fists, ready to strike at—

“Steve?” Eddie huffs a sigh of relief, but then realises he still might be very much in danger of getting his ass kicked. He keeps his hands balled up. “What the fuck, man? Why are you following me?”

Steve isn’t exactly geared up to fight. He’s walking on the other side of the lane, his hands in his pockets. Maybe not relaxed, but a lot more relaxed than Eddie feels.

“I’m not following you. I’m walking to my car.” Steve lifts one of his hands from his pockets to point at the burgundy BMW parked a few dozen feet away from Eddie’s van. “I closed. Didn’t Robin tell you?”

“She did, but you closed up ten minutes before I left. You should be gone.”

Steve shrugs. “I was in the back.”

“Convenient,” Eddie says under his breath, mostly to himself. “Look, man, I’m really not in the mood to get jumped tonight. My face is barely back to normal from the last time.”

“Uhuh. How’s that healing?” Steve’s eyes trail over Eddie’s body, like he’s scanning for damage. Eddie feels himself tense under the scrutiny, wondering why Steve might be sizing him up. What kind of carnage he has in mind. Why it sounds like he’s actually curious about Eddie’s face and not being sarcastic. Impossible. “About what I said—”

“What,” Eddie spits, “that I’m a fairy?”

“Yeah—”

“You know, I find it funny.” Eddie keeps his voice low and menacing, a nod to his DM charade he puts on for Hellfire Club. “You go around calling me a fairy like you aren’t the one who got his ass beat by the quiet, gentle photographer not that long ago.”

Steve’s face twists up in confusion. “Byers?”

“Mhmm. I thought you were supposed to be king. Oh—but wait—that title was recently taken from you, wasn’t it? By… who was it again? Oh, yeah, Billy Hargrove.” Eddie’s teeth ache around the name. If there’s anyone who gives Steve a run for his money being Captain Asshole, it’s Billy. “He’s the one I saw you rolling around with, all sweaty and topless in the gym, isn’t it?”

Steve’s face seems to stain red. “He’s on the basketball team.”

“I don’t know. It all seems a little”—Eddie waggles his fingers—“homoerotic to me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It seems as if Steve has to physically swallow down his rage. Eddie knows it’s not safe to poke the bear, but he just can’t help how he gets around the guy.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Let me dumb it down a bit for you, Stevie. Put it in terms you understand.” He gets so close to Steve’s face that they almost bump noses. “Queer. It seems queer.”

Steve’s jaw visibly twitches, and Eddie can see that his fingernails are biting into the palm of his hands, much like his own. “I’m not like that.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie condescends, “but each time it’s feeling more and more like an excuse.”

“Shut up.” Steve’s hands twitch at his sides as if they’re begging to be unleashed in a fit of rage. It should be enough to make Eddie back down.

But his own fists are trembling. And his heart is hammering. And he’s filled with a heat that he needs to let escape.

He takes a step into Steve, who stumbles back to create more space between them. “Is that what this is, Harrington? Some sort of coping mechanism?”

“Shut up.” Steve’s eyes seem tumultuous beneath their hazel irises. His skin is staining red. His jaw looks locked.

Just a few more words.

“Are you…” Eddie makes his voice sound mockingly disappointed. Disgusted. “Are you a fag?”

Steve’s composure snaps.

A fist full of Eddie’s t-shirt is suddenly clenched inside one of Steve’s unforgiving fists, tightening around the base of his neck, pulling him flush into the solid mass of Steve’s chest.

The breath is knocked out of him. His hands instinctually grasp around Steve’s grip as he’s virtually hoisted onto his tiptoes. Even though they’re of similar height, it seems that Steve is staring down the bridge of his nose at Eddie. He can feel hot breath puffing against his lips that smells as if Steve just had a smoke.

Eddie braces himself for impact—his own doing, really. But at least he got a word in edge wise. He knew he’d never be able to beat Steve in a fight.

But Steve just… keeps him there. Menacingly close. Bodies shoved against one another. His eyes bore into Eddie’s threateningly. Eddie feels a rush of endorphins, excited to see what Steve does next.

For what seems like ages, Steve doesn’t make a move. Eddie sees the bob of his throat when he swallows, and the angry glimmer in his eye extinguish. He drops Eddie’s shirt and takes a step back.

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds as he regains his footing. He’s not sure why Steve didn’t take his chance. There’s nobody else in sight. They’re even out of view from the closest road.

And for some reason… he’s disappointed. He knows he doesn’t really want a shiner. But the way Steve was staring at him—is still staring at him—he’s curious what might have come of… whatever just happened.

His body is still twitching with pent up energy, and anger towards Steve for the last years of his life that have been a living hell thanks to him, and Eddie already feels accomplished standing up for himself. So he takes it one step further.

Eddie looks straight into Steve’s eyes, and says, “Pussy.”

And he spits straight onto Steve’s white and red Nikes.

He turns before he knows what Steve’s reaction might be. He feels invigorated, and wildly in danger. And all he needs to do is get to his van, get out of the parking lot and he would feel like he won.

But Eddie barely makes it outside of his van before Steve is bulldozing into him, rougher than before. The metal wall of his van makes a hallow thump as Steve drives him face-first into it, one arm slung around Eddie’s neck in a chokehold, the other locking around his waist and elbows to immobilize him.

“You think you’re gonna spit on me and just walk away, Munson?”

Eddie squirms in Steve’s grip, shivering against the hot feeling of Steve’s breath so close to his ear. The wall of his van is cold as it’s pressed up against his cheek. And for some reason Eddie can’t explain, all he can think about is the press of Steve’s crotch against his ass, driving him forward, his fly dragging across his hip—

No. No.

That’s not what this is.

That’s not even what he wants. Steve is the bane of his existence, not some hot bar hookup in the alleyway.

“Fuck you, man. Get off me!” Eddie struggles against Steve’s grip. It shouldn’t surprise him how strong he is, considering the guy plays sports 24/7, but he’s a little taken aback when he can’t even get Steve to let up by one measly inch.

Steve only presses harder into him. Eddie’s cheek smooshes against the cold side of his van, probably smearing dirt all over his cheek. It’s been ages since he’s washed it. “You’re the one who fucking spat on me, Munson.”

“And I’d do it again,” Eddie growls, twisting his face up into what he hopes is an intimidating smile.

“Bullshit.” Steve ruts against Eddie so hard that his chin hits his van and snaps his jaw shut. But then, just as quickly, he’s free from Steve’s crazy wrestler’s headlock. He twists around as fast as he can manage, only to find that Steve didn’t step too far away. He’s just standing there, cockily, like he doesn’t believe Eddie could harm a single perfect hair on his head. “Do it then.”

Eddie gawks back at him, slightly phased by Steve’s dare. “What?”

“Try it,” he repeats. “See, I think past your hard exterior and don’t-give-two-shits personality, you don’t actually have the balls to pick a fight with anyone, let alone me—”

Eddie feels a fire travelling to his head. It’s uncontrollable. In a normal circumstance, Steve would be right; Eddie would like to remain lowkey, keep himself out of trouble. But he refuses to let Steve Harrington, of all people, bully him into backing down.

So he purses his lips and spits right onto Steve’s, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Eddie can see his saliva caught on the bottom of Steve’s mouth as it hangs open in stunned silence. It travels down his chin, and then across the angle of his jaw. Finally, it drips onto the pavement below their feet.

He knows he’s essentially started a war, so Eddie balls up his fists and waits for Steve’s next move. What he wasn’t expecting, was for Steve’s tongue to flick out and catch the bead of spit that still remained on his pout; and even less, him sucking that lower lip between his teeth to clean it off.

The breath is sucked right out of his lungs as Steve stares straight into his eyes and catches the collar of his shirt in his hand once more. There noses bump against each other. And their foreheads. And their chests.

“You fucking freak,” Steve says lowly. But it’s paired with his thigh shoving between Eddie’s legs hard enough that it makes his balls ache as his driven against the side of his van. He tries to stop it, but his cock twitches, the seam of his jeans rubbing against it in a frustratingly amazing way.

Something about the threat of violence mixed with friction, a body pressed against his own, a low voice growling in his ear, and an objectively attractive man, gets Eddie going. Even though he’s ashamed that he’s getting hot over a guy he was more than thrilled to see beaten to a pulp earlier in the year.

He wiggles against Steve’s thigh. It doesn’t help the throbbing between his legs. “Back away, Harrington.”

“Make me.”

“I swear to God…”

“What? You swear to God, what?”

“You have three fucking seconds, man!” Eddie shouts. What comes after three seconds? He’s not sure. But that’s all Steve has before Eddie does it.

The threat doesn’t help. Steve starts counting down with a sneer on his face. “Three… Two…”

All of Eddie’s pent up rage channels through his fist.

“One!” Eddie finishes, and clips Steve in the jaw with his knuckles. It sends a shock through his wrist, up into his forearm.

There are a few things that go through Eddie’s mind in that moment.

First, he’s wildly proud of physically standing up for himself. It has been years of letting guys like Harrington and Carver and Hagan touch him without repercussion. It’s time he got a real hit in.

Second—even more than being proud—he’s frightened. Because Steve’s gaze is so fiery that he swears he can almost see his eyes starting to glow red.

This brings Eddie to his third and final thought. That he’s about to die. Because Steve is going to fucking kill him. He’s kind of ashamed to admit that his tummy hurts from the nerves of it all.

Steve only stumbles backwards half a step, Eddie’s shirt still balled up in one of his fists, whose legs are still splayed around Harrington’s strong thigh. Steve’s free hand comes up to wipe at his lip, which Eddie now notices has a split in it that is starting to bloom red. They both stare at his skin stained up with blood as he wipes it away.

“You…” Steve starts, his eyes wild as they dart around Eddie’s face. “You made me bleed.”

Eddie swallows down his fear, manages to spit out, quietly, “You deserve it.”

Antagonizing a guy who has thirty pounds on him is probably not the best idea. But he’s already done the worst. Might as well really commit to the schtick.

He holds his breath. Waits for Steve to make the next move, which he assumes will be his own split lip, maybe another bruised cheekbone, maybe a broken nose.

Steve’s thigh presses even harder between his legs. Eddie’s balls throb against the pressure of it, the feeling of his weight bearing down on Steve’s leg, the solidity of his knee. Eddie tries to wiggle his way away from the pain, but it stirs something in the pit of his stomach. The familiar feeling of pleasure, a need for Steve to move against him.

Eddie makes a noise, soft and quiet. It could mean anything, really; that he’s uncomfortable, or scared, or even angry.

Only he knows for sure what it really means.

That he’s turned on. That his cock is twitching as blood starts to rush south.

And that he really needs to get off Steve’s thigh before he sees it. Feels it.

“Steve,” Eddie says desperately, his toes barely scraping the pavement below them. Each time he moves, it makes his dick pulse. He wants to wiggle away, but he knows it will only hinder him. And if Steve finds out that Eddie’s getting hard, he’ll probably be beaten within an inch of his life.

That’s why he’s shocked when Steve rams forward, and aggressively presses his lips onto Eddie’s.

