#we die like Barb

[briarberrythornedhart]

I finished my Eddie x Fem Scientist! Reader fic on A03 14,709 words, 13 short chapters. Rating Explicit 18 plus Minors Just DON’T it’ll be too cringe for you, I promise.

I tried making a banner but it’s not what I hoped for. You gotta start somewhere, like Eddie says.

Here is a taste from the first chapter:

“Munson, Edward, Age 21 years, weight 129 pounds (hmmm...seems low for 5’11”) Brown Hair, Brown Eyes, Caucasian, Sex: Male,  is exhibiting unusually fast healing and recovery after injuries, but, brain activity is in normal range from MRI results, currently asymptomatic.” You looked him over, added your own note. “Currently in REM stage of sleep.”

The fluorescent lighting in the facility was flattering to no one, but Subject Munson looked ethereally beautiful - his pale skin set off by his dark wavy hair around a delicious looking neck and slightly freckled shoulders, and the black-work tattoos looked extra ornamental on his lithe but still not un-muscular arms terminating in large hands with nice fingers.

His lips were pale pink and lush - parted to show teeth like pearls. 

Oh man. 

Yeah - okay You hadn’t gotten laid in a while - there was no need to be looking this guy over like he was on the menu - he was not - In fact you didn’t think it was entirely ethical to be waxing poetical about his features even in your most secret thoughts. 

For some reason the day shift hadn’t put Munson into a hospital gown or coverall - or into any clothing. He was draped with the ticking striped sheet and paper thin blue blanket that were standard supplies for the Facility and there was a noticeable... bulge showing that something was working just fine below his waist. Just normal amounts of NPT (nocturnal penile tumescence) but so MUCH of it - that it was hard... Difficult to drag your eyes away. 

Until he stirred and his eyes snapped open and you were sure your face turned bright red with guilt.

The rest at BriarberyHartfield

[danwhobrowses]

Now that Critical Role's VOD of episode 120 is out and everyone in the fandom's had a moment to breathe, simmer, and adjust to this all. I wanna do a big talk about my favourite idiot punk rock, Ashton Greymoore.

Because over these last few episodes, I've been so proud of them.

Many people have had vocal opinions on Ashton, not all of them positive either; I've seen many berate them and say they're selfish, not a team player, or that they 'don't add anything to the group'. But over the past few episodes, I feel like Ashton has been an unsung hero in the battles with Ludinus and Predathos, with their contributions, oftentimes selfless and cooperative, ending up providing the floor for others to deliver strong and impactful actions.

While Dorian and Imogen will rightfully get the lion's share of praise for their clutch moments - Dorian's Force Cage on Ludinus saving Liliana and defeating Predathos' first stage alongside Imogen's Power Word: Stun setting up Ludinus' death and defeating Predathos' second stage - Ashton's actions were often the prelude to moments that could not have succeeded without them, including these clutch moments. Their attack on Ludinus in 117 prompted the Silvery Barbs that burned up his reaction - which allowed Dorian to successfully use Force Cage without being Counterspelled, their high-damage attack on his neck hole in 118 broke Ludinus' concentration on Ravenous Void - which somehow later got credited to Chetney - which gave Imogen the freedom and mobility to get in range for Power Word: Stun, they got the Insight check whisper on Predathogen in 119 to know that Imogen was physically inside of the body and needed to be pried out - which Imogen achieved herself thanks in part to Fearne reaching her, and recently in 120 they pulled Imogen out of Predathos' maw, abandoning the Hammer synonymous with their character (to the point that Keyleth titled them the 'Paradox Hammer') to prioritize saving their friend, which - following Dorian's healing - gave her the chance to use the Ring of Remembrance for the finishing Meteor Swarm. Not to mention all the other damage they dealt and tanked throughout the four fights, the passive d4 bonuses and advantage they gave the party (almost acting partly as a secondary paladin or a tertiary bard) to buff their damage and saving throws, and accepting the risk of disintegration when Laudna used their Hammer's spell splitter - which forced Predathos to use its final Legendary Resistance.

The Disintegrate moment itself was tense because we all know that Ashton is high among the Hells who would sacrifice themselves to save the group - a mentality most of the Hells likely shared in this fight - but fortunately they don't have to, they'll never have to, and they gained something just as if not more valuable than a heroic sacrifice: they get to live. The person who before meeting these chucklefucks believed they'd likely die face-down in a ditch in some backwater alley and thrown into an unmarked grave AT BEST gets to live, and the people that mean most to them get to live thanks to their efforts, their successes. And that's the most important part; for all the times they couldn't help or save someone because they were unconscious or out of reach, for all the times they let their imposter syndrome tell them they're just a fuckup undeserving of trust, praise, or love, and for every fear they had that one day they'd mess up and this new family of theirs will abandon them like the Nobodies did, this time they were there standing beside their people to the very end - and they helped get them out alive. No mistakes, no carelessness, and no-one left behind.

For that, I am proud of Ashton Greymoore; not Bells Hells' Weapon but their Helm, not a Blunt Instrument but a Protector, and not a Hero who needs to do 'what needs to be done' but a Friend who is saving their people no matter the odds. Under all the hardened and rugged exterior that has always been who Ashton is - the perfectly flawed character they are.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 13 -  Snow Day

uh...yeah.. this got way away from me but...here's day 13! (a day late and 4k words more than normal???)

pairing: steddie | word count: 5,201 | rated: T

The following Thursday finds Eddie and the entire Hellfire Club literally and metaphorically clamoring over each other and his large dining room table while their campaign (Eddie had helpfully told him) continues on.

Luckily, Robin had agreed to spend their night off work from the video store with him.

“So, when are you going to do something about your hopeless Eddie crush?”

“SSshh! Not so loud, Rob!”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sorry to tell you this Dingus, but I don’t think he’s paying you a single modicum of attention.”

Steve looks over at the table from his spot on the couch; Robin’s right, of course, Eddie’s already halfway onto the tabletop, his arms stretched wide and the rest of him hunched low to the wood.

He’s deep into his story and his voice is dropped low, only the tone of it reaching Steve’s ears.

“He’s such a dork.” Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you loooove him!” Robin teases, poking one foot that had been with her other on Steve’s lap into his side instead.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Hand me another slice of cheese.”

She reaches over to one of the leftover boxes of pizza on the coffee table and fishes out a slice for him, “So what are you gonna do about it?” She asks, handing it to him.

“About what?” he asks, taking down half the slice in one bite.

“Don’t play dumb Steve,”

He sighs, “I don’t know Rob; he hasn’t made a move either! He kissed me first, remember? Right over there!” Steve points to the offending doorway, “Because of you, by the way.” he snarfs down the other half of the slice two big bites.

“I remember.” She nods.

“I honestly don’t know what to do Bob, I want to corner him and kiss him all over his fuckin’ body but how’m I supposed to know if he’d be okay with that? Does he want that?”

“Oh he wants that, believe me.”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. She only quirked a brow at him in return. “What do you know, Buckley?”

Robin snorts out a laugh, “I would say to just go for it, but I feel like he’d freak if you did that out of the blue.”

“So, what, I just say ‘Hey, I really really like you, maybe already halfway love you, and I want to know if you’d like to kiss about it maybe?’?”

“Who’s Steve kissing?”

Steve jumps at Dustin’s voice, suddenly beside him. He knew his hearing was going on his left..Robin told him he was just imagining it.

“OOh, Steve’s kissing someone?” This time it was Lucas, his voice teasing as he passes behind Dustin through the door under the stairs with his arms full of pop cans.

“I’m not kissing anyone,”

“He just wants to.” 

Damn you, Robin. Steve glances quickly to the table, Eddie has his back turned to them.

“Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s…” Steve pauses for a half a second, “None of your business. You guys done for the night?”

“Yeah.. about that..”

Oh no–

“Can we stay the night here? We have to start planning out our characters for the next campaign!”

“You guys are done done?” “Not quite,” Steve turns his head to the right, the older kid Frank is standing in the other doorway from the living room to the hall closest to the front door. “We have one more session then I’m DM-ing the next campaign.”

Steve nods along with Robin (whose head is hanging backward over the arm of the couch closest to Frank). “So you…six? Seven? Want to stay the night?” He's already skimming through the house in his head to where the extra blankets and pillows are stashed. He should have enough.

