#eli writes

[snapesuntouchedshampoo]

you can always reconsider

| in which steve "the hair" harrington finds he can't leave you alone... even though you're sworn enemies.

“baby, come on, it’s storming!"

“since when did you care about me?” you snapped hugging yourself tightly as the wind became violent, your hair making a desperate effort to cling to your face.

“could you just get in the car?” steve shouted. his beamer had been rolling slowly beside you for nearly five blocks now. 

“why don’t you bother someone else?” you huffed, wrapping your sopping jacket tighter around your stomach. however, after another defiant step forward, a branch came crashing down on the sidewalk just in front of your feet. its splintered end still sizzling despite the rain.

steve's car came to a stop in time with your steps. "you can always reconsider," he called, a terrible grin plastered across his pale face. it really should be some sort of crime to be such an asshole. seriously, people so horrible shouldn't exist with no consequence.

“where’s nance?” you screamed back, stepping over the branch as if nothing had happened. “why don’t you go piss her off instead of me?” in your defense, steve harrington had no reason to be so insistent. it was no wonder nancy dumped his sorry ass. he was so annoying.

and bossy. 

just as you reached the end of the sidewalk steve expertly pulled his maroon bmw around the corner, blocking your path completely. "just get in the damn car and i promise i'll never bother your pretty little face ever again." 

he flashed you another blinding smile and patted the cushion of the empty passenger seat next to him. 

you paused, appearing to consider it for a moment, before leaning down to look in through the open window. his dark eyes sparkled and a strand of his horribly perfect hair fell in front of them. he held your gaze and it suddenly felt as though he was daring you to look away. though you wouldn't fall for his tricks. 

“you know, no means no,” you whispered before walking around the front of the car and flipping him off.

his scoff carried over the storm and he quickly reversed and continued following you down elm street. 

“you and i both know you aren’t going to walk all the way home by yourself,” he yelled. 

the sky crackled above and somehow even more rain pummeled the ground. it was getting difficult to see and you still had to cross cornwallis and pass through the woods. worst of all, your dad would kill you if you missed curfew again.

somehow, steve noticed the flicker of contemplation on your face and he stopped driving beside you. "i'll be here when you decide to stop being an idiot!"

you didn't make it very far after that. only until the end of that next block because he was right. the dumbest guy at hawkins high was actually right. you weren't going to walk all the way home by yourself. at least, not if you wanted to see the light of day. you paused, glancing back at the car all the way down the road. it's headlights were off as though it were ready to wait forever.

you were never gonna live this down.

the rain only seemed to come down harder as you trudged back toward steve's car. even from outside you could see the shit-eating grin on his face. and every muscle in your body protested as you pulled open the passenger door and slid onto the leather seat.

surprisingly, steve didn't say anything. instead, he turned on the headlights and shifted the car into drive.

“this doesn’t mean i like you,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i never liked you,” he replied, not even bothering to look at you as his arm reached behind your seat, "and for the love of god, don't drench my seats."

he threw a towel at you then.

this entire situation was ridiculous. you were in steve "the hair" harrington's car and you weren't even coerced into it. you had turned around by your own free will. seriously, how in hell were you supposed to justify this? let alone explain it.

“if you tell anyone about this harrington, i'll strangle you with my bare hands."

 “likewise."

"i can't have anyone associating me with..."

"you really think i want tommy and carol to know i was hanging with you?"

"good. so no one will know about this."

"not unless you tell the world."

"in your dreams."

"you are in my dreams. actually you're very annoying in them... oh wait..." steve paused, and flicked on the radio. "that's real life."  

you sneered and turned away, leaning your wet head against the leather just to spite him. maybe you wouldn't have to speak to him again if you just focused on which raindrop would reach the bottom of the window first. however, that became boring rather quickly. goosebumps had somehow crawled all the way up your legs under the sopping fabric of your jeans. growing comfortable, you didn't even think twice as you turned up the heat and stuck your hands in front of the vents. 

though you didn't miss the way steve snorted at your actions and slowly angled his vents your way.

“left or right?” he asked, so softly you had almost missed it. 

“uh, left."

it wasn't long before steve harrington's bmw turned onto pine street. your street.

“i’ll get out here,” you said abruptly, reaching for the handle. 

“i could drive you to the door-“

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” you interrupted quickly, pushing the door open before the car even rolled to a stop. "nicole lives next door and you already know how she is. it’ll only be a matter of minutes before our little arrangement turns into a town affair."

the smirk that spread across his face was deadly. "we have an arrangement?"

