#Ashe is kinda scared but in awe too

[dinasfavslut]

hello could you do a sal fisher x fem reader who is very confident but also really friendly?

Ok so I tried but I wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or fluff I guess it’s just more fluff and to be completely honest is was kinda lazy with it I’m sorry it’s not my best but I hope you like it (probably will delete later)

Sally Face x Fem!r

No major warnings slight smut near the end but just like leaving marks and neck kisses

I believe that he has many insecurities because of the trauma he experienced as a child and because of the mask he wears.

-

When you go to the beach, Sal normally doesn't get in the water; he doesn't want his mask to get torn or fly off by a large wave, and if he does, he makes sure it doesn't get above his knees.

-

As much as he adores you, he is also envious of your confidence and unaffected demeanor when you fall flat on your face in public. People fall all the time. So, if someone messes up your or his order when getting food, you call the waitress back so they may make the necessary corrections.

-

You met for the first time in college. You could say you were popular, but it was more about how kind you were and how many friends you had. You were well-known, but not everyone knew who you were or wished to be like you. So you were sitting in chemistry as the "popular" girl next to the "quiet" guy (it's always the quiet ones). "Woah, that's such a cool mask!"

"Oh, uh, thanks."

"Did you make it yourself or get it from somewhere?"

“It’s just prosthetic." He didn't want to give into too much information since he didn't want to scare you away too quickly. He was surprised you didn't ask him what the mask was for; that hadn't come up in a long time.

-

You've been dating for a few months but have only known each other for around a year."Don't you want to know why I am wearing this?"

"I mean, yeah, I've always wondered, but you haven't seemed at ease talking about why you wear it or what happened, but I think you'll tell me when you're ready."

It took him some time. He removed his mask totally about five months into the relationship. He was stunning. You couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair and kiss him like you'd wanted to for so long. His lips were surprisingly soft. Larry and Ash are the only people who have seen his face (his father is irrelevant). You're now staring at him in awe. "I knew you'd look lovely, but I really underestimated myself." He drew you back into the embrace. It was brimming with passion, love, hunger, and lust.

-

You feel like it was harder not to kiss him. Consider how many times he's wanted to pull off the mask and make out with you, but he couldn't be too concerned about how you'd scream in fright or slap him for leading you on for so long just to be mortified under his mask. He was well aware that they were ridiculous ideas.

-

It was dark and rainy outside, and he had planned to take you out to a nice meal. You had your hair done perfectly, your makeup was simple, highlighting your best features, and you wore a dress that accentuated all of your curves as well as a pair of sneakers to look attractive while remaining comfortable. He was driving with his headlights on, barely able to see due to the heavy rain. "Holy shit, Sal! Stop the car, Sal!" He pushed on the brakes, forcing himself forward as you jumped out of the car. A cat was frozen in front of the car; it was dark, wet, and shivering. You cloaked it in a hoodie.

Your hair was a mess, and what you thought was smear-proof mascara was running down your cheeks. "We don't have to go if you don't want us to."

“No no, I'll just put my hair up and clean my make-up." You walked into the restaurant, garnering strange looks as if you'd been living on the street. "sal table for two?"

The night finished with you leaving markings all over him and him biting into your neck, which was okay because you were willing to wear anything that claimed you as his.

#sally face #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #bro is so fine on my knees #I need him 🤭

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER SEVEN — WELCOME to the REAL WORLD, JACKASS

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summary: christmastime in hawkins brings a bunch of cherry bombs in the boy's bathroom, a trip down memory lane via seven minutes in heaven avenue, and the least likely trio this town has ever seen. content warnings: MINORS DNI i'm going to fuck you up and santa isn't real so we've got, smut including references to and descriptions of male and female masturbation, smoking, swearing, a pregnancy scare, era-typical misogyny and ANGST in the form of a flashback!!! word count: 12.5k. merry christmas babies

Dear reader, it takes you less than five weeks to become incapable of imagining your life without Eddie Munson.

Which, given his propensity for being an absolute neanderthal, is concerning.

Eddie Munson talks with his mouth full and plays his music too loud. He never closes a cabinet all the way. He walks through anywhere, literally anywhere, be it a store or the library or Ronnie’s trailer–leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He talks during movies and puts his feet up on the seats at the Hawk. He makes fun of the books you read, but always grabs them away from you to stare at the blurb on the back. He never finishes a cigarette all the way before lighting another one, which is just wasteful. He pretends to be good at holding his liquor, but he’s not. 

He stands too close to you in places where he’s got plenty of room to move. He makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to. He holds the door for you in school, at the bookstore, getting out of the van, even though you’re more than capable of doing that yourself. He takes advantage of you when you’re in a good mood, like making you scratch his head as if he were a cat.

Sometimes he calls you ‘baby’, as if you don’t have a nickname already. As if you two are…

You lean toward the only mirror in the girls’ room with decent light, reapplying the red lip stain you’d taken to wearing– it was coming on Christmas, for god’s sake, and despite everything, you’re feeling festive. Quick. Lighter on your feet than you have been in a long time. 

“Hey girl, could I borrow that?” an out-of-tune simper rings right next to your ear and you almost jump out of your skin, lipstick clattering into the sink.

“Jesus!” you say, and Eddie Munson cackles. You knock him back with a one-handed shove, face setting into that funny little grimace you’ve taken to wearing when he acts up– and he’s always acting up. You’re gonna get wrinkles if he doesn’t cut it out. “What the hell are you doing in here? Hair in your eyes make you miss the sign that says girl’s room?”

You know that’s not true, because you were the one that just about tied him to a chair in Ronnie Ecker’s trailer so you could trim his bangs last week. 

This is a fuckin’ violation of my human rights, Lacy!

Every time I’m seen with you, people think I’m out walking a goddamn Briard. Hold still!

“So, hot off the press, newspaper girl,” Eddie says, leaning against the yellow porcelain, “One, I am literate, much to everyone’s shock and awe. And two, someone threw a bunch of cherry bombs down the john in the boy’s bathroom and the place is fucking Hiroshima, but wet and kinda shitty smelling. So we all got told to use this…” He gestures around at the clean-ish tile. “...salon of iniquity.” 

“Was it you?” you ask, plucking a cigarette from the soft pack he’s offering you. 

“Huh?” He scrunches his brows, leaning with a lighter ready. He’s taken to doing that; cigarette at the ready, lighter at the ready, low-grade explosives at the ready, probably.

“The cherry bombs, was it you?” you say through a reel of blue smoke.

“For once, no,” Eddie sighs, head slumping forward like a Peanuts character, “Some other gorgeous, anarchistic genius got the jump on me.” 

