#if you guys just don’t want to continue the campaign that’s fine but say so

[sayaratyriea]

i am craving Creative Activity so badly but law school sucked away my spoons to write by myself… so i’m reliant on friends and rp… and all my friends want to do is play overwatch (which i don’t play and don’t want to) or watch tv shows which is fundamentally less interesting and does not scratch the itch….. the adhd gremlins are shredding my skull from the inside out at this point :( send help

[misctf]

Welcome to the Crew

“Sir, sir!” Sebastian jumped as a man threw an arm over his shoulders, “Say hi to our viewers!” The man held out his phone, capturing Sebastian’s shocked face, “Tell us your name, sir! And what brings you out here on this fine afternoon?”

“Uh, I uh...” Sebastian replied, “Hey sorry, I don’t...”

“Just your name and what brings you out here.” The man encouraged.

“Uh Sebastian.” He said, “And, I was on a jog before my next class...”

“Give it up for Sebastian!” The man cheered, the grin never leaving his face, “I’m here with Gridiron Brew! And we have some questions for youuuu!” He continued.

Sebastian internally groaned. Of course. Some stupid influencer being asked to do live interviews for views on social media. In fact, his feed was constantly filled with new ads for Gridiron Brew. If it wasn’t so annoying, Sebastian would be impressed by their intense marketing campaign.

“I don’t think I have time.” Sebastian said politely, “I’m already kinda behind and I need to...”

“Nonsense!” The man chuckled, “Our viewers are dying to know.” His tone became serious,  “Sebastian, are you part of the Gridiron brew crew?”

“Uh, not really.” Sebastian replied awkwardly, “Not really into drinking. Gotta stay fit.”

“And fit you certainly are! Give it up for Sebastian’s abs!” He cheered, running a hand across the young man’s tight abdominals. Sebastian shuddered at the touch, “But on hot days like today, why don’t you quench your thirst with a cold one.” It was like a beer can materialized out of thin air, and the man forced it into Sebastian’s hand, “A first reaction! A live reaction! We certainly hit the jackpot!” The man continued.

Sebastian looked down at the can in his hand. It was brown- the color of a football. Some guy in old football gear was on the front. But instead of holding a football, there was a can of Gridiron brew in his hands. Sebastian looked up at the man, a little unnerved by the grin on his face, and then back down at the can.

“Go on Sebastian! Chug, chug, chug!” The man laughed, “Come on! Give him some support from back home!” He called out to his audience.

Sebastian looked down at the can and against his better judgement, cracked it open. The smell wasn’t anything special. Just like all the other cheap beers he’d come across. Easier to get this over with. And under the watchful and encouraging eye of this man, he took a sip.

“And there we have it!” The man cheered, “So Sebastian, we’re dying to know. What do you think?”

“Well it’s uh...” Really not that impressive was what he wanted to say. But instead he felt his stomach rumble, “It’s uh.... BURRRPPPPPPPPPP.” Sebastian covered his mouth.

“And there we have it folks!” The man laughed.

But Sebastian wasn’t laughing. No... His stomach felt like it was on fire. His abdomen cramping violently. The young man gripped his abs and winced at how tender they felt. Sweat was starting to coat his body and he felt woozy.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Sebastian groaned. But the man was ignoring him now. Instead spitting out some random facts and history about the brew.

But Sebastian was in agony. He was sweating profusely, falling to his knees as his abdomen lurched. He let out another belch, and yelped. Something wasn’t right. The usual firm tightness of his abdominal muscles was softening. The young man cried out as he watched his abs disappear under a thin layer of fat. Followed by another. And another. His hands gripped his new abdominal fat- a beer gut that would put any frat boy to shame. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized he could grab two large handfuls of his new unwanted gut. But it wasn’t just his abdomen. His lean pecs jutted out with both fat and muscle, sagging slightly as they sat above his new beer gut.

“Gridiron brew is for that ex-jock in you!” The man celebrated, seemingly unbothered by the struggle of the young man behind him.

Sebastian yelped again as his arms and legs followed the way of his abs and pecs. Clearly muscular, but lacking definition due to the rapidly accumulating adipose tissue. In the midst of his agony, Sebastian looked up desperately at the man, hoping for some relief.

“Pl-pleeeeasseeee broooooo.” He begged, his voice cracking and becoming deeper.

He yelped as he felt a warmth fill his balls and spread throughout the rest of his body. This surge of testosterone stimulated hair follicles- both old and new- to help carpet the young man in a blanket of musky body hair. Sebastian watched in horror as his pubes poked out from his running shorts, before a dense treasure trail rapidly climbed his pudgy beer gut. As it did, hairs along his stomach grew out. And when it reached his chest- the hairs exploded across it. He ran a hand across his hairy chest, a mixture of disgust and longing for his clean-shaven form, as well as a strange unwanted pride for his newfound manliness.

“You may not be able to relive the glory days,” The man continued as he spoke to his audience, “But with Gridiron Brew, you wouldn’t even want to!”

Sebastian moaned as his face filled with some extra fat, before his chin and cheeks were covered up by a dark beard. When the dark follicles reached his wavy blond locks, they quickly transitioned to take on the same dark hue as his body hair and beard. And moreover, his hair shortened as he aged. Years of his life removed in just an instant until he was in his late 20s. Sebastian sat stunned as the pain and discomfort started to subside. He looked up at the man, who had finally turned and looked down at him.

“Seb here used to be a linebacker in college!” The man announced, “But now he gets his rush from the cool, refreshing taste of Gridiron Brew!”

But Sebastian was still in college, right? He never played football. Well, maybe he had a few lessons, right? Well not a few- his dad was really into it. They watched games growing up, throwing the ol’ pigskin in the backyard. Years went by practicing with his bros and making varsity. Fucking got into college on a scholarship. But that was forever ago, right? He was... he was... Seb smirked and hoisted himself up, grabbing another can of Gridiron Brew from the man. A smirk formed on his face and he slapped his beer gut, which jiggled for the world to see.

“Fuck yeah, bros!” Seb celebrated, chugging the can of beer, “This shit will get you where you need to be.” He grinned, “I’ll be at the stadium tomorrow celebrating, I expect to see my Gridiron brew crew there!” The man grinned and watched as Seb walked off, unaware of the life stolen from him. Doomed to live his life as a forever-frat bro, reliving his glory days on the sidelines, while drinking his new favorite brew.

“Well there we have it folks!” The man grinned, turning back to his phone, “Get yours in stores while supplies last! And welcome to the Gridiron brew crew!”

[carolmunson]

alive with the glory of love

(older!rockstar!eddie x older!actress!wife!)

a valentine's slice of life with our favorite rockstar almost thirty years into our marriage. the year is 2023 and we're still stella rink and we're still famous as hell. aged like fine wine. a decades long career and a decades long marriage with two twins in their late twenties. this is semi from the twins perspective. we know what our life was looking like before, let's see what it looks like now. :) eddie manip by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple cw: 18+ minors dni, allusions to smut/wearing lingerie, but overall this is a short little something. reader and eddie are both 57, so, sorry if you don't want to be fifty seven. but if i have to be in my 'early twenties' every time i read a fic, you can be older for like, seven and a half minutes.

The phone eases into focus, Violet’s giggle sounds as she presses record, leaning on her elbows at the kitchen island. The room is a sun drenched, black and white tiled vision — still partially stuck in the 90s, remnants of your old life, despite the ongoing renovations. Despite the teasing from your adult children. Some stuff just never lost its charm – plus, the kids were calling it ‘a 90s vibe’ and you were both pretty sure that was cool. 

“Morning, happy Valentine’s Day,” Violet says sleepily, Van trudging in behind her. They both take lazy seats on the bar stools across from the chef stove that their father is delicately working over. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey,” Eddie calls over his shoulder, daintily pouring pink batter into a cookie cutter mold on a hot pan. The kitchen and dining room are filled to the brim with flowers and balloons. Eddie’s been up for hours getting everything set up for you, some things never change. Some things never get old. 

“What’re you doing?” Van asks. 

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m making mommy—” He turns around with a furrowed brow, deepening his forehead creases before he realizes they’re recording him. He sighs before turning back to his task, “Guys, again with the phone?” 

“C’mon dad, they love you!” Violet begs, putting her phone down and shoving it in her sweatshirt pocket, “Van show him the comments on the last one.” 

“They think you’re hilarious, they want you to have your own account,” Van encourages, he opens his own phone to bring over to his dad. He grew up to be a spitting image of the two of you, as if they pasted Eddie’s face on his and gave him all your other features. The color of your eyes, the texture of your hair. Your bright, enrapturing smile. A perfect fifty-fifty. 

Van scrolls slowly through the endless comments, Eddie squinting down at them, “Van, I don’t have my glasses.” 

Eddie peers down lower, “What does that mean? ‘I know it’s big’? What’s big?” “New…choker…just…dropped? I didn’t make chokers for merch,” he shrugs, waving him away to pay attention to the stove. “Ew,” Violet laughs, “Stop making him read these out loud, that’s so gross.” 

“You should still make your own,” Van says, sitting back down, “It’d do way better than the one for Corroded.” 

“Have your mom do it,” Ed shrugs off, “She knows how to do all that internet shit.” 

“That Howard Stern clip is going viral again,” Violet says devilishly, “The girlies are obsessed with you.” 

“I don’t care about the girlies, Vi,” Eddie blushes, flipping one of the pancakes on the pan, “I care about your mom.” 

“I just wanna show them what you guys do for your favorite holiday,” Violet whines, “They’ll love it.” 

“They’re gonna call him a simp,” Van teases, a look of realization washing over his face,  “Wait, you’re such a simp for mom, actually.”  

They both laugh, Eddie doesn’t know what ‘a simp’ is so he laughs too.

“That’s a good word for like, a DND character type — you should see about that in your campaigns,” Ed continues while he plates a pancake on an ever growing stack of pink and red. 

“Ohmygod Dad, no, that’s not—“ Van laughs silently into his hands. 

“Stop making fun of him, he’s old,” Violet pleads between giggles, taking her phone out again, “Dad, seriously can you just tell us what you’re doing? Why do you love Valentine’s Day?”

“Is this for your TikTok thing?” he asks, pulling his dark curls up in a ponytail with a black silk scrunchie, bangs he can’t quite part with falling in waves over his brow. ‘My Pilates teacher was telling me they’ll be safer on your hair,’ you’d said — and he’s never been one to say no to you. Every time the kids came home they’d take their phones out and make Tiktok’s of the two of you, sometimes you’d make a solo one for Violet or Van’s page if you felt like it. But with Twitter and Instagram, you didn’t want to overload your assistant with some other form of social media – but it looked like the two of you were really popular. Especially Eddie. 

Violet educated you about ‘fancams’ which were just clips to music. There were a lot of the two of you together, or you solo from your movies and shows in the 90s. Progressions of you then and now and how you’re still ‘so hot’ and ‘unproblematic’. Eddie’s almost always started with the clip of him at Howard Stern, jaw ticking while he tried to keep his composure: ‘Excuse the fuck out of me, what did you just say about my wife? Do you wanna lose your fuckin’ teeth?’ The comments were always flooded with a mess of young people losing their shit: ‘god i’ve seen what you’ve done for others’ ‘stopppp he’s obsessed with her’ ‘@vidawn i hope your mom can fight’ ‘@vannywayne @vidawn i’m five years younger than u but i would be a great step dad’ ‘when is someone gonna fight howard stern FOR ME?’ ‘@vannywayne @vidawn they’re thirsting over your dad again’ ‘i’m banging on the walls of my enclosure’ 'ewwww we hate cheaters' ‘i NEED to fuck him’ ‘@vannywayne you look EXACTLY the same’ ‘are they looking for a third?’ 'idgi he looks dirty' ‘they are notttttt making them like him anymore’ ‘not him being old enough to be my father i’m sick’

“Obviously,” she snaps back, rolling his eyes when he starts touching himself up for the camera. 

“Should I do a couple of push ups so I look buff or…?” he teases. Violet and Van make a face that puts any face you’ve given him to shame. It’s the only regret he has about having kids with you – all that attitude had to go somewhere. 

“Fine, fine,” he huffs, “I’m ready for my close up, Vi.” 

“You’re so cheesy, dad. Just be normal for like, five seconds,” Violet huffs, taking out her phone again, “You’re ready?” 