There’s this moment where, rationally, Eddie cannot believe that Steve is kissing him. His mouth is parted in shock, he can feel Steve’s hot breath, his smoky tongue shoving deep into Eddie’s mouth, the distinct flavour of blood—a coppery tang—dancing on his tastebuds. And for a second—purely on instinct—he kisses back. The wet slide of their tongues gliding together, as brief as it is, makes Eddie groan into Steve’s mouth.

But then, reality strikes.

He shoves against Steve’s chest, forcing their faces apart. “What the fuck, man!”

Steve stumbles back, his leg finally dislodging from between Eddie’s. He wipes at the corner of his mouth, maybe to catch the blood, or maybe the spit. He looks wild as he stares into Eddie’s eyes. “What? You gonna hit me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. His face is burning up. With rage, with desire. The line between the two is starting to blur. “It seems like you’re asking for it.”

“Maybe I am,” Steve says, with a glimmer in his eye that challenges Eddie. Some sort of silent communication. A dare, or… an invitation?

Eddie swallows down the feeling that this must be some sort of joke, that Steve’s trying to catch him in some sort of gay act that he can use as fuel against him to make his life a living hell. But Steve wouldn’t kiss Eddie just to get a reaction from him. He rationally knows that. But still, his eyes scan the parking lot, searching for any signs of Steve’s friends who might be waiting for the opportunity to jump him.

There’s nothing. No one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he makes a fast and impulsive decision, slipping the key into the back door of his van and prying the doors open.

Eddie points inside. “Get the fuck in.”

A few second pass, Eddie nearly drowning in nerves that maybe he’s reading the situation wrong. Maybe this isn’t some kink thing for Steve, maybe the kiss wasn’t a kiss and was… fuck, he doesn’t even know.

But he doesn’t have to worry too long, because Steve—jaw tight—pushes past Eddie, and hauls himself into the back of the van. His head bows under the low ceiling as he circles back, gives Eddie a look somewhere between inquisitive and angry, and then finally sits down on a crumpled blanket. His shoulders rest against the back of the passenger seat, his legs bent and spread in front of him.

Steve reaches down and squeezes between his legs, where Eddie just now notices the distinct outline of his cock, sitting sideways in his little blue shorts against his hip bone. Against his better judgement, his mouth waters.

A large part of him wants to ask Steve what’s going on. What he wants. How far this thing is supposed to go. Whether or not it’s a game.

But the other part of Eddie—albeit, the smaller one—already knows the answers to those questions.

He pulls all of his confidence out of the recesses of his mind, decides then and there that he’s running the show. That Steve likes him running the show.

“Pathetic,” he says, letting all of his malice towards high school jocks, towards Steve, seep into his tone. “You’re getting stiff from a split lip and my spit running down your face.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just fists his fingers into the blanket under his body. He cants his hips forward, as if he’s answering Eddie. Showing him just how hard he really is by displaying the bulge in the front of his shorts.

Eddie holds back the moan that he desperately wants to loose.

He’s seen Steve in a state of undress before. Not completely, but enough to know that the panes of his chest are flat and solid, that his skin always seems sun kissed, even in the winter, that he has a patch of chest hair that he’s started to grow out since quitting the swim team. He’s always noticed the lump in the front of Steve’s Levi’s. Knew that he was packing from that alone.

But now he can see just how big Steve really is as his cock strains beneath his uniform.

Eddie takes a step forward, cocks his head to one side as he sizes Steve up.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” he says.

Another step forward.

Steve’s brows twitch inward, almost apologetically, but he still doesn’t say anything. Just stares up at Eddie with the biggest, roundest hazel eyes he’s ever seen.

Eddie shoves his boot between Steve’s Nikes, uses it to pry Steve’s legs further apart.

A small gasp escapes Steve’s lips as his knees fall open, the hems of his shorts riding up his thighs. Eddie lets himself ogle the strength of Steve’s legs, how the hair that grows on them thins on the soft inner portion, the closer it gets to his crotch.

He plants his boots on either side of Steve’s hips, bends down to grip his fingers in the red bow on the front of Steve’s shirt. “What a fruity little costume. Where’s your hat?”

Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Pocket.”

“Put it on.”

Steve lifts his hips, his right hand reaching under him to fish out his uniform’s hat from the back of his shorts. Eddie tries not to tremble as Steve’s crotch gets closer to him. He suppresses the urge to sink down onto it, to feel the outline of Steve’s cock against his ass. To rut against it and listen to the noises he can ring out of Steve.

Steve quietly places the hat on his head, fidgeting with his hair, adjusting the way it sits. Eddie reaches out and smacks away Steve’s hand.

He condescendingly studies Steve, makes sure to really stew in the silence as he trails his eyes over Steve’s appearance, from the dumb hat to the dumb shirt, to the… strangely not dumb shorts. At least, not dumb in the way they fit Steve, the way they look riding up his thighs.

Slowly, Eddie sinks down onto his knees, hovering over Steve’s crotch. Only inches separate them, where Steve is hard and Eddie is now almost just as hard, and for a moment he thinks about how bazaar this all is. But he decides not to focus on that.

“Ahoy,” Eddie says, his voice low and amused as he flicks his fingers over the brim of Steve’s hat. He leans further down, feels the brush of Steve’s upper thighs against the ass of his jeans, hears the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He slaps away the dumb hat, watches it fly to the other side of the van. “Never mind. You look better without it.”

Then, he lowers himself the rest of the way, until he’s fully seated in Steve’s lap. Their faces are inches apart. Steve’s eyes are blown and glassy, and Eddie can feel the subtle twitch of his thighs as he presses himself harder onto Steve’s crotch.

“Shit,” Steve breathes. His hands loosen from their balls by his hips, lift up to instead splay on Eddie’s thighs as they clench around Steve.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Eddie laces his fingers through the thick top of Steve’s hair. He can feel the crunch of hairspray as he tugs Steve’s head back, exposing the long column of his throat. The tendons strain as Eddie twists his hand tighter in Steve’s locks, forcing his head sideways. “Seems a little gay to me, Stevie.”

“Shut up—Ah!” Steve cries out as Eddie tugs harder; he can feel the tension of Steve’s scalp as he forces his head so far back that the angle of his jawline is right by his lips.

Since the opportunity presents itself, he leans forward and drags his mouth against the line of Steve’s jaw. Steve smells like the remnants of the expensive cologne that still clings to his neck after his shift, like the cigarette he’d been smoking in the lot, like sweat and man.

It drives Eddie crazy, makes him open his mouth and nip down behind Steve’s ear sharply, then run his tongue over the spot he pinched when Steve whimpers softly at the pain.

“Look at you,” Eddie says lowly, trailing his teeth down Steve’s neck. He can feel his heart beating erratically under his lips as they trace his pulse point, can feel the bob of his throat as Steve swallows his nerves. “So excited to have another man in your lap.”

“I’m not gay.” The denial in Steve’s voice is genuine.

A part of Eddie feels bad, like he should drop it, like he shouldn’t push. But it feels good to make Steve suffer for all the years he said the same things about Eddie. At least this was between them. Eddie hadn’t been so lucky when he’d been called queer in front of the entire school.

So he lifts his head higher, bites on Steve’s lower lip, sucks on the split to force blood back up to the surface. He can tell it hurts as Steve twitches away, but he soon leans into Eddie’s kiss when it softens again, parting his lips to let Eddie lick deep into him mouth.

“No?” he says, pulling back from Steve even though the latter chases his lips with his own. “Then why do you love my tongue so much, hmm?” He grinds his ass against Steve’s straining cock, makes him moan into his face. “Why are you ready to bust from me touching you?”

Steve’s eyes flutter open. He looks conflicted, but past the point of coherency. “I don’t know. I—I don’t know.”

“You want to know what I think?” Eddie doesn’t give Steve a chance to respond, just lowers his face until he can feel the brush of Steve’s ear on his lips. He whispers, “I think you’re the fairy.”

“No!” Steve cries, but his hips grind against Eddie as he chases the friction he craves.

“Oh, baby.” Eddie circles his hips. He can feel the line of Steve’s cock getting caught on the back seam of his jeans each time he moves, Steve’s eyes rolling into the back of his skull like it’s driving him mad. “Then why are you about to take my cock into your mouth?”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he starts to shake his head, but Eddie is already climbing from Steve’s lap, pulling him by the collar of his shirt onto his hands and knees.

Like a good boy, he stays where Eddie moves him.

“Take this off,” Eddie says with another tug of Steve’s shirt. He untangles his hand from the fabric, leans back to watch as Steve grabs it by the hem and pulls it from his shoulders. Steve’s abs flutter and tighten as he tosses his uniform across the van, and resumes his position on all fours. “Fuck. That’s good.”

Eddie straightens out on his knees. His belt clinks as he undoes the heavy buckle, Steve’s eyes bugging out when he undoes his button and tugs down his fly.

“I’m not—”

“Shut up,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve’s eyes are latched onto Eddie’s cock tenting his boxers, his pink lips pulled between his teeth.

Eddie leans forward, popping his thumb into Steve’s mouth instead.

“Open wide.” He pries Steve’s jaw open with a twist of his fingers. If he’s being honest, he’s not met with much resistance. Steve’s mouth just kind of falls open willingly. “Stick your tongue out.”

A small moan falls from Steve’s throat as his tongue lolls out of his mouth, dripping and pink, pushing on Eddie’s thumb. He runs it against the valley of Steve’s tongue, spreading around the little pool of spit that makes his cock kick under his boxers.

“Now stay still,” Eddie says, bringing his wet thumb to the front of his underwear. He shoves them down, his cock springing free so close to Steve’s face that he has a hard time not immediately ramming forward. He tucks the band under his balls, drawing them tighter against his body, creating a delicious pressure that makes him throb with want.

He wraps his fingers around his shaft, gently. He doesn’t want to work himself up too quickly, wants this thing that’s happening to last as long as it can. He knows his dick is already wet from how much he’s leaking, but he still brings his thumb—covered in Steve’s spit—to circle the slit of his cock.

Steve’s eyes watch, transfixed, as Eddie pulls away—a string of his precum connecting this thumb and the reddened tip of his cock.

“Jesus,” Steve says, his voice full of lust. His sticks his tongue back out before Eddie has to tell him to, a long rope of saliva falling from it onto the van’s floor.

Eddie is so hard that his cock is curving upwards, the veins under his skin so swollen that they seem as if they might burst. It feels like it’s a real possibility.

“How many cocks have you sucked before, Steve?” Eddie asks, carding his hand through Steve’s hair once again. He wraps the tendrils around his fingers, tugs Steve forward.

Steve shakes his head in answer, but he doesn’t close his mouth, doesn’t put is tongue back between his lips.

With his left hand, Eddie guides his dick towards Steve’s face. The tip of it grazes Steve’s forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. Across his cheeks. It leaves a little shining trail in its wake.

“That’s okay.” Eddie rubs his cockhead against the expanse of Steve’s tongue. He rings his fingers around himself, pushes forward until he milks a drop of precum from his slit. He wipes it so it mixes with Steve’s saliva in a little pool in his mouth. “I’ll teach you.”

He sinks forward.