“Oh, god,” a frown sets in; you pick up your dropped lipstick and in its wake, ash into the sink, “There’s no other bathrooms on campus you animals could use?”

“Nuh-uh. Unisexuality, baby, it’s the way of the future,” Eddie tells you, fanning out his hands like P.T. Barnum. 

A beat. You think. This bathroom, the unofficially allocated senior bathroom, the one you and the rest of the Hawkins in-crowd had been using since sophomore year, got crowded at the best of times. The fumes of Aquanet were a definite health risk, but that’s an occupational hazard when it comes to being a girl. You add boys into the mix, nay, couples into the mix–

Damn.

“We’re about to witness the conception of so many toilet babies.”

Realization dawns on Eddie, his brown eyes flaring. “Oh shiiiit. I never thought of that.” 

“The band geeks alone, Eddie,” you whisper, head tilting toward him all scandalized-like, “We’re gonna show up at our fifteen year reunion and every single one of these suckers is gonna have their own little freshman clones.”

“Spare a thought for Heather Holloway.” Eddie’s face, a mask of mock concern, makes you roll your eyes.

“Why?” you scoff, not a fan, “She doesn’t inspire many.” 

“Objection. Her implants do.”

You turn to face him fully. “J’excuse?” 

“Swear to god,” and his palms are up, “Just saw her in Chemistry.”

“Good? Bad?”

“Conical. Jayne Mansfield.” Aaand his hands are gesturing, animatedly. Crassly. Pervily. “Take your goddamn eye out.”

“Wow. Christmas came early.”

“Christmas ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be coming early…”

“Ew.”

Eddie smirks and flicks his cigarette into the sink, hitting the faucet to wash it away– there were at least three good drags left in that, you think. 

“Heather H, first one to get knocked up in the Great Bathroom Insemination Project of 1984. Mark my words.”

“And you think you’re in with a shot?” Your tone is dripping in sneer. 

Eddie regards you for a moment, so you know something deeply annoying is about to happen. His voice goes all serious, barely above a whisper, as he closes space between you like he’s trying to beat a draft. 

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Lacy baby.” His hands brace either side of the sink you’re standing at, trapping you against him. See? No respect for boundaries. But– Hm. Not… that annoying. “Oversexed teenagers sharing the same bathroom– at Christmas, with all that mistletoe around and shit.” His eyes, searching you with a glint that’s s’posed to be provocative. You, elbow propped up by your folded arm, puff a plume of smoke into his face. He doesn’t even blink. Smirk pursing his lips up. The two of you have established a rhythm. “Anything could happen.”

“Ew, what the hell are you doing in here? This is the girl’s room.” Enter some upstart underclassman, and Eddie’s peeling away from you.

“You didn’t see the biblical flood on the second floor, Pippi Longstocking?” His voice is big and booming and bouncing off the tile, making the underclassman cringe. “Forcible takeover. This is my house now.”

“God, shut up, freak.” She shuffles by the two of you to a vacant stall with a look you recognize– she’s so telling her friends about those two trailer park abnormos just about copulating in the bathroom later.

“Great choice!” Eddie exclaims, door of the stall slamming, “I warmed the seat for ya!” 

—

“Watch where you’re going, you almost milled down that stroller!”

“I wouldn’t need to go so fast if you two, freakin’ Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Priss Ass, didn’t insist on getting to this place before it closed!” 

“We wouldn’t need to rush if you hadn’t spent all freakin’ afternoon at goddamn Lipton landing getting all– all–”

“All?”

“--toked up and shit!”

“Market research, Ecker! And, I’m gonna remember you said that! Later! When you want to get all toked up and shit– woah!”

Listening to Ronnie Ecker and Eddie Munson bicker in the front seat while you balance on a drum stool in the back of his van, clutching onto Ronnie’s passenger seat for dear life– no better way to get into the spirit of the season. You’d be joining in the milieu if you weren’t currently suffering from major motion sickness. 

Eddie takes a harsh pull into a parking spot outside of Family Video and–“Go, go, go!”--you three load out like soldiers, locked on the target. He takes the lead, swinging the door open for the two of you ladies, but a voice calls out from the counter before Ronnie can even get a toe over the threshold.

“Oh, no– no way, no way!” Steve Harrington’s yelling from the helm of the ship, waving his hands. “We are– fifteen goddamn minutes away from close, I can’t do this tonight!” 

“Highly unwise of you to turn away paying customers, Harrington!” Eddie gasps, Ronnie ducking under his arm. 

“You guys come in here and spend honest-to-god hours talking shit in the aisles and– and you never even rent anything!” 

“Well, your luck’s about to change!” Ronnie says, and Steve regards her with a mask of total confusion because, well, it’s likely he’s never heard her speak directly to anyone other than Eddie before. 

That’s when you roll in the door under Eddie’s arm-arch, color rising in your cheeks that’s not from the cold. 

“I am deeply reconsidering my association with you guys.” 

“Tough shit.” “Find another trailer park.” “You love it. You love us. You’re obsessed.” 

You pinch both of your hands towards them, the universal action to encourage zipping it, and cast a glance towards Steve. His shoulders relax. His vest is green and garish and a terrible color on him and… he’s wearing elf ears. And he’s Steve Harrington. And your stomach clenches, though it’s more muscle memory than anything else. 

“Hey, Steve,” you smile, soft and small and not really all that there. 

“Lacy. Hi.” He does smile at you, after a beat. “You responsible for these assholes?”

You hadn’t seen him since the night of his party, that grand inferno that had landed you here, standing between Eddie and Ronnie and feeling not entirely awful about it. Well, you hadn’t exactly seen him then either, except for a flash when Eddie was dragging you out of his house. 

So, y’know, the blush is entirely justified.

“She’s bankrolling us,” Eddie says, closing the door to keep the heat in and speaking just to break the tension. True, too– you’d scored a part time gig at The Bookstore after a confrontation with the eagle-eyed Ivana regarding certain missing copies of Little Women, The Woman Destroyed and Fear and Trembling. You assumed you were working off the thievery, which you never directly admitted to and she never directly accused you of– but then, she paid you. 

Ivana, it turns out, is incredibly pro-workers rights and even more incredibly anti-Hawkins gossip mill. Which works out a treat for you. The bookstore’s become more of a haven than it had been before. 

“Can you scatter already?” you direct two thirds of your threesome towards the stacks. “Let’s make this breezy, I feel a wave of mortification rising.” 

“No. I was promised in-store bickering,” Eddie says, rooting himself to the spot. You catch a weird flash of– something in his eyes. Ronnie, with her unlikely band geek strength, groans and yanks him toward the horror section. “It’s my favorite part! It’s like the pre-show!”

