#VERY stupid fic

[archie-sunshine]

Survey Says-!(Rodimus/EVERYONE)

Chapter 2: Feel The Beat(Rodimus/Blaster)

Rodimus is NOT bitter about the results of the crew satisfaction survey, in fact, he’s fully prepared to change! He’s determined to change his crew’s minds, and what better way to do so than to get to know them- in the carnal sense that is. 

There are no problems with this plan in Rodimus’s mind. There are many in Ultra Magnus’s. Magnus engages in some unfortunate(for Rodimus) damage control as head of Cybertronian Resources. Rodimus is not easily deterred. 

Chapter 1 Here! Read on AO3 here!

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FIC TAGS: Rodimus/Everyone(But y’know, not like. EVERYONE. Just a lot of various background characters and also more specifically with some others), Takes place post dark cybertron, but pre the whole ship disappearing thing and the mutiny, smut, Chastity, denial, Rodimus is a slut, Ongoing humiliation, HR Violations as comedy, Ultra Magnus is clueless, sticky sexual interfacing, comedy, sexual comedy, dubious consent (if you squint and tilt your head), contains illustrations

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Authors notes: I didnt know blaster very well before writing this, i watched some of the old g1 cartoon funnily enough, and it turns out blaster is a cutie pie and i love him actually?? beautiful boombox boy

CHAPTER TAGS: Rodimus/Blaster(implied rodimus/huffer, crosscut, kindle, siren, and rad), oral, blowjobs, sexual frustration, blaster's servos can vibrate, the most painful nut ever, rodimus continues to make bad decisions

Ultra Magnus’s little magnetizer trick had been dirty, underhanded, cruel, unusual, and downright sadistic(from a certain point of view). But it was also stupid, considering that as long as Rodimus still had one hole, by primus he was gonna use it. 

The only thing this horrible device had managed to do was shorten his one on ones. He was still going to give his beloved crew the helm of a lifetime, but without having to worry about chasing his own edge, it meant Rodimus was more inclined to get things done quicker. He had managed to check Siren, Huffer, Crosscut, Kindle, and Rad off his list in the two cycles following the incident, however there were some… adverse effects that these meetings were having on him. 

It was hard not to get at least a little bit excited when giving helm, and that became an issue in and of itself, as Rodimus’s array had started complaining more and more as he continued to deny its release. 

Rodimus stalked down the ship's hallway, faceplate set in a frustrated scowl as he made his way back towards his office. He felt like he was walking with a limp, which would have been fun and sexy if he was limping because he’d been spiked silly, but instead was infuriating… because he was limping from having to walk with a stupid fragging magnetizer attached to his overheated panels. 

The captain absently swiped at his intake, making sure there were no traces of transfluid still there from his ‘meeting’ with Rad. He was a bit shy, considering the captain’s ongoing predicament, but still managed to get a good overload in from the deal. It was getting harder for Rodimus to focus when he was giving out his one on ones, it felt like every encounter added new, angrier popups in his processor screeching for him to overload. His helm was swimming by the time he’d felt Rad finish, and it had taken the bot grabbing him by his finials and dragging him off to bring him back to reality. 

So there he was, pouting his way to his office, manually dismissing every one of the popups in his processor to clear his mind so he could think again. He entered the access code, cursing as he flubbed the code the first time and stormed in, letting the door close behind him. He flopped into his chair with an exhausted groan. He eyed the stack of datapads on his desk that he had been instructed to fill out and sign. They were supply manifests… he thought. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to what Ultra Magnus was saying that morning as he’d been considering the unpleasant flavour the aftertaste of transfluid in his mouth made when mixed with his morning energon. Gross. Rodimus chuckled to himself at the thought. Primus, that was fragging disgusting, he was fragging disgusting. He smirked to himself. 

He reached across the desk and tapped at the first datapad, propping his legs up as he began the daily slog through datawork. He let his optics go into skimming mode as he scrolled halfheartedly through the document. He had gathered it was some list of acquisition requests that the crew members had personally made, so he began signing off his approval.

A new shipment of high quality engex for swerve’s… approved

A bulk order of plating patches for the medibay… approved

A set of high quality wrenches for Brainstorm’s laboratory… approved

Rodimus shifted around a bit in his chair. 

A blank datapad shipment… approved

Replacement parts for the staff room vending machine that Megatron had accidentally broken… approved

It was impossible to get comfortable, he felt overheated without even being particularly aroused.

A palette of hover scooters… denied

Rodimus froze. He set the datapad down and glanced between his thighs. His faceplate flared hot with embarrassment. He was fragging leaking. 

It was a miracle that he hadn’t started doing so before he made it to his office, but all the same, around the edges of his panels he could see prefluid seeping out, making the tiniest little puddle on his chair. Rodimus let out a long, frustrated groan, letting his helm thunk against the back of his chair. This was humiliating. He reached for one of his drawers and plucked out a rag, quickly swiping at his panels and the seat before stuffing it under himself and getting back to work. 

Ping! Another popup at the front of his mind ‘Open Interface Array?’ 

He closed the popup. It wasn’t his fault he was in this mess! He was just trying to show a little gratitude for his crew! Some.. sloppy, sticky gratitude, but gratitude nonetheless. Interface was different now, it was purely a means to making his apologetic feelings known, letting people know he really could change. He’d do anything his crew wanted for their approval. 

He swallowed thickly. Anything they wanted… He recalled the servos gripping at his helm, the weight of a spike in his intake or the smooth mesh of a valve under his glossa. Oral was easy, Rodimus had plenty of time to practice in the washracks and supply closets of various barracks during the war. But this fuzzy, syrupy slowness that accompanied the denial of his own overload was something… new. 

He felt his fans starting to kick on. He willed them up higher, trying to blow off as much of the excess heat as he could. He refocused on the requests on his datapad. 

A new set of parts for one of the busted replicators… approved

A bulk order of glassware for the canteen… approved

… the rag was getting soaked. 

Rodimus slammed down his datapad and stood up. He quickly scanned through his itinerary for the day, confirming he had an hour and a half free before his meeting with the comms officer, before wiping up any visible prefluid around his panels and beginning to speedwalk towards the medibay. 

*

“What do you MEAN you can’t do it!!?” Rodimus shouted. He sat up a bit from the slab, only to get a firm servo on his chassis pushing him back down. “You’re Ratchet!”

“I didn’t say can’t, I said won’t, Rodimus.” Ratchet sighed out in exasperation. 

“B-but it huuuuurts, I’m dying here, I can feel my spark about to go out!!” Rodimus whined, rolling his helm back. 

“I know thats a lie, Rodimus, any discomfort you’re feeling is perfectly normal with a device like this, and I’ve received direct orders not to take it off without dire circumstances or reasons to do so.” Ratchet sounded like he was reciting something, it was likely that he was, considering who was the mastermind behind this whole wicked scheme. 

“Direct orders that I as captain-” Rodimus began.

“Co-Captain.” 

“WHATEVER! I outrank Ultra Magnus, I should be able to make those orders completely moot, right!?” Rodimus stared pleadingly at Ratchet, searching for some ounce of sympathy in his field.

Ratchet bit back a smug grin. “Not in cases surrounding Cybertronian Resourses violations. I’m afraid you’re stuck with that until Magnus decides otherwise.” 

Rodimus let out a pitiful moan, going limp against the slab. “I’m gonna die…” He whimpered.

“You know, as your doctor I would suggest that you find other outlets for mitigating this sexual frustration. Try to focus on your work, get a hobby, something to take your mind off interfacing until you get the clamp off you.” Ratchet began, carefully reaching down to swipe away the excess prefluid that had gathered around Rodimus’s panels during their appointment. Rodimus bit back a desperate moan. “But as someone who knows you, I understand that’s not exactly something you’re going to be able to stop yourself from doing. So I’ll prescribe you some coolant accelerators and hope for the best.” The medic offered an insincere, borderline malicious smile and helped Rodimus off of the slab. 

Rodimus glared daggers at Ratchet, clenching his servos. He let his processor wander, wondering if he could convince First Aid to help him out. 

“And I wouldn’t get any ideas about begging for help from the crew.” Ratchet had turned away, now gazing at a datapad and beginning to flick through it. “Ultra Magnus sent out a memo to the crew’s comms to let them know any interference with your ‘reeducation’ would be considered grounds for a week in the brig.”

Rodimus growled again. “... thanks doc, always a pleasure…” 

*

“So, just to be clear, theres nothing at all?” Rodimus asked, leaning helm on his servo. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothin’ at all, but radio signals have gotten sparse now that we’re back on our way, no urgent notices from Cybertron, some minor radio chatter from ships we’ve passed, but nothing terribly concerning.” Blaster explained, turning his datapad to indicate the waves coming in. 

Rodimus nodded inquisitively, shifting again in his seat. “Cool, thats good news, thanks Blaster.” Rodimus said. 

“... Yeah…” Blaster said slowly, looking the captain up and down for a moment. Rodimus squeezed his crossed legs a bit. “Listen, cap, I gotta say, uh… I heard about the whole… Ultra Magnus… CR violations… thing.” He said awkwardly, glancing away. 

“...Yeah. It’s not a big deal, I gotta learn to be professional.” Rodimus gritted out, failing to hide his adverse feelings on the whole matter. He was fighting to keep his field to himself, but it was clear that Blaster was seeing through it. 

“I did also hear about your… one on ones.” Blaster lowered his voice, putting the datapad away in his subspace. 

Rodimus perked up. “Yeah?”

“Well- Yeah, obviously, Roddy, you sent a comm to the whole crew about it.” Blaster chuckled. 

“The whole crew- except for Megatron and Ultra Magnus.” Rodimus corrected. 

“Yeah, listen man… I dunno if I agree with the whole thing Mags cooked up, I dunno if its the best like… plan? On your part, to go around slingin your array at whoever’ll take it…” Blaster glanced around bashfully. 

Rodimus frowned. “Where are you going with this?” 

“I mean you gotta know that actions speak louder than words, you gotta show the crew that you’re on their side, that you do stuff for their benefit, all that stuff- but!” Blaster kicked one of his pedes a bit. “Y’know, I wouldn’t say no to ah… what was it you called it? An ‘apology’?” 

