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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

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rockstar!robin, manager!steve, music journalist!eddie AU for funsies

On my first day shadowing her for this article, Robin Buckley tells me that her greatest fear in the world is not the massive crowds that flood arenas at every stop on her ongoing international tour, not the looming anxiety that her blooming success may be fleeting, not even a joke about how she worries this piece will make her look. No. On the day I meet Robin Buckley, she tells me the scariest thing on the planet is rabies. "By the time the symptoms set in, you're already dead," she says, walking with long strides towards her dressing room in the endless backstage of the Indianapolis Fieldhouse. "And I don't know about you, but death by raccoon is not how I want to go out."

I ask her if that's because it's not rock-and-roll enough, if such a mundane last stand doesn't match up with where she sees her life going these days, but the first thing out of her mouth in response is laughter.

She tells me maybe with a toss of her hands, asks me if I'm a music journalist or a shrink, and gets immediately pulled into a conversation about whether she's done rehearsing with her favorite guitar so it can be prepped stage left.

I try to stick around, try and get the inside scoop on how Robin Buckley prepares for a show, but I'm usurped by her fucking guard dog of a manager who fjsakdlfjaslkdfja FUCKING jesus CHRISTfsj

Eddie slams his hands down on his laptop keyboard and strains his neck back to look at the ceiling which is, quite frankly, an idiotic decision for a guy who gets motion sick on vehicles the size of, say, your average tour bus.

Don't get him wrong, he loves a good tour bus, loves the press van, loves the sweaty mess of a thing filled with people competing for clicks and desperate for the best quotes and--

Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn't love it, but if he's ever going to get enough notoriety in this business to write the sort of rock n' roll histories he grew up swallowing hole in the back room of his uncle's trailer, he has to go on a few shitty assignments.

Shitty assignments for alternative rock, one-hit wonders and their fucking hyper-protective managers who carry around lists of topics they're not allowed to bring up around Miss Buckley as if the girl herself isn't a goddamn open book.

How can the guy put a moratorium on her fucking home life if she herself sits down with the lowly press at lunch and twirls out story after story about her hippie parents teaching her how to roll a blunt when she was twelve years old?

How is Eddie supposed to write this damn article let alone his magnum opus if the advent of the internet has made managers and publicists everywhere so goddamn paranoid that Eddie has to use an anecdote about rabies as his hook?

Who is Steve Goddamn Harrington to tell Eddie how to do his job?

It's not that Eddie even wants to tear his little star apart; Eddie actually likes her contrary to the tension headache overtaking him on the ride between Indy and Columbus, but how is he supposed to prove why to readers if he's not allowed to say anything?

On his first day on this tour, Eddie had been forced to sit on this very bus and get a lecture from Steve Harrington, who has apparently been leading Robin's team from the small town get-go, and who is apparently God or whatever, and the thing is the guy's a prick.

He's downright insufferable, assumes the worst in people and expects their best behavior nonetheless, and Eddie can't stand his guts.

Except.

Except on day one of this tour, Steve Harrington gave them a terse lecture befitting a high school principal on the bus and then turned around and talked to the driver about his family for ten minutes before hopping out and going back to work.

And except, when they were in Chicago, he was screaming in some guy's face backstage and Eddie thought he'd discovered the real Steve, only to find out from a crew member later on that the guy in question was getting fired for trying (and failing) to hide a camera in Robin's dressing room.

And except, most of the time Steve Harrington is stern and bitchy and protective but the first time Eddie saw him talking to Robin before a show the two of them were laughing. Bright in ways that can't be faked.

Joyful.

Eddie looks back down at his computer and curses the man who is making this job so much more fucking difficult than it needs to be. Robin Buckley is a good story, without need for any embellishment.

Her start is interesting, where she comes from is interesting, her sound is even interesting despite its overnight popularity and worst of all Eddie likes her.

She's kind and open and smart as a whip-- apparently speaks four languages and is working on a fifth. She's got this sharp edge to her where she doesn't take an ounce of shit this industry throws at her and Eddie doesn't have to stretch to understand why her fans adore her.

God, he wants to write a good piece about this fascinating kid from Hawkins, Indiana, and he wants to write about the manager who she constantly reminds them she owes all her success to because how did that happen.

Eddie wants to be a fly on the wall when those two talk about ice cream, the weather, anything and he wants this article to be the one that gets him that goddamn book deal. Get Jonathan the high profile photog gig he deserves and Nancy the co-writing credit they've been dreaming of since college.

But there's still the guard dog in the way.

There's still Steve Harrington.

On the first day manager and good, Midwestern boy Steve Harrington introduces us to the star of the show, he tells us, "a toe out of line and I'll have your credentials stripped so far down the only paper that'll hire you has a whole page dedicated to Bible verses."

And as a good, Midwestern boy myself? I believe him.

Eddie thinks there's a story here, and he thinks he's the one savvy enough with loopholes to find it.

He's got three more hours 'til Columbus to figure out how.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things au #steddie au #have your saturday night ramble I had a thought threw it up and now it is yours peace and love <3 #i've never written quite such an AU au but i had fun with this!

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aaknopf · 14 days

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Martyr!, the poet Kaveh Akbar’s propulsive debut novel, tells the tale of Cyrus Shams, the son of a lost mother (victim of a 1988 U. S. Naval snafu in the Persian Gulf that killed 290 people on a commercial airliner) and the long-suffering father who emigrated to Fort Wayne, IN with his baby boy. We meet Cyrus as a student of poetry at Keady University and a reformed addict. In this excerpt, he’s at the local open mic with his friends; we also share one of the poems from Cyrus’s bookofmartyrs.docx, helpfully supplied by Akbar, the poet behind the fictional poet.

. .

