#this is the whole fic premise

[no-shxme]

there's this one talsett premise i drabbled a lot in private and i still think about it bc its so fun. i'm gonna ramble about it at length under the cut bc... idk... its basically the full summary.

the basic premise was canon runeterra where sett learns about some sorta magical artifact from some dude at the pit that grants a wish. apparently its somewhere deep in the ixtali jungle. sett hates how sad his ma is about his pa leaving, so he decides to make a trip over to wish her pain away.

so he makes the trip over and gets pretty immediately captured by demacian soldiers that are camped out at the start of the jungle (south of piltover) for some reason.. sett doesn't get it, but either way he's interrogated bc demacians are going after this artifact too apparently, (it only becomes available once ever xyz years or smth, some sort of time crunch.) the demacians are led by lux's aunt, tianna crownguard, but sett doesn't know who any of these people are ofc. one of sett's arms is locked in a petricite handcuff and the other end is locked to another captive's arm. and of course it's talon.

talon has been sent to retrieve the artifact on his own, after failing another one of the general's errands. he also got captured (bc really who would expect a bunch of demacians all the way out here) and has tried and failed to escape twice now. then because sett's so big and hard to miss, they're handcuffed together to be each other's ball and chain. sett hates noxians, talon likes personal space, and they both want the same thing. this will be a problem.

they do escape with the help of sett's strength and talon's ability to lockpick doors one-handed and thus begins a mad scramble into the jungle, running from wild animals, demacian soldiers, and other hazards.

problems they encounter include:

the fact that petricite is notoriously impervious, and neither of them can get their cuff off short of cutting off somone's arm. (talon isn't opposed to this.)

the fact that talon can't MAKE sett go anywhere, even at knifepoint, because he dwarfs him in size, weight, and strength. But Sett can drag him wherever he wants, through tall grasses and uphill.

speaking of which, sett drags talon through a river at the end of day 1 of being together, in which talon nearly drowns bc he can't keep up and afterwards that's pretty much talons limit where he has a panic attack bc he just NEEDS some level of control like this is a fucking nightmare. this is also the first time sett feels pity for him.

sett and talon learning to compromise in some ways (also known as talon climbing a tree and hanging on until sett caves to his demands. (his arm is sore.) sett learns that talon has been assigned to steal the artifact on his own, which seems kinda crazy for one lil guy, and sett explains his own reason for finding it. he thinks that his reason is clearly 10x more just and noble but talon's not responsive and it pisses sett off.

they encounter random other champs. kayn (with scythe rhaast) are also looking for the wish, but they part ways more amicably. they also meet neeko just tooling around having a grand time.

sett asks neeko to transform into talon and she does, and then he asks her to smile and is immediately weirded out bc 'talon' smiling like that looks unnatural lol.

talon slowly reveals more information about his father and sett decides he sounds like a fucking asshole.

sett getting ticks on his ears that talon has to cut out bc he's freaking out.

sett carrying talon like a bag of sand over his shoulder.

eventually they reach qiyana's kingdom and i honestly can't remember why they get to live but they do, and they FINALLY get their shackles removed and also a bath. by now they've gotten pretty good at working together, though the problem of who gets the wish boils over. sett gets pissed off bc talon still wont concede the fact that he should totally get the wish for his ma. talon is still adamant that he needs it, and sett tells him he's stupid cause his dad's an asshole and talon snaps that he knows that. and sett realizes that talon actually just wants the wish for himself because he sees it as the only way to 100% escape his abusive circumstances. his dad just sent him to the jungle after his latest failure, basically dooming him to a wild goose chase with no real chance of success.

there's a little backstabbery at the end. a race between talon and sett (now uncuffed), and kayn and the demacians. (tiana crownguard wants to wish her niece's magic away, since she'd discovered lux's secret and wants to do it for her own safety). at the very end sett tries to make a deal with talon to help him get away from his father but talon doesn't trust him and instead sticks him with some natural paralytic (doesn't kill him) and goes on without him. sett recovers quickly due to size and natural resilience. by the time he gets to the spot, high up in a perilous cliff-side he's basically in the thick of it. the ending conflict forces him to make a choice between saving talon from falling to his death even though he betrayed him, or getting his wish. and ofc he ends up saving talon. he's learned to empathize with him. kayn gets the wish (and rhaast gets his own body.) and sett ends up taking talon home anyway like he'd offered to, even though he betrayed him. demacians just lose lol.

that's basically the whole thing. my god this was long sorry. i decided not to write it bc i dreaded writing the environments and i knew itd be long, though i did write some scenes from it. i just love the premise of sett and talon handcuffed together so bad. if i ever have the chance to sneak it into another fic i totally will.

[flowercrowngods]

hello i’m attempting something for steddie week too, but it'll be one large thing probably @steddie-week

day 01: pining

2 new messages

eddie The Problem munson: —steeb —esteban —stefano  —stevie —love of my life apple of my eye pls pls tell me i can call you  —i am very chill etc etc —no i’m not  —let me call youuuu  —😠🥺🙏

Steve snorts as he picks up his phone and reads Eddie’s messages that keep coming in his usual spam of consciousness, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest as he snorts and goes to answer. 

— Call me then, coward 

Not a second later, his phone rings. Steve picks up immediately, even though he considers making Eddie wait; just to be difficult. Just to calm his racing heart that is always so lively around Eddie. 

“What,” he says, attempting to sound bored and annoyed — in vain, because even he can hear the smile on his face. Traitor, he thinks to himself. 

“Steve,” Eddie sing-songs, drawing out Steve’s name like he does every time he’s happy. “Steve, Steve, Stevie.” 

“Ed, Ed, Eddie,” he sings back, relaxing into his couch and shutting the laptop. Lesson planning can wait, he decides, shuffling all the loose pages into the text book and placing his laptop on the pile, trusting that physics won’t betray him. “What’s got you so happy, hm?” 

“Why do you think I’m happy?” Damn idiot has a smile on his face as he asks that, Steve can hear it. It makes his own grin widen and he huffs into the phone. 

“I literally know you, babe.” 

Babe. His heart flutters every time he says it — and he tries not to, because it’s meaningless, it’ll never happen. But Eddie picks it back up every time, and Steve is weak. God, he is so, so weak. 

On the other end, Eddie hums and Steve basks in the sound for a moment. It’s always so contagious, Eddie’s happiness, and he wants to soak it all up. Wants to be the reason for it. Wants, wants, wants. 

“You do,” Eddie says, his voice so light and fond it makes Steve’s whole body tingle. And his heart flutter. And it fills him with such happiness that he feels like he could take on the entire world right now, just with the way Eddie’s voice went all soft on him. 

God, he’s hopeless. So, so hopeless. But he’s also weak. An addict, leeching off Eddie’s attention, getting a kick out of the smallest dose, and absolutely certain he couldn’t survive if it were taken from him. He needs it. Even if it kills him a little bit, because— 

“She said yes.” 

Steve blinks. “Huh?” 

“Chrissy. She said— She said yes, Stevie. We’re getting married.” 

He says it and he sounds so happy. So, so happy. And Steve is the world’s worst best friend for the way he freezes, the way he almost drops his phone if it weren’t for the vice grip he has on it, frozen in time and space because his heart has stopped beating. It has stopped, surely, because no beating heart can hurt this much. No beating heart can crack open and still work the way it used to three, five, seven seconds ago. 