Rodimus perked up again, slowly standing up from his chair. “Oh yeah?” Rodimus remembered the rag he’d stuffed on the seat and quickly snatched it up, covertly tossing it into one of his drawers while Blaster wasn’t looking. “Sure, I’d be happy to- Wait- You gotta promise me this isn’t a test or anything, like- Mags didn’t put you up to this did he?” 

Blaster shook his helm, expression melting into an easy-if slightly relieved- smile. “Nah- I figured you’d still be at this whole thing… heard some intel from some other bots… wanted to see if you’re all you’re cracked up to be.” 

Rodimus quickly denied his fans request to turn on, clearing his vocalizer. “Well, I guess I got time between my meetings… Have a seat.” He said, gesturing to his desk chair. 

Rodimus eagerly rushed to the office door, punching in the locking code as Blaster sat down. A lance of embarrassment struck through him as Blaster made a surprised noise. 

“Primus, Rod, you uh- heh- you a little worked up there?” His Comms officer chuckled. “Your seat’s a bit sticky-”

“ITS NOTHING!” Rodimus bleated out, face flaring as he trotted over and knelt down between Blaster’s thighs. “Just- just coolant, nothing else.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Blaster smirked, rubbing a servo over his own panels. “You’re sure you’re up to this, pal?” 

“‘Course I am, c’mon, we both got places to be.” Rodimus hissed impatiently. 

Blaster shrugged, exhaling a little chuckle before letting his panels open. Rodimus let out a relieved sigh at the sight of it, running a digit gently around the edge of his slowly pressurizing spike. It was that sleek, warm grey colour along the underside, red on the top all the way up to a yellow tip, with little triangular yellow biolights along the underside. Rodimus licked his dermas, letting his optics dim a bit. He almost went for it, before remembering what all these apologies were about. 

“So, Blaster, how do you want me?” Rodimus asked pleasantly, fighting to keep his voice from sounding too desperate. His optics flickered a bit when Blaster’s servo came around to rest gently on the side of his helm. 

“I’d love to get my spike in that mouth and see you work your magic, Cap…” Blaster breathed, letting his digits trace the edge of Rodimus’s lower finials. Rodimus’s fans kicked on without thinking. 

“A-” Rodimus cleared his vocalizer. “Alright, heard and listened to!” Rodimus said, allowing himself a pang of pride at his line usage when Blaster’s vents stuttered. He opened his intake, lolling his glossa out to lave over the tip of Blaster’s spike. Offlining his optics, he wrapped his dermas around the shaft, slowly bobbing his helm downwards towards the base. He laved his glossa slowly over the ridges and edges of Blaster’s biolights, allowing himself a moment to feel at the smooth texture of them. Rodimus hummed quietly as he worked, taking the spike two thirds down before leaning his helm back and drawing it slowly up to the tip.

Blaster let out a low, pleased moan, his thumb rubbing fondly at the side of Rodimus’s helm. “Ahhh, thats it… hah, you must be pretty glad you got sparked with an intake like this, huh?” 

Rodimus hummed lightly in confirmation, peeking up at Blaster coquettishly as he rubbed the tip of his glossa over the comms officer’s spikehead. A shudder wracked through Rodimus’s frame as the other mech moaned, low and deep in his chassis. He felt a lick of Blaster’s charge ground through him and tightened his grip on Blaster’s thighs. He started pumping his helm up and down, darting his glossa out against the underside of his spike and swallowing the growing flow of prefluid where it pooled at the back of his intake. Rodimus brought one of his servos up, wrapping around the base gently as he massaged the soft protoform there. 

Suddenly, Blaster’s grip on his helm shifted, now grasping the back of his helm and dragging him down further. Rodimus felt his optics glitch and reset, his gaze flicking up to the larger bot’s face. There was hunger in Blaster’s optics, deep and carnal, held back by a thin, fraying thread of propriety. 

Rodimus’s processor produced several popups at once, warning him of an obtrusion squeezing down his throat, demanding he open his panels, informing him his fans were working hard to stave off overheat. Rodimus gagged, feeling his optics glitch again, bits of charge fritzing over the bridge of his nose between them. He fought back as much control as he could, beginning to close out the popups. He was swiftly interrupted when Blaster’s spikehead slid readily back into his throat and his nose brushed against his panels. Rodimus let out a muffled whine. 

“Ah.. attabot, frag…” Blaster licked his dermas, a curl of steam escaping his lustful smile. “You take it so well, cap…” 

Rodimus’s processor screamed, overfilling with warnings and demands. That ounce of praise rocked him to his core, drawing a pitiful, staticky whimper from his vocalizer. He dragged his glossa frantically against whatever part of his spike he could reach. A bubble of intake lubricant dribbled down his jaw. He could feel his frame shivering with charge. What was happening to him? Giving helm had never had him this worked up before. 

Rodimus swallowed and began to move his helm again, relishing the slippery, undignified noises that filled the room. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks against Blaster’s shaft and earning another punched out groan. He could feel him start to twitch in his intake and moaned in anticipation. Blaster’s other servo reached down, curling around one of his finials as his hips began to stutter. 

“Ah- Primus- frag-! Roddy-” He gasped, his fans roaring. Rodimus strained to pull his helm back, focusing all his attention on Blaster’s tip. With a glitchy, choked out groan, Rodimus felt transfluid hitting the roof of his intake. He greedily swallowed down what he could, gasping in surprise as it escaped his dermas. Rodimus felt as though he was about to overheat watching Blaster stroke his spike, splatters of his transfluid hitting his helm and faceplate. 

Rodimus panted, fighting to close out the dozens of popups clouding his processor. He laid his messy helm against Blaster’s thigh, trying to get his vents under control. He could already feel his panels were overheated and embarrassingly sticky with excess prefluid. He absently pawed at the plating there, drawing his servo back with a pained hiss. 

“... Whoooooh….” Blaster breathed, clearing his vocalizer and sitting up a bit. “That was quite the show, captain, thanks..” He chuckled. “Oh- uh… sorry for- er..” He gestured generally at his face. 

“‘S fine… h..how would you rate uh… your…” Rodimus mumbled blearily. He noted Blaster was rummaging around his desk, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He offlined his optics and relished the feeling of a cool rag swiping the transfluid off his face and finials. 

“It was great, Roddy, thanks for helpin me blow off some steam.” Blaster murmured. Rodimus could feel the warmth in his voice and swelled with unfocused pride. He drank in the relaxation and fondness in Blaster’s field, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

“Happy to help…” Rodimus wheezed hoarsely. He shakily got up off the ground, wincing as a thick drizzle of prefluid dripped from his panels. When he onlined his optics again, he was greeted with Blaster’s pitying look, optics focused between the captain’s legs. “D-don’t worry about me!” Rodimus said, attempting a confident and chipper tone, but unable to force the strain completely from his voice. “This was all for you, Blaster, see, I’m all about listening to my crew and rewarding their efforts.” 

Blaster chuckled. “Yeah, thanks cap.” He slowly rose from Rodimus’s seat, closing his panels up. “Just hate to leave a bot hanging, is all.” 

Please don’t leave me like this. Rodimus thought. Please don’t let me die of overheating.

“Nah- Not much either of us can do about it anyhow.” Rodimus waved a dismissive servo. 

“On the contrary, actually… at least- I think?” Blaster offered. “I dunno about getting that thing off you, but I bet I could get you an overload at least?”

Rodimus’s intake felt dry. “... huh?”

Blaster smirked, sitting back down in the chair. He patted his lap. “C’mere.”

Rodimus shifted uncomfortably, climbing backwards into Blaster’s lap and leaning against the other bot’s chassis. He shivered at Blaster’s servos on him, one wrapping around his slender waist to hold him in place while the other delicately hovered over his panels. 

“Might be a bit intense, okay? Just hold on and let me know if you want me to stop.” Blaster warned, finally bringing his digits down to hold Rodimus’s overheated panels. 

“J-just do it, please-!” Rodimus gritted out through a whine. 

Rodimus’s optics fritzed and rebooted at the first sensations of vibration on his panels. He let out a loud, surprised moan, half cutting out with static as the oversensitive protoform below his panels seared with pleasure. The vibration was intense, just dancing on the line of painful and pleasurable, heady and bassy and rocking him to his very core. 

“Feel good, cap?” Blaster asked.

“Aa-auhuh!!” Rodimus answered intelligently, bucking his hips against Blaster’s hand. His vocalizer felt raw, his voice breaking and cracking as he moaned out. 

“Keep it down- someone’s gonna hear!” Blaster hissed, upping the vibration as he did and forcing another desperate cry from Rodimus’s vocalizer. Rodimus’s optics glitched and flared as Blaster clamped a servo over his intake, silencing him only partly as he writhed and bucked in his lap.

It was starting to hurt now, his processor more full and garbled than ever as his array pulsed and throbbed in need. His optics flickered. Drool bubbled between Blaster’s digits. He could feel every bit of his plating searing against Blaster’s. 

Rodimus let out a pitiful, needy sob as the other mech’s servo squeezed his panels down tighter against his array. He was practically humping Blaster’s servo at this point, chasing that painful, burning edge as he dumbly whined into his digits. 

(go to my AO3 for the illustrated version)

Blaster kicked the vibrations up one more notch and Rodimus saw white. He was dying, he was crashing, he was overloading- Rodimus’s frame arched back, strung taught as a bowstring as transfluid poured from the seams in his panels messily over the magnetizer and Blaster’s digits. He shuddered and bucked and twitched as Blaster drew his servo back, curling back over on himself and grabbing the edge of his desk. Blaster carefully released his faceplate, a string of drool sloppily escaping his dermas as he let out one final, broken moan. 

Rodimus curled his hips forwards, drawing the desk chair in against the desk so he could rest his helm against it. His array ached, now sloppy and coated with his own transfluid beneath his panels. He could feel himself leaking copiously onto his chair, embarrassment pooling in his tanks as he heard it dribble off the edge of the seat and onto the floor. 

“Th… thanks Blaster…” Rodimus mumbled brokenly. 