The glide of Steve’s tongue is delicious as Eddie moves against it. There’s not a lot of anything, besides the heat and the wetness, but just the visual of it all really gets Eddie going. Steve’s eyes shine up at him, nearly black, never breaking eye contact even as Eddie watches him with unwavering attention.

“Fuck,” he hisses as Steve moves forward on his own. The tip of his cock glides against the roof of his mouth, inches towards the back of his throat.

Eddie pulls back, and rocks forward. Pulls back and rocks forward. Each time he moves deeper into Steve’s mouth he earns a noise from Steve, a hum or a grunt. Spit starts to leak from the side of Steve’s lips; he tries to pull away from Eddie to wipe at it, but Eddie tugs his head further forward and says, “Leave it. I like it messy. Oh my God, this feels good.”

He grips even tighter at Steve’s hair, pulls his head back before shoving him forward again. This time, he feels his cock hit the back of Steve’s throat. It constricts around him as Steve gags. And it feels fucking incredible.

“Shit, Steve.” He rams his hips forward, his cock spearing into Steve with a force that makes him wretch and spasm, makes his mouth go slippery with saliva. Steve’s eyes start watering—he tries to gasp for air when Eddie pulls back, but he fucks back into Steve’s throat before he can manage. “Your mouth…”

He pitches forward again, as deep as he can go. At this point, Steve is struggling against him, desperate for a breath as Eddie’s dick literally chokes him. He’s trying to tear out of Eddie’s grip, his eyes squeezed shut, but still rimmed in red as they stream tears. But Eddie has a vice grip in Steve’s hair, keeping him stilled as his throat pulses around his dick.

And Eddie knows he should back off and let Steve get some air, he knows he should give Steve’s throat a break from the assault of his cock ramming into it. But Steve’s nose is buried in Eddie’s pubes, his balls are pressed against Steve’s chin that’s sopping wet from how much he’s drooling.

And he likes seeing Steve struggle.

He likes that Steve is trying to escape. That the pleasure has probably toppled into a type of pain for him. He likes seeing how small Steve looks on his hands and knees, likes seeing him cry, likes seeing him break under Eddie’s will. He has the power, whether to let Steve breathe. And he doesn’t want him to.

Eddie ruts forward again, even though there’s nowhere for him to go. Steve’s throat tightens around him even more as he gags aggressively around Eddie’s cock, as he shakes his head back and forth, really grapples against Eddie’s hold.

“That’s it,” Eddie growls, the ball of pleasure coiling tight in his lower abdomen. “That’s it—fucking—swallow—"

Steve’s throat tries, but he’s not thinking clearly. His eyes spring open now, in fear. He hasn’t breathed for probably 45 seconds; his jaw is closing reflexively around Eddie’s dick, his teeth scraping sharply against his swollen shaft.

Eddie kind of likes it.

But as much as Eddie wants to push the boundaries, he finally retreats.

Steve starts hacking up a lung as he bows his head, catches himself on the floor with one hand while the other clutches his chest. He gasps. And then gasps, and gasps, and chokes on his own spit that falls out of his mouth in filthy little rivers.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eddie says, because he literally cannot help himself when Steve is so wrecked in front of him. But to dilute the sentiment a bit he adds, “At least you’re good for something.”

Steve whimpers as he palms at his crotch. Eddie can see a dark blue patch where his cock has wept through the fabric of his shorts.

“Eddie,” he moans, squeezing at his engorged dick over and over again, chasing his own pleasure as if he’s right on the brink. Just like Eddie is.

So he liked getting his throat fucked.

Eddie feels his balls drawing close to his body just thinking about Steve’s desperation. He wants to touch Steve but he also wants to watch Steve suffer after all the shit he put him through.

“Turn over.” Eddie grabs his cock, strokes it as he watches Steve’s eyes go wide once again, face wet from tears and drool, lips swollen, cheeks red.

“What?”

“Turn the fuck over, dude. Now.” He grabs at Steve’s shoulder and digs his fingers into his flesh as he pulls him sideways.

“I—I don’t want you to fuck me,” Steve says, afraid again. But he follows Eddie’s direction, flipping over in the opposite direction. His slutty little Scoops shorts strain tightly over his ass, makes it look round and definitely fuckable.

As much as Eddie knows he’s already been a lot—would like to continue to be a lot, make Steve squirm and cry and fucking scream—he’s really not that much of an asshole to force himself on Steve when he says no.

But Eddie has no issues with making it seem like he is.

“Do you think I give a fuck?” he says lowly as he bends forward to press his lips into the shell of Steve’s ear. “Arch your back for me.”

He straightens up, smacks his hand on the curve of Steve’s back, and pushes. Eddie pushed until Steve’s spine is bowed in, his cheek plastered against the blanket on the floor, his ass high and his knees spread. His other hand runs against the jut of Steve’s ass, grips into its flesh so hard that he’ll leave a handprint.

Steve moans unabashedly, his mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezing shut. His hands flounder to grab onto something, eventually stretching straight forward to grip at the base of the passenger’s seat. His hips push into Eddie’s hands like he wants more.

Who is Eddie to say no?

He curls his pointer fingers, tucks them under the waistband of Steve’s shorts. He tugs enough to slip them down a couple of inches on Steve’s hips, but not enough to strip him completely.

“This uniform should never have been approved,” Eddie muses, tugging the shorts down even more. Steve’s ass is halfway nude, Eddie ogling at the seam down his body like it leads to a pot of literal gold. “Why did they make these shorts so tight?”

“Just—just take them off, dude,” Steve pants from where he’s basically buried in the blanket by his head.

Eddie pauses, cocks his head sideways to stare down at Steve. “You’re not exactly in a position to make requests, dude. I’ll do what I want to do.”

A sound of indignity escapes Steve. Maybe a scoff, or a moan, or a whimper. Kind of a mix of all three.

“In fact,” Eddie continues, “maybe I’ll stop here. Maybe your shorts will just stay on the whole time.”

“No,” Steve cries in complaint as Eddie pulls his shorts back up onto his hips.

It’s not a real threat. There’s no way in Hell that Eddie would end this thing without getting a good look at Steve’s cock. He’s heard rumours in the halls of Hawkins High, wants to know if any of them ring true. Although, he can already tell by the thick outline between Steve’s legs that the rumour about Harrington having a massive dick is more than true. Overly true.

There’s a part of Eddie that wishes this wouldn’t be a one-time thing, even though every rational part of his brain is telling him it will be. He wants to find out if any of the other rumours are true too—if Steve really is good with his mouth, if he fucks like a god, if he’s able to go more than one round.

Some things, unfortunately, are bound to stay a mystery.

But for now, Eddie has Steve pliant underneath him, moving where he moves, bending where he bends. He’s going to enjoy it.

He grabs at Steve’s hips, brings them towards where his dick is still hard and wet. The tip of his length runs along the fabric, leaves a little wet trail where Eddie guides it over Steve’s clothed asscheeks, and then the seam down the middle of his shorts. He rams his hips forward, so his cock shoves between Steve’s legs from behind.

Eddie knows his cock is dragging where Steve’s balls are more than likely aching underneath his clothes. He knows he feels it too when Steve groans and shoves his ass even harder into Eddie’s hips.

“Oh, fuck.” Steve rocks forward, slams back once more against Eddie where his dick is nestled between Steve’s spread thighs. “Fuck, yeah, keep doing that.”

Eddie guides Steve’s hips roughly, starts fucking against Steve with intention.

The van rocks each time Eddie’s hips slap into Steve’s cheeks, the windows starting to fog up as they both pant into the stale air. It’s humid and muggy, everything feels sticky and damp, and it’s so incredibly hot. Eddie secretly wants to run his tongue over the panes of Steve’s chest, wants to trail it between the defined lines of his muscles like it’s some sort of maze. He wants to bury his face in the patch of chest hair that Steve has between his pecs, trail his mouth over his nipples, catch the beads of sweat that run into it from his neck.

But all of that is too much. He can’t do that with Steve, hasn’t even done that with anyone. Eddie knows he has to keep things impersonal, but that doesn’t stop his desire from rearing its ugly head.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Eddie says, pitching his hips so far forward that he can feel the heat of Steve’s erection on the top of his own. His mouth runs away from his as he repeats, “I want to fuck you. Want to watch you take my cock.”

Steve whines, his knuckles going white from how hard they’re gripping the base of the seat in front of him. “No, I don’t—I don’t want that.”

“Yes, you do. You want cock up your ass—admit it. You want my cock up your ass.”

“No. No.” One of Steve’s hands fly backwards, grabs at Eddie’s hips. It holds him painfully close, enough that Eddie can feel the tremor in Steve’s thighs, the pulse of his cock as it sits untouched in his shorts.

“Think about how good it’ll feel, Steve. I bet you fuck yourself with your fingers all the time. I bet you wish it was me.”

Eddie can feel how close he is to coming. Ten seconds is all he has to decide what he wants to do, if he’ll stain up Steve’s pretty uniform and make it unwearable for tomorrow’s shift. It’s a tempting idea. But Eddie wants to feel Steve’s skin against him before he’s spent.

He pulls away from Steve; his cock bucking wildly against his abdomen from the loss of stimulation. It’s red and raw where he was rubbing against the fabric of Steve’s shorts, and Eddie knows it’ll be uncomfortable tomorrow.

No part of him cares.

“Take these off,” Eddie says, but he’s already pulling Steve’s shorts off before the other man can comprehend his words.

The seams pop as Eddie pulls them down Steve’s thighs, down to his knees where they draw close together from the restriction of the fabric. Which just won’t do, really, so Eddie tears them down further, until they’re pulled past Steve’s knee-high socks.

Those are definitely staying on, Eddie decides as he stares down at a completely naked Steve. It’s like something from a porno mag as Steve resumes his position, spreading his knees and arching his back, the slutty little socks the only piece of clothing left on him.

And from this angle, everything is exposed. Eddie’s eyes glue between Steve’s legs where is ass is spread open, his asshole winking up at him, pink and inviting. Lower, where Steve’s balls hang heavily, perfectly groomed. And past that, his prick, so fucking swollen that Eddie is perplexed how he hasn’t nutted ten times over in his own boxers.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, stroking himself a few times because he physically cannot hold back when Steve is so goddamn pornographic. He takes his hand, drops his cock. Instead reaches forward and runs his fingers from the small of Steve’s back, down the seam of his ass. He stops at his hole, presses his thumb there. Feels Steve flutter against the pad of it. “I bet you’re so tight. Closeted guys usually are. Virgins, you know? At least where it counts.”

“I’m not—” Steve starts, but he cuts himself off when Eddie applies pressure to his asshole. He wants to slip his thumb inside, but he won’t do it unless Steve tells him to. “Fuuuccckk!”

Below their knees, an impressive pearl of precum pushes from the tip of Steve’s dick where it hangs between his legs. It reaches the floor before it disconnects from his body. Eddie wants to lick it up.

In fact, he wants to do everything to Steve—for Steve. He’s always been a giver. Loves the weight of a dick on his tongue, loves making a guy lose control and shout his name, loves the way cum shoots into his throat and coats his tongue in hot pools of white. He wants to fuck Steve and have Steve fuck him. Wants to teach him all the different places he can come from.

