#lamp fic

[crazy-rat-man]

Logan Gets in Hot Water

Summary: Logan is faced with gay panic after getting asked on a date with an extremely attractive man, whilst also coping with his two crushes on the local baristas.

Pairings: Logince, Logicality, Analogical, Moxiety, LAMP, platonic Virgil/Remus/Janus

Warnings: a couple swears

Logan stopped at his usual coffee shop at precisely 9:45. Although he did have the day off, he didn’t want to stray too far off his normal schedule. It was abnormally quiet today, the usual couches and tables empty. Logan mentally logs the occurrence and saunters up to the counter.

“A large black coffee, please.”

At the register was a new barista that he’d never seen here before. He had brown hair with purple tips and a downcast look on his face.

“A dollar ninety-five. Do you want a receipt?”

“Please.” Logan handed over two dollars in cash. “Keep the change.”

Logan waited patiently, watching the barista methodically pour the coffee, some dripping off the sides. He began immediately apologizing to his supervisor, who began to reassure him.

“No, no, you’re doing great, kiddo! Just slow down and wipe down the sides when you’re finished pouring.”

Patton noticed Logan waiting and he gleefully smiled at him. Logan responded with a polite smirk.

“Well, good morning, Logan! I thought it was your day off?”

“It was, but I didn’t want to stray off routine.” Although Logan detested small talk, he found himself looking forward to his conversations with the barista before his coffee. He was surprised Patton remembered it was his day off, though he shouldn’t have. Patton has always been very thoughtful.

“Well, I’m glad you still stopped in this morning, I always love to see you!”

Logan quickly looked around the room to find something to change the conversation and to call attention away from his blushing. His eyes glazed over to the violet barista. “Is he new?”

“Oh, yeah. Virgil started this week. He’s pretty quiet, but he’s actually a natural at latte art! You should get one this week!”

While Logan hardly ever changed his coffee order, he was enticed by this Virgil. “Sounds excellent.”

“Uh, here you go.” Virgil placed the cup down on the counter.

“Thank you, Virgil.” Logan picked up the cup and began to head out the door.

“See you tomorrow!” shouted Patton. Logan nodded and headed off to his next engagement.

Since Logan had the day off, he thought it an excellent day to catch up on some reading at the park. Normally he prefered to read in the comfort of his own home, but the floor was being fumigated and it was nice outside. There were a few college kids quietly playing ultimate frisbee, and a couple moms with their kids. Logan found a park bench under a tree and pulled his book and a granola bar out of his bookbag.

As Logan began to read his newest Agatha Christie novel, he found himself unable to focus. He understood his feelings towards Patton, though he knew those were just silly daydreams. But now the new barista? He could hardly stand feelings towards one of them, but two? Statistically speaking, he didn’t have half a chance with either, so falling for both were not very good odds. But still, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. Dammit! Why do all of the employees there have to be perfect?

Logan’s mental debate was interrupted by a pigeon landing on his shoulder. To be completely honest, it wasn’t the bird that interrupted his thoughts as much as a young man with a camera yelling at him to be still.

“Hey, Poe? Would you mind if I took a picture? The bird and the whole librarian look is too good not to shoot.”

Logan would never admit this, but he appreciated being compared to Edgar Allen Poe, almost as much as he appreciated the exceedingly handsome man paying him attention.

“I don’t see why not. But I think you may also have to ask the bird.”

The laugh that came out of the photographer was enough to make Logan blush. Surely the joke wasn’t that funny, but his laugh was amazing.

“Could you look right at the camera? Yes, yes, perfect!”

As soon as the pictures were done, the bird flew off to pick up some crumbs in the street. Logan watched the bird disappear and turned around to see the photographer sitting next to him.

“Wanna see?”

Logan was amazed at what he saw. Sure, Logan was just an ordinary guy. But these pictures with the bird made him look majestic.

“These are amazing! I swear, you could be a model.” For the third time today, Logan was uncontrollably blushing.

“Well, thank you. Your pictures are also adequate. Are you a professional?”

“Oh, no,” the photographer laughed. “Hopefully one day, but I’m still a student.”

“I believe you have the skill set to be able to achieve that one day. You have an eye for these sorts of things.”

“Yes, I do have an eye for beauty,” the photographer said with a wink. Shit, now they were both blushing.

“Oh, where are my manners? Pray forgive me, I’m Roman.”

“Logan. Pleased to meet you.”

Roman bit his lip and took a small breath. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but I would love to take more pictures of you. You’re very photogenic, you know.”

This stranger wanted to spend more time with him? Maybe he was just cursed with all of these attractive guys.

“Oh, um, thank you. I don’t have any other engagements, so-” Before Logan even finished his sentence, he was being dragged to the nearest fountain.

Logan couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed being photographed for two hours. Pictures were never his thing, but Roman made him laugh more times than he could count on his fingers. They finally stopped to grab some pretzels at a stand.

“Would you mind holding Maria?”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry. That’s the name of my camera!” Logan smiled at his endearing nature and took the camera in his hands. When he looked back up, Roman was gone.

He better not be paying for both of them.

By the time Logan made his way over the pretzel stand, Roman was holding two pretzels. “You want mustard?’

“You didn’t have to pay for me, I could have paid for myself.”

“Come on, microsoft nerd, the gentleman’s always supposed to pay on the first date.” Roman then realized he said that comment out loud. Both of them mirrored the other looking like a deer in headlights.

“I-I meant to say on the first day! We’ve ever met! Because we met, you know, today,” Roman stammered. Shit he’s cute.

“So, mustard? Heh.“

“Why are you the gentleman? Both of us are males.”

Roman began to laugh uncontrollably. “Fragile ego, much? Next time, you can pay then, Specs.”

Next time. Logan liked the idea of next time.

“Oh, look at the time! I’ve got a seminar tonight. Could I have your number? So, I can, you know, send the pictures.”

“Sure.”

The two exchanged numbers and went their separate ways, and neither of them could stop thinking of the other.

A few days went on of them exchanging flirtatious text messages when they finally decided to meet up again.

Prince RoRo: When am I finally going to see your marvelous face again?

Logan: We video chatted last night.

Prince RoRo: No dummy I mean in person :)

Logan didn’t quite understand why his stomach was hurting, but he didn’t exactly hate it. Roman wanted to see him again. Logan quickly ran his schedule through his head.

Logan: I’m pretty busy this week, but I stop for coffee every morning at 9:45 in Beanie’s.

Prince RoRo: Sounds like a date ;) see you tomorrow!

A date. Huh. Logan hadn’t been on a date since high school when he was still pretending to be straight. What does one wear to a coffee date? And since when did Logan care about his wardrobe?

Logan woke up at 6:30 out of anticipation for his date. After trying on all of his clothes in his closet, he decided on a black polo and a blue tie. He then combed his hair to perfection and took an ibuprofen to calm his nerves.

At 9:42 Logan waited outside of Beanie’s for Roman, wanting to be polite. Where is he? Did he forget? Did he bail? Logan knew these thoughts were foolish, but he couldn’t help but think them. Luckily, he didn’t have to worry for long; Roman walked up to Beanie’s at 9:44. Wow he’s hot.

“This is the place, huh? It’s pretty cute.”

“They have good coffee.”

Roman suppressed a laugh and held out his arm for Logan to take. Logan’s stomach started to hurt again.

“Shall we then?”

Patton’s face lit up when he saw Logan walk through the door, but immediately dropped when he saw Roman. Patton shook his personal feelings out of his demeanor and put on his customer service face.

“Hey, Logan! Who’s this?” Patton asked politely. In all honesty, he didn’t really want to know. Though, the new stranger was handsome.

“I’m Roman! Excellent to meet you! Logan says this is his favorite place for coffee and I had to check it out!”

Patton’s face lit up at the favorite coffee part but dropped again when he heard them bantering about who would pay.

“Nonsense. I said I would pay next time when we got pretzels. It is next time.”

“Fine, Book Germ, you can pay. This time.”

Patton’s heart sunk to his stomach. This isn’t their first date. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his favorite purple barista with the same sunken look.

“Uhm, Logan, the usual?” Virgil asked.

Over the past few weeks of Logan coming in here, Virgil had come out of his shell and usually engaged in conversation. Now it feels like the first time it came in here. Logan didn’t know why that made him upset. He already has Roman.

“That’d be fine, Virgil. Thank you.”

“And for you?” Virgil asked the letterman jacket clad stranger.

“Hmm, I’ll take an iced mocha almond milk latte, please and thank you,” Roman answered excitedly.

“Coming right up.”

The coffee shop was quieter than when Logan usually came in, with an uncomfortable tension in the air. As soon as the drinks were prepared, Patton and Virgil excused themselves to the back. Virgil totally didn’t see Patton’s eyes well and Patton definitely didn’t see Virgil legs shaking.