Blaster patted his aft gently, carefully lifting the captain up enough to slip out from under him. “No worries, captain.” Rodimus felt a half wet rag hit his panels and hissed in discomfort. He let out a stringy whine as Blaster cleaned him and the seat up, leaving the rag on the arm of his chair. 

Rodimus lifted his helm up, watching Blaster unlock the door. “Keep up the good work!” He called after him, earning a laugh as Blaster walked off down the hallway. 

Rodimus sat back, examining the state of himself. That was truly the most painful overload he had ever had.

…

He didn’t like how good that notion felt in his processor. 

He didn’t like how good the overload had felt either.

“... This had better not awaken anything in me.” Rodimus muttered, before shakily reaching for another datapad to work on.

#transformers #my art #my fic #maccadam #transformers mtmte #rodimus #blaster #ratchet #valveplug #/nsfw #blaster/rodimus #VERY stupid fic #i love writing fics that are dumb #smut

[hippielittlemetalhead]

So... I lied about getting a full fix-it to This → Part 1. Y'all get parts focusing on different characters for now as Hop traverses his guilt trip. I won't say it gets worse before it gets better but... kinda in places? I promise it's a happy ending though!!

What do you want from me I'm stressed and depressed and I like making my blorbos suffer (a.k.a projecting my trauma instead of doing the healthy shit my shrink tells me to)

You've been warned... But I do hope you like it.

So here we have Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)

He goes to Joyce about it first. Thinks about her gentle herding of the trio that has become the Hopper-Byers brood. Thinks about how she put everything he was feeling about Mike and El and their giggling and the fucking door into words that kept him from looking like an imbecile (if he'd have ever used them instead of fucking it up 'winging it'). Thinks about the way her voice stays soft and kind of quiet even when she's spitting in his face about listening to her (and every time she's been right) and how that's translated to talking down government goons and wrangling the army of children that seems to get bigger each time they have to fight interdimensional terrors. So he goes to Joyce about what Murray said, the noise Steve made with That Look in his eyes and his bandages peeking out from under a shirt that looks like one of the Henleys he's been missing since coming 'back from the dead' and they dug out his clothes from storage. (El wouldn't let her throw anything out, not until she was ready to say goodbye. Thank whatever god[s] there may be she never needed to)

He doesn't expect Joyce to make a face like he suggested inviting Owens to family dinner. He doesn't expect the scoff and eye roll as her shoulders tense and her hands flex at her sides like she's about to let loose her (honestly really attractive) righteous fury. About the Harrington kid.

Maybe he should have asked when the kids weren't home. Before El quietly told them the bullying wasn't as bad as it was in California but some people still made fun of how she spoke and how all of her friends were boys (and just as quietly asked they not do anything. Asked that they let her and The Party handle it until they couldn't). Before Will came home sulking about something idiotic Mike said or did or something the kid missed (though lately the latest Wheeler mistake is followed by bashful mention of the Emerson kid doing something specifically to make Will feel better in the moment). Before Jonathan came home from 'job hunting' or 'volunteering at the school's relief center' reeking of weed and his long-haired friend in tow (less than usual but still enough to make Joyce feel guilty for missing it for so long, for making the boy grow up so fast that he spends his days out of his mind instead of the weekend bender like when they were kids). Before The Party had come by with what homework the school was still giving out and talking over each other about all the latest small-town gossip a teenager can get their hands on (Eddie's name has been cleared but he's still laid up at the hospital. Susan Mayfield has been noticeably absent according to every nosy housewife in Hawkins considering her daughter is in a coma. The Hagans, Carvers, Perkins and a handful of other 'well to do' families have skipped town taking most of the sports population with them. Steve has been letting people displaced by the damage crash at the Harrington mansion. Steve has kept up hours at Family Video somehow and is a regular volunteer at the various relief centers in town. Steve has been giving all of them rides and may have told Dustin he's thinking of trading in the Beemer for a bigger vehicle for all the kids and people he chauffeurs about. Steve keeps a room empty and waiting for when Max wakes up before her mother makes an appearance. Steve. Steve. Steve.)

He doesn't expect the way she spits his name like she's talking about Dick and Margaret under the bleachers over a smoke before the yard teacher catches them. The rant about bullies and broken cameras and trashed kitchens and dead monsters in her fridge. The crack in her voice when she crosses her arms to stop their shaking as she lays sin upon sin at this boy's feet.

And maybe before that would have been enough.

He doesn't expect the stone in his stomach or the burning in his chest as he looks the woman he loves in the eye and says "So I guess we should tell Nancy to break up with Jonathan before he pulls a Lonnie, huh?" It's a low blow. He knows from the hurt anger on her face and on the purse of her lips. He knows that's why he said it. "That kid is lucky to be alive let alone walking and have we ever even thanked him for keeping the fucking kids alive each time they pull their dumb shit when the world goes to hell? Does that sound like anything his folks would have ever done for us? Hell for their own fucking kid they practically signed over to ME of all people?"

He's shaking now too and Joyce has her hands fluttering between them like she wants to reach out. To touch, comfort. Pull him close and tell him to take a breath.

"He called me 'His Hop', Joyce" He barely has enough breath on him to squeeze the words past his tight throat. "Called me His Hop and watched Ellie and the kids when I just couldn't and you were at work. I don't think I've seen his folks in town since the mall was opened and all the donors had that big party. Don't think I've spoken to them since '83 and they made me the kid's guardian when they aren't around cause they didn't want to fly down for a government sized concussion."

By now he knows El and Will are peeking around the corner, their eyes wide and worried. Jonathan has his door cracked and Angus (is that the hippie's name? He can't remember) is whispering something about heavy auras. Joyce is staring somewhere off in the distance, wringing her hands and biting her lips like she's facing an interdimensional portal shaped problem.

"The kids are planning to have one of their games in a few days." Her voice is brittle in a way he's not used to anymore. Not since she pulled her youngest out of hell and faced down a demon clawing through her walls. "He always drives them over and- and disappears until they need to head home. I can make sure he stays for dinner. Like the rest of the kids. I know Claudia has been having him over so I- I can get some recipes from her that he likes."

Something in his shoulders shakes loose and he reaches out to pull her practically shaking from into his chest.

"I don't know what to say to him Hop. He's not Mike and he's not like either of my boys. In my head he's just always been..."

"Dick and Margaret's brat." He sighs out and rests his cheek on the top of her head as she nods and presses herself in closer.

He's aware of eyes on them. Confused and worried and judgemental and he'll pay that piper next. These kids taught him how to be a dad again once, they can do it again, right?

Part 3

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth

If I missed you in the tag list I'm sorry I tried 🙃🫡 Tell me what you think? 🫣🥲

#nttttf verse #Never Took The Time (To Forget) #yeah the ramblings of a madperson #rambler writes #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #not fic #i need sleep #stranger things thoughts #hopper pov #hopper byers family #I swear I love Joyce #I just need her to realize she canonically dislikes Steve for VERY stupid reasons #jopper #fic writing #fic wip #stranger things wip

[blackbatcass]

the thing about dickroy is it’s at this delicious little cross section where roy harper loves dick grayson so much his chest is going to explode one of these days AND ALSO is physically incapable of taking any of dick’s bullshit.

#dick grayson #roy harper #dickroy #like. do you get it. #he loves dick so much he is also CONSTANTLY CALLING DICK OUT #like roy is not a nightwing apologist like a lot of other people are. he loves that man he also knows he’s stupid as fuck #not actually dick is very smart but you know what i mean. dick fucks up and roy will not let him get away with it #roy loves dick he also HOLDS HIM THE FUCK ACCOUNTABLE #like. it’s love without the rose tinted glasses you know?? #roy is NOT here for dick being avoidant or stubborn. he will call that shit as he sees it. #someone tell me to stop writing dickroy fic and do my homework🤦‍♀️

[welcomingdisaster]

Things to do When You’re Bored on Thangorodrim

Cry 

Hit the rocks a little 

Regret things 

Cry some more 

Look at the stars and feel inspired 

Hit the rocks some more 

Feel stupid about smashing up your good hand on the rocks 

Try to count the orcs passing underneath 

Give up 

Take a nap 

Feel distantly impressed the orcs are still marching 

Try to count the orcs again 

Do a lot of orc-multiplication in your head 

Realize they’re marching in a circle 

Feel kind of gaslit 

Look up at the stars 

Sing a little ditty (to the stars) 

Watch the orcs leave 

Take a nap 

Nothing, for an unknown amount of time

Try some bird calls

Feel kind of embarrassed about the quality of your bird calls 

Take a nap 

Watch the bats 

Chip off a bit of the rock and toss it in general direction of the bats to trick them into thinking it’s an insect 

Feel kind of satisfied about tricking the bats 

Feel kind of guilty about tricking the bats 

Miss your father

Get pissed at your father. What the fuck, right? 

Take shelter from the rain against the rock wall 

Get wet 

Think about how pretty lightning is 

Regret things 

Cry 

Kick the rock wall 

Chew your nails 

Scold yourself for falling back into bad habits 

Do long division in your head 

Scream 

Nothing, for an unknown amount of time 

Wake up

Look down at the marching orcs 

Think about that one time four hundred years ago you came to court with your robes undone in the back 

Miss your brothers 

Miss your mother 

Miss your father 

Think about how your father’s dead 

Regret things

Wonder what they’re doing back home 

Imagine a lot of lamps, probably 

Think about the making of lamps 

Cry 

Feel kind of stupid about crying re: lamps 

Hope the bats didn’t actually eat the rock you tossed 

Apologize to the bats for tricking them with the rock

Sing a little ditty (to the bats) 

Chew your nails 

Scream 

Kick the rock wall 

More long division 

Invent a new kind of pull-up which involves being chained to a sheer rock face by your right hand and crying a lot 

Watch eagles 

Sing a little ditty (to the eagles) 

Come up with an elaborate story in your head about how the eagles are in love 

Realize the eagles are brothers 

Feel guilty about the story you made up in your head 

Take a nap 

Look up at the stars 

Do your pull up a whole bunch of times 

Lick the rock wall 

Try to remember how to write a villanelle  

Eat a piece of your own skin that peeled off your hand after you hit the rock wall 

Feel gross 

Hope your brothers are coming to get you 

Hope your bothers aren’t coming to get you 

Cry

Swing back and forth on the chain a little 

Sing a little ditty (just in general) 

Wave to the eagles as they return 

Watch eagles 

Try to think of good and pure things while watching the eagles 

Fuck it, incest eagles 

#maedhros #my fic #kinda #tw mentions of incest #between animals though #kinda gross also #sometimes u just have to get a very stupid idea out of your head

[theminecraftbee]

can i request three somehow forced into a fake dating situation

Three stares directly into Martyn’s eyes. They are blue and of an average size. It feels as though maybe this should be against the rules, but according to the book it had read, this was… normal. A normal thing to do on a date. Look deeply into someone’s eyes. It would not be suspicious at all, even though Three isn’t really sure how to look more or less deeply into anyone’s eyes at all. Eyes are not flat, but even when Three Looks, it isn’t as though there is anything interesting in there.