The Naples Tuesday night open mic had become a mainstay of Cyrus and Zee’s friendship. It was a small affair, not much to distinguish it from the myriad other open mics happening elsewhere in the country—except this was their open mic, their organic community of beautiful weirdos—old hippies singing Pete Seeger, trans kids rapping about liberation, passionate spoken-word performances by nurses and teenagers and teachers and cooks. As with any campus open mic, there was the occasional frat dude coming to play sets of smirky acoustic rap covers and overearnest breakup narratives. But even they were welcome, and mostly it felt like a safe little oasis of amongness in the relative desert of their Indiana college town, a healthy way to spend the time they were no longer using to get drunk or high. Naturally, Naples didn’t have its own sound equipment, so Zee would usually show up fifteen minutes early with his beat-up Yamaha PA to set up for Sad James, who hosted every week. Sad James was called this to distinguish him from DJ James, a guy who cycled nightly through the campus bars. DJ James was not a particularly interesting artist, but he was well-known enough in the campus community to warrant Sad James’s nominative prefix, which began as a joke but somehow stuck, and to which Sad James had grown accustomed with good humor, even occasionally doing small shows under the name. Sad James was a quiet white guy, long blond hair framing his lightly stubbled face, who played intensely solemn electronic songs, punctuated by sparse circuit-bent blips and bloops, and over time at Keady, he had become one of Zee and Cyrus’s most resilient and trusted friends. On this night, Cyrus had read a poem early, an older experimental piece from a series where he’d been assigning words to each digit 0–9, then using an Excel document to generate a lyric out of those words as the digits appeared in the Fibonacci sequence: “lips sweat teeth lips spread teeth lips drip deep deep sweat skin,” etc. It was bad, but he loved reading them out loud, the rhythms and repetitions and weird little riffs that emerged. Sad James did an older piece where the lyrics “burning with the human stain / she dries up, dust in the rain” were repeated and modulated over molten beeps from an old circuit-bent Game Boy. Zee—a drummer in his free time who idolized J Dilla and John Bonham and Max Roach and Zach Hill in equal measure—hadn’t brought anything of his own to perform that evening, but did have a little bongo to help accompany any acoustic acts who wanted it. On the patio listening to Cyrus talk about his new project, Zee said, “I could see it being a bunch of different poems in the voices of all your different historical martyr obsessions?” Then to Sad James, Zee added, “Cyrus has been plastering our apartment with these big black-and-white printouts of all their terrifying faces. Bobby Sands in our kitchen, Joan of Arc in our hallway.” Sad James made his eyes get big. “I just like having them present,” Cyrus said, slumping into his chair. He didn’t add that he’d been reading about them in the library, his mystic martyrs, that he’d taped a great grid of their grayscale printed faces above his bed, half believing it would work like those tapes that promised to teach you Spanish while you slept, that somehow their lived wisdoms would pass into him as he dreamt. Among the Tank Man, Bobby Sands, Falconetti as Joan of Arc, Cyrus had a picture of his parents’ wedding day. His mother, seated in a sleeved white dress, smiling tightly at the camera while his father, in a tacky gray tux, sat grinning next to her holding her hand. Above their heads, a group of attendees held an ornate white sheet. It was the only picture of his mother he had. Next to his mother, his father beamed, bright in a way that made it seem he was radiating the light himself. Zee went on: “So you could write a poem where Joan of Arc is like, ‘Wow, this fire is so hot’ or whatever. And then a poem where Hussain is like, ‘Wow, sucks that I wouldn’t kneel.’ You know what I mean?” Cyrus laughed. “I tried some of that! But see, that’s where it gets corny. What could I possibly say about the martyrdom of Hussain or Joan of Arc or whoever that hasn’t already been said? Or that’s worth saying?” Sad James asked who Hussain was and Zee quickly explained the trial in the desert, Hussain’s refusing to kneel and being killed for it. “You know, Hussain’s head is supposedly still buried in Cairo?” Zee said, smiling. “Cairo, which is in which country again?” Cyrus rolled his eyes at his friend, who was, as Cyrus liked to remind him when he got too greatest-ancient-civilization-on-earth about things, only half Egyptian. “Damn,” Sad James said. “I would’ve just kneeled and crossed my fingers behind my back. Who am I trying to impress? Later I could call take-backsies. I’d just say I tripped and landed on my knees or something.” The three friends laughed. Justine, an open mic regular whose Blonde on Blonde–era pea-coat-and-harmonica-rack Bob Dylan act was a mainstay of the open mic, came outside to ask Zee for a cigarette. He obliged her with an American Spirit Yellow, which she lit around the corner as she began speaking into her cell phone. In moments like these Cyrus still sometimes felt like asking to bum one too—he’d been a pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker before he got sober, and continued his habit even after he’d kicked everything else. “Quit things in the order they’re killing you,” his sponsor, Gabe, told him once. After a year clean he turned his attention to cigarettes, which he finally managed to kick completely by tapering: from one and a half packs a day to a pack to half a pack to five cigarettes and so on until he was just smoking a single cigarette every few days and then, none at all. He could probably get away with bumming the occasional cigarette now and again, but in his mind he was saving that for something momentous: his final moments lying in the grass dying from a gunshot wound, or walking in slow motion away from a burning building. “So what are you thinking then? A novel? Or like . . . a poetic martyr field guide?” asked Zee. “I’m really not sure yet. But my whole life I’ve thought about my mom on that flight, how meaningless her death was. Truly literally like, meaningless. Without meaning. The difference between 290 dead and 289. It’s actuarial. Not even tragic, you know? So was she a martyr? There has to be a definition of the word that can accommodate her. That’s what I’m after.”

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar.

Browse Kaveh Akbar's poetry collections and follow Kaveh on Instagram @kavehakbar.kavehakbar.

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

#poetry #poetry month #national poetry month #Knopfpoetry #Knopf Poetry #Kaveh Akbar #AkbarAudio #Arian Moayed #MoayedAudio #MartyrANovel #Martyr!#Martyr! A Novel #Excerpt

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dragonfoxgirl · 5 months

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I started to become aware of the life I've built up. I have transformed into a character from a book I'm not entirely sure I've written myself. But if this is the case, my creator has certainly placed me in one of the strangest, happiest chapters.

I've become a house witch. Surrounded by her animals, plants and colorful trinkets.

I create with my hands. My eyes, the window to the worlds inside me.

I cover my body in colors and comfortable fabrics and bask through the mornings in bed with my three cats, my dog and my amazing fuzzy rabbit.

I walk barefoot as much as I can. Naked as much as I want. I lay on the cool floor, stretch like a cat and relishing in every single crack and pop from my achy back.

I drink terere like it's a magical potion and it may as well be in the sense that every zip is like drinking the scent of fresh soil.

I go out for no reason at all. I take my rabbit with me, sometimes my dog too and we sit at the supermarket bench enjoying the breeze of the door ventilators and people-watch.

I talk to them too. The ones brave enough to approach the crazy lady with a rabbit and dog in her lap. I see myself as the coocky zanny character they'll go tell their spouces about later.

I relish in the moment of being the magical creature in young children's minds when they see me in my rainbow hippie-ish clothes and walking my bunny on a leash because I know they'll recall my image for the rest of their lives while reminiscing about their childhood.

I enjoy my food unapologetically like an animal. I dig my teeth into my guilty pleasure burgers while whipping ketchup with my arm.

I've got a bird living in my bathroom as I raise it from a fledgling. A pigeon who takes showers with me. I talk to my plants as if they're my children.

I have lost the need for a standard and majorly consistent routine. I've created my own because I live and work for me. Me and my children, ofcourse.

I've become somewhat ... adapted to my limitations. But from that, I've embraced what I've accomplished and I've expanded them into real-life fantasies.

Maybe I'll never have the classic happy life. Maybe I'll never call anyone husband or work in a studio. Maybe I'll never drive a car or have many many many friends.

Maybe, I'll never dare to step outside my comfort zone in a major crazy way.

Because I don't want to risk this. This life I have. This autonomy. This freedom. This leasure.

To be crazy, messy, wild and fantastically deluded. I'm supposed to be!

I'm the crazy neighborhood lady. The witchy aunt figure that teaches you how to throw clay and lose your fear of bees.

I'm me. This me that exists for now.... and when that starts to change as I move to the next chapter... God I hope it still feels like it.

#artists on tumblr #neurodivergent #spirituality #wild woman #witch

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seahagart · 3 months

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I'd love to see how Drifa handled the Emerald Grove between the druids and the tieflings. It's not the romance, but I think her straightforward nature would be interesting in that situation!

Ooo yes! It would be kinda complicated.

Drífa is very pragmatic and is a ‘survival of the fittest’ type, the strong overcome the elements, wilderness vs man, etc. she probably would initially understand the druids, the tieflings showed up and are taking their resources and the Druids are ‘protecting their own’, people have intruded on their territory… these people are intruding on holy ground, holy ground to a god of nature (she worships a goddess of nature) she doesn’t dislike the tieflings at all, she probably doesn’t even really wanna be involved, Drífa falls ass backward into doing the right thing because she’s a good person

But when Drífa finds out the head Druid is going to kill a child for stealing, in her eyes, a rock, she immediately changes her mind. She would listened to the situation from both sides before casting judgement, but to her Kagha is going to kill a kid for stealing a statue that… she has back?

