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sp0o0kylights · 8 months

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You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;

Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once.

Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.

She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.

(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around.

Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.

She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.)

Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis.

Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is.

He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters.

Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean.

He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.

He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.

Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks.

He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment.

He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.

(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat.

He's young and horny, sue him.)

Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb.

He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in.

( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?

They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.

Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it.

Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.)

Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.

In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually.

It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.

Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day.

(Or he tried too, anyways.

It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.

Babysit.

Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.

Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.

It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual;

"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."

--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too.

At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.

The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.)

#this started as thought and ended as a mini fic #filing this under shit I'm not expanding on #steddie #platonic stobin #its the “Eddie and Robin drag Steve to a Gay Bar” trope but with a twist #the twist is that Steve skipped his gay crisis entirely #and also that basketball team is not straight #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #I just want to re-invoke that pre internet feeling of "No one has an easy way to google whether or not their friend is right #so it comes down to who sounds right LOL #or whose known for what

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grimesgirll · 2 months

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you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

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thegroovywitch · 1 year

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Ginger Gilmour

#ginger gilmour #david gilmour #pink floyd #roger waters #rick wright #syd barrett #nick mason #60s muse #groupies #classic rock #classic rock fandom #prog rock #60s beauty #hippie #icons #by dee dee 🌺🕯️

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shelovesmyheartshapedsunglasses · 10 months

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🩷 ✨ aphrodite cabin headcanons 🪩 💌

aphrodite cabin headcanons bc the way rick wrote them was fucked up. let them be silly and hyperfemme and girlypop i am begging you.

they have a billion playlists for different occasions (getting ready in the morning, arts and crafts, capture the flag, etc.) that they share with the apollo cabin.

to clarify, they are not allowed to use the capture the flag playlist anymore because they are permanently banned from playing after a hermes kid almost lost an arm.

the clothes in the camp store are ugly as hell so they convinced chiron to let them set up racks of clothes they don’t wear or just bought specifically for the store, of course with low prices because everyone should be able to look hot. there are crop tops, bandeau tops, all different length skirts, rompers, and even cute shoes. the aesthetics range from y2k to hippie to coquette to fairy grunge to mermaidcore to goth, with sizes ranging from 3XS to 5XL.

they have huge storage units of makeup and hair stuff that they gladly lend out to other campers. they even have dye and bleach from arctic fox and salon-grade brands. don’t worry about how they got it.

they regularly have movie nights using a projector with blankets, popcorn, and cuddle piles. their favorites to watch are mean girls, legally blonde, clueless, jennifer’s body (a halloween tradition), enchanted, the house bunny, but i’m a cheerleader, tangled, mama mia, the sisterhood of the traveling pants, and all three high school musicals (they know all the songs by heart, ofc).

the whole “nico was the first person who ever came out at camp” thing is literally the dumbest thing i’ve ever read, so that’s just not true and the aphrodite cabin has organized every pride event at camp for years now. no one knows how they do it or where they get all that glitter, and no one is brave enough to ask.

you need love advice? you’re questioning your sexuality and need to talk to someone about it? you need a girltalk session and some hypewomen? you need to make sure the harpies don’t get you when you and your partner sneak out to a secluded spot on the beach? they got u, babes, don’t even worry about it.

they all have perfumes and colognes customized to their signature scents.

their support for the trans community could rival the dionysus cabin. also they worship dylan mulvaney like the goddess she is because i worship her like the goddess she is, and i make the rules.

no one has better halloween costumes than then. no one. if you look as good as them, it’s because you borrowed supplies from them.

insanely good matchmakers.

when one of them is sad, they all stop everything they’re doing until their sibling feels better. that means skincare, hair-braiding trains, manicures while watching barbie movies, and those frosted sugar cookies. no, they will not, under any circumstances, participate in camp activities until they’re sure their sibling is okay.

their favorite show is sex education. when they watch it, they send the younger campers into the big house with a hephaestus-cabin-engineered ipad to watch monster high and ever after high until they’re done. dionysus does not approve of having to babysit, but after he went to chew out the rest of the cabin and found them in tears with mascara trails because they got to season 2, he stopped interfering.