“No, just us.” Mike confirms, plopping down onto the carpet between the coffee table and fireplace across from the couch. “Me, Lucas, Will, and Dustin.”

Dustin nods, adding “And Eddie was going to stay a little longer to plan his own character, since he’s gonna be able to play in the next one.”

Steve turns back to Frank and the other older kid…Jeff…?, who’s now leaning around the doorway too. “You guys aren’t staying?”

“Nah man, we don’t wanna impose, thanks for having us though.” Maybe Jeff said.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve lifts Robin’s legs off his lap and stands, moving to see the three older Hellfire members off at the door. The Harringtons are polite hosts first and foremost. “Thanks for coming, guys.” What was he thanking them for? It wasn’t like they were here for him.

Jeff’s polite smile seemed to echo Steve’s thoughts, “Of course man, thanks for having us over.” “And for the pizza.” the shortest of the three says to the agreement of the others.

Jeff shakes Steve’s hand, the shortest one (Garby? George? It was something with a ‘G’) smiles again after pulling on his coat before heading out to Frank’s truck.

One of Frank’s solid hands lands on Steve’s shoulder in a friendly pat, and it’s almost enough to miss Eddie slipping out the door behind him into the slow fall of fat snowflakes outside. He was surprised to see a swath of snow had blanketed his front yard since the boys had been here.

Steve almost says something, but hears the guys exchanging their own farewells through the cracked door, so he turns back to the steps. 

Will is already coming back down them, arms full of blankets and pillows, Lucas following behind him.

“I was about to go grab those myself–wait, did any of you dipshits call and ask your parents if you can stay? It’s a school night!” Steve follows the two into the living room.

The four of them immediately look cowed.

“OOohh you better get moving guys,” Robin teases.

“All of you up, you’re calling home.” Steve waves his arm as if to shove them all through the hall into the kitchen. “And no complaints, otherwise you’ll all be piling into the beemer before you can say demogorgon.”

Three of the four boys grumble their complaints as they pass him, “Hey, you’re lucky I’m even letting you stay. Seeing as how I’m the one that’s gonna have to drive you all to school in the morning.”

“You’ll already be driving Robin!” Mike complains

“Yeah but I have pretty privilege.” Robin calls from her spot on the couch.

Steve hears the door click closed, and looks over to see Eddie coming back in.

“Hey–” Eddie disappears down the hall and past the steps, only to reappear in the dining area through the other doorway under the steps. He immediately goes back to whatever papers he’s got on the table.

Steve looks down at Robin, who looks up at him at the same time, his confusion is reflected on her face.

He’s about to go talk to Eddie when Dustin calls for him from the kitchen.

-x-

“Steve! Mom wants to talk to you!”

Eddie hears Dustin call from the kitchen, and he stacks his pile of notes together, finally closing them up into his spiral notebook.

He pauses then. Just staring down at the disheveled wire binding. 

He should go. No need to torture himself further, the kids will understand right? He’ll just make up something about his Uncle needing him home right away tomorrow morning or something. 

Yeah. That should work, it’s not like anyone would call Wayn—

“So. You’re down in the dumps.”

Eddie’s shoulders crowd up against his ears at Robin’s arrival.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” She doesn’t believe him, of course.

He can hear the sound of Steve’s cheery voice from the kitchen, the tone he takes whenever he’s talking to one of the kids’ parents, and Eddie can feel his face screw up in pain.

“Ah hah!”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t have to,” he bites out, “It’s not like you’re the one having to listen to your crush wax poetic about some girl he wants to kiss stupid.”

He turns to look at her. Robin’s face is blank for a moment, then a barely-there smug smirk appears on her lips.

Eddie’s vision goes scarlet. “You don’t get to be a shithead about it, Buckley. This is all your fuckin’ fault.” he spits out in a low whisper.

“My fault?” she echoes in the same tone, the smile falling from her face. “What’s my fault??”

“You’re the one who made me think I had a chance, weren’t you? The one who put up that fuckin’ mistletoe? Your fault.” He pokes her shoulder accusingly. His volume was getting higher, so he adjusts before continuing. “I should have known there was no chance; he’s the one who said ‘Now we’re even.’ after he kissed me in Melvald’s!”

“He said tha—”

Eddie was practically hissing at this point, just a steady stream of steam escaping him like a cartoon character. “He just felt bad, Robin! He just felt like he owed me something, there’s no goddamn feelings there!”

“Eddi–”

“I gotta go.”

He scoops up his notebook in one hand and snatches up his bag with the other, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Eddie, don’t go–”

He stalks down the hall past the steps away from her voice. He’s almost to his escape when Dustin cuts off his path from the kitchen doorway closest to the front door.

“Eddie, you’re leaving?”

“Sorry kid, gotta go.” He steps around him, “I forgot Wayne needs me home right away tomorrow morning.”

“But you were going to–”

“I’ll help you later, Dustin.” it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“Don’t be an ass, Eddie.”

“You know what? Bite me, Mike.” He really shouldn’t be taking his feelings out on the goblins.

“Fuck you, man.”

“Hey! Hey, what is happening right now?” Steve comes out into the hall then, making eye contact with Eddie for a fraction of a second before Eddie focuses on lacing his boots onto his feet.

“Eddie’s leaving,”

“...Okay? And?”

Alright, ouch.

He yanks his laces even tighter.

“And he said he would help us, and now he’s leaving.”

“Oh come off it Dustin, you heard what he said.” Lucas says, an eyeroll in his voice.

“What’d he say?” Eddie’s head told him that Steve’s voice sounded hurt, but best not to believe his head right now. “He said,” Eddie cuts in, “That his uncle needs him home in the morning.”

Steve’s soft “Oh.” was barely audible over the other three arguing back at him.

He yanks the last lace tight to his calf and stands sharply.

“Yeah, so, thanks for having us over, Harrington, I’ll see ya around.” he purposely doesn’t look up at Steve’s face as he says this, focusing on his notebook and bag.

His hand just reaches the doorknob when Robin’s voice calls out from the living room. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, Eddie.”

Because his arm was already in motion when she started talking, the door opens in front of him just as she finishes. 

The slow fat flakes from only, what, 10 minutes earlier? are now flying harsh and sideways across the light escaping Steve’s front door. It’s piling up out there, and fast. Bessie has braved many a winter in Hawkins, but he knows he’d get snowed in by time they got across town to the park. 

Honestly though? Getting snowed in on the side of the road is seeming much more preferable than staying here after his little hissy fit.

“Eddie? Just stay here, man.” Steve sounds much closer than before, “I don’t want something to happen to you–” What Eddie can only assume is Steve’s hand falls to his shoulder, and he immediately turns away from it, closing the front door and letting his bag fall down his arm to the floor in the same motion as he turns into the kitchen without making eye contact with anyone.

The phone is still warm in his palm when he lifts it to his ear, punching Frank’s number into the buttons on the cradle. 

In the handful of rings it takes for him to pick up, Eddie can hear the others whispering to each other, no doubt things like “What’s Eddie’s problem?”, “Why’s he being mean to Steve?”, “Why can’t he control his big gay feelings for his obviously straight friend?”.

Okay, maybe that last one was a bit much for a bunch of sophomores.

“Hello?”

“Frank, you’re home?”

“Uh. Yeah. You called me at home.”

“Well it’s snowin’ like shit outside now, I wanted to make sure you guys got back safe.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I just got in when I heard the phone. Everyone’s home safe.”

“Alright good, I’m gonna stay here at Harrington’s; talk to you later man, I gotta call Wayne.

“Okay Ed, see ya’.”

Eddie jabs his finger into the phone’s switch to end the call, then starts to dial the trailer. Wayne should be just about to leave for work.

“Y’ello?”

“Hey Wayne, it’s me.” Eddie says, turning his face away automatically when someone shuffles into the kitchen.

“Ed, where’ya at?”

“I’m still at Steve’s. It really started to come down so I don’t want to risk driving home tonight.”

“Good. You stay righ’ there, son.”

“Are you still going in?”

Wayne hums in agreement, “Got to.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks, “Wayne–”

“Now don’ you worry ‘bout me boy, I woke up early enough to get the chains on the truck.”

“Fine, fine. Be careful, old man.”

“You got it kid. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

He hangs the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall feeling much looser now; he’d almost forgotten why he was so wound up, but seized up again as soon as he turned.