“M’ready,” he smiles. “Okay, so, what’re you doing?” Violet asks again. 

“I am making pancakes,” he starts, pouring red better into the cookie cutter mold on the pan this time, “In a heart shape, for your mom.” 

“How long have you been doing this?” she asks, a smile spreading across her face. It matches her dads. There was no mistaking that Violet was Eddie Munson’s daughter. 

“Since we got together, so – the first one was in 1990,” he muttered, flipping the pancake, “I do it every year ‘cause she loves it. They’re strawberry, but they’re pink and red ‘cause I put food coloring in them.” 

“Is Valentine’s Day her favorite holiday?” 

Eddie grins, “No, her favorite holiday is the fourth of July. Not ‘cause she’s got a boner for America or anything. She just likes fireworks and when I use the grill.” “Is it your favorite holiday?” Van asks this time. Eddie nods, a bright blush pushing up on his face. 

“How come?” Violet and Van ask at the same time. Eddie turns the burner off, placing the heaping plate of heart shaped pancakes on the center of the island. He opens the wine cooler on the opposite wall, pulling out a bottle of champagne and two flutes from the top cabinet.

“‘Cause I get to spoil your mom all day,” he smiles, “She deserves it.” 

“You spoil her every day,” Van teases, “I can’t think of a more doted on woman on earth than mom.” 

“She’s very special,” he shrugs. 

“And you do this every year?” Violet asks, zooming in on the pancakes. 

“Every year for the past thirty four years, well, minus ninety-two,” he frowns a little, “We had some time apart that year.” 

“Still had my chef make them for me though.” 

Your voice cuts in from the large arch way connecting to the dining room and Violet pans quickly over to get you in frame. 

“Hi mom,” Vi says, “Is this your favorite holiday?” 

“No,” you shake your head and laugh, the same laugh he fell in love with, “It’s the fourth of July. C’mon Vi, how long have I been your mom? Do you even know me?” “You’re supposed to be in bed, honey,” Eddie frowns, “You’re ruining the surprise.” 

“The surprise that’s older than my kids? How could I forget,” you grin, rounding the island and greeting your husband with a gentle kiss, “Happy Valentine’s day.” 

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby,” he murmurs into a second chaste peck, “You’re supposed to let me bring them up to you.” 

“My kids are home, I don’t wanna spend all day in bed,” you pout. He pouts back dramatically, tugging on your arm to pull you flush against his chest. 

“I thought you loved spending all day in bed with me,” he pushes some of your hair back before resting a palm on your cheek, moving in to kiss you deeply. The scruff on his chin scratches around your mouth but you never care because he still kisses you, he kisses you every day. He’d kiss you all day if you let him. You had too many girlfriends whose ex-husbands were on their third wife and every year they’re more surprised that Eddie is still on his first.

“Okay, I think that’s our cue to leave,” Van says, Violet stops recording. Their faces sour.  

“Yeah we don’t want a January ‘94 repeat or anything,” Vi jokes. The twins high five at their own mean reference to your horrific sex tape debacle, but you and Eddie toss them a playful glare. 

“Hey, she might be your mother, but she’s my wife,” Eddie warns, hand sneaking down to rest on the small of your back to pull you close to him, “Don’t mess with her.” 

“Yeah,” you tease, crossing your arms, “You saw what he did to Howie’s studio. I just gotta say the word.” 

“So scary,” Violet rolls her eyes, leaving the kitchen with her twin in tow, “We’re taking the Jeep to get Jamba Juice, do you want anything?” 

“My usual,” you answer while Eddie goes to the fridge to get grapefruit juice out of the fridge, “And get daddy’s usual too. Do you want his card? Where’s your card, hun?”

“Wherever you last left it,” he responds, gracefully pouring grapefruit mimosas for the both of you. 

“It’s in my purse,” you call out. 

“Which one?!” Violet calls back, both of them waiting by the door. 

“The pink Kelly!” 

“Got it! Do you want anything else?” Van calls out. 

“Just uh,” Eddie giggles to himself, tossing you a once over, “Take your time!” 

“Gross!” they yell back in unison. Eddie waits for the door to close to pull you back into him, he watches you at first. Brown eyes cascading over the slope of your nose, your cheeks, the crinkles at the edge of your eyes, your smile lines. He looks at you like he’s looking at you for the first time, every time. He looks different, but the same. Dark curls smattered and entwined in silver, a nose ring, a never ending scratch of overgrown stubble. Deep lines on his forehead that exaggerate his already animated features. Lips still full and warm, hands still big and covered in rings. He’s kept his body real tight for fifty-seven, still throwing himself in the gym daily. ‘If I’m gonna be addicted to something now it might as well be like, my cardiovascular health, babe.’ His crows feet make him somehow more attractive, his smile got better with age. He still makes your heart race when he catches your eye from across the room. “You wearing that little red thing I like?” he purrs in your ear. The tie to your robe sliding between his inked fingers.

“Maybe,” your finger trails over a tattoo on his bicep, “Maybe, I got something new for you to see. Maybe it’s black, maybe it’s strappy. Maybe it’s that thing you saw when we went shopping last week.” 

“Christ,” he huffs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping back over to the counter, “Do you ever stop getting hotter? Eat your breakfast before I bend you over this bar stool.” 

“Let’s bring it upstairs like you wanted,” you smile, following him closely to press your hips up against him, “We can get a little messy.” 

“Yeah?” he growls, pushing part of your robe away to see a peek of black lace and strappy leather, “Fucking god, Stell.” 

“C’mon,” you whisper breathily, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, “They’ll be home soon.” 

Some things have changed, some things remain the same. He still fucks you like a rockstar.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for setting a boundary on a Minecraft server that I didn’t want to interact with one of the admins after he quit my partner’s dnd campaign?

I (20, nonbinary) was on a lgbtq+ discord and had become friends with a trans guy (henceforth referred to as A) who was a minor. This was easy to forget as he made raunchy jokes, got drunk and high on call, and I have horrible memory issues (so I often opt to just remember people’s names and topics I should avoid around them via making little notes.)

We would very often end up in a vc together with others from the server, including our respective partners, chilling, playing games, sharing fun things we found. (His partner will henceforth be referred to as B, and mine as C) (I had known his partner before from another server and was happy to see them getting along then eventually getting together)

(C especially would always give advice like “if you’re drinking, make sure to eat/get some carbs, drinking on an empty stomach is bad!” Because they love researching medical effects to make their writing and worldbuilding feel more realistic)

There were a handful of incidents where I believe I was the asshole

I loved showing off games and musicals to people, and this has the unfortunate effect of sometimes unintentionally saying words that anger people.

Incident 1) I was playing a game and mindlessly saying location names- and I got a dm- I pause to glance at it- and I got a message saying “hey remember [redacted] is A’s deadname and he’s uncomfortable that you keep saying it”. I pause, make a mental note of “but. It. Wasn’t directed at him?” Then continue playing, dodging saying the name for the rest of my time showing the game.

Incident 2) I was showing off a musical I like- and there’s a cute scene where a character suggests a name for another character, saying that they don’t need it anymore, and it just so happened to be A’s deadname again.

Incident 3) I was playing Sea of Thieves solo- and struggling. I’d been hit by lightning, and now was being attacked by a shark. A and B were making fun of the fact I had slipped into an accent out of sheer panic so I (enraged and not thinking at all) said “I’ll name the damn shark after you, fillet and gut it!” (A really likes sharks. I also like sharks but apparently not as much as him)

(I apologized for this on call later, saying that I was emotional and mad, and if I’d been thinking I wouldn’t have said that. I also apologized for the previous incident about the deadname)

A and B had also joined C’s dnd campaign alongside another one of our mutual friends, D (who did not leave the campaign, but that’s not important right now). I have reason to believe C told the others they couldn’t be either of the two classes I said my character thought they were, but I don’t know. Things went great (or so I thought) we got some plot trails (one connected to the race of my character, one being D’s character’s family) and everything seemed fine- A was flirting with a lot of the enemies and NPCS (C found the character arts via google images and unfortunately ‘attractive’ seems to be a main character design commonality)

Then one day, I woke up to check the campaign discord because of a ping and noticed both A and B had left the server and there was no new messages- confused, I hopped into call with C- who explained that A had dropped a long list of accusations about Myself and C, essentially insulting us and accusing us of things like ‘sending NSFW things to kids’, ‘acting like the victim’, ‘naming a character A’s deadname’, ‘DM favouritism’, and a whole bunch of other things. I was- shocked.

(A also apparently messaged D and said something like “sorry for ending the campaign like that, if you want to use your character you can always write with me!” And got angry when D said they didn’t leave the campaign.)

(C is also a generally sex-repulsed Asexual. They were forcing themself to become more comfortable with it because of A’s raunchy jokes)

This was followed by some harassment from A and B.

A tried publicly calling out C on social media (which C had only used to make a single post sharing something they had made for someone’s art/design) for “sending nsfw things to minors” and on another platform for “being a fake ass bitch”, as well as both of them heckling a new haircut I’d been nervous but excited to try and get for years and just figured out how to ask for (responses such as “omg no ew why would you do that”), as well as A saying “no I don’t” a picture I shared of C and I going to see a musical together with the caption “you wish you were here!” (All were shared and reacted to publicly on the discord server)

(To be fair about the haircut- the stylist had cut part of it a little too short and it made my face look especially chubby)

This is where I start to feel less like the asshole

So I went on the discord for the Minecraft server and said “hey, I don’t feel comfortable interacting with A after the allegations they’ve been making”. A immediately got defensive and angry about me saying “allegations” and kicked me from the discord before I could defend myself (and C).

I explained the situation to the admin of the server we’d met on, who also owned the Minecraft server, and apologized to them that they had to moderate. Both A and I lost our mod privileges on the discord, and I also found out A had been given multiple “cease and desist”s for… saying/sharing vulgar/nearly nsfw things on the discord before. And they did it again. The reason they were never banned or kicked was that the admin had made it in hopes that A would make friends.

Now. To a part that still horrifies me.

A legitimately found out C’s mom’s number, and called her to insist that C sent NSFW things to minors. (C suspects that they got it from a time C called the police out of genuine concern for A who hadn’t responded to any messages in around a day)

C also told me that the most they had sent A was like. Attractive anime guys from the first page of google images because C really liked big anime man chests. A apparently sent C full on p*rn once.

The problem is- I feel like I was the asshole- even though most of the “incidents” were accidents because I try to not remember someone’s deadname because- it’s? Not their name anymore? And it didn’t help that I genuinely do not remember being told it was their deadname until after incident 1.

Was I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[artiststarme]

Where's The "Talk"?

Based on a prompt from @samcoxramblings. I hope this meets your expectations! Please leave your thoughts in the comments and if you have any more angsty prompts, send them my way!

~*~*~*~

After coming out to the Party, Eddie and Steve were on their toes for days just waiting for someone to give them the ‘Talk’. They were amped up, prepared to receive loads of various threats ranging in creativity and snipe. But the days came and went and no one mentioned anything. Anytime Eddie would mention expecting a shovel talk to protect their babysitter, the kids awkwardly looked between one another before changing the subject. When Steve mentioned to Robin and Nancy that no one had warned him against hurting Eddie yet, they just rolled their eyes and ignored him. Neither man knew what the Party was waiting for. 

After a week, Eddie loses his patience and asks the kids at their Hellfire session. “Okay guys, what gives? Where are the outlandish threats of violence, the creative insults about my character, the whole shabang? I’ve been on the edge of my seat for fucking days.”

“Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?” Dustin asked him, sounding puzzled. 

Eddie snorted a sound of frustration. “The shovel talk! Steve and I told you that we were dating a week ago and no one has said anything! Is this a gay thing? Are you too scared of being homophobic to say anything? I can take it!”

The kids looked uncomfortable but Mike spoke. “Look man, we just don’t want to waste our time. You and Steve aren’t going to last. I mean, look how different you guys are! You’re awesome, you DM for Hellfire, and you’re in a band. What does Steve do? He works at Family Video all day and sure, he looks kinda good without a shirt on, but he has nothing else going for him!”

Lucas and Dustin looked at him in confusion before Dustin cleared his throat. “Eddie, we know you’re not going to hurt each other. You’re both our big brothers and you’re not actually dating. Steve likes girls! I’m sure he’s just looking for a way to let you down easy. I’m sorry, man.”