drew and will got the two cabins together to bribe and beg chiron for eras tour tickets. it did not work (much to nico’s delight, who would’ve been persuaded into going by his boyfriend). in retaliation, they put pink hair dye in his shampoo, and the apollo cabin cursed him to randomly sing what he says with no warning. dionysus has never been so entertained.

they have no tolerance for pick-me girls or slut-shaming.

piper apologized to drew once she matured and started dating shel.

they all have phones that they hide from everyone else, complete with protection spells from the hecate cabin. they all have a family group chat and facetime basically every day when summer ends. shel and valentina are best friends now.

being the only boy, mitchell used to get bullied a lot by insecure middle school ares boys. that is, until his sisters caught wind and gave them hell. now, no one messes with mitchell, and especially not with his sisters.

they absolutely lose their shit when they realize some of the younger campers are too young to know one direction.

they’re closer to the apollo kids (and nico) than any other cabin.

they have a bookshelf full of nothing but romance. red, white, and royal blue, the falling on love montage, pride and prejudice, cemetery boys, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, like a love story, heartstopper, the list goes on and on (no colleen hoover, though, yuck).

their acrylics and press-ons are deadly.

they have bunk beds, but more often than not you’ll find them sharing beds like they’re at a sleepover.

the cabin is extremely maximalist, with little disco balls, pink and lavender everywhere, fake flowers, and full-length mirrors because no, they’re not sharing.

because their mom is the goddess of love, they all identify as either bi, pan, queer, or don’t use labels. they just love love.

they all have matching “free britney” crop tops.

#percy jackson #drew tanaka #piper mclean #silena beauregard #aphrodite #aphrodite cabin #rick riordan #riordanverse #percy jackson headcanon

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fantasticallyfruity4 · 1 year

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What if after the whole “the town thinks I killed my friend and went on a serial rampage” thing Eddie is fucking FREAKED.

And he decides this is it I’m gonna walk the straight and narrow I’m gonna be better I’m gonna be a model fucking citizen. No more selling, no more doing even.

And it really shocks the shit out of everyone how cold Turkey eddie is able to get off the shit and give Rick his inventory back (“take it man don’t even pay me back I want this off my hands for good”) but he’s just had the most intense horrifying beyond scared straight experience ever.

And he’s kinda struck like shit, I don’t know where to go from here. The town still hates me, I have 0 marketable real world skills, I don’t actually know how to be a person.

And Steve, every the beautiful and daft, in the middle of one of Eddie’s freak outs suggests “why don’t you just like, ask hopper how to get your life together? He’s like the chief authority on getting your life back in order. And you know, he’s a cop, so”

And half of Eddie wants strange Steve because that’s so stupid Hoppers a cop he’s horrified of those things.

But on the other hand… that beautiful man is right.

So he goes by the station during business hours (“hopper might as well be on the clock to deal with my shit”) to do just that. To ask hopper what the fuck he’s supposed to do now. With his life, with his new need for a job, anything.

And hopper is like “well, I could use a new secretary”.

And Eddie looks at him like he has 6 heads.

“Listen kid, it’s not a bad job. You file paper work, you man the phones, sometimes you run some stupid errands. You get good pay, you can get a real place for you and that uncle of yours, type of pay. You’ll have pretty decent insurance because you’ll be a state employee. Trust me kid it’s a good deal. You’re not fucking qualified but… listen, I know what you and Steve are and I love that boy like my own so, consider this some father in law nepotism. There’s no better way to look clean than working for the cops right?”

And Eddie feels like he should say no but… he really can’t.

Hopper starts training him that afternoon. He’s gotta get real people clothes, hopper hands him a $50 to get some slacks and shirts at the mall, and begs him to Atleast put the hair in a pony tail or something.

Eddie comes in the next day looking like a kid who borrowed his fathers suit for a funeral, it fits but he’s awkward and he’s got a fucking manbun that almost gave Steve a heart attack that morning.

His uncle said he was proud of him with a little sniffle and Eddie had to bolt out of the trailer before he started sobbing.

He looks every bit the functioning professional law abiding citizen, if a bit of a hippie with that hair.

He got his life in order: he’s got a real future he didn’t think he’d ever have.

I just think it’s nice.

#steddie #Eddie munson #jim hopper #this is fueled by my horrible anxiety #writing this made me a little better tbh

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