It’s not just a want anymore, it’s a need. But he won’t do it. At least not this time.

Eddie leans forward, tangles his hand in Steve’s hair for the second time tonight. Hauls him upright long enough that he can whisper into his ear, “I’m gonna fuck you, Steve Harrington. Mark my words. You’ll think about me every goddamn night until your fantasies just won’t cut it anymore. You’ll come crawling on your hands and knees begging for it. You’re gonna beg for my cock, Steve, and when you do, I’m gonna fuck the part of you that still thinks you’re straight right out of that dumb head of yours.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open and he fucking cries into the air, his eyes squeezing shut and his hand reaching for his own dick as it dribbles into the blankets under his knees.

Eddie doesn’t give him a chance to say anything, just shoves him face first into the ground. He gathers all of the moisture in his mouth and spits with perfect precision straight onto Steve’s asshole. The puddle of saliva gathers on the rim of muscle, until it flexes hard enough to force its path down his crack, over his perinium. It reaches his balls, leaves a little shining trail before it dissipates into his skin.

His hips surge forward, pressing the tip of his dick where his thumb had just been. A promise for a later date. But instead of pushing inside, Eddie ruts against the line of Steve’s ass, watching as the pink tip of his cock gathers the wet and slips above Steve’s tailbone.

“Gonna come,” Eddie pants, grasping at Steve’s asscheeks and forcing them closer together so they better hug around the base of his dick. His abs clench, and suddenly he’s seeing stars as he paints the moles on Steve’s back with his load.

His dick visibly pulses in tandem with his heartbeat, the veins protruding even more than before, the colour of it turning so red it borders on purple.

And he shouts so loud that his voice breaks, because he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life. More than he ever has in his life. The cum on Steve’s back gathers in the valley of his spine, all the way down to where Eddie’s dick is still twitching against the small of his back. Some even reached his hair, and Eddie can’t help but be smug that he ruined something Steve’s prides himself on.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie falls back on his knees, his spent cock starting to soften as it hangs above his jeans. He tries to catch his breath, tries to stop the pounding in his ears that he genuinely thinks could make him pass out.

In front of him, Steve whines where he’s been left stranded.

The part of Eddie that cares wants to reach forward, touch Steve, get him off. He’s never left someone hanging before; it’s just not his style.

But this isn’t someone, this is Steve. The guy that made—makes—his life a living hell whenever he’s at school. Sure, it’s gotten better in recent years, but he’s never apologised for actively bullying him. For spending endless hours calling him a loser, and a dork, and a freak. For helping spread rumours that Eddie is gay.

And Eddie is smart enough to know that Steve is probably projecting his fears, blah blah blah. Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about that. All he gives a fuck about is that he has a chance to make Steve feel as forgotten about as Eddie has since he was in goddamn middle school.

So he takes a step back on his knees, starts tucking himself back away in his boxers as Steve cranes his neck to throw him a pleading look.

“Please touch me,” Steve begs. He rights himself so he’s facing Eddie, no longer on his knees. He spreads his legs, grips his cock so hard by the base that it looks like it’s about to pop. “I want you to suck me.”

The way Steve phrases that literally makes Eddie’s mouth water, almost has him bending to get on his knees and take Steve into his mouth.

He could get hard again just by the thought of it.

But he sticks to his guns, zipping up his jeans, doing up his button, languidly sliding the leather of his belt back through the buckle.

“Nah, I’m not feeling up to it,” Eddie says, which is a bold-faced lie, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally as he fishes his smokes from his pocket, places one between his lips. “But I won’t stop you if you want to get yourself off.”

He hopes Steve takes the bait. He wants to watch Steve come, as much as it would still be satisfying to watch him scurry off with the worst case of blue balls he’ll ever have in his life.

Steve gawks at Eddie, his brows pinching above the bridge of his nose, so he gets that signature little crease when he gets all confused. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” Eddie lights up the cigarette and settles his back against the wall of his van like he doesn’t care whether Steve stays or goes.

But damn, he wants him to stay.

Steve’s (insanely) pink lips part. He looks so shattered that he might actually cry, which has Eddie feeling only slightly bad.

Not enough to change his mind, but enough that he’ll point it out.

“Please?” Steve says, voice desperate. “Is that what you want? For me to—to beg?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He wants to see what Steve does without his instruction. Wants to see him humiliate himself without Eddie even having to ask. So he just takes a drag from his smoke and blows it towards Steve’s face.

“Will you—will you please touch me?” Steve pleads quietly. He strokes his cock lightly, not enough to make himself come because he’s obviously still hoping that Eddie will do it for him. “Please? Please, Eddie?”

What a fucking sight to behold, King Steve begging The Freak for whatever he’ll give to him. It almost makes him bend. Probably one more desperate word from Steve’s pretty mouth would convince him.

He almost hopes he’ll be swayed.

“No, Steve,” Eddie still says, his voice only wavering mildly. He hopes Steve didn’t catch it. “See, I think it would be pretty gay of me to get you off, you know? As one straight guy to another, I know you’ll understand.”

It’s a pretty low blow, but Eddie has never been above pettiness.

The apple in Steve’s throat bobs as he thinks through his options, his hand barely slowing from the miniscule touches he grants himself. He eyes the pile of blue clothing in the corner of the van.

Eddie holds his breath, begging the universe to make Steve stay.

“You’re an asshole,” Steve says. But he leans back against the seat, facing Eddie, and he starts touching himself intentionally.

“I learned from the best.” Eddie locks his eyes on Steve’s hand as he strokes his cock. His foreskin doesn’t stretch quite enough to cover the cherry-red tip each time his fingers ring upwards, but it moves with each pump of his hand, helps it glide over his skin. Eddie can’t help but choke out, “Shit.”

Steve’s feet plant themselves firmly on the floor, his hips tilting towards his fist like he’s chasing his own touch. His fingers loosen, reaching down to squeeze at his balls that look like they’re tight, like he’s already on the brink of coming.

“I wish you’d touch me,” Steve says softly, reverently, and Eddie thinks how unfair it is that Steve seems sweet. Like he could be sweet anyway, if he wasn’t such a cunt.

That being said, it’s the final straw for Eddie’s willpower, he can’t not touch Steve anymore. He’s never been a strong man, and it seems he’s found another weakness.

So Eddie snaps, he’s unable to stop himself from crawling towards Steve, whose eyes go wide with gratification and lust, like all his prayers have been answered.

Without a word, Eddie runs his hands over Steve’s fuzzy thighs gently, revels in how soft his skin feels, how pliant it is under his fingertips. It gets even softer as he slips his palms behinds Steve’s knees. They seem to unfurl, as if Steve is inviting Eddie to hook his arms beneath them.

So that’s exactly what he does.

Eddie hauls Steve up with all his strength. And Steve uses his own muscle as well, his abs going taut as he flings his legs over Eddie’s shoulders.

It might be the hottest thing Eddie has ever seen before—Steve’s stomach creasing as he pushes forwards, forwards, forwards until Steve’s nearly bent in half. And the sounds he’s making—these pathetic little mewls—are nearly fucking unfathomable, his hand slapping wetly against his flesh as he fucks himself raw, fast, hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come—” Steve’s mouth falls opens in a silent scream, his thighs tremoring under Eddie’s grip.

Eddie reaches forward at the very last moment, squeezes his hand around Steve’s cock right as he starts to cry out. It’s hot and thick in his hands. Smooth. Hard as fucking steel, but Eddie still rings his fingers so tight that the red crown squishes slightly under the pressure.

He stores away all of that information for later, knows already that he’ll make himself come to the memory of Steve’s cock in his hand, the face Steve makes when he tumbles over the ledge, the way his cum shoots with each wave of his orgasm.

With Steve’s gaping mouth, and his body bent in on itself, Eddie takes the opportunity to aim Steve’s cock towards his parted lips. They’re really only a few inches apart, considering the compromising position Steve is in. The opportunity presents itself on a silver platter, and it seems rude if Eddie just passes it up.

So Eddie aims it towards Steve’s lips as they fall open in pleasure, and he forces him to come onto his own tongue.

It’s probably the most erotic thing Eddie has ever seen; Steve’s cum paints his lips in white, his lungs heave, his voice escapes in tiny little ah, ah, ah’s each time Eddie’s fist pumps out another rope, and another, and another. Eddie can feel Steve’s dick pulsating as hard as his own did earlier. He can tell that he probably came as hard, too, by the amount of cum that fills his mouth.

Shit, Steve barely seems conscious of that fact. His irises have disappeared into his skull like he needs a goddamn exorcism. But he’s shaking like he’s currently getting one.

Undoubtedly, Eddie is rock solid again in the confines of his jeans, battling more fantasies about sticking his cock inside Steve before he has the chance to come down from his high, making him scream as he pounds his prostate and uses his cum to jerk his overly sensitive dick until it gets hard again.

It’s a very vivid image in Eddie’s mind. So much so that he has to drop Steve’s knees immediately or he’s just gonna… do it.

Steve gasps as his lower body hits the floor, watching confusedly as Eddie scurries back to the farthest corner. The spark of recognition flashes in his eyes, and Eddie can tell that Steve is now gaining some clarity, that he’s realising he, A: let Eddie touch his dick, B: just lost his goddamn composure enough that he was whimpering and shit, and C (Eddie’s favourite): has a mouthful of his own jizz.

It would normally be hilarious when Steve frantically sits up, swallows his cum (much to Eddie’s surprise), and starts grappling to find his discarded uniform that’s strewn in every corner of the van. Only, Eddie is dealing with his own revelations of, well, very similar things. Like… He just touched Steve’s dick. He made Steve whimper and shit. And, yes, he made Steve cum in his own mouth.

Everything is already a fever dream. There is no way. There is just… no way.

Eddie hauls his knees closer to his chest, makes sure Steve can’t see that he’s hard again. Suddenly, it feels pathetic, now that the heat of the moment has simmered back into something… cold. Whatever it was before.

Only now there will be this knowing between them. A shared memory of… of… this. Touching, and begging, and talking. The things Eddie said to Steve like he’s a guy that says stuff like that. It’s mortifying.

Eddie’s hands tremble as he reaches for the cigarette that was dropped on the floor. It burnt a hole in his blanket, but whatever, there’s a million more where that came from. And he lights it back up to hopefully stop the panic that’s starting to settle in.

Steve has already pulled on his boxers and his shorts, that have suspicious little trails of sticky stains. Eddie can’t look, so he focuses on the wall in front of him, and hopes Steve doesn’t notice the tremble in his fingers.

“Can you hurry up, dude?” Eddie says, because he needs to stick his head between his knees before he passes out.

Are things gonna be better at school next year because if this? Or worse? The same?

He can’t imagine that Steve would sick Jason on him now that he’s graduated. But there’s more impossible things that have happened in this world. Like, for instance, what just happened between them.

Steve knows Eddie’s for sure gay. But by basically fucking him, which should be a comfort to Eddie. Still, he’s worried Steve will somehow manipulate it into something bad, like he’s some sort of homo predator. Will he tell his friends, who will tell the whole school? Will Eddie’s life be miserable next year as he repeats his third time being a senior while Steve isn’t around to reap any of the consequences?

