Jun 3, 2025
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Quick Guide to Pokopia food flavors!
What if Eddie survived and in the fallout of S4 everything just suddenly clicked for Steve?
***
In the fallout of red skies and ashy air.
In the reminentes of what used to be the Hawkins Public Library; dirt, debris and blood caked to his skin and hair.
In a town where he once felt safe to roam the streets alone and only fear the backward strike of his father's hand in a place he'd hardly wished to call home.
Body sore. Ears ringing. Heart racing.
It's here at this very moment, Eddie to his left with a bloodied spear in his hand and relief on his face, and a wheezing, dying Demodog to his right that just about nearly killed him, that it finally clicks for Steve Harrington.
Clicks. Snaps. Settles into place.
The something that felt different, the something that felt strange.
The something that's been pulling like a snagged hook in his chest, reeling him in with hardly any resistance at all. Water and life rushing by him while he allowed himself to be pulled to shore. Where he'd flail and gasp for air only to find bright light moments later.
A light he hadn't realised he'd been seaking.
It feels like death in a way.
But not the scary sort. Not the painful aching, bleeding out and screaming sort.
It feels like rebirth. A new beginning.
It feels like the person he thought he was has died on the shores. Peacefully, willinging, with water in his lungs and sun on his skin, looking at his newest self with a fading smile that says ‘go forth.’
‘Go forth with your whole self and all of your heart.’
‘Go forth and take his hand and along the way find lo….
“Steve?..”
Eddie's voice is quiet, hesitant. Nervous and shaky where it interrupts Steve's thoughts.
It's confused.
It's…hopeful.
‘...find love.’ The fading light in the eyes of Steve's own self tells him in his mind as he squeezes Eddie's hand tighter.
It must have found its own way there.
‘...find love.’ The version of himself who'd only known love once before whispers as the light in their eyes fade. The version of himself who hardly allowed him to look let alone see the beauty that stood before him as the world crumbled around them.
The version of himself who has died in order to allow his soul to blossom and grow and grasp the hand in his own with a startling amount of strength and pull.
Pull and grasp and take as Eddie's body crashes into his own with a gasp. Sore and tired and bloody like it's been for months.
He'd be scared if it weren't for the glances he's caught and the whispers he's heard. The lingering but yet far too fleeting touches he's craved for reasons unknown until now.
He'd be scared if he hadn't faced so many more terrifying things in his life up until now.
He'd be scared and maybe for a second a fear too flashes like a fleeting wave over Eddie's face, but as quickly as it arrived it's gone and any fear lingering in Steve's bones washes away along with it as Eddie's arm wraps around his waist and between a single glance at chapped lips and a desperate breath of air, their lips meet in a crash.
A crash like a wave to the shores.
A crash like the collapsing of a building in the distance, long awaiting its fall as its walls crumbled beneath its weight.
A crash and a gasp and a moment that feels so startlingly right that Steve pulls Eddie in even tighter, their lips hardly moving with the force of their press and the weight of its meaning.
Right.
So so right.
They eventually part when the crash of falling debris gets closer and the rubble around them begins to shake.
A Demogorgan, the Mind Flayer, the tearing of another entrance to hell.
They don't know.
And for a single second more Steve chooses to not know as he presses his lips to Eddie's once more and for a transient moment the world feels beautiful and whole again.
He'll explain later. Hopefully with Eddie's hand in his own and the darkness of the world sealed behind boarded up windows and spools of barbed wire fences.
Maybe then he can tell Eddie how it all just seemed to click.
When you see a poll, what do you do?
Ignore it
Think about what it's asking and then vote honestly
Vote, even if you have no idea what's being asked/what the poll is referencing
@niightwcves
he needs his husband. so much that he's going to just lay his head in his lap. is paulie busy? does kaku care? no. he just wants to be close to him right now.
another day, another disaster. cherry wouldn't consider herself a regular at this club in particular, but the scene was her natural habitat—historically, at least. it was difficult to remember the last time she was able to let her hair down and allow the music to pulse through her, but tonight wouldn't be a reunion between her and the vibe. as tempting as it all was, she had a mission to complete.
she'd been tracking down a certain boto cor-de-rosa for a week. he wasn't the greatest threat to humanity she'd ever faced, just a significant annoyance. every night, another woman seduced. every morning, another pregnancy and no man to be found. unchecked, there was no telling how long he'd be able to stay in the area before anyone caught on.
she didn't intend to slay or even harm the boto. all she had to do was put the fear in him, let any threat and its implications speak for themselves. crowded as the venues were, it helped that he dressed all in white. that significantly narrowed down her suspects. what she didn't need were obnoxious pricks riding her tail.
sometimes, under very certain circumstances, a teasing rejection could mean, "try a little harder." usually, "no" simply meant no. the stupider the clinger, the harder to shake off. cherry felt guilty pulling a stranger into her strange charade, but he had an imposing enough stature—the kind of striking features that would intimidate when her own failed. it helped that he was a little cute, in that scrappy stray kind of way. she'd picked worse.
when he joined her pantomime, relief flooded. he did just enough to play along without making it weird. she appreciated it more than she could convey. "took you long enough, babe," she cheered, perhaps slightly louder than necessary. her arms rested on his shoulders to keep him close. after pausing a moment, she lowered her voice, enunciated as clearly as she could, and hoped he could read lips. "the pentelho cut his losses yet?"
for @wscldier, continued from here
Me: oh shit I accidentally posted my chapter a day early, what will I do now?
Also me: how about showing roughly how many chapters are written?
Please note, Book Fire starts at number 69. I am not finished. I just needed to make note of it and feel like I'm talking to someone even if it's also like talking into the void.
So this project will last a while, if you will read it I hope you enjoy it.
Link to Book Water on ao3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62541460/chapters/160072717