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artiststarme · 1 year

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What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Feeling a little evil for this one. I'm sorry guys (but also not really). Warning for migraines and a minor panic attack. Enjoy the angst!

I think I tagged everybody that wanted to be tagged. If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

~*~*~*~

Steve missed home and he missed working with Robin. It was a busy Monday morning at the coffee shop and he had served many an unhappy patron. If he were working a shift at Family Video, Robin would have noticed his shaky fingers and squinted eyes as signs of an oncoming migraine. She would have ushered him into the back room for a nap or sent him home early while he could still drive to rest. But he was in Chicago and Robin wasn’t here. She didn’t even know where he was. So, he tried to ignore the pounding in his skull and the gradual feeling of losing control over his own body as the migraine crept in and threatened to hit him full force.

Betty, his boss and the owner of the shop, noticed him struggling with even the most simple of orders and questioned him in her firm but gentle cadence. Steve admitted to getting migraines due to some head trauma over the years and told her that he was fine to do his job. He saw her discreetly glance to the scar circling his throat and then to the growing line of customers over his shoulder. He doesn’t know what kind of conclusion the kind, old woman came to but with a determined nod, she gracefully shoved him away from the brutish horde and into the back bakery. For the remainder of his shift, he pulled the decadent pastries from the oven and watched muffins settle on cooling racks. Even with the dings of the oven sending troves of pain through his head, Steve felt safe and peaceful in the kitchen surrounded by warmth and the smells of baked goods.

Meanwhile, Betty and the other barista that Steve didn’t remember the name of dealt with the horde of customers ordering coffees and pastries. Betty didn’t mind helping Steve on one of his very clearly rough days. When she had seen him sitting at the counter near the window perusing Help Wanted ads with a scar blemishing his throat and a fearful look in his eye, she knew she had wanted to help him. She herself had once been a terrified youngster all alone in a big city. When he told her about looking for a new job and place to live after leaving his parents’ house, she had read between the lines. She had somewhat-incorrectly assumed that his parents were abusive and had kicked him out for being gay. Who someone loved never mattered to her and she hired him on the spot. Who wouldn’t hire the kind-eyed and soft spoken boy wearing a polo unironically in a coffee shop downtown?

Once the rush had settled, she took her break and helped maneuver Steve into the unit she rented him upstairs. She settled the boy in his second-hand bed and placed a cup of water and a Tylenol next to him on the nightstand she had gifted him. Betty glimpsed at him in sadness before going back to the shop. She would check on him tomorrow morning.

~*~*~*~

Unfortunately, it wasn’t unusual for nightmares to accompany his migraines.

Steve was torn from sleepiness with a nightmare so brutal, Eddie’s bloody form was still stained on his brain even with his eyes open. Steve panted and choked off a shout as his arms flailed and his feet tripped in the blankets. He didn’t even recognize that he was stumbling to the phone in the small kitchen until he was brought back to awareness with a groggy, “Hello?” coming from the phone.

“Hello?” The voice asked again. “If this is a prank call at 3:32 in the fucking morning, I’m gonna…”

“Eddie?” Steve whispered.

“Steve? Steve! Are you okay?” Eddie shrieked loudly and full of concern.

It registered to Steve that it was too early in the morning to call someone, much less someone who didn’t like him. Shit, he shouldn’t have called. As if any of the Party needed more ammunition to use against him. But he always felt a little more vulnerable and alone while in the denouement of a migraine so he supposed it could be forgiven this once.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called. Eddie, I’m sorry. I’m gonna go…” Steve said and made a move to place the phone back in its cradle.

“NO! No, no, no Stevie, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Eddie practically screamed into the receiver, his voice pitchy and shrill.

Steve sighed. If Eddie was keeping him on the phone to talk, surely he wouldn’t mind a few moments? “I had a nightmare and wanted to make sure you were still… okay. I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

Eddie breathed in a sigh of relief and, unknowingly to Steve, placed a hand against his chest to calm the concerned fluttering of his heart. “That’s good, that’s alright. You find a place, then?”

Steve nodded his head before realizing that Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. “Yeah, my new boss is letting me rent out the apartment above the coffee shop. It’s a nice place, I like it.”

“Good. Um, we went to your place to talk to your mom today. Her and your dad went on another business trip. They didn’t seem too concerned with finding where you went, the assholes. So we-”

Yeah, Steve did not want to talk about his hasty exit from Hawkins or his current whereabouts, especially to the guy that initially instigated everything. He angrily huffed into the phone, “I don’t want to talk about that. If you’re just going to keep-“

Eddie backpedaled, “hey, hey, hey, Harrington. We don’t have to talk about that. Do you want to hear about the campaign I’m planning for the kids?”

Steve let out a breath of relief, he could do that. “Yeah man, tell me about your nerd game.”

They spent the next hour near their phones. Both of them sat on their kitchen floors, phone in the crook of their shoulder. One nodding off and the other spouting unintelligible nonsense about an upcoming DnD campaign.

Once Eddie was out of details to add, he stuttered. “H-Harrington? Can you call me later today, please? I won’t ask where you are anymore. We can just talk. Please?”

Steve woke slightly from his dozing state at the pleading tone. Maybe it would be good to talk to someone, even one that disliked him at best. He was getting so lonely and Eddie was offering. Well, Steve wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Sure man, I’ll call you later.”

Eddie let out a huff of relieved laughter, “Cool, I’ll talk to you soon then Harrington.”

Steve nodded, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight Stevie.”