Steve was standing at the stove, stirring something that was obscured by his torso. “You want some hot chocolate too, Eds?” he asks, not turning from the stove.

Eddie gives him a short “No.” and goes back out into the hall to unlace his boots once again.

He wanders back into the living room with his bag and plops down in the recliner, pulling out his monster manual and his smaller, less pulverized notebook, the one with the basics of his next character fleshed out in it.

A tiefling bard, one he had imagined as having such thick skin on him that no matter what snide remarks, insults, and bashes to his character were thrown at him, he’d only shrug them off. Something real Eddie’d love to do. A charming, charismatic bard that got all who heard his songs to overlook his hellish appearance.

Wouldn’t that be something.

While he’s mulling over what name to give his bard (he’s waffling between Zarlech and Erron), Robin appears, settling in on the corner seat of the couch beside him.

He tenses up again, thinking she’s going to try talking to him about the too-good-for-this-world man in the yellow sweater in the next room, but she doesn’t. She only sits down and starts back in on the thick Vogue magazine she’d been swiping though since he and his troupe arrived.

Steve comes in with two mugs of cocoa not long after, walking to Eddie first with a soft smile.

“I told you I didn’t want any.”

He regrets his tone as soon as the words pass his lips; Steve looks stunned, the boys’ idle chatter from the coffee table dies off immediately.

Eddie’s face burns in embarrassment, but before he can even open his mouth, Robin says “I’ll take his,” and reaches for the steaming pale yellow mug. 

He passes it over, and stands there for a moment with the other mug before turning and handing it over to Will, the closest to him of the four on the floor.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then turns out of the room. Robin’s up and out of the room not a moment later, saying, “I’ll go help him with you threes’.”

There’s a beat of silence, then: “What. In the actual fuck. Is your problem, man?”

Eddie turns to face the voice; all four teens are staring at him, each one with a different level of incredulousness on their faces. Mike’s is the worst, looking at Eddie like he just killed his dog.  And he’s about to get revenge for it.

“Who do you think you are to talk to him like that, huh?” Mike seethes at him, “This is his fucking house, and you’re gonna sit here and be rude as all hell just because he doesn’t like you back?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie hears his voice echo his thoughts. “How do you—”

“Steve puts up with enough shit from us as it is, he doesn’t need it from you too.”

There’s surprise on the other threes’ faces, but Eddie’s got an inkling it’s surprise at this coming from Mike and not from the content of the outburst.

“Uh..”

“Mike’s right, Eddie. You’re our friend, but Steve’s our…” Lucas trails off.

“He’s our Steve.” Will says resolutely. 

“He’s our Steve.” Lucas agrees, “And we won’t hesitate to drop you like a dead fish over him.”

Eddie turns his gaze to Dustin, not looking forward to what he might see in his closest butthead’s expression.

Dustin’s face is set in determined lines, and he meets Eddie’s gaze solidly. “I love you both as brothers, man. Don’t make me choose between you two…Though I will choose Steve.”

Robin returns before Eddie can formulate any sort of response to..all that.., pressing a steaming mug of cocoa into each of the boys’ waiting hands.

She came in with four though, and brings the last one to Eddie. “Leave him be for a minute. I’m sure he will be fine, but he’s upset.” He takes the mug from her and she squashes back down into her abandoned seat with a sigh. “Which usually means he’s going to be doing laundry until I make him go to sleep.” 

Eddie spends the next 25 minutes trying to think about what he’s going to say to Steve, what he’s going to tell him was the reason for his bullshit attitude.

For a solid three, he seriously thinks about telling Steve the truth, that he got all pissy at the thought of him sucking face with whoever it is he’s got a crush on, but that’s really not fair to Steve..or to this mystery girl.

At 30, Robin nudges his arm with her bony elbow, so he leaves his book and still-unnamed character on the chair and goes to find Steve.

He follows the sound of music coming from off the kitchen, stopping just outside the door when the low sound of Steve singing along to ‘The First Nöel’ playing softly through the radio.

It had to be that damn song, didn’t it?

…Okay, maybe it’s not so bad if Steve’s the one singing it..

He steps into the narrow room once the radio host comes back on. It’s small, but there’s more than enough room for the machine’s doors to open and to manuver a basket around in here, and there’s a side door out to the yard at the end of the room; there’s neat-ish piles of clothes in front of the washer and overflowing a basket under the dryer door, a few loose dust bunnies and used dryer sheets litter the corners.

Steve’s standing at the dryer, pawing through a seemingly freshly cleaned pile of towels on its top.

He glances up at him briefly when he enters, going back to the pile immediately, “Eddie, hey, sorry for sulking off like that. I just..got into my head a bit.” Even Steve sounded like he didn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ll be back out in a minute, just gotta take care of this load..”

“Hey, it’s alright man. It’s not all on you, you know.” Steve’s hands stop when he looks over, dropping themselves and a half-folded towel back onto the pile. “Look, I’m sorry Steve. My brain is weird sometimes too; I had some of my own shit pop back up for no fuckin’ reason at all and it just..really threw me. I didn’t mean to take it out on you like that, I swear.” 

The truth. For the most part at least. He really didn’t mean to snap at Steve like that over fuckin’ hot chocolate.

“Really, it’s okay Eddie. You did say that you didn’t want any.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t give me the right to be an ass to you.” Eddie ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Steve finally says. “I appreciate it, Eds.”

Relief floods through him at the nickname, he meets Steve’s gaze again. “Do you uhm, need help or anything?”

Steve smiles softly, “No, I really do just need to take care of this last load and I’ll be back out there.”

A low howl of wind from outside the side door cuts him off before he can reply.

Eddie groans, “Well that sounds like it’ll be fun…”

All in all, it was fun.

After going back to the living room and confirming with the others that he did, in fact, apologize to their Steve, Eddie sat back down with his notebook and got back to work.

He was slowly absorbed into the boys’ huddle and by time Steve comes back in, all five of them are heavily debating what alignment Zardok the bard should be.

Not 30 minutes later, the lights flicker off above them.

“Aw hell.” Steve mutters from the sofa.

“I’ll start running the tub.” Eddie sighs, pushing himself off the floor and waving his arms in front of him so he doesn’t run into any walls on his way.

“Why would you run the tub?” Dustin asks, incredulous.

“You fill the tub with water in case the pipes freeze while the power’s out. That way you still have water to flush the toilets and get clean and stuff.”

“Thank you Will, exactly.” Eddie says. Smart kid. 

Damn. Why doesn’t he carry a mini flashlight again?

“That’s a thing?” Robin asks, then clicks on a flashlight. Where in the hell’d she get that?

“You don’t need to do that, Eds. The place is plenty well insulated.” Steve assures, stopping him from leaving, “The pipes won’t freeze, I promise.”

“....Lucky bastard.”

Dustin goes to the opposite end of Robin’s couch and fishes another light from between the cushions.

He and the other three make quick work of arranging their blankets and pillows there in the living room, Dustin’s light only going so far as to help continue their brainstorming.

Steve and Robin leave them to it, and lead Eddie upstairs with their light. 

One round of fighting off nightmares later, he’s dragged into wakefulness with the smell of cinnamon.

He re-cinches Steve’s lended sweats around his hips and trudges down the stairs.

There are snores still reverberating from the living room, and Steve is standing in front of the stove flipping something.

A square glass pan with an inch of some sort of mixture in it was sitting on the island across from him along with an open bag of bread and half a dozen eggs still in their carton.

The floor under his feet squeaks when he stops in the doorway, alerting Steve to his presence.

He glances over his shoulder at him, then goes back to the stove to flip something again. “Hey Eds, just makin’ some breakfast, you want something?” He turns to him fully then, leaning his elbows onto a clear patch of the island countertop.

Steve must take his sleepy silence as confusion.

“Oh! The power came back on last night. Well, er..” he looks back at the stove’s clock, blinking 5:08 out at them, “Early this morning, actually.”

Huh. Guess it was confusion.

“Anyway, you want some french toast?” That explains the cinnamon. “Or I can whip you up some eggs…?”

“No, no, french toast is great.” his voice comes out scratchy with disuse. “Thanks Stevie.”

Steve smiles and turns back to the stove, “The coffee machine is on, if you want a cup; I’ll have a plate ready for you in just a couple minutes.”

Eddie wakes up slowly with his coffee, watching as Steve resets the clock on the oven to his watch.