V-card: plan’s off. he’s got a bf

Dirty Rat: wuts ur point

V-card: I can’t do that to him I should just be happy for him

Dirty Rat: date both of them

V-card: I should’ve texted Janus

Dirty Rat: cant he’s getting his butt cheeks glued together rn

V-card: omg

Virgil didn’t really know why he was texting Remus when Patton was right there. Maybe because it was clear Patton felt things for Logan too. He didn’t need to hurt himself more than he already was but he also didn’t like it when Patton was upset.

“You okay, Padre?”

Patton plastered on a smile and brushed the tears away. “Sure am, Kiddo! Just allergies, that’s all.”

“Maybe they’re just siblings.”

“Siblings who hold hands?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe kiddo. Want a cupcake?”

“Only if you have one too.”

Virgil smiled up at Patton and Patton beamed. Things were going to be okay.

Logan and Roman sat at a little tea table and drank their coffee, but Roman could tell something was off with Logan.

“What’s up, Lo?”

Logan was startled out of his thoughts. “Oh, nothing important. The barista’s are just different today.”

“Not the usual people?”

“No, they usually talk more to me. Is it the tie?”

Roman looked over at the counter at the two eating cupcakes and side-eyeing Logan.

“Specs, you really are clueless.”

This got Logan’s attention. “What?”

“They like you. For good reason too, they’re almost as cute as you are.”

Logan didn’t know what to do with this information. For one thing, Roman called him cute. Secondly, the baristas might like him back. And for a third, Roman thought they were cute too. Do they like him? Logan mentally goes through all of their conversations every morning.

“Oh. Huh. Well. Uhm.”

“Full sentences, Lolo. You think they’re cute too, don’t you?”

Logan hesitated. Was this a trick? A test? Be honest or give the answer Roman might want to hear? After a moment of silence, he quietly answered, “yes.”

Logan expected Roman to look disappointed, but for some reason, he looked brighter.

“You got a pen?”

He knew by now not to question Roman’s antics and slowly handed over his blue ballpoint pen. Logan watched as Roman scribbled something on a post it note and ran up to the front.

“Here, for both of you!” he proclaimed as he slammed the sticky note on the counter.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Virgil and Patton went up to the counter to read what was on the note. From what he could see, it was two phone numbers and a winky face.

“What just happened?”

“I dunno, Pat. Did he just ask us out?”

Patton just smiled from ear to ear. He looked over and waved at the couple at the table, Roman smiling and waving back, and Logan looking like a deer in headlights.

As the two of them walked out the door, Logan left a ten dollar tip and Roman winked at the pair of boys behind the counter.

KittyPat: hello? You gave us your numbers today?

Prince RoRo: Hello there, fair lad! Glad you got my note :)

V-card: who’s the other #

Prince RoRo: It’s Logan, ofc! He kinda likes you both :3

Logan’s stomach started to hurt again. Why do they have to hurt his stomach so much?

V-card: ...

KittyPat: Logan?

Logan: I suppose I should confirm that it is true.

All at once, Virgil, Logan, and Patton stopped whatever they were doing and just stared at their phones.

Prince RoRo: So, dinner tomorrow night? :)))

KittyPat: sure! <3

V-card: I’m down.

Prince RoRo: Logan?

Logan stared at his phone once more. Was this really happening?

Logan: Sounds nice.

KittyPat: :D

[thiefguard]

Had QueenNie feels, 0/10 would not recommend.

Started as meta, turned into fic??

Thesis statement:

Nie losing her Queen is terrible. Tragic. Especially in light of everything that comes after with Descendant.

But.

Consider it from Queen’s POV.

You love this woman, this Jinn so much that you defy court practice and all of your most leal advisors to take her for your wife. And you know the risks. You know that she could be dangerous, deadly without ever even meaning it, and so you take all the precautions. Even if they’re meaningless, even if they don’t help, you’d try anything that meant you got to keep her.

And then. One terrible, awful night, you say something thoughtless. You almost Wish, and you feel the power of it crackle between you. You see the fear in her eyes as she shushes you, as she pulls away. How much you scared her. How terribly it could have ended.

And then she slips away. Just for a few moments, she says. To collect herself.

But.

The new day dawns and she has not returned.

And you rationalise she just needs some time. You almost ruined everything with a moment of recklessness. You have time in abundance and she is welcome to it.

When she doesn’t return that night, you square your shoulders and slip back between your sheets with acceptance. You can wait.

Five days pass. A week. Surely she’ll be back by ten?

She isn’t.

A month.

And now, a terrible growing suspicion that something is Wrong. That she should be back by now, would be back by now if she could.

And you have no way of knowing. Has she come across danger? Is she hurt, is she in need, is she lingering somewhere in pain?

For she is not Gone, you feel that in your soul. The loss of her presence would be a seismic, cataclysmic shift, so fundamental that you would feel it. And you don’t. So.

Mayhaps another month?

Which passes by with no sign of her, until you begin to make bargains with the universe. If you sign this Treaty, then surely she will be back by the Kingdom’s feast day. If you can enact peace in the neighbouring territories then you may wake to find her in your solar, an enigmatic smile and a story on her lips, and all of this will be explained away. Forgiven and forgotten.

A year.

Two.

Five.

Did you anger her, you wonder? You only Wished to love her more freely, with abandon, unthinking. A lovely thing, a beautiful thing, and might you still be happy even if the wish had left your lips and you had become the whisper on the summer breeze?

You know about the first ray of morning sun. The ache in her heart and everything it cost her. And unmeaningly, unthinkingly, you could have set her through that again.

If she is angry then she has a right to it.

But.

Ten years.

Your advisors plead with you to re-marry. Every feast an opportunity, an introduction. Still time to secure the succession.

You want none of it. You name an heir. A niece. Your sister believes you have bestowed a great honour, but you think the girl will not thank you for it in time. Not as she grows to understand the responsibility, the weight of it, the ever present press of duty.

Twenty years.

Some days you miss her so much you awake frantic with it, the longing and worry as sharp as if she slipped from your sheets only moments ago. Other days it settles as a dull ache, seeping into moments as unexpectedly as morning fog.

Thirty years.

If she returned now, would she recognise the face you see before you in the mirror? You imagine her unchanged, untouched by the slow march of time. Your reflection smiles, just for a moment.

Forty-three years, five months, seventeen days.

A gentle breeze in your chambers. Soft voices by your bedside. Gentle hands. The concern of the little Princess grown into a woman soon to be Queen.

And still.

How sweet it would be to look upon her face once more.

You wish. You wish.

You Wish.

[presiding]

the outsider by deerghast, commissioned for place like void

[yonpote]

stand up, bend over

youtube

[the-ace-with-spades]

I might be a bit obsessed with this but I just like the idea that no matter how much more attractive they became over the years, Jake and Bradley still find their most attractive features to be the ones they had from the beginning

Like, I imagine that they meet in flight school when they're like 21-23 tops and haven't really filled out yet and even when they meet at Top Gun for the Dagger Mission as bitter exes that haven't talked to each other for a few years, they still feel the most attracted to the physical features they had all those years before, even if they've worked on their physiques enough that subjectively, anyone else would find something else in them attractive

For example, with Jake, most people would say what makes him the most attractive is his chest and arms but he wasn't built like that the close to ten years before when he and Bradley met. This kind of build is made by precise weight training, a strict protein heavy diet, and enough free time to do both and Jake never had that in the Naval Academy. He entered the flight training muscular but lean, with just the shape of a six pack and nice, muscular thighs made with punishment laps around the gym and morning exercise at the academy. Genetics, however, made his ass very very nice with hardly any try. And Bradley loved that tight perky ass when he was 23 and he's feeling so fucking fond about that ass when he's 33 he is barely paying attention to Jake's pecs and biceps and wide shoulders. All he can think is how that ass will feel if he gives it a squeeze, how that is going to move under his fingers when Jake tenses up.

To go even more into being sappy, I think Jake would find the most attractive the same parts of Bradley that Bradley would feel a bit insecure about. Imagine that Bradley was one of those kids that had a mismatched puberty — he got the hair, the shadowy mustache and the deep voice but he never quite grew out of being lanky, kinda like his dad. The baby fat never goes away from his cheeks and years of playing baseball make his thighs thick and sturdy but don't give the same advantage to his back and shoulders — it was kind of impossible with his diet and lack of protein and proper nutrition when he was a broke college student going to NROTC training three times a week.

Bradley hated it. The thick thighs would make his hips look rounder and made him the target of a plethora of 'girly hips' and 'thunder thighs' remarks from his baseball team. He's tried to mask the insecurity with putting swagger to his hips and with jokes about being jealous of his ass and with loose, unfitting jeans, but he's never grown out of it.