Drífa is a very stalwart person, but kids are the only thing that can stray her from her teachings and she would immediately be disgusted by the Druids. To kill for the sake of killing or for a show is against her beliefs and that’s what kagha is doing. To say you are guardians of nature and willing to snuff out life for a ‘false idol’ Drífa isn’t materialistic so the statue is nothing. She would be very straight to the point her disgust, and probably be a bit hostile to everyone in the vicinity because the idea that ‘someone is the high Druid by ‘right’ so we can’t stop them’ is ridiculous. Obviously the strongest and best for the community should be leading, and these are weak and cowardly so she will find the Halsin to restore balance.

Probably give Arabella a gruff and stern talking to, and pat on the head… but deep down is thinking of her child that she couldn’t save. She would then be very motivated to find Halsin and help the tieflings since the ones sworn to protect the natural order are being complete morons

I do think it’d be funny if to her Halsin is a tree hugger comparatively and she’s like ‘oh lord… another elf… this one’s a gd hippie….’ Jkjk I do think she’d be disappointed when the bear turns into a man. Obviously Halsin watches her eat honeycomb with her bare hands and needs her carnally

She would then help the tieflings escape because they deserve a chance to start their own community elsewhere

She’d help the tieflings and then put her hands on and nod and just leave and they have to chase her down to go to the party because ‘why you have talk to Drífa? Is ok- I go now- why thank?’

#Drífa #thank you for the ask btw!!!#halsin

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bitterpotionn · 7 months

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I’ve never used this before but could we possibly get some interactions between Johnny’s daughter and other members of the family like Sissy, Bubba, and maybe grandpa? I feel like Johnny probably wouldn’t let Drayton near her lol

I think interactions between Johnny's daughter and the family would be extremely, extremely limited.

Johnny barely lets you around the family, so he's sure as hell not going to let his daughter be around them much. Nancy though, would insist on it. After all, "a girl needs a strong family foundation to flourish", according to Nancy.

Any interaction with the family other than Nancy would be closely monitored by Johnny. It's not that Johnny is worried they might hurt her in any way, it's more so a possession thing.

Johnny owns you and his daughter. You both are his. He doesn't want anything happening to either of you that he isn't aware of.

The relationships his daughter has with the family are relatively good if not surface level.

You're absolutely right. Johnny wouldn't let her around Drayton. As we all know, Johnny and Drayton don't have a great relationship. Drayton already has some things to say about his daughter, referring to her (not so affectionately) as the "love child." Their interactions are limited and I doubt they would even talk to each other.

Nubbins would actually be more curious than anything. He would try to show her some of his animal bones and pictures. Though, Johnny would quickly object to that and snatch her away from him. "Don't be puttin' things like that in her head, idiot."

Bubba, like Nubbins, would be curious. But ultimately, he is too scared to approach or talk to her because he fears what Johnny might do. They would have small interactions like if she waved at him he would apprehensively wave back, that is after he made sure Johnny wasn't looking.

Johnny would allow her to approach Grandpa. However, she wouldn't get much interaction out of him considering his state. Johnny would tell her stories of him in his prime.

Johnny would be the most comfortable with Sissy being around her. Sissy would dance around with her and teach her the songs she knows. Johnny would try to limit their interactions, while he is comfortable around her, he doesn’t want Sissy’s flighty personality to rub off on his daughter. He knows that Sissy runs around with those “backhouse hippies” and he doesn’t want his daughter getting the same ideas.

As I’ve expanded on and alluded to in some of the previous headcanons, Black Nancy would be very present in her life (I will be expanding on this dynamic in a future post)

“Daddy!” Johnny heard an excited shriek as she approached him. He was doing some repairs on the camper roof, you have been complaining to him that it was leaking and he decided to take a look at it before he went on another “trip.”

He peeked his head over the roof, looking down towards the ground. He was met with his daughters wide smile as she jumped up and down excitedly. “What is it?” He huffed out, a small scowl adorning his face. He didn’t like to be interrupted.

“Sissy showed me a new dance move you have to seeee!” Her voice was whiny as she clasped her small hands together, making a small pout on her face. He grumbled and looked around “Ain’t your mama around here somewhere, why don’t you go show her?” He suggested. In all honesty, he was trying to get her to leave him alone, he was eager to get this job done so he could get going. He was getting ancy. It gets worse when he hasn’t left the farm to “hunt” for a while.

“Mama is busy cleaning! Plus I’ve showed her like five time already!” Her voice was still whiny as she jumped up and down. “Please please please please-“ her begging was ringing in Johnnys ears as he rumbled out a response. “Enough of that, I’m comin’ down.”

After he made his way down the latter he stood in front of her with his arms crossed. She smiled up at him. She went on to dance in front of him, it wasn't perfect, she didn't have much grace as she twirled around, it was clear Sissy showed her how to dance in a drug-filled haze.

Johnny couldn't help but smile as he watched her. When she was finished she did a dramatic bow towards him. Her eager eyes looked up at him, she wore a hopeful smile, "Did you like it?"

Johnny grinned and picked her up. "It was amazin', never seen nothin' like it before." She giggled happily as she hugged his neck. "I've been practicin'!"

"I can see that darlin'" Johnny put her back down on the grass as he fully stood up. "I gotta get back to work, honeybee. A lot to do before I leave" he explained looking down at her.

"You're leavin'?" her southern twang was similar to his, her voice was shaky as she frowned up at him. Johnny didn't answer, he just nodded. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked down at her feet. "But you just got back..." her words trailed off to a quiet whisper as tears welled up in her eyes. Johnny let out a small sigh. "Look-" Just before he could say anything, she turned and walked off towards the back shed where you were.

Johnny just stood there for a while, watching her walk off out of view. He sighed deeply before getting back on the roof and continuing the repairs.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm game #tcm #tcm game #johnny slaughter x reader #bitterpotionnheadcanons #johnnyslaughterdaddy'sgirl

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goatcheesecak3 · 2 months

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Art teacher

Adam Stanheight x reader (with a sprinkle of Daniel Matthews & Brent Abbot)

Fic type: basically just a very longwinded headcanon, wholesome, platonic.

Summary: your boyfriend, Adam comes home and excitedly tells you about the art lessons he's been teaching for two boys he met at survivors meetings.

Adam arrived home, his already tatty clothes covered in specs of paint.

You turned to look at him, a proud smile stretching across your face.

"Looks like you and the boys had a lot of fun" you chuckled, kissing Adam's cheek as he kicked his shoes off and hung up his bag.

"Yeah, they're really smart kids y'know? They've both got real talent" Adam grinned.

The aforementioned "boys" were two teenagers by names of Brent and Daniel. Both rebellious and rambunctious, but sweet at heart. Adam had met them at jigsaw survivor meetings and over the last few months, the two boys had grown pretty fond of Adam. Aside from their similar trauma, they all had quite a lot in common, their love of punk music and art had been easy to bond over, and the two teens saw Adam as a sort of big brother figure. After a while of getting to know eachother at meetings, Adam had asked the boy's mothers if they might enjoy taking some art lessons from him, as a way to try and find a positive outlet for all their emotions left from various traumas.

Since both boys had recently lost their fathers, their mother's were more than eager for their children to have a positive male role model back in their lives, and jumped at the offer.

Adam flopped down on the sofa, visibly exhausted but with a satisfied smile.

"I really think I'm starting to get through to them, you know, y/n" he beamed, patting the seat beside him for you to sit down.

"Daniel's art is so intense and thought provoking, and Brent's been trying different mediums- he's gotten so good with spray paint!"

You couldn't help but swoon, watching how excited Adam got over the boys' progress, he really was ever so good with kids.