Martyn is sweating somewhat. He looks away first.

Three’s pretty sure this counts as a victory, especially given Martyn can’t see Three’s face behind the mask anyway. It is good Three has now won the game of ‘staring lovingly into its date’s eyes’, because that had been a strange, threatening mortal ritual. It would rather not do that again.

“Haha, thanks again for agreeing to this date,” Martyn says, very suspiciously looking around the small cafe in a bustling semi-private Origins server. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to hang out like this. Gods, do I sound stupid.”

“You do,” Three says.

“You don’t have to answer those,” Martyn says.

“Will comply,” Three says.

“Oh, for the love of—we’re on a date. A date!” Here, Martyn winks obnoxiously. “It’s not a mission.” He winks obnoxiously again. “Besides, you should lighten up!”

“Will comply,” Three says.

“You know, I had forgotten how obnoxious that was,” Martyn says cheerfully. “Anyway, I should order us some drinks! Have some conversation! Keep an eye out around us, yeah, for our waiter?”

“You are not very subtle,” Three says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martyn says. “Besides, honestly? I am really glad to just hang out with you. Because we’re dating! On this server for fancy couples. Yep.”

The problem is, of course, that a fancy origins server is a great place for the strangest of people to hide.

When Martyn had asked a favor, Three had been… uncertain. This was not because Three doesn’t care for Martyn—it does, greatly—or because Three didn’t want to see Martyn—they’d met up a few times before now, tentative and quiet and frustrated and all the things that were hard to explain, and then in all the ways they were okay again—but because Martyn, for all Three cares for him, is still an idiot.

Three is its own handler, now. It does not have to follow handlers that are morons. It had told Martyn this. When Martyn had stopped wheezing, he’d explained that it’d be fun. Not Listener business, he promised; he still hadn’t quite gotten out, but he wouldn’t drag Three in, Scout’s honor.

(Three believes him. It’s never been that Three doesn’t trust him.)

It was a friend of Martyn’s that had gone missing. Apparently, on some fancy modded server? And now, Martyn wanted Three to come help him do some recon because, quote, “Jimmy laughed at me until he cried and that hurt me a little bit, not going to lie, and I’ve used up the favors Ren owes me, and Oli was busy. Have you met Oli? You’d like Oli.”

(Three did not like Oli.)

Three agreed, despite its better judgement. The reason it thought this may be a poor plan was because—

“Ah, the lovely Valentines,” the waiter says. He gives them a plate of lovely heart-shaped calamari. Three wonders if they had belonged to heart-shaped squid. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful here with my beloved!” Martyn says.

The waiter and Martyn both look at Three. Three doesn’t say anything and sits perfectly still.

“Um,” the waiter says.

“It’s for a health condition,” Martyn says, which technically isn’t a lie.

“Very well, sirs, although it may get in the way of the kissing competition!”

Martyn, who had just started sipping some wine, chokes on it.

“I will win the kissing competition,” Three says.

Martyn chokes harder.

“I will see you to it!” the waiter says. “And of course, our patented species comparability exam is the highlight of the evening.”

“Oh. I am not sure I can produce viable offspring,” Three says.

The waiter stares at Three. Three stares back, although not into the waiter’s eyes, as to not cause any confusion. The mask somewhat prevents that from working, though.

“Very well then,” the waiter says. “I suppose just—do you need help?”

“It knows what it’s doing,” Martyn hisses.

“I did do research before coming here,” Three says.

“I’ll just head on,” the waiter says, in a tone that suggests to Three that maybe it did not do enough research before agreeing to help Martyn.

Oh well.

At least the mask means it doesn’t have to keep a straight face as it picks Martyn off the ground and, completely flat in tone, says: “Do not die. I would be sad if you died of something as stupid as choking on wine.”

“I asked for this,” Martyn says.

“Yes,” Three says. “You did. That is why I am here.”

(Beneath the table, it grabs Martyn’s hand. Martyn squeezes Three’s hand back. It had missed him, though. For all they do not see each other often—)

(Well. It had missed him, though.)

#answered #ask game #strifetxt #solving counting sheep talk #a bee fic #not going to fandom tag this one because frankly scs always confuses me on whether it’d be rude to ;-; #anyway lei your brain is so huge. this is such an inherently funny concept. #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #I MEAN. NO THIS ONE IS PLATONIC ACTUALLY BUT I FEEL LIKE PEOPLE WHO HAVE THOSE TAGS BLOCKED WOULDNT WANNA SEE THIS #so I am BEING POLITE. #anyway I love solving counting sheep I should write side stories for it #I still periodically rotate three in my head like a rotisserie chicken. #THIS IS VERY STUPID BTW. #set nebulously A. Few? years after canon #up to you to decide EXACTLY win but it’s implied here some rats and some third life equivalent happened #so do with that as you will idk if that’s canon in my head but since its post fic canon who cares

[your-honor-im-zesty]

Stuck in the Boiler Room with You and Your Stupid Blue Eyes

Leo was straight, okay? He was straight. With a capital S. Just your Typical Straight Heterosexual Guy Who Is Very Much Attracted To Girls But Not Guys.

Yeah, that was him. To a T.

Which was why he was absolutely infuriated by Jason's eyes.

He hated them. They were blue- electric blue, piercing and clear. They crinkled and narrowed and fluttered and squinted all while remaining that frustrating shade of blue. Which he hated.

It was distracting, for one. He can hardly get any work done whenever Jason's around, because Jason was his best friend, and everyone talked to their best friends. And when Leo talked to people, he looked at them, right in the face- and inevitably, right into those frustratingly blue eyes.

Like right now, for instance.

"So," said Jason, leaning to peer at the Argo ll blueprints. He points to the room they're in right now- the boiler room. "Here's where we are." His fingers drags across the paper to pause at the hallway of rooms. "And that's where everyone else is."

"Congratulations, Grace- you can see!" Leo keeps his voice cheery and sarcastic, trying to focus his gaze on the blueprints and not those damn blue peepers.

Jason snorted. "You're very happy for someone who's locked in a boiler room for the next 3 hours."

That pretty much killed the mood.

Leo wasn't even sure how or why the boiler room was locked; he had double checked the mechanics back at Camp Half-Blood, and it had been adequate enough. So there was no reason for them to be stuck in here without any means of leaving- but hey, maybe the universe hated him. It certainly seemed to be holding a grudge against him lately. He wondered if he'd done something wrong in his past life and this was his penance.

"Relax, Superman- 3 hours you'll be blessed with my gracious presence!" he said brightly. "It's a great honor, really. If either of us should be bursting with happiness right now, it's you."

Jason huffed. "Piper'll have my ass for this in the morning," he muttered.

Ah yes. Piper. The girlfriend. Of his best friend. That also kind of killed the mood, though he wasn't sure how. Piper was also his best friend, and it wasn't like he hated her or anything. She was a pleasant person (when she wasn't raving about Drew Tanaka or making googly eyes at Jason)

Eyes. Jason. That was a no-no combination. He really had to stop thinking about it.

He clasped his hands together. "Never fear, Jason! Your very smart, very handsome, very heroic best friend can think himself out of every problem." He winked. "We'll be out of here before the clock strikes twelve, Cinderella."

"Cinderella?" Jason looked at him blankly.

"Dude. Don't tell me you don't know Cinderella."

Jason shrugged.

"Come on!" Leo was appalled. "What did you read growing up? What were your bedtime stories?"

"Lupa once told me the story of a boy who got eaten," Jason mused. "He talked too much, apparently. She told me the same thing would happen to me if I didn't shut my mouth."

O-kay. Leo made a mental note to schedule a therapy appointment for his best friend. That boy had some serious trauma.

"Alright, Plan A," he announced. "Unlocking the door."

"You already tried that. Multiple times."

Leo wrinkled his nose at him. "Man, at least be my cheerleader if you're not gonna help. Put those pretty boy looks to use."

It was a joke, obviously- even if Leo did think Jason was the living embodiment of pretty boy. But Jason looked more flustered than amused by the joke.

"Sure," he coughed, taking a sudden interest in the floor. "Go Leo. L-E-O. For Leo."

"You're pathetic," Leo told him. He walked away, making a bee-line for the boiler door. Jason trailed after him. "Seriously, Piper would be disappointed."

At the mention of Piper, Jason clammed up.

Leo knelt, taking a screwdriver from his pocket and began to work. Often, when Leo switched to what he liked to call his "Magic Mindset", his fingers suddenly had a mind of their own. He didn't even know the kinks of half the things he fixed, but in situations like this, the answers came naturally, like they'd been sitting in the back of his mind as excess knowledge. Thanks, Hephaestus.

But Magic Mindset seemed to be out of order today; a few minutes had passed and the door remained firmly locked.

Leo grunted, rising to his feet. "Damn door," he grumbled, pocketing his screwdriver.

Jason looked smug, all earlier bashfulness gone. "Told you so."

"Shut up, Grace. Onto Plan B."

"Which is...?"

Leo pointed at him. "Your job, not mine. It's not fair for me to do all the work, is it?"