“It’s 8:30 already? Shouldn’t we get the kids up for school?” Holy shit. Who knew Eddie Munson would ever sound so much like a mom.

“Nah,” Steve waves him off, “I was up with my alarm to get them up and ready, but when I got down here, Claudia called. The school called a snow day.”

Steve passes him a plate of toast, already smothered with syrup. “You want powdered sugar?”

“Ooh fancy, fancy,” Eddie laughs, adding a haughty accent to his next words, “Bring me my powdered confectionary Steeves, I wish to dust it upon my imported french breakfast.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but passes over a short ceramic container of the stuff.

Lucas is the one up next, going to the coffee machine before acknowledging either of them.

He sips on his cup without adding anything to it, the heathen. Eddie’s own cup was nearly drowned out with milk and sugar.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the house wakes up and wanders to the kitchen, each getting a plate stacked high with sweet cinnamon-y goodness.

Dustin, Mike, and Will are sitting at the little breakfast nook table in the kitchen’s front window, getting steadily louder about their plans for the near eight inches of snow that’s blanketed across Steve’s front yard.

“You’re going to help me shovel it out so I can get you free-loaders home as soon as possible. That’s what you’re going to do.” Steve insists, pushing a plate of toast in front of Robin, the last to get up.

So that’s what originally got them all outside, but two shovels can only get two of them so far with the driveway before any of the other five start fucking around.

The first blow comes from Mike, a well thrown snowball hitting dead center on the back of Will’s head.

Then Lucas lobbed one aimed for Dustin but hit Mike right on the nose.

Will’s shovel was abandoned, teams were made, and Steve was left shoveling alone when the snowballs really started flying.

Robin, Lucas, and Will booked it for the bushes on one side of the yard, immediately packing snow up between them and into gaps in the branches to protect them from the flurry.

And of course, the only other good cover on the other end of the yard from them was Steve’s beemer, so Eddie, Mike, and Dustin dove behind the newly uncovered tires, frantically packing snowballs from the untouched drift under Steve’s car.

“Really?” The three of them look up at the sound of Steve’s voice.

Fuck, he looks so adorable all bundled up like this. Nose and cheeks bitten red with the cold and with the exertion of shoveling, scarf tucked around his neck and into his jacket, the dark blue mittens, one on his hip and one over the handle of the shovel, the matching knit cap—even as he glares disapprovingly at them.

“So you’re not gonna help me, and also subject my baby to enemy fire? Not cool, guys.”

Mike lobs a ball across the yard.

“Join us then! Help us defeat those heathens and we’ll help you with the driveway.”

A snowball smacks into the back passenger side window of the car

“No.”, Steve says with finality and goes back to shoveling.

Another ball soars over the roof of the car and splats across the cleared-ish pavement behind them.

“Awe, you’re no fun Stevie.” Eddie complains, though he’s definitely not complaining about the view he’s got right now.

Dustin sends one back, mumbling out a “Damn! So close..” soon after.

“Bite me.”

Not 10 seconds later, a blast of snow smacks the back of Steve’s head.

Everyone freezes.

-x-

He turns slowly back around to face the three snow-covered idiots crouched behind his car.

All three stare wide-eyed at him, faces flushed with cold.

Mike and Dustin's hands raise at the exact same time, both pointing at Eddie.

He can tell from Dustin’s face that it was definitely him that threw the thing at his head, but the panicked, adorable, wide-eyed look Eddie has at the accusation is worth playing along for.

“What?! You traitors!” He scrambles up and back, glancing over and managing to duck a snowball aimed for his head by Robin, “Stevie, sweetheart, darling, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Do I?” He growls out playfully, advancing on the doe-eyed menace.

“Yes! You know I love you, Steve, I would never betray you like that.” 

The words, even said teasingly as they are, make Steve’s stomach swoop heavily. He’s lucky his face was already red from the wind.

“I don’t know, Eds,” He holds out one mittened hand to Mike as he passes between the two boys. He drops one into his palm. “Sounds like something you would do.”

He raises the snowball and yells out, chasing Eddie around the front of his car to the hoots and hollers of the others jeering him on.

Eddie is not a good runner, and his Reeboks slip and slide as they try to carve a path through the fresh snow in the yard.

He’s quick though, and doges out of Steve’s reach when he almost catches the back of his borrowed puffer coat, launching off toward the side of the house instead.

Oh no.

“Wait, Eddie! There’s a—” Eddie’s dark head of curls disappears under his feet as he slips off over the side of the hill. “Hill—shit!”

Steve spoke too soon even for himself, unable to stop his momentum before he slips down the hill too.

Snow pushes itself under the back of his jacket down the first half of his slide, then one of his feet gets stuck up under him and he tumbles ass-over-tea kettle the rest of the way.

“OOF—” he lands on something much more solid than snow at the bottom.

Eddie’s cackling laughter bursts out from under him, his chest heaving with it under Steve’s own.

“Eddie, you okay, man?”

Steve pushes up on his hands, one on either side of Eddie’s torso, to look down at him properly.

He lost the red hat he’d grabbed when they came outside earlier, gone to the snow somewhere, and his hair is fanned in an almost perfect halo around his head.

The red spots on his face show off the flakes that fall onto them briefly before they melt under the heat of his skin, his mouth open wide and his eyes crinkled shut in laughter.

Steve was already head over fuckin’ heels for this man, but…oh.

Oh.

Eddie has laugh lines.

They’re so deep already, crinkled up at the corners of his eyes, but for a split second, Steve can’t help but wonder how much more they’d be in 10, 15, 20 years in the future. 

And he realizes in that instant that wants so badly to be there to watch them grow longer.

look out, it's noelle coming in hot with the Oh. Oh. moment!

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[joethehoeee]

Rise of titans actually made me laugh for so stupid reasons and I wanted to share this with you.

It's insane honestly.

THE PURE LOOK OF HORROR IN STRICKLER'S FACE WHEN JIM FALLS TO HIS DEATH AND THEN-

Barb is like 😯

Mrs. Lake, your son is falling to a cruel and unimaginably painful death and THAT is your reaction? Even you won't be able to fix him up after that, even if you are a good doctor.

Strickler looks so desprately fearful as if it is the worst thing he could ever imagine (it may be) and Barb is like "oh, well, surprised he made it this far"

GIRL THAT���S YOUR SON!!!!! YOUR S-O-N!!!

Where did the worried mother from 3 damn seasons go? Why is she not here.

And before you ask, this is not just an unconventional screenshot, it's the whole shot. (as far as I remember, tbh I refuse to rewatch it more than once)

Like real talk, this is so funny to me.

The difference is insane...(I should stop using that word...but I don't know anything else)

Walter could be used for memes tbh.

I BEG YOU ALL. Make memes as much as you can. Unrelated or related to trollhunters. That would be so funny !!! We need to take over the fandom!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Sinclair

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 3.7k || cw: check the tags

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper ao3

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

Evil monsters from a hell dimension are easy to spot, like a dog with a face that blooms open to eat your cat, or a monster clawing it’s way out from the ceiling. Everything about them feels wrong on base-level instinct. But all you have to do is just get it in your sights, plant your feet, and swing for the fences. Dodging helps too, Steve supposes. 

Monsters like Billy Hargrove, however, are harder to spot. They look and sound like everyone else if you’re not paying close enough attention. The guy radiated violence, and all Steve could hope for was to stay out of his way. To stand off to the side and hope Billy would pass him by, sight unseen.

After what happened to Lucas, Steve can’t afford to stand by anymore. There’s more kids out there like Billy. Fucking christ he used to be friends with those kinds of people. He thought it was all just meaningless jokes and empty words– Steve and all his friends and his family and their neighbors in the Loch, it was all just jokes.

But then he’d called Jonathan Byers queer, laced with venom and meant to sting. As Jonathan’s fist hit its mark, Steve finally realized that maybe the people in his life weren’t just joking. He’d started to understand what they actually meant, how to look past the casual tone and see it for what it truly meant. 

Since then, Steve’s worked to separate himself from people like Tommy and Billy, like his parents. That still doesn’t mean everyone believes he’s trying to change, or that he’ll be forgiven. But that doesn’t matter, he’ll spend the rest of his life making amends regardless. Steve will do whatever it takes to be the best person he can be for the kids.