And Jake loved his thighs. Would always ask Bradley to squeeze his hips between them, would sit on them like it was the comfiest chair ever, would just grab and squeeze the softer sides, higher and closer to Bradley's hips, and caress it.

Bradley gets better at lifting, gets his back and shoulders wider, gets his arms bigger and yet—

And yet when Jake sees him, almost ten years since they met for the first time, wide shoulders, muscular back, the biceps so big he wouldn't be able to wrap his hand around them, six pack and sculptured, flat tummy, all he can think is God, I want those thighs around me. Because Bradley's thighs are still thick, his hips are still slightly rounder than the rest of him, but he's more proportionate and it just doesn't show as much.

And on top of everything, they will never ever admit it to anyone, but there's something else they find more attractive than anything else.

Bradley could look at Jake's dimples forever, the way they make Jake's eyes crinkle more and more with age, and Jake could look at the apples of Bradley's cheek, soft and round from the narrow-eyed smile, forever.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Six / Part Seven (YOU ARE HERE) / Part Eight

A03

If the odd, small sounding Steve had been a weird pill to swallow, then the loudly swearing, furious one might as well have been a different person.

Worse?

He wanted Gareth and Eddie to stay behind.

“You are not going to the lab by yourself.” Eddie deadpanned, blocking the door while Steve acted like an agitated snake in front of it.

“You don’t understand.” Steve hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, like he was trying to find a way out without bowling Eddie over.

Or breaking a window.

“Then help us understand!” Eddie shot back, throwing his hands up. 

Which was just the crux of the issue--because Steve seemed fine to talk about the lab being a horrible place, but kept refusing to answer why.

“You don’t have to tell us the full thing man, but give us something.” Gareth pleaded, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

Not his fault Steve was setting off his own anxiety.

The jock stepped back, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it.

"I don't have the time." He stressed, anger, worry and pure fear mixing together in his tone.

In a mutter he added; "You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Tentatively, Gareth reached out, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

For the first time since they’d known each other, Steve didn’t react to being touched.

"Eddie and I are gonna go no matter what. So you can either give us a heads up now, or you can be mad at us later when we just follow you anyway.” Gareth said, a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

Steve had turned partly to glare at him, but seemed to at least let the words sink in. To get through that no, really, they were going, and all this arguing was just wasting time. 

Not that Gareth trusted it. 

"I don't want you guys getting hurt." Steve burst out, and it looked like it cost him to admit even that much.

Like it was inevitable and all this was a Hail Mary attempt to keep them from that future.

Eddie seemed to pick up on it too, because he caught Steve's gaze and held it. "You're a part of Hellfire now. If you were in that lab, we'd be all coming for you. Not one of us--all of us.”

He followed it up by invading Steve’s space, jamming a finger into the jock's chest.

“I don’t know why you think we’d be okay with you getting hurt." Eddie stared hard at him, voice as serious as Gareth had ever heard it. “You’re our friend, too Steve. We’re not abandoning Tiff and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang, and we're also not letting you do something that has you this freaked out, alone.”

Which is what this all seemed to keep coming down to. How Steve was willing to throw himself at problems, how he kept wanting to handle his own issues, while trying to manage everyone else so that he was the only target.

The only person in the know, the only one in the line of fire. 

Like he was a burden instead of a person. 

Gareth kept wondering how the hell that had happened. If this had been anyone else he would have written it off as some macho bullshit, but Steve wasn't like that. He'd didn't need to be the one white knight. 

The fear he spoke with had always been too real, for that. 

It wasn't like they--or at least, Eddie and himself, hadn't picked up that something was happening, either. Something big. 

Given the weird, hushed conversations Steve kept have with Nancy, and Jonathan and even the kids sometimes…

Once, just once, Gareth had seen Steve talk to the Chief of Police. The asshole had looked awkward as hell, giving Steve a few pats to his shoulder, and Steve looking equally as awkward, leaning into it--but they looked like two people who'd gone through the same shit and now were stuck together. Not a police officer giving a warning to a teenager. Not even a family friend catching up. 

Something was up in Hawkins and now wasn't the time to dog Steve about it, but Gareth still wished he'd give them a hint. 

A tidbit, a morsel, of what the fuck had him so riled up.

“And if all this means our friends are in danger, then we're absolutely going too.” Eddie continued, nearly nose to nose with Steve.

Steve put his hands on his hips, frustration written all over his face--but he didn’t step away. "I don't think you'd be okay with it, it's just-- I'm just--already involved! This is how it’s been."

As if that wasn’t fucking alarming.

"And now, so are we.” Eddie threw back, pointing at the phone. "It’d help if you at least told us what to watch out for, but if not then we need to stop arguing so we can go help.”

That definitely got through.

Steve tapped a foot, blowing out a breath and overall acted as if Gareth and Eddie were the ones being unreasonable here.

(Or a pissed off single mother of six, not that Gareth was voicing that image.)

"Fine." He snapped finally, pinching the bridge of his nose and backing away from Eddie. “Fine! But you listen to me when we get out there, and if I tell you two to run, I need you to trust me and run.”

A grin tried to blast across Eddie’s face, the smug one he wore when he won and he knew it, but he covered it up before Steve saw.

Gareth doubted it’d take much to slide Steve right back into trying to keep them at the trailer, or straight up pull some dirty ass move to force it.

(He belatedly wondered if he should worry about Steve trying to stab one of Eddie’s tires out, but didn’t think the older teen would go that far.

Not yet, anyway.)

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me." Steve spoke over his shoulder, blowing through the door the second Eddie got out of the way, marching down the steps to his Beemer. "But let’s just say that lab did a lot worse than create shit like rabid dogs, and a few of their creations might still be there. Grab a weapon!"

“I thought there wasn’t any rabid dogs!” Gareth protested at the same time Eddie said;

"So the cops can get us on felony charges? What is trespassing not enough for you?"

Eddie shook his head, following Steve down to the gravel. "No thanks, man!"

“I never said their weren't rabid dogs at all, I said--wait, who told you that?” Steve asked, trying to turn and face Gareth but Eddie simply pushed him forward, kept him moving.

“They’ve waited for us long enough.” He whispered lowly, as Gareth scrambled about for something to use.

Managed to fetch the fire poker he knew Wayne kept around to scare away coyotes, or rival drug dealers, or anything else wandering about.

If Steve said bring a weapon, he'd bring a damn weapon.

Felony charges or not.

"The cops won't charge us. Not as long as Hopper’s the one who gets there first.” Steve said and the desperation in his voice had faded a little, revealing something hard and self-assured underneath.

Not cocky, but with the strength Hellfire had when approaching a boss or baddie they had conquered once before and were familiar with. 

"And if El's involved? He will get there first." Steve said firmly, whipping the backdoor of his car open and yanking a bag out.

A bag that had muffled squawking coming out of it.

Steve snatched a walkie talkie out from it, interrupting a stream of high pitched, upset nonsense coming out the tinny speakers.

Gareth caught someone half asking, half yelling if "-literally anyone could pick up!" before Steve hit the talk button.

"What's happening!?" He demanded, as he slammed the car door and stormed to the trunk.

"Steve!" Several voices yelled at once, the speakers shrieking in static feedback.

One beat out the others, as its owner screeched into the walkie in a tone that only children under fourteen and small dogs seemed to be capable of. "Where the hell have you been!? We called a code red an hour ago!"

"Bitch later Henderson, explain now." Steve commanded, picking out a bat with fucking house nails hammered into it.

Several of which were stained a rusted, blood-red.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Steve with his mouth ajar as the nails gleamed lazily in his porchlights. 

Gareth couldn't blame him; his own heart had just picked up speed.

Steve gave the bat two experimental twirls, flipping it easily in his hand, before he seemed satisfied. Both the weapon and the movement worked together, elevating Steve into something straight out of the fantasy novels Hellfire traded around.

Like a fucking paladin come to life.

Gareth felt his breath hitch at the way it highlighted the guy's biceps, already on display since Steve had shoved his sleeves up. The movement was so smooth and well practiced that it was clear this was his weapon of choice--and that he’d definitely used it before.

Gareth wasn't even attracted to Steve Harrington, but one couldn't be blamed for having eyes.

"Mike insisted he saw lights on at the lab, and Will thought he might have felt something--" Henderson started, before being abruptly interrupted by someone on his end.

"He did feel something, Dustin!"

"Shut up, I'm talking to Steve!”

"Stop arguing and give me the short version. You're all in the lab?" Steve cut in.

‘It should be illegal to sound that annoyed while moving like that.’ Gareth thought idly, as Steve dropped the bat to the ground, then propped it up against his car.

He waved Eddie and Gareth over, one hand going to cover the walkie talkie’s speakers as it spat static. ‘Pick one.’ He mouthed, in the exact same way Gareth’s mom did when she was trying to talk to him and someone on the phone at the same time.