Jason narrowed his eyes- shit, his eyes. "Fucker," he groused, which was surprising. You would think The Golden Boy Jason Grace, Son of Jupiter and New Rome's Grandest Hero, would know better than to curse.

Jason peered around; his eyes- Leo cursed at himself, what was it about those eyes?- caught on the ceiling. "There."

"What?" Leo followed his gaze. "That's a ceiling, dude."

"Look closer."

Leo did and- oh. Oh.

Hell no.

"That's ridiculous," he said. "I'm not climbing into an air vent. I have too much dignity for that."

Jason looked unfazed. "Have fun in the boiling room alone, then."

"Wha- HEY! GRACE GET BACK HERE!"

Jason had launched himself into the air, and was now hovering a few feet above. A rare, mischievous grin unfurled across his face- Leo didn't even know Jason had the ability to be mischievous. "Coming or not?"

"You're a menace to society," Leo told him. "And I'm speaking as the person who gets frequently shamed for putting pineapple on his pizza."

"I was raised by wolves- forgive me if my ettiquette isn't very decent," said Jason dryly. He reached a hand below, and Leo accepted it.

Shit. Was his hand greasy? He never really washed it after using his tools...and now he wished he had. Curse his lazy ass.

His hand was definitely warm. Double shit. Jason was probably grossed out. Was he grossed out? Leo craned his neck to check; Jason was staring back at him, brows furrowed. He didn't look disgusted, per se, but his expression was definitely odd.

"What? Admiring my good looks?" Leo teased.

Jason's cheeks blotched red. "Can't admire something nonexistent," he retorted, yanking Leo from the ground. His free hand grabbed Leo's elbow, adjusting him so that they were eye level in the air.

Damn blue eyes. They would be the death of him.

"Alright, Tinkerbell," Leo said. "Get me up there- I'll unscrew the vent for you, be your Peter Pan."

"What the hell is a Tinkerbell?" Jason muttered as he floated them both higher, until the air vent was within reach. Leo reached for his screwdriver once again, making a mental note to buy Jason a storybook once they returned from their quest. If they returned from their quest.

"Your lack of childhood upsets me," he said mildly as he unscrewed the vent open. Jason grunted and gently pushed him in; Leo crawled in.

"You coming?"

Jason grunted in reply, crawling inside. Leo couldn't see him, but his voice sounded distinctly disgruntled. "I hate small spaces."

"Genius idea, then, to use one to escape," Leo said sardonically.

"They're too small."

"Once again, proving your eyesight to be exceptional, Mr. Grace."

Jason let out a growl reminiscent to a wolf's. "Valdez, you better start crawling."

---------------

i had way too much fun writing this fic. (in my defense, i'm on a writing spree rn)

#percy jackson #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #jason grace #jason x leo #valgrace #valgrace fic #dumbasses in love #very stupid boys #i kind of like writing stupid boys in love idk why #should i make a part 2? #not really sure lmao

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

"So," Robin says after they clink their molotov cocktails together, "do we also get to talk about the whole cousin situation now?"

Steve looks across the field, where Eddie and Dustin are defending themselves from invisible enemies. Gareth and Lucas are swinging the finished spears at each other while Erica shakes her head at them, working on a third. It looks like Nancy is showing Max the proper way to hold a shotgun, which isn't nearly as bizarre as it probably should be.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Are you doing okay?" Robin asks.

Steve doesn't mean to making a scoffing noise. It just leaves his body involuntarily. "No. But I'm not the only one not doing okay. Now that we know Vecna doesn't have to do the whole weeklong build up to murder town, that he could get any of us, as any time and he's just being a sadistic bastard-"

"Steve. He'll take the bait. If nothing else, we have to believe that."

Steve looks from Max to Gareth, then back to Robin. "Yeah. Right."

Robin is quiet for a moment, before her eyes flick away and back to him again. "Do you want to talk to Gareth? He was... God, Steve, it was awful, hearing him scream for you. While Vecna was... Anyway, I know you two are like avoiding each other for whatever reason, but I think you can let go of whatever it was."

"I just wanted to keep them safe, Robbie," Steve swallows down the sob that wants to break free. "I never wanted them involved in this. I was so scared that I'd somehow infect them with the Upside Down that I just kept them away and it took Chrissy anyway. It-it-"

"It hasn't taken Gareth, though," Robin says softly, cutting Steve's spiral off. "It hasn't taken him. But he needs you. I think you need him, too. You should talk. Before we drop him at the Creel house. Because."

She doesn't finish, but that's fine. Steve knows what she's saying. They could die today. Any one of them. Chrissy died without Steve making it right. He'd started to work on hanging out with Chrissy again, but it was all surface level. He didn't even apologize. With Gareth he could justify, however shitty that was to do, that he was staying away because Gareth asked him to.

Chrissy hadn't asked for Steve to step out of her life. He'd done that himself in '83.

He can't do right by Chrissy anymore, but he can try with Gareth.

He stands and Robin gives his knee two solid pats before he walks away.

"Dustin, you piss off Steve somehow?" Eddie asks.

Gareth, in the middle of facing off with Lucas, pauses to look around, which gains him a light tap to his side by Lucas' spear. Sure enough, Steve is stalking their direction with a grim determination on his face.

"What, why am I the one getting the blame?" Dustin says, offended.

"It is usually you," Lucas adds, which earns him a squawk of indignation from Dustin, who shoots back, "he could be coming to lecture you for making Erica do all the spear making!"

Steve doesn't approach either boy, though.

"Hey, can we talk?" Steve asks once he comes to a stop in front of him.

"Got some end of the world regrets, Harrington?" Gareth says, trying to keep his voice lighter than he feels. He wants to tease Steve, not bully him.

He must succeed because Steve gives a chuckle and says, "I don't think we have time for all the end of the world regrets, so, uhh, just the one for now."

"We're cool, dude," Gareth says, eyes flicking from Steve to Eddie. The kids know, Gareth told them himself, but Eddie doesn't. "I started it."

"Yeah, but I graduated and still pretended you didn't exist. Which isn't what you asked for."

Gareth shrugs, because he doesn't know everything but he knows enough. Learned this isn't anyone else's (besides Eddie and his) first rodeo or whatever. That there have been other times, dating back to the year Will Byers was lost for a week. "Dude. Seriously. We're cool. You've been dealing with... whatever the fuck this is. So, just, like promise to be around more once we all survive this."

Steve looks pained but before he can reply, Eddie cuts in, "I'm sorry. How do you know each other?"

Gareth looks to Steve, who just shrugs as if to say your friend, you responsibility and honestly? Fuck Steve Harrington. Keeps traumatizing secrets and pushes Gareth away and also throws him to the wolves. Except, this is the secret Gareth has been keeping from Eddie. He sighs and turns to Eddie. "Well, uh, Steve's my cousin. We used to be super close before I started high school. Actually, Steve here is the reason I joined Hellfire!"

Eddie seems to go through all 7 stages of grief before settling into a confused. "I'm sorry. Steve talked you into joining Hellfire?"

"That is not what I did!" Steve defends himself.

"God no. He just went into great detail about how loud and obnoxious and attention-grabbing the current president was, as if that would make me want to not meet you for some reason."

"It was a warning!" Steve yelps at the same time Eddie sing-songs, "You think I'm attention-grabbing, Harrington?"

Dustin, Lucas, and Erica are all laughing at Steve has he tries to sputter through what he meant by attention-grabbing ("It's hard to not pay attention when he's shouting from the top of a lunch table!"), and Gareth just watches on, amused.

After they fight an... evil wizard? Vecna or whatever his name is. Once this is over, Gareth is going to sit Steve down and make him tell him everything, but that can wait.

He wants to watch Steve flounder trying to defend himself from the accusations of watching Eddie just a bit too much back in high school.

Later, as they all pack up and load up in the RV, Nancy stops Steve from entering the RV, ushering everyone past until Gareth and Steve are the only ones left outside.

"Are we acknowledging that you're cousins, now?" she asks.

"You knew!?" Steve sounds surprised. Gareth's surprised, too.

Nancy just rolls her eyes. "Steve, I've been to your house." When that just makes Steve look confused, she rolls her eyes and says, "there are family pictures covering almost every inch of your living room."

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Robin pipes in, appearing in the doorway with an angry expression.

"It wasn't really my thing to talk about, was it?"

"Yeah, but did you even check in with Steve? If you knew, and knew what happened to Chrissy- you didn't even ask if he wanted to go to the funeral!"

"Robin!" Steve hisses.

Nancy doesn't look upset by whatever accusation Robin seems to be trying to make. "If Steve wanted to go, he could have said something. We aren't his keepers. But, also," her gaze goes from Robin to Steve, "I didn't want to pry or seem pushy. I figured you'd tell us when you were ready."

Robin frowns but doesn't say anything else, disappearing back into the RV. Gareth gestures for Steve and Nancy to go first, and then he's closing and locking the door behind him before heading to sit by Eddie along the back bench seat. A bunch of shit has been piled there, so Gareth shoves it off the seat and to the floor. The pile of things ends up being a hazard and he almost brains himself while turning to sit down; something under his foot slides and Eddie saves him, yanking him to fall onto Eddie. After some fussing and laughter from those around, Gareth gets seated and looks down to see what almost killed him.

It's a phone book.

Eddie leans in close once they're back on the road to town to whisper, "so, you just let me go on all those rants about King Steve and never once thought to tell me you were related?"

Gareth just gives him his best impression of a King Steve smirk and says, "I would have hate to have deterred you from talking about your favorite school subject."

It's worth seeing the scandalized look on Eddie's face, even as the man socks him in the leg for the comment. "I hate you, man."

Gareth rubs his leg and says, "you don't mean that."

There's a long silence from Eddie after that before he says, "you're right. I don't mean that. And. Uh. In case I don't- in case it goes south down there but ends up fine up here, I just-"

"No," Gareth growls. "Fuck you, Eddie. We're going to be fine. All you gotta do is shred on your guitar and get the hell out. You're going to be fine."

"You didn't see the bats."

"Eddie."

"Fine. It's gonna be fine," Eddie agrees and falls silent.

Gareth frowns at that. Eddie must really be worried, to not argue back like he usually does. Gareth's worried, too, but what can he do?