Anxiety churns through his gut as he knocks on the front door. The cold November breeze ruffles his hair. It sends a shiver down his spine and he finds himself bouncing on the balls of his feet to shake out both the chill and his nerves.

After a few moments, a woman with a delicate heart-shaped face and stylishly short black hair opens the door with a warm smile. He never saw Mrs. Sinclair in the moments after it was all over, everyone congregated in the Byers’ living room exhausted, sharing information, and tending each other's wounds. Steve had slipped out the back just as Claudia had arrived for Dustin. 

Her smile falters, only for a moment, before she overcomes the surprise at her unexpected guest. She smoothes her hands down the front of her blue jeans then crosses them over her chest, wrapping the crochet shawl on her back tight around her shoulders. It’s cute, patterned with little yellow and green flowers with dark brown in between.

He smiles awkwardly, bringing his hand up in a wave only to abort the movement halfway through because she opened the door and she’s waiting, just say something.

“Hello, dear,” she prompts, saving him from his spiral by following a simple script. The things you’re supposed to say when some random boy knocks on your door late into the evening but doesn’t say anything.

“Hello, Mrs. Sinclair,” his voice cracks, and he winces. “Umm, my name’s–”

“Steve Harrington,” she says, not unkindly. “Yes, I know.”

He swallows, desperately maintaining an appropriate amount of eye contact. On top of everything else, that sentence alone could mean so much.

Even though Steve’s never met Mrs. Sinclair, he knew of her from his mother. He remembers listening to her rehash the events of whatever social event they’d both attended over dinner, notable only because it was one of few occasions his father would actually listen while his mother talked.

She was a little outspoken during book club.

Richard, you should’ve seen her new hairstyle.

Sue wore a very interesting outfit today.

His parents have nothing in common, but they both love tearing down others to feel better about themselves. Sue Sinclair eventually quit attending the same clubs, and his mother adjusted her sights to new targets. Steve can only hope that Mrs. Sinclair is referring to things Lucas might have mentioned about him, and not because of Beth Harrington and her luncheon book clubs.

“Right, yeah,” he says. “I was hoping I could talk to you and Mr. Sinclair about Lucas. About what happened that night at the Byers’ house.”

His gaze has drifted back down to the pavement, and he can’t help running a hand through his hair only for it to pull at the stitches on his forehead. They would’ve been healed by now if he didn’t keep pulling them out. If he could keep his hands in his pockets like Dustin keeps telling him.

It’s dark, and it’s quiet. It’s silent for so long he expects to be turned away, until he hears a soft sigh.

“Come in then,” she says, stepping to the side to open the door fully. “I’m sure we’ll all want to sit down for this.”

Even on a dark, cold winter night, the sunshine yellow walls help the home feel warm and bright– to match the family inside, he thinks fondly. Steve spots multiple science fair plaques hung up in the living room and a fridge covered in what look like pages of meticulously colored pink and purple horses. A stark contrast to his own home, lifeless and lackluster.

A small cough breaks him of his reverie, and he turns to find her carefully watching him. She’s eyeing him like he’s a code she can crack, making him even more nervous. Her lips quirk up at the corner of her mouth and she gestures for him to sit at the table.

“Would you like anything to drink, Steven? There’s lemonade, tea, and milk, and there’s pop out in the garage.” She moves into the kitchen, the hanging cabinets obscure her face. Her voice is pleasant and genuine.

“Just water, thank you, Mrs. Sinclair.” She sets the water glass next to him and leaves the room only to return a moment later with Mr. Sinclair. He’s sporting a wide smile, but his eyes are strained. 

“Steve Harrington, isn’t that right,” he asks. He gently guides his wife to a chair at the opposite corner of the table, pulling it out for her and softly kissing her cheek. She smiles at Steve and rolls her eyes. The normalcy of the domestic gesture causes Steve’s cheeks to burn and he averts his eyes. He’s been here all of five minutes and has seen more love within the Sinclair home than he’s ever seen within his own. 

“Uh, yes sir,” Steve responds as Mr. Sinclair takes the seat opposite of him, like this is an interview for a high class job. Which, he figures, it kind of is. Except the man’s wearing blue flannel pajama pants and an oversized grey hooded sweatshirt with a Pacers logo on the chest. It helps Steve relax slightly, the perceived casualness hopefully setting the tone for the situation.

“So what brings you by? Sue mentioned something about what happened at the Byers’ house.”

“Yeah, I just umm–” he swallows around a lump clogging his throat– “I’ve already talked with Ms. Henderson and Mrs. Hargrove about being Dustin and Max’s official babysitter, and I’m really hoping I can do the same for Lucas.” In through his nose, out through his mouth. In, and out.

“I’m not sure what all Lucas told you, but the kids got into a lot of trouble that night. Dustin came looking for Mike to help find his lost cat, but he found me instead. I wasn’t even supposed to be there.” He pauses, replaying the cover story in his head. “Lucas and Max found us just before the pack of feral dogs did. We ended up ok, hitched a ride with Nancy and Jonathan back to the Byers’ house. Then that’s when Will got sick and they all left to go to the hospital.

“I didn’t know Billy was Max’s brother. She kept telling me, over and over, that she had to get home or her brother would kill her. I was too busy trying to keep the boys distracted– I should’ve listened to her. We heard the car pull in the driveway, and I knew straight away who it was.

“I told the kids to hide and I tried to convince him to leave, but he saw them. He pushed past me to get into the house, but by the time I got back inside he had Lucas pinned to the wall and– I’ve never seen someone look like that before. The way Billy looked at Lucas– I know I was a bully, but I’ve never– Billy hated him.”

He’s prepared for this, even done it twice already like he said. He’d hoped it’d be easier this time around, yet he’s still just as tense. But the Sincair’s sit patiently across from him, waiting for him to continue. So he musters his courage, takes deep breaths, and pushes on.

“If it wasn’t for Max,” he plows forward, “I’m not sure what would’ve happened. She knocked Billy out while he was on top of me. We managed to take his car and get out. When we came back later, he was gone.”

Steve’s eyes fall to his lap and he wrings his hands together, rubs them harshly against the tops of his thighs to feel the rough denim scratch against his palms– to keep himself from hyperventilating, to calm down, to breathe. Anything to show these nice and normal people that he’s stable enough to care for their son. That he’s not the kind of person to panic when nothing’s wrong. 

“What about the parents?” Mrs. Sinclair asks. When he looks up, there’s a comforting smile on her face that doesn’t meet her eyes, still filled with a hesitancy Steve can’t pinpoint.

He knew the question was coming, yet he still finds it difficult to answer. “I feel like everyone in town knows The Harrington’s,” he says, voice laced with distaste for his own last name.

Mr. Sinclair’s lips form a fine, thin line across his carefully restrained face, disappearing under his  trimmed mustache. Mrs. Sinclair reaches out to hold her husband’s hand again, rubbing her fingers across his knuckles. She still holds Steve’s gaze, unwavering, as he tries to explain himself.

“I can’t ever make up for what my parents have said or done. All I can promise is that I’m trying not to be like them. And those kids,” he stops, digging deep for the right words to explain emotions he’s never had to articulate before. “I feel more like myself around the kids than I ever have with anyone else. It’s like they give me a purpose. They matter to me, and I’m not really used to that. I’d do anything to keep them safe.”

They’re quiet for what feels like ages, leaving him waiting for them to pass their judgements, weighing his heart. “I’m glad you’ve told us this,” Mrs. Sinclair replies, “but that’s not what I was asking, hun.”

Steve racks his brain, sorting through his words to find what he’s missed. The confusion must show on his face.

“The girl, Max,” Mr. Sinclair fills in, “what about her parents?”

Steve’s confusion only worsens as he tries to reason out why they’re asking about Max’s family and not his own. The Harrington’s have terrorized this town for decades, and the Hargrove’s moved in less than six months ago.

“Max?” Steve asks. “Why– I don’t understand.”

“Steven,” she starts again, “we know all about the kind of people Beth and Richard Harrigton are, and we know the kind of boy you used to be,” he smile softens, finally reaching her eyes as they shine at him with a sad affection. He feels bare, and moves his gaze to just over her right shoulder instead. “Just because your parents are bad people, doesn’t mean you are. And just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t make you a bad person. Especially when it’s so obvious how hard you’re trying to fix them.”

“But this young girl, Max, that Lucas has been spending time with. She’s new to town, from California, right?” Mrs. Sinclair asks. Steve nods.