You take to the counter, gingerly, shyly. Why are you shy? Why, all of a sudden, after showing your ass in such a spectacular bruise-garnering fashion, are you shy to speak to Steve Harrington? Is it because Nancy’s dropped a tidbit here and there that he’s not exactly great boyfriend material? Is it because you sometimes secretly think, good, I hope you two are having a terrible time, even if you and Wheeler are making baby steps towards a friendship?

Is it because you never forget the first person that called you Lacy?

Fuck knows. Some of that. 

“So you’re… what, hanging out now?” Steve asks, gesturing to the twin dipshits. There’s a bite in his voice from a former incarnation of Steve Harrington, one with (somehow) bigger hair and an unchecked ego. It doesn’t all shed at once, you figure. He’s sloughing it off and there’s still some left over, judging by the way he’s staring at Ronnie and Eddie. 

You look over your shoulder to them. It would be so easy to deride it, right– only due to my unfortunate proximity to them, yes or girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for a ride these days or it’s community service, I swear. 

But you don’t. You turn back to him with a pinchy little smile. “I’m this close to getting them to let me play tambourine in their band. Can you even deal?” 

Steve, after a beat and a brow furrow, sort of half nods. “Think I kind of… get that.” 

You’re about to answer when another body comes barrelling in through the back. 

“Just wanted to let you know, dingus, that I just got off the phone with Keith–you remember Keith, right, our manager who is currently in a war of words with our boss trying to keep this place open–and your little stock-take fuckup has cost us, like, weeks of manhours in work and–” Robin Buckley, complete with a light-up Santa hat, stops dead. Counts every person in the room. Shakes her head like she’s in a dream. “What is…”

“H–hi Robin!” Ronnie calls, her voice all squeaky– due to the scuffling headlock that Eddie has somehow managed to put her in without you and Steve even noticing. “Don’t worry, we– we’ll be out of your hair in a second!” 

And Robin– wait, is Robin kind of… blushing? She backs down immediately, putting her Family Video branded binder flat on the counter. “Yeah, no… that’s totally okay, take your time!” 

You look at Steve. Steve looks at you. You quirk an eyebrow like– is that, is she… And Steve shrugs like, don’t ask me, sister. Pleading the fifth. Saving Robin’s dignity. 

But you’re still you and you’ve been bugging Ronnie about her situation for weeks so you hold up a finger.

“What are you two idiots arguing about?”

“Black Christmas–” “Silent Night, Bloody– ow, Ronnie, don’t pull hair, you girl!”

A swivel back to Robin, who is totally pink-cheeked. “We need a professional to settle this.” 

Her mind seems to stutter like a badly wound tape. Oh, she’s suckered. “Uh– uh, Black Christmas, for sure. Not exactly the coziest thing to watch, but–”

“We’re not cozy people!” Eddie yells, Ronnie coming at him with arms like weed whackers.

“--but Margot Kidder, right?” you poke, goddamn Jimmy Page and John Bonham for the Midwest set slamming into the counter on either side of you.

“Olivia Hussey,” Ronnie says breathlessly. Eddie seems to have winded her somehow. “That’s– she’s cool–I heard she was in this–”

“Exactly!” Robin lights up, excited, “She– she played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet–”

“Wait, don’t you see her boobs in that movie?” Eddie jerks in. 

“Yes,” Robin and Steve chime in unison. And glance at each other. Telling. 

Ol’ Munson there snaps his fingers. “Sold.”

“But not in Black Christmas,” you say, almost gently, so as not to… let him down?

Eddie rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward your shoulder. “I’m a man with an imagination, ain’t I?” he rasps. You pretend-shudder.

“Okay, let’s do Black Christmas and– you got a copy of The Thin Man?”

Blink-blink goes Robin, like a cartoon. It’s nearly audible. “... like, the William Powell, Myrna Loy Thin Man?” 

Your turn to roll your eyes. God, you guys love to roll your eyes, huh? “Is there any other?”

“Like the black and white movie. You’re sure? I just didn’t think it’d be your–” 

But Eddie cuts right through that assumption that’s making an ass out of you and Robin, because he knows. He knows because you’ve made him sit through Double Indemnity at the Hawk, scolding him for putting his feet up (god forbid, right!) and you’ve even threatened to drag him to some Buster Keaton retrospective that’s playing there after the holidays. He keeps thinking, man, if Wayne Munson ever comes across this girl, he’s a goner, and then he remembers why that won’t be happening any time soon. 

“She’s a freak.”

You regard him with a tight smile. Kind of a thanks, kind of a fuck you. Kind of your thing. 

“I’ll watch it when these bozos pass out.” 

—

Something’s gotten into Eddie. 

You three are absolutely basking in the glory of your one night of freedom– see, Granny Ecker’s away on a weekend hotel stay in Indianapolis with one of her special friends from the Hawkins Senior Center. Which, on the one hand, gross, Eddie never ever wants to think about Granny Ecker getting lucky no matter how happy for her he is. But on the other, in the words of her beloved granddaughter–

“God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes!”

Eddie has stolen Granny’s usual spot, the kick-out recliner that seems to sag more with every movement. You and Ronnie are bunched onto the little two-seater together, with Ronnie shyly suggesting that you paint her nails (black, how totally hardcore)– now, Eddie knows this move. This is so she can distract herself from the bonafide creepiness of Black Christmas because while she tries to put on a brave face, Ronnie’s eyes for horror movies are way bigger than her stomach. She’s all nerves. It’s why she’s such a good drummer. 

As you’d predicted, by the time the movie ends and you all clear the six pack that Eddie had procured, Ronnie’s nodding off– but Eddie is determined to stay wide awake. You make a move off the couch and she grumbles, having narrowly avoided propping her head on your shoulder. You move to arrange her in such a way that she’s sleeping Nosferatu style, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I spent an awful lot of time on that polish and I won’t see it ruined, not on your account,” you chide, real quiet. Ronnie’s not listening, she’s pretend honk-shooing. Eddie, on the other hand, is. 

He likes you like this. You’re sweet to Ronnie, in your prickly little way– making her flustered with your misdirected flirting, bonding with her about things so far out of the realm of his male understanding. Being a girl with her. It’s occurred to him that Ronnie, in her testosterone-soaked world of current comrades, might actually need that. Like, she’s friendly enough with Jeannie and that Vickie girl from band, but they’re not people she’d go out of her way to make a case for so’s that Granny Ecker will let them stay for dinner. 

Which she’s done for you. Once or twice now. Which you’ve nervously accepted and even ruined your manicure for, by insisting on washing up the dishes. Eddie dried, because of course he did, because the Ecker trailer is the only place close to home that the two of you can hang out.

You’re, like– friends. 

Which is horrible.

Eddie tosses you a cold can of soda from the fridge. You catch it, hands basketing above your head.