You took Adam's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm so proud of you" You beamed, taking his face in your other hand and lightly caressing his cheek.

"Heh... thanks" Adam chuckled shyly, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.

"Y'know.." he said, a look of realisation creeping onto his face, "it's funny that that asshole, jigsaw claimed he was trying to make me appreciate life more, he didn't need to shackle me up in some prehistoric bathroom to achieve that, all I needed was an afternoon teaching those boys how to paint, and that's enough to turn me into some sappy, life is beautiful maaaaan hippie guy"

Adam chuckled, he seemed more able to talk about jigsaw ever since being in those survivor meetings, and his sardonic sense of humour had returned in full swing, it was nice to see.

Adam continued to mentor the two boys, growing close with their mother's and really becoming part of each boy's families. Years and years down the line, he was best man at both of their weddings

"It only makes sense," They would go on to explain, "you're my brother".

Hello!! I've had this idea in my head for a long time, it just made sense to me that Daniel and Brent would be friends, and that they would look up to Adam as the cool older punk guy at the meetings :'^)))) sorry it's short and kinda rambly, I just needed to get these thoughts out in some way because brainrot etc etc

#adam stanheight #brent abbott #Daniel matthews #saw #sawposting #saw headcanons #hcs #adam stanheight x reader #platonic ship #saw 2004 #saw ii #saw vi #devon bostick #leigh whannell

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divorcedfiddleford · 5 months

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ok last thing i SWEAR im gonna shut up after this but i just wanted to post michael rianda's outline for the jack kerouac wendy episode that i mentioned. it definitely needed a lot of work but i do like it in concept. image ID/transcript below the cut (warning it's LONG)

[image 1 ID: a screenshot of a tweet from michael rianda. it reads: "I Found a Lost Wendy Episode of Gravity Falls! We were always trying to crack a Wendy episode. This was my favorite. I love the teenage feel of wanderlust + getting excited about reading "On the Road." I love the backstory and flaw. It didn't work but I always liked it." end image 1 ID.]

[image 2 ID: a screenshot of michael rianda's outline. from here i will simply transcribe what he has written, only fixing typos that interrupt screen readers.

Episode 3. Wendy's "On the Road" This is the first in a series I did where I wanted to get to know a character better, and I started with that desire, and followed it through.

Cold Open: A woman answers a phone at a Wal-Mart type superstore place. Wendy's on the other end with Dipper and Mabel. She asks to be transferred to extension 234. Extension 234 connects them to the stores loudspeaker speakerphone. Wendy starts making joke announcements over the loudspeaker: Wendy: "Clean up to aisle 6, customers seem to be projectile vomiting all over eachother." Mabel and Dipper are laughing hysterically. The woman can't hang up on Wendy so she calls the cops. Wendy's still going. Soos asks if she could get in trouble for it. Wendy brushes him off. Then the cops show up. Stan sees Wendy arrested and swells with pride- "she HAS been learning from me (quietly weeps) I'm so proud."

Act One: Open on Manly Dan... by his age it must be the past- he teaches his boys to chop wood and they're all struggling. A huge tree drops in the distance. When the dust clears... it's little Wendy. He tells her to climb aboard his shoulders my little axechild! They happily gallop off. They love each other. It's very sweet. Cut to present day: A confrontational Manly Dan is bawling Wendy out for getting in trouble for the prank phone call. He tells her not to be so impulsive and do the first thing that pops into her head. Wendy insists Manly Dan is the most impulsive person she knows, besides the cops left her off with a warning. She brushes it off by saying she has to go to work.

B story. (Not sure what)

Wendy's reading On the Road at work. She's getting progressively more pumped about this book. Mabel asks what it's about. She explains it all and the kids are pumped. They're swept up in this romanticized teenage vision of hitchhiking on the open road. Stan has to leave for some secret portal reason and Wendy's like: "Let's do this right now!" (Secretly she just doesn't want to go home and deal with her dad.) "Let's do it let's just hitch hike. Leave town! Start a new life! Like Jack Kerouac!" Mabel is enamored.

End image 2 ID.]

[Image 3 ID: picking up from the transcript of the previous image:

Soos is wary of leaving the shop at first. But Wendy talks them into it. A couple of her friends come. Lee, Nate, Thompson, and Tambry. They get on the road and are immediately having fun. Things are looking up. Soos is worried. Wendy: "Easy Soos, we're in Oregon... it's just going to be a bunch of nice hippies..." Cut to a terrifying crazy red eyed driver without a face driving towards them. Act break.

Act Two: Wendy and Co are having fun just like you should on a road trip/vagabond adventure. They're stopping at mini-marts and getting lame snow globes- and making fun of them. Things are looking good. It's like a road movie. They all relate to each other about problems with their parents. Wendy doesn't say much but she has a flashback to her and her dad drifting apart.

Stan B Story.

The scary faceless driver comes by and offers them a ride. (they can't see his ghoulish faceless self) Wendy immediately says yes before anyone else can decide. People are like "I don't want to go hitch-hiking." "Wendy: It'll be fine! Come on- this is the adventure of our lives. People in those stories never said, no I'm scared." She makes them all go in. It's creepy and tense in the car. Eventually the guy reveals himself to be a horrifying ghoul face and locks the doors. They all go screaming into the distance.

Act Three: He takes them to the "End of the Road" Diner. Or you hang a lampshade on it and have it be Bob's Big Boy but with a David Lynch head on the outside. There are other people that get taken there and stay forever and are sort of these lost souls that are stuck there. From all different eras. It's like this terrifying Lynch-ian dark version of an idyllic road trip stop. Basically it's a Lynch parody fest with Soos and Mabel. Like these little creepy old couple are walking in fast motion out of a wall and Soos is pushing them back in. "Whadda you doin grandma and grandpa... get outta that mouse hole. Get back in that mouse hole you goofs." (Probably too insane) Anyway, everyone wants them to have "the special" and after you eat the special, you stay there forever. Wendy's really guilty that all this is her fault.

End image 3 ID.]

[Image 4 ID: the last of the transcript:

Wendy wants to impulsively react, but remembers her dad. She thinks carefully what to do and comes up with a plan- and chops down a tree on the driver. They all come home- relieved to be back in Gravity Falls, and her dad is chopping wood in the back- he's still mad at Wendy.

Wendy: Hey... Dad? Manly Dan: (grunts) Wendy: Can I chop some wood with you? Manly Dan just nods and waves her off. They fell the tree. Manly Dan: Haha! That's my little axechild! Wendy smiles and keeps chopping.

Something like that- obviously a lot of variables to be figured out- but I love the teenage feeling of this and love that it gives Wendy a story and a flaw. Still needs work to make her better but it's a start.

End image ID.]

#gravity falls #tales of the wild zeep #like it's not perfect but it's at least SOMETHING. god #anyway going to be bitter forever that this couldve been our road trip episode and instead we got fucking roadside attraction #also... dan calling her 'my little axechild'... trans wendy is so fucking real you guys #if i had a nickel for every time a linda cardinelli character went hitchhiking because jack kerouac did it and she thought it was cool...#...i'd have one nickel. which is a shame because if they made this episode i could've had two

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the-badger-mole · 1 year

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I think it’s very disturbing how Aang’s favoritism is borderline segregation. He bars his non-airbending children from their Air Nomad heritage simply because they cannot bend his element and the fact that Bumi and Kya look more like Katara doesn’t help, especially considering that Aang is shown being insensitive towards her culture in the show. Any thoughts on this? Would this just be considered pure discrimination?