If Wayne walked into the kitchen after his shift to find Eddie sleeping on the floor with the phone cord still wrapped around his finger, no one else had to know.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue

Taglist:@nickavalens@conversesweetheart@themostunoriginalpersonever@swimmingbirdrunningrock@eddiethegreatteddybear @call-me-big-eyes @cornwallisandkerley @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove@thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt@luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @darkwitchoferie @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era@newtstabber@bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd @ohlook-afrog @00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat

#yep I gave steve gay vibes and I don't regret it #steve finally called Eddie! we're getting somewhere #are you guys okay? all the comments say you're sobbing and i'm concerned #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steddie #fanfic #I still hate writing dialogue

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sracha · 1 month

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they went on a date 🤕

#rosebird #big brown eyes summer again. sorry i cannot work with those high beams looking at meeee #strqrock au #sorry i have neglected to mention a third of this au is their strange and beautiful situationship #while they work at Maria’s music store. its great they only break up three different times🫶#they went to that deftones sandwich shop. someone is still hungry i guess 🫣#summer like I’m sending you subliminal messages to come in so i can suck you in an interesting and peculiar way. is it working.#i hate writing dialogue. psychic blasts my keyboard. goodbye.

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worrywart-ish · 6 months

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"Look. If this was... If this was all just some kind of ruse... on my part, I mean, how.. base... Why would I lead you all this way? I'll level with you, yes, I, would, like, it... back. I'd very much, if you must know, but... You know what? At this point I would settle for not being wiped out of existence. I would happily settle for that."

(...)

"We're in a good spot here. A good spot. I kill you, I get my town, get the Transistor... Not bad... not bad. Or you kill me, and well, I've often wondered what it's like in there, so... in a way, no matter what... I win."

(...)

"Poor Asher. For the end, he just... He went and told you our whole plan, did he. Expecting what? Your sympathy? Your mercy?"

me, every single time:

#positively foaming at the mouth #the VOICE ACTING is OUT OF THE WORLD #the dialogue writing is always so damn good #the CHARACTERIZATION good fucking lord #I hated this cocky smart-ass raspy-voiced motherfucker as much as I loved him #anyway it's been days and I'm still thinking about this game #how are y'all doing #nl7 plays #transistor #transistor supergiant #royce bracket

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helianskies · 5 months

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winter prompts ☃️

'tis the season to write some slightly fluffier offerings for once! you know the drill! feel free to check with me if you are unsure if i'd write certain characters/pairings! <3

[ 1 ] - “what do you mean you 'don't need a coat'?”

[ 2 ] - “that was more ice than snow!”

[ 3 ] - “please don't fall!”

[ 4 ] - “maybe you could warm me up...?”

[ 5 ] - “look's like you've caught a cold.”

[ 6 ] - “you're so toasty!”

[ 7 ] - “thank you for making it special.”

[ 8 ] - “i'm actually allergic to holiday cheer.”

[ 9 ] - “let's build a snowman!”

[ 10 ] - “it's just a little something.”

[ 11 ] - “winter and i are sworn enemies.”

[ 12 ] - “but if i get out of bed i'll be cold!”

[ 13 ] - “look, a shooting star!”

[ 14 ] - “you did all of this yourself?”

[ 15 ] - “i can't believe you got me this!”

[ 16 ] - “that's the ugliest jumper i've ever seen.”

[ 17 ] - “you've never been ice-skating?”

[ 18 ] - “can i borrow your scarf?”

[ 19 ] - “come on, dance with me!”

[ 20 ] - “looks like we're snowed in.”

[ 21 ] - “office parties suck…”

[ 22 ] - “dinner is served!”

[ 23 ] - “at least pretend to like it!”

[ 24 ] - “here, warm yourself by the fire.”

[ 25 ] - “no one should be alone for the holidays.”

[ 26 ] - “i have something to ask you…”

[ 27 ] - “don't lick that pole!”

[ 28 ] - “i see we've ended up under the mistletoe.”

[ 29 ] - “hey, no peeking!”

[ 30 ] - “you're the best present i could have ever wished for.”

last year's list of wintery prompts is also over here for those who want to nose! happy december! and of course feel free to have a go at these yourself!

#helia writes #helia's stuff #winter prompts #hetalia #love and hate that prompt 27 is making think of an unfortunate feliks haha #also i know i have some requests still from the last batch of prompts and i'll try to get to those eventually #but i am now in holiday helia mode :')#also pls note the invite to ask me about ships is less an invite and more of a string suggestion #bc unless you know for sure i'll write a certain pairing/character you're taking a bold risk :')#dialogue prompts

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deiaiko · 3 months

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#19.3 Unravel

It had been some time since Agni felt this nervous. Not even talking with Jinsung Ha recently had made him feel like this. He fiddled with the mask on his hand as he waited for Grace to come back. He had thought hard on how to deliver the news, but he knew that no matter how he phrased it, Grace would be upset. Velt nuzzled under his palm and Agni gave her a few pats, before deciding that she would be better inside her bowl in his lighthouse, just in case the shinsu acted up around Grace after he received the news.

Grace came back wearing the comfiest shirt and shorts Agni knew Grace liked to wear on lazy days. He joined him on the floor, and they ate dinner together. Agni always finished last, so while waiting for him to finish his meal, Grace told him about his day with Bam. Grace was intrigued by how much his way of thinking had changed, and how glad he was to be able to be by Bam's side when he was having a bad day. It reminded Agni of the hidden floor, when Grace faced his sworn enemy.