Meanwhile, Eddie looked at them indifferently. He couldn’t believe that these little assholes would say that to him and at a DnD session no less! He whipped his head to look at the original Hellfire members only to find Gareth, Jeff, and Grant looking shellshocked. 

“Do you boys feel the same way?” He asked them, his eyes flashing dangerously. 

Jeff shook his head slightly, “no way, man. We just don’t know Steve well enough to give him a talk. You know we’ve always supported you, if you want us to threaten him a little, we can.”

“Yeah, we’ll threaten the socks off of him!” Grant nodded. Gareth though just continued glaring at the kids.

Eddie nodded, it seemed there was a division of true friends and posers around the table. If his little sheep didn’t want to believe he and Steve would last, he’d show them. He and Steve were for life. Eddie was like a parasite, a viral STD if you will. Once you got him, you were stuck with him forever.

“Well, thank you for sharing your opinion. Does anyone else feel that way?” He asked them. Did the rest of the Party share the same views? He desperately needed to know. 

Lucas nodded slowly, “well, yeah. Hopper says you guys are only seeing each other because you’re trauma-bonded and Robin said that it doesn’t mean anything anyways.”

Eddie chuckled sardonically. Oh so, the entire Party was against them? Fine, he didn’t need to be a part of the group that tore his life apart anyways. 

“Alright, Hellfire’s disbanded. Get your stuff and get out. Corroded Coffin, we’ll continue the campaign as a three-piece on Thursday before band practice. I’m going to go see Steve, the guy I’m in a relationship with. You know, the one that ‘doesn’t mean anything’ since we’re ‘too different’ and ‘trauma-bonded’ and ‘waiting to get let down easy’? Go fuck yourself and fuck your precious Party too.” And with that, Eddie stormed out. 

He drove straight to Family Video and was ashamed to find that frustrated tears had started leaking from his eyes. He couldn’t believe this. After all they’d gone through together with the Upside Down and psychic killers and murder accusations, being in a relationship with Steve was the tipping point? Absolutely ridiculous. He darted into the video store and didn’t even slow his stride as he threw his arms around Steve where he was talking to a customer. 

“What the- Eddie? Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He asked him before turning back to the customer. “I’m sorry, could you talk to Robin over at the counter please? Have a nice day.”

Steve gently herded him into the employee lounge and pressed his teary face into the crook of his neck. “Eds, hey, what happened?”

“I’m so sorry, Stevie. I never should’ve said anything!”

“About what? What’s going on? Weren’t you supposed to be playing DnD today with the kids today?” Steve asked him. He wiped the tears from underneath Eddie’s eyes and rested a hand on the back of his neck for comfort.

“I asked the kids why we hadn’t gotten a shovel talk from anyone yet before we even started. They said that no one in the Party thinks we’re going to last. Hopper thinks we’re trauma-bonded, Mike doesn’t think we’re fucking compatible, Dustin thinks you’re faking it, and Robin thinks we’re not serious. They’re not interested in ‘wasting their time’ giving us a talk.”

Steve blinked in surprise before his face hardened. “We don’t need their acceptance or their approval. We know they’re wrong and that’s what matters. We don’t even need a talk from them. Fuck ‘em! We can give ourselves a shovel talk if our good-for-nothing-friends can’t do it!”

“Steve-” 

“I’m serious, who gives a shit about their opinions? Who are they to judge? Dustin’s dating a girl over the radio that lives in goddamn Utah or some shit. Lucas can’t judge because Max broke up with him again for like the tenth time this month. Mike’s only girlfriend was a girl he found in the woods that didn’t know any better than to date him. Robin’s never even been in a relationship so she can’t judge us for having one. And Hopper is 100% going to be in the doghouse after I tell Joyce about what he said. Fuck what they have to say.”

“But Stevie, how are we going to give one to ourselves? That doesn’t even make sense,” Eddie told him gently.

“Fine, then we’ll give one to each other. Eddie, if you break my heart, I’m going to give Wayne adoption papers and take your last name whether you want me to or not.”

Eddie sputtered, “what the fuck? What kind of talk is that? You’re supposed to threaten me with physical harm, not whatever mindfuckery that was!”

“Don’t belittle my shovel talk! Like you could do any better,” Steve scoffed at him.

“Oh yeah? Steve, if you break my heart then I’m going to break your kneecaps so you can’t leave until I win you back. And if I break your heart, I’m going to finish what the bats started.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie! Are you okay? That’s fucking violent!” Steve yelled.

“That’s the point!” Eddie screamed back.

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is, you’re supposed to threaten to hide the body with a shovel,” Eddie said like it was obvious. 

“Dingus, stop talking to Eddie and get back to work. We have a line,” Robin said exasperatedly, poking her head into the back room. 

“We’re giving each other shovel talks since you losers wouldn’t do it. You know, since this means something. I’ll be out when we’re done with that,” Steve told her bitchily. 

“Fuck off Buckley,” Eddie hissed venomously. Robin looked shocked at his mutiny but backed away regardless. 

Steve stared at the door for a moment but Eddie drew his attention back to himself with a whispered, “if you don’t hurt me, I’ll help you hide a body.”

Steve cackled and murmured back, “you already were accused of murder once, you need to stop being so violent!”

They continue to date until marriage is legalized in the state of Illinois, where they move shortly after they deliver their truly remarkable shovel talks. As payback, they get a marriage certificate at the courthouse and don’t invite anyone from the Party to act as witnesses. Instead, Uncle Wayne, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant surround them and hear the clerk declare them husbands. 

(Hopper and the rest of the Party find out at Christmas that year and everyone loses their shit in synchrony. They all learn a valuable lesson that day that Eddie Munson holds the meanest of grudges.)

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[mattalit]

Will Byers x Male Reader

A/N: i can’t stand wattpad anymore so i’m moving the stories i actually like here lol

Length: 1.1 k

Originally Published: July 30, 2019

CW: mild homophobia

The phone rings and grabs the attention of Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair away from the Dungeon and Dragons game Will had waited so, so long to play.

"No!" Will jumps up and smashes the end of his staff on the ground. "A distraction! Do not answer it."

Mike and Lucas look at each other, then both jump up and head straight for the phone. Mike reaches it first.

"El?"

Will is visibly disappointed; his face and shoulders droop and he lets out an exasperated sigh. (M/N) gets up from his seat and stretches before putting his arm around Will.

"We can play later, man. They're no fun when they're preoccupied," (M/N) states. Will says nothing.

"No-- sorry, not interested," Mike says into the phone before hanging up and turning around. He lets out a breath of air and rolls his eyes. "Telemarketers."

"Maybe you should just call them," Lucas suggested.

"You can do that?"

"I think so."

"Yeah, but-- what would we say?"

"We'll say nothing!" Will interjects, smashing the end of his staff into the floor again. "The Kuzar Tribe still needs your help!" He motions to the table where the now abandoned D&D games sits.

"Yeah, come on, fellas, we haven't played in weeks," (M/N) adds, slowly moving his arm from Will's shoulders and absent-mindedly scratching light circles into his back. Will glances at him, but his attention is back to Mike when he begins speaking.

"Alright then," Mike responds, and off-handedly motions towards the table, "I'll use my torch to set fire to the chambers, sacrificing ourselves, killing the JuJus, and saving Kuzar. We all live on as heroes in the memory of the Kalamar."

"Victory," Lucas says, uninterested. He puts his hand up and Mike high-fives him.

"Okay," Will pulls out of (M/N)'s grasp and turns around, "Fine." He roughly shoves his staff into a chair and rips his hat off. "You guys win." He turns off the dramatic music. "Congratulations."

"Will... we were just messing around."

Will takes off his purple wizard cloak and sets it down. (M/N) looks over at him, but doesn't say anything.

"Let's finish for real," Mike continues. "How much longer is the game?"

"Just forget it, Mike!" Will continues packing up his stuff.

"Will..." (M/N) calls out silently. Will does not respond.

Mike tries for peace, again-- "We want to keep playing, right?" He motions towards Lucas.

"Uh, yeah, totally," Lucas stammers out.

"We can call the girls afterwards."

"I said FORGET IT, Mike, okay?" Will yells, turning towards him. Mike looks back at him, but doesn't respond. "I'm going home." Will heads towards the stairs.

"Come on, Will!" Will shoves past Lucas and exits up the stairs.

It's quiet for a moment, then (M/N) sighs and follows after him. "Good job, guys," he murmurs as he passes Lucas and Mike.

Lucas sighs in exasperation and sits down. Mike follows Will and (M/N).

The rain pours heavily onto the ground as Will, (M/N), and Mike exit the front door.

"Will, come on," Mike pleads. "You can't leave, it's raining."

Will doesn't respond.

"Listen, I said I was sorry, alright? It's a cool campaign--"

"Really cool!" (M/N) adds.

"--we're just not in the mood right now."

Will turns around. "Yeah, Mike, that's the problem. You guys are never in the mood anymore. You're ruining our party."

"That's not true!"

"Really? Where's Dustin right now?" Mike looks away guiltily and doesn't respond. "See? You don't know, and you don't even care, and obviously he doesn't either, and I don't blame him. You're destroying everything! And for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?"

"El is not stupid! It's not my fault you don't like girls!" Mike retorts.

The change in atmosphere was instantaneous. The cold realization of just what Mike had said seeped into each teen. It was silent.

Will stared at Mike, his facial expression unreadable. Mike stared back.

"Look... I'm not trying to be a jerk, okay?" Mike's voice had softened. "But we're not kids anymore. I mean-- what did you think? That we were never going to get girlfriends? That we were just going to sit in my basement and play games for the rest of our lives?"

"Yeah," Will sniffs, "Maybe I did. I really did."

Will hops onto his bike and takes off down the road. (M/N) scrambles towards his bike.

"Nice going, Wheeler. Mentioning the thing he's sensitive about." (M/N) takes off after Will.

"Will? (M/N)? Guys, come on!" Mike calls after them.

By the time (M/N) had caught up with Will, both Will and him were soaked.

"Will?" (M/N) called out, approaching Will's fort in the woods.

"What do you want?" a small voice called out from the fort.

(M/N) didn't respond, instead choosing to enter the fort. He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and sat down next to Will. All was quiet, except for the pouring rain.

"Do you want to talk about it?" (M/N) asked quietly, looking over to his friend. Will shook his head no. (M/N) scooted closer, and whispered. "Do you want a hug?" Will hesitated, but nodded.

(M/N), despite being soaked, wrapped an arm around the smaller boy's frame and pulled him close. Will responded by leaning his head onto his shoulder.

Will looked down at the photos in his hand, but threw them into a corner of the fort, soon forgotten.

"You know Mike and Lucas didn't mean to make you upset, yeah?" (M/N) murmured, rubbing Will's arm soothingly and leaning his head on top of Will's.

"I know," Will mumbled back.

"You didn't do anything wrong, either."

"I know." Will snuggled closer into the boy next to him. "I did't think he'd bring it up, though," he mumbled.

"Bring what up?"

"That I... y'know... don't like girls."

"I mean, it's not his fault you don't like girls, but it's not yours either. There was no reason for him to bring it up," (M/N) responded. "Honestly-- the audacity..." (M/N) paused. "But on the topic of that, I suppose there's something I should tell you."

Will waited for (M/N) to finish, but he never did. Will pulled back and made eye contact with (M/N).

"(M/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you going to tell me?"

"Will..." (M/N) paused again. He crawled towards to him, pushing him slowly towards the ground and straddling him. "I..." He mumbled something.

"What?" Will asked, breathlessly. He had never been this close to another boy before.

(M/N) leaned down to his ear and whispered. "I don't like girls, either."

Will could feel (M/N)'s breath on his neck, and he could feel it leave his neck when (M/N) leaned back. He sat up quickly, almost smacking his head against (M/N)'s.

"(M/N)," he called out softly.

"Will," (M/N) whispered, eyeing his lips.

"I think I like you."

(M/N) smiled lightly and cupped Will's face with his hands. He leaned in slowly, watching as Will, mesmerized, followed his lead. "Can I kiss you, Will?"

Will nodded breathlessly, his eye lids fluttering close. (M/N) closed his eyes and met Will's lips with his own.

[sleepyeye17]

Finished DnD WIP

Read on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44604331

Or read it all here.