I think Aang has a real superiority complex about the Air Nomads. Maybe if he had actually addressed his trauma about losing them, he could've come to some sort or equilibrium, but instead Aang (and the show) present the Air Nomads as an idyllic society where everyone was the most spiritual, peace loving hippie to ever grace the planet, and Aang operates under that belief. We know for sure he's okay with segregation as long as it doesn't affect him, but how he treated his older kids...I don't think they ever would've been interested enough in the Air Nomads for him because they weren't airbenders. We saw with the Acolytes that he was willing to teach non-airbenders the Air Nomad beliefs and heritage, but Bumi says that he didn't feel like he could be included until he got airbending...despite actually being half-AN.

Also, let's talk about how the assertion that every Air Nomad is an airbender thing is proved a lie with Kya and Bumi's existence. The idea that a nomadic people who according to Lore weren't big on monogamy weren't mixing and mashing with people in the other nations is even more ridiculous than the idea that a complete and total genocide of an ENTIRE people could be carried, and carried out in one day. All that says to me is that the Air Nomads didn't take care of their non-bending kids. The lucky ones, I'm sure, got to stay with their non-airbending parents. So, I guess it's safe to assume that by being an absent and negligent parent, Aang was carrying on an Air Nomad tradition with Kya and Bumi after all.

#atla #anti aang #anti kataang #i don't buy that the air nomads were as pure and simple as aang and bryke make them out to be #aang was a terrible father #but maybe that's all the AN heritage he thought to give his non airbending kids #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

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treehuggerfrvr · 4 months

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Hazel Callahan x Alternative!Gf hcs

this can apply to hopefully most alternative subcultures, the ones I have in mind most here are hippie and goth!🫶🏻

cute and fun stuff :))

when she first saw you, she was immediately drawn to you by your style and told you you looked cool

she loves playing with your jewellery when cuddling, especially your rings. sometimes you even borrow eachother's rings

you also make jewellery together

she watches you put your outfits together and wonders how you put that wardrobe together in the first place you spent so much time in the closet you better have good style

she loves that you don't take shit from anyone for dressing differently and loves how confident you are in your individuality

she lets you give her makeovers every once in a while for fun

when you steal clothes from eachother it's so obvious it's not your own because of the style difference

you have a playlist of your mixed music tastes and play it while you're doing something together like baking

you dance around the kitchen to the music together and you teach her to dance like you do in your unique way

her mother's eyes widened a bit when she first met you and she was a bit skeptical but she quickly warmed up to you once you started talking

your parents were positively surprised when you brought home a more "normal-looking friend" (your parents are supportive of your style though)

she made colour-coded notes about the subculture, with history and key points and elements to remember

you let her play with your hair and braid it once the outfit for the day is taken apart

you both find it funny how contrasting your outfits are and the looks you get when you go out together

sometimes she gets scared she'll ruin your makeup or outfit if she hugs you too much or kisses your cheek but you assure her it's completely fine and it doesn't matter

your idgaf attitude gives her confidence to be herself too

hope you enjoyed :))

have a great day/afternoon/evening/night wherever you are!!

#bottoms hazel #hazel callahan #headcanon #headcanons #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fanfic #alternative #wlw #lesbian

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off-phelia · 2 years

Text

Ok but

Eddie Munson x Hippie!Reader? 👀

They are literally the definition of opposites attract;

Eddie is a gremlin and reader is all peaceful;

Reader goes to all of Eddie's concerts even if it's not they ideal type of music;

Eddie's ears bleed when he listen to The Beatles, but he take it 'cause makes reader happy;

Smoking together;

Reader braiding Eddie's crazy hair;

Argyle and reader being friends and making everyone around lose brain cells when they 2 talk about random things;

Eddie all in dark tones and reader all in vintage tones of clothes;

Eddie finding it funny if the reader is the slurring type when they talks; (Duuuuuddddeeeee~)

Reader making handmade necklaces and giving them to Eddie.

Eddie with a flower crown made by reader;

Eddie getting calm and less anxious when reader is around;

"Pls control ur boyfriend!" - probably Steve

Reader teaching Eddie to meditate and find inspiration in the little things;

"What are you doing?" - Eddie

"Just listening to the sounds of nature" - Reader

"I can only hear the neighbors arguing" - Eddie

"Dudeee she caught her husband cheating" - Reader

After that Eddie sat down and listened to the sounds of nature with you;

Eddie really loves it when you talk about love and peace;

You play guitar together;

You may have different tastes, but you love each other no matter what 💖

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie muson imagine #eddie stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x male reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x black!reader

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thetavolution · 3 months

Text

Modern Day AU

I spent a moment to think what everyone would be up to in a modern day AU.

Astarion: He was pre-law when he got caught up with Cazador. It's less a vampire spawn situation and a more straightforward abuse situation. I think in the AU he was also much younger when Cazador found him. Once he breaks free of Cazador, he might go back into law. He'd end up in therapy and he'd probably have to take a step back to re-evaluate what he wants in life.

Gale: Of course he's a professor. With magic off the table in this particular AU, he'd probably teach as many subjects as they'd let him. Students would constantly have deja vu seeing him in so many classes. He'd be teaching somewhere like Cambridge or Oxford. The subjects that came to mind were English, History of Art, Linguistics, Philosophy, and for reasons I can't explain, German.

Shadowheart: Her ass would be in a cult. She was kidnapped into some kind of Gloriavale situation as a kid. She'd eventually get a taste of freedom and leave the cult for good, especially if a Tav comes her way. Then she'd write a tell-all book and do a lot of Ted Talks about it. As she got older, she'd become more reclusive. She'd write books from her little countryside house full of animals.

Halsin: Halsin would still be a tree-hugging hippy. He'd have an environmentalism related job, like wind turbine technician, environmental technician, or solar installer. (I imagine he'd want something very hands on.) He'd 100% be part of a nudist colony. He'd still be poly, and he'd be very choosey about who he lets into the polycule.

Lae'zel: She'd go to university where she'd be expanding her world. It would force her to unpack her unhealthy home life is. She was probably raised in a jingoistic family. After discovering the power of friendship and self-discovery, she'd make better choices for herself. She'd still be INCREDIBLY disciplined so I imagine she'd be an athlete. Either she'd do professional rugby or MMA. She might do pro wrestling. She wouldn't join the theatrics on purpose. They'd just tap into her natural persona for her character.

Karlach: She worked for Gortash before he made a name for himself in politics. I'm still trying to work out exactly what would happen to her. I imagine he framed her in this universe and she spent 10 years in prison instead of Avernus. Now she's out and wants revenge... but also would love to get her life back. Possibly she has a chronic illness that, if untreated, could kill her. It's not a 1-to-1 for her heart situation, but close.

Jaheira: She refuses to ever retire from her work. She's been a part of almost every humanitarian world org that'll have her, like The Peace Corps. She now runs her own organization that travels the world for humanitarian efforts. She's a widow and she's still the mother to several adopted children.

Wyll: He was on track to make his father proud. He was going to Oxford to study politics until he realized how much he hated it. His father is the mayor of a major city. I'm hesitant to say London because it feels too obvious. Instead, Wyll drops out to pursue humanitarian work. This is where his path crosses with Jaheira as he joins her organization. His father just doesn't get it and they're at odds over it.

Minthara: Military brat who grew up to join the British Military. In her off time, she's in the BDSM scene.

Orin: She is either running a true crime podcast or being talked about on one. Either that or she's a CEO of a drug company a la The Fall of the House of Usher (2023).

Gortash: This dude is running as a Tory and you know it. He left a huge trail of problematic behavior on his Twitter. He made an anonymous Reddit account to post relationship problems on, but everyone figured out it was him almost immediately.