They left the used bowls on the coffee table and went to brush their teeth. Afterwards, they turned off the light and went upstairs to sit on their bed. Grace's curious gaze never left him, and Agni curled his feet nervously.

Grace was the one who broke the silence. "So…what is it?"

Agni's breath hitched. This was the part he dreaded most. "I talked with the crocodile earlier. Did you know that he could manipulate stone already?"

"Huh." Grace needed a few seconds to let the information sink in. "Didn't Rak learn it on the Hell train? How does he know it?"

"Turns out our crocodile also traveled back to the past like us. He found the young crocodile and taught him."

"What?!" Grace gasped, wide eyed. "That means our Rak is–!!"

"He's dead." Agni quickly snuffed out that hope. They had been in delusion for long enough; it was time that they faced the bitter truth. "He suffered a fatal injury from the explosion. He couldn't have lasted long without proper help." Agni omitted the actual cause for Rak's death, but still kept his words true. "I'm sorry."

"…Oh." Grace looked lost, just like Agni was. His lips parted a little, but they closed before any sound escaped.

Agni gently squeezed Grace's hand, encouraging and comforting as he let the silence stretch on, giving Grace some time to process the information.

"Agni…" Grace whispered, "do you think Hatz and Isu…?"

Agni bit his lip and avoided his gaze, as the nightmare of that day replayed in his mind. He witnessed Hatz get his arms ripped off when trying to protect him. He could still recall the clang of a sword hitting the floor, and Hatz's suppressed scream that gnawed deep at his guilt. He witnessed Isu get beheaded after being taken hostage, the memory of warm blood painting them both still vivid like it happened yesterday.

Agni refused to acknowledge their possible deaths, because it felt like a nightmare that one day he could hopefully wake up from. He avoided the topic when Grace brought it up, so he wouldn't have to say it aloud and make it real. He had been so hard on himself, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed Grace and everyone else involved.

Agni knew this had to change if he wanted to live better, now that they had gotten a second chance. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat that had built up over the years and asked mostly to himself; "What are the odds of their survival?"

"There's always a chance–"

"Grace." Agni looked him straight in the eye. "They were already severely injured before the explosion hit."

Grace fell silent and went still.

Agni felt a pang of guilt upon witnessing Grace's reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Agni fiddled with his hands. He realized that he didn't know how much Grace knew of what happened. "My scar…do you know how I got it?"

"I…was told it was from the family heads' battle." Grace looked thoughtful. Agni knew he was trying to be careful with his words. "A stray attack?"

"It could have been worse." The memory of the scorching heat on his skin felt like it had only happened yesterday. He passed out right when he was about to heal Isu, and only found out later that he also lost sweetfish at that time. The days he spent recovering from the burn, to withstand the excruciating pain every second he was conscious, and finally coming to terms that it'd be a permanent scar, was one of the turning points that had changed him forever. Were Grace not there to care for him, he might have ended up destroying himself even more.

Agni hadn't realized he had his left hand clawing on his cheek until Grace pried his hand off and frowned, "You're doing it again."

"Maybe I should wear the mask…" Agni muttered to himself. After all, Grace gave it to him less so he could hide the scar but more to prevent him from unconsciously hurting himself. The only time he could safely take it off was when Grace was around.

Agni bit his lip nervously when Grace didn't reply. He no longer had the courage to look Grace in the eye that spoke so much concern, so he leaned close and rested his head on Grace's chest. "Rak, Isu, Hatz and Hwaryun were trying to get me out of that damned place. But we were caught while escaping, and…it was a bloodbath. I was…too occupied to react to the incoming heat. Rak shielded us from the explosion. And when I woke up…"

"They weren’t with you," Grace finished it for him after Agni trailed off a moment too long.

Agni nodded dazedly, "I've been telling myself that they're still alive, after a blow that could kill rankers. But…who am I kidding? I was lucky enough to survive with just this little–" Agni vaguely pointed to himself– "inconvenience."

Agni felt a hand gripping his arm, and he pulled away to see Grace looking at him with a pained expression. His eyes were glossy and his lips were pulled into a thin line. Trusting his instinct, Agni reached out to gently trace and cup Grace's cheek with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," Agni muttered. "I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner."

Agni silently witnessed tears that streamed down on his love's face. It was a bitter sight that Agni wished he'd never have to see again, that he had tried to avoid for so long by not telling him. He pulled Grace in and held him close to his chest, as if Agni was trying to gather his own crumbled heart back together.

Grace mumbled their late best friends' names as he held onto him tighter, shaking from each breath he took between sniffles.

Agni felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He remembered the years he spent climbing the tower together with his old team. Despite their banter being his source of headaches, Agni knew he too had come to acknowledge them as his cherished friends. Only when they were gone did Agni realize how much he'd miss having them around. Seeing the younger them didn't exactly close the gaping hole in his heart, but at least the emptiness was more filled.

Agni squeezed Grace tighter. "We have their younger selves with us now. We will protect them better this time."

Grace only nodded and sank further into his embrace. And Agni planted kisses on his hair, relishing the thought that after everything he had gone through, Grace was still a constant in his life. As long as he had him, everything would be okay.

When Grace started shaking again, Agni caressed his hair and hummed a comfort song they had known by heart. Still, it didn't make falling asleep any easier for Agni, especially not after admitting that his nightmare was very much real. However, as he had been through grief…this, too, would pass.