“We don’t know them,” she says, her smile melted into a frown. “Lucas and the boys talk about her well enough, and she sounds like a sweet kid.” She blinks, hard, and Steve realizes she’s trying not to cry.

“If her parents are like her brother, Billy,” Mr. Sinclair picks up her train of thought, “Lucas could be in danger just by being her friend, Steve. If her parents are anything like that, I can’t have our son spending time with her. It won’t matter whether you’re there to protect them or not. There are some things in this world you can’t save them from.”

There’s nothing he can say that’ll meet the gravity of their questions, except sit in their beautiful, warm, yellow kitchen and process the small fraction of their world they’ve laid plain. He’s imagining Billy catching them at the movies, sharing a popcorn bucket and a soda with two straws. He can’t help but morbidly wonder what would happen if Neil passed them on the street with Max riding on the back of Lucas’s bike. 

Even if Steve were there with them, they’d still be seen. He can’t be around all the time, won’t always be there to help. Shoving down the panic at that thought, he leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair and yanks at the strands. The stitches rip from his scalp, and the sting of it keeps him present.

“Her stepdad, Neil, is the problem,” Steve starts. “I haven’t met him, but he seems– I think he’s the reason Billy is the way that he is. I’ve heard him yelling from the driveway when I pick Max up sometimes.” 

His thoughts stray to last week, standing in the driveway, half out of the car trying to decide if he should go knock or stay and wait. The shouts were hard to ignore. As Steve finally decided knocking would be worth the risk of confrontation, Max burst out the front door, red-faced with bloodshot eyes, and her jaw clenched tight. Words like ‘spoiled’ and ‘ungrateful brat’ floated between the snowflakes after her, carried along by the frigid evening.

“Max’s mom seems alright,” Steve says. Beth Harrington’s years of training kicks in and Steve falls back on typical midwest niceties. “Susan loves Max, and she’s the one who agreed to let me watch her instead of Billy. I think she knows that their house isn't– great. She lets Max stay with me a lot. Hell, half the time she practically lives with me.”

He knows Dustin’s happy when Steve’s around, and he hopes eventually the rest of the kids would eventually feel the same way. Max likes having him around too, but Steve thinks she might need him more than the others do. Because unlike The Party– but very much like himself– she doesn’t have anyone or anywhere safe to escape. 

He never had a person waiting in the driveway with the car running, ready to take him away. With Max, Steve gets to be the person he needed when he was her age. 

Steve sighs, resistant to the decision he’s come to, but hopefully the Sinclairs will understand. He meets their gazes, a solemn look from both of them tells him maybe he’s easier to read than he thought.

“I want them all to be together, but when it comes down to it, the boys all have their families to fall back on. Max– she doesn’t have that. So I can’t leave her behind– I won’t.” Steve hesitates, closing his mouth before he oversteps.

“But?” Mr. Sinclair prompts, eyeing him across the table.

Steve considers his words carefully before saying, “I think keeping them apart would be a mistake. You know Lucas won’t stop trying to see Max. He really cares about her, and the way she looks at him–I don’t think you could keep them apart no matter how hard you try.” He sighs, anxious he’s undoing all the trust he’s gained tonight. “And it’s like you said, right? Just because someone’s family is all bad, doesn’t mean you’re like them. We– I mean, Max– can be different. Better.”

They glance at each other, but when Mr. Sinclair opens his mouth to respond, a blur of red and blue crashes into Steve’s side, almost toppling him out of the kitchen chair. All he can see are fingers entwined together across his chest and small arms covered in red and blue rocket ships. Of course Lucas would wear nerdy pajamas, it’s so goddamn adorable. Just another reminder that Steve is so utterly screwed for these kids.

“Lucky,” Mrs. Sinclair admonishes, “what are you doing out of bed?” She stands and moves over to her son, who clutches Steve’s chest like it’ll keep him from being pried away and dragged back to his room.

“You can’t keep me from hanging out with Max,” he shouts, muffled by his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder. “She belongs to The Party now, just like Steve. And we don’t leave anyone behind. Ever.”

Something he might think is fondness balloons in his ribs at Lucas’s admission. Steve hadn’t really considered himself included in The Party, as Dustin explained it. He always assumed it was mostly just the kids, plus Nancy and Jonathan because of Mike and Will. He’s more like an accessory, if anything at all. A guy on the fringes, brought in by random chance. 

“I want Steve to be my babysitter, and I want Max to be my friend,” he answers.

“Son,” his dad says, who stands up to place his hand on his son’s shoulder, “we’re talking to Steve about this.”

“No,” Lucas interrupts. He pops his head up to look at them, but doesn’t loosen his grip around Steve’s shoulders. “You don’t get it. Steve’s not like Billy and neither is Max. Max is the coolest. She’s nice and funny and laughs at my jokes. And Steve gives rides in his super fancy car. He lets them hang out at his house after school. Sometimes he even buys us candy and gives us extra quarters for the arcade.”

Mrs. Sinclair clears her throat, a very motherly excuse me, you did what? Steve realizes she’s teasing Lucas, the slight smirk on her face giving the game away. He gives Lucas a gentle nudge, and chuckles when Lucas tries his best to back pedal. 

“I mean,” the poor boy stammers, “he never buys us candy. Only, like, apples and stuff.”

His mom laughs and his dad gives his shoulder a slight shake, bringing a smile to Lucas’s face. He knows the world will be tough for Lucas, but Steve can’t help but think how lucky the kid is to have a family like this. Safe and loving, comfortable enough to tease each other, and carefree enough for affection in front of company.

“Ok, Lucky, we’ll think about it, alright? Now let’s get to bed,” Mrs. Sinclair says, gently leaning Lucas into her arms and guiding him away from the table. He groans, burying his face into his mother’s stomach as she laughs. “You’ve got to get up early for school tomorrow, you know that.”

“Mom,” Lucas draws out the word, whining obnoxiously, “don’t call me that when people are here.”

Steve listens to Lucas’s lamentations as the two disappear down the hallway. Mr. Sinclair gives Steve’s shoulder a hard pat and firm shake, just like he had to his own son. Steve’s throat clogs slightly, and the gesture makes him think of Hopper.

Mr. Sinclair says on the back of an exasperated sigh, “Lucas is a good kid. When he likes something– or someone– it’s fierce. He gets consumed with whatever he sets his sights on, almost like it’s all he can think about sometimes.”

“Oh honey,” Mrs. Sinclair chuckles at her husband, stepping back into the room. “Remember when Mike first showed him Dungeons and Dragons? Stayed up all night for weeks working on his character even after we grounded him for it. It’s been years and it’s still all he talks about.”

Mr. Sinclair laughs, shaking his head, but when he looks back to Steve there’s resolve scrunched between his brows. He turns to his wife who nods, a soft smile spreads across her face. “Unfortunately for us, I think you might be right, Steve. If Lucas and the boys have already decided Max is their friend– and if what you’re implying about the two of them is true– I don’t think we could keep him from seeing her. No matter how dangerous it might be. That boy will always do what he thinks is right, consequences be damned.”

“You can watch him this week, and we’ll see how it goes,” Mrs. Sinclair says, her smile now wide and loving, bright enough to match the home her family has built.  “All we ask is that you keep us in the loop, and he stays away from the Hargrove’s.”

“The kids talk about you constantly,” Mr. Sinclair continues, “and Claudia only has good things to say about you– Max too. We only got to meet her when we drove her home that night, but it’d be nice if we got another chance. Maybe sometime next week we can have the both of you over for dinner to get to know each other.” 

Butterflies erupt in Steve’s stomach at the giddy realization that they’re willing to take a chance on him. To trust him with something as important as their son’s safety is a blessing Steve thought he’d never be worthy of.

They work out the scheduling details, and Steve leaves feeling higher than he has in months. He’ll do everything he can to prove to the Sinclair’s that he deserves the chance they’re giving him, that neither he nor Max are their parents, and that Lucas will be happier for it. He can’t imagine how Lucas would’ve felt if kept away from Max, but now it doesn’t matter. Steve can keep his kids under one roof.

Three down, three more to go.