Steve pulls his head through his shirt, his hair sticking out in all different directions. Eddie swears there’s still cum on the side of his lips, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“I’m—I’m going.”

“Go faster.”

Steve tumbles forward, trips over the balled-up blanket as he reaches for the back doors, his top still scrunched to expose a strip of his lower abdomen. But he makes it, flings open the van and flies forward, his face nearly kissing the pavement.

The cool air hits Eddie like a brick wall, but a welcome one. It reminds him that he’s a human and not just some buzzing ball of anxiety. So he leans towards it, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes.

That’s when he notices that Steve has turned around, that he’s stalling. He nervously fidgets with the red tie on his top, stares at Eddie like he wants to say something.

And for a minute, Eddie thinks he will. His lips open, and then close. And then open again. He gets that crease above the bridge of his nose. He cards his hand through the top of his hair that’s sweaty and sticky, and Eddie can tell he realises that as his face scrunches up a bit.

But he doesn’t. At least, not what he was going to say. His jaw just sets in the tense way it had been at the beginning of the night, and he says, “See ya.”

Turns towards his BMW.

Eddie doesn’t stay to gawk. As soon as Steve starts walking away, Eddie slams the back doors and scrambles to the driver’s seat. He doesn’t waist time starting his van, tires squealing as he pushes the clutch to its limit to make it shoot forward.

And once he’s back at the trailer and settled into bed, he pretends he doesn’t come three more times that night to the thought of Steve’s O-face.

***

“Can you please just give it to Steve,” Eddie begs for the hundredth time. Eddie’s throat closes up over Steve’s name, makes it sound thick as he speaks it. But he doesn’t really care. He’s too tired to care, and definitely too tired for this conversation.

Sleep had come so sporadically last night that Eddie almost called off work. But he needs the money, and needs even more to not look like a pussy who’s avoiding Steve after last night.

“I just don’t understand why you have Steve’s Scoops hat.” Robin quirks her brow, stares at where Eddie is extending the piece of Steve’s uniform that had been forgotten in the back of his van last night. It was comforting, in a way, to have physical proof that he hadn’t just completely lost his mind and made the whole thing up.

“I told you, I found it in the parking lot.”

“How do you know it’s Steve’s?” Robin presses.

“Because, it… it was near where he parked his car.”

“How do you know where he parked his car?”

“I saw him drive away last night.”

“But you didn’t see him drop the hat?”

“I wasn’t staring at Steve,” Eddie says with a scoff. Which is absolutely a blatant lie. He had done a lot of staring. “Why would I see him drop the goddamn hat?”

Robin picks at her fries. Eddie had purchased her food on break today, mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue. And he also thought it might make her behave.

Neither of those things had worked out.

“I just think it’s weird.”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “What’s weird, Rob?”

“It’s just… Steve has this cut on his lip, and a bruise.”

Eddie’s heart picks up in his chest.

Oh, shit.

“And?” he asks, dropping his eyes to focus on his now fidgeting fingers.

“And he said he got it from Jason last night. That they got into a spat.”

Eddie’s heart slows down the tiniest bit. Okay. That’s… yeah. He can work with that. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“He said that Jason met up with him after work. In the parking lot.” Robin’s eyes narrows and they zero in on Eddie. “After he saw you drive away.”

Eddie’s world stops spinning for a split second, realising he got caught in the lie. Of course Steve would have his own story. Of course it wouldn’t align with his own.

But, he knew even though Robin knew he was lying, she wouldn’t know why he was lying. I fucked Steve Harrington last night, is not something she’d expect. At least there’s that.

“I—I guess Steve didn’t actually drive away last night. I don’t really remember, maybe his car was still there. I just found his hat—”

“But didn’t give it to him? If he was still there?”

“I hate the guy,” Eddie says. It’s not a lie. Not really. “Why would I give it to him?”

Robin shoves a handful of fries into her mouth, chews thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But why would you even care enough to pick up his hat, in that case?”

Eddie can feel his face getting red. Can see that Robin notices it too, as she judges him silently from under her lashes. “Why are you pressing me about this?”

She shrugs, takes a sip of her Coke now. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The clock strikes five. That’s their cue to pack up and head back to their jobs. The legs of the chairs squeak as they push them back into the table.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Eddie asks, tossing out their trays full of garbage.

They head towards Scoops and Camelot Music. Eddie makes sure to stay far on his side of the hall, so he doesn’t have to face Steve.

“I just want to make sure nothing happened between you and Steve last night that you’re not telling me about.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his soda, can feel it bubbling up his throat and nearly out of his nose. He doesn’t catch his breath until they’re nearly standing in front of Camelot, Robin staring at him with concern, but also with this unsettling sense of knowing.

“What do you think happened?” Eddie’s voice comes out raw after he hacked up a lung. He goes with this question, because he figures it’s better than digging himself into a deeper hole.

“I’m not sure,” Robin says, poking at the hat in Eddie’s pocket. She turns towards Scoops without taking it, leaving Eddie with a literal white flag hanging from the back of his jeans. “But I hope it was nothing bad.”

She glares at Eddie, turns her sights towards Steve instead. He’s standing there in a freshly washed uniform. Hair perfect, because there’s no hat to squash it down. He’s staring at Eddie and Robin, but as soon as Eddie catches him, he straightens up and looks towards the buckets of ice cream instead.

“Why?”

“Because—” Robin places her hat on her head. Hikes up her own socks that slipped down her calves “—he asked if he could take my closing shift again tonight.”

Eddie’s face ignites, his eyes flying towards Steve accusingly. Eddie can tell he’s a few shades redder than normal as he twiddles his thumbs behind the counter, pointedly not looking in Eddie’s direction. Like he knows exactly what beans Robin just spilled.

“Fuck,” Eddie cries quietly to himself. He grabs the hat again, one last attempt to hand it to Rob. “Please—just—give this back to him.”

Robin purses her lips, takes a few steps away. “Give it to him yourself, tonight after work. You guys need to work through whatever hatred you have for each other. I’m not gonna be the middleman anymore.”

Eddie’s hand hangs limp between them as Robin turns away.

But she casts Eddie one more look before joining a blushing Steve behind the counter. “Just don’t leave any more marks on Steve. He’s really not that great of a fighter.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything more. Just watches as Robin walks back to the ice cream stand.

Before he looks away, Steve’s eyes lift from his feet. They meet with Eddie’s, and they’re filled with a certain type on intention.

Eddie knows in that moment that Robin will be disappointed tomorrow, when Steve shows up to his shift covered in bruises.

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lumagen · 5 months

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side order theorypost #87

Splatoon's campaigns are (mostly) quite distinct, but each is led by a villain that opposes the world that the Inklings have made. They each believe that their vision for the world is best - one based on history and a refusal to accept the change that the world has made.

Octavio rejects the Great Turf War and spent a century building up his forces and weaponry in an attempt to reverse the result of the war.

Tartar rejects Inklings as the new dominant species on planet Earth, looking to create a "new" world with his own variant of species largely inspired by humans (and the best the new world has to offer) to take over.

Mr. Grizz rejects aquatic life taking over in the place of mammals, and seeks to return the world to a state where mammals are once again the dominant species on planet Earth.

Each of these villains, consciously or not, have taken their trauma over past events and transformed them into a state where they only believe that a world based in the past in the best way to move forward, as paradoxical as that sounds. Of course, all three of them have been thwarted by their campaign's respective protagonist, a plucky young teenager with above-average skill who has saved the world.

But with Side Order, it's not about saving the world, and it's not about toppling some big bad with some grandiose desire of controlling it.

It's about showing Marina that she, too, has to wake up and face the changing world as well.

Just so we're absolutely clear, I believe that Marina is 100% without a doubt the main villain of Side Order. If I'm wrong I'll like, eat my shorts or something. However, based on the trend that former Splatoon villains have set, it just makes too much sense.

It may seem a bit strange to suggest that Marina fits in with those three - after all, she's not some conniving supervillain, she has seen firsthand that change can have a positive effect on someone's life - hell, she's not even a dude! However, I am suggesting that she has also fallen into the same trap of protecting history instead of moving forward.

And it all started with Damp Socks.

For those unaware, shortly before the events of Splatoon 3, Pearl mysteriously disappeared after a "musical clash" with Marina (<- please read this interview), going no contact until she found something fresh and different. She eventually returned with Damp Socks, offering to lend OTH's musical prowess to their band, and the rest is history.

It was good for Pearl, who always wanted to play rock music, but what about Marina?

On the surface, it seemed like she took it well enough after Pearl finally resurfaced, but by her own admission, Marina would have been fine playing anything as long as it was with Pearl. Protecting the bond and band they've shared the better part of a decade together was more important than anything else.

Pearl, knowingly or not, threatened that bond with one careless action.

And now Marina (thinks she) knows that Pearl could walk out on her whenever she feels, free to chase whatever fling catches her fancy next.

After working so hard to leave the domes, leaving behind everything she once knew, and making a whole life around her "best friend" for like, 7-8 years, it could all be left behind on a whim?

...

In that same interview I linked earlier, Marina leaves an eerie message about seeking a world of order beyond the world of chaos she had become accustomed to. Inspired by such an idea, she said that she wishes to "construct a new frontier" inspired by one such world of order.

One where every little thing can be meticulously chosen and perfected. One where all the important things can be protected, forever.

One where her and Pearl can always be together.

tl;dr as the first non-teenager protagonist in the series, u are teaming up with the loud [short one] to free her girlfriend from the mental prison she has purposefully trapped herself in and also Dedf1sh is there and i dont know why but please god save her

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #side order #can you tell i'm excited for side order #luma.txt

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mari-writes · 2 months

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🦉🐈‍⬛

“Are you sure about this? You know I’ll support you not matter what. But dude, you’re definitely good enough to go pro!”

Kuroo glances at Bokuto, seated next to him at the bar. His friend is looking down into his drink, brow furrowed, shoulders drooping slightly. He sighs. “Yes, I’m sure. I have other things I want to do.”

Bokuto nods silently, still looking a bit dejected. And Kuroo understands. He really does. Their final university tournament is fast approaching. After that series of games, they’ll be focused on exams, job interviews, and preparing to move out.

The two of them had shared a university, including a bunch of classes, a volleyball team, and even a living space for the past few years. Their lives had intertwined so much so that Bokuto became more than just a “second best friend.”

He’s more like a brother now.

But their futures are finally heading in opposite directions, and Kuroo can admit—it’s a bit daunting. Emotions are running high. “It’s not like I won’t be involved in volleyball,” he adds. “I couldn’t stay away even if I tried. But I think I want to work from behind the scenes from now on.”

Bokuto’s mouth twitches into a smile. “You DO have a lot of options, don’t you?” Kuroo had double majored in Biology and Marketing & Communications, all while maintaining his spot on the team. He had been unanimously voted captain in his final year, of course choosing Bokuto as his vice. College had been crazy, but a good kind of crazy, for the most part.

“I want to keep ‘lowering the net,’” Kuroo says. “I want to get as many people interested in volleyball as I can.”