Eddie, bless his entire soul, laughs to fill the silence, and it’s the happiest sound. A boyish one, like there is no pain in the world and not a worry on his mind. A bit hysterical, too. Like he can’t believe it himself yet. Like this is the best day of his life and saying it again has reminded him of it. At least that’s what Steve imagines it feels like when someone wants to be married to you. He wouldn’t know, of course, as the only person he would ever ask is already engaged to someone else. Apparently. 

Eddie is engaged. 

Engaged and laughing and so, so happy. 

And Steve feels nauseous. Dizzy. Breathless. His eyes begin to sting and the hand that’s holding his phone begins to tremble, his grip so tight it hurts. 

Steve feels… too much. His hands tremble and he tries hard not to cry. 

“You’re getting married.” 

“We’re getting married.” 

They’re getting married. 

Fuck. 

Someone has to tell Robin. Because in true Platonic Soulmate manner, Steve and Robin fell in love with the two people who are in love with each other. Like the chaotic mess they are. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner,” Eddie continues, a bit more sober now. Sounding genuine and sufficiently awkward about it, in true Eddie-manner. Like the big old softie he secretly is. “I would have, but…” 

But I know you’re in love with me and didn’t want to burden you with the love I carry for someone who isn’t you, Steve’s brain auto-fills helpfully. But you keep flirting with me and there was never room for someone else when I was with you. 

But, but, but— 

He swallows and drags in a deep breath past the pain in his throat where all the words he can never say are forming a massive lump. 

“Hey man, don’t worry about that, we all know I suck at keeping secrets,” he offers. And it’s a lie, because he has kept this one thing secret for years and years. This one thing, this huge and all-encompassing thing that he can feel in the tips of his fingers when he is texting Eddie, and on his tongue when they are talking, and in his heart even when he is sleeping. 

This one thing, this one secret, is his never-ending love for Eddie. 

And he will add another one to that, a lovely little friend for it. To keep it company. That other secret, of course, will be the way his heart has shattered into a million little pieces and will remain that way until he can’t even look at Eddie anymore. And even then will he look at Eddie and smile at him, and Eddie will smile back and the pain will flare up again.

Again and again and again, for the rest of their lives. Possibly even beyond that. 

“You do suck at that,” Eddie chuckles, though it is quieter this time, almost private. Fond. Gentle. Always, always like that. It used to mean something once. And if Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine that Eddie smiles his secret smile, the one Steve has only seen directed at himself. It almost breaks him. 

Eddie’s I have known you for a whole eternity and love you beyond words, silly, but you also make my life so much harder-smile. That’s what he has dubbed it because that is what Eddie had said the first time he smiled like that when Steve was drunk off his ass. 

But. But, but, but— 

It’s no use to think of that now, to reminisce and imagine what might have been if… Well. If Steve weren’t Steve. 

And that sure is a dark path he doesn’t want to trudge now, not in the face of the even darker path of Eddie getting married that he sure as hell will have to walk down for the rest of his life. 

He sighs and tries to think of something to say. Something good. Something that is not Please don’t marry Chrissy. Please don’t take yourself away from me. Please. Please don’t get married to anyone who isn’t me. Please open your eyes and see me, please listen to me, please understand what I say when I say I love you. Please.  

He kind of spaces out for the rest of the conversation, not really listening to Eddie’s words over the ringing in his ears and the pumping beat of his shattered heart. 

Eddie speaks softly to him, the undercurrent of happiness and contentment still in his voice, and it would give Steve life, it would be contagious, it would be so very precious if it didn’t also drive the knife of pain ever deeper into Steve’s entire soul, slicing him apart with no one around to put him back together again.  

Splitting him in half. One half that just wants Eddie to be happy, to sound like he does right now for ever and ever. And the other half, loathing that Eddie’s happiness is not inspired by him, not because of him, not in any sort of relation to him. 

It’s not fair. And Steve is torn. So he shuts himself off and lets Eddie ramble, tells him that he is tired after pulling an all-nighter again and wrangling the his difficult seventh graders that were particularly hard on him today when the other man asks him if he is all right. 

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, and a traitorous tear rolls down Steve’s cheek at the caring exasperation he hears there. “How often do I need to tell you that sleep is important? You’re gonna wear yourself out at this rate. And the kids just suck.”  

“I know,” he says, and sniffs, willing the tears to not fall. Not until Eddie has hung up on him. 

“Aww. That emotional, huh?” 

At that, Steve sobs out a laugh and gladly accepts the way out. “Well, excuse me, my bestest friend whom I love very much is getting married soon! Or, well, I hope it’s soon, nobody has time for all that suspense. Anyway, I am allowed to be emotional about this!” 

Eddie chuckles again and sighs gently. “Yes, you are. I’m glad you are. Thank you, Stevie.” 

Don’t thank me. Not for this. Not over this, please, don’t thank me. 

“Don’t thank me,” he says with a grin, and it hurts his cheeks from how forced it is. “Thank yourself for being brave enough to actually go through with the proposal! We both know you’re chicken shit.” 

Just like me, he thinks. Just like me. 

They laugh and it sounds hollow to Steve’s ears. He just wants the phone call to end, wants this to be over with. Wants them to not get married. Never, ever, in this life or the next. 

He wants… he wants Robin. No, he needs his best friend, his soulmate. He can’t cry alone, not about this. 

Eventually, Eddie hangs up, that smile still so audibly his lips, and that painful happiness still very clear in his voice. Steve wants to share it. But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the phone in his trembling hand before he closes his eyes and lets himself cry, his head falling back against the couch until he slumps over to one side. He stares and he cries until he can’t anymore. 

Eddie. The love of his life. Is getting married. To Chrissy, the other, platonic love of his life, who is like a sister to him. Who, coincidentally, is the love of his real platonic soulmate’s life.

Fucking hell, the mess they find themselves in!

After a while of pitifully staring at the wall, all cried out and feeling thoroughly pathetic, he lifts his phone and speed-dials Robin. 

“Stevie?” 

He sniffs, and it must sound as awful as he feels, for her next words are, “I’ll be right there. Alcohol or ice cream?” 

“Both?” he whimpers after a moment, and Robin hums right back. 

“I’ve got you. I’ll be there in ten.” 

She hangs up before he can say anything more, and he is overcome with all the love he holds for her. 

As he waits for her to come over, he does not move from the awkwardly half curled-up position on his couch, the lesson plans for tomorrow forgotten completely. This is his life now. His Eddie-less life. His engaged-Eddie life. His loveless, hopeless, endlessly pitiful life. 

come back tomorrow for: bittersweet & angst | read here

[sixteenth-days]

has anyone asked for watcher mumbo yet

"Grian," Pearl said, after a moment, "are you contagious?"

Grian made a sour expression as he shoved Mumbo past her into her base; she stepped aside, eyebrows raised. "I haven't got a virus, Pearl."

"Just asking," she said, pushing the door shut behind him. "Cause, you know, I'm pretty sure the last time I saw Mumbo, he had two eyes."