“Power forward.”

“Cheerleader.”

You lean over to the TV to swap the tapes out, insistent on watching your dumb little black and white movie. As you do it, your skirt lifts a little bit and– 

Eddie’s gotta break eye contact. Stare at the floor for a second. Cock jumping like the fucking mole from whack-a-mole.

He almost hits it.

You bitch, are you wearing thigh highs?

“You need to pull trig, Munson?” he hears you from the kitchenette, clicking the video player’s play button. “You only had two beers.”

God, maybe. Was the room spinning? “Smoked a lotta weed today.” 

“Right. Lipton landing,” you smirk. Ronnie’s derisive little nickname for Reefer Rick’s place. “Are you gonna get over here and snore through my movie or not?”

I do not snore, or some muttering of a similar fashion comes out but he’s doing exactly what you tell him to do. He can’t help it. Brain function gone all freaky from that flash of flesh squeezed out the top of your– yeah. 

Eddie lands on the floor next to you with a little groan. Your eyes flick between him and the now-empty recliner. 

“What are you doing down here?” 

Oh. Busted. “I’m a gentleman, Lacy. Take the damn seat.” 

Your face screws up in that silly way it does whenever he talks sense to you but you don’t wanna hear it. Brat. “No. I like to sit right up near when it’s something I really want to watch.”

A shrug of your little shoulder as you wrap your arms around your knees like a kid. Face illuminated by the greyscale on the television. Skirt rucking back against the carpet. Fuck.

Eddie lets out an unsteady breath, crawling forward to lie on his tummy. Closer to you. “You’re gonna get square eyes if you keep doin’ that, dorko.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist…” but you say it in this half-hearted, distracted way, eyes on the screen.

“Y’know, if you–” Eddie starts, eyes on the lace top of your–yes indeedy–stockings.

“Shut up,” and you tap him on the shoulder. “I love this part.”

Your hand stays there as some fancily dressed chick totally eats shit in the bar of some hotel or something. Christmas presents flying everywhere as she falls. 

Women and children first, boys.

Say, what is the score anyway?

Oh, so it’s you he was after.

Hello, sugar.

Your hand stays there as you’re totally mouthing every single word, you true-blue nerd. Eddie, completely at a loss of how to react to this other than gaze, gaze, gaze at you, snaps his teeth at your hand. 

You, so completely embroiled in Nick and Nora’s white hot banter, gasp at the near-bite and swipe at his head. Eddie dodges the blow by rolling onto his back, hair fanning out on the Eckers’ rug. He grins up at you, and all of a sudden the rise and fall of his chest in that worn-out Alice Cooper shirt is very distracting. 

Pretty girl. 

Yeah, she’s a very nice type.

You got types?

Only you, darling–

“--lanky brunettes with wicked jaws,” you say, beat-for-beat with William Powell. 

“Talkin’ about me?” Eddie says, lips peeling back, eyebrows quirking.

“Not in your wettest, wildest dreams, Eddie Munson.” 

“Oh, you don’t wanna know what happens in those dreams. It’s filthy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s twisted. It’s disgusting.” 

“I bet.”

His hand is absent-mindedly stroking his chest, shifting the hem of that t-shirt up a little bit. Brushstrokes. You remember that? Eddie Munson has a happy trail like– 

“You’re so nice to me. It’s so fffffucking hot.”

“How wildly out-of-character,” you scoff, and he laughs, and you shift in your spot the teensiest bit. Eyes back on the screen, back to safety. 

From here, where he’s lying, Eddie has a fully illustrated view of the flash of skin up your skirt. Now that you’re not looking at him, he’s looking at it. Swallowing back saliva. Ignoring Nick and Nora. 

It’d be simple as pie to walk his fingertips along the rug and brush up against you there–oops–by accident or design. Feel how soft that skin is. Feel that heat radiating from your–

“It’s alright,” he hums, eyes flicking to the ceiling. Otherwise, all the blood’s gonna drain away from his head and he’s going to fucking die. “I know I’m not your type anyway.”

Your head lolls to your other shoulder, exposing a flash of your neck. It’s sorely missing a tongue running along it, he thinks, breath shuddering a touch. 

“You wouldn’t know my type if it hit you with an eighteen wheeler.”

“Can Steve Harrington drive an eighteen wheeler?”

Lolling your head back in the most exaggerated form of exasperation, you groan. “God. The way you talk about Harrington, I’m willing to put money on the fact that you have a crush on him.”

Eddie shrugs, hand resting on his sternum. You had your hand there once, you recall.

“I got prescribed one on the first day of freshman year, just like everybody else. But it wore off.”

“Sure about that?” Your eyes narrow.

“Sure as I am that I saw you makin’ googly eyes at him at the Family Video tonight.” Eddie crosses his own peepers for effect. Your attention darts back to the screen.

“I was not–”

“You can just say it, Lace.” His face is a twisty little smirk, if you’d care to look. “Regardless of how utterly pedestrian it might be.” That was a dig at you, by the way. That was an almost eerie impression of you. 

“The things I felt in seventh grade don’t really have a lot of gravitational pull on me anymore,” you shrug, not giving. Because, when you think about it, you don’t have to give. It was a baseless kind of thrill, seeing Harrington tonight. One hit wonder. “He’s a cute boy. Reminded me I have a pulse. Nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie’s quiet for a few seconds, flicks his eyes up to watch the TV from upside down. Nick places an ice pack on a drunken Nora’s head. 

Hmm… what hit me? 

The last martini.

He smiles as you smile, and he wonders if you’re thinking of the same thing he’s thinking of. 

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Funny you mention seventh grade…” Eddie trails off, tugging at the rug underneath him.

“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?” Your voice is distant again. 

“Little bit of both.”

“Why?”

Well, he thought you might be fucking with him, but– “... God, you really don’t remember, do you?”   

“Remember what?” He sees your brow pinch, he’s getting to ya.

“Not a fucking clue.” No give, no glory, eyes on the peeling ceiling. 

“Remember what?” You’ve snapped your neck and are looking down at him now, thirsty for him to fucking spill it already.

“Total–” he blows a raspberry, “--blackout before freshman year, right?”

“Eddie.”

His name makes him sit up. Pavlovian, sure, and he’s trying to deny the fact that he’ll do just about anything you say when you call him Eddie in that slightly-tinged sour way and not Munson like you’re writing him off. He’s trying to deny that. He swears.

“Nancy Wheeler’s thirteenth birthday party.” 

You two are shoulder to shoulder, him facing the couch, you facing the screen, his breath warming the bare skin of your off-the-shoulder top which is an insane thing to be wearing in the dead of fucking winter, but praise Jesus hallelujah you’re wearing it. Your expression is unimpressed. 