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest

[dyslexicsquirrel]

This is a super rough draft and I'm working to polish it up for AO3 but have some childhood friends who kissed (no homo) second chance romance(?) Harringrove

I haven't posted anything in forever and this idea took over my body so uh I hope you like it? If you don't? Don't tell me lmao

Now I'm thinking about childhood friends Steve and Billy who practice kissing and whatever it's totally not gay. But Steve is like imagining their life after high school together, how they're gonna go to the same college and be roommates. Maybe if they get to kiss sometimes still that would be fine.

He tells Billy about it cause they're best friends and they tell each other everything. He thought Billy was on board. He helped Steve study, made sure he graduated.

So he's a little surprised when he gets to the school and Billy's Camaro isn't there cause he was running late but Billy always did like to make an entrance. Except Steve keeps checking down their row in the stadium and Billy never shows up. Doesn't come running onto the field when they call his name.

When he goes to return the cap and gown and pick up his diploma after the ceremony, the lady at the table check's her list and tells Steve "Looks like Billy picked his up the last day of class."

There's a big hole in the middle of Steve's chest that never really quite goes away. Not through college and parties or meeting his wife and getting married. Having his kids helps a bit but it's always there, sharp and jagged just like the boy who made it.

Steve focuses on work and raising his kids and maybe that's why his marriage falls apart. His wife handed him a big Manila envelope with sadness in her eyes. "You're a great dad and there's a part of me that will always love you, but I don't think you ever loved me, Steve, and I deserve better than that. We both do."

He agreed to everything, got split custody, and moved into an apartment in the city. It was beige and empty, but he covered it with pictures of his kids and ignored the way the hole in his chest started crumbling inward, growing every morning he woke up to silence until he felt hollow.

Steve got the kids for the summer and rented an RV. They were driving to California cause the kids had never seen the Pacific, he told his ex. She shrugged and sent them all off with hugs and kisses on the forehead. If a tiny voice in the back of his head called him a liar, he ignored it.

They ate at hole in the wall diners off the highway, but Steve splurged on hotels with pools cause sue him he was too high maintenance to live without soft sheets and good shower pressure.

Somewhere in Kansas or Colorado, Steve couldn't remember where they were right then, he saw the gas gauge getting low and pulling off at the next exit to find a place to get gas.

Steve almost ran a red light when he saw the sign at the convenience store on the corner. It had his brain lighting up like fireworks, memories of a past he didn't normally let himself think about crashing against the inside of his skull like waves.

There was no way. It was just a coincidence. He made sure the kids were fine and swung into the parking lot after the light turned green. "Dad's just a little tired. We'll find a place to check in after I fill up the tank."

The gas pump was old fashioned, not a single card reader in sight, and Steve shook his head with a chuckle, before rounding up the kids and heading inside. They dumped way too many snacks on the counter when they got to the front of the line. "Can I also get $40 on pump 3?" here told the guy behind the counter who was restocking cigarettes.

Short blonde hair, wide shoulders under a worn t-shirt, jeans so tight they molded to his ass and had Steve biting the inside of his cheek because he was in public, for fuck's sake.

He had to be really hard up if he was on the verge of making a spectacle of himself over some rando in a gas station. A grunt and the guy turned, pinning Steve with the brightest blue eyes Steve had ever seen.

Ones that haunted his dreams. "Billy?" he whispered, wallet slipping out of his numb fingers.

The guy who couldn't be Billy blinked at him, except he said, "Steve."

Robbie tugged on the hem of his shirt. "Who's that, dad?"

"Dad?" Billy repeated, sounding confused and a little accusatory. And seriously, fuck him.

"Just someone I used to know." He needed to get out of there before he made a scene of a different kind by jumping over the counter and punching Billy in his stupid, perfect face. "How much do I owe you?"

Billy's frown deepened. He bagged up all of the snacks, no longer meeting Steve's eyes and said, "Don't worry about it" when he handed them over.

Nope. He was not making it that easy. *You left. You left me. Why did you leave me?* clamored to get passed his lips, but Steve refused to be that pathetic when Billy obviously hadn't cared as much as Steve. He got his wallet off the floor and slapped his credit card on the counter, handing the kids the bags to hold.

Billy rolled his eyes, the way he had whenever they were kids and Steve did something Billy thought was stupid. They stood on silence except for the chatter of his kids and the bell chiming over the door when someone else came in. Steve took his receipt without a word.

"Come on, you two, let's go." He herded the kids toward the door, determined to walk out on Billy the way the other man had walked out on him, but Steve never did have much self control.

Billy was still watching him and their eyes met when Steve looked over his shoulder. "You know a good hotel around here?"

"There's a Best Western a few blocks down. Nicest place in town."

Was he imagining the question in Billy's eyes? Steve didn't know. Grace whined, "Come on, dad," the way only teenagers could and Steve let the door swing closed behind him.

Part of Steve was anticipating the knock at the door after the sun had set and the kids were both curled up in their beds. The other part called him an idiot for still holding a torch for the guy who broke his heart.

The rap on the door was soft, but Steve still jumped, tripping over his feet when he got off the couch.

There was Billy on the other side of the door, a cigarette dangling from his lips, hands shoved into his pockets.

Mindful of his kids, Steve stepped outside, leaving the door cracked behind him, while they stared at each other, the weight of all the years between them.

Billy broke the silence first, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, ash flicked from the tip in a cascade of sparks. "Where's Mrs. Harrington?"

That was about all Steve could take. He shoved at Billy's chest, still as solid as it had been back in high school, the prick. Billy didn't budge an inch. "I got divorced last year."

Billy took a long drag, a quiet "Shit" exhaled on a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah." Steve took the cigarette from Billy like they used to. He hadn't had a drag in years and almost choked.

There was no laughter, no jibe at Steve forgetting how to smoke. Instead, one of Billy's hands rubbed circles against Steve's back. Just that one touch unlocked something in Steve, all the years of longing, of loneliness, of regret. He wrapped his free hand around Billy's waist and tucked his face into the other man's chest.

"Why?" It came out garbled and wet from his tears but Billy understood all the same.

His answer made his tears run faster. But it was okay because size Billy's arms wrapped around him, holding Steve together. "Because I loved you too much."

"You're a fucking asshole."

"I know."

"I loved you too."

"I know." Of course he had.

They stayed like that until Steve got himself back together, the cigarette left to snuff itself out on the concrete. His eyes red and puffy and Billy wiped the moisture off his cheeks with his thumbs.

Steve leaned into Billy’s calloused palms, pulling the scent of Marlboroughs and warm skin into his lungs. He sniffed loud, echoed by the crickets and the distant traffic. He needed to say something or else he’d start crying again because Billy was looking at him the way Steve always secretly dreamed Billy would look at him one day.

He wanted to know what the hell he ‘loved him too much’ to stay meant, but this thing—could he call it a thing? Robin would probably call him a dingus right about now—was too shaky, like a house built on a cliff during an earthquake.

So instead, he said, “You know I meant why’d you pick that name when I asked why, but thanks for the declaration, I guess.”

Steve felt Billy’s chuckle where their chests still touched. “Now who’s the asshole?”

And, okay, Steve really was curious because Billy had to be the one who owned that place and had the balls to slap Pretty Boy on the front of a building.

Which meant he thought about Steve and the nickname he bestowed upon him enough to name his business after him. To have to see it every day and think about Steve.

So he was curious, but not enough to stop and ask when Billy was angling Steve’s head with the hand still holding his cheek to press their lips together.

It had been decades since the last time Steve and Billy kissed and it was still the best feeling in the world. The feeling of a full beard was new, but Billy’s hands felt the same, cradling the back of Steve’s head, the other pressed low on his back.

He still tasted like cigarettes and the mint gum he liked to chew.

Steve didn’t pull away until he heard the bathroom door close inside the room and even then he didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together so they were still sharing the same air for as long as possible.

“How long are you here for?” Billy whispered, like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly, he would shatter the moment like spun glass.

“Just until tomorrow. The kids and I are going to California for the summer.” Saying it out loud, in front of Billy, made it feel like a dirty little secret. Billy knew why Steve was going there of all places if they way one side of his mouth kicked up. Steve had missed that smirk. He’d missed a lot of things if her were being honest.

“Maybe you can swing back through on your way back.”

The hopeful note Steve heard made him feel bold, reckless. “You should come with us.”

“What?”

“To California. You should come with us. I got an RV so there’s plenty of room. We could take turns driving. Grace and Robbie are cool kids, I swear. I’m realizing now that I said that that it’s kind of weird. Forget it—” His nervous rambling was cut off by Billy’s lips.