“Eddie the Banished is encased in ice from the shoulders down,” Will says. “The cure is behind the gate, but the gate is blocked by an enormous drooling Cerberus! What do you do, Sir Steve?”

“Um. Doesn’t Eddie have a magic flute? Can I take his magic flute?”

“You are a warlock, so yes, you are able to take Eddie’s fey flute.”

“I allow Sir Steve to take the fey flute,” Eddie says. “As the ice slowly chokes me I say, ‘ play… the faerie… charm …’”

“Eddie the Banished presents you with a fey flute,” Will says. “What do you do?”

Steve thinks on this seriously. Eddie loves how intent Steve is. When Dustin had first invited Steve to play, Eddie had worried that Steve might not take it seriously, or even make fun of Will's campaign. So far, though, he was one of the most invested people in the group.

“I… Well, I go over. I take the flute from Eddie's bag, and I finger it.”

A roar of dissent rises from the group. Eddie turns bright red and immediately pulls his shirt over his face to hide his blush. Steve looks around innocently.

“What? That’s what I do.”

“Please never say that again,” Dustin says.

“Say what? Flute?”

“ Finger! ”

“Oh my god, get your mind out of the gutter, Dustin. That’s what you do with a flute. You finger it!”

Lucas claps his hands over his ears.

“Don’t say finger!”

“I WANT TO FINGER EDDIE’S FAIRY FLUTE,” Steve shouts. “THAT’S MY ACTION. I FINGER IT.”

Eddie is doubled over, his head in his arms, his T-shirt still pulled up around his face.

“You broke Eddie,” Will says.

Eddie lifts his head out from his T-shirt, gasping, and wipes his eyes.

“New rule,” Will says, grinning. “From now on, Steve is not allowed to use the word finger .”

“What, ever?”

“Not in my campaign, no.”

“Is that allowed?” He gestures to the massive binder that Erica keeps in case of an argument. “Is that in the rule binder?”

“Yes, Steve,” Erica says. “On page 152, it says that the Dungeon Master can forbid any player from saying any word.”

Steve blinks at Erica, pretty sure that she’s fucking with him, but not willing to take the bate.

“Fine,” he says. “I won’t use that word. Keep going. I start to play the flute.”

“Roll Charisma Persuasion.”

Steve rolls, and Will leans in to see the number.

“The Cerberus falls asleep!” Will says. Steve beams.

“There’s a hole in the wall," Will continues, "And stoppering up the hole is a tiny little beaker. And in the beaker is a glowing fluid, emanating this beautiful golden light. You know that it contains the antidote.”

“I do?” Steve asks. “How do I know?”

“Because I just told you,” Will said.

“And how do you know?”

“Because I’m an omniscient narrator.”

“Oh. Right. Well, can I pull it out of the wall?”

“Is that what you choose to do?”

Steve blinks around at the other members of Hellfire, who are all shaking their heads. He shrugs.

“Yeah, I’ll pull it out, and, uh. I go over to Eddie. And I pour my fluid down his throat.”

The group roars in protest again and Steve sighs.

“I was really trying to keep it innocent that time, guys!”

“ Fluid is also on Steve’s banned word list,” Erica says.

“Will literally used the word fluid to describe it!”

Will waits for everyone to calm down before continuing.

“You tug the beaker out of the wall and undo the cork. You hurriedly run over to Eddie the Banished and empty antidote into his mouth. The ice melts! Eddie is free!”

“YES!” Eddie jumps up and pumps his fists. “I’m free!”

“As you celebrate, however, you hear the sound of running water. You turn to see that the beaker had been stoppering up a hole in what is actually a sea-wall. And that hole is quickly spewing water into the room!”

“Fuck,” Eddie says. “Um, how about the door we came in through?”

“The Cerberus has awoken,” Will says, “And he is now blocking that door.”

“I’m going to pick up the flute,” Eddie says. “I start to play.” He turns to Steve. “ That’s what you do with a flute. You play it .”

“Roll a charisma persuasion,” Will says.

Eddie rolls.

“Damn! It’s almost enough.”

“You start to play the flute. The Cerberus starts to get sleepy, but not sleepy enough. Water is now up to your ankles. Sir Steve? What do you do?”

“Um. I need to buy us time. I need to stopper up the hole, right? So I put my…” Steve looks down at his hands. “I put my… tip… in the hole.”

The room explodes. It’s impossible to continue.

“OH MY GOD!”

“OF ALL THE WAYS TO PHRASE IT—“

“WHY, STEVE? WHY?”

Steve throws up his hands.

“YOU TOLD ME NOT TO SAY FINGER!”

Eddie stands up and walks out of the room.

[writingwhimsey]

All's Fair In Love & War- Nobunaga Ch. 21

Chapter 21

It was only a couple of days later, I was in the garden after a council, doing some exercises with my shoulder. The wound had closed up and now it was all about trying to get full range of motion back. I had a practice sword in hand, swinging it around. Yes, I was right-handed, but typically my sword required both arms, not to mention I liked to be able to use my left should my right arm become injured in some way.

I needed to get my arm back up to full strength. We were planning to start the next campaign in Nobunaga’s unification. We would be heading out in two weeks and I needed to be at my best so I could fight at his side.

“Need a sparring partner?”

I turned as I saw Masamune coming out of the castle. “Sure.” I answered. “If you can keep up that is.”

“Oh, a confident lass.” Masamune said with a grin. “Don’t worry I’ll have you and your arm trained back up in no time.”

“Of course, I’m confident. I take names and kick ass.” I replied, grinning.

Masamune grinned as he grabbed an extra practice sword and came to stand across from me. “You know, I’ve seen you in action and I have to say I have been hoping to squeeze in a match with you.” He was then charging at me.

I blocked the blow and with effort pushed him back. We continued our sparring match, both of us attacking, blocking, and redirecting, but neither of us able to land a blow on the other. My shoulder was aching and burning while I stood panting and sweating. Masamune was definitely a tougher opponent than most I had faced. It was a rather nice challenge. Granted I was probably pushing myself farther than I should have, but I needed to be at my best.

“Looks like we’ve drawn a crowd.” Masamune said with a chuckle as he stood across from me panting and sweating as well.

I glanced over and saw my vassals as well as Nobunaga and the others all watching us. Though that quick glance was all I could spare as I knew if I did more, Masamune would charge at me once more, trying to take advantage of the distraction. We were soon coming to blows once again, our practice swords locked. I could feel my left arm beginning to tremble with the effort, but I wouldn’t yield.

Just then Hideyoshi was running out in the middle of us along with Jiro and my doctor. “I think that’s enough you two.” Hideyoshi said, wrenching our practice swords apart.

“Yes, I think you’ve worked yourself enough, my lord.” Jiro said.

“It is important to not overdo it, my lord.” My doctor added.

“You’re…all a…bunch…of mother hens…” I said between panting breaths.

“I wasn’t actually…gonna hurt the lass…” Masamune agreed.

I was glad that my practice sword was in my right hand. My left arm was shaking from the exertion. “It’s not going to…improve if I just don’t use…it.” I said. “I have to…move it to… build the muscles back…up.”

“You still don’t need to overdo it, my lord.” Jiro told me.

“The wound has only just now closed up.” My doctor reminded me.

“You’re nuts if you think overdoing it is going to make you better.” Ieyasu said.

“I’m fine.” I countered, not wanting to listen. “It’s my body. I know what I’m capable of.”

“Look, you guys know nothing can keep our lord down.” Sato said, as she came over to join the crowd. “But clearly this match has come to an end, so you both may as well go and get freshened up. Weren’t you planning to make dinner for everyone, Lord Masamune?”

“Yeah, still have to make sure I’m making some hearty meals for your lord.” Masamune said with a grin.

I let out a sigh. “A break won’t hurt, I suppose.”

“I’ll have the maids draw you a nice warm bath.” Sato said.

“You know, a trip to the hot springs wouldn’t hurt.” The castle doctor said. “I recommend it as part of your treatment. Especially if you go to the crimson springs.”

“Crimson Springs?” Nobunaga asked as he had come over, standing next to me.

“Oh, yes we have some hot springs that have naturally red waters.” I explained. 

“Yes and they have even greater healing and restorative properties than the usual hot springs.” Sato said. “Which I believe our good doctor has a point.”

I had to admit, a dip in the hot springs sounded quite nice. “A trip to visit a new hotspring would be nice.” Nobunaga said. “And a good way to rest before we start our next move.”

And a good place for us to make our next move in this relationship. I thought, though I turned to Nobunaga with a cheeky grin. “And who says I was going to invite you?”

“I thought you might need a pillow and blanket.” Nobunaga replied, grinning at me as he wrapped his arms around me, clearly not caring about how sweaty I was…or that the others were around us.

“Hmm, I suppose you can come then.” I replied, smiling at him. If he didn’t care, then I don’t care either.

Masamune let out a whistle. “I never stood a chance.”  He said with a chuckle.

“I’ll make the arrangements, my lord.” Jiro said.

Two days later…

I finished packing up the things I would need for my trip to the Crimson Springs with Nobunaga. We would only be staying about three days, but I still wanted to make sure I had enough. Sato had insisted on helping me pack…and she insisted I pack my thinnest and most revealing night robe.

After I had finished packing, I was walking out the front entrance of the castle. Nobunaga was already waiting for me by the gate…with only his horse. Mine was nowhere to be found. “Are you ready to go, Ava?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

“Yes…but where is my horse?” I asked.

“I thought it would be more efficient if we rode together.” Nobunaga answered. “Do you have a problem with that arrangement?”

Have a problem with being on a horse with Nobunaga? Sitting against him and our bodies constantly knocking together as we rode? Nope, I saw no problems with that. “Not a one.” I answered, smiling.

Nobunaga grinned as he hopped on the back of the horse before offering me his hand. “Then let us be on our way.”

I placed my hand in his and allowed him to help me up into the saddle in front of him. His arms came around me as he picked up the reins. He was then placing a kiss on the nape of my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Your plan is to make it difficult to even last to the inn, isn’t it?” I asked him, a teasing tone in my voice.

Nobunaga chuckled in my ear. “Of course.” He answered. “I did promise you all night once you were healed up enough for that…and that starts now.” He was then nipping at my ear.

“O-oh?” I replied, turning to give him a coy smile despite my reddening cheeks. “Are you planning for all three nights?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Perhaps.” Nobunaga replied, grinning devilishly at me.

“Then…we should get going.”

Nobunaga chuckled, kissing my neck once again before snapping the reins and we were off.

What we weren’t aware of, was the others standing at the castle entrance as they had come to see us off. “Well, they looked rather cozy.” Mitsuhide said, that cheshire grin on his face.

“They’ve been quite cozy for a while.” Sato said, sharing his grin.

“Never thought I’d see the day Nobunaga was like that.” Masamune said, wearing his own grin.

“I never thought I’d see the day Lord Ava willingly got on a horse with a man like that.” Jiro said. “Not even when she’s been seriously injured has she done that.”

“Pretty sure that’s just preview of the ride she’s gonna be on later.” Sato said with a laugh.

Masamune and Mitsuhide were both laughing along with Sato at her comment. Jiro and Hideyoshi both glared at the three of them. “Why…why must you always go there?” Jiro asked.

“What is wrong with you three?” Hideyoshi scolded. “Those are our lords…”

“Oh, we’re all just happy for them.” Sato said, grinning. “They both look happy and excited to get to enjoy some alone time together and relax before we dive into more craziness.”

“Yes, we must all take happiness where we can.” Mitsuhide agreed.

“Especially those two.” Masamune spoke up.

Jiro and Hideyoshi both just sighed. The others were right…but still it felt disrespectful to talk about their lords like that!

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Jan 15th

Happy Sunday, friends! I read some delightful fluff this week--check it out and drop some love to your fic writers! 

~*~ 

Try, Try Again by kellifer_fic

Steve has been in love with Tony Stark for what feels like his whole life, but is really only since high school. A year's break and college finds Steve hopeful for a change, but Tony's still as brash, charming and beautiful as ever. It doesn't help that Tony has started noticing Steve in return. Can Steve bury his old insecurities and give Tony a chance?

light of a dark black night by kellifer_fic

"You said that I was a good man," Tony says. It seemed a little odd at the time. Tony had been apologizing for hovering because most people were unsettled by the presence of Angels, fearing they were always on official business.