Bokuto’s grin turns toothy. He leans in to clank their glasses together. “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!" They both take a long swig. The liquor burns Kuroo’s throat briefly before a warm, fuzzy feeling settles into his chest.

“You know, I’m really glad we were here together.” Bokuto’s voice is lowered, just loud enough to be heard over the din. Kuroo shifts on his stool, but stays silent, allowing his friend to continue. “It was… hard to accept that Keiji wouldn’t be continuing volleyball after high school. And even harder when he chose a different college.”

Kuroo nods in understanding. While it hadn’t been a surprise that Kenma announced he’d be choosing another path, it was still difficult to accept.

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you here, Kuroo!”

Frowning, Kuroo reaches to punch his friend lightly in the arm. “Oi!” He tuts. “Stop that. Or else I’m gonna tell on you to your boyfriend. I know for a fact that Akaashi hates when you cut yourself down!” Bokuto just shrugs. “C’mon, Bo. You would’ve been fine. Great, even. I mean, aside from maybe Chibi-chan, you’re the best at making friends. You make your biggest rivals want to cheer for you!”

“Hey, Hinata’s not so ‘Chibi’ anymore!” Bokuto chuckles. “Have you seen his latest photos from Brazil? My disciple is turning into an absolute beast!”

They both laugh, and Kuroo relaxes. He’d been pretty worried about telling Bokuto about his plans. But now that it’s done, he finally feels at peace. “You’re going to go far with volleyball,” he declares, raising his glass once again. “I just know it. But someday you might want to put that Education degree to use, too. Hit me up when that happens, okay?”

Bokuto’s smile is blinding. “Yeah!” He nods enthusiastically. “We could coach at a school, or put a volleyball camp together or something!”

Kuroo winks. “Now THAT sounds like a solid plan.”

I’ve been thinking about Kuroo and Bo’s friendship a lot lately, especially since I saw that leaked sketch of them leading a kids' volleyball camp together. It’s just so special to me. 🥺❤️ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please comment and share!

#bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou #bokuroo friendship #bokuaka #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #my writing #drabble #ficlet

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notashadowbutawave · 3 months

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i almost posted this on the true detective subreddit episode thread but thought better of it:

I've gotta say… I feel like a lot of complaints people are having about this season of the show don't pass muster objectively when held up against Season 1. Melodrama, "unrealistic" dialogue, complaining about being shown too much about people's personal lives and not caring about the characters…

There is so much unrealistic dialogue in season 1. The way Marty and Rust during their video interviews just come in talking about some big philosophical idea or "life wisdom" nugget in the middle of the episode (nobody talks like that IRL). The scene with Marty's daughter and the princess crown, for example. Marty cheating on his wife multiple times isn't like, objectively "more interesting" than Evangeline's sister having mental health issues or Liz being sexually promiscuous and a mess.

I've seen season 1 probably 10 times and I adore it but a lot of the angry comparisons people are making to S1 kind of just come off as straight up misogyny at a certain point. Like it rubs people the wrong way because it's women. Complaining about Liz and Evangeline going to the dredge without backup but when Rust and Captain America Marty Hart do something like that it's believable?

I don't think anyone's obligated to like the season by any means but you can just say you aren't feeling it as opposed to trying to make these apples-to-apples comparisons to season 1 that really don't hold water; I think people are just a lot more willing to accept this type of storytelling when it's about men and kind of has a fetishization/shame angle with masculinity in general. Like S1 is very masculine but it's also a love story. idk. I'm gay so I should probably stick to Tumblr for talking about this show, ya'll are wild.

----

idk watching people who are probably white dudes complain on Reddit that we are seeing too much "native culture" on the show strikes me as really icky.

i recognize that these are reddit comments and not like, actual media criticism but i think it says a lot about how people are conditioned to understand storytelling in general. like there's still so much fucking misogyny and white supremacy in our mainstream media and i realize a lot of people wouldn't say it out loud but i think they genuinely just find it exhausting that they're being asked to contemplate the interior lives of native alaskans and women by watching this show lmao

(that's not a value judgment about how well it is doing at depicting Iñupiat culture because i'm not the person who gets to make that judgment but it REALLY rubs me the wrong way that people can't STAND even seeing it depicted)

(i think the fetishization of the American south also has a lot to do with it, like people are very willing to accept the aesthetic style of the American south as a vehicle for crime/mystery/possibly supernatural storytelling because it really doesn't challenge any conceptions they might have about the genre) (it helps that Woody Harrelson and Matthew McCounaughey are native southerners with great acting talent and natural screen chemistry who really took Season 1 to a higher level, in no small part thanks to their uncredited script doctoring. with lesser actors I think the story falls flat as hell because you need them to sell a rich relationship and complex inner lives with their performances because SO MUCH of their relationship is subtextual) (so when people see these great acting performances in the context of a police procedural set in Louisiana i think they're very pre-conditioned to elevate it to an almost mythical status in the genre because it doesn't present TOO many challenges to a conventional worldview about who has power and agency in stories)

like I said i've watched season 1 probably 10 times. it's very good. but it does MANY of the same things that people are complaining about regarding season 4/night country in terms of showing a lot of relationship/sexual drama for the leads and their Tragic Pasts. they just don't like it. which is fine. i just think it's a disingenuous angle to approach criticism of the show.

like if any actor other than McConaughey were doing Rust's monlogues in S1 it would not have been very good because it would have come off like self-serious edgelord shit, which is what it actually was (pizzolatto sucks) before it ended up in the hands of competent producers and performers. instead it really comes off like a man who has suffered and developed this worldview genuinely, within himself, not as a way to wield power over others but to protect himself from harm.

anyway....

for my part, i wanna know what the fuck is up with the spirals and the bad CGI polar bear visions and i'm going to be disappointed if it's not just some massive red herring designed to freak people out a little because that's what we deserve.

but in terms of like, the characters' lives, i generally find them very interesting. the opening scene of episode 3 with annie genuinely moved me to tears. annie seems like a fucking cool person and i would love another flashback about her.

i love that liz is a fucking asshole who is constantly being forced to confront her own behavior as racist, self-centered, impulsive, etc.

i love that evangeline is a very lonely person just barely keeping it together. kali reis is putting on an amazing performance. also, for the record, i'm VERY gay.

i wanna know more and there are only 2 episodes left and i hope it sticks the landing so i can write a big actual essay about what it did well from a storytelling perspective!

gosh i just love serialized fiction on the television

#true detective season 4 #true detective night country #night country #true detective spoilers

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themarydragon · 5 months

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So my friend sent me this link to a youtube video about why the TotK lore isn't interesting. I couldn't get through it without a ten-screen discord rant (on my PC monitor, not my phone) so I thought I would put some thoughts here.

I don't delve too deep into TotK story but there are def some spoilery statements below, consume at your own risk.

The initial assumptions here seem to be that (1) BotW was more respectful of "The Lore" than TotK, and that (2) TotK made some unforgiveable sins that BotW absolutely avoided.

Both of these are completely false. And I am NOT saying that neither BotW nor TotK shat upon accepted lore. They did. There is no recovering the Hyrule Historia timeline, objectively. Instead I contend that the truth is the precise opposite: Nintendo has NEVER actually cared to try to make LoZ games have ANY amount of continuity.

Take the slide at the 5 minute mark of the video linked, above, in which we see the Master Sword was created specifically to be used against Ganon, and then the 7 sages set out to find somebody valiant enough to wield it (this is from the user manual of A Link to the Past, from the SNES, which also was about The Imprisoning War). Which, if you're playing the home game, you know got ret'conned TWELVE YEARS AGO by Skyward Sword. He's using the slide to explain why it was ridiculous that Ganondorf was able to shatter the Master Sword in the prologue to TotK, which tells me they didn't pay much attention to the mechanic in BotW in which the Master Sword "runs out of power" if you use it too much. If Ganon is an aspect of Demise (again from Skyward Sword, far more recent lore than the slide being used in the vid) then the secret stone he's wielding is amplifying DEMISE (WAY stronger than just some dude), which is why he's able to shatter the blade - but still isn't enough to destroy the sword. His entire complaint about the Sword being broken suggests to me he either didn't play Skyward Sword or has forgotten it existed, and has DEFINITELY forgotten the 'weapons breaking' mechanic started in BotW.

He makes another complaint later about there not being an explanation for the disappearance of the Divine Beasts. Which, sure. I wondered what happened, and figured the 5ish years since then made it old news nobody was talking about it anymore. I get why that might have been a breaking point for somebody else. But it's not just a TotK problem; BotW didn't address it, either. We see the Divine Beasts being dug up by the Sheikah in Rhoam's flashback - how did they get buried? The towers shoot out of the ground, how did THEY get buried, after the last calamity? Who put the guardians underground? How? HOW, if nobody is allowed into the tunnels under Hyrule Castle? It didn't get explained for BotW, so why is that an unforgivable sin in TotK? They give more than a passing suggestion that Purah has repurposed the guardians - just LOOK at the Skyview Towers. The jumpscare for BotW players when you get grabbed in the Lookout Landing tower TELLS YOU where the guardians went.

There is a significant section in which video creator is quoting an interview I haven't seen (and don't give two shits about), and I think it needs to be said: what is in the game is canon. What is in the interviews from other people is, by definition, not game canon. If it was meant to be game canon it would be in the game. Neil Gaiman talks about this when people ask him for clarification of his stories, go check his FAQ if you want a really good delineation of canon from somebody with way more clout than me.

So let's just look at the lore he's defending from BotW. The map is wrong. Straight up wrong, from all the earlier Zelda games. Nintendo cannot decide where the Lost Woods should be, much less Spectacle Rock. The Temple of Time, which again is mentioned early on as a clear homage to the lore, is in the wrong damn spot. If this is the new Hyrule formed post-WindWaker (as indicated by the existance of Rito), the Temple of Time should have been destroyed. And why do the Rito and the Zora both exist? According to WindWaker, the Rito evolved from the Zora, who couldn't live in the salt of the sea. Which is a pretty big jump from the original game that had Zora in the ocean, and the two games following THAT in which they were straight-up monsters. I don't want to get into ALL the ways BotW breaks from the established lore, but there's a LOT. They don't mention the fucking Triforce ONCE, ffs, that's sort of a big damn deal.

I get there was a canon timeline published in Hyrule Historia. I bought that book for that exact reason. And, as someone who has loved this franchise since I got that first golden cartridge in 1987, I looked at that timeline once, laughed at it, and moved on with my life. BotW de-canonized that timeline already, in a LOT of ways.

So saying that TotK is evidence that Nintendo no longer cares about continuity or lore, and by NOT villifying BotW (or TP or SS) for the exact same problem is disingenuous at best. Saying that TotK is just nostalgia-baiting is ignoring the BotW map (Lake Saria, anyone? Ranch Ruins, anyone?) in general, as well as all the game-specific loot that had NO other reason to be there but straight-up nostalgia. The only reason for Zelda to mention the other heroes in the blessing we hear in the first memory is to (1) destroy the established timeline (skyward bound, adrift in time, or something about twilight, all in a world where Rito exist), or (2) prey on our nostalgia. TotK isn't any worse for putting the WW shirt and the Awakening armor into the game, in terms of wrecking the timeline or trying to feast on our nostalgia.