"What's important is that it's not my fault," Grian said, bundling Mumbo onto a sofa. Mumbo was staring at nothing, in about fifty different directions. Well, that was worrying.

Pearl looked at Grian doubtfully.

"It's not! It's actually not!" Grian said, defensive. "I didn't do anything! He stole my soul!"

Pearl went to flick Mumbo in the forehead, smoothly averted the gesture when she couldn't spot a clear patch of skin to target. "Well, what on earth did you go and do that for?" she asked him, not really anticipating a response.

"Mind, I'm not sure if he actually is a Watcher now or if he just looks like one," Grian said thoughtfully. "I guess that's his thing this season, is looking like what he eats, did you know?"

"Huh," Pearl said back, and squinted. "What would be the difference?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Grian admitted after a moment. "Maybe when he's coherent again we can ask him if he feels like his soul's been fundamentally reshaped or not."

"And when do you think that's going to be?" Pearl asked dubiously. She snapped her fingers in front of Mumbo's face a few times to emphasize the point. A trio of eyes blinked at her.

Grian shrugged. "Few hours? This is easier when it happens in the void. There's a lot less to look at."

"Alright. Well, I'm not getting any work done until then, I guess. Wanna watch a movie?"

[tswwwit]

Cipher's Personal Portable Portal Part 2

Here's the link to the first one! This picks up immediately after.

About five minutes later, with several pages of his notebook filled out and still frantically scribbling, Dipper decides this was a great idea. 

Bill’s explanations are startlingly detailed, if delivered with little context and a lot of assumptions of prior knowledge. Like listening to the instructions of a master, skillfully explained at a damning pace that makes keeping up a challenge. 

No wonder Bill was able to make the phone if this is the level he’s working at. On the staircase of skill, he’s sitting near the top, waving tauntingly to anyone below him over the railing.

There’s a kind of excitement, too. Not just on Dipper’s part - even Bill, amazingly, seems happy that Dipper’s keeping up, until he’s practically trying to outrun him. 

And failing. Bill picked the wrong subject if he wanted to test brains. Dipper’s going to give him a run for his money.

The discussion continues longer than he expected, both lively and rapid. Demonic knowledge never seemed like it would have *that* much kick to it. At some level, Dipper kind of expected it to be primal and instinctual - but instead of delivering magic with brute force, Bill talks in high-level theory. Still practiced with more power than a human could manage. But clever.

He jots down that in his notes before he forgets. The difference between a regular demon and a really dangerous demon likely has less to do with raw power, and more on how they use it. Not so different from people, then. 

Dipper pauses as his wrist starts aching from notes. It gives him space to think, and grimace. 

Curiosity is great and all. But he has got to be cautious here. 

Bad ideas have wrecked older, more talented magicians than him. He knows the lure of knowledge, and how easily he could be suckered into some kind of trap. Demons are simultaneously a great source of creative knowledge - and awful, in terms of tricks.

Learning one spell, though, and one he’s already mastered the normal way, probably isn’t going to hurt. And it has been a while since he’s talked to someone like this. 

A person not bored senseless by talking spellcraft. Someone who keeps up with the conversation, fully engaged, without needing a primer. Who doesn’t think that ‘good enough’ is actually good enough, when you could do it better and cooler.

Their entire conversation might be more worrying, actually -  if Bill wasn’t kind of a nerd. 

Clearly he gets a kick out of teaching, if the enthusiasm and exclamation points are any indication. All his insights are precise and sharp, his concepts clever - 

And he doesn’t dismiss Dipper’s weirder ideas. No, he has opinions on them. Loud ones. 

Said opinions are also less-than-moral. But it’s weirdly fun to argue the details. Dipper quickly learns that enough nitpicking and ‘bet you can’t’ taunts turn the more explosive concepts into usable ones.

With such a strange conversation partner, it ends up going places he never expected. Teaching merges into tangents, into strange stories from Bill himself, and arguments about magic. 

Eventually it leads into stories about Dipper’s own exploits. With more detail than he’d usually go into. The last time he talked work with someone, they left early and unmatched him on the app - but Bill’s clearly interested in magical freelancing. The pull is hard to resist.

So there I am in the pouring rain, covered in god knows what with an angry cannibalistic gryphon tied up in the ditch, when Jacob Jensen steps in front of the whole crowd and thanks his ‘helpful assistant’. For pulling off the plan HE put together. 

And it’s not like I could say anything, the silence spell was still up. 

HA HA HA HA! Oh man, you’re a walking comedy of errors. How does one human even get into this kinda crap? It’s hilarious!

But seriously, you shoulda cursed the guy. Not the kind of thing you should let your rivals get away with, kid.

Dipper rolls his eyes at the text. Another immoral solution, provided by an immoral being. He’ll ignore it, just like all the others. 

Arguably he shouldn’t be talking to a demon about, like, literally *any* of this. Keeping the details of his life close to his chest. But it’s like Bill can do anything about it, either to make it better or worse. He’s a bajillion lightyears and a dimension away. 

No, Bill, for like the fifth time, I don’t hex people. Even if they deserve it. Though in hindsight, I should have kept the dispelling spell charged.

Aha! There’s your problem! Not the skills, but speaking up about ‘em! Try some showmanship! Competence isn’t everything. Hell, compared to a great sales pitch, it’s basically nothing.

I guess. My great-uncle’s great at that stuff, but it never really took. 

Sounds like you need a hype man! Someone who can get the word out about your talents. A guy who could bolster your rep. Hell, you could be a real star! Everyone could hear about your hero junk, including in their DREAMS. In fact - I might even have a deal, just for you!

Dipper snorts. He saw this coming a mile away. A demon would, of course, try to sucker him into a bad deal. It’s their entire thing.

He doesn’t take it poorly, though, despite the danger. Bill’s own sales pitch is clearly an off the cuff reflex, rather than a real swing at it. Like Stan pitching an ‘extended warranty’ to a customer, even when they’ve already bargained him down on the price of a souvenir.

Uh huh. Let me guess. I sell my soul, then your ad is going to be, like, ‘HEY! Hire this guy or you’ll find snakes in your bed! In your socks! In your wheat and wheat byproducts! Save yourself from snake terror and do it today!’

There’s a suspiciously long pause before the next reply.

Look, it doesn’t have to be snakes. There’s plenty of critters you can stuff into a cereal box.

The telltale tone of a conman who knows his pitch was shit. Dipper smirks.

Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll handle my own advertising. You’ve already taught me a few things about having a massive bloated ego. 

Ha ha! You’re sassy company when you get worked up, human, it’s pretty hilarious! Like a hissy kitten or a dragon cub! Including all the sharp bits.

Dipper forces the smile off his face, frowning again. He’s not a kitten, for one. No matter how he sneezes. And two - that was barely a compliment, and only if the receiver is already weird.

Bill might be clever. He has his own strange charisma. Definitely a type of fascinating, intelligent monster - but he’s also evil and a jerk. 

Still. He figures he’ll keep talking to the guy. It’s not like there’s too much danger, what with him literally being in another dimension. 

Besides, how long has it been since he’s talked to anyone but his great-uncle about magic, in this  much detail? Longer than Dipper can remember, that’s for sure. For all that Bill’s a demonic dickwad, anyone who wanted to learn complicated spells would be lucky to talk to him.