With a short glance at each other, they went.

"--we got to the lab and El and Max were already here--" Dustin tried again, and once again was talked over, making the conversation extremely hard to follow.

Kids, God.

"-You told us to meet you here-"

"-and there were these older kids running around-'

"-excuse you, tiny bratling, we are not kids-"

"Was that Grant?" Gareth found himself asking, as Steve waved a hand above his open trunk distractedly, like a vendor showing off wares.

Except instead of trinkets, it held a gun, a knife and a fucking candlestick.

The latter of which sported another suspicious red stain.

There was a second explosion of noise, and what sounded like multiple walkie's being fought over before a young, female voice came on, its owner having apparently won the tug of war.

"The idiots thought they saw something but it turned out to just be some teenagers breaking into the lab for fun." She scoffed, and sounded suspiciously like a Tiff Jr.

It took a second, but Gareth finally placed the voice to the redheaded girl--the one who rolled her eyes a lot.

"The wall and part of the floor collapsed, some guy fell through a hole into a locked room and El thinks the collapse wasn't an accident." The words were spoken rapid fire, like a front line soldier relaying information. "She and Will both feel something."

Eddie picked up the knife while Gareth simply held up his fire poker.

Steve nodded to them, and closed the trunk.

"Can you all get out of there safely?" He asked.

"El thinks if we leave, the--thing here will attack the guy that's stuck."

'Thing' Gareth mouthed to himself.

Not a person.

Not a dog, or bear, or--anything else.

A thing.

"Fuck." Steve spat, taking his hand off the talk button so no one on the other side heard.

"She and Will aren't sure what it is yet but they're thinking it's from the Upside Down."

After a brief pause wherein someone could be heard shouting in the distance, she sarcastically added; "Honestly I'm happy to leave the guy that's stuck here, he's really annoying--"

"No sacrificing Stewart!" Steve snapped instantly, and despite all the swearing and dramatics, having contact with the kids seemed to ease something in him.

His movements were no longer frantic, back and shoulders looser.

Even the way he talked seemed to unclench, like he'd been told the worst had come and now that it was finally here, he could deal with it.

"If you're sure, because I'm pretty sure Billy is gonna start looking for me soon." Max argued.

Steve groaned. "I'll handle him if he shows up."

For the first time since Steve had picked up the walkie, silence descended.

Gareth wasn't exactly an expert in such things, but it felt judgmental.

"Are you gonna handle it like the last time you handled it? Cause we don't have anything to knock him out with and I don't know if your head can--"

"Thank you Max, but I can deal with him." Steve cut in immediately, face flaming and yeah, they were definitely out of whatever protective crazy mode Steve had started off in. "This time I have my bat and backup. So unless your brother has taken to carrying stacks of plates around, I think I'll be fine!"

"Step brother." Max corrected immediately, huffing.

Then in a slightly quieter voice, she added: "Hey Steve? Get here fast."

"I'm coming. Steve over and out." He said firmly, like an older brother reassuring a younger sibling.

How the hell the guy had ever managed to appear like a heartless asshole was beyond Gareth.

Apparently it was beyond Eddie too because the guy was practically drooling with heart eyes in Steve's direction.

The kids signed off, before quiet, blessedly descended.

"Can I ask one question?" Gareth asked, as Steve cursed at the finally silent walkie talkie.

Steve stopped, entire chest heaving in a sigh.

"Yeah, one." He said, as though even that cost him a lot.

Out of the corner of his eye Gareth watched Eddie shake himself to awareness, and then try to flip the knife with the same move Steve used on the bat's handle.

He fumbled it immediately, chasing the blade as it clattered to the ground.

"Why a candlestick?" Gareth asked quickly, before Steve turned and witnessed Eddie's awkward, scrambling retrieval.

"Jonathan tends to grab the weirdest shit as a weapon." Steve responded. "He's used a trophy, multiple chairs, a lamp," he made an etc. all gesture, as if any of that actually explained things instead of causing about ten more questions.

"The candlestick actually worked pretty well so I kept it." He finished.

"Jonathan Byers?" Eddie said, holding the knife once more and clearly pretending he'd never tried to copy Steve. "How very Cluedo of him."

Steve frowned, nose scrunching in confusion. "Cluedo?"

"He means the game Clue. It's called Cluedo in Europe, Eddie's just a tabletop snob." Gareth rambled anxiously, because throwing Jonathan Byers wielding a candlestick into the mix was just the icing on top of the weird cake.

Part of him wondered if it would be rude if he asked Steve to spin the bat again, while the other part vaguely wondered if any of this was actually happening.

Maybe Eddie had accidentally laced the pot with a hallucinogenic.

(Frankly he wasn't sure how he'd have missed the addition of extra drugs, but hey; you couldn't say that made any more sense than Steve Harrington, small town golden boy, parading around with a fucking bat with nails in it, using a walkie talkie to speak to children about how a thing might try to attack one of their friends.)

The kid’s involvement at least, made a little bit of sense.

They were young but they weren't that young--and they also weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

Particularly not when they were riled up at the arcade.

Gareth knew the lot of them thought one of the girls had superpowers. He also knew they often pretended Will Byers, the kid who'd gone missing, had spent some time acting as a "spy" for whatever evil they all pretended to be battling.

He'd mostly assumed it was a D&D-slash- LARP kind of thing, or even just traumatized kids playing pretend to cope with what had happened, but now?

"I might have lied about just having one question." Gareth admitted as Steve picked up his bat.

"I'll explain some of it later, after we get them out." Steve said, as if Gareth might actually trust him to do so after doing his damndest to dodge giving an explanation. 

"Lead on, Sir Harrington." Eddie said before Gareth could say just that, like the lovestruck idiot he was. "We're going to need both cars to carry our wayward friends home, so Gareth and I will follow your lead."

Eddie spun his keys around his fingers, and given the smirk on his face, Gareth would bet money he was hoping it looked as cool as Steve's bat handling.

It didn't.

"Provided you promise to try not to lose us, because I've lived here all my life, I know where the lab is." He finished, and somehow managed to make the words sound fun and not the blatant warning it was.

Steve nodded once, hard. "Alright. Stay close to my car, and flash your high beams twice if you run into any problems--or see like, people in suites."

"People in suites?" Eddie asked, the knife still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

"Government agent kinda dudes, they're easy to spot." Steve said, like he was cautioning them to look out for deer darting across the road. "They usually look like they shouldn't be wherever they are."

"Alright." Gareth said, before his brain could come up with a list of questions regarding that.

Steve slung himself into the front seat of his car, Gareth claiming shotgun in Eddie's van shortly thereafter.

They waited to let Steve out first, and then stayed right on his tail as Steve promptly broke multiple laws to get to the lab.

"So this is all ominous as hell, right?" Eddie said, metal music pouring from the vans speakers and eyes on the taillights of the beamer.

"Oh dude, incredibly ominous. There was blood on that candlestick. " Gareth said, still in disbelief.

Whose candlestick had that even belonged to, originally? At what point in all this had Steve decided to hammer nails into a baseball bat?

Nevermind the weapon he was trying not to think about in the trunk of Steve’s car.

The gun.

Gareth knew instinctively why neither of them had gone for it. Eddie's father had drilled into him that the extra charge for carrying was never worth it and Gareth's own father had a firm "if you point it then you might as well have used it" mentality.

Steve didn't look like the kind of person to handle killing someone well himself, and yet the gun remained, locked up in the back of his trunk.

An option he'd offered to both Eddie and Gareth without bothering to fully fill them in.

"Blood on the bat too." Eddie said, dragging Gareth's attention back to the present.

Which at least, gave Gareth an opening for familiar ground. "I'm surprised you noticed that, given you looked like you lost all the blood in your head when he started swinging it around."

"Shut up." Eddie grumped, and though normally Gareth would tease him more, he found he just...couldn't. 

Not right now.

"I'm more worried that they all kept calling whatever the thing was…well. A thing." He said, because God was it bothering him. “I mean I guess it could be an animal still but the way they were talking about it…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

"Personally I'm hoping for monsters." Eddie said.

Gareth turned to shoot him a look. "Seriously Ed’s?"

"Mmm. Because if it's not monsters Gareth, it's humans," Eddie tapped the steering wheel in time with Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. "and humans scare me more than anything."

 Gareth leaned back, letting the seat absorb him, his own eyes sticking to the back of Steve's head. "I guess." 

Not that he wanted to deal with either.

Best case scenario in all this?

Everyone got out safely, and they drilled Steve into what the hell had happened to him, later.

Not that life was ever that simple.

xXx

Tiff met them outside the lab.

The place was desolate. Abandoned with the kind of tell-tale signs that boldly stated something awful had happened there.