He thinks about his mom. When did he last tell her he loves her? If they don't succeed tonight, will he get a chance to say it again? Will anyone get a chance to say it again?

Gareth looks down at the phone book at his feet.

"Wait, does anyone have change for a payphone?" Gareth asks from somewhere behind him. Steve turns in his seat to look into the back of the RV.

"Uh, yeah," Robin digs into her pockets, but then narrows her eyes at Gareth and asks, "wait. Who are you calling?"

"I have to let my mom know I'm alive. Just... hear my voice," Gareth says. "She needs to know I'm okay. It's already been too long since last we talked and... after Chrissy she was..."

Robin's face drops into the guiltiest look Steve's ever seen on her face and she produces her wallet, dropping the whole thing into Gareth's open hand. "Yeah, no. Sorry. There's still plenty of time for a phone call before the end of the world. You better return my wallet, Cunningham."

"I'm not going to rob you, Buckley," Gareth says before ducking out the RV with Max, Lucas, and Erica.

Steve tries not to let the guilt well up in him as they drive away. Gareth had wanted to come with Team Kill Vecna but Steve had quickly argued against that. He wasn't going to let Gareth anywhere near the Upside Down.

So it was decided. Max, Lucas, Erica, and Gareth at the Creel house, Dustin and Eddie on distraction, and Nancy, Robin, and Steve were going to face down Vecna.

There was still hours to go before they'd try, with a time set for 9:20ish, since that's the time Vecna's been enacting his curse according to Eddie's broken watch. Plenty of time to fortify Eddie's house in the Upside Down, plus the almost 40 minute walk to the Creel house from Forest Hills.

This was going to work. It had to.

Max and Lucas opt for hiding around the back of the house, waiting for time to pass until it's closer to dark, and Erica said she was going to snoop around the abandoned playground, so Gareth decided to head to the payphone a couple of blocks down the street.

He makes it halfway there before Erica scares the shit out of him by saying, "why do you need a phone book?"

Gareth yelps and spins, stupidly trying to hid the book behind his back even though he knows she already saw it. "I- uh, no. No reason."

Erica eyes him and he's suddenly very aware of whatever Eddie saw in her that night at Hellfire, that let her join the club. She's pretty scary for a middle schooler. "Do I look stupid? Who are you calling." It's not a question. It's a demand.

"I'm going to try and get a hold of Eddie's uncle," Gareth answers, trying to sound like an authority figure. "Tell him he'll find Eddie at his home at eight tonight. I know you all are so used to not telling people but this is- we need a real adult and Wayne's an army vet. He'll know how to help. He'll want to help."

She purses her lips, stays quiet for a moment before she nods. "I'm usually surrounded by stupid people, but you're kind of not one. I've got more change if you need it."

Gareth calls the plant and asks to speak to Wayne Munson. It's a bit of back and forth before the secretary agrees, but only if Wayne agrees to speak to a Gareth Cunningham. The plant must be getting calls from angry locals.

"Are ya really Gareth, or are ya just wantin' ta yell at me for helpin' raise the devil incarnate?" Wayne sounds tired and Gareth feels bad for him.

"Eddie would love for you to call him that to his face when you see him again."

"Thank God, son," Wayne sounds relieved. He must recognize Gareth's voice. "Ya okay? No one's harrassin' ya, are they?"

"No. Listen Wayne, I'm going to say something crazy but please just listen and do your best to be casual. I know where Eddie is. Or, where he will be at eight tonight. He's.... not physically hurt but he's going to need you. He might hate me for telling you this but I had to."

There is a pause where all he hears through the phone is a long inhale followed by a slow exhale. "Mmm hmm. I appreciate yer concern and glad ta hear no one's botherin' ya just for knowin' Eddie."

Gareth is only confused for a moment before he realizes Wayne is trying to make this conversation sound routine from his end. "Just. He's going home. But please don't show up until after eight. If you... if you beat him home he might run. Try to keep you out of this, y'know?" Gareth is just lying now, but he's a teenage boy in a garage band that plays in a dingy bar at the edge of town. That is to say, he knows how to lie off the cuff.

"I read ya loud and clear. I'll let ya know as soon as Eddie's been found safe so ya can quit worryin'. I gotta get back to it, but thanks for reachin' out."

Gareth hangs up and looks to Erica. "Well. Let's hope I haven't ruined everything."

"Let's hope that you know Wayne as well as you think you do."

#steve‚ gareth‚ and chrissy are cousins au #my fic #everyone is like “wE cAnT tElL aNyOnE wHaT wE aRe DoInG” and gareth is like “i think u are all stupid and also i havent signed an nda and #i know what my best friend looks like when he needs support and since yall wont let ME go with to kill vecna for revenge for chrissy #(thanks no thanks STEVE) im going to sick eddie's uncle on you" and i think that's very smart of him #gareth has zero issues asking for help when he thinks everyone he loves could DIE

[pro-sipper]

What do proshippers generally believe about shipping real people? Stuff like creator x creator or celebrity x reader?

That it falls under the umbrella of "you should be allowed to write anything you want". Once again, it's not my personal thing. There's no real life pairing I read for, and the whole "blank x reader" is not appealing to me at all.

But I have no problem with people writing that stuff, or knowing it's out there. I saw someone a while back say that it's basically just writing about another character, and I agree with that. No matter how much a creator posts or how open a celebrity seems with their personal life, we're still only seeing a tiny snippet of their lives. We have no clue who they are when the cameras aren't recording because we just don't know them. And whatever someone chooses to write about is mostly stemming from that particular persona that they happen to put on for the world and that's it. It's completely separate from our reality because they're basically just writing about another made up character

The problem I have, and it's what I imagine most proshippers also take issue with, is when people start blurring the lines between fiction and reality. To me, there's a world of difference between posting something on ao3, and speculating on secret relationships in the comments of someone's youtube video. Or between talking about something on tumblr, and tagging the person directly on twitter.

I just don't understand people who condemn rpf and talk about how gross and invasive it is, but think it's funny to tag celebrities on twitter to bring up (what they think is) cringe-worthy fanfic tropes that people have written them into. Or people who print out fanworks to shove into an actor's face at a meet and greet and ask them what they think about it. That's where the lines get crossed, to me.

I think ao3 and tumblr still have an air of mysticism to them. A little secrecy, a little privacy. In the sense that someone in the public eye would have to put in a little work to find this stuff for themselves. They'd have to go to the site and search themselves up to find anything. As opposed to just about anyone in the world being able to force this content in their line of sight with a simple @ on a site like twitter.

So to me the problem isn't that this content exists. The problem is when people don't know how to keep fandom stuff private. Write all the rpf you want but remember at the end of the day these are real people, not your blorbos. You don't know them. It's inappropriate to say these things to them personally (which yes, also includes tagging them on twitter or in the comments of their videos). But it's also inappropriate to run up to them with other people's content just to say "look what these FREAKS wrote about you!!" And I think people either forget or just genuinely don't care about the latter.

#proship #proshippers #pro ship #proshippers please interact #proshipper #proshipping #rpf #real person fiction #asks #anonymous #sip rambles #i know its so much crazier in this day and age than when i was a kid #with social media and stupid stuff like tiktok basically being a requirement of the job it seems #and celebs posting constantly and having a quick way to interact with fans #or content creators whose entire brand exists on social media apps like tiktok #who seem to be posting 24/7 and broadcasting their whole lives #and i know most of those types of creators mostly have younger followers who probably do very easily get sucked into #feeling like they know that person like thats their friend #and i also dont think that type of creator really discourages those feelings bc... they want followers and $$$ #but idk just write your fic and read it or dont do either and just leave celebs alone irl please please please

[aquarianshift]

sleepy mornings from wouldn't it be nice? as requested by @pauls1967moustache for the get to know your fic writer ask meme

(please go re-read—it ruined my day in the best way 😭💍🎸💕)

#something we've all wanted to do im sure #so why is paul. famous lefty. stroking john's nose with his right hand? #it's very simple #it's a reference to the scene in this fix where john is so nervous at his wedding that he puts the pen in paul's right hand instead #also he's touching himself with his left hand #also i'm stupid and forgot #beatles fanart #mclennon #john #paul #fic #beatlesoctober

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @wikiangela 😘

Haven’t had the brain capacity to get much writing done since Friday, but I did manage to tippity type a little something something for LA Lonely 🏙️ . So have some of Buck’s inner self deprecating thoughts.

Prev snippet here

As the weekend rolls into Monday, Buck tries not to think about Eddie but somehow the guy has burrowed under his skin, an itch that Buck can’t scratch. He finds himself doing a double take at every fit, 6 foot brunette man that he encounters while on a call, both disappointed and relieved that they aren’t who he’s hoping for.

Not that he’s hoping to run into Eddie again. The guy didn’t leave his number or take Buck’s, and Buck’s been playing this game for so long he knows what that means. Because Buck is only good for one night, maybe a weekend if he’s lucky. No one wants to take a chance on him.

He’s used to it, so he doesn’t understand why he can’t get Eddie out of his head. The sex was good - incredible actually - and Eddie was hot. And kind. And his smile could light up an entire room. And Buck really needed to get a grip.

Eddie had his fun and then he left. Just like everyone else.

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @lover-of-mine @wikiangela @wildlife4life @athenagranted @watchyourbuck @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @goforkinard @bigfootsmom @bidisasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @evankinard @eddiebabygirldiaz @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @tizniz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @shortsighted-owl @sibylsleaves @donationwayne @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jesuisici33 @king-buckley @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @neverevan @nmcggg @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @monsterrae1 @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz and as always, anyone who wants to join in and share something -> consider this your official tag.

Also sorry if I forgot anyone .. there’s been a few url changes and it’s gotten a bit confusing 🫤

#daffi writes #wip: la lonely #I wanna finish the last chapter of rivals soooo bad but the smutty beans have taken a break to recharge #doesn’t help that I’ve also been feeling pretty shitty overall these past few days #(I’m okay - just period hormones and a stupid cold) #anyway .. I’m enjoying this little fic #it’s almost at 5K and I still have so much I wanna cram in haha #can’t seem to just write this happened then this .. no I gotta dive into the details and stretch things out #*long suffering sigh* #😅 #buddie wip #buddie #also if anyone is concerned: no Eddie did not just have his fun and leave #he is very much enamoured by Buck #allllll will be revealed in the end

[wynnyfryd]

“You ever heard of the Easter demon?” Steve asks casually around a mouthful of hard-boiled egg.

