#devondespresso

Hello hello!

This one goes back in time a bit from where the series is at present, and it throws the numbering off, so I've given up. It's about halfway done, I think?

“Maybe you pissed him off,” Gareth suggests, and now it’s Eddie’s turn to scoff. “Gary,” he drawls, just to watch the irritation flash across Gareth’s face, “trust me, if Steve were pissed off, we’d all know about it. It wouldn’t even be a question.” This much is true; Steve has never been shy about letting other people know when something has annoyed him, usually in the form of amusingly dry remarks (but occasionally in the form of energetic little rants that Eddie adores watching). Eddie is fairly confident that if he’d done something to upset Steve, he’d know it. At least ninety-five percent confident. Maybe ninety. Ish. He returns to the matter of the lack of a goodbye “kiss.” “But fine. Let’s just say, for the sake of argument,” Eddie says, turning back to Gareth, “that I pissed him off. How, pray tell?” Gareth gives an uncomfortable sort of shrug. “I don’t know, I just – like, wasn’t he Homecoming King or whatever last fall?” “Yeah,” Eddie says, waving his hand in a sort of ‘go on’ gesture. “And?” “And, I dunno!” Gareth tosses his hands up. “I just mean that he’s the sort of person who goes to school dances, and he probably likes them, and you’ve been sitting here all week calling people who like school dances morons and shit. That’s all I’m saying.”

How could I say no???

First and Second and Third and Fourth and Fifth parts that are right before this one:

yes i totally am! everybody wanted so much starbara lol so I'm happy to share a little bit of some tweaked RaSEPSM lines.

Another snippet for Devi 💖 Until an hour ago my June Writing doc had three sentences in it 😅

Also, this is how bad my brain is. I start researching details for a fic and then get brainworms for something else. I went from looking for the price of a La-Z-Boy in 1985 to obsessing over the idea of the Harrington's getting a jacuzzi/hot tub.

“Your parents installed a jacuzzi?” “Yes!” Steve practically shrieks, his voice echoing through the store. Thank god Family Video is empty. Eddie pouts, his dimples indenting his cheeks as he runs a ring-adorned finger over the advertisement and circles the rounded edges of the jacuzzi. He then moves to trace the hairline of the handsome male figure in the picture, who has his arm around a pretty blonde and nursing a cocktail with his free hand. Steve rolls his eyes at the thought that such a fake and stupid picture could entice his parents into purchasing another outdoor accessory they will probably never use.

THANK YOU DEV!!! its been soooo fun i saw so many bugs at the bug museum. look at these LEAFCUTTER ANTS!!!!!! AND THEIR FUNGUS!!! the woman who ran it opened the enclosure so i could look really close at them. they were so fucking cool

I said it on the post but i have to thank you again here cuz i LOVED THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!!

I tagged you but I'll put the link for it HERE as well!!!

Thank you so much again!!!!

Okay, this one I actually don't have any text down for. I made a post about Steve having OCD last year and I really like the concept, and I want to turn it into more of a fic than a "guys, imagine with me" post

If I were to develop it more, Eddie would probably be a great way to explore the topic. Shipping reasons aside, he's the one coming in late, viewing Steve and his compulsions with fresh eyes. Everyone else has gotten used to Steve's "quirks" and they don't really think twice about them; in some cases, they've even learned to accommodate them.

They don't question why Steve needs to do things in a certain order, why he needs objects around the house to be in certain places, why he needs to tap the roof of the car three times before he gets in, they just know that he does. That's just Steve

And Eddie - well, look, he's not questioning it, exactly. Like, he's not one to cast aspersions on anyone else's coping mechanisms, it's just that he worries that these particular coping mechanisms aren't actually helping

Sure, on a good day, Steve gets to do everything in exactly the right order, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be, he gets to complete his routines and everyone is safe and he's happy. But when something gets interrupted--as it often does, because that's life--Steve tends to look like he's one shirt caught on the doorknob away from a complete meltdown

It's a delicate balance, and Eddie's starting to wonder if maybe he's the only one noticing that Steve could easily tip over the side

Hello! (Again!)

This one is the aftermath of Starcourt. I considered delving into Steve's thoughts during, but I decided to just skip right to hurt/comfort of after, because it's my fic and I'll make the characters cry if I want to

What the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. This– this can’t be right. Eddie can’t have come to the right conclusion. He can’t. There must be some other reason why Steve’s wrists are scraped and bruised, why he’s got marks on his arms like someone grabbed him hard, why he’s got some very fucking specifically directed injuries. Because if Eddie is right, then that means that someone did this to Steve. Someone tied him up and then they – and then they what? And fucking why? Eddie is so busy reeling that he misses the first hitch in Steve’s breath. For a second, he’s just staring, taking in the bruising around Steve’s eyes, and he nearly misses the way the tears begin to build in them. He does not miss it when Steve’s face crumples and he starts sobbing. That’s– that’s pretty hard to miss. “Oh, shit.” Eddie freezes, Steve’s jaw still cradled in his hands, possibly the only thing keeping Steve from curling in on himself from the force of the sobs racking through his chest. “Oh, shit. Okay. Okay. Shit.”