A thought strikes. 

Dipper looks up from the demon phone. Darting a glance to his notebook, then back at the artifact. 

Strange magic. Impossible spells. The scene of the crime, with this object buried under bits of the destruction. 

The culprit was there, in the museum. And that fire he uses. It defies most known magic physics, powerful and weird. Not to mention the giant anvil incident, or the animated water tower, and half of the really weird curses, all of them requiring magical knowledge and power - 

Where did Dipper’s target learn his special spells?

Thinking carefully about his words, he types out a quick question. Very casual, avoiding details that might lead to suspicion.

Speaking of company. Has anyone else talked to you recently? 

Nah, it’s been a few centuries. You humans are usually pretty boring!

Grimacing, Dipper sighs. That’s a bad sign for his theory. He presses further.

So there ISN’T actually a group of people, quote, ‘craving your infinite knowledge’? A bunch of guys you’re feeding secret demon information?

Hey!! Of course I’m in high demand, I’m fantastic. But I’m ALSO not passing my number out to every mortal who wanders by, jackass. I have standards! High ones!

Dipper mulls over that statement. He’s only known Bill for a few hours, but he’s sure that teaching a human how to cause tons of chaos on Earth? Is totally up his alley. 

And because he’s known him for hours, he thinks that was actually true. 

Changing the topic, or filling the chat with distractions. Anything that would lead Dipper down the merry trail of another topic - all of that would be very demonic, and very suspicious. 

Confrontation of a question, and one Dipper didn’t know he was asking, is a different story.

Bill’s not lying, surprisingly enough. He’s annoyed, because Dipper implied he was a… loose woman. Demon. Whatever their equivalent is. 

Letting out a disappointed sigh, Dipper runs a hand through his hair. 

If he’s the first human to talk to Bill in hundreds of years… Then the target didn’t ever have the phone, much less conveniently drop it at the scene of his crime. He came by his power in some other dishonest, evil way. 

Welp. It was worth a shot, even if it was one in the dark. Back to square one, then.

Though what Bill said does bring up another question. 

That’s funny. You’ve spent a lot of time talking to me.

Yeah, yeah, I’ll admit it - You’re fun enough! Silence is only golden when I’m in it, and even then it gets boring. 

I mighta picked someone less goody-two-shoes personally, but you got brains, kid. That’s rare.

This time, Dipper allows himself to smile. He’s not so paranoid as to turn his nose up at an actual compliment. 

Same to you. For a demon, I guess you’re not as awful as I thought you’d be.

Ha ha ha! Oh, cutie - I’m worse! A real bad boy, as you mortals say! Ten bucks says that’s your thing, am I right?

Warmth builds in Dipper’s face. That’s - He shuts his eyes, rubbing them briefly. 

Okay. He must be interpreting that wrong. These beings are super weird. And Bill’s a jerk. Besides, he’s probably some… multi-eyed flesh tangle, or giant cockroach. Maybe even an abstract concept. 

That was just a condescending comment from a condescending being, devoid of any human meaning. Best not to read too much into it.

For lack of a better response, he texts back, Shut up.

Never! Too bad I gotta run for now, but I know I’ll be hearing from you. You’re a curious guy! Just filled to the brim with it!

And I got plenty of ways to satisfy.

Dipper starts typing a response, but the keyboard's gone. The last bit of Bill’s message slowly fades until the screen goes dark again. 

Okay, it’s - whatever. So Dipper didn’t get the last word in. He didn’t need to anyway. 

Dropping the demon phone, he pulls the flat hotel pillow over his face. If he doesn’t see the damn texts, maybe they’ll stop lingering in his head.

 God, if this is what the slightest bit of attention does to him, he’s really got to download the dating apps again. Or talk to his family more than a phone call once every few days. Talk to real, actual humans.

He’s just been on the road too long, is all. When’s the last time he had a conversation with someone that wasn’t about work? Much less a person who’s kind of. Way more confident than him, and pretty smart, with a weird charm in his tone.. 

Dipper slaps himself on the forehead, dragging a hand down his face. He makes a ‘blguh’ sound, reminding himself not to get distracted.

That conversation did last a while, though. Night has long since fallen. No major magical mishaps have occurred to drag him out of this shitty bed. The brief respite comes as a profound relief. 

Dipper yawns, rolling onto his side. 

Weird extradimensional conversation aside, he’s got a big day tomorrow. Doing important stuff. Solving this mystery. Finding the man responsible for all the trouble, and making sure he never manages it again.

If he can manage it. If he can find him in the first place. If he doesn’t get burnt to a crisp in the confrontation, or run out of money on a dead-end endeavor, or look like a total idiot by finding a guy but it turns out to be the wrong one, making him start from scratch. 

A thousand possibilities of failure. A billion ways things could go wrong. Dipper shoves his face into the pillow, and tries to quiet his own thoughts.

Eventually, tossing and turning, he manages a restless sleep.

The next day’s surprisingly quiet. No major magical incidents, no screams in the streets. A pretty calm day, all things considered.

As always, Dipper goes through the motions, setting up his ritual circle and sitting in mediation. His senses creep into the thin net of magic, searching for any movement like a spider in a web.

The only way he's found to keep up with the culprit is tracing the energy of his incantations, and following the leylines like they’re a roadmap. They vibrate like a plucked note on a string, right before each incident. Tracking such a vague line is a stretch for most magicians; even Dipper’s gotten turned around once or twice.

Problem is, he has to wait until the culprit’s already cast his magic to be able to follow his trail. By the time he catches up to the jerk’s location, nobody’s been there to pin the blame on. Even the few witnesses he’s spoken to have little to report. 

The upside is that said reports are very consistent. The descriptions are of a blonde man, fairly tall. Wearing a too-big smile along with too-formal fashion - and nobody is ever sure how he got in the place or out again. 

It adds a few hangups, but the similar description helps Dipper’s theory. It’s the same person, every time. One or two people might agree on a few details out of sheer chance. Nearly two dozen, all with the same image, is proof.

Now if only someone knew where to find the bastard.

There are cases and monsters that are ‘more important’, he guesses. In body count, at least. Single digit deaths - even if they’re weirdly creative ones - doesn’t sound super cool on a ‘monster hunting’ resume, considering what others can, and do, get up to.

That doesn’t mean this criminal isn’t a big deal, though. Somehow, the major magic they're doing has ripple effects. One of their ‘minor’ incidents can stir up enough latent magic in the area to lead to half a dozen smaller events, weeks or months later. 

Somehow, this jerk is causing more flat-out chaos than every other monster combined, by a factor of five. 

Dipper knows. He’s done the math. 

He sits in intent focus for a long time; a half an hour when he checks his watch after. The tracing spell is intact, invisibly waiting for something to stumble over its tripwire.

Nothing has, though. Wherever his target holed up for the night, he hasn’t moved on since. 

Maybe the plan is to pull something else in town. Or maybe one of those artifacts he melted exploded right in his face, leaving the jerk recuperating, or even dead. That would serve him right. 

Either way, Dipper won’t know until either a body is found, or the guy makes a move. The odds of stumbling across the culprit are pretty low. 

Dipper leaves the circle set up, just in case. A couple quick cantrips later, and it’s connected to his watch. If there’s any movement, he’ll know in a heartbeat. 