“... yeah?”

“We played Seven Minutes in Heaven.” He lays that out a little too plain for your liking. Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven at a thirteen year old’s birthday party is like the non-denominational Hora for pseudo-white bread Christian teenagers, at least in Hawkins. Everybody does that shit. But hold on.

“... you were there?”

“Fucking obviously, dimwit, that’s the setup to the whole story.” He sighs in a puff, and he’s very close to you. Chin almost on your shoulder like that night at the Quarry. “Tommy Hagan ripped into me for like, fifteen full minutes because my spin of the bottle landed on you.”

Confusion is a disease and you’re terminal. “That was… not you.” 

Insistence is a disease and Eddie’s fatal. “Yes. It so was.”

“That was John Hudson-Wasserman.”

“That was not–,” Eddie full on splutters, like slapstick splutters, reeling his head away from you, “you’re gonna get me confused with John Hudson-Wasserman? The guy who was like, pathologically obsessed with the Kennedy assassination? The guy who moved to Des Moines like, two weeks after that party?”

Then you’re spluttering back all of a sudden. Everything you two are doing is contagious. “His parents named him after John F., can you blame him? –actually, I can totally blame him, that was bizarre.”

“Lacy.” Well, the way he says that straightens your spine. “Use that pretty little brain to think for a second, huh? There’s one unmistakeable detail I bet I can get to jog your memory.”

But you’re already there. Activated. Like a sleeper cell. 

“Your hair was all buzzed off. You had that bandage on your head.”

“I did. And you asked me what was under it, and I said–”

A hole. They cut out a part of my brain so I’d be– The Wheeler’s linen closet was tiny and you were breathing in lavender detergent from all angles. 

The boy in front of you, scrawny and angry, had an aura around him like a firework. You knew it was dangerous, but you wanted to look closer. 

–less of a freak? you finished. Such was the accusation du jour for this kid. 

Less of a danger to society, he said, chest puffed. They let me keep it in a jar. Just in case shit gets really real and I need to shove it back in. 

You don’t quite know what to do with that. Like. He is so weird, and his hair is unevenly shaved and he’s got little cuts and scratches and scabs all over him. Like he’s been running through brambles. He looks like a kid someone found in the wild. 

Did you name it? you ask, finger drawing circles on a nearby towel. Your jar brain.

Eddie Junior, he told you, crossing his arms. 

Aren’t you already Junior? Shouldn’t it be Junior Junior? 

His jaw hardened. No. I’m Eddie. 

You nudged forward on your toes to get a better look at the bandage– he was taller than you. It lumped out of his head, unmissable. Nothing to be done about it. 

He seemed to cringe away from you. 

Don’t try anything, skank. 

You bounce back onto your heels. 

I wasn’t, asshole. We don’t have to do anything– just… like… did it hurt? 

He paused for a full ten seconds (you counted) and swallowed real hard. Eyes wide as hubcaps, and dark, and frightened. He craned his neck toward you a little. 

Then the door swung open, Tina Burton standing there hand-in-hand with an irritated-looking Steve Harrington. Time’s up, losers! 

Al hadn’t asked if it hurt, when he beat the crap out of him for doing something so stupid. Wayne hadn’t even asked if it hurt, when Eddie came back from the hospital like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

You were the first, and you were the last, and it was before everything. Before you were even Lacy.

“What happened, anyway?” you ask. Soft. Like that last time.

Now, in retrospect, Eddie sees the error of his ways.

“I lit all my hair on fire with a butane torch.” 

“You what?!” 

“It’s not– entirely my fault! I think I saw someone with hair on fire in an X-Men comic and I thought, y’know, that’s an achievable look.” That’s a severe understatement. It was Johnny Storm from The Fantastic Four and Eddie believed that he could be like Johnny Storm only more badass and maybe with like a sick motorbike. What, you’re telling me you didn’t go through a pre-teen-to-mid-teen phase where you were secretly convinced you had superpowers? Smarten up. 

“And how high–”

“Yeah, okay, I was also hitting a Reddi-Wip can like crazy.” The nitrous oxide did not help these delusions. 

“Why the big bandage?”

“Eh, I got some, like, bitsy little burn. Total overreaction.”

“Do you have a scar?” Before he can answer, you’re parting his hair, right near the place you remember that bandage being. Eddie freezes, your frigid fingertips searching his scalp. You are… very close. 

“Uh– no, I don’t.” He gulps, avoiding looking at you directly in your bright, curious little face. “Can I tell you something truly fucking dumb?”

“Wouldn’t be out-of-character for you, that’s for sure.” 

Deep, deep breath. Fucking shit fucking goddammit fuck. Balls. “I regret it.”

“The hair thing? Yeah, you’d think–”

“No. Not kissing you.”

“Oh.” Your hands drop from his skull but don’t exactly leave his hair. Just kind of wound in there, hovering, the way you feel like you’re hovering now. 

“You asked me if it hurt, and then I was gonna– but then, fucking Tina–” Eddie says, eyes dashing to you in these minute little glances. Away, back, away, back.

“Fuckin’ Tina,” you breathe. 

“--and Harrington.”

“Ah.” You shut your eyes. He didn’t notice you were wearing green eyeshadow until right now. “The square root of the problem.”

“Huh?” Barely heard it. Too busy looking at the glitter on your eyelids. The way your eyeballs shift around underneath.

“You’re totally lemon sour bitter with Harrington because you think he made you blow your shot with me.” You open your eyes with a squint.

“That is so not–” Break a spell, why dontcha! But then, Eddie takes a bite. “Actually, if you pop-psychology that, there might be somethin’ there, but… I regret it because I didn’t just–”

You cut in. “Go for it.”

“Shoot.” He confirms.

“Power. Forward.” You emphasize, lips curling.

“Cheer. Leader.” Eddie says, gravel in his voice.

Do you know that your hand is still in his hair? Like, are you physically aware of it? (Answer: no.)

Nick. Nicky?

What.

You asleep?

Yes.

Good. I wanna talk to you.

Your head swivels back from the screen. He watched you look away, dart your tongue out onto your lip, look back at him. 

“Eddie.” There’s fizz in your voice.

“Yes, Lacy.” He wonders what flavor. 

“I think…” and you finally extract your hand to lay it in your lap. Withdrawing, willing to be shot down, but you’re you and you know that you won’t be. “We could make a case for making up for lost time.”

Eddie’s mouth has become very dry. “... meaning that…”

“Eddie, I think that you should kiss me like a seventh grader– eighth grader? So weird, why did Wheeler have eight graders at her bir–”

“Lacy. Back on track, please,” which is another horrendously pin point perfect impression of you. And he needs to be sure that you just said what you just said and that isn’t the ghosts of Lipton landing talking.