Barcus: This poor man is so tired. He never found his "dream" and he's been going from job to job for decades. After he starts to stand up for himself, he opens an online store based on all his interests and thrives.

I might do more later, but this is all I could think of for now.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 modern au

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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Hi I’m really enjoying your work and was wondering if you are taking requests? If so I do have an idea, it’s based on the song Love grows by Edison Lighthouse where the reader is Eddie’s younger sister but is a flower child/hippie instead of a metal head and Steve is falling in love with her even though they are way way different? I totally understand if your swamped with requests or if your not interested, but thank you for your time!!!

As soon as I read this request I knew I needed to enlist the help of @munson-blurbs because she is an expert on all things hippie and vegan because she is one and I love her so dearly. We collaborated on this together, but she ended up doing most of it, which I will forever be thankful and grateful for. So give Bug some love, because she deserves all of it! Also, I really fell in love with older protective brother Eddie

Words: 4.6k

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard also made by @munson-blurbs 💚

It’s a beautiful day, your first summer in Hawkins. Ever since you’d discovered that you had an older half-brother, the two of you had been getting to know each other. It was weird; sharing a bond by having the same dad, but never having met before in your twenty-two years of life. You’d been dreading moving back in with your mom after your college graduation, so when Eddie offered to let you stay with him for the summer, you’d gladly accepted. You’d even scored a sweet nannying gig for one of the families in the apartment building you’re living in as a way to make some cash before you start teaching full-time in the fall.

You’re watching the two kids run around on the playground at the nearby park. You’d incorrectly assumed that the girls would be completely worn out after your long day at the zoo yesterday, but they’re running around like little maniacs.

“Y/N!” Emily, the younger one, calls out to you. “Watch me on the monkey bars!” You grin and give her a thumbs-up while she swings back-and-forth, giggling wildly.

You feel a tug on your DIY cutoffs and look down to see Emily’s eight-year-old sister, Jessie, looking up at you expectantly. “I wanna play what he’s playing,” she reports, pointing to a young man, about your age, shooting hoops at the basketball court. Before you can stop her, she takes off running. Emily flings herself off of the monkey bars and chases after her sister.

“Girls! Wait!” you shout, but they beat you to the court. As you get closer, you see that the guy is shirtless, sweat dripping from his chest, and you feel yourself blush.

“Can we play with you?” Emily asks him, looking up through her big blue eyes.

You take her hand and are about to tell her that she can’t just run away from you like that when the guy crouches down to be on the same level as her.

“You like basketball?” he asks, a friendly smile crinkling the corner of his eyes as he looks at Emily.

“Is that backetball?” she asks, and both you and the handsome stranger smile at her pronunciation of the game.

“It is,” he says. “Do you want to try bouncing it?”

She eyes the ball hungrily, Jessie half hiding behind your leg as she watches the interaction. The man offers Emily the ball in one of his hands, but hers are so little that she needs both just to take it from him. She experimentally drops it and giggles in delight when it comes back up to her. Jessie, feeling slightly braver now that her sister has the ball, takes a few steps closer to inspect the fun.

The guy stands up and takes a step closer to you. Up this close, you can see the individual beads of sweat running down the muscles of his arms and his abdomen as they make their way to the waistband of his black basketball shorts. He’s beautiful, there’s no other word to describe him. You feel your heart start to race as if you had been the one who had been just shooting hoops.

“These cute little munchkins yours?”

It takes a moment for your brain to recognize he’s talking to you. You wipe your suddenly sweaty palms down the sides of your shirt, hoping the movement just looked like you were putting your hands on your hips.

“I’m their nanny,” you explain. “I’m sorry they interrupted your game, they just got away from me.”

The way he smiles at you makes your knees turn to jelly and you wish you had something to hold on to so you could steady yourself.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he tells you. He offers you his hand. “I’m Steve.”

“Y/n,” you answer as you shake his hand. His palm is warm against yours and you can’t help but notice how small your hand looks in his large grip. “Listen, you, um, you don’t have to play with them,” you tell Steve sheepishly.

He pushes his hair out of his eyes and laughs. “Nah, it’s all good! I used to play on the Hawkins High team, back in the day.” He turns to the girls excitedly. “You wanna learn how to make a three-pointer?”

You can’t help but giggle as they erupt into cheers, Steve giving them step-by-step instructions to dunk the ball in the hoop. You’d never been into jocks, but it looked like that was changing.

The girls laugh as they toss the ball back and forth with Steve while you take a seat on the side of the court to watch them. It looks like he’s given up trying to show them how to properly play and is now just being goofy and trying to make them laugh. It’s more endearing than you expect, and your cheeks start to get sore from smiling at them so much. Emily starts to run backwards but her coordination quickly proves to be not fully formed yet as she trips and falls on her behind. Her hands went out to catch her and from the whines you hear, you’re assuming she scraped them up. You stand up to go over to the little girl, but Steve is already there next to her, down on one knee.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Steve tells her. As you get closer you can see the fat tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Steve can too, and he says, “No need to cry. Just a little scratch, right? Here, let me see.”

He helps her get back on her feet and she holds both of her hands out for him to see. They’re scraped and scratched, but there’s no sign of blood.

“Aw, you’re fine,” Steve tells her with a smile. You shoot him a thankful look and he answers it with a wink that fuels the butterflies in your stomach.

Emily sniffles and nods her little head, her big eyes mirroring Steve’s own beautiful brown ones. There’s a tug on your cutoffs and you look down to see Jessie bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Wanna go back on the slide,” she tells you. Emily’s head perks up at the mention of the slide.

“Take your sister with you, okay?” you say as you pat Emily on the back. Jessie carefully takes her sister’s scraped hand in her own and the two of them run back towards the playground.

Steve stands up next to you and tucks his basketball under his arm.

“Thank you for being so kind to them,” you say.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he says with a shake of his head. Sweat is making pieces of his soft brown hair fall onto his forehead and it takes a large effort not to keep looking at it. “They’re sweet kids.”

“They are,” you agree. “I’m a lucky nanny. Although we do have to work on the whole ‘not asking strangers for basketball lessons’ thing.”

Steve laughs at your joke, and you can’t help but beam back at him. “Well, we don’t have to be strangers. Maybe I could take you out for dinner tonight? Say, around 6? There’s a really good steakhouse that just opened.”

Your stomach sours at the mention of his suggestion; you don’t want him to think that you’re rejecting him. “I’d love to go out with you,” you start timidly, biting at your lower lip, “but I’m vegan. Don’t eat meat or any kind of animal products, y’know?”

You anticipate him calling you high-maintenance or weird, or a scoff at the very least, but his eyes just soften. “That’s really cool, actually,” he says with a grin. “Like, you’re just out here saving all the animals.”

“Not all of them,” you reply shyly, casting your eyes at his shoes. “But I do my best.” You force yourself to look up at him, feeling yourself melt all over again. “I’d still really like that date, though.”

Steve nods. “I’ll figure out a vegan-friendly spot for us between then and now,” he promises. “Let me pick you up?”

“Sure! I live in Candlewood Towers, over on–”

“Oh, yeah! My friend lives in that building; I know exactly where it is,” he says excitedly. You’re about to ask him who his friend is; maybe you know them, but you’re interrupted by the sounds of Emily and Jessie fighting.

“Gotta go break up that WWE match,” you tell him apologetically. “But I’ll see you tonight at 6?”

“It’s a date!” There’s that perfect smile again. If the safety of two adorable children didn’t rest in your hands, you’d stare at it forever.