Though if he’s being honest? He hopes there isn’t, at least for a while. Running around in this criminal’s footsteps is a job in and of itself.

God, it’d be nice to have a vacation one day.

Dipper stretches as he steps out into bright sunlight. For the last week he’s been constantly on the move, driving on backwoods roads and through tangled cities and just. Staying up too late. Wondering what the mysterious criminal is up to. One uninterrupted if restless night’s sleep has helped his mood.

When this is over, he’s going to go ahead and take a full week off. Maybe a month. Let himself lounge around in bed without a care, in a place he doesn’t rent out night to night. Long, luxurious showers where he doesn’t have to spring out at the next notification, or figure out how to get where he’s headed next. Something nice and calm and… 

Well, not totally free of chaos. Dipper could have taken an office job somewhere, or worked in the government, if that’s what he wanted. But maybe a year or so at less of a breakneck pace. Fewer massively dangerous monsters.

That reminds him. Dipper pauses at the hotel entrance, patting his pockets. 

Yep, one regular phone, one demonic. Good thing, too. If anyone else got their hands on that artifact, it could spell total disaster. 

He breathes it in slowly, before feeling a pang of hunger that comes with an audible growl. Skipping dinner yesterday, probably not his best choice. 

The good news is, in a morning surprisingly full of it, is that there’s a diner in walking distance. It isn’t even expensive. 

Dipper holes up in a booth in the corner, relieved at the lack of other customers. More peace, more quiet. The waitress fills his coffee without comment, and the bitter burn of it makes him feel more human after the first two cups. 

There’s a quick beep from his phone. He puts down the coffee, reaching for his pocket - then pauses. 

It wasn’t his regular notification sound. 

It was weird.

Dipper checks over his shoulder, a paranoid instinct. Again it’s quiet, not early enough for the early birds and not late enough for lunch. And hell, even if most of the diner wasn’t empty, it’s not like anyone cares about a person texting. Nobody can tell who or what he’s talking to.

He pulls the artifact out. The scrawl on the screen has their old messages, plus one new one.

Hey! Bored again! Whatcha up to, kid?

Dipper rolls his eyes. 

Bill is many things - demon, weird, intelligent, astute. Total jerk. Surely he has better things to do than text the mortal that ended up with his weird-ass artifact. If he knows what phones are, surely he has internet.

Still, he writes back. Maybe more boring stuff will get on Bill's possibly nonexistent nerves.

Pancakes. You?

Booo, that’s lame! I thought your life was more exciting than this! At least say something about crazy syrup flavors, I’m dying here.

Sorry, no dice. Normally my job keeps me pretty busy. but I have a nice, boring day off today. Assuming nothing goes wrong. 

Now there’s a topic! We covered the problem-solver bit earlier - but I know you’re not just doing BASIC stuff, because spying on you isn’t working as great as I’d like! What kinda wards you got up? Go into extra detail! It’s totally safe!

Suddenly checking over his shoulder doesn’t feel like enough paranoia. Dipper scoots a little further into the diner booth, hunching over. It’s not every day he remembers to put up those protections. Now he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget again. 

Don’t think they’re doing you THAT much good, anyway! I know what city you’re in!

Dipper sits up straighter.

Aha. ‘City’, Bill says. Not ‘neighborhood’ or ‘building’, or even ‘the backmost booth in that crappy diner’. Bill might have the broad strokes of where he’s located, but it’s far less specific than he’s letting on.

Wow. Totally not suspicious, Bill. Definitely letting my guard down now.

Can’t blame a guy for trying! 

Entertain me, then. It’s not like you got anything better going on, you said so yourself! Spill the beans, kid! How ‘bout starting with a name?

Giving out his name should be safe-ish. Technically it’s a nickname anyway, so there’s not too much awful stuff Bill could pull. 

It’s Dipper. 

What, like a hillbilly’s tin cup?

Like the constellation, dumbass.

Ol' Ursa Major, huh? And here I had pegged you for more of a twink than a bear!

How does Bill even know those words? Where would he - actually, Dipper doesn’t want to know. Bill probably ate someone’s brains, or picked it up in some wet dream. Whatever gross method a ‘dream demon’ uses to learn about human life.

I don’t even know how to respond to that, so I won’t. 

What about you? What are you up to?

Today, not much! Normally I do whatever’s fun at the time! Making nightmares, eating childhood memories, robbing interdimensional banks, texting cute guys, that sorta thing. A few other extracurriculars when I get the chance. 

Dipper blinks a few times. He has to set the phone down, rubbing at his temples. 

Why does his imagination have to be overactive at the worst times. He really has to get out more. Better yet, he should put this phone down, pick up the other, and start swiping right on whoever’s nearby.

Before he can even begin to formulate a response, Bill texts again. 

Right now, though, I’m waiting out a multiversal cosmos disruption. Kinda like being stuck inside during terrible weather! It’s a real drag staring out the window watching the debris fly by and not even being the one who caused it.

Wow. Rampant destruction! Sounds like a totally ethical hobby. 

Ethics, shmethics! What a totally human hangup. Don’t you ever have any fun?

Dipper spends a few seconds thinking how to respond. Of course he has fun, he’s got the most fun-loving sister ever, and he’s… 

Okay, maybe the last time he met up with someone for ‘fun’ was Mabel. And technically it’s been almost a year since they’ve been face to face - but he still does stuff on his own! Occasionally. 

Other things are more important. He can do ‘fun’ stuff later. Once this particular case is over, he’ll actually have some time for it.

Another beep catches his attention.

The silence speaks VOLUMES. Jeez, is it all work, work, work with you? You didn’t seem like that big a stick in the mud!

I’ve just. Been busy.

Busy NOT HAVING FUN!!! 

Yeah, well. Some of us have stuff like ‘bills’, that aren’t you, to pay. And reputations they’re building. 

The advertisement deal’s still on offer, btw! Take it up anytime!

No thanks, and a little go fuck yourself. 

HA! Gosh, you’re cute. But we were talking about FUN, here! You gotta have some hobbies, right?

Nothing as exciting as ‘rampant chaos’.

C’mon, kid, I’m asking. Indulge me. Movies? Games? Bloody revenge? And as for chaos - don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. I got PLENTY of tricks in that vein and they all RULE. Ever thrown a building on someone who annoyed you?

Dipper thinks back on the trick Bill showed him yesterday. The change and redirection. The power required… 

It’s an exaggeration. Has to be. Or more likely, knowing demons, it requires some horrible sacrifice - but Dipper can see how others would find it tempting.

…Okay, I’ll admit it sounds cool if they’re unoccupied, but seriously, I’m gonna pass.

Eh, you’ll change your mind. I’m always gonna be around! You’ll take a deal one day!

Shut up. Anyway, I like puzzles? And spells and magic and stuff. But you already knew that. 

And…???

And mystery novels, and action movies, and, uh. Dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons, which yeah, I know, nerdy. Honestly, a lot of nerd stuff. 

I bet you’re gonna start typing ‘nerd’ in allcaps then backspace once you read me owning it.

A few seconds after he sends that, the typing dots appear, then disappear. Dipper smirks.