“We should try it out. An honest-to-god, never-been-done-before Seven Minutes in Heaven kiss. I happen to think it’d fix something in you.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs.

“No, I’m serious!” And it is kind of fizzing out of you, and you might not be entirely just talking about him for this next part, “I think you’re holding onto a lot of pent up energy that may have just gotten even more pent since we became, y’know–”

“Zoo animals with parallel enclosures?” Eddie says with an arching eyebrow. 

“Wow,” you swallow a breath. “That really sounded like me.”

“I’m afflicted with a Lacyism from time to time.”

“Is that like astigmatism? Because you should get that looked at.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist?”

“Eddie.” Your voice, coming from your face, which is all dappled in the unserene technicolor glow of the Eckers’ Christmas lights, highlighted by the blaze of the black and white on TV. You make it look like stained glass. He would walk into oncoming traffic– “You trust me, right?” He would go and play on the freeway if you asked him to.

Eddie, Christ, he’s got to gather himself. Like the sweat gathering on his palms, he thinks, great work ethic, I need some of that. He gets a bright idea, brighter than those twinkling lights. “I think I need full authenticity in order to make this experience worth it.”

“What?”

“We need to find a closet.”

It’s pretty much a hard no on whether or not the Eckers have a linen closet (you’re a long way from Maple Lane now, babe), so it’s agreed that you’ll give Granny Ecker’s wardrobe a shot. You follow Eddie in there with tentative steps, like you can almost feel her watching all the way from the Best Western in Indianapolis she’s no doubt staying in. Trespassing is bad, yadda yadda, but it’s also exciting.

It’s exciting, being in here with him. 

He glances back at you, eyes a glimmer in the darkened bedroom. “After you,” and he flourishes a hand toward the open closet. 

You two are so not seventh graders anymore– heads bang against hangers, you’re kind of melting into a lot of denim and fleece and you… you don’t have much breathing room. No lavender detergent, just the beer-and-old-weed-sweet smell of Eddie Munson pushed close to flush against your chest. The scent of that shampoo you both use caught somewhere in the middle. 

Your breathing is so shallow, you feel like you might be having an asthma attack. You don’t have asthma. 

“Tight,” he says, and knits his brows, “I mean–”

“Cozy,” you correct, unsure of where to put your hands.

“We’re not cozy people.”

“So let’s do this,” you attempt to smooth your face into something resembling nonchalance, “Kiss me like a seventh-or-eighth grader, Eddie Munson.”

He clears his throat, shaking his head. A smile keeps flicking and dying on his lips. Heart about to burst out of his chest because of how weird this is, because of how weird you are, because of how– how– 

Eddie knits his fingers behind his back in an imitation of you, your girlish pose, and leans forward. About ninety percent, just in case you decide this was a stupid idea, or you don’t like the look of his face up close, or– or–

You close that perfect ten. Your lips feel like flower petals. Light. Baby-soft. Crushable.

It’s so chaste and it’s so innocent. It’s so the diametric opposite of the two of you, brash and harsh in your diverging, abstracting ways– waving only to meet in the middle. It’s pretty, like you are, and Thumper-from-Bambi-thumping-his-foot nervous like he gets around you.  

You pull away a fraction, and Eddie swallows a sound. To save face, he is about to say something– I give it a six or that’s what I’ve been missing out on this whole time or you flap that mouth an awful lot for someone who doesn’t know how to use it, something equally goading. Something that would make this… normal.

Until you take his bottom lip between yours. And it’s wet there. And it’s warm. And your lips are so, so crushable– 

Eddie’s fingers unweave and find your arms, find your waist. Slow, slow, he takes it slow because he could scare you and he doesn’t want to scare you. You’re curving into him, lips slicking against his, and then his tongue licking it’s way into your mouth which you just fucking open for him and it’s so good–

–and he tastes like salt and smoke and he holds you like he’s anchoring himself against you. Your hands wind on up, up, up his chest, catching on his t-shirt where his chest is (duh duh duh you fucking idiot), where his heart is thrumming under that smatter of a tattoo you got caught staring at that night in his trailer. It’s all you’ve got in you not to tug it up and off him, but Christ, no, because you need to keep kissing him. It’s so nice, it feels so nice, kissing him, when was the last time something felt as nice, that’s all you can think with sensation seeping through your body like a sugar rush. Hands move to either side of his neck and he makes a noise. 

Your fingers, fishing hooks in his hair, pulling him closer and closer to you. 

The heat. Of his body. Matched only by the heat gathering in the cherry pit that lives in your stomach. 

And he needs, god, Eddie needs it fucking bad. It is a lot of things. It includes your tongue so far inside his mouth that you can taste the Tab on his uvula this time. It includes more of your tits pressed against him, so he can feel if your nipples have hardened under his touch. It includes this moment, just this moment, just kissing you as your body winds around him–

But then you pull back. Before he can whisper the little, “No…” that’s coming like a reflex, you cover his mouth with your hand. The mouth that’s all slick from kissing– you. 

Jesus Christ. You had really done that. The stupid, idiot both of you. 

“Guys?”

Eddie, dizzy and down-the-rabbit-hole tipsy Eddie, gets the impulse to lick your hand, to take your fingers in his mouth and just start sucking, but he doesn’t do it. Because he has now snapped to the fact that that’s Ronnie Ecker calling out for you. 

The two of you, twisted around each other like snakes in her grandmother’s closet. 

“Go,” you hiss– no, you breathe. He was just expecting you to hiss. But you’re breathy and unsure about the command you’re giving. Still, you jerk your head. 

Well, Eddie’s pretty hard up about telling you this, but, “Can’t. Need a sec–” Like, can’t you feel that?

Eddie’s standing more than half to attention, pressing in between the both of you. 

You let out a jagged breath that sounds like oh, fuck, and it’s not the kind of oh, fuck he was hoping to hear and his heartbeat stutters. 

And then you’re gone. 

Eddie stands there, hands held aloft around the ghost of you that was there, that was right there and kissing him. Like you meant it, like it wasn’t an experiment or a joke or a dare or anything other than what you wanted. You wanted him. You wanted him. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he breathes into his hands, dragging them down his face, his lips, the smell of you still lingering around him. “Oh… I am so fucked.”

Kentucky fried fucked. 

You make your way back to the living room on trembly legs, reaching for every steadying surface, attempting to destroy the evidence of a swollen mouth and Munson-finger ruffled hair. You find Ronnie sitting upright on the couch. Nick and Nora have nearly solved the case. You don’t give yourself enough time to make a mask of your face that could easily lie to her. 

“Munson had to pull trig,” you say, and it’s not steady enough for Ronnie to not call bullshit.