Masterlist

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#Whee we get to know some of their past. Specifically their turning point #I hope it flows nicely because i have rewritten this like 3 times now 😭😭😭 dialogues are just not my specialty #like how to make them reveal such information without making them come out of the blue #writing style aside. let's talk about why Agni behaves this way #I will save the details on the what and how for the prologue. but basically Agni had been through hell that he couldn't escape alone #Rak Hatz and Isu saved him (or attempted to). and Agni owed them for saving his life. thus the strong attachment that Khun doesn't have #also let me mention that Agni had trouble differentiating between hallucination and reality after the incident. So he was kind of in denial #maybe Agni had come to a conclusion that they might be dead months after that. but he was too afraid to admit it to Grace #because he thought it was partly his fault for being incompetent. and Grace would hate him for letting their friends die #not wanting to risk being left by Grace. he just put himself (and inevitably Grace too) in the illusion of truth #that there's still a chance their friends are still alive because they have no proof of their deaths #so when Agni was offered to go back to the past. he agreed to it. Already expecting that Rak Hatz Isu aren't the same ones that he looks fo #but it was as good as he could get to redeem himself. Plus they get to meet everyone else who they couldn't save #Anyway. I'm taking hiatus until April. In return I will answer if you have any questions whether it is written in the tags or sent via ask #see ya folks <3 we'll get more brothers and team bonding when I return #tower of god #tog #two sides of the same coin fic #my fic #my art #bam #25th bam #jue viole grace #khun #khun aguero agnis #khunbam #shibisu #ship leesoo #rak wraithraiser #hatz

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the-ace-with-spades · 2 months

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Relating to this post, a snippet of the different first meeting/secret identity au fic (I think I'll stick with exhumation as the title):

The MacTavish House, Erskine, Renfrewshire, Scotland December 2017

Johnny got a call on Christmas Day.

Unknown number, with the Greater Manchester code at the beginning. He missed it, busy helping his Da and sisters with the tree decorating, but when the notification showed up on his Samsung, he felt something heavy drop from his throat to his stomach.

Simon hadn't been answering his texts, yesterday and today.

He was doing, well, not well, but better. He knew he was cleared to go back to work, finally, even if on a limited duty for a couple of months, but he was still having the PTSD episodes, still wasn't sleeping, still was on a constant high-vigilance and it didn't sit right with him. Even months later, everyone was worried about him — his mum, Tommy, Beth — but John wasn't sure they actually understood the extent Simon's issues run. John had opted to ignore it, for the sake of not arguing with Simon, but Simon's family seemed to have a very distorted image of him, like he was this invincible man capable of holding them all together, solving all their problems and never really needing much care himself.

It was easy to fall for the image — Simon, the unmovable wall of a man, standing guard over all of them — and John had fallen for it himself, just to have it shattered when Simon walked away from his grave after whatever happened that had him declared MIA for almost six months. The Simon that came back seemed the same now, to anyone who didn’t look closely, but John knew something died in him in the time he grieved his disappearance.

He loved him all the same.

It didn’t matter if he had nightmares through the nights they were in the same bed, it didn’t matter if he stayed awake and unmoving under John’s arms, it didn’t matter if he spaced out and stared at people’s faces like he could see their bare bones smiling at him, it didn’t matter if he kept scratching at the gnarly scars, opening them again and again. He was still John’s Simon.

He hadn't felt good about leaving him alone for the three days he’d be in Scotland, but it was his first Christmas back since he came—back, and Simon wanted to spent it with his family and not John’s and insisted John went, seeing as he didn't have many opportunities to meet his family much either.

“Promise I’ll try to meet your ma for Easter,” he had told John. He wasn’t sure how much of that promise would actually be kept — John didn’t think Simon would be doing that much better by Easter.

It was just three days and then John would be back in Manchester with the G Squad during the day and Simon during the evening.

He tried to find a quiet place. Impossible with half of their family in his parents’ house, but after shushing one of his nephews out of the living room and sending off his ma back to the kitchen after a couple of, “Yes, A’ll tell him ye’re sending love, ma, even though Am not even callin’ him reit noo,” and a promise to help her season the meat. He stood in the corner, not too far away from the Christmas tree, watching the snow moul their empty laundry line.

He called back the Manchester number.

It kept on ringing and ringing, and he was about to give up when he heard, “Detective Sergeant Wright speaking.”

Chapter 1 will most likely also have those scene headings:

Interrgoration Room, Unnamed Base, New Mexico, USA January 2018

(which is Price & Ghost)

Unnamed Joint Base, Classified Location, Urzikistan October 2022

Unspecified Location, near Verdansk, Kastovia March 2021

(Soap joining the task force)

#im on a roll rewritting all the dialogues again #i hate writing accents #scottish is beautiful (at least glasgowian since i heard that one in person) but its so hard #dunno if ill post it im still thinking about rewriting the whole thing #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod #q #charlie writes #op

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aurorangen · 10 months

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Just laugh it off

Transcript:

Dear Diary, today Uncle Billy taught me how to ride a bike! I learned pretty quickly and I can go so fast now, even faster than Charlie shhh!!

As a reward, I could buy anything I wanted…ANYTHING AT ALL! I said I really wanted this book of amazing facts, so off we went to the bookshop.

I found the book! Then I saw a page about kelp and the word mermaidic kelp. I was so confused, mermaids existing? I’ll ask Uncle Billy later, he knows everything. He’s a journalist and part time detective. I really look up to him!

On the way home, I started talking about new things I learned all from the top of my head! And then I asked Billy if mermaids exist.

Charlie started laughing at me. Billy said of course they don’t exist and started laughing. The I got the giggles. What a stupid question that was!