I'm not going to try to hypothesize what this person (or all his commenters) didn't like about the game, or why they're so willing to overlook all these problems in BotW to villify TotK. And everybody is welcome to like to dislike a game for whatever reason they want, IDGAF, you do you. What I AM saying is that for someone who's upset about the lore, he really doesn't seem to actually be aware of how inconsistent it's ALWAYS been. If TotK is the game that taught you that Nintendo isn't trying to follow their own lore, then I don't think you have been paying attention to the lore for a good long time.

tl;dr this is still my favorite series and if you hate that it breaks its own continuity then you've been asleep for the last 12 years of lore drops my good dude.

#loz #loz lore discussion #loz lore #botw spoilers #totk spoilers #botw #totk #totk directly contradicts skyward sword #and its fine #because SS directly contradicted all the original games #there has never been continuity #never #the total lack of continuity is one of the reasons I love it so much

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winterlogysblog · 3 months

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I've just watched an interview Nakaba did for Netflix, it was quite old something like 3 years ago. But there he was saying about the Sin's interactions, on how Ban is Meliodas best friend and hang out with him a lot while Meliodas and King barely talk to each other: he said it was on purpose to reflect how people have different relationships irl.

This makes me somewhat worried for the 4KOTA, will they ever be closer and feel like a real group, and especially now that Percival's gone for two years? What are your theories?

Oh this is a good question... A good question

Firstly, I like Nakaba's approach with the dynamics and relationships of the Sins it is definitely realistic.

With Four Knights. I like to believe that soon they're gonna have this close relationship between all four of them. It's not a big stretch since they're just four of them and the group started off as teens compared to the Sins which are Seven individuals with most ranging from over hundreds and a thousand years old with different kinds of past trauma that they don't even talk about to each other since there is a rule about that.

With this 2 year timeskip and Percival dipping out. There's a whole bunch of emotions. Lancelot is pissed off and blaming himself for it. And if we look at Tristan's and Gawain's reaction about his death.

Tristan is angry and Gawain seems devastated at the fact that the moment they got together, the moment she accepted herself as part of this rag tag group, Percy left.

When Percy returns, Lancelot is probably the first one to accept it and be happy that he's back. I'm not saying that's his immediate reaction (it probably will, who knows). Next is Gawain then Tristan. Tristan might take a while to process all this unless the probability of Percy actually coming back is really high and Tristan hopes that Percy comes back to them. Cause out of everyone Tristan is mad at Percy.

With the rest, I don't think it really would change much at this point. Lancelot is at rock bottom right now. Lancelot. This is the dude who refuses to go home without Jericho because he thinks it's his fault why she left. After Percy left, Lancelot literally went home and cried. That's the sum of it. He went home, locked himself in his room and cried. (My poor boy) I dunno what everyone is up to after 2 years since we haven't seen any of them. Heck we haven't gotten time skip Nasiens yet. There's a possibility that Lance might have grown closer to Gawain they do give similar "I'm surrounded by idiots" vibes so yeah. With Tristan and Lancelot though. I think they'll be fighting. Since like I said Tristan is mad at Percy and Lancelot isn't, so yeah I can smell possible conflict arising.

Also, speaking of Lancelot being absolutely depressed with Percy gone. I think this is a great way to introduce his cousin.

At this point it's obligatory. I've been waiting for years and I do mention them every time I have the opportunity.

#nanatsu no taizai #four knights of the apocalypse #nnt #seven deadly sins #4kota #seven deadly sins sequel #mokushiroku no yon kishi #mokushiroku no yonkishi #lancelot #tristan liones #gawain #percival #asks #nanatsu no taizai mokushiroku no yonkishi

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chalkrevelations · 5 months

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Something that already strikes me about audience response to Day's family in Last Twilight is the amount of anger and shaming language I'm seeing directed at them, and what I keep thinking is that Day is not Heart.

Sure, it may turn out that Ramon and Night have hidden what happened to Day because they're ashamed or don't know how to deal with it, that they're the ones who imposed the "abroad in the US" cover story, that despite seeing Aon use his cane when he comes over and Day lights up like he never does at any other time, they just haven't bothered to get Day a cane to help him maneuver the world. But we don't know any of that, yet, and I'm going to suggest that assuming all of those things infantilizes Day in much the same way that people keep pointing out his family doing, by making him a victim of his family's behavior instead of accepting that a lot of his isolation is self-imposed. No, his family isn't doing things perfectly (redesign your kitchen for function instead of form, when even sighted people are stubbing their toes, for god's sake), but why automatically assume his family did all that to him instead of assuming that Day, himself, did those things, or at least had a hand in them?

What we know at this point is that nobody except Day, himself, shut him up in his bedroom like a hermit and demanded that food be left at his closed door so that he didn't have to interact with anyone, even his family. And once he's made up his mind about that, there's only so much persuasion and so much coaxing and so much fight you can have with a grownass person when they've decided they're not going to do a thing. If Day is going to refuse to come out of his room, he's not five years old, and they can't drag him out - physically cannot, I mean, not without someone getting hurt, plus that's also assault. (The discussion of five-year-old autonomy, when they actually are small enough to pick up, is for another time.) And then try to repair the relationship after you've done something like that. Mork tricks Day out of his room with the fish tank gambit and finds ways to keep tricking him to stay out of it. Nobody has (figuratively) locked Day in his room the way Heart was; Day has walled himself off.

So, I'm wiling to wait to hear if Night and Mom have just decided to tell everyone Day's abroad to hide what's happened to him, or if Day was involved in that cover story, if Day has used that to hide himself away and avoid having to talk to former friends and acquaintances in this new state of perceived vulnerability. And if we never hear for sure, I'm willing to not just assume that this was something imposed on Day against his will, based on what we've seen and learned about Day so far. He has enough internalized shame to do it, himself. When he gets his cornea transplant, he tells Night in Ep 1 - and it sounds like he expects it to happen fairly soon, and he probably expects that a lot of things will go back to normal then, and that this will all be a bad dream, so why not treat this entire time as some sort of liminal space, a time out of time, away from everyone and everything, and never let them see him like this? Why not just go back when he's himself, again?

When he wants to, Day is perfectly capable of pushing back against people who he's absolutely smart enough to know are infantilizing him, from his bratty behavior in the caretaker interviews, to the way he's apparently gotten rid of several caretakers in the past, to the "fuck you" of following Night into the Shining Institute instead of staying in the car. If my dude wanted a cane to help him maneuver, he would have one. Until they prove it to me that he doesn't already have one, tbqh I'm going to suspect that he does, and that he shoved it in the back of a drawer and buried it with other stuff - if he didn't break it over his knee and throw it in the trash. Do you think Mom isn't going to give Day whatever he wants? Day's mother may not be doing everything perfectly, but she is not Heart's mother. And anyway, he's a grownass person with a phone and a computer he's able to use, why are we assuming that Day can't get online and order a cane for his own self, instead of waiting for his family to do it for him? He could get Aon's help, if he needed help with it.

#day (lt)#morkday #last twilight #last twilight the series #and tangentially #heart (mc)#moonlight chicken

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sp0o0kylights · 4 months

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why the deep sigh before saying you’re a natural redhead lol

Several reasons!

For context this is in response to my answer in the "rb in the tags what would be the physical feature used to identify you in fanfiction of you if you were a fictional character" post a few days ago and the TL;DR is the redheads get stereotyped in specific ways I hate.

Large ass rant below (hey you asked lol)

For a lot of people, redheaded women are a fetish. ( When I was younger, I had people date me who later stated they just wanted to cross off dating a redhead, they didn't actually want a relationship, and my personal favorite, that they would never date someone who "wasn't skinny" but made an exception bc I'm a redhead. I've been offered a LOT of sex and a LOT of threesomes, because I'm a bucket list item and they will say so, to my face, in person. Like many things in life, there's a line between a preference or appreciation or even a "type" --and a fetish. The later being an issue because you're no longer seen as a person but an object, and people will make that creepily, disgustingly clear.

2. It's a stereotyped personality. Redhead's are crazy/hot tempered/insane (see: that one dude from Fruits Basket and I cant even pick a female character theres so fucking many) crazy in bed (one example among hundreds is We're the Millers "Eh she's a redhead there's a 50/50 chance she'd be into it") Soulless (I actually used that one to get through High School by insisting I was collecting souls to pay for my fire-lake front mansion, shouts out to South Park lmao), and many more. The redheaded step-child, the vixen, the other women, etc.

I have had my hair color come up in job interviews, with teachers, with coaches or trainers and even in situations as a kid where I was essentially asked "Hello kid I just met, you're a redhead, are you going to behave for me?" Related, my parents got a LOT of praise because I was quiet. Throughout my life the most common "praise" I have received is that I am "not a typical redhead" bc I am "calm."

You still see a lot of this bleed into fanfiction, but you used to REALLY see it bleed into fanfiction lol.

Addendum to both points above--the fetish, hot, good in bed thing typically only applies to conventionally attractive women.

Redheaded men are "ugly", and if you don't fit into the current but ever changing Socially Acceptable Hot Chick Look, then you're in for it. This includes weight, skin color/tone, freckles, type of hair, fuckin' eye color sometimes, the list goes on.

I vaguely recall someone who was doing a media study about how the male "problem child" in media is typically portrayed as a redhead. off the top of my head, the kid from Malcom in the Middle and the kid from the magic school bus.)

And that's just the cis shit.

3. People in general get weird about my hair. A lot of strangers enjoy touching it without asking, or otherwise felt ownership over it if I had parts of it dyed, etc. I legitimately had people get super upset the time I dyed it black. Hell I had STRANGERS get upset. People I never met in my life who were making small talk in the check out line, absolutely FURIOUS with me about dying it black, because they asked me what my natural hair color was and I answered honestly.

4. If you're over the age of, ehhhh, 25? 27? You probably remember the age of fanfic where we described EVERYONE by their hair color lmao. Redhead was right up there with bluenette. It was painful and that post reminded me of it.

#Id honestly dye my hair black again #except my hair grows out insanely fast #and requires specific types of dye or some shit #at home box dyes are #sadly #a waste and believe me I have tried #anyway #I have to go to a professional and while I believe in paying my people that shit is EXPENSIVE to do every single month #and my ass pretty much picked doing other things in terms of hobbies and apperance #Ghosts long ass rant about redheads #feel free to chime in if you are one #I could talk for hours about the gross shit people of all genders have said to me #but esp men #up to and including the guy who asked me what made me different from any other redhead #like homie we're not pokemon

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bokettochild · 6 months

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Opera house AU, I feel like Hyrule first met Legend during one of his late night street art excursions with Sheik. One night goes sideways, Legend and Sheik split up, Legend's chase getting worse until Hyrule saves him?

Yeah, most likely. Legend is just back from his trip abroad to meet his father (who died while he was over there) and thus in need of some cheering up and quality time with the people who love him. Lullaby (Sheik) took him out knowing that music and art are sometimes good ways to express yourself when words won't work, but they nearly got caught.