"What else?"

"I would say, of course I'm good, I'm a chosen representative of the Corporation."

"And?"

"And, you would say, someday I would know the difference between what you said and what I thought it meant."

one hundred percent skill, fifty percent luck by kellifer_fic

Where there is a poker game, a v-card and general misunderstandings

this is what you came for by Thahire

Tony thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but, no, the impeccably dressed man with the impressive backside (he’s allowed to look, alright, he’s recently divorced), currently leafing through the exact book Tony’s looking for, definitely is Steve. He blinks, looking around. This feels a lot like a prank.

Or fate, his mind unhelpfully supplies.

A Stevetony meet cute.

Unknown Caller (do not engage) by gottalovev

Steve had one job: exchange a couple of texts with a guy who thought he had Natasha's number, and let him down gently. It ends up being a lot more complicated than that.

House of Memories by firelord_zutara

In which Peggy was Tony's biological mother, Tony constantly talks about Peggy around the other Avengers, and Steve does not take this well.

I’ll live every day with you (like friends do) by chrysanthart

Sure, he knows when Steve gets back from his morning run every day, and when he’s carding his hand through his hair he knows everything is alright in the world, but he wants to be absolutely clear: he isn’t in love with Steve. Steve and Tony are not dating.

This was supposed to be just art with a couple sentences about it. Enjoy what it turned into!

Just being neighbourly by BladeoftheNebula

"What part of ‘stay in the house’ do you not understand?” Hot Neighbour huffed. “Inside! Inside right now!”

Steve couldn’t see whatever it was but it must’ve gone back in because so did Hot Neighbour.

He headed back towards his canvas, picking up his brush to continue his work.

He wondered what kind of new pet Hot Neighbour had.

A much needed vacation by Redflower42

It was at that moment, being attacked by outer space tentacle monsters, that Tony decided. He needs a vacation.

The one where Tony takes his boyfriend to a beach vacation and fucks him.

Oh, and he proposes too.

Like A Lullaby by tinystark616

One night Tony wakes up from a nightmare and finds Steve reading in the living room. Steve offers to read to Tony to help him fall asleep again. But that's fine, it doesn't mean anything... right?

The Weight of Armor by vorkosigan

Steve is mysteriously kidnapped. His Avengers are worried. Or: a post-Arthurian AU, with knights and kings and swords, evil sorcerers, half-giants out of Wales, and two certain idiots who don't realize they are in love.

99 problems (and the dice ain't one) by kellifer_fic

Tony's life is almost perfect. He lives in a converted warehouse full of friends (and one frenemy), has a job that leaves him plenty of time to think about other things and a regular Friday night campaign. If his best friend, Steve Rogers, hadn't moved away to New York and left him behind, then perfection would've been achieved.

Tony can roll with the punches though and he's almost all the way over that little bump in the road (shut up Bruce, he totally is) when Steve moves back, looking taller and broader and more confident than ever and Tony's left with a converted warehouse full of friends (and one frenemy), a job that leaves him plenty of time to think about other things, a regular Friday night campaign and the uncomfortable realization that maybe he's in love with his best friend and has been since he was sixteen.

A Field of Flowers (okay, a plot) by AngeNoir 

Steve Rogers needs something to do that relieves stress, something that wasn't deciding to pick fights at bars with assholes who made a wealth of remarks to get offended at. His running buddy, Sam, shows him the community garden. The community.

And then Steve meets the mysterious Tony-the-head-gardener, and he starts falling.

i stole the keys to this guy by kellifer_fic

Where it was Nick Fury's idea, but he didn't mean it like that

It’s Not the Mountain We Conquer by Darkyu

Steve Rogers was known to be an honest man. And, really, he is. But even Captain America has his limits and Tony is well known for challenging them.

Steve, after trying it all, decides that he needs to try a different tactic to get Tony to quit stubbornly denying the love that they have for each other.

Luckily for Steve, he has some powerful friends in the magic field that could offer him a final solution to his problem.

The Definition of Love by StarSparkle2403

Tony's never had a pack to call his own. No one's ever wanted him to be part of one, so why would the Avengers be any different?

Modern Love by fictionforlife, Neverever

Tony drifts into a relationship with Steve after a one night stand. He thinks that Steve is modern and well adjusted to the 21st century but finds that Steve is old-fashioned in unexpected ways.

When I Think (Oh, it Terrifies Me) by celli

Look, some mornings you wake up and little green men are invading New York City; some mornings you wake up and you can hear Captain America's voice in your head. Tony has been an Avenger long enough that he saves his freakout for important things.

A Gentle Lullaby by navaan

They, all of them, are mortal and sometimes their brushes with death bring them closer to it than other people ever get. Fighting is what they do. But fighting for other people's survival without a thought to your own safety is easy when you're not leaving someone behind. Good then, that they don't have any families left... Until Hydra drops a new bundle of responsibility right in their laps. But that might not even be their biggest problem.

More Than Gravity by JenTheSweetie

“Aw, time travel, no.”

On Christmas Eve, Tony came unstuck in time.

And In The Silence That Follows by lazywriter7

“But as a guy who’s never been good at anything but killing- lemme tell you this. Wars can come to us, and we can fight to end them.”

“But nothing’s ever worth starting one. Nothing at all.”

As the dust of Civil War starts to settle- Steve begins to see a couple of things.

the second you leave, i miss you by PjCole

He wants to kiss Steve one more time and another time after that, and a third and fourth time, if he can swing it. His body is hot, so over warm and delicious. If Steve steps away, Tony will fall right through the floor and he just can't take it.

Flower Child by itsallAvengers

The point was this, though:

In a hundred million universes, in a hundred million different lives, there would never be a single one of them in which Tony Stark deserved anyone like Steve Rogers. Ever.

So this? Nonsensical.

[best-hifi-rush-character]

If I may openly campaign for Macaron.

On purely a character design standpoint, Macaron’s character can immediately be identified by his outfit. His cybernetics give hints towards needing fine motor skills, his outfit suggests more practicality than flair, the eye shape and the clean shave combine to give a kindness that comes through the screen, so many fine things for a humble man who deserves to be cherished.

If we are gonna talk about personality and character arc, Korsica’s arc is completed rather simply and simple is fantastic here for the game, don’t glorify your heroes. it doesn’t give us much for her personality but it served it’s purpose! I admire Korsica in my own right for being a simple character… people STILL somehow manage to mess up characterizing her and that is dumb as hell. I have more gripes with Korsica fans mischaracterizing her, I’m sorry, she isn’t a cool headed leader. She is a hot headed, curious soldier type and that is enough for me. I have seen enough Korsica posts and went “ She would not fucking say that” because fanon and canon alas are more separated than usual in this fanon when it comes to her. Like, guys, for real, a lot of the traits y’all hc for Korsica, PEPPERMINT HAS.

For Macaron, his personality is given more complexities than Korsica and his own character arc of inaction still being a choice in itself is going to be a continuous work to go through and that gives a sort of richness to his character that doesn’t seem to be appreciated. In all honesty, my love and campaigning for Macaron is because of a simple thing, his character is left at a point where he can grow beyond that and the game gives us vines to grab and climb to see that, but it is only a few people and myself up here. We wish to spread the glory of a man who will support you and is dedicated to his work as much as he can be dedicated to you.

Also I speak on behalf of those whose faves lost to Korsica who I indoctrinated into the love of macaron.

Speaking of, I’m going to go Rally for 808 because I want to see the cat and Macaron fight.

Vote Macaron! He has a clear character, a majority of his fans can give you actual personality than just Big Man Hot, and he supports the people!

[kaittalkstoomuch]

WOO! I hope everyone is having a good day today! I know it’s Monday, but let’s make it better with CHAPTER THREE: THE BETRAYAL!

‘86 // Chapter Three: The Betrayal

TW: slight mention of abandonment

Roxie’s POV

“Eddie.” I say weakly, my eyes focused on the scene playing out in front of me. Eddie and Chrissy Cunningham, the fucking cheer captain, talking. In secret. I’ve never, ever been the jealous type. I’m not even jealous of Chrissy. I only feel bad for her for being stuck with that asshole Jason. However, this leaves a bad feeling in my stomach. Like, everything is twisting and untwisting. The five of us stand in this unwanted, unforeseen standoff. We all look at each other in pure shock. My eyes mainly focus on Eddie and Chrissy. “Roxie, it’s not-“ Chrissy suddenly pipes up. “Rox, sweetheart-“ “I gotta go to class.” I manage to utter in my state of disassociation and panic before walking off.

Eddie’s POV

“Guys, I promise it’s not what it looks like.” “I gotta go…. See you at lunch.” Gareth The Great speaks before walking away. It’s just Robin, Chrissy, and I. “Robin, I swear. You know I would never hurt Roxie.” I quietly say with my hands up in defense. “He’s right. We were just talking about homework.” Chrissy softly speaks. Robin doesn’t seem too impressed, closing her eyes and rubbing her lips together. “Come on, class is about to start.” Buckley sternly spoke before walking off. Chrissy looks at me apologetically. “I’m so sorry…. I didn’t mean to upset Roxie.” “It’s okay… I’ll see you in the woods. I’ll bring the stuff.” I mutter before walking off. Fuck, I really hope my baby is okay. I really wish and hope I didn’t screw this up. Roxie is truly the best thing to ever happen to me. Yes, I have The Hellfire Club, but Roxie is my better half.

I can’t lose her. I won’t. I walk into class as the bell rings and sit next to Robin, who rightfully gives me a glare. I grab my notes out and take a deep breath as the self deprecating thoughts continue. My Roxie hates me. My better half is fleeting. My queen. “Buckley.” I whisper. “Robin.” I whisper louder, startling her a bit. “What Munson?” I begin to plead with her. “Can you, uh, help me with this…… assignment.” “ALRIGHT CLASS!” Our teacher roars, interrupting my plea. “I understand it is almost spring break, but there is still work that needs to be done.” She yells over the chatter amongst everyone. “Partner up.”

Robin looks at my struggling self. “Fine.” She groans. She turns to face me. “What do you need help with?” She huffs. “Ways to win Roxie back.” I beg as she rolls her eyes. “Eddie.” “Buckley please.” I whisper. “I can explain… I….” I grab my notebook almost frantically and write everything down. “I was arranging a drug deal with Chrissy.” I jot down then show her. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It clicks as she gets her pencil and writes. She quickly shows me the “notes”. “What the hell do you mean you were doing a drug deal?” It reads. I give her a look. I yank my notebook away from her frustrated.

“I have so much going on. The campaign, the drug deal, now my girlfriend is fucking pissed at me. Can you help me?” I show her my notes and she begins reading. I grow more anxious with many thoughts going on. “Okay….” She finally whispers amongst the other noise. “Fine. I believe you. You obviously don’t want to hurt Rox, but that was a scene.” She speaks. “It was indeed, but that’s the last thing I want her to think. We’re two days shy of our one year… and with the campaign, I’m so frustrated. She nods taking this all in. “Look, I see what you’re saying, but we both know Rox. Seeing you with another girl, it shocked her. She knows you wouldn’t cheat, you love her too much. She loves you too much.”

I nod. “I do. So fucking much. I just hope that she’s okay.” “She is, I’m sure. She’ll sit with me at lunch today to cool down, talk it out. I’ll let her know about what happened. Do you want me to give a message or what?” I think about it for a second. “No, I’ll write a note and put it in her locker. She nods in agreement. “Real original Munson.” I roll my eyes. “It’s better than making an ass of myself.” She snickers. “You’re already doing that.” I chuckle before I write the note. “Hey…. I know you’re mad at me, but meet me in the theater room and I’ll tell you everything okay? You deserve that. I love you sweetheart. Hope to see you.”

*******************************

The bell rings and Buckley and I nod at each other before leaving. I quickly approach Roxie’s locker and carefully but swiftly slide the note in. I skid away and hide behind a corner and see my sweetheart open her locker. Her cheeks are red, not her usual blush tone, but a darker tone. She’s been crying. Oh darling. She picks up the note as she opens her locker fully. A light smile quickly appears. That’s my baby girl. She looks up and smiles more as Robin approaches her.