But she doesn’t. Not outright anyway.

“He okay?” she asks, nearly wary.

“I don’t know. Could be comin’ out of both ends, I don’t know,” you start scrambling around for your bag and your shoes and your coat and not your right mind because you left that back in the closet, somewhere between Eddie’s teeth and tongue. “Look, I hate to ditch on you, but my mom–”

“She’ll be on your ass,” Ronnie says, measured like a cup. “Sure. Go on. I’ll think about calling 911 if he chokes.”

Breathing out some piss-poor rendition of a thanks, you dip out of Ronnie’s and past his van and all the way back the lot towards home. 

It’s freezing. You’re not. For once.

When Eddie finally reappears from the closet, Ronnie is sitting in the exact same position. Except this time she looks somewhat judgier– maybe because it’s easier to be judgier toward Eddie than it is toward you. Some kind of girl politico he doesn’t understand. 

“You feel better?”

“Huh?” Eddie says. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Do you feel better. Lacy told me you had to barf.”

“I… I guess.” Eddie has already cashed in his once-in-a-lifetime lie convincingly to Ronnie Ecker voucher. 

“She also told me you maybe shit yourself?”

Alright, well, that was unnecessary. “Alright, well, that was unnecessary.”

“I guess I was just hoping that…” she sighs, crossing her arms, “... that you weren’t puking and shitting yourself…” she sits back against the couch, “... when you were making out with her. In my… bathroom?”

He really does consider leaving out this detail. “Granny’s closet.”

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

“She’ll know. She’ll kill me.”

“Oh, she’ll kill ya,” Ronnie mutters, “And then I’ll go to work on ya.”

—

You two have got to stop fucking each other over like this.

Fucking each other over, conceptually, actually, is interesting. Because Eddie’s done a whole lot of fucking you over in his mind since that closet. Sliding your panties aside and fucking you with his tongue, polyester lace of your stockings creating static against his hair, sparks snapping off your inner thighs as you rub against his nose. 

Following you back to your trailer and fucking you with his fingers against the cold, metal exterior, your nails digging into his neck and your voice stabbing his name into his eardrums. 

Pulling you into his lap in the driver’s seat and tearing through the cotton of your underwear with sheer animalistic fervor, making you lean back against the steering wheel as he sucks your tightened nipples, cock safe and warm in the slick, deep wet of you. 

Somethin’ like that. He didn’t sleep much this weekend.

Mind stuck on the one track, your lips smacking against his. Now in fabulous 3D!

In every single one of these fantasies, too, his idiot sap ass is whining your name fifty billion times more than you’re whining his– so much so that it breaks the fantasy barrier and he’s crying, “Fuck, Lacy-yy–,” into his limp pancake of a pillow, cum careening down a fist that should have nerve damage by now. 

He is exhausted. And to make it worse, he hasn’t seen you. 

He hasn’t even been avoiding you this time. So that’s all on you, you bitch.

“You bitch…” he mumbles, head resting against the cold brick of the newly-unisex senior bathroom, which has become a hellhole in no time. First period on a Monday is usually an okay time to get a bit of peace and fucking quiet, though, because everyone else is at least making an attempt at starting the week off on the right foot. 

But not Eddie. Not worn out, prick-tired Eddie. 

And not whoever is doing a horrible job of hyperventilating in the stall next to him. 

“Excuse me?” a breathless voice says. He thinks he kinda recognizes it but–

Then, ew! Some gagging, some violent coughing, a little ugh, Jesus, please not again–

Eddie slides out of his stall and knocks on the next door– and it swings open with ease. 

She’s crouched over the cistern–gross, fucking gross–and tears are streaming down her peachy cheeks, catching on her pointed chin. 

“Christ, Wheeler. S’matter, you pregnant?”

Nancy Wheeler’s eyes flash in a flare of rage, a choked scoff spitting out of her. She’s about to fucking cuss Eddie out, it looks like, which he kind of wants to see, but then whatever straw that’s holding that together snaps and she lets out this wild sob of total incredulity. 

Ohhh, as much as he would love to bolt out the door like it’s not his problem, Eddie realizes that this has now, somehow, somewhat become kind of his problem. 

—

“I gotta talk to you.” 

Ronnie Ecker appears like a lightning flash, knocking you clean out of your reverie of slowly crawling fingers and lips and teeth and guilt that had been plaguing you all weekend. 

You had spent most of the last forty eight hours staring into the middle distance, ready to glue upright nails into your shoes and walk on them for penance. You fucking stupid slut. Kiss me like a seventh-eighth grader, Eddie Munson. You unbelievable fucking cowshit. See, because, okay, do you know what you’ve done?

You’ve taken the first real friendship you’ve possibly ever had in your life (save for Phoebe, God rest her soul that moved to Saskatoon) and completely entirely fucked it sideways, and sure, you’ve also spent a lot of the weekend thinking about other things getting fucked sideways, like you since you’re now cursed with the knowledge of the vague suggestion of the outline of Eddie Munson’s dick but moreso, foremostly and mainly you want to fucking take a swandive off the edge of Sattler’s Quarry. 

Addendum– there’s too many quarries in this fucking county. 

A ping-ponging of guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-slinking your way to first period the long way that’s only now broken by Ronnie Ecker coming down on you like an Acme anvil.

Meep meep.

She knows. Of course she knows.

“Ronnie,” you whisper, eyes following her as she lands herself into the aforementioned Munson’s seat behind you, “I can explain…”

“Don’t!” There is this vigor, this knife’s edge in Ronnie’s voice that is terrifying and kind of thrilling but mostly scary and having been in the presence of Granny Ecker even those few times, you knew she always had it in her. 

You recoil. A little.

“If Eddie wants to be a fucking moron about you, please can we just let him, and not–” Ronnie’s mouth clamps closed like a Muppet’s might. Like she’s physically trying to calm herself down. “Look. I really like being your friend.”

Oh, Christ, your heart. “I r– I–”

“You’re dogshit with the emotional stuff, I get that, but I’ve been friends with that asshole so long that wearing my heart on my sleeve is like, second fucking nature so I’m not and I’m pissed off, frankly, that there’s a chance of him coming between, like… us.”

You and Ronnie. You, and your friend Ronnie. “Oh, it’s–”

“Because technically, by absolute technicality, I was your friend first, okay? We were lab partners first and I thought we had a vibe goin’ in Biology and I was the first person you wanted to talk to at the Hellfire table even if it was a thinly veiled ploy but you’re so good at ploys and you’re such a piece of work and you’re so funny and I wouldn’t know what Ponds cold cream actually does if it wasn’t for you. Fuck.”