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #postcard legacy #postcard gen 2 #billy reichmann #charlie reichmann #renee reichmann #renee's thoughts #her mermaid investigation continues #making it up as i go along #so kelp anyone can have including humans and have no effect #then theres mermaid kelp. kelp mixed with a mermaids tears #turns a human into a mermaid and vice versa but w human tears #tears symbolising emotions/embracement of new self/vulnerability #like expressing your tears or weaknesses and when people want to hide or embrace their mermaid form #still hate writing kid dialogue when shes a teen ill feel better 👍

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asleepinawell · 2 years

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Zenos making things Weird™

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxivedit #zenos yae galvus #gamingedit #myedit #mp #i am very much not a zenos stan/simp #hated his dumb golf bag wielding face the moment he showed up #however this scene made me go from hating him to still hating him but finding him highly entertaining #voice actor really just went for it #i was laughing the whole time #like wow zenos wtf my dude #and my poor wol standing there like sir this is a wendys #the garleans need to start carrying folding chairs to hand out when they start monloguing my boy is TIRED #anyway kudos to square for this dialogue they didn't have to write it like that but they did and I think that's neat #zenos being normal saga #<- tag for the full series of gif sets as i make them

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13eyond13 · 1 month

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one of the lesser talked about fun things about intentionally reading more books is finding new stuff to be a bit of a hater about tbh

#and i know sometimes im probably just not properly picking up whatever the writer is putting down but whatever it's still fun #to actually know what you think about stuff like the highly regarded classics and extremely popular hyped up things #here are a few writers im a bit of a hater about w my opinions now btw #neil gaiman: does not do it for me at alllll #have read the graveyard book and american gods and hated almost every minute of both #in american gods i just found the aesthetic ideas and characters completely unappealing and in the graveyard book #i thought it was dreary and not well described enough... kept feeling like it was too bare bones in some way to picture things properly #i was like 'hmm i wish this was one of his graphic novels instead bc i'd like to be able to see what's going on here a bit better...'#also his humour just never lands for me and i do not often get his references either #ray bradbury annoys me in a similar way to neil gaiman but also somewhat oppositely like where #the way they write characters and plots and ideas and the stuff they care about gets on my nerves in an almost identical way #that i don't know how to define except to say i had a bit of a 'same energy' experience reading Something Wicked This Way Comes #and some of neil gaiman's stuff #but unlike neil gaiman i think that ray bradbury attempts to describe things unusually so much and TOO much #to the point that it takes me out of the story in a different yet similar way #to how the lack of description in neil gaiman's stuff does #what else have i become a bit of a hater about or did not get the appeal of lately? hmmm #oh hp lovecraft hahahaha #least scary stories ever god everything he's scared of is so dumb #like even aside from his extremely racist takes and fear of the 'exotic other' his fears about being cosmically insignificant are just like #yeah and? whats so scary about that hahaha i literally just dont get it #also the amount he writes dialogue in heavy accents annoys the shit out of me #p

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artiststarme · 1 year

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What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I wasn't originally going to write about Dustin's reaction but @doubleb11 gave me the idea. I hope it meets your expectations! We go back to Steve's POV in Chicago in the next part. Thank you again for everyone's nice comments!

~*~*~*~

It was no secret that Dustin was struggling. He tried to remain hopeful and upbeat but his insecurities made maintaining a positive attitude difficult. Why would Steve leave? He had promised that he would always be there for Dustin. But so had his deceased grandparents and his dad that left without so much as a goodbye.

The common denominator had to be Dustin. He knew that he was too sarcastic, too smart to be relatable, and kind of annoying. But he thought Steve understood. He’s always had trouble connecting with people but he thought that Steve was a lifelong friend, an older brother, if you will, that would never drift away. Since the time Steve gave him poor dating advice while looking for Dart, they had been best friends. So why would he leave?

Looking back, he could see why Steve might have underestimated his own importance to the Party. All of its members were a bit emotionally repressed and didn’t know how to talk about their feelings. They all tended to show their love through acts of service or quality time instead of words of affirmation. They did show their love and he thought Steve understood their feelings. But still, if Steve needed verbal validation, he didn’t get any. And Dustin had been a bit too preoccupied talking to Suzie to spend time with him, instead using the excuse of needing a ride to get in his regular amount of ‘Steve-time’. Regardless of his reasons, he felt guilty and useless when it came to searching for the older boy.

It had been a mere two days since they had all found out about Steve’s leave and it was already affecting Dustin. When he wasn’t pretending to be okay, throwing a tantrum, or worrying about Steve’s well-being, he was ignoring the glances cast in his direction by the other Party members. Eddie had given him a ride to Mike’s for DnD and had tried to ask how he was doing. Dustin pretended to not hear the question and thanked him for the ride. Lucas had asked him if Steve had reached out yet. No, why would he? Dustin probably caused him to leave. Max and El asked if he was alright since he was quieter than usual. No, stop talking to him. Mike and Will avoided asking him questions but their concerned gazes were just as annoying. He was fine.

Who cares that his pseudo-older brother left without talking to him just like his deadbeat dad? Not him.

Joyce gave him a ride home from Mike’s when she picked up Will. She assured him that Hopper was doing everything he could to find Steve and that they’d have him home in no time. Dustin couldn’t find it himself to believe her. He just thanked her for the ride and made his way inside. He just wanted a night alone without anyone checking on him or bringing up Steve.

His mom was waiting for him in the kitchen and gave him a gentle smile when he walked in. “How was your game, Dusty?”