I go into the cafeteria and find my clan, sans Dustin and Mike. I sit at the end with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. Grant takes notice of Roxie’s absence. “Hey… where’s Roxie?” “Did she run away?” Jeff jokes as Gareth and I eye each other. “How was class?” I ask him since they have two classes together back to back. “Roxie calmed down after a while….” He shrugs. “….she’s not mad… per say.” “‘Per say’?” I questioned. “She was in shock more than anything….. it was surprising for all of us really.” “What was surprising-“ “Nothing.” Gareth and I rapidly interrupt Grant. I nod taking everything in, still extremely nervous. “Good… I just want her to be okay…. And not mad…. ‘Per say.’” I echo Gareth’s statement with a groan. The other two look at each other confused.

“What?” Jeff asks. “NOTHING!” Gareth and I say in unison. I look around the table and notice the magazine in front of Grant with “Dungeons & Dragons” corresponding with “SATANIC PANIC” on the front cover. “What’s that?” I toss a pretzel in my mouth. Grant’s panicked eyes meet my curious ones. I snatch the newspaper from him, open it, and begin reading the article. “‘Dungeons and Dragons…’” I begin mocking the article, sternly focusing on the words in front of me. “‘At first regarded as a harmless game of make-believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned.’” I stay behind the magazine to shield my face. “‘Studies have linked violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship…ritual sacrifice, sodomy….’” My eyes move as I try not to laugh, imagining what Roxie's reaction would be. She would be mocking it too. I need to fucking see her.

“‘Suicide.. and even…’” I slam the magazine down. “‘MURDER!’” I have my big finish mocking an article. Roxie would agree it’s ridiculous. The guys laugh along with me as I long for Roxie’s chuckle. Her arms around me. Her chin on my shoulder. Our affection almost grossing the guys out. I now notice the former lost sheep Dustin and Mike approach. I remember meeting the two for the first time, though not lost. Roxie would constantly talk about how when they were little, she and Nancy Wheeler would dress as elves participating in the game. Now, Roxie would often reminisce those times. She’s very protective of Dustin because he would get bullied when they first moved to Hawkins and more when their father left them. She doesn’t let anyone hurt Dustin, and for that, he’s like a little brother to me.

“Society has to blame something. We’re an easy target.” Grant speaks. “Exactly.” I agree. “We’re the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game.” I take a quick moment before I go on and hike my leg up. “But as long as you’re into band.” I climb onto the table. “Or science…” I start looking for Roxie. “Or parties.” I mock the asshats. One dweeb flips the bird. I eye Jason Carver, the biggest asshat of all. “OR A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO LAUNDRY BASKETS!” I yell as Jason stands up. “You want something freak?” He threatens. I give him devil horns and make goblin sounds as he acts annoyed. Mission complete. I start smiling, but it grows once I see my queen, smiling back at me, clapping. I give her a little bow and chuckle.

I turn around to finish my speech. “It’s forced conforming… THAT’S WHAT KILLING THE KIDS!” I end running on the table back to my seat, content with my queen smiling and my outburst. That’s when Dustin notices. “Hey, where’s my sister?” Mike chimes in. “Yeah… isn’t she normally sitting on your lap eating your face?” Gareth and I look at each other clueless what to say. “First of all, we eat each other’s faces. Second of all, she’s sitting with Buckley today…. Possibly planning something.” I say putting another pretzel in my mouth meeting the boys’ puzzled faces. However, they don’t question it. Instead we’re met with an impossible inquiry. Sinclair has that stupid balls in laundry baskets game, and the boys want to postpone.

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!” Grant snarls. Chaos ensues as everyone throws hissy fits left and right. “SHUT UP!” I yell, eyeing my sheep. Lucas has been taken to the dark side, but the show must go on. I throw a pretzel angrily at the boys. My anger and frustration take over. They mention postponing the game once more, but can’t find subs. I furiously get up from my seat, turning immediately when I hear “championship game” from Mike. Now, that’s playing with fire.

“Can I level with you?” I squint at the two boys. “Jeff graduates this year. Gareth’s got what? A year and a half?… Me, I am army crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O’Donell’s.” I point to myself. “If I don’t blow her final, I’m gonna walk that stage next month, I’m gonna look at Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I’m gonna flip him the bird. I’m gonna snatch that diploma, and I’m gonna run like hell out of here.” I exclaim hearing Dustin’s laugh, maybe Roxie’s too in the distance.

I smile lightly just thinking about the things Roxie and I would do after graduation. Corroded Coffin would be huge. We’d leave this hellhole. Roxie would be my lovely wedded wife. My ride or die. My Stevie Nicks. My everything. We’d also write songs together. New beginnings. We’re going to live that dream out. She’s my forever. I watch her and Robin leave. She looks back at me. I smile back at her, she smiles back, giving me reassurance that everything will be alright.

[transgender-mothman]

If you read my response, you’ll see I have played and run other systems. I have a large collection of ttrpgs, and have played quite a few. Many of them are small or indie, and I also have friends who are indie game designers (shout out to @strangeharpy !). I think my actual second longest campaign was a powered by the apocalypse one, and I have designed a d6 magical girl game system from scratch because I couldn’t find what I wanted in a pre-existing system. And it worked great and was very fun, if difficult, to do! I am a staunch supporter of indie games.

Now. That said. My current group does double back to 5e. That is very true. I’ve been playing 5e off and on for a long time, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say we are necessarily constantly “supporting a monopoly” in that … we already own the books, either physically or digital copies, and there’s no buying of every single thing wotc releases. We don’t use d&d beyond. We don’t run modules or whatever it is that wotc calls the prefab campaigns these days. I haven’t bought a new 5e book in YEARS, because there’s no need to and tbh I don’t care to give WotC more money particularly with the direction they’ve been going. My group play very home brew, very tweaked, very RP heavy games using the 5e system as a base, and it works for us. And that’s our prerogative and that’s totally fine to do! My initial statement stands—- play whatever, however, and with whoever is best for the experience YOU want to have.

As for why we go back to 5e, just because there are things we drop or leave out, doesn’t mean there aren’t aspects of it we love. The races, classes, feats, spells, and combat system work for us and you can really have such a different experience from campaign to campaign by mixing up what you play and how, and there are tons of (free) resources by players for players online to assist or add to your game. There’s a ton of actual play content, which is accessible and fun to engage with, that gets newbies a solid idea on how a ttrpg flows or works, and this is such a help for people who are apprehensive about starting. And for older players who have started with previous editions, there’s at least some commonality between versions (I started playing 3.5 myself). Not everyone who plays or continues to play 5e is actively harming the indie community by using resources they already have or games they are comfortable/familiar with.

I very much believe everyone should try other games if they’re able. There’s such a wealth of cool, unique games out by smaller companies and indie developers. But I do understand why 5e has a lot of pull to it— yes, it’s THE mainstream system, which unfortunately comes with all the other trappings of capitalism. But the game isn’t bad in and of itself and I don’t believe playing it, any way you want to, is a moral or ethical failing.

5e is a gateway game now more than ever. I am a very nerdy horror film guy, but I didn’t start with indie arthouse movies… like most people, I started with major Hollywood franchises, because of mass accessibility. Everyone starts somewhere! And not everyone will branch out from mainstream d&d to games that are more off the beaten track, same as not all horror fans will go from the Saw franchise to weird experimental horror that no one outside of Letterboxd has ever heard of. But you know what? Some will. And that’s great.

I think an important part of the "D&D is easy to learn" argument is that a lot of those people don't actually know how to play D&D. They know they need to roll a d20 and add some numbers and sometimes they need to roll another type of die for damage. A part of it is the culture of basically fucking around and letting the GM sort it out. Players don't actually feel the need to learn the rules.

Now I don't think the above actually counts as knowing the rules. D&D is a relatively crunchy game that actually rewards system mastery and actually learning how to play D&D well, as in to make mechanically informed tactical decisions and utilizing the mechanics to your advantage, is actually a skill that needs to be learned and cultivated. None of that is to say that you need to be a perfectly tuned CharOp machine to know how to play D&D. But to actually start to make the sorts of decisions D&D as a game rewards you kind of need to know the rules.

And like, a lot of people don't seem to know the rules. They know how to play D&D in the most abstract sense of knowing that they need to say things and sometimes the person scowling at them from behind the screen will ask them to roll a die. But that's hardly engaging with the mechanics of the game, like the actual game part.

And to paraphrase @prokopetz this also contributes to the impression that other games are hard to learn: because a lot of other games don't have the same culture of play of D&D so like instead of letting new players coast by with a shallow understanding of the rules and letting the GM do all the work, they ask players to start making mechanically informed decisions right away. Sure, it can suck for onboarding, but learning from your mistakes can often be a great way to learn.

[toinfinitywinning]

Yk I’ve always wondered something w/ the Pro-Birth crowd. When or if that baby identifies as transgender, or needs assistance from the ACA, or free School lunch or let’s get crazy and Go as far as the clean needle exchange—it’s as if their Life ends and they’re not worth it all the sudden. At least hateful Rhetoric, baseless prejudice and lack of Support- funding and laws would suggest that possibility based on other single-issue-voting tropes and fake News of its own.

Should men and their partners have like a condom limit registry? Or keep them locked up like 🦦box Phone cases at Wal☆Mart waiting for the one electronics worker to float around with that jail cell like Key Ring or the one from Titanic when all the water Gates were closing? What would the government need to take from them?

Not like childish quid Pro quo (Adult speak for petty In this example) but like, maybe biweekly urine tests published or mandatory sperm banking with no tracers and be In the next fiction Netflix docu about the true story of the guy with over 1000 children… 🤔

Or, recount sexual encounters to an assigned psychologist In an Out of Network Insurance Plan near you. How invasive and humiliating In order to get it…but sometimes it doesn’t seem like even those things matter. B/c I truly believe that what tr?mp said In 2016 was telling the Truth for once: he could shoot somebody In the middle of Times Square or his..tower w/ the escalator and get away w/ it. Then, camera evidence and sound bites somehow turned fake News so Fast you’d think Dems and TikTok’ers had subscriptions to instantaneous AI creating tools.

Ofc, this includes women Who continue to ✔ote against themselves, too. Women are often proficient against themselves.

Sound ridiculous? Too graphic? Offensive? Yea, kinda. But so is the story of the Woman dying In her car In a hospital parking lot b/c not even malpractice Insurance can save these doctors or women clearly from Life saving care.

But we’re well past that. This isn’t political correctness or canceling or sensitivity & especially if what I’m saying is more offensive than idk “I don’t care about women I just want their ✔ote.”

This tr?mp God Complex with ppl is like their own golden calf. Maybe tr?mp’s bibles (his don’t get the capital B...) left that story out of the Old Testament. In that Case then he’s also selling foldable switchblade hunting knives and minted coins at WEBSITE near you.

The Blue campaign and no campaign is Perfect or without flaw or Offense, horrible people or Biden’s Big mouth and inappropriate comments at times, or apparently the Way Kamala’s laugh and beauty REALLY offends people yk that she slept her Way to the top, but if you are honestly struggling to see any of this I will help you make that T-chart. I’m not eloquent and will curse more than you’d like, but we’ll be fine.

Today’s been annoying for several reasons so taking to FB and being even more annoying, productivity ranting with an End goal was just drumming.

Julia Roberts was Right—women can keep it even at the ballot box. Now had she been In Pretty Woman and saying this she’d be brushed off and incompetent b/c she was an escort. “BIG MISTAKE, yuge.” You know the iconic scene.

Here’s to the men that we love. If you’re In the Alpha Chi Chapter of Sigma Kappa at GC you’ll get that sentence. Full ⭕️.

Deuces.

[spooner-the-trinity]

Ni Hao a Aloha Mai - Chapters 2 and 3

Michael Eisner watched the two gentlemen walk out of the room with a trumphant glimmer in their eyes and had called in Bob Iger to inform him of the results. 

"You did the right thing, Michael." Bob congratulated his mentor. "We need Pixar as much as they need us."

"What can I say, they're practically part of the family." Michael retorted. "At least it'll buy us some more time with them and who knows… if all goes well, we could be owning three major Animation houses by the end of the decade."

"I'm glad to hear that you're taking thi… three?" Iger did a double take. "You mean, you're keeping the Florida lot?"

Eisener nodded back. "With California now focusing on CGI, we'll need to keep a homestead for the classic pen and paper approach. The Pixar guys proposed this as a condition for the continued relationship."

