summersquall
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It’s winter in Hawkins, and Mike and Will aren’t speaking anymore. Living in Mike’s house, Will tries to be invisible, spending most of his time in the basement.
Then the power goes out — and if there’s one thing he dreads more than facing Mike, it’s the cold.
or
Seven nights in which Mike and Will have to sleep in the same bed, even though they’re barely friends anymore.
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- English
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Bookmarked by summersquall
29 Dec 2025
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Puff pastry apple danish with a flaky, crispy crust by winterjan
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP
14 Jul 2025
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Etho’s got his jacket off, this time—even an apron knotted messily around his waist. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his biceps flex with every roll of the pin over the pastry.
Arms, Bdubs thinks. And then thinks, even less coherently, yeah, ARMS.
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Etho gets a new hobby. Bdubs gets perks. They keep kissing—but that, really, could mean anything.
Bookmarked by summersquall
27 Dec 2025
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- Words:
- 5,069
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 36
Bookmarked by summersquall
20 Nov 2025
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The guy laughs—a warm, low sound, caramel-sweet. “You really don’t remember anything?”
“Not a blip,” Bdubs says. “Wait, I didn’t get your name. What’s your name?”
There’s a second when Bdubs thinks he won’t answer—he just looks at Bdubs, and his eyes go strangely crinkley around the corners. Then, he says, “Etho. I’m Etho, Bdubs.”
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Bdubs has amnesia. But that's not going to stop him coming to some extremely rational conclusions about the state of his own heart.
Bookmarked by summersquall
18 Nov 2025
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“Dr. Benton!” Carter crows. “Surgical consult needed in Trauma One. Stat.”
Benton cracks his eyes open. Now, he’s not an expert, but he’s pretty sure he fell asleep in his own apartment, and has spent the last fifteen minutes settling into a nice REM sleep. When he looks around, he confirms the diagnosis: these are his walls, his well-worn furniture, and the Bulls game playing on silent on the TV.
A new addition to his usually-quiet abode: Carter peeking out from the hallway, out of breath, like he’s just burst into the on-call room. But this time, a weirdly red tinge to his face.
“Carter,” Benton yawns, “what are you…”
Carter just points to the bedroom. “Trauma One,” he repeats. “An emergency.” And then he waggles his eyebrows, for good measure. Twice.
Bookmarked by summersquall
27 Oct 2025