Whatever, NERD. I bet you’ve been ‘too busy’ with your boring ‘job’ to even kill some player characters in a fantasy game! Didja cast your character sheet in a fire and ritually burn your d20 when you gave up ALL joy in life?

….Okay, it’s been a bit, but fuck off.

Also, ‘nerd’. Says the guy who knows what a d20 is.

I know everything, kid! Doesn’t make me a nerd like you!

Says the guy who does advanced magical calculus

Oh, please. Big shot talking here. It comes with the territory! 

Dipper sits up straighter. Now that’s a blatant lie. ‘Big shot’ or not, nobody delves that deep in theory unless they’re paid to or they like it. 

Dude, I could copy/paste you having OPINIONS about Ergot’s Transition Theorem from YESTERDAY. 

Total nerd stuff.

Bill’s furious response comes with a warmth under Dipper’s palms, and a faint blue flame on the screen - though not nearly as hot as yesterday. He snorts, watching the typing dots as they last for over a minute.

They bicker back and forth, quick and easy and - Dipper has to admit it - kind of fun. Bill’s ego is huge and he loves insulting people. Maybe he doesn’t have many people insult him back, because he keeps being surprised when Dipper has a retort.

So far - and it will be so far, by Bill’s own admission - talking to a demon doesn’t seem too dangerous. 

Whatever else Bill might want, his main motivation genuinely seems to be entertainment. Nobody texts randomly about technically mundane stuff unless they're bored. Or continues the conversation unless they're enjoying it.

It's clear, under all the bluster and ego, that Bill's truly excited to have a new person to talk to. Someone who shares his interests, who can keep up a conversation, intriguing and combative in equal portions… 

Yeah, Dipper sees how that would be enough to keep talking to some random weirdo. Even if it’s not a great idea. 

Bill also seems to be angling for something. Dipper can’t tell what it is. It’s just a sense he has, from an odd turn of phrase here and there, a couple indiscernible metaphors. 

He’s still frowning at a sentence - it came through in odd symbols instead of English  - when the next line comes in.

So I take it you’re NOT dating a whole bunch of cute guys, gals, or other assorted entities, then using their heartbreak to power your motorcycle?

I’m like, 99% sure you can’t actually use heartbreak that way, and I don’t have a motorcycle. Also, no, not seeing anyone. 

So if you’re trying to use a boyfriend or whatever to get to me, you’re out of luck.

Ha! Your lack of love life isn’t a problem, sapling! The opposite of one, in fact!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Every time he thinks he knows what Bill’s up to, he finds another way to be bizarre. 

Another statement it’s probably better to ignore. The questions are constant. And he doesn’t have to answer all of them. Honestly, it’s a better idea not to. Demon, after all.

But if Bill’s going to interrogate him, it’s only fair to flip the script.

I think it’s MY turn to ask questions.

Sure, why not? Go for it!

That was easy. Perhaps too easy. 

Dipper narrows his eyes, but his mind races with questions. Ones he’s never had the chance to ask, things that couldn’t be found with rumors or books or even deadly personal interactions. 

Getting honest answers from an extradimensional being is the type of thing scholars would have fistfights over. 

Dipper, though, is handling this super well. He only has to delete a half-dozen sentences before he decides to keep it short. 

Tell me about being a demon. 

Like, where do you even live? Do you have a house? A den? Do you live in groups, or is this a solitary thing? 

Do you guys even HAVE love lives or were you just trying to egg me on about being single.

Pfft, not ALL demons sit around in caves waiting to snag anything nearby. You must be talking about those low-level chumps! I’m way more important!

See, you’re talking to one of the top dogs in the whole biz. An infinite being of pure energy! I got a penthouse at the top level of my own terror pyramid, the realm of the mind under my thumb, a cool group of henchmen - AND I’m single and ready to mingle! 

Taking that with a huge dose of salt, Dipper scribbles it down in his notes. At least half of that must be bragging. Major demons don’t just ‘hang out’ with humans, they devour them - but it’s interesting to see how Bill sees himself.

What’s it like over there? Actually, where the hell are you? Hell?

He finally asks! I thought I’d have to bring it up! And no, it’s not hell - it’s WAY weirder than that!

Dipper holds the demon phone a little further away from himself, suddenly wary. Even though he’s only known the guy for like a day, he senses the floodgates opening.

Bill’s going to brag.

I’ve got full reign of the liminal space known as the Nightmare Realm. The whole vast unconscious squished like a ripe eyeball under my thumb, AND it’s a pretty wild place to be! It’d blow your tiny mind if I wasn’t saving that for myself!

Like last week, there was this party, y’see? So I was at the bar, and - And there it is. 

Demon information. Right from the source, and best of all: absolutely free from any so-called ‘deals’. 

Since Dipper asked indirectly, the facts come in the same manner. Less of a list, more of a longwinded story told from the perspective of someone who always thinks he’s the main character. Dipper has to glean them through Bill’s stories for the details, rather than being instructed. But that, in turn, ensures that they’re actually true.

Well, mostly true. A significant portion of his notes get marked with a new little notation symbol he made up, just for Bill: Probably Exaggerated

Dipper’s hand cramps trying to keep up. Syrup is smudged in his notebook, making the pages stick together. He licks his thumb trying to wipe them off, then just puts tongue to page instead. 

Still, it goes on for long enough that the torrent eventually slows. The more minor details repeat; the stories become less ‘what the fuck’ for demon power and culture reasons, and more ‘what the fuck’ for Bill-related ones.

Also, he’s absolutely bragging. To an extent that quickly evolves from ‘annoying’ to ‘obnoxious’, right around into ‘make fun of this guy’.

That part ends up entertaining. Bickering over whether or not Bill is a ‘big shot’, or ‘super cool’. He might portray himself that way, but there’s got to be more to it. 

Unfortunately Dipper can’t argue on the cultural level - but he can match Bill’s level of sheer annoyance. People have always said his pedantry is irritating? Fine. Here’s a perfect target.

They go back and forth, over and over again. Dipper pulls as much semantics as possible to undercut his opponent’s ego, poking holes in every definition Bill tries to twist in his favor. Citing examples, where he can, where Bill could be interpreted as the massive freakin’ dork he actually is. And while he’s only about ten percent successful, it still feels like a victory.

After a particularly nice jab, that has Bill sending >>>:( without any additional text, Dipper sits back in the booth with smug satisfaction.

Nearby, the waitress clears her throat, startling him out of his triumph. With a raised eyebrow, she drops the check, giving his empty plate a pointed look.

By now it’s lunch, and his seventh refill of coffee's cold. He didn’t realize how much time had passed.

He hunches over the phone, feeling faintly embarrassed. 

Look, I gotta go, but, uh. It’s been nice. Talk to you later.

Aww, what a shame. But hey! When you wanna start a conversation - tap three times on the screen, then whisper my name like you’re telling a dying man you’re the one that poisoned him!

Dipper frowns at the screen, then rolls his eyes. Yeah, that tracks. Contacting a demon would have to be in the weirdest way possible. 

He shoves the phone back in his pocket, paying and leaving the diner. He’s well aware that talking to a demon is a terrible idea. That Bill could trick him, somehow, or have a nefarious plan. After only a day, there’s no way to tell what this is building up to.