"Mike, isn't three Studios a little too much?" Iger argued. "Heck, I'd like to think two's more than enough."

"Well, it does help to have a counterpoint around to keep us on our toes." Eisener mentioned. "If we can make money off the inverse of our storytelling. Why not draw from both opposites in terms of the art."

"You heard what Katzenberg said!" Iger protested. "Hand Drawn is a relic of the past, you yourself said you wanted to centralize it all under CG."

"You're right, Bob." Admitted Michael. "We can't afford to be left in the past, but that doesn't mean we can just give up on what is an important part of our history. We gotta fight on and keep the craft going for as long as we can."

"We'll be throwing away money if you do this."

"We'll be throwing away Talent if we don't!"

Iger was dumbfounded. "You’ve finally lost it. After two straight decades on the job, you’ve let it go to your head.”

“Honestly, if it were earlier in these dismal days, a part of me would have agreed with ya.” Eisener shrugged. “But this is the voice of a man who’s willing to take the power back. Who’s ready to pull out all the stops and find new ways to help the medium keep up with CG’s rapid evolution. Who’s willing to see Disney’s magic remain vigilant in the face of a changing culture. This is a pivotal part of the plan going forward, our olive branch to Roy.”

“Are you seriously roping Roy into this?” Iger probed to his superior. “Especially when he’s dusted off his Save Disney campaign with Stanley Gold? You know, what got you in there in the first place?”

“Why not?” snarked the master to the apprentice. “After all, we wouldn’t have all this without it.”

“I don’t have time for this…” Iger facepalmed. “If you wanna play Ghandi, do it when there are human rights on the line instead of our pocketbooks.”

Michael took a look at his famed portrait of Walt and then his cover on Time Magazine before pulling out a pink sticky note. “Then I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.”

“I get it.” Bob Iger proceeded to walk towards the door. “If you’re really taking it seriously, then try to calm down.”

“I’m trying, sir.” Iger added. “But this albatross you’ve chosen to keep around your neck is more than concerning.”

“So you’re that on edge, huh.” Eisener narrowed his stare. “Fine, if you’re just gonna walk off like this, you’re not walking back in. Do ya hear me? I didn’t take any crap from Katzenberg, I sure as hell ain’t takin’ any crap from you!”

Robert Iger opened the door and took in the gravity of the predicament and spoke: “I don’t really feel clean quoting a show that killed off your likeness in one episode… But in the words of Glenn Quagmire: Giggidy-Giggidy-Giggidy-Giggidy-Piss off, Jew!”

With a blunt slam, Michael Eisener watched helplessly as his protege left behind the destiny he had been planning for him. And once more, he felt like a failure.

Back at the Animation building, longtime veteran Berny Mathison looked to Iger as he made his way out for the final time. If these walls could talk, he would be hearing a faint, yet mournful roar when Iger got into his car and drove out the parking lot. 

As for Iger, he tried to keep himself calm in the face of throwing away the biggest opportunity of his career as he drove into the snowy January road ahead. His mind continued to wander until his eyes spotted a little girl watching a smaller boy on his tricycle make his way to the sidewalk… while the girl herself was right on the road. 

Iger honked as hard as he could to get her attention, his focus on the two making their way onto the sidewalk instead of the looming toy truck in front of the windshield. 

WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE! ARMORED VEHICLE!

D23=3

SMAAAaaash!!!!  

(Robert Iger has left Disney and may very well leave this mortal plane of existence, +10 to Eisener's Stress)

Dan DeBarde

...and done!

Darn, your hand was sore.

Who knew there would be so many papers to sign when producing an animated feature. "Your new partner's waiting for you in the other room, sir."

"So you must be Eric, Welcome aboard…" You shook hands and walked your guest through the door. "How was your flight?"

"In a word, bittersweet. I mean, yeah, you stood up for the Florida place, and hand drawn as a whole." Eric Goldberg smiled back. "A shame I had to leave behind a bunch of my colleagues back home."

"Now you know how 88 of us felt when Eisener shipped them in the opposite direction." You deadpanned to the warmer gentleman.

"Hey, I’m more than happy to pull my own weight around these parts given the second chance you gave us.” Eric confided to his fellow executive. "Though don’t expect me to come in on time for at least a couple months."

“Yeah, I get it. It’s 10 in the morning on the west coast.” You joked. “I’m just glad I didn’t pick Berny, he’d probably would have croaked mid-flight.”

(Eric Goldberg installed as Creative Executive of Feature Animation)

“Just heard from him, by the way...” Eric sighed. “Turns out the half of us that’s stuck in Burbank is being forced into an 18-month crash course in computer animation for Chicken Little. But god bless him, he’s doing his best.” 

“Guess that’s why they call you guys lifers.” You joked back. 

Eric's eyes wandered over your office and found a plushie of a familiar blue creature and picked it up. "So this is Mickey of the Floridian Generation, huh."

“Yep.” You leaned back into your cozy chair, your one solace in this difficult job. 

(Stitch Recognized as Mascot of Walt Disney Feature Animation)

“Can’t say I’m shocked, the little fella’s become an icon of the decade right now.” “See, we actually have him headlining the new tour video with Mushu cause y'know, we've had Back to Neverland for so long, It’s high time we sunset it in favor of something more modern."

“I understand.” Eric smirked. “So what’s the plan, boss…”

“Funny you brought up that crash course, Mister Joe Ranft actually ended up on the shortlist for the position you’ve just filled by taking the initiative to provide the tutelage.” You recounted before pulling out a phone number. “And he pitched the idea of our mascots alongside Mickey and Woody interacting with an old friend.”

You then pull out a photograph of Walt Disney, and Eric was gobsmacked. "Of course, we'll have to heavily vet the actor we bring to fill his carbonite-frozen shoes. But I've interned on Jeopardy long enough to get Trebek's phone number so I'm sure I could get him to stop by for an audition."

"I'd like to think a quick dinner with Roy would work." Eric smiled back.

(Because we're Curious locked in four the tour video)

(Alex Trebek added to Voice Pool)

"Now, Mike decided to call in a few favors from Miyazaki." He continued. 

"The Ghibli Guy?" You tilted your head. "With the long ears."

"Totoro's a production of Ghibli, yes." Eric corrected. "He got in touch with Tezuka Productions and Mike was offered one of three potential titles to adapt into a film."

"Couldn’t we just fix Peoples?" You asked. "I'm sure Kirk and Gary could patch together something presentable from a hot mess like that, just look at Beauty and the Beast for crying out loud."

"Well, you did promise four hand-drawn films."

"Doesn't say we can't still dabble in CG every now and then." You shrugged in your office chair before continuing. "Go ahead, give them a call."

(Roll for Wisedale)

D23=17

"Oh, alright." Eric sighed. "But you better lobby Mike to give Burbank a 2D flick to do in return."

"I'll see what I can do." You then picked up a TV remote. "Like I said, we had to pick a title. And this is what we picked."

You hold up the remote to click on the television to unveil the teaser trailer to their current project. The screen opened with a flip book of frames depicting Doc, one of the seven dwarves, belting out the opening 'High-Hoooooo!' We then see the Blue Fairy waving her wand over Sorcerer Mickey as Ink and paint is being applied to the two. Dumbo and Bambi slide into frame as screens depicting shots of Disney's back catalog of movies and shorts zoomed in to the voices of an entire crowd that was far larger than the other six. "High-Hoooooo!" Silence hit as the screen showing Mary Poppins being served by the Animated Penguins was followed by one of Baloo and Bagheera dancing off into the sunset. The post Walt era films would flow in to the voice of Phil Collins joining in for the chorus and into the Renaissance with a billowing. "High-Ho! High-Ho! High-Hoooooo!"

High-Ho! High-Ho!

Ni hao a Aloha Mai

To All who come to this happy place

ALO-HA MAI!

The screens were congregating into the background as the logo flew in its CGI golden glory: Walt Disney Feature Animation.

"Gorgeous." Eric complimented. "Though a bit self-indulgent."

"Yeah, even I thought it was a bit much, but Phil was at the wrap party and rallied the troops when we announced the save. So I thought we could use it for our calling card." You smiled. "We've even got plans to animate Stitch into it."

"Gotta milk that mascot, eh?" Eric laughed with you, yes this was going to be a fun partnership. "Now, about that Tezuka flick."

"Right! It was back and forth between Melmo and Dororo, both incredibly wild projects, wilder than Astro Boy believe it or not." You elaborated. "One has a little girl jumping back and forth through puberty and the other has a guy carved into literal pieces, one for the 48 demons that carved him up for a warlord."

Eric's eyes widened and his blood churned. "Yikes."

"Yeah, pretty heavy stuff all things considered." You admitted. "But we already locked in Mary Gibbs as the little girl for both of them so let's get to reading." You tapped heavily at the box of tankobans printed by the Tezuka estate as if you were doing a drum roll "And the winner is:"

(Dororo Becomes the fourth or fifth film from Walt Disney Feature Animation!)

"Fun fact, the animators proposed a sequence where Melmo would undergo a rough initial transformation going through all the rough parts of puberty." You joked to your partner. "Yeah, she was just not worth the parental cries of 'The Children'. Maybe next time if this partnership pans out."

"We just gotta wait and see, right?" Eric smiled back. 

"For now, we gotta call up the Beastie Boys and figure out how the carved into pieces bit can work out for us." You go back to your desktop PC only to find a frown on Eric's jovial jaws.

"So... you've heard about Iger, right?"

(Is he okay?)

D23=16

Two sleepless months went by for Willow Bay where she would do her job on CNN or MSNBC as an entertainment industry correspondent, then spend the twilight hours tending to her wounded husband. The now former Chief Operating Officer of the Walt Disney Company would lay unconscious as the days bled into weeks, and to say that Michael was devastated was an understatement. 

He pulled out all the stops for him, calling in all sorts of talent from across the industry to share their wishes for Iger's full recovery. Gift baskets, wine, toys, gift baskets with wine, and letters from concerned children. 

There was even a collection of voice-mail messages from familiar voices of Disney's past from Jim Cummings to Robin Williams, most of them were When you Wish upon a Star (and would see reuse in Once Upon a Studio for the 100th Anniversary) but what ultimately stirred him from his coma was Jennifer Hale's message. She had invited Ilane Woods to sing 'A Dream is a Wish' together, and when Willow played it for him like she usually did for every message. Iger's eyes began to flutter open and muttered: "Hell of a winter, eh."

The road to recovery was relatively rough on the man, not only did he have to get readjusted to his body but he also needed a job to get himself back on his feet financially. Luckily, Fox President Gail Berman has been looking to relaunch Fox Kids as a full network and thought that he could be the best choice for the studio and could very well be the best pick for the job. Given his ties to Disney and the guilt Eisener had meant that Fox could easily buy back the Fox Family Worldwide Library from Eisener since he's been doing a decent job burying it all, but it wasn't enough.

For Fox Kids to bounce back from its demise at the hands of the mouse, they needed a long-term strategy to re-establish itself. Then a sudden idea hit him: Fox was looking to enter a cozy relationship with [adult swim] to rerun its animated shows like, if he could perchase that for Fox Kids,  it would be mutually beneficial due this would cut out the middlemen of licencing and rope in the audience that grew up with Fox Kids back in the 90s. So, once he checked out of the hospital, he took the position and got to work on negotiations. 

(Robert Iger is courting adult swim, bruh. What's gunna happen, bruh?)

D23=22

AOL Time Warner, rapidly bleeding money and looking to shed some deadweight, decided to feed them all of Turner Broadcasting in October of 2004 for keeping everything that would be rendered redundant by the exchange including CNN, TBS and TNT as well as the Looney Tunes shorts from the Turner Library and the complete portfolio of Scooby Doo and Tom and Jerry (The latter of which would be folded into the Looney Tunes lineup) due to a few projects being in production. All for a total of $22 Billion Dollars. This Irked Carl Icahn, and prompted him to accelerate his plans to dismantle the AOL Time Warner merger, but that debacle is another story and shall be told another time.

[charmac]

To be honest, I think everyone does know this and it’s something that’s nice to assure to yourself and others, for sure. Like yes they are canonically in a relationship with insane feelings and you can talk and talk and talk for hours about it and posts do numbers when they’re just, canon scenes of Dennis looking at Mac or doing extremely gay shit. But at the end of the day, the majority of the people watching this show would laugh in your face if you told them Dennis has feelings for Mac.