Papers and a chair were still left in the guard shack and a phone dangling off the hook completing the look. The lab itself was dotted with broken windows, the corresponding shattered glass glittering all over the ground.

All it was missing was some lightning and it would be a great location for a slasher film.

One set of odd, claw-like marks on the ground later, right near where they all parked, and Gareth abruptly decided he'd rather focus on Tiffany rather than follow that thought more. 

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression annoyed, but the dead giveaway to her freaked out status was the way she couldn't seem to stop moving. Not even after they’d gotten out of their respective cars and started towards her.

Gareth hadn't seen her this bad since the day she temporarily lost her SAT guide.

It didn't bode well for the adventure ahead.

"Finally." She complained as the trio approached. "Did you three stop for milkshakes on the way!?"

"Traffic Tiff, you know how it is." Eddie said with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

She simply gave a pointed look at her watch before glaring back at them.

"Steve!" Someone yelled, and Dustin promptly launched out of some corner at the older teen, babbling a mile a minute.

“Slow down, God!” Steve interrupted, doing a clear head to toe sweep of the kid. “You okay? Everyone good? Nobody dead?”

“Not yet!” Dustin said chipperly, which caused Steve to swat at his hat.

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked Tiff, as Steve and Dustin began talking rapid-fire, in the kind of way that spoke of past events and made little to no sense to anyone not in the loop.

"Yeah." Tiff nodded stiffly. “Would have been a lot happier if Stewart had listened to me for once, but.” She shrugged, her version of ‘it is what it is.’

Eddie reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Is everyone else in the lab?” He asked, peering about.

He got another nod. “The room the idiot’s stuck in is just up the stairs and down the hall a bit. I’m amazed he didn’t get hurt, he fell through the ceiling.” She shook her head, clearly worried and trying her best not to show it. “Everyone’s kind of been wandering between there and here, but the random children who showed up are insisting we all walk around in groups.”

She turned to eye Dustin, before looking towards the entryway to the lab.

“Probably a good thing given the wall collapsed, but they all think there’s some,” She huffed, arms shrugging helplessly. “monster lurking about.”

Gareth stared at the lab entrance for a moment, once again taking in random stains and smears that were all around them. Spotted a few more of those weird, elongated claw marks raking down the stairs, spread more like fingers than anything else, and the group of them that surrounded a suspiciously large stain in the entryway. 

“What made you guys want to explore the lab tonight anyway? It’s Thursday.” Eddie asked. 

This earned him a more animated eye roll.

“Would you believe me if I told you I owed Jeff a favor, and he owed Grant a favor, and Grant got into it with Stewart over whether or not the lab had glowing goo hiding inside?"

“Glowing goo?” Eddie and Gareth echoed as one.

“Like what Mikey the bartender was saying last time he was drunk? The whole thing with that weird green goo that fell out of some truck?” Gareth asked, and it wasn’t the stupidest thing that had riled up Stewart and Grant but by God was it up there.

Tiff sighed a second time, sounding pained. “Yeah. That goo. Stewart kept insisting Mikey got a “hot tip” that some military guys knew it was here,” Her fingers came up to make the quotation marks, somehow managing to make the movement sarcastic. “and wanted it moved over to that new mall they’re building. Starcourt.”

“So Stewart had to come see it.” Eddie finished, as if he wouldn’t have also been dying to go get a look.

Frankly, Gareth himself was slightly annoyed he and Eddie hadn’t been called upon as it were.

“Mikey also apparently believes something else wants the goo and chased the military guys who were here out of the building. That part must be going around, because the kids here are pretty insistent there’s a monster inside.” Tiffany added, waving a hand towards Dustin.

Eddie made a move to slung his arm over her shoulder, giving her a full body squeeze before letting her go.

Tiff allowed it, and for the briefest of seconds, even seemed to lean in.

“Hello Steve, nice murder weapon.” She greeted loudly, entirely unphased by the nail bat in his hands as Hellfire’s jock and his favorite small annoyance stepped up to them. “Having met your children, I have to say, your parenting skills are utter shit.”

Dustin frowned up at her, instantly offended. “Steve’s our friend.” He corrected, angrily emphasizing ‘friend,’ right over the top of Steve’s loud protest of;

“It’s not a murder weapon, jeez!”

“If anyone is lacking in skills it’s your little group’s!” Dustin cut in, waving a hand around. “Not one of you was prepared for breaking into the lab! No weapons, no back up, you’re the only one who even had quarters and one of you isn’t even wearing a jacket. If we hadn’t shown up you guys would have been in some real shit!”

Tiff stared flatly down at Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. “Sure, pipsqueak."

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve asked, before Dustin could fuss more.

“Glowing goo, apparently.” Eddie answered, moving with him.

Tiffany took the hint, starting to walk towards the stairs as Dustin trotted forward next to her, clearly intending to “lead” just as much as she was.

Gareth watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve automatically stepped to Dustin’s right, making sure the kid was surrounded on all sides.

‘Fuckin’ softie.’ He thought fondly, even as he gripped the fire poker he held in his hand tighter.

Eddie had managed to stow the knife away, making it vanish somewhere among his jacket and Judas Priest shirt, so it was just him and Steve looking like lunatics.

Thankfully, Tiff had spared Gareth her opinion on the fire poker. 

“Goo?” Steve asked, and unlike the rest of them, he sounded downright alarmed.

“So there’s this bartender at the Hideout.” Eddie started, launching into the story with a lot more pizzazz than Gareth thought it really required. He and Tiff traded glances, and Gareth got to see the exact moment Dustin’s eyes caught sight of Eddie and went dinner plate wide.

Gareth would have nudged Tiff, maybe made a joke about how Eddie was gaining a new sheep just by his terminal need to be the loudest person in a room, but a movement on the left caught his gaze.

Gareth stopped, as something unmistakably fleshy slunk back in the shadows, one weirdly shaped paw flashing as something caught the light. 

Fear raked through him, freezing Gareth dead to the spot, hands tightening on his fire poker.

“Hey, guys? He asked, interrupting whatever story Eddie had inevitably gone off of (likely one of the many, many backstories involving Mikey the bartender’s belief in UFOs) “That monster the kids think they saw. What uh, what’s it supposed to look like?”

“Why?” Tiff asked, at the same time Eddie yelled at him to; “Keep up, Gary, god!”

Gareth didn’t answer, instead staring deep into the shadows.

Nothing moved.

‘You’re seeing things.’ He told himself finally. ‘Unless it went through solid fucking wall, you would still be able to see it. You're just stressing yourself out because Steve’s being weird.’

Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw something when his anxiety started acting up.

"So Gare, did you bring the fire poker along because of the monster?" Tiff asked, amused, as she briefly dropped back towards him.

Clearly, she'd just been waiting for an opening to tease him about it. 

He flushed scarlet. 

"No!" He spat, hugging the thing closer.

A grin unfurled on Tiff's face, Cheshire-esque.

"I'm serious, Steve told us to bring it!" Gareth insisted, trying to look manly with it.

He knew he failed as badly as Eddie had earlier.

"You know, I'm starting to think Eddie's not the only one gone on our human fighter…" Tiff trailed off, raising one eyebrow, and causing Gareth to flip her off.

Thankfully that train of conversation was interrupted by loud arguing.

“We’re not cats Steve, you can’t just put us outside!” One of the kids was bitching, the group having caught sight of Steve and hustling over.

Jeff was seated on the floor in the hallway, one hand holding up his chin while Grant leaned against the wall next to him, both looking incredibly bored.

Across from them was a door that had looked like it had survived a full-blown seige. Cracks ran throughout the wood, and with the entire center of it bowed inward it was clear why no one could manage to get Stewart out of the room.

It was completely wedged in the frame, with thick enough edges to make it impossible to just pop it out by hand. 

The hoard of gremlins were harder to make out now that they were all clumped together, but Gareth quickly made out their very….unique outfits.

Only the girls had dressed normally, while the boys looking like they either were planning on robbing a train.

Bandana’s over their faces and all.

“Yes, I can actually.” Steve retorted in the exact same bitchy tone. "Tiffany can stay with you guys by the cars while the rest of us figure out how to get Stewart.”

"Thanks for volunteering me." Tiff said flatly, but alas, was ignored by the group at large. 

“Really? So you don’t want El to, you know. Help.” The terminally loud one spat.

“El’s gonna dump your ass if you don’t stop talking for her, Mike.” Steve warned, making the girl puff up proudly while Mike immediately cut a fearful glance to his girlfriend.

“And if El could have helped before, why wait for me to get here?” Steve continued, one hand on his hip, the other resting the nail bat over his shoulder, cutting in before Mike's scrambled apology derailed the conversation.

“I cannot move the door.” El admitted in that sort of flat, blunt way she spoke. “There is something here that is making my powers unstable.”