But until then, Bill is useful. Smart enough  resources will come in handy. Dipper will just have to keep an eye out for his real intentions, and not lose track of what he is.

Today , though, he can forget about all the chaos and the chase. Enjoying a quiet, peaceful day under a bright and cheerful sky. 

This, like all things, won’t last long.

[hypewinter]

Has anyone ever down a dpxdc story set in the Battinson universe? I'm genuinely asking because the thought won't leave me alone and it's absolutely hilarious.

Just the thought of Bruce "I don't like people" Wayne interacting with Danny "people don't like me" Fenton is sending me. Give me these two feeding off of each other's negative energy while Alfred and a newly adopted Dick are shaking their heads off to the side. Now they have to take care of two moody teenagers, fantastic.

Heck, let's throw in the Nasty Burger incident for some angst. Danny is going through a whole tornado of emotions and Bruce in all of his awkward glory is speed reading as many books about grief that he can get his hands on. How is Danny more complicated to deal with than Dick? He thought dealing with Dick was the most complicated things could get.

[tojisun]

tried making a biblically accurate fanfic of accountant reader x price to indulge myself ykyk but i got too invested in the technical details of accounting so i scrapped it

[ghostbeam]

Keigo who unconsciously allows his mask to slip around u one time, just forgets the whole guy next door, fastest hero shtick for just a second and you find it hilarious, refreshing even. So obviously he becomes completely obsessed with u over it.

[stealingyourbones]

recently watched a handful of episodes of Supernatural and im kinda impressed with Dean's steadfast belief that all monsters are monsters and can't be redeemed.

With that in mind... there could be some VERY angsty Danny Phantom crossovers with that as the main premise

[not-equippedforthis]

one am and im thinking what if i wrote a fic premise where kirk and spock are at this dance/buffet diplomatic event but then their pursuers enter the building and theyre trying to be discreet about trying to locate the two of them and for some reason or another they cant afford to give away their location so kirk and spock are trying to mingle with the crowd but theyre going to be found and kirk is murmuring ill try and locate a backdoor mr spock but in case prepare for- matters going south very quickly but then spock's oh so logical brain says why dont they blend in until they pass so he takes kirk by the elbow and starts leading him to where the couples are dancing to a fast and upbeat song because hes the son of an ambassador and dance is a way of connecting the mind and body of course amidst his vulcan upbringing he was taught how to dance so he takes kirk and begins to lead them at a fast pace and kirk's eyes are twinkling with amusement and surprise and surpressed nerves thrumming like a songbird like a new strategy, mr spock? and spock goes indeed, captain, odds indicate they will not look for us here and he loops them round and round but kirk is a charmer of course he knows how to dance and they spin round and round like two binary stars long after the spies have gone and kirk is following the rhythm he employs to win over any flirt but most of all hes losing himself in the easy spin and air of dancing with spock to the tune of the words unspoken between them forever implied and the light is hitting him like a nebula and kirk's intuition is his downfall tonight because he pitches spock in a perfect low dip and their eyes meet and he realises and-

[aurevell]

Thanks to @teenwerewoofs for inspiring the fic idea! The only downside is that my turnaround time for writing is apparently 1.5 years <3

The Long Game Steter | 17k | T

“Okay, Peter, it’s you and me, bud,” he jokes. “Fine,” Peter replies at once. “Huh. That was…fast. You got no objections to walking me down the aisle, creeperwolf?” “Why not?” Peter gives a lazy shrug, like he really could not care less about this stupid joke. He lays his head back down and closes his eyes. Right back to feigning his little nap. “See you in eight years.” Mostly as a joke, Stiles arranges a marriage pact with Peter. The only thing is, he can’t stop thinking about it after.

Read on AO3

[intheticklecloset]

MHA HAS BLOOPERS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

I might be very late to this party but THIS IS LEGIT BLOOPERS from the English cast of MHA!!

[scarlet-herring]

batfam tumblr is so funny actually because everyone’s an entire actual cunt on both sides of the row. like fanon’s worst quality is that they completely misrepresent the characters and have no idea how they’re doing that, and canon only!mfers desperately need to touch some grass because oh my god it is not that serious stop being a bitch about someone writing a non canon compliant fanfic. the very premise says it’s not going to be canon compliant why are you angry when it’s not. if u read a non canon compliant fanfic despite not liking that premise it’s entirely on u babes. at least fanon only people are having fun with what they’re doing

[lukecastellanshandholder]

⚠️very minor Wottg spoilers!!⚠️

I’m 10 chapters in so far and one of the main things that I’ve gotten from this book is the come back of Percy and Leo’s friendship. Like I have seen so many people try to say that the crew of the Argo 2 were just “coworkers” when that’s simply not the case!

They all were friends! Yes, some of them had closer relationships with others, but in the end they all grew closer together as friends!

Also, I’ve always loved and been a firm believer of the fact that Percy and Leo would get along great together and just match each others energy at least as friends!! They would be chaotic gremlins together and I love that for them😌

But also… I like to imagine that after they both find out about Jason’s death, that Leo leans heavily on Percy for comfort. Because let’s face it, Calypso seems like she couldn’t be bothered about Leo and his emotions. Piper is trying to heal her own wounds and even though I know she’d be there for Leo, she has her girlfriend and will probably need time to herself. Hazel and Frank are busy with stuff at Camp Jupiter and their own grief. So Percy and Annabeth would be the last others that Leo could turn to.

I’m sure that Annabeth would try to be there for Leo but given that Percy has a closer friendship to Leo than her, I feel like Leo would cling more to Percy. Plus the irony of Leo finding comfort in another child of the big three does not escape me.

But yeah, I’m glad to have a bit more Leo and Percy content 😌

[total-drama-brainrot]

Has anyone explored the idea of Beth winning the Aftermayhem yet?

[0zeeraa0]

YOOOO

Who wants to know about the best fucking death note fanfic I read?? (click there for ao3 link)

I never posted about things like this before, so you know it's real good.

It's unfinished jet, but it's really long, was updated recently and the writer replied to comments even just a couple days ago so it's definitely not abandoned!

It's a time travel fic which I know can be hit or miss, but this is definitely a hit. It's also a moraly ambiguous Light/Kira fic, which I love.

If you're looking for a good death note fanfic you should definitely give this a try!

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

“Pizza’s on the way,” Eddie announces. He flops down on the sofa, crashing right into Billy’s side and smiling when the little outburst goes unnoticed. “I got mushrooms and cherry tomatoes like you like.”

Without looking up from his book, Billy hums. Turns the page gently while Eddie noses a kiss against his cheek.

“Did you get plain cheese for Stevie?” Billy asks.

“Yup, with stuffed crusts.”

Billy nods once. Zones back into his book, if the way that his breathing softens is any indication. Eddie scoots closer. Glances at the page and implements the five finger rule that Billy showed him — and determines before he’s even halfway down that this book is way over his head.

“Dude, what kind of Old Testament shit is this?”

It takes Billy a moment to finish the sentence that he’s reading before his eyes stop skimming back and forth.

“The Vampyre by John Polidori,” Billy says. “It’s the original vampire novel.”

“I thought Dracula was the original vampire.”

Billy taps the page lightly with his thumb.

“This was like seventy years before Bram Stoker’s Dracula was published. Stoker’s novel is actually considered an adaptation of this one.”