I say this because I was one of those people who, for over 2 years, loved this show but never understood what people were saying when they said Dennis wasn’t straight, when they said Dennis likes Mac. (Like what, lol, Dennis hates Mac, if he ever slept with him it would be just for sex, just to manipulate him, he doesn’t have feelings for the guy whatsoever.) Queer Dennis truthers seemed like ‘insane shippers’ to me, someone who shipped fucking Destiel for a decade.

And then I interacted with fandom and I saw edits, and gifs, and writing, explanation of meta and scenes and parallels and it was like Dennis has been in front of me on a platter for years, a covered plate and someone told me ‘here’s your steak’ and I said, ‘alright, buddy, that’s clearly just dishware,’ and sat there with my potato thinking everyone was a little delusional talking about how good the steak was tonight, because there wasn’t any fucking steak. Dinner was fine, but c’mon that’s not steak. And then one day someone came up to me and said, ‘Hey, try uncovering it. Lift the top off the plate.’ And there it was, a fucking steak I could cut to pieces and sink my teeth in, warping my whole perception of dinner.

Maybe I was pretty fucking stupid, personally blind for awhile, but I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to not see it, I just, couldn’t fucking see it until I was shown. And let’s be honest, a lot of people who watch this show are stupid to pretty varying degrees.

So when people are annoyingly complaining Macdennis is ‘not canon’ or begging RCG to just full-send commit, complaining of the slow burn being a little too slow, that everything’s just a degree too subtle, that there’s some criticisms of whatever Dennis is, it’s not because we don’t see Macdennis as canon, or we want to see them raw on screen, but because the majority of the fans can’t see it without being told, without being shown. I complain and campaign for everyone in my position 3 years ago, who would really fucking get it if someone held their hand and lifted the lid, but no one is, so RCG need to go fucking do it.

(And there’s always the added bonus that the horde of misogynistic transphobic homophobic fans who watch this show and interact with it on a daily basis would instantly be thwarted (and most would fuck off) if we had explicit, canon Macdennis.)

Personally I’m at a point where I really would be fine if the show ended without them sucking or fucking or just kissing or even with no actual dialogue revealling they’ve banged, but that doesn’t do much for everyone else, and it makes me hurt a little.

For Sunny to end, go down as a beginning to end beautiful 20-year-long story that 80% or more of people will tune into, watch all the way through, and walk away from confidently saying ‘Yeah Dennis is straight and hates Mac’ fucking infuriates me, and I just won’t stand for it, so imma continue to be a little annoying about canon Macdennis (well, for now obviously we’re riding the Dennis undeniably having feelings for Mac train, but ik you’re all in the car with me)

macdennis shippers are annoying because they're always like "is it gonna be cannon?" ...when it's already cannon. There are commentaries where they agree they have a "gay thing" going on... I mean, if they consummated it or not, it is already very much cannon (and Dennis prefers a slow burn seduction with lots of preamble, even for one or two night stands he has a multi-step process, so for the LOVE OF HIS LIFE of course he's going give Mac an epic slow burn romancing for the ages, spanning decades and continents.) "when will it be cannon" IT'S UNFOLDING RIGHT BEFORE OUR EYES. HAS BEEN THE WHOLE TIME. Newsflash assholes...

[moonlightsolo]

Can you make one where the reader is a ballerina and she also in hellfire. She tells the guys that she’s not going to make it to the next hellfire meet up and asks them to change it because she has a ballet recital that day. And everyone says no but Eddie because he wants to see her perform. And just be wants to see her in her ballet costume. 

oh hell ya. i know nothing about ballet but i’ll try my best.

the cafeteria today is busy, bustling students crowd the giant room and the permanent aroma of fried food lingers in the air. you’re sitting at your designated table with the rest of the hellfire club, using your fork to absentmindedly pick at your food.

the only thing occupying your mind is your dance recital. your brain repeats the memorized steps in your head, counting to the beat of the classical music that you’re softly humming to yourself.

a tray slams down next to you, making you jump out of your socks. “good day, my fellow knights!” eddie munson bellows loudly to the boys, making nearby tables turn and scowl at him, “and hello to you, m’lady.” he bows his head towards you, a proud smirk on his face.

the little nickname makes you blush, glancing up from your cold food to look at him with a smile. he mirrors the same look before stuffing his face with ranch coated french fries.

conversation buzzes around you, but your mind refuses to listen as you continue to repeat the choreography, “so, everyone ready for the campaign tonight?”

oh shit.

eddie’s words catch your attention, your eyes shooting up to look at him with a panicked look. before he notices you staring, your eyes dart back down to your cold green beans.

shit, shit, shit! how could you forget to find a sub for tonight? oh my god, he’s going to have you by the throat.

“earth to y/n?” eddie’s ring adorned hand waves in front of your face, snapping you back to reality.

“huh?.. what?” you glance around the table to see everyone staring at you.

“the campaign… did you hear anything i just said?” he almost scoffs. usually you’re very intent on listening to him, but today you’re out in left field somewhere.

“uhm- uh.. no?” your shoulders rise up to your ears, corner of your mouth twitching downward.

before he could make fun of you any farther, you open your mouth to cut him off, “i actually… can’t tonight. i have a ballet recital. i kind of- forgot about the meeting.” your voice grows quieter as you talk, eyes falling down to your lap.

everyone around you goes silent, even their chewing and slurping. your eyes reluctantly rise from your hands, looking over eddie’s emotionless face as he stares at you.

his jaw is going to town chewing on food, his mind working a mile a minute behind his eyes. “you mentioned it to me, yeah?” he breaks the tension, swallowing his chewed up food.

“a while back…” you breathe out nervously, teeth chewing on the skin of your bottom lip, “can we change it? so i can play, like tomorrow or next week?” you question experimentally, eyes boring into his.

“since you mentioned it to me… and my dumbass forgot about it. i’ll let it go, but only this once!” he holds up his index finger as he chirps out the last sentence with wide eyes.

“what?!” “no?!” “are you fucking kidding me?!?” some of the boys protest, yelling and banging their fists on the table.

“shut up!” munson squeaks out, “lady flutter-shy is busy, you heard her! we can wait till tomorrow.”

the members of the club collectively groan, making you feel bad for having the meeting rescheduled. you go to apologize, but eddie’s hand lays across your own to stop you.

“hey. don’t worry about it, they’ll be fine.” he uses his free hand to bite into a chicken tender, “so, where’s this recital at anyway?”

you explain to him you’re going to a theatre in the city next to hawkins, that the theme is swan lake and you’re one of the main dancers. he actually seems quite interested in everything you talk about, his eyes trained on you as he eats.

soon the bell rings, causing your immersing conversation to be cut short. eddie sighs as he stands up slowly, the rest of the group disappearing into the crowd to throw away their scraps.

but before you could join, eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist. his grip is tight, but still gentle. “would it be okay if i swung by tonight? i have nothing else going on and i wanna see what all this fancy ballet hype is about.”

his question stuns you, making your mouth drop open in surprise as you stutter over your words, “yeah- uh of course, eddie! of course you can.”

a cheshire cat grin curls up on the boys face from your answer, his hand dropping from your wrist. you couldn’t help but cherish the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles into your skin.

“see ya then.” he hums, eyes slightly glancing over your frame before snatching his food tray and heading to the trash.

eddie fucking munson. the most metal, long haired nerd wants to attend your ballet recital? what alternate dimension are you living in right now?

you don’t see eddie for the rest of the day, having no more classes with him, but all you could think about was seeing him later. even while getting ready for your recital, putting your makeup on, slicking your hair back into a bun, sliding your opaque white tights on and your leotard.

it’s all just eddie, eddie, eddie, eddie.

on the ride to the theatre, your fellow dancers go over the movements with you, which you have down pat. once you all arrive, you file into the back of the theatre and into the dressing rooms by gender to finish getting ready. you definitely expected eddie to stop by before you went on stage, but there’s only five minutes until the show starts.

your instructor claps her hands to get everyone moving, guiding everyone to their spots as the crowds chatter dies down. this is it. it’s time!

you prance on stage, hands curled softly as your arms extend. you twirl and spin to the beautiful music, your eyes glance over the dark crowd, spotting your parents who slyly wave at you.

the music flows through the dancers prancing across the stage, emotion evident on your faces as you act out the play with your fellow ballerinas.

the last act finally rolls around, your eyes still continue to search the crowd for eddie. maybe he didn’t come after all. you use all your built up emotion, pouring it out into your performance. your fellow ballerina catches your waist as you jump, to be able to twirl you around the stage.

finally, the show ends. the curtains close briefly as all the dancers get into a line to bow. the velvet fabric pulls back, house lights on as the ballerinas bend over while the crowd cheers and hollers. flowers are thrown on stage as your team receives a standing ovation.

you bend over at your waist again, holding hands with the people beside you. the curtains close for the final time, making you take a step back and take a deep breath in. your team cheers around you, hugging and giving each other high fives. you run back to the dressing room with everyone else, wanting to get out of these clothes to go search for eddie.

as you’re unwrapping the stiff tutu from around your hips, your instructor pops their head through the door, “hey, y/n! there’s someone here to see you.”

your heart instantly begins to pump even faster, gulping down your rising bile and smoothing over your front. your pointe shoes slap against the ground as you shuffle outside, looking down the dim hallway to see nobody except some stray ballerinas.

someone behind you clears their throat, making you spin around on your heel. eddie is standing there awkwardly, an arranged flower bouquet in his hands. he’s wearing a plain gray tee under his trademark leather jacket, with black ripped jeans and his scuffed combat boots. his hair even seems a bit more tamed than usual.

your face instantly brightens at the sight of him, heart soaring as you run forward to hug him. he lets out a surprised laugh when you almost tackle him to the floor, his arm wrapping securely around your waist when he stumbles backward.

“oh my god! you actually came!” you let out a loud relieved breath, craning your head back from his neck to look at his face. just making sure he’s actually real.

“of course i did, i wouldn’t lie to you, princess.”

the nickname makes your heart flutter giddily, the bouquet is pushed gently against your chest. “this is for you- since you did absolutely amazing.” he rolls his eyes jokingly with a huge grin.

“you needed to watch first to see if i deserved these, huh?” your nose sniffs the wonderful floral scent, smiling as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“definitely. needed to see if your talent lived up to my expectations.” he scoffs, hand still resting comfortably on the dip of your waist. his fingers gently press into the thin fabric of your leotard, digging softly into your doughy side.

the loving look in his eyes makes your stomach flip flop, a surge of confidence running through you. whether it’s from the successful show, or just from being around him.

“in all seriousness though, you did really good tonight. i could watch you do ballet all day.” he sheepishly admits to you.

you’ve always had a tiny crush on him throughout junior high and high school- even with that buzz cut of his. it seems as if that crush you pushed into the back corner of your heart, is developing into something more at this very moment. you yearn to kiss him, to feel his plush lips press against yours, for his hands to roam sinfully over your body, to feel the cold metal of his rings drag across your feverish skin.

“eddie, i need to tell you something, but you’re probably going to think i’m crazy-”

“i would never.” he cuts you off.

“okay good, but just listen. i want you to know that i used to have a crush on you-”

“used to? ouch.”

“eddie!” you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance, “just. listen!”

“okay, okay. then spit it out.”

“okay sooooo… i had a crush on you,” you ignore the face he makes from your words, “buuuuut i think i like you way more now, and i really want to kiss that stupid loud mouth of yours right now, and i know that’s insane because you’re like the club leader or whatever, so if it’s weird then it’s fine, but like-”

your rambling is halted by his lips being pressed to yours, his nose slotting perfectly against your own. his hand stays put on your waist, while the other cradles your jawline. “god, you’re so fucking annoying.” he chuckles against you, pulling your chest flush against his. a fire ignited deep in your belly, wishing you could take this somewhere much more private.

“yeah i know. so are you.” your arms swing around his neck to pull him in for another one, your red lipstick smears all over his face. he slightly bends at the waist to deepen the kiss more, craning your body backwards.

your mothers concerned voice makes you freeze in your spot, pulling away from the kiss immediately. to make matters worse, a string of saliva connects between your lips as you look behind him. your parents are stood with very disappointed looks written across their features, eyeing down eddie like a hawk.

fuuuuuck. this is going to be great.