“Huh?” Eddie asks, looking up just in time to see Max flick Steve on the back of the head and say, “You’re supposed to be coloring those eggs, asshole, not eating them.”

“This one was broken!” Steve protests, and wow, he must really be going soft. Didn’t even sass her for the language this time.

Eddie dunks his own egg into a cup of blue food coloring, sucking a stray splash of the bright liquid off his thumb. “What’s this about the seasonal occult?”

“You would be into Steve’s dumb scary stories, you nerd,” Erica snarks.

“Can you not say ‘occult’ so loudly?” Mike throws a worried look over his shoulder. “My mom, like, just agreed to let you start coming to our house again.”

“Right, fine,” Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses himself in the wrong direction. “Steve, you were saying?”

“Mm, yeah. My cousin told me about it when I was a kid. Said if you took black-dyed eggs out to that old cave in the woods off Freeling Road and left them as an offering, you could summon a monster. Big freaky bunny thing with fangs or some shit.”

He pauses to take a sip of water, get the egg yolk out of his mouth. “I don’t know, man. I mean, he was always trying to spook me; I’m just curious if it was a local folktale or if he totally made it up.”

Eddie chews the edge of his fingernail, the vague outline of a really fucking stupid prank forming in his mind. “Oh,” he says solemnly, “that’s all true, actually.”

“Fuck off,” Steve laughs.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, eyes going wide. He kicks Robin under the table. “Robin, back me up here.”

“Huh—? That’s—” Her eyes catch on his, and he does his best to silently communicate ‘Buckley, you owe me so hard for stalling Vicky at the shop the other day so you could flirt with her for half an hour.’

Message received, because Robin’s face goes all drawn and serious, and she lets her hand shake a little as she dips her egg in the pink dye. “I mean, after everything we’ve seen? I’d believe anything.”

“You could always go investigate,” Dustin says, ever the little scientist, and see, this is why he’s Eddie’s favorite.

“What do you say, Stevie boy? Wanna go hunt a killer Easter bunny?”

#easter is three weeks away and i’m writing some very stupid crack fic about it #steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #erica sinclair #mike wheeler

[faeriekit]

Lunch Break

a two-prompt phic phight fill for @fuyuthefoxwriter; demon!au and fangs

Notes: 1. This IS a continuation of my prev. demon!au (Visitation) 2. based on the laws of Phic Phight you CANNOT read the previous iterations, as it is nsfw and therefore cannot be linked 3. but for the already present fans…it’s a continuation from that. Also, it’s gray ghost. 

*

Valerie likes her boyfriend. 

He’s cute, with a button nose and blue eyes. He’s sweet. He’s kind, and he’s gentle, and if she leaves him alone he takes the toaster oven apart just to see how it works. It’s kind of like living with a small dog who takes apart pillows if you don’t give them enough attention. 

Valerie loves her boyfriend. 

…But the goddamn teeth. 

She pushes his face away, cutting off their kiss with no warning. Danny squawks. 

“Danny,” Valerie implores, again, because they are in public and not in the comfort of their own apartment, “If you cannot keep human teeth while we are making out, we are not going to make out anymore.”

Her stupid, human-shaped boyfriend pouts. Valerie should be pouting. Valerie has to avoid shredding her tongue like she’s kissing a cheese grater. 

Danny, who is the cause of all this, should not be pouting as if he’s been denied the opportunity to stick his tongue in her mouth for no reason, instead of his habit of turning his extremely normal and flat human teeth into something extremely hazardous to tongues and lips everywhere. 

Danny makes the world’s saddest eyes she’s ever seen. It’s very rude of him. Valerie deserves better. “But Val! I brought you lunch!” 

For one, it’s six in the evening. A more apt word might be ‘dinner’. Secondly…

“I work at a burger restaurant,” Valerie points out, arms crossing over the Nasty Burger logo on her shirt for extra emphasis. “I already have dinner. I also have to be back on shift in half an hour, so if you’re not going to put your teeth away, I’m going to finally finish Don Quixote or nap trying.” 

“Yeah, but you hate eating work food for lunch,” Danny points out, because he does do some very sweet things by 1) recognizing her likes and dislikes and 2) applying them liberally throughout their relationship. He holds up a weirdly large tupperware in his hands. It’s clear. It’s green. 

It’s Fenton salad. 

“...So my Mom packed you leftovers after I picked up stuff at the Ops Center, since she knows you like the dill vinaigrette she makes after the ectology conference every year, and she added the shredded carrot and the crumbly cheese you like since no one else in the house eats it, plus some of those little orange slices and the croutons…”

Valerie’s lips purse. Fenton salad. Her favorite. 

…She takes the container from Danny’s outstretched hands, determined to ignore his smug look. Valerie prefers to be right, but higher in priority comes accepting free food from her boyfriend’s mother.

“You’re welcome,” Danny offers, smugly sweet.

“If I kiss you, will you get me with your teeth again?” Valerie asks. She’s deeply suspicious of both his motives and the timing. 

“...Maybe?” 

Valerie looks at him. “Change your answer.”

“...No?” 

“Close enough.” Valerie draws him in, and Danny lets himself be drawn in; the kiss is sweet, and short, and tastes kind of like mandarin oranges. 

He definitely had some of her salad before sharing. Whatever. It’s a good thing she likes him. 

The kiss is lovely, and not very long; separating is a little harder, though, when Valerie realizes that Phantom’s tail is still wrapped around her waist. 

“...Danny.”

“Mmhm?” 

“I have a shift to get to.”

“Yeah,” Danny agrees, entirely ignorant to his least controlled limb holding her back. 

“So,” Valerie continues, and then scratches at the fur in his tail until he flinches with recognition. “Unwrap me, please.”

“Do I…have to?”

Valerie’s look flattens. Danny makes entirely unacceptable goo-goo eyes at her. 

“I have a shift in ten, and your mom’s salad to devour. Move it or lose it.” 

Danny’s tail unwraps. Danny sighs, leaning in for one last peck—

Valerie feels the tips of fangs bite explicitly into her lips. 

Her growl is hardly intimidated by Phantom’s rush of guilty laughter, her demon-shaped boyfriend slipping out of her fingers. Great. Now she can taste blood— the thing she was trying to avoid. 

Seeing him in all of his claws and fangs and teeth and horns in daylight was always a little strange; he was never quite opaque in sunlight. He was always a touch translucent, only just shifted outside of reality. 

And the stupid cow ears.

No, they're not endearing. Shut up.

It certainly didn’t help that if someone saw him turn into a demon, his whole ‘hiding his identity as a half-demon’ thing would be over! He needs to pick better spots for his random acts of infernal dramatics!

“I’m sorrrryyyy,” Phantom shouted from a healthy fifty feet away, floating in the air. It made him hard to reach, but an excellent target. “I looooovvee yoooouuu!” 

No. Valerie will resist reaching into her armor for a weapon to shoot her boyfriend out of the sky with. It is rude. It is unkind. More importantly, Valerie’s not interested in having a public identity reveal behind the Nasty Burger any more than Danny is. 

It’s fine. There’s other options. 

“Put a shirt on!” Valerie hollers back, hands over her mouth. 

Phantom’s mouth drops in the distance, little fangs glinting in the evening sunlight. His clawed hands go over his chest, looking for some perceived gap in his coverage. “I’ve got fur! I don’t need one!” 

“Exhibitionist!” Valerie heckles back. “Nudist!” 

Phantom squawks in offense. “Come on! I’m covered!” 

“Get some pants!” Valerie shouts back, finally attracting the attention of one of her employees. At the sound of the Nasty Burger’s nasty back door creaking open, Phantom bolts off. 

Good. That’s what he gets. 

Temerity peeks through the back door. Her name tag is upside down, again. “Boss…?”

Valerie brushes herself off, grabs a plastic fork from where it was sitting on her ebook reader, and reclines back onto the plastic lawn chair that counts as their ‘break room’. “It was nothing, Temmie. A demon got into the dumpster again.” 

“Oh.” Temerity’s countenance warms. She’d always had an interest in the local occult scene. “Did it leave anything behind?”

“Nah,” Valerie replies, popping open her tupperware. Just her lunch, apparently. “You need any help…?”

“Nope! We���ll be fine until you get back in.” 

That for sure means something’s wrong. Whatever; Valerie is totally satisfied to finish off the last fifteen minutes of her shift with some literature, a bucket’s worth of satisfaction, and her boyfriend’s dismayed texts pinging in bursts onto her phone. 

#phic phight #phic phight 2024 #faer fic #demon!au #gray ghost #valerie gray #danny fenton #VERY quickly uploading this on break #yes they're stupid yes they're in love yes they're antagonistic #spent all the weekend with two supermarket managers. the inspiration is so real

[hitlikehammers]

stupid superpower

rating: teen tags: humor, brotherly ribbing, Dustin has a ✨stupid superpower✨, Dustin continues to have issues with his tone ✨for @slashify at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: Character Has Powers (requested to be Dustin)

“Look, see!” Dustin points at the mat he’s laid out on the coffee table in Steve’s living room. “This is why Dart was so easy, it makes so much sense now.”

He turns to them with the biggest grin that’s getting a little less gummy by the week, now, but…he looks so proud, is the thing.

And it is painful. The pride. What it’s for.

The way they’re gonna have to probably dash it.

“I,” Steve squints at the setup, start to finish, empty cans framing the perimeter before he sighs: “I am not seeing anything, man.”

“No,” Dustin’s voice goes pitchy, really, he should have outgrown that by now, s’looking like it’s a permanent trait, yeesh; “look.”

And he points with such…some superiority, such imperiousness, like…okay, so maybe it’s the least painful of the list, when they have to dash all that pride. Kid’s gotta fucking learn some humility, man. Like, sooner rather than later.