Dustin sighed. He wasn't in the mood to talk but his mom wasn’t aware of the situation and she certainly didn’t deserve any of his snark. “Hi mom, it was fun. Will is DM’ing again and Eddie has been giving him pointers. He was ruthless today.”

She hummed and pinched his cheek when she handed him the plate she had saved him from dinner. “Oh goodness, I almost forgot! Your friend Steve called to talk to you. I told him that you were with Mike today. He didn’t leave a message but you might want to call him later, okay Dusty? He sounded a little strange.”

“STEVE CALLED?” Dustin practically screamed as he whipped around in his seat, the bread roll propelling from his hand into a kitchen cabinet.

His mother looked slightly alarmed but also woefully accustomed to his flamboyant antics. “Yes, Dusty. Don’t throw food, what did that dinner roll ever do to you?”

Dustin’s eyes rolled hard. “I’m sorry. You said Steve called? What did he say? Was he okay? Was he in distress?”

“No, he sounded a bit tired but that’s our Steve. He just asked for you and didn’t have a message to leave once I told him you were out. He will probably call back sometime later tonight or tomorrow sometime.”

Dustin felt his eyes fill with tears and his bottom lip started to quiver. Steve had tried to talk to him and he wasn’t there. What if he was hurt or in danger and Dustin was too busy playing make-believe to take his call? He would never forgive himself.

“Dusty? Oh no, honey! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” His mother fretted over him and her concern is what pushed him over the edge.

Dustin burst into big, fat, ugly tears. He sobbed into his mother’s embrace and cried out his feelings of worry, sadness, and angered abandonment. His mom cooed over him and pet her hand through his unstyled curls until he found the strength to speak.

“Mom, Steve left. He just left Hawkins without telling anyone. He’s missing and we don’t know how to find him! And now he called and I wasn’t there! What if he’s hurt and he called me to help him? He left because I was a bad friend and now he’s gone! We can’t even find a way to bring him back.” Dustin wailed through sullied tears.

Claudia whispered words of comfort and encouragement as she held her sad boy in her arms. “Dusty, he sounded fine. I’m sure he was just calling to check in on you and tell you where he is. I don’t know why he would leave so suddenly but I doubt it was because of you, Dusty.”

“No mom, it was me! He’s been distant and sad for weeks and I told the Party to give him space. Me! I said that. I told them to leave him alone and no one checked in on him. I never even told him what he meant to me. What if he never comes back, mom? He’ll never know how much we love him!”

Claudia was confused with this whole situation. She’s known Steve for nearly three years now and has been nothing but impressed by the older boy. He helped her care for her little Dusty while she was at work or her book clubs. Steve didn’t have a selfish bone in his body, always refusing to take her money for babysitting and relinquishing his free time to drive her admittedly needy son around. It doesn’t make any sense for Steve to abandon the kids he helped raise, the kids who counted on him a fair amount, to leave town out of nowhere. The young man that she knew would never knowingly cause such distress in her little Dusty or his friends.

“Dusty, I think Steve is dealing with something beyond you or the rest of your friends. He might need some time to work on it but he will be back and he knows how much he means to you. Just give him time. He called today and the next time he calls, I’ll take a message. Alright? Everything will be fine.”

God, he hoped his mom was right about this. Dustin did feel better at her words but there was still a seed of doubt in his mind. Unfortunately, there was nothing else he could do about the situation until Hopper tracked Steve down or until Steve reached out again. For now, he would wait for his best friend to call again and alert the Party to give them the update. For now, he would have hope.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue

#mike is probably offended when dustin tells him that steve called him but none of the other kids #he starts preaching about favoritism and will has to tell him that now is not the time #poor dustin #steve leaving is probably bringing back a lot of bad feelings for him #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steddie #fanfic #I still hate writing dialogue

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writing-good-vibes · 7 months

Text

you know what they say about dead men

ever wondered why corey has daddy issues? look no further. another instalment of the road trip, at last, just in time for the one year ends anniversary !! divider by @/firefly-graphics

WARNINGS for corey cunningham x michael myers relationship, age difference, smut, unsafe kink practices, alcohol consumption, mentions of daddy issues, and mild mentions of unhappy/unstable childhood, implied child abuse and dysfunctional parental relationships.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !!)

Wally Cunningham is dead; mangled in a motorcycle crash in 1999, leaving behind a wife and son. Corey had carried that with him since he was old enough to ask why he didn't have a daddy like the kids at school did.

Joan chose the details carefully, spinning a cautionary tale about how dangerous the world was, how his daddy wasn't smart enough to keep out of trouble, how it's so much better for Corey to stay at home, safe and sound, with her. To stay at home where she can look after him. And Corey believed her, for a while anyway. Why wouldn't he?

In a dirty dive bar in Florida, Corey is finishing his fourth beer of the night before ordering another one. Michael sits stoically beside him, his gaze focused impossibly on the mirror behind the bar from beneath the trucker hat pulled low over his eyes.

Beneath the sound of shouts and jeers and idle chatter, the AC unit rattles steadily, keeping only some of the balmy heat at bay. Corey sweats, curls sticking at his temples and an itch working it's way down his nape, but he he doesn't take his cord jacket off.

"Hey, Wally," someone shouts. It's not an uncommon name, especially for men of a certain age. There's probably a handful of Walters and Wallaces in this bar alone, right?

Still, Corey glances over his shoulder, taking a long swig from his new beer.

The man who shouted had just arrived, and in the time it took Corey to turn around, he's snaked his way through the throngs of patrons to a table in the corner. He claps an older man heartily on the shoulder as he sits down.

Corey's jaw drops, and he dribbles some of his beer down himself.