You love your job, you really do. But it seems like each hour moves at half speed when the girls act up. Especially if you’re looking forward to a date with an attractive basketball player who is good with kids. It’s like Emily and Jessie sense when they’re starting to get on your nerves and always push it a little farther to see how far you’ll go until you break.

“Jessie Anne!”

She knows she’s in trouble from the use of her middle name, and she tries to hide behind the couch. When you start to count down from five, she scrambles out from her hiding place and comes to stand in front of you, eyes down on her feet and fingers fidgeting.

“Emily started it,” she mumbles.

You hold up your hand, not wanting to hear anymore.

“Ha ha!” Emily calls from down the hallway.

“Emily Marie, so help me God! Do you two ever want to go to the park again? Hmm?”

Before either of them can squeak out a reply, the front door opens, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You can tell from Jessie’s tensing up that she knows punishment will be a lot worse from mom than it is from the nanny.

“Hi, girls,” their mother says as she walks in the door. She catches the guilty look on her daughter’s face and sighs. “You’d better have been on your best behavior.”

The two of them glance up at you shyly, and you don’t have the heart to tell their mom the extent of their argument. “Just a little sibling rivalry, but they’re working it out,” you report, and you watch the girls breathe silent sighs of relief.

Their mom eyes you suspiciously, but she doesn’t have the energy to discipline them further, so she drops the matter and hands you your check for the week. “See you Monday,” she dismisses you, and you wave back at the girls when they stand at the glass door and say their good-byes.

You normally try to be considerate of your shower time, considering Eddie’s the one who pays the water bill, but it’s your first date here in your new town. You lather the shampoo and conditioner into your wild hair, knowing it'll be all but useless once the humidity hits it. At the risk of seeming too overeager, you carefully shave your legs, reasoning that it’s summer and you’d be shaving them anyway. But you know the truth.

Wrapping a scratchy green towel around your body, faded from years of use (and that time your brother spilled bleach on it), you quickly exit the warmth of the steamy bathroom. You have to pad across the living room to get to your bedroom, and the chill of the air conditioning always hits you like a slap.

“Bathroom’s free, Eds–Steve?!” You clutch the towel to your torso. Eddie’s throwing himself in front of you, blocking your barely-covered body. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve cover his face.

“Y/N…I’m not looking, but I gotta ask–why are you showering at Eddie Munson’s apartment?” The confusion is evident in his tone, and you realize the conclusion he’s jumped to.

“Dude, that’s my sister!” Eddie answers for you, ushering you into your room. “How do you even know–oh, shit. Is the cute girl from the park my little sister?!?”

Your cheeks warm at the idea that Steve’s been talking about you and referring to you in such an endearing manner. It’s so sweet that you nearly forget that he just saw you half-naked–but not completely.

“What are you doing here? It’s only 5:00,” you call out from behind your door. He wasn’t supposed to pick you up for another hour.

Steve hesitates to answer, so Eddie sneakily jumps in.

“Loverboy here wanted some advice on impressing the gorgeous hippie girl he met today,” he teases, though you’re unsure whether or not you or Steve is the butt of the joke. Maybe it’s both of you.

“Shut up!” Steve hisses through gritted teeth, and you hear a pillow smack into Eddie.

Your brother is persistent, intent on torturing the poor guy. “Oh, Eddie,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice, “she has the prettiest eyes and the nicest smile; I just wanna take her on the best date ever!”

“I do not sound like that,” Steve mumbles his retort.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Stevie,” Eddie says, “you should’ve heard what she said about the hot guy playing basketball who–”

“Eddie, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I will tell every woman in Hawkins that you have a micropenis!” you threaten. “And the guys, too, just to cover all bases!”

Thankfully, that quiets him. You slide on a pair of denim cut-offs and a light pink babydoll top. You run a comb through your towel-dried hair and spray some hairspray in a feeble attempt to tame it. After a few swipes of mascara, a touch of lipstick, and a couple of spritzes of your favorite flowery perfume, you consider yourself ready to go. You look in the mirror and take a deep breath, your heart still beating wildly at the shock of seeing Steve standing in your living room when you were fresh out of the shower. There’s still a slight flush to your face, but it looks cute. Like a natural blush.

As soon as you open your bedroom door you hear the two of them bickering, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry I don’t keep you updated on what my relatives look like, Steve.” The sarcasm dripping from his voice is thick enough to cut with a knife. “But what about you, Stevie? Do you have any cousins or long-lost relatives that are hot as shit and you’re holding out on me?”

“Jesus Christ, Munson, it was just a question!”

“Are we ready?” you ask as you step into the room. Both guys shut up and turn their heads to look at you. You shoot Steve a pleading look as you grab your bag and head towards the front door.

“Be home by eleven,” Eddie says.

“I’m an adult,” you remind him.

“Um, don’t leave your drink unattended.”

“Dude,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at his friend.

“Well, then…use protection!”

“Eddie!” Your face turns as red as a tomato, and you hurry out of the apartment before Eddie somehow makes it worse.

“Listen, I missed over twenty years of brothering,” you hear him call after you. “I’ve got some making up to do!”

Steve closes the door behind the two of you and you shake your head, hiding your face in your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you say when you finally lift your head.

“Hey,” Steve says with a chuckle. “Maybe I should be saying that. I think I’ve known Munson longer than you have.”

“Technically, I’m ‘Munson’ as well, you know,” you say as the pair of you walk down the flight of stairs at the end of your hall.

“That’s so weird,” Steve says with a laugh. “Not like I think you’re weird! I just meant that, you know, there being another Munson around.”

“Steve, I knew what you meant.” You assure him with a smile and gentle hand on his arm. He takes instant note of how soft the skin of your hand is against him, and you find yourself wilting when you have to let go to get in the car. “Honestly, having a sibling is still kinda strange to me. I only found out about Eddie last year.” You shake your head, as if clearing the thoughts from your brain like an Etch-a-Sketch. “Enough about my brother. Tell me about you.”

Steve talks about how he started off as a cashier at the local Family Video, eventually working himself up the ranks until he was managing the branch. “I like being in the store, making sure everything’s running smoothly,” he explains. “Corporate’s not really my scene.”

You nod in agreement. “I bet your employees love you.”

He laughs. “Right now, my employees are the kids I used to babysit, back in the day,” he says, although back in the day was only about six years ago. “They’re home from college for the break, so I hooked them all up with summer gigs.” He clears his throat, briefly diverting his gaze from the road to your face. “What about you? How’d you get into the nannying scene?”

You giggle at his phrasing. “Just something I’m doing till I start my full-time teaching job in September,” you tell him, proudly adding, “I’ll be Hawkins Elementary’s newest first grade teacher.”

Steve’s face lights up at your achievement. “Well, if you’re anything like you are with the girls, your students will adore you.”

Blushing at his compliment, you quickly change the subject before he can notice your rosy cheeks. “So, where exactly are you taking me?” you ask.

“Oh, shit, right!” He bites his lower lip. “Honestly, I had no idea where to find a good vegan restaurant around here, so I decided on a picnic. I hope that’s all right?”

You take note of the picnic basket resting on the backseat floor. “You went to all that effort for a first date?”

“Gotta make a good impression, right?” He pulls into a spot near the picnic area of the park and kills the engine. He hops out of his seat, jogging to the other side of the car to open your door for you.

“So chivalrous,” you tease him lightly, and his cheeks tinge pink. When he takes your hand to help you out of your seat, he doesn’t let go; instead, he laces his fingers with yours. You open the back door so he can grab the picnic basket.

“There’s a blanket in the trunk we can sit on,” Steve says. You reach in and pull out a light yellow blanket, and you can’t help but smile.