Eddie nods. Leans his head against Billy’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him.

“Then why not just read Dracula?”

“Because I’m reading it next.”

“God, you’re such a goth, y’know that?”

A small smile blooms on Billy’s face as he shakes his head.

“I don’t listen to the music.”

“C’mon, I’ve heard you bopping to Siouxsie and the Banshees before.”

“One of Max’s mixes,” Billy excuses.

“The Cure?”

“Jonathan left his tape in my car and I haven’t given it back yet.”

There’s a slight pause. Eddie sits up enough to look at his partner, quirking a brow.

“Since when do you hang around Byers?”

Billy purses his lips.

“I don’t. He works part-time at the library.”

“He’s showing you music in your car.” Eddie spreads a grin and Billy’s face begins to burn a flustered shade of red. “You have a little crush on him, don’t you?” When Billy doesn’t say anything, Eddie snickers. “You definitely have a type, that’s all I’m saying.”

“No I don’t.”

“No you don’t have a crush on him or no you don’t have a type?”

Billy huffs and waves Eddie off with his hand.

“Either.”

“Lanky brunets,” Eddie lilts. “Typically of the brooding persuasion.”

“You do not brood, Munson, you’re the most bubbly motherfucker on the planet.”

“That’s why I said typically, babe, let’s try and keep up.” Eddie nuzzles closer and chews his lip. “Y’know, mostly based on Steve and Jonathan. Maybe a little bit of Hagan.”

“You’re putting way too much thought into this.”

“There’s definitely a pattern, wouldn’t you say? Lanky brunets…” Eddie wonders. “Brooding, pale skin, brown eyes…”

Billy’s eyes stay locked on the page that he hasn’t finished reading yet, jaw set as Eddie tippy-taps his fingers against the blond’s chest.

“Is your type just… vampires?” Eddie muses.

“Energy vampires, maybe,” Billy grumbles. He dog-ears the page and finally shuts his book, laying it in his lap. “But no.”

Eddie chuckles. Flattens his hand against Billy’s sternum and smooths his palm back and forth.

“Seems like it to me.”

“This may surprise you, but I’m not so shallow that I only care about looks.”

“So…” Eddie trails off. “There’s an outlier.”

“Edd—“

“Who is it?”

“I’m not doing this right now.”

“You’re my boyfriend, you’re contractually obligated to tell me about your hot man crushes.”

Billy presses his lips together and doesn’t budge when Eddie tries to shake an answer out of him. Eddie is about to start more roughly demanding when the doorbell rings, and it derails his train of thought long enough for Billy to slip away from him.

The blond jumps up from his seat to answer the door, practically ripping the door off of its hinges when he opens it. Light pours into the entryway, obstructed by a tall figure.

“Thanks for ordering Surfer Boy Pizza where we make everything fresh except…” the voice trails off momentarily, nearly cut off by the bubbly laugh that exits the guy’s lips. “‘Sup, lil’ dude!”

A hand shoots out to fist bump Billy, which he barely reacts fast enough to reciprocate. Still, the blond spreads a dopey little smile.

“Hey, Argyle,” he greets. Soft, for how flustered he is.

“Man, I didn’t know you lived right here or I would’ve been hopping the fence for backyard smoke seshes.”

Billy fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a new situation. Still getting settled.” Which is technically true if you count the box that’s been sitting unpacked in the corner for two weeks. “You should still come by sometime, though. When, uh… you’re not working, obviously.”

“Def!” Argyle says. “That’ll be fourteen fifty, bro.”

Billy digs in his wallet for a moment before he slaps a couple of bills in the other guy’s hand, which he trades the pizza for.

“Keep the change.”

Argyle furrows his brows.

“You gave me thirty.”

“Then I guess you have some extra cash for snacks when we hang out,” Billy lilts.

Argyle nods. Spreads a grin as he pockets the cash and fist bumps Billy once more.

“Sweet,” he says, and turns on his heel. “I’ll be seeing you around, lil’ dude!”

Billy waves briefly before he kicks the door shut, turning to walk into the kitchen and stopping in his tracks when he sees Eddie smirking at him from the couch.

The blond’s face turns ten different shades of red in a matter of seconds.

“The pizza guy, huh?” Eddie teases. “I see it.”

“I haven’t seen him much since I left Cali, alright? He just moved in with Jonathan and I haven’t had time to visit.”

“Right.”

Billy shifts his weight on his feet, furrowing his brows.

“Am I under investigation or something?”

“Nerds.”

“What?”

“Nerds. That’s your type. You like ‘em kinda dorky and way too interested in their hobbies.”

Billy scoffs.

“Stevie isn’t a nerd.”

“He’s a sports guy. You can twist it how you want, but he’s a nerd about it.”

“Tommy, then.”

“Too into cars.”

“Jon— actually, I understand that one, but Argyle is definitely not a nerd.”

Eddie chuckles and leans his elbow against the armrest, setting his chin in his hand thereafter.

“How many weed strands can that guy name? More than I can, and I can name a lot.” Eddie clicks his tongue when Billy has no counter argument. “Plus, he’s super passionate about his job. He talked my ear off about toppings for twenty minutes one time when I called in.”

Billy sighs. Sets the pizza down on the counter and crosses his arms, clearly working things over in his head. Eddie gets up in the meantime and strolls over. Gently pushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face before he laces his arms around his neck.

“Jokes aside, I think it’s nice that you like so many different people.”

Blue eyes meet his, and Billy softens. Sets his hands on Eddie’s hips.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I mean, you have lots of love to give, y’know? Of course it’s spilling over, sweetheart. Your cup is full.”

Billy chews his lip thoughtfully.

“I never looked at it that way before.”

Eddie leans closer. Kisses the corner of his partner’s mouth while he toys with a lock of his hair, soft to the touch and free of product.

“Glad my ramblings were of use to you,” Eddie chuckles. “Wanna have a sit-down with sleeping beauty after dinner? Talk some strats for getting you out of the friend zone?”

“I dunno if I wanna do that.”

“I’m pretty sure Steve’s had the hots for Tommy for a while now, so maybe we can knock everything out all at once.”

Billy raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not crushing on anyone? I might have to do some digging on you too, Munson, mister hopeless romantic.”

“I’m fine with bothering you two for eternity. I’m actually making it my life’s goal as we speak.”

“Of course you are.”

Billy ropes him closer, pulls him up to his tippy toes so he can press his lips to his neck — one of Eddie’s many, many weaknesses.

One of the others is, unfortunately, being manhandled. Even though Billy is gentle, it sends a thrill down Eddie’s spine when he’s lifted effortlessly.

“Want me to pay you back for the pizza?” Eddie breathes.

He makes a surprised noise when a large hand squeezes his ass.

“Keep your money, baby,” Billy lilts. Low and affectionate and now Eddie is the one getting flustered. “Wanna go wake Stevie up so we can eat and have our little discussion?”

Eddie nods. Shudders when Billy mouths at his throat and holds him ever closer.

“Yeah…” he manages.

Then Billy releases him. Let’s his socked feet touch the floor once again before he’s patting his behind and ushering him out of the kitchen.

Eddie has this sneaking suspicion that they’re gonna do way more than talk after they eat.