The older man -- and he does look old, these days -- is startlingly familiar. Corey would know him anywhere, he's seen him a thousand times over in his dreams. He still has a beard, though it has long since greyed. He's wearing a bandana tied over long, equally grey hair. A motorcycle jacket is slung over the back of his seat. Of course he has a motorcycle jacket.

Corey wipes the beer from his chin and tells himself to stop staring, but he can't help it. Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, besides the ones that live in his head, but there's no other explanation for what he's seeing. No explanation that he's got the guts to take.

Because Wally Cunningham is dead. He was mangled in a motorcycle accident in 1999, leaving behind his wife and son. Corey has carried that with him every day of his life. He dealt with the school yard teasing and pushed the grief of every empty father's day deep down. He managed just fine when he learnt to tie his own tie and how to shave on his own. He managed just fine when Momma married Ronald and they all played happy families for a while until the precarious honeymoon phase passed. Corey has managed just fine.

So why is Wally Cunningham sat in a dive bar in Florida, laughing and joking, like he hasn't been dead for more than 20 fucking years.

For a split second, something like elation passes through Corey. That's his dad. His dad who was an All-American man. Who fought in Vietnam. Who would of taught Corey how to ride a trike, and then a bike, and then maybe even a motorcycle when he got old enough. Who would have played catch with him in the yard and coached him to join the baseball team. Who would have made Momma loosen her grip. "You can't keep your eyes on him every second, Joan. Let the boy live," his dad would have said. His dad who had loved him and it was just a terrible, tragic accident that tore them apart.

But then those familiar, safe daydreams fade, like smoke on the breeze. Like they'd never existed at all. His dad is alive, and he hasn't seen Corey in over 20 fucking years.

Without thinking, Corey gets up, leaving Michael sat on his own at the bar. In his haste, desperate not to lose sight of the old man at the table in the corner, Corey forgets to put his beer down, and his knuckles clench white against the glass.

"Wally Cunningham?" his voice is pitifully hopefully. It feels like a betrayal.

Wally turns away from his friends, a congregation of similarly aged-looking bikers with bandanas and bruised knuckles, and looks up at Corey, scowling. "Who's asking, kid?"

Corey swallows thickly around the growing grief in his throat, "I'm Corey."

Wally raises an eyebrow. For a long, disgusting moment Corey can see that his name doesn't ring a bell. The dots aren't connecting.

Until they do. "Corey? God, haven't you grown." Wally looks him up and down, taking in the sight before him. Corey wasn't vain, especially not now, but he has to resist the urge to shrink under his father's narrowed eyes. His hair is a little shaggy since he hasn't got around to trimming it lately, his thrift-store jeans are forever the wrong size, and his tarnished silver belt buckle glints just barely under the smoke-hazy bar lights.

"Well, it's been 23 years." 23 years of mourning only to find that the coffin was empty all along.

Wally nods in muted agreement. "What are you doing here?"

Wally's reserved reaction feels like the single spark that starts a bonfire, drawing in oxygen while Corey struggles to breath. "I should be asking you that. Momma told me you were dead, she said that you died."

Wally has the guts to chuckle, "She did? That doesn't surprise me, she always was fucking nuts. Well, boy, I'm still kicking"

His friends laugh along, but otherwise stay out of it. When Corey thinks about this conversation later -- and he will be thinking about it later, turning it over and over obsessively until he does something stupid over it -- he'll wonder how many of them knew Wally had a son at all. If he ever mentioned the life he'd left behind in Illinois, or if he wiped the slate clean with each state line he crossed. Just like Corey did nowadays.

Corey shakes his head as he connects his own dots, "You're not dead. You're not -- you've been alive this whole time."

Wally tries to be warm, but it doesn't suit him, "Not the brightest bulb in the box, are we? I guess you must take after me, son."

Corey's deep scowl says otherwise; Wally can see Corey is very much Joan's boy. He always was. "You left us, me and Momma."

"Son, your mother told me to leave, so I did. That marriage was a mistake, it's a good job I left her when I did, or I don't know how it would have ended, but it'd wouldn't have been good, I can tell you that --"

"You left me!" Corey shouts, cringing when his voice breaks. "You didn't just walk out on Momma, you walked out on me, didn't you?" His fingers tighten even more around the beer bottle, just a little tighter and --

Suddenly, Corey feels a presence behind him. He knows it's Michael, knows his outrage must of have stirred him from his thoughts and led him over, eager -- if Michael could ever be described as eager -- to be close by in case Corey makes a scene.

Michael clamps a hand down on his shoulder, pulling him away from Wally by a couple of paces. The friends sat around his table shift uneasily in Michael's hulking, scarred presence, a fact Corey revels in as he leans back into Michael's touch. His fingers loosen on the beer bottle.

There's a tense moment of silence as the reality of this strange situation settles over them all. It reminds him of the tabloid shows Momma used to watch when he was little, the ones she shooed him out of the room for: Long lost son, meet absent father.

Finally, "This a friend of yours?" Wally gestures.

Friend. Corey's lip curls into a smirk, "He's my --"

What exactly is Michael? Boyfriend sounds too juvenile, and lover too tender. Daddy crosses his mind, as a sick little dig, or my old man. He doesn't think any of those would go down too well here, though. Partner is ambiguous, but too formal. Accomplice is fitting, very fitting, but he can't go around saying things like that in public. Cult leader is what it feels like sometimes, but a bit too grandiose for their current predicament.