“Yellow’s my favorite color,” you tell him happily, tucking it under your arm. “You’re already off to a great start.” The two of you walk hand-in-hand to a grassy area, setting up your picnic in the sun.

Steve unpacks the basket as you splay out on the blanket. “Is PB&J okay?” he questions nervously, breathing a small sigh of relief when you tell him you could never turn down peanut butter.

“Cool,” he continues, taking out some trail mix, clementines, and juice boxes of lemonade. “Oh, and the grand finale!” He dramatically presents a box of vegan chocolate chip cookies. “I found them at the health food store; dunno how good they taste, though.”

“There’s only one way to find out!” You open the box, fish out a cookie, and break it in half. “To new beginnings,” you offer, nudging his half with your own in a quasi-toast.

“These are pretty good,” you tell him while munching on the treat. “One day, I’ll have to bake some for you. Eddie says they’re the best cookies he’s ever had, and you know that man doesn’t mess around with food.”

Steve gives a hearty laugh, having been on the receiving end of Eddie’s food-induced wrath more than once. “I would really, really like that,” he says. You feel yourself blush, and you place your hand atop his, squeezing it gently.

You and Steve polish off the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and split the trail mix, swapping childhood stories. There’s something so comforting about his presence, and you find yourself opening up about being raised by a single mom–and the term raised is generous, considering she was busy jumping from boyfriend to boyfriend instead of taking care of you. Steve tells you about his upbringing: how he always felt his parents had a kid because it was “just something married people do,” like they were ticking off a box on a checklist. They spent all their time working, and when they weren’t, they were berating him for not working hard enough. “Even now,” he tells you, gazing into your eyes, “I manage Family Video, but my dad’s still on my ass about doing that corporate shit.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “You have to do what you like, Steve,” you say softly. “It’s your life, and you can’t spend it being miserable.”

He hesitates before leaning over, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Has anyone told you that you’re, like, the sweetest person ever?” You can’t manage a response; every cell in your body is humming at the fact that this incredibly charming, funny, handsome man likes you.

“Have you been to any of Eddie’s concerts yet?” Steve asks after a few moments, nibbling on another cookie.

“Yeah, a few,” you answer, wrinkling your nose in a way Steve finds absolutely adorable. “They’re very, uh, loud.”

“Mhm,” he agrees. “Not really your scene?”

“Not at all,” you laugh, “but I like supporting him, y’know?”

He takes a sip of lemonade and nods. “So, who’s your favorite music artist?”

You gasp in mock offense. “That’s like asking someone to choose their favorite child!” you tease. “Obviously, The Beatles are incredible, but I also love Jefferson Airplane, Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan…”

“Damn, you really are a hippie chick!” Steve says with a grin. “Bet you would’ve gone to Woodstock if you were, y’know, born.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have been there,” you agree, sighing forlornly at the idea. “For now, I’ll just have to settle for the movie.”

“I’ll make sure Family Video has it in stock,” he promises, beaming at you.

Steve drives you back to the apartment; you both keep stealing glances and giggling at each other throughout the ride. He pulls up to your building and walks you to your door.

“Thank you for the amazing picnic, Steve.” You’re suddenly shy, unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe we can do this again sometime?”

“I mean, you said you were gonna bake me cookies, so I’m definitely holding you to it.” He tilts your chin up with his forefinger, bringing his plush lips to yours. It’s sweet and soft; you find yourself pressing on your tiptoes and putting your hand on his bicep, deepening the kiss.

“That’s enough!” a voice booms from the third floor. You look up to see Eddie scowling down at you both from the open window, arms crossed over his chest.

“Wanna mess with him?” you whisper to Steve, who nods enthusiastically. You turn to see your brother and give him a shit-eating grin. “Hey, big bro,” you start, “can Steve and I have the apartment for a little while? His car wasn’t roomy enough to try the positions I normally like.” Steve’s cheeks puff out as he tries to stifle a laugh, and Eddie’s face turns bright red.

“Wha–what?” Eddie sputters, and you and Steve can’t contain yourselves any longer, cackling loudly.

“I’m kidding!” you reassure him, adding cheekily, “the car had plenty of room.”

“Steve Harrington, if you touched my sister, I swear!”

Two months later, in early September, there’s a small crowd of people in your apartment for Steve’s birthday celebration. Eddie’s there; he’s gotten more comfortable with your relationship with Steve, save for the times he’s spotted you kissing and made exaggerated retching noises. Nancy and Robin are drinking spiked punch, catching up and chatting about work. Dustin, who came home from college just for the party, is chewing Steve and Eddie’s ears off about his campus’s DnD club. He’s already reassured your brother–twice–that the Dungeon Master is nowhere as cool as he is. Max is helping you put candles in the birthday cake, telling you about a protest she attended at Hawkins Community College.

“I never knew how fucked up the wage gap is,” she’s saying, waving her hands passionately. “I mean, forget about between men and women; have you seen the stats on how much less Black women make compared to white? And it’s even happening at HCC!”

“You should let me know when the next protest is.” You press the last candle into the cake and turn to her. “I’d love to go with you!”

Max nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that would be awesome!” She grins, cocking her head. “I can’t believe Steve ended up with someone who actually cares about something other than this season’s nail polish color.”

“Can someone bring out the cake before Henderson tells us another story about his amazing new DM?” Eddie laments, rolling his eyes.

“I told you,” huffs Dustin, clearly irritated by Eddie’s whining, “you’re still the best DM I’ve ever known.” Maybe the third time’s the charm?

“We’re coming,” you call out from the kitchen, grabbing a lighter from the top drawer and flicking on the flame. Everyone bursts out into an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” with Steve using his fingers to mimic a conductor. Eddie rolls his eyes at the cheesy behavior and slings his arm over Nancy’s shoulders. You place the cake in front of Steve and kiss his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” you whisper in his ear while the rest of the group sings. He loops his hand around against your cheek, smushing your face to his.

Robin cuts the cake, and Steve devours his slice. “Babe, is this really vegan?” he asks incredulously. “It’s so good!”

There’s a splotch of chocolate frosting on his nose, and you lick it off with a giggle. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” I love you, he wants to say, but the first time he tells you will not be in front of his crazy friends. “I’m gonna grab another piece.” He cuts himself a huge hunk, spearing it with his fork and offering you the first bite, which you gladly accept.

You’re cleaning up later, wiping down the table and washing dishes. There’s no leftover cake to be put away; to your delight, it had been finished by the end of the party. Steve snakes his hands around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder as you scrub a plate.

“Did I thank you for the best birthday ever?” he asks with a smile, peppering kisses on your cheek.

“Only a hundred times,” you tease him, “but I don’t mind hearing it for the hundred and first.”

“I mean, what else could I ask for?” he continues, “delicious cake, my best friends, the girl I love…” Oh. He didn’t think that this would be how he told you, but he couldn’t take it back now.

You shut off the water and dry your hands. “The girl you love? Is that…”

“It’s you,” Steve says reassuringly. “I love you, Y/N. Like, I’m in love with you. I can’t even explain how happy you make me.”

You put your arms on his shoulders, laying your fingers on the nape of his neck. “I love you, too, Stevie,” you murmur, kissing him softly. “I’m so lucky that you’re mine.”

He deepens the kiss, moving his arms to the small of your back. You’re about to suggest moving this to the bedroom when Steve breaks the kiss suddenly and a wadded-up napkin hits the floor.

“Ow, what the hell?” he mutters, spinning around to see a disgruntled Eddie.

“No feeling up my sister in my house!”

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