They split off, Sheik leading the cops away (after all, Sheik is the more wanted criminal) and Legend scrabbled up into a third story window while they weren't paying attention and stumbled across one (1) homeless dude who surprisingly didn't kick him out immediately and actually kept quiet until the cops were gone.

Hyrule, on the other hand, was trying to sleep in the first building that didn't already seem to be claimed already by a homeless clan, and got freaking stepped on by some dude falling in through his window. On the third floor. Said dude is clearly Going Through It, so Hyrule tries to help him chill out (panic attack) before walking him home. Legend insisted he'd be fine, but Hyrule wouldn't hear of him going out alone when he'd clearly barely escaped someone earlier in the night (Legend can't bring himself to admit it was the cops)

Once he was calmed again, Hyrule walked Legend back to a safer part of town and then just disappeared. They kept running into each other after that though, especially when Legend stepped into Malo Mart one day to see The Homeless Dude getting creeped on by the manager there (not Malo). Naturally, he made quick work of the creeps face and dragged Hyrule away, only to realize he just punched Homeless Guy's boss. Oops? (Not oops)

Long story short, the moment Legend realized Hyrule's boss is not only creeping on the nice guy that helped him, but also underpaying him, he hauled ass up to the opera and told Lullaby he was hiring a new assistant. Lullaby never objected. Legend did the same thing a couple months before when he hired Ravio, she doesn't question it.

Since then, Hyrule's been working at the opera. he's a bit shocked they hired him without an interview or anything, but the nice guy who fell through his window apparently has a bit of pull here? And is going to be his manager. And on top of that? He's not a creep! Weird, but...not a creep, and a win is a win in Hyrule's book, so he accepts the job.

It's a weird job, and his co-workers are weird, but he'd rather dodge flaming set pieces that get creeped on by his boss any day. And Legend's nice, even if he's clearly got something going on in his life, and Ravio and Styla are really sweet, and while the big bosses are definitely scary, they don't bother him. He does get very up in arms when he perceives them to be bothering Legend though, which is apparently funny to them? Excuse you?

#lu hyrule #asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #opera house au #lu legend

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sarandipitywrites · 2 months

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Find the word tag

@ahordeofwasps tagged me for this one - thank you! Go read her snippets here (seriously. read them. They are ajdshfkjlash). my words to find are nerve, name, new, and nail. i'll be searching the latest draft of Dead Roots, Dark Water for this one

i'll tag (no pressure!) @moonandris, @just-a-local-dreamer, @adhdavinci, @breath-of-eternity, @aalinaaaaaa, @eccaiia, and you (open tag!) to find scratch, change, story, and shoe.

CW for nerve, as it contains magical healing depicted as mild body horror. that entry has been moved to the bottom of the post. now, without further ado...

name

"Code names are standard for Underground communication. Our comm cracking procedure's prevented breaches so far, but it pays to be paranoid." "Hey, lemme make somethin' clear, Gravel-Breath: this job interview goes two ways. I have not expressed, nor accepted—" The gears clicked into place. Daxter's jaw dropped. "Wait. I'm Zeek?" "Short. Common. Inconspicuous." "Lotta words for boring. We got code names, man, let's make 'em somethin' spicy, somethin' like… Orange Lightning, or, or The Daxterminator—" "Zeek." He pointed at Jak. "Cylen. Don't try to change them."

new

Lines littered the length of Jak's exposed arm. Raised, dark gray ridges; thin, silvery lines; patches of dark, taut skin. What little he could see of Jak's chest told the same story. A thin breath hissed out from Daxter's tightened throat. "Who?" Jak snatched his hand away, yanked on his new blue coat. "It's fine. I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Silver. In the shadow of his jaw. Daxter pressed his fingertips under Jak's chin, angled it up. A thin silver scar. Vertical. Surgical. Skirting his larynx. Fire burned white-hot in his chest, choking, smothering. Tremors quaked down his arms. "Who?" Gol? Praxis? Some freak scientist, some vainglorious bastard who thought themself a god, wanted to fix what wasn't broken— "Dax, stop." Jak looked away, ears angled back. "Just…" Daxter let out a breath, long and stuttering. "Yeah. Right. Sorry, bud." It could wait. They could wait.

nail

Daxter turned around, took one look at him, and groaned. "Dude. The shoes weren't a friendly suggestion. Put 'em on." "Never needed them before." "You never been in Haven before. And the first rule of Haven is: shoes are not optional. Place's nastier than a hiphog's wallow. With at least…" he counted off on his fingers, "three times the horrible diseases." Jak crossed his arms. Whatever pathogens Daxter was worried about, Jak had encountered worse and survived. Without shoes. Daxter mirrored his stance and narrowed his eyes. "Jak Sabo, you are wearin' those boots if I gotta pin you down and duct tape 'em on. I ain't carryin' you around when you step on a nail and get gout." Jak rolled his eyes, but opened the bag and retrieved the boots. "Tetanus." "Yeah, that too."

nerve

He filled the gaps with green, wove the sheared bones together with spiderwebs of collagen and calcium. The new material scratched at his insides like raw sandstone on an exposed nerve. Eco jabbed through veins and nerves, stitching the frayed ends back together. Flesh, tendon, skin. Even when the last gash closed, golden brown eclipsing red, the inside of his skin itched like sand under his fingernails. Iron and lilies lingered, sweet and metallic and nauseating.

#cw: body horror #writeblr tag games #find the word tag #my writing #dead roots dark water

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therandomfandomsblog · 2 years

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I adore that in the new series, Louis is fully queer even beyond his relationship with Lestat. He had drunken encounters before, and rejected his enjoyment of them, he finally committed to a queer relationship with Lestat, and in the interview, he states he now accepts himself openly and even goes to gay bars. In fact, I think there might be a hint that he and Daniel might have been attracted to each other.

And seeing as he doesn’t kill, that means he bangs dudes and might feed on them, but feeding is never the full intent. He actually enjoys the time. I love that for him…and you know he gets laid a lot without needing to compel, cause he is fine as hell.

I was so worried they were gonna queerbait us, but instead, I am enjoying the completely open scenes and conversations that are absolutely undeniably queer.

In short, get that d, Louis!

#interview with the vampire #loustat #Louis #louis de pointe du lac #lestat #lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire 2022

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itbe-jess · 3 months

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I just need to get this off my chest.

I feel like so many fans give CL Rayman a little too much credit. They’re always praising him, but I’ve never seen one person who is reasonably critical about him. (Except the one who aren’t really really fans) Yes, Rayman doing explicit adult activities, saying fuck, abusing drugs, and killing people is fun, but he’s technically not perfect. I’m tired of fans pretending like he is. I like the premise of his character, and this whole new approach is very interesting to me. But I’m sorry, the edgy Flanderization is just really annoying.

Yes, Rayman is supposed to be edgy. He has always been edgy. Rayman 3 being a big primary example of this. However, Rayman in Rayman 3 wasn’t just some mischievous edgy frat boy. He had more variety. Aside from having edge, he was also this laidback dude who loved to relax, had a wholesome childish spirit to him, and overall shows he cares for others around him.

That’s what CL Rayman is missing: Variety. Hell, I wouldn’t be a Rayman fan today if Sparks of Hope only portrayed Rayman as nothing but this salty millennial who can’t let go of the past. There’s not one scene with CL Rayman, outside of work, that doesn’t involve him in anything vulgar or offensive. I’m not gonna count any scenes where he’s in his TV Persona, because that’s technically not him being himself. That’s just him doing his job. Look, I love edgy characters, but not when they’re oversaturated with the one thing they’re most known for. Angel Dust couldn’t even compete with that level of edge. I’m not saying Rayman can’t be angry and depressed. As a matter of fact, he has every right to. His feelings are completely valid. But would it kill the writers to show him being funny or wholesome for one minute?

His least edgiest scene in the whole show has got to be his interview with Bullfrog. While it still presented an angsty atmosphere, and the vomiting moment was unnecessary, I’ll admit it was a breath of fresh air seeing him take a break from all that swearing and accept a juice box. My favorite part of that scene has got to be seeing a smile on his face. A real smile. You know, something tells me that Ubisoft doesn’t want Rayman to be happy in his series.

Rayman doesn’t feel like Rayman, either. Or even a character for that matter. In my opinion, he feels more like an early 2000s’ Newgrounds parody. Yes, I KNOW he’s supposed to be a whole different take on the character, but you know something? You CAN make an already existing character entirely different! It’s a really bold move to experiment more depth with that character. However, it’s also important to let them keep a tiny bit of their old, familiar charisma, so that they’re still recognizable to the fans. Familiarity is the key. Without that familiarity, that character might as well have a different name and appearance. CL Rayman doesn’t have Rayman’s charm, his humor, or even his good heart. Just his looks, and identity.

He does get struck by guilt after learning the truth about Eden, and he sacrifices his entire career just to fix his own mistakes. However, those don’t count as being kind. He’s killing fascists out of good intention, but in the end, it’s just violence. Not kindness. It’s really hard to see Ramon as the type of guy who would give me a hug when all I’ve seen him act is angry, depressed, and violent, not to mention he has snorted coke and ate sushi off of prostitutes in the comfort of his million dollar penthouse. If they want me to believe he truly is a sweet guy, THEN I WANNA FUCKING SEE IT! Have him, ya know, interact with kids! Comfort Dolph on his loss! Maybe even form a dorky, yet wholesome friendship with Bullfrog! There are many ways to have him express kindness, and not just through violence!

I’d also like to add that Rayman’s heel turn moment just felt kinda forced. We don’t even know how he got access to firearms. In the last episode, he was so whiny and weak. Then all of a sudden, he’s strong? C’mon, the dude has been loyal to Eden for years. They could’ve at least shown him reflecting on the impact of his actions first, and then figure out a way to resolve the problem at stake. I would have rather the show end like that so that the writers could give themselves time to build up a climatic story for season 2, not just get right to the point. Six episodes or not, it’s a poor writing direction.

I don’t care what anyone says: A 100% serious role does not work for Rayman. Don’t get me wrong; You can take Rayman seriously, but we’re also supposed to laugh at him, and with him. He’s not Spider-Man (a character that blends realism with lighthearted comedy), he’s a freaking Looney Tune! Even a game as dark and serious as Rayman 2 had moments to make us giggle. Humor plays an important role in Rayman’s character. Michel Ancel also intended humor to be one of his most defining traits. Just by looking at him, you know he’s someone you can’t take seriously! A Rayman that isn’t funny makes as much sense as having Crash Bandicoot talk.

I beg the writers to PLEASE flesh out Rayman’s character more in season 2! He can still swear, kill, snort coke, I don’t care, but at least bring out his sweeter side! Maybe make him a little goofy, too! For Polakus’s sake, make Rayman do something “Rayman-like” for once!

#Rayman #video games #Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix #I’m not saying you should stop loving CL Rayman. I’m just saying that you have to accept that he’s flawed.#I have a fair share of criticism with the Raymen I love dearly #I’ve always been afraid to speak this out cuz I was worried it might sound too controversial.#Please don’t disown me fans.

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