"Yeah, this is Michael," Corey settles on. The pause he used to gather his thoughts was loud though, and something like doubt crosses Wally's face. But he was never fucking there, so he can go fuck himself if he thinks his opinion matters now. He can think what he likes, for all Corey cares -- and oh god, he cares, he cares so fucking much it makes him sick. Wally's probably right though, in one way or another.

"So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You left Illinois?" Wally tries again.

Illinois is so far behind them in the rear view mirror that it scares him sometimes, but Corey is headed West, and he isn't stopping -- for anything or anyone -- until he reaches the very end of the line. "We're just passing through," Corey shrugs.

They talk for a while, but Corey doesn't sit down at Wally's table. He doesn't accept a drink when someone goes for another round. He sneers instead of laughs when Wally's friends try to crack jokes. He stays stood in front of Michael, leaning just slightly against him when Michael takes his hand off his shoulder. Michael doesn't complain, doesn't move, just listens silently to the faux-casual conversation going on in front of him. Waiting.

Against his already-scarce better judgement, Corey does agree to stay in town for a few days and meet Wally again tomorrow. They have a lot of catching up to do.

Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, but still doesn't shake Wally's hand when he offers it, scared of what it might feel like. So, instead he smirks, a crooked gesture, and turns to leave, taking Michael with him.

The motel room is quiet and dim, the nicotine-stained bedside lamp casting a sickly yellow glow over the pair while the corners of the room stay shrouded in darkness. A safe and secret place to hide away.

Corey talks and talks, half to himself and half to Michael, wanting to purge every little thought in his head until there's nothing left.

"I don't fucking need him, I never needed him! I never needed him. I don't fucking -- oh fuck -- i got by fine, didn't I? That fucking piece of shit, never fucking needed him. I wish he really was dead, dead in the fucking ground. We should -- that's what we should do, I'm gonna -- please -- And who does he think he is? Talking to me like he didn't fucking walk out on me, on his baby. Can you imagine leaving a baby all alone? Leaving me with Momma. And he didn't even care -- he never fucking cared! -- didn't care that she was gonna swallow me whole. And he knew, he fucking knew, how bad M-Momma was and he s-s-still left me. He ne-ever loved me, did he? Because you wouldn't leave someone like that if you loved them. He never... he never... Why didn't he love me?"

Corey's talk turns into tearful babbles even as he keeps rocking his hips down against Michael's upward thrusts, fucking himself past the point of stupid. Rage and grief gnawing such a deep, deep pit in his stomach that he wants it filled immediately. Wants to fill it with the type of pain-pleasure that Michael delivers without even trying. Wants to choke on it, hot and heavy and ruinous.

But who was Corey kidding? The gaping black hole inside him wasn't new, it hadn’t been gouged out by tonight’s revelations. No, no it had been there for as long as he could remember, and it was Wally who had carved it out, taking it with him when he left and leaving Corey wanting.

"Doesn't matter, anyway. I don't care -- I don't -- I don't fucking need anyone. 'Cause I've got you, right? No one ever gave a shit about me, but I'm still here. I - I don't need them. Don't need anyone. I fucking saved myself. No, no, you saved me. And it's just me and you and we're gonna -- it's gonna be -- You'll never leave me, right? Please don't leave me, please don't -- I wanna be with you. I wanna... You wouldn't leave me. No, no, no, not like him, you're not like him -- you're more of a man than he'll ever be, and you're a fucking monster... Oh, god -- FUCK -- Oh, you can keep me forever and ever and ever and --"

Michael pushes him down onto his back. Corey chokes on a gasp as the angle changes and Michael sets a new, more ruthless pace. Ploughing into him -- too hard and too fast and too much -- as Corey's mouth stops working, his grief-stricken rambles melting into moans.

This happens sometimes, Michael losing patience when Corey runs his mouth, but usually Corey has enough sense to know when shut up. Corey's on the edge and he knows that Michael knows that, knows it when a rough, scarred hand closes around his throat, pressing dangerously on either side of his windpipe.

Corey sucks in a breath until he can't anymore.

The motel room is quiet and dark, once Corey reaches over to shut off the lamp.

He's still sniffling quietly, his sweaty skin sticking to Michael's as he arranges the older man's arms around his shoulders. Michael keeps them there limply, silently, as Corey wraps himself around him.

Abandonment feels so much worse than grief ever had. Wally wasn't dead, he just never wanted Corey. Wally wasn't dead, Corey just wasn't good enough.

Corey's fingers clench. There's a knife on the nightstand, and in his duffle, and one tossed onto the floor along with his clothes. His fingers relax. There's a snub-nose .38 revolver in the glove compartment of their truck.

"He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?" Corey mutters, "Just like she did..." He blinks up at Michael through wet lashes.

Michael doesn't say anything.

He agrees, Corey decides, smiling.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x michael myers #cunningmyers #🔪🎃 happy ends anniversary 🎃🔪#a little bit proud of this one ??#i think if he gives himself time to think. corey definitely blames joan heavily for driving wally away #but in the moment he's so full of shock. and his whole world view has been destroyed. that he entirely blames wally #it's a tough one. him missing wally has been an open wound his whole life #everything he does comes back to who he is. and he has always been a little boy who misses his daddy.#(but joan's dead. she got what she deserved. wally on the other hand?)#wally cunningham hate club #joan cunningham hate club #hmmm i write corey as such a blabber mouth on this road trip. despite him being the least talkative guy in the world in canon lol #but michael doesn't talk ever. corey needs to fill the space or he's going to start splitting on michael #and he only really does it when he's upset or particularly pleased. so i still defend my dialogue choices as in character lol

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