“I told you I could communicate with them!” Dustin pulls off his cap and throws it to the couch, triumphant. Steve watches the mat for a few more seconds before he straights up, cocks his hip and crosses his arms.

“You’re telling me,” he says slowly; “that you talk to slugs.”

Because that…that certainly appears to be what the argument has been. They’d kinda thought Dustin has been joking, in previous passing mention. Eddie, at least, definitely thought he was just being an annoying little prick for how many times he asked if either of them felt particularly chiropteran, muttering about traits from interactions, close encounters, bites would obviously count.

Like, it was Dustin, if they took all the crap he said to heart, weighed it seriously, they’d never do anything else.

Like: ever.

“Interspecial gastropodic extracommunicational phenomena,” Dustin rattles off, a little defensive, if Eddie’s gonna be honest; and it wasn’t exactly called for. Steve just asked a question.

Eddie, on the other hand…

“So slugs and snails,” Eddie confirms, droll as fuck by intention, because Eddie is actually very aware of his tone in most situations, thank you very much; “the shell doesn’t deter you.”

“No, I think it’s the whole at least the whole class, maybe the whole phylum,” and he’s so excited, but, he’s also being a fucking know-it-all about it and there is a part of Eddie that doesn’t want to squash Dustin’s enthusiasm but the bigger part of Eddie, but fucking far, knows for a goddamn fact no one could possible squash Dustin’s enthusiasm, or self-confidence, like, Dustin would happily go toe-to-toe with like, Stephen fucking Hawking, and brag afterward that the intellectual stimulation was lacking.

So Eddie doesn’t actually feel bad about any of this and Dustin rambles on.

“But I think if I got my hands on a limpet, or an abalone—“

And when he looks up he must catch something, like he must be able to tell, to read something despite Eddie being very fucking careful to keep a helluva poker face right now—and Eddie’s kinda proud, because maybe the little shithead can be taught.

“You’re joking,” Dustin concludes, dry as fuck and with the audacity to sound…disappointed? Like in a how-could-you-be-so-juvenile-as-to-stoop-to-this-level kind of way which. Which.

“Not at all,” Eddie clutches his non-existent pearls in mock offense, and Dustin’s eyes just narrow.

“I was right.”

“Might not want to say that too loud, Dusty-Buns,” Eddie shoots right back and Steve coughs unconvincingly to cover a laugh and Eddie bites his bottom lip to stop his own smile, less because of Dustin’s reaction and more just because…Stevie. Being adorable.

Steve being his Stevie.

“Yeah, that feels like slander,” Steve adds in thoughtfully, stroking his chin and everything before he turns to Eddie, considering.

“Can you slander yourself, if you’re embarrassing enough?”

And oh, oh: Eddie adores it when his boyfriend’s bitchy side comes out. He adores it so much.

“‘Course you can, big boy,” Eddie can’t help himself as he leans over and pecks at Steve’s cheek; Dustin scowls at them and Eddie can’t help himself, so he licks up Steve’s cheek for the disgusted grown from Dustin and the half-assed shove from Steve that doesn’t move him further away at all.

“You’re just jealous that I have a superpower,” Dustin ultimately shoots back which: okay, Eddie knows he’s capable of better than that, he’s kind of disappointed, that was so weak.

“It’s a stupid superpower,” Steve points out, plain and simple and Eddie wants to clap his hands. He. Loves. His. Bitchy. Boyfriend.

So. Much.

“Or is it a superpower for stupid?” Eddie asks, turning back to Steve like it’s a genuine question, a worthy debate.

“Naw,” Steve shakes his head, almost regretful; “he is pretty fuckin’ smart.”

“More than one kind of stupid, Stevie,” Eddie notes with due gravitas.

“Envy,” Dustin sniffs, so goddamn superior. “Green’s really not your fucking color,” and ooo, there’s a little snarl, a little sneer on his lips; “either of you.”

“I look good in green,” Steve points out, not even petulant, just factual.

“For example,” Eddie picks up and talks over Dustin’s comment like he never made one, leveling the little asshole with a pointed look:

“Some people are stupid about their tone.”

Steve doesn’t even try to cover his snort that time.

“You look good in everything, sweetheart,” Eddie takes the opportunity to comment, to sneak another kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth as he purrs; “and out.”

“Disgusting,” Dustin gags and Eddie turns to glare as he bites out:

“Tone!”

Like, way to prove Eddie’s fucking point for him, wow, the lack of self-preservation is overwhelming here.

“I’m gonna go find El,” Dustin announces, like he thinks it’s an airport; “she will be thrilled to have someone like her around—“

“Remember what I said?” Eddie turns to Steve, exaggerates the knowing look he gives; “types of dumb,” then he turns again to Dustin, and knows his look is pitying, because he fucking means for it to be.

“Telekinesis and slug-speak aren’t even in the same universe, man,” and Jesus H., Dustin looks offended at the suggestion, which.

Which.

“The overlap of telepathic—“

“Slugs, Dustin,” Steve butts in, cuts him off; “I drown those fuckers in little bowls of beer in the yard. They go in willingly,” and oh. Oh, Eddie loves his boyfriend.

Eddie loves his boyfriend so goddamn much.

Because he hadn’t even noticed the set up, the slight of hand, because Steve had overturned the can of PBR he hadn’t finished, that had gone warm anyway, and dumped it into the shallow little bowl that used to have pretzel sticks inside, low enough to, to—

“Well they won’t anymore,” Dustin declares, fucking haughty with it; “because I will tell them—“

“Yet behold, special super slug-whisperer,” Eddie gasps and gestures wide to the mat where the slug demonstration had originally taken place: “whatever do we have here?”

What they have there is the little bowl of beer, set on the slug mat.

With slugs already drowned inside.

“Probably maybe you should be smarter about where you stick your attention if you really want to save your precious children from their hoppy graves,” Eddie shrugs, and infuses his words with as much fake fucking concern as he can fit into them because slug-whispering.

Fucking honestly.

Dustin only wastes a few seconds gaping at the scene, mouth working around something—comprehension, maybe, or just some degree of shock—before he turns his eyes up and glares at them both.

“You’re evil,” he says definitively, pointing; “both of you.”

“Go see El, Super Slug,” Eddie smiles indulgently; “she’s absolutely trembling with anticipation at the arrival of an equal, I’m sure of it.”

“After all, didn’t you say,” Steve shrugs and folds his arms over his chest, looks Dustin up and down before delivering the final blow:

“You were right.”

And Dustin scowls, and Eddie cackles, because that’s his brother, that’s their brother.

“Fucking assholes,” Dustin mutters, and leaves his slug mat and the beer-bowl behind as he stomps out the door: these children really need to learn about cleaning up after themselves, even if they leave in a stompy little huff like a goddamn toddler, fucking hell: but still.

Dustin’s their brother.

Like they were ever going to let him get away with bragging about slug powers.

permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderfam #humor #fluff #established relationship #featuring brotherly banter with one mr. problematic *TONE*: dustin henderson #dustin has superpowers #(but just one really and it's very stupid) #dustin henderson #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest #stranger things #gift fic #slashify

[qprstobin]

I miss post s2 fics where the Party used to like hero worship Steve in the silliest ways. That man took a plate to the head and then went into the tunnels with them. He may have "lost" the fight but he kept on trucking they are so sure that man is invincible or some kind of Superman. Just, kid logic you know. Mike starts making NPCs that are all vaguely just Steve in different hats. None of them will be respectful to his face but that is their GUY

#the party #steve harrington #i miss soooo many things from post s2 fic #now its all the party doesnt respect steve the party cares more about xyz character who hasnt given them the time of day #steve is annoying and stupid and blah blah blah esp bc he wont play dnd with them #loved when every fic had them simulataneously trying to teach the girls and steve how to play dnd #often not doing very well #bring it back!! #stranger things #steve #walkie chatter

[peteypiessuperfamily]

Steve's been looking for the right dance partner since the 40's, Tony has years of formal dance classes from his childhood under his belt. Tony doesn't go into it expecting to be anything more than a teacher and Steve doesn't go in expecting to be anything more than a student with two left feet. It's just for the gala right?

Then the gala ends but their "lessons" don't. But hey! There's nothing gay about two grown men dancing together to romantic songs a couple days a week at set times. Nothing at all.

It takes Natasha walking in on them slow dancing weeks after the gala for them to use a single one of their braincells

#when she walks in somethin stupid is playing #as it should be #sinatra is just very steve what can I say #i hc that nat doesnt even say anything #she probably just raises an eyebrow and leaves #and thats all it takes #stony #stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #superhusbands #guy I might write a fic

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #123

The boys are idiots, endlessly failing to admit that they see each other as father and son, and Pepper and May are sick of it. After yet another day of watching this oblivious dance, they're both about ready to tear their hair out.

So, they hatch a plan.

Pepper hires May as her personal assistant / travel companion. This leaves Peter in Tony's care at the tower, while May joins Pepper in her continent-hopping reign of terror upon the business world.

As expected, by the time they return, after weeks in Italy and Japan and wherever else, Tony and Peter have fully worked out their feelings. Now, they're just nervous about revealing their newfound dad + son discovery to May and Pepper.

Their expressions when May and Pepper both look at each other and then burst out laughing - are priceless

Bonus:

It's Happy or Rhodey who realizes that, really, Pepper has had the last laugh of them all

After months of bickering with May, trying to get her to accept a high-paying job at SI and to possibly even move into the tower, Pepper has finally gotten her wish

When May realizes she's been played, she can't even be that mad about it because she's so impressed. But rest assured, when the next prank war arises, Pepper will get hers.

Never before has someone dared to prank Pepper. That rule is about to change.

#just let them be a big goofy family oh my god #irondad fic ideas #irondad fic idea #ironfam #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #peter parker #tony stark #may parker #pepper potts #irondad #spiderson #iron dad #spider son #iron man #spider-man #my guys are very smart but also so so so stupid #queueueueue #weekly reminder that I love you all but am too busy to be human :) #fic ideas still postponed but you can send asks if you want I just won't see them for a while #see announcements