Steve pointed to her, face morphing into a clear “see?” gesture.

“Now unless Dustin is going to science the door open somehow--and I’m not saying you couldn’t,” Steve spoke the second part quickly, as Dustin’s mouth popped open, “then all of you are going to wait outside. Where the demo-the thing, isn’t.”

Gareth really, really hated how he kept referring to it as a thing.

One of the kids rolled their eyes and muttered; “We literally said we don’t know if it’s a--” and promptly got elbowed in the stomach for it.

Right.

Not suspicious at all.

“But we can help!” Dustin protested furiously.

Gareth wasn't sure if it was because Dustin truly thought he could help, or if it was because he wasn't used to the pushback.

For all that he was an only child, Steve had clearly inherited an older brother's prerogative of letting kids do stupid shit so long as he supervised (and typically, laughed at the outcome.

Gareth still fondly recalled the time Mike declared himself man enough to smoke.

Steve had conned him into chainsmoking outside the arcade until the kid finally threw up in the bushes on his fourth cigarette and declared Steve's smoking habit disgusting.)

“El could help.” Steve countered calmly. “Max probably, if I gave her my bat, but the rest of you are just moving targets. So make like a drum, and beat it.”

"That was lame, Steve." Dustin sniffed, while the other kids groaned loudly. “A real low effort pun.”

Steve just flicked his hand out in a shoo motion before leaning his bat up against the wall.

Jeff stared it before making immediate eye contact with Gareth, every inch of him screaming ‘what the hell!’

With a sigh, and an unfortunate side glance at Tiff, Gareth explained; “It’s for the monster.”

That at least, was easier than explaining Steve knew what was here and was doing his damndest not to tell them what it was.

Even if it made Tiff grin manically in his direction. 

His only relief was that Steve got her attention right after, calling "Heads up!" before tossing her his car keys. 

Because her hand eye coordination was superior to Eddie’s, she caught them easily.

If there's an emergency, get them out." Steve warned, voice just over the edge of too serious, losing the banter he’d kept up since they’d arrived.

"If there's an emergency we're coming back on to save your ass." Dustin snapped back, arms crossed, because of course he was listening.

“No.” Steve told him simply.

“Yes.”

“No, no, no-!”

Tiff let out a sharp whistle, the sound piercing in the echoing hallway.

"Gremlins with me!" She commanded, before catching Steve's eyes over their heads . "You fucking owe me, Harrington."

He nodded, before dropping a glare to the kids. "Just don't let them drive my car."

“God I can’t believe he’s still upset about that, it’s not like we fucked up the Camaro.” Mike complained loudly, allowing himself to be herded back outdoors.

“Max did hit a mailbox.” Lucas retorted, and then yelped a loud; “Ow, Max!” as he was presumably punished for voicing the fact out loud.

Their voices faded slightly as they went down the stairs, and Gareth managed to drag his attention back to the problem at hand.

One very fucked up door.

"Do you think we could kick it down?” Steve asked, as Eddie bent down to examine the door.

Refusing to look anyone in the face, Jeff said; “We may have tried that already.” 

“My darling lambs, you’re approaching this wrong.” Eddie cooed, and got several glares for it.

“The door might be fucked by the hinges here, are not. Looks like all I need is the right screwdriver and lucky for Stewart!--” He yelled his friend's name, banging on the door and no doubt hoping to spook him.

A muffled shout of “Screw you Munson!” was all he got for his efforts.

 “--I have my toolbox in my car.”

“Do I want to know what you have a toolbox for, Ed's?” Steve asked.

“Perfectly legal avenues only, I assure you.” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes up at Steve innocently.

Grant and Jeff both gagged.

“Would the two of you gentlemen be so kind as to fetch me my box?” Eddie said, pulling out his keys and offering them up to Jeff. “I want to try one more thing. I don’t think it’ll work, but I can test it while you boys are gone.”

“He’s going to try to kick it in himself.” Gareth tattled flatly.

“I am not!” Eddie immediately denied, eyes wide in feigned hurt.

It was fake as shit.

“Let him!” Jeff said over as he got up. “That way I won’t be the only one getting made fun of for doing it!”

A car suddenly honked from outside, startling them all.

“Check that the shitheads aren’t murdering Tiff while you’re out there!” Steve called as Jeff and Grant took off towards the entrance, before moving out of Eddie’s way as he surged upwards.

“It’s more likely she’d be murdering them.” Eddie replied, and sure enough he was backing up like he was going to try and kick the door.

“Do you see how thick that thing is? The indent, here?” Steve sassed, pointing towards the giant dent slightly off center, where the door bowed inwards. “I’m pretty sure Jeff wasn’t the one who did that. These things are built to hold, man.”

“Ah but you’ve seen Jeffery's legs. Our beloved new cleric should stick to punching things, he’s not made for kicking.” Eddie said, tongue peaking out of his mouth as he sized up the door.

An odd, low chittering caught Gareth’s attention, the noise like nails on a chalkboard as the older teens continued to argue. 

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve asked point blank, hip cocked and bitch mode on. “You aren’t either.”

“Don’t be mean, Steven, just because I don’t have jock muscles--”

The chittering got louder, and Gareth found himself taking a few steps away from his friends, in the opposite direction of the stairs as he tried to figure out where the fuck it was coming from. 

A light at the farthest end of the long hallway gave out, barely noticeable. unless one was looking for it. Gareth hadn't even internalized the hallway had lighting, he'd been too busying with everything else--but it did. 

Likely the place had a backup generator, but that didn't explain why the lights in this hallway were on--and now, suddenly, giving out. 

'Maybe the kids did it...?' He thought, still trying to figure out why the chittering sounded like it was getting closer. 

“You’re going to break your leg.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to believe in people more Stevie? Have some faith?”

“I have faith that you’re face is about to hit the floor, does that count?”

Another light failed, giving the appearance of the hallway warping. Not all of it, just one weird wall, that seemed to stretch like something was trying to break out. 

"Okay but if I kick the door and it busts in, you owe me ten bucks."

"If you kick the door down not only will I give you ten bucks, Eddie, I'll go see that stupid new movie you won't shut up about with you." 

"Oh we'll be seeing Fright Night with or without my door busting talents--" 

Another light, out, and now Gareth could see a shape taking form. Later he'd swear it had actually, crawled out from the wall.

(Later, he'd find out the Upside Down creatures had a habit of doing that.)

He thought it was a tiger at first.

It has the same overall shape--long body with muscular shoulders, head low as it prowled forward.

Except the tail curled up over its back, hanging like a scorpion’s and its face…

It took a second for Gareth to make sense of what he was seeing.

The huge, oddly shaped bulb, like a flower’s before it unfurled.

Thick liquid drooled out from red tinged edges, dripping onto the floor. It was too far away to hear, but Gareth imagined the little plinks of noise it made anyway.

"Guys." He said, voice pitched impossibly high.

The Not-Tiger stepped further into the light, revealing it to be hairless.

Its skin was flecked red and grotesquely gray, with odd, thick folds of flesh hanging off its sides. Those pieces moved in weird little jerks and flutters, almost like another appendage entirely.

Another step forward, the weird, folded pieces of skin moving out and out and out on either side of it, hitching up in a U shape and oh, God.

They were wings.

'Lion body, scorpion tail, dragon wings.' A far off part of Gareth identified. 'It's missing the human face, but otherwise that's pretty dead on for a--"

"Manticore!" Gareth screamed, right as the things head split open into five petals filled with rows of fangs.

It screamed right back, then lunged at him, claws and teeth and tail all extending to attack.

[iamthecomet]

-peeks inside-

RainDrop with 10 or 13, please~

-dips back out-

From this list. How about desperate and discreet?

Midnight Mass drags on. Dew can feel the days exhaustion in his bones. The smell of incense from Papa’s thurible, swinging from gloved fingers, catches in his nose, burns his eyes. It’s keeping him awake at least, that and the even pressure Rain is applying to the palm of his hand. His thumb digging into the meat of his hand, pressing in a firm line from the bottom of his palm to the base of his middle finger. A constant reminder that he’s right there.

It’s been days since Dew and Rain have spent any real time together. Busy after coming home months on the road. Days spent unpacking, cleaning and restringing instruments, shining boots, finding time to be alone for the first time in months. 

Dew can feel himself leaning into Rain’s touch, toward it. Head tipping closer to Rain’s shoulder. Rain digs the toe of his boot into the arch of Dew’s foot. Dew straightens. He fixes Rain with a glare no one can see because of the masks. 

Rain’s thumb never stops.

When Papa asks for a volunteer to get wine for the offering from the back of the chapel, Rain is the first to stand, pulling Dew up with him. He steps out into the aisle, finally releasing Dew’s hand as he does, not giving Papa time to confirm or deny. 