"shut up," you rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car, slamming the door and walking around to the driver's side where steve's window was already rolled down. "tomorrow war resumes, you’ve been warned.” 

“you're scaring me now."

"goodnight, harrington."

[eggseabutters]

My HC is that mobians don’t usually “kiss” they show their affection through nuzzling and grooming, but Shadow who was raised by humans is more used to the concept of kissing so when his partner expected nuzzling, Shadow kissed them. They were very surprised.

[cureforthedolls]

prompted to write something after seeing finn bennett's 5 mins of screentime in warfare

[johnconstantinesdick]

I get the criticism of the Hunters of Artemis from a narrative perspective—it sucks that it essentially boots interesting female characters out of the story—but it always baffles me when people viciously hate Artemis for *checks notes* doing damage control.

Like. Thalia explicitly goes with Artemis to avoid the prophecy, and I definitely think that’s the reason Artemis tried so hard to get her to join—hell, you can view the hunters trying to recruit Annabeth as a way to get Thalia to join. And Bianca? You can’t convince me that Artemis didn’t guess there was something up there and react accordingly.

If Percy or Nico were even a little bit girl-adjacent you bet your ass she would be all over them to join. No one actually wants to risk the Great Prophecy happening, and Artemis is doing a hell of a lot more to stop it than anyone else.

[who-needs-words]

If anyone is a craving a project Hail Mary/the Martian crossover where the Martian happens first but it’s actually about Grace being a teacher: I wrote the fic for you.

A Higher Goal Was Calling

Summary:

The first year Ryland Grace is teaching at Grover Cleveland Middle, NASA strands (and rescues but that part comes later) an astronaut on Mars.

It's not as dramatic as it sounds, at least not for Grace. He’s busy trying figuring out this whole 'teacher' thing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/85116021

[lucy-frostblade]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Buck was tired of hospitals. He would love more than anything to never go into a single one for the next year at least. (He’s being realistic, at this point every doctor they visit seems to be aware of who they are.)

or the time in between finding eddie and him waking up

@blueskiesandstarrynights @wheelsupin-azarathmetrionzinthos @buddiextarlos

[xelinielx]

I have this friend I talk to like ONCE a year and it’s just us fighting to be the first to send this stupid silly Homestuck copypasta to each other. We have done this for multiple years now. I’m on a win streak

[ramuqrr]

roman bridger. a horrid, rotten, corrupt, abandoned man; at least that’s what the world would call him. a ghost of a person, drifting at the edges of other people’s lives, never invited into the light. rejected so thoroughly it was as if he had never been born at all. no welcoming arms. no proud smiles. no soft voices telling him he mattered.

he had been cast aside before he ever had the chance to stand.

all he ever wanted was a place in the story. his story. a chance to prove he existed. a chance to create something that would make the world turn its head and finally see him. his movie. his masterpiece. his proof that he was more than a mistake someone tried to forget.

and then… sidney prescott.

the moment the spotlight finally found him, she stepped into frame and tore it away. she had to ruin it. had to stab him. had to make it clear who the real survivor was. who the world would choose. her blade sank in, and with it went the fragile illusion he’d spent his entire life building. control shattered. power drained. the grand finale he’d imagined for himself dissolved into blood and cold tile.

bit in those final seconds, something happened that hurt worse than the knife.

her hand wrapped around his.

not to strike. not to shove him away. just to hold.

for a flicker of a moment, it felt real. warm. steady. human.

the thought of family — actual family — burned through him like fever. someone sharing his blood. someone who could have known him. someone who might have, in another life, stood beside him instead of across from him. to have her fingers lace with his. to feel one last squeeze. to see something in her eyes that almost looked like care.

it was crueler than any wound.

he didn’t deserve it. he knew that. he had slaughtered innocence without blinking. he had destroyed lives that were unfolding in their own bright, oblivious scripts. people who thought they were living ordinary days in their own perfect movie scenes, until he rewrote them in red.

he had become the monster the world already believed him to be.

and yet, in those few fragile seconds, he clung to that touch like it was salvation. like a starved animal trembling at the edge of a doorway, terrified it would be kicked away again. like a child who had waited his whole life for someone to reach back when he reached out.

he didn’t let go.

because that brief warmth — that unbearable, undeserved warmth — was the only thing that had ever felt like home.

and then it was gone.