“Shut up, pretty boy. I’ve been wanting to go to California with you my whole life.” And, oh. Well, Steve was done for. His hands curled into the fabric of Billy’s shirt, holding on for dear life, scared if he let go Billy would disappear. “Besides, I should probably get to know your rugrats before I ask their dad to marry me.”

Steve's eye went comically wide and his heart stopped and that hole in his chest felt like Billy had slapped a patch over it. He wheezed. “Huh?”

“You think I’m letting you go again, Harrington?”

That was fine with Steve.

[ghostieblotts]

Hello hi hold everything. I was scrolling through your blog and kept getting hit in the face with vague allusions to a TOTK SAF AU????? Which sounds utterly delightful + heartbreaking??? Spill the tea what’s up with that

AHA HI. Okay so I haven't got around to properly posting about it yet because I have been working on it behind the scenes for the most part, lots of yapping in dms with like 3 other people (<3) and writing bits and pieces of fics that I am hoping to edit a bit and post eventually. However I have been unable to stop myself from mentioning it publicly because they live RENT FREE IN MY HEAD AT ALL TIMES.

I haven't got a full cast yet bc there are too many characters in Zelda and I am mostly focused on Curtwen for the purposes of the au, so most characters are literally just their original versions for now. But! The core of the au is that Curt is Link and Owen is Zelda. Other castings include Tatiana as Sidon, Barb as Purah, Cynthia as Impa, the Informant as a fusion of Yunobo and Penn, and Sergio as Hudson.

The plot is basically the same as canon botw and totk, I just break my own heart by making it Curtwen. Probably the biggest difference is that I'm making them older at the start of the story than Link and Zelda are in the original (I am Not making them 16/17, it isn't happening), and the span of time between Curt being assigned as Owen's knight and the Calamity breaking out is also longer than in canon (probably at least a year, potentially more).

Lots of angst with Owen desperately trying to awaken a sacred power bestowed by a goddess that will never answer his prayers, lots of pain with Curt dying in Owen's arms and being resurrected without his memories, lots of me crying because *gestures incoherently at the entire plot of TotK*. But also them getting to have some fun romance cliches with royal balls, and them getting to live in a cottage in Hateno Village together and slowly get to heal from the hell that their shared destiny has put them through.

The whole thing kind of exists because of the opening scene of totk. Owen falls, and Curt fails to save him, and he spends the entire rest of the plot trying to cope with and atone for that failure. He's haunted by images of Owen, constantly chasing him, being forced to ask if Owen is the one behind all the chaos going on, and eventually finding that the truth was hanging over him all along and might be even harder to bear.

I think I do have one proper post about them which was for an ask game a while back, which you can find here.

Uhhhh yeah. I'm inconsolable about them, honestly. I wrote a version of the "Tears of the Dragon" cutscene for this au which is maybe a bit naff but was very fun so maybe I will post it someday when I have more time.

Thank you so much for asking about it though!! People being interested in my aus gives me life <3

[raventrigonsdaughter]

begging they make maximus and dane a thing and give lucy a girlfriend who is also a new protagonist and NOT WHITE (because the show is lacking on both departments) next season and i can't take anymore straight bullshit into this fandom, i miss when fallout was GAY or really just not as painfully straight as it became in this hellsite after the show

[corvid-corvette-coven]

The Modern Messiah

Christ would be crucified again if He returned for us in the modern day.

There is no seat at the table for a Man who loves despite gender, queer identity, race, religion, creed, occupation, or sins today.

There is no pew to sit upon, nor bread broken, nor wine poured for such a Man who stands before us and calls Himself the Son of God once more.

He could not be reconciled with the Messiah we know.

The modern Messiah is alabaster white, painted drops of bright red mark Him 5 times across the arms legs and ribs, and He is carved upon a cross, nailed proudly above the priest like a prized Fish, or Lamb, slaughtered and stuffed and pacified so He may not defy the teachings of religion once more.

The modern Messiah is offered no seat at the table, for the safety of sin, He is kept a spears length away, and remains upon the wall.

If a man is born once more as Jesus Christ, He would loathe the priest and cry out against the churchmen who preach violence and know only hate in their hearts.

We will seize Him with such violence just as before, we will bolt Him upon a crucifix of steel, guild Him in a crown of barbed wire, and the Son of God will die again as a bullet pierces His ribs.

Those who pray to the marble Man chained in churches dread the day those stone still eyes and lips turn upon them, to pray back.

[quietwingsinthesky]

millie isn’t even still alive cause anyone ever brought her back. she just lives and lives and lives. she’s lucky. she’s good at her job. she has the last minute miracles, but never the ones that need to reach far beyond the grave, just the ones that pull your guts back in where they should be.

what’s dead should stay dead. she knows sam and dean would put her on the pyre and move on. she knows it. she knows it. (she’s not giving them a chance to prove her wrong.)

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

tiny seed of a fic idea: the ghoul and lucy make it to vegas after 2+ weeks of Team Bonding Through The Power Of Life Threatening Road Trips, by now lucy has basically solemnly vowed to help him find his family, and then in homage to the new vegas game, cooper IMMEDIATELY gets shot in the head and dies the minute they enter vegas. he's fine, he'll be fine, he's gonna get patched up by some random good samaritan doctor and come back swinging for incredibly violent revenge. but lucy does not know this. bonus points if it's her shithead dad that shot him

[exasperatedsighohmy]

Should I post my fandom art here? Let’s find out

[miidnightpoet]

Sweetheart (mini fic possible more parts)

also on a03

Steve and Robin sat by the phone impatenitly, waiting for the call that would change their lives. Steve sighed and stood up, i’m going to grab some water want anything” he asked Robin before heading to the kitchen.

Robin grabbed his arm to pull him back onto the couch, you can't leave, what if they call, i'm horrible on the phone.” she complained

He laughed, “then why did i make you my personal assistant? hmm” He raised one eyebrow in a questioning way sending robin falling off the couch and onto the floor. 

The phone rang, Robin raced to grab it. “Hello, Harrigton residence, Robin speaking. Oh” she paused a undeciferable look on her face “oh, alright i’ll call him now” She put the phone against her shoulder to block the microphone. “MR.HARRINGTON! There’s a call for you, it’s the record label” Steve shook his head at her shenanigans. “He’ll be right with you” Robin told the other side of the phone.

“So??” Steve mouthed to her excitement brewing in him like a cup of coffee, Robin shrugged, 

“They wanted to talk to you” she mouthed back at him. She handed him the phone looking more anxious than he was.

“Hello, Steve Harrington speaking, my assistant said you were wanting to talk to me.” He paused waiting for a response. 

“Ah yes, Steve Harrington. I have some big news for you son!” It was the record label producer he had talked to a few months ago. “You’ve been signed by Starlight Records!” There was nothing that could wipe the grin off his face, he had done it, he had made it into the music industry and he hadn’t done it for himself, he had done it for Eddie. 

“Really! That’s amazing!” Steve answered calmly enough that he still sounded excited but not like a maniac. “What are the next steps?” He asked

There was a pause on the other side of the line, a bit of rifling through papers “Well were moving you out to New York to record the rest of your album, did you decided on a name for it?” 

Steve nodded, they couldn’t see him but nodding was fun, “Yes, it’s called Sweetheart. He told the producer excitedly. It hadn’t taken him long to come up witht he name, it was one of the pet names Eddie ahd called him before he disappeared three months after everything that happened. Steve didn’t even get a goddamn letter. 

“Alright then Steve, well work out the details later I’ll let you go and celebrate with your friends” The producer said goodbye and the phone line went silent.

Robin looked up at him from the floor, “So did you get it?” she asked impatiently

“What do you think?” Steve asked her, smirking, Robin jumped up off the floor and gave Steve the biggest hug she’s probably ever given him. “Jeez Rob, i need to breathe if i'm going to be recording an album” he laughed “also how do you feel about moving to New York with me?”

part 2 -> here

part 3 -> here

[wizardnuke]

i love the empire kids so so much i feel like i am losing my gfuckinf mind. ohh my god empire kids

[z-mizcellaneous-z]

was past me back in high school a sad pathetic little meow meow emo bitch who i am glad i no longer am? absolutely. did past me also have killer fucking taste in music? FUCK YES, OH MY GOD. THESE ARE A FUCKING BOP WHAT THE HELL-