Dew follows, trying to keep his strides even, back straight as they slip into a dark corner of the chapel where the offering plates and communion wine is kept. 

Dew reaches for a cask, Rain curls his fingers around Dew’s wrist just as his fingers brush it. He pulls Dew closer, deeper into this dark corner. 

“Rain–” Dew whispers, as Rain reaches up and tucks his fingers into Dew’s balaclava, dragging it down just enough. 

“Shh,” Rain brushes his fingers over Dew’s jaw, the barest bit of skin he can find, and drags his own balaclava down. Then Rain’s bending down, lips molding over Dew’s. Dew stands on his toes to meet the water cool. Lips sliding over each other. Dew could groan with it if there weren’t siblings fifteen feet away. 

Rain parts his lips, and Dew answers by slipping his tongue through the gap to press against Rain’s. To taste him for the first time in what feels like weeks. Between all the traveling and all the settling back in. Dew’s hands come up to grip at Rain’s jacket, to try to pull him closer. Like he wants to pull himself into Rain’s body with him. 

Their parting is reluctant. Lips just barely touching, breath mingling. 

“The wine,” Rain reminds him. 

Dew wants to say fuck the wine. Wants to pull Rain out of her right now. Fuck the offering, fuck Mass. But Rain’s the one who pulls back. Fingers still gentle against Dew’s jaw where he cradles him. Dew uncurls his fingers from Rain’s jacket, settles back down onto his feet. 

“After?” Dew asks, hand finally finding the cask of wine. 

Rain pulls Dew’s balaclava back up, gentle. He bends and presses a chast kiss to the fabric just over Dew’s lips. 

“After,” he promises.

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

SoapGhost angst, MW3 SPOILER

Inspired by a reddit story 💀 sorry

Soap and Ghost retired about 6 years ago, after that bloody mission which left Soap with only one working eye.

They have been living together in a small cottage in Scotland close to a farm that Soap's parents own. Johnny's father once told Ghost that one day it will all belong to them and it would be a lie if Ghost said that he didn't already dreamt about growing old with Johnny on that farm. A black cat on his lap as they sit together on the porch.

But let's not wander into the future when present was never better.

They got married not long after retiring, everybody showed up on their very small ceremony. Ghost loved it.

Price lead him to the altar where Johnny stood, Gaz next to him being the best man they could ever ask for. Ghost can recall every detail about this day.

They were living a happy and calm life, meeting up with friends from time to time.

Until one morning.

He woke up one morning with his head on Johnny's chest and as he raised his head he glanced at their bedside lamp. It was... different, but just for a split second. It looked wrong.

And as time flew by more things were starting to look off, stretched, like they were forced into a different perspective.

One day. The worst day of Ghost's life- it was Johnny who looked wrong. His face was horrifyingly morphed.

He wanted to scream, but no sound left his mouth.

Instead he heard a familiar voice shouting.

"Ghost! Shit- Captain! Ghost is down!"

Gaz was shouting as his vision went to black. When he opened his eyes he was in pain, cold and oh so confused. Price and Gaz were crouching beside him, Price radioing for med-evac.

"Where is Johnny?" Was the only thing Ghost could ask. Where were he? Why is he here? Where is their bedroom and home?

"Ghost... We said our goodbyes to him months ago." Whispered Gaz, his voice cracking.

No.

No, no, no.

It couldn't be the truth.

Johnny was with him just a second ago, they were married.

Ghost lived that.

Ghost lived his dream.

Sorry.

[dipplinduo]

Sweet and Sour Dipplins

Imagine if Kieran dreams of a precious and adorable family with Juliana... only for Pecharunt to use chains to snatch them into the unknown darkness.

...ANON.

The sound I made was INHUMANE

[thiefguard]

your bruising headcanons were excellent

may i humbly request smutty headcanons too 🥺

Hi anon, thank you so much! I had a lot of fun writing them :3

Ofc you can request smutty hcs!!!

AU where Lamp was born from a mining-based economy :)

Queen

The Kingdom was built on its mines, literally and figuratively. Everyone knows of the wonders that lie beneath. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires beyond compare. As a child, (the small and future) Queen learns the smooth, cool touch of her mother’s opals long before she learns of the labour that bore them. Her teenage years are a string of suitors, each offering ever more splendid prizes. Aquamarines, from the riverland depositories. Jade from the sea-shelf, tourmaline from the mountains.

All would win her favour with jewels. None would tell her the truth of their harvest.

But the Queen has eyes, and in time she has power. Sense to see the back-breaking labour, sanity to put an end to it. She tours the shafts. Trails her fingertips along the walls until they come away black with smut. She meets the workers, listens to their stories, hears their coughs as dust rattles through their lungs.

The mines are shuttered. Past centuries bought forth enough jewels to last lifetimes. Let her people emerge from the dark and breathe in the light. Let their gemstones fill museums, not vaults. Let them trade, and smith, and work the stones for pleasure, not survival.

She styles herself to set a precedent. The court’s halls are hung with portraits of Ancestors who could hardly stand beneath the weight of their ceremonial jewels. For herself, she selects a single, simple piece. A pendant with a malachite stone, that reminds her of her mother’s eyes.

“Beautiful,” a husky voice murmurs one morn. Bold fingers brush the pendant, and the Queen gazes up into unfamiliar eyes. ‘Beautiful’, the word echoes in her mind, then ‘yes, oh yes you are.’

Priestess

Tess can barely remember a time before the Sound. Logically - when her mind is settled enough for reason - she knows it wasn’t always there. She wasn’t born with the ringing in her ears. Didn’t grow with the reverberation of it pulsing through her her veins. Didn’t stumble into adulthood with the deafening urgency pulling her towards it, every moment of every day.

So. There must have been a beginning, but that moment is as lost to the surface as she is.

It was a relief, the first time she realised that the sound grew louder in proximity to the mine shafts. Because if it has a source, then there must be a Reason, and if she can understand the reason, then perhaps the ceaseless, endless, terrible noise might finally abate.

She packs little for her journey. Perhaps part of her senses that supplies will be of little use below the surface. Perhaps part of her knows that she won’t be coming back.

She hesitates, just for a moment, on the precipice. One foot inside, palm coated with soot as she presses it to the stone wall and feels the sound echoing from below.

All she truly knows is that every step, every turn, every descent, takes her closer to the source of the Sound, and she cannot, will not, must not rest until she finds it.

Guard

He refuses to be bested by a common jewel thief.

The mines are perilous, have been shuttered for centuries, but the allure of the gems within remains.

Guard has worked many roles within the Citadel. He began as a boy, guarding stalls in the central market. From there, he graduated to the docks, proved himself protecting the fisherfolk and their catch. His time at the Temple was a promotion in name, but he found that he missed the sea breeze, the creak of wood, the lap of waves. Patrolling the corridors, he learned not to ask questions, not to look anyone directly in the eye. And then… the Incident, and now – the mines.

The role is a punishment, he knows that. A lesson in guarding his tongue more than guarding the deep, cavernous passages. Only madmen would attempt to break and enter here. Madmen – and a jewel thief.

For weeks he catches only the faintest glimpses. A shadow on the wall. The twitch of a cloak. A flash of blonde at the end of a corridor, gone in a blink. He might even doubt himself, if she didn’t want him to know she was there.

At first it’s just snatches of laughter, ringing out from the end of a corridor.

As he comes to learn her favoured routes, he finds symbols crudely hewn into the stone. Trailmarkers, obviously intended to throw him off the scent. This arrow leads to a channel so narrow as to be impassable, that one to a gap only a child could squeeze through.

She’s taunting him, teasing him, and the longer it lasts, the more determined he becomes to catch her.

He sets traps, lies in wait. Follows the routes she’s prone to taking, maps the antechambers he thinks she’s searching for. Here, where the last trove of diamonds was mined. Or there, where emeralds were as plentiful as pebbles.

Once, he follows her so deep for so long that he turns around on himself. Looks up to find the paths unfamiliar, no sign of his markers to guide him. An hour passes, then another. He tries first this fork in the path, then a tunnel that leads towards a distant hum. The longer he walks, the darker it becomes. He feels the first lick of fear long before his lamp dies. He sits, then. Feels the cold of the walls seep into his skin as he tries in vain to recall his steps.

Just as panic is beginning to set in truly, a flicker of light.

A full passage away, but closer than he’s ever seen her. Blonde, yes, and smaller than he’d thought, but the dim candlelight casts a shadow that rises to the ceiling – that almost touches him as she crooks a beckoning finger.

Her cheeks are grimed with soot and her grin is all at his expense, but for a moment’s blessed relief, Guard allows himself to be bested by the jewel thief and guided back to daylight.

Teller

Teller grew up on stories of the mines, but has never set foot in one until Jul disappears.

Oh, it’s not so dramatic as all that. No sudden Vanishing, here one moment and gone the next. When she’s deep on an exploration, he can go weeks without seeing her – months, if he should travel while she’s underground.

But as summer ebbs into autumn without a glimpse, the browning of the leaves brings a sense of… unease.

It’s silly, he knows, to think that he could stroll straight out of the Temple, shimmy down the nearest shaft and find her in an afternoon. But still. He can try.

He doesn’t go unprepared. Magister would give him men, he knows, and all the supplies he could need. But first he would need to Ask, and then he would need to Explain, and neither of those are conducive to actually Doing. And so, just this once, he takes a leaf out of Jul’s book and Takes.

The map book Magister keeps in his quarters is beautifully illustrated. Teller has watched him pore over it for hours, always cleansing his hands reverently before turning its pages. The whole Citadel is here – its streets and tunnels, above ground and below. The mines will have changed shape over the centuries, he knows, altered by cave-ins and erosions and neglect. But he has a start.

The map helps for far longer than he might have expected. It charts a true course, leads him through narrow, winding tunnels that must surely pass well beyond the boundaries of the Citadel.

His guilt grows as his coal-black fingers incriminate themselves upon the pristine pages. And so he looks, learns, and stows it away. He's sure that he remains on course, certain that his recollection is true, even as he enters an unmarked ante-chamber. A vaulted ceiling that has no right to be here. A shaft of light, impossible at these depths. And a distant sound that might be running water, but sounds like no stream Teller has ever crossed.

Most curiously, most temptingly, most bafflingly of all… at the center of the room, a pedestal. Hewn from marble of a shining cream, topped by a plush red pillow of the softest silk. And there, in the center... incongruous, illogical, but oh so very real... a pristine brass oil lamp, just begging to be touched.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Lamp

It was one in the morning, and Sherlock could not sleep.

He decided to get his laptop on the bed to check for some new cases on his website.

John was sleeping beside him. Unbelievable. Like a dream. But true.

They had been together in a relationship for a year now, and yet, Sherlock still felt this way from time to time.

He settled down on his side of the bed and opened his laptop.

The bright light in the otherwise dark room hit the pupils of his eyes, and he winced a little for a moment.

John would always tell him to switch on the bedside lamp for balance so that Sherlock wouldn't end up with bad eyesight.

So, Sherlock stretched out his arm to switch on the lamp on his side.

Yes, this was better. He could see more clearly now.

He opened his website and began to read one of his old articles.

Within a minute, though, he became acutely aware of John lying by his side, sharing a duvet with him.

Sherlock turned to look at John's face, which was glowing because of the golden light from the lamp.

Once again, Sherlock couldn't help but marvel at John's face.

John's beautiful ash-blond hair; the forehead which was marked with frown lines. The golden lashes resting on his cheeks - gorgeous.

That mouth which Sherlock had been pining for ages, of which the corners had softened because of John's dormant state.

The cleft in his chin Sherlock secretly loved but never told him about.

Unable to believe his luck, the corners of Sherlock's mouth lifted and Sherlock was half-smiling.

He reached out to run his hands through John's soft and dense hair.

Now he wished John's eyes were open, so he could drown in those ocean-blue eyes. He would have to wait till the morning.

Suddenly, John reached out for Sherlock's hand - which was running through John's hair - and interlocked their fingers before smiling with his eyes closed.

The smile that was always capable of making Sherlock's heart flutter.

John opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock with the same smile.

"Can't sleep?"

"Not with your soul-gazing stare," John replied with a short laugh. He continued to hold Sherlock's gaze with those mesmerizing eyes.

Sherlock's grin widened across his face as he closed his laptop to keep it on the side table, and lay down on his left to face John.

John was mirroring Sherlock's expression.

Sherlock closed the distance between them to kiss John on the mouth, who kissed him back, and it was an unexplainable bliss for Sherlock once again.

They wrapped their arms around each other to continue with the kissing to their heart's content.

John's presence in his bed, in his life, made everything exponentially better. Sleep included.

***

Sherlock September Challenge

Prompt Lamp by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @lookingforlifeoutthere @missdeliadili @calaisreno @kettykika78 @curlyjohnlock.

[scaly-freaks]

[murderoushagthesequel]

happy new years!

thank you to each and every one of you for making this year special :) i know this account has died down quite a lot over the past few months but i honestly treasure every moment it's brought me

i've met so many amazing people, some of the best friends i've ever had and the love of my life, i've grown as a person and become more comfortable in my art and my writing, and i've been able to connect with myself better

this is not me saying goodbye by any means i'm just reflecting and so grateful for the impact tumblr has had on my 2023

reading and writing fanfiction, making fanart, engaging in the tumblr marauders fandom, and branching out improved my year and helped me through some really tough times so thank you :)

thank you for helping me make this a year i've enjoyed looking back on

i love you all!!

see you soon,

hag <3

a few people who (knowingly or not) made my year: @where-is-vivian @effiepotterisamilf @malakiwis @definitelynotttheo @not-rab @lostforgottenspaces @risetherivermoon @mo0n-water @calamitoustide @withtheoldstars @idkkkjustgay @vini213 @aroacelilyevans @artbyace @olivers-cocoapuffs @apricusapollo @floralembarrassment @ye-olde-trojan-horse @bellathethirstybitch @greenvlvetcouch @nothing-like-a-mad-woman @itsm3m00n @underburningstars @casstration @oesker @deadly-moonlit-embarrassment

[the-ace-with-spades]

This is actually a bit of a spoiler for like a monkey pilot but I just really find the idea cute so I'm sharing it now to bust my mood...

When Jake and Bradley were together the first time, Jake called Bradley baby or, if teasing, sweetheart and Bradley called Jake honey.

After they meet again at Top Gun, Jake quickly realizes that Maverick calls Bradley baby, too, because he's always going to be Mav's baby boy. Which is cute but also makes Jake feel really weird about calling Bradley baby again.

And he's thinking what he can call Bradley while they're lying in bed and Bradley is like a giant teddy bear, with very huggable arms and cuddling anything within his reach in his sleep. Hence Bradley Bear.

And he swears he didn't do it on purpose but the squad does tease them about them being the 'bear and his honey'.

[thelampisaflashlight]

"What's stopping you?" he asks, sparing me a glance before returning his gaze back down to his phone.

"Fear, I guess." I say, leaning against the low counter, feeling my ribs press into the fiberboard, "I know I can drive. I do okay for the most part, but I hate it. I hate driving."

"I like it." he hums, sitting upright, his phone abandoned on his thigh, "It lets me go anywhere I want, whenever I want."

"I'd rather be in the passenger's seat myself."

"If you can drive, why not just get your license and be done with it?" he questions, "Then people can't hound you about it anymore."

I push away from the counter and fiddle with the card display beside me for a moment before I reply.

"Any time I've accomplished some long term goal, or done, well, anything, people ask me what my plan is. What I'm going to do next." I explain, nudging a stray envelope back into place, "When I started working here, my family was already asking me about my exit plan. Despite all the pressure to get a job, the immediate response to me getting this one was to tell me I needed to plot out my escape route... Truth be told, nothing I have ever done has been treated as 'good enough', it's always just a stepping stone towards some greater goal that others have put in place for me."

"For example, when I was a kid and showed an affinity towards art, the immediate response was that I should focus solely on becoming good at it so I could turn it into a career... despite my protests that it was a hobby, something I did to relax, money and success came first to my family."

"So you don't drive... because your family would start pushing you further? To do what?" he asks, giving me a confused expression.

"I guess it doesn't make a whole lot of sense." I laugh, "I think I just want to keep their expectations low enough that they focus on that instead of everything else I'm doing."

"You're a bit of an odd duck, you know that?" he huffs, smiling softly, "You have a bike right?"

"Yes?"

"There's your loophole."

I snort.

"And if it's raining?"

"I have room in the passenger's seat in my car." he replies, returning to browsing on his phone.

"I'll keep that in mind."

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

Ooh the curse is even similar in nature! A future curse that they carry with them until a certain point in time, at which point DEATH. 

Also that sleeping beauty parallel comes storming right back in with a vengeance here. Evil Wolverine is Maleficent riding in on Sakura’s birthday to curse her with a future death once she hits her late teens. 

(And then the eventual softening of the curse, where instead of dying she falls asleep instead)

OH AND ALSO the little wings that grew on people in xxxHolic? Until it gathered enough of their soul and just flew away with it, giving Evil Wolverine what he wanted and leaving them empty behind? The same thing here with Sakura, but more advanced!

Though can I just say that it’s very lucky that Evil Wolverine fucking LOVES to explain himself at every given opportunity? We know he has no friends, and so this is really the only time he gets to actually talk to anyone, but WOW he really will just take the chance to do an evil little speech EVERY time.