“Granny’s a soap and water girl.” There’s a fluttering in your chest and a thickening in your throat. You swallow big, and you think you might actually start– “This doesn’t mean I’m gonna try fencing, Ron.”

“But it’s fucking cool, even if we do it with sticks.”

You take her in, baseball cap shoved over her coiled hair, darned-all-to-hell sweater sagging out under her overalls and you really feel like something is about to bust out of your chest. Your honest-to-god friend, Ronnie Ecker. 

“Miss Ecker, last time I checked, that’s not your assigned seat.” God, Kaminsky’s such a relentless dickwad.

“I’m having a conversation,” Ronnie says, with the kind of as-yet-unheard volume from her that makes the rest of the class go ooooh!

Jesus fucking Christ, have you turned Ronnie Ecker into a bad girl?

“I don’t give a shit!” rumpled Kaminsky says, slapping that dusty chalkboard duster full of dust, “Have it in detention.”

“Hey! That’s–”

But if you can do one thing for Ronnie. “No can doozy, Mr K, Miss Ecker has a prior commitment.” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, not you again,” he mumbles not-quite-under his breath. “And what is that? Lacy?”

Before you can even say the words peer tutoring, none other than Eddie Munson is barrelling through the door. He stops comically short at the top of the classroom, gesturing to Ronnie in his seat like what the fuck? 

“Lacy!” he eventually says, and he’s breathless and flustered and just like you imagined him in–

“Munson, what in the name of the goddamn Father Almighty–”

“Weekly Streak–” and guy is just snapping his fingers, blinking wildly at you, “–thing!”

You stare on in a state of confusion until you spy Nancy Wheeler right in your eyeline, right through the open classroom door. Her little face streaked with tears, and god, she looks like shit, and she’s beckoning to you with a flutter and a fury. 

“No, of course!” a little murmuring, uh, shit, and you hurry to the top of the classroom, slamming the homework that Kaminsky’s obviously going to ask for on his desk with a rattle. 

“Kaminsk, my man, the future of print media is forever in your debt!” Eddie calls, ushering you out the door and into the echoey hallway. 

“What is going on?”

Both Eddie and Nancy shuffle you down the hallway, avoiding the monitors (rat finks!), dipping under the east stairwell. A great stairwell. So much illicit shit has happened in this stairwell and you have an itemized list of it all, somewhere in your brain. The kind of person people tell things to.

Nancy’s just full tilt gulping like a fish out of water, and Eddie’s all, “Wait, shit, are you gonna barf again?” and you’re all, “Answers, please, tout suite!”

“I’m late.” Nancy’s voice doesn’t even tremble. She’s that scared.

“Fuck.”

“Very?”

“Extremely.”

“You’re sure?” you press, and suddenly you’re the kind of person that grabs Nancy Wheeler’s shoulders. 

Her lip trembles. “I mean, I haven’t–” 

“Well, we gotta. Right now.” And it occurs to you that Eddie is just standing there, a polite enough distance away that he’s involved but kind of not involved, but respecting the space that you two need. How does he know how to do that? How does he always know the right… “Eddie.” 

He snaps to attention, mouth all serious and eyes all eager. You want to kiss him again, but this shit is not about you. 

“We need a ride to the drugstore.” 

The three of you pile into Eddie’s van, him insisting on doing the honors of opening the passenger door for you again, and Nancy quietly requesting that you share the passenger seat with her. You two are squished together, her spindly thighs overlapping yours. Denim versus dark suede. There is a very tense silence in place the entire van ride there, Nancy digging her nails into her palm and Eddie nervously thrumming against the steering wheel. The tape deck plays resumes mid-play– Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. 

For your part, you experience a harsh zoom-out moment– Nancy, who you’ve learned is almost as strong-headed as you, just on a better moral track (lawful good versus chaotic neutral, you think Eddie once framed it), is stranded. She’s the eldest sibling to that little shitstain Michael and Holly, who’s a baby so to you has no discernible personality, and her mother is kind of an airhead and her father… you don’t know shit about, but it’s Hawkins, so dads. The responsibility of everything seems to fall on her all the time, and you can only be so resourceful as a teenage girl in a town like this. Especially when the other teenage girls seem to, at best, keep you at arm’s length, or at worst, ostracize you. 

And Nancy had lost Barbara Holland. Who, when she mentions her, is talked about with such a glow that’s followed by such a wave of sadness that it nearly takes you under too.

She misses her so much. She misses her best friend so much. 

Barb should be the one dealing with this. Not you. Which sounds like you’re shirking responsibility. But really, it’s because you don’t know if you fully deserve the privilege of helping Nancy. 

Truth is, Nancy would probably be okay, handling this on her own. Sure, it’d be another inch of depth added to the chasm of loneliness building in that poor girl’s psyche, but she’d do it, because she’s Nancy and she handles things.

Just like you’re Lacy and you handle things. 

But however Eddie Munson ended up as part of this situation… he brought her to you. Because he knew you’d know what to do. So she wouldn’t have to do it alone. 

Because Eddie doesn’t want people to do things alone. 

You only really have that impulse if you know how terrible it feels. 

And if you don’t see kindness as a weakness.

Which Nancy doesn’t. And Eddie doesn’t. And you… don’t want to, anymore.

You reach and peel Nancy’s fingernails from the grooves they’re digging into her flesh. You don’t even look at the half-moon marks they’ve made. You just glue her palm to your palm and web your fingers. And over the frizz of Nancy’s perm–the nice kind, salon kind, the kind that doesn’t stink of egg–you look at Eddie, just as he glances at you.

He smiles, small and unsure and wavering. You bite your lips between your teeth and try the same. 

“Shit, I don’t think I can go in here.” 

The van has skidded into an inconspicuous (but not entirely, because have you seen that fucking vehicle) place near the drugstore.

“Why?”

“People– the pharmacist knows my mom and everything,” Nancy shudders, “There’s no way that people won’t have something to– fucking say.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and you give him a look like, welcome to the Nancy Wheeler Actually Swears Club. Care for a canape?

And y’know, you could argue so what. So what if people have something to say. You’re young, mistakes happen, the world keeps turning. But one skip in a perfect twelve-inch record of reputation like Nancy’s can make her life a living hell. You know that. 

Shit, she knows that– you weren’t not aware of that stroke of creative genius vandalism that went up on the Hawk marquee that one time.  

And it would shatter Nancy’s mom’s heart. And while you don’t have the same time of day for her, Nancy really loves her mom. 

Once you’ve ruined your reputation, you can live quite freely. 

That moveable feast motherfucker was onto something. 

Click, and Eddie’s glovebox pops open in a clatter of tapes and a one-hitter and other ephemera. You reach in, retrieving sunglasses you’d left in here a little bit ago. 

“So let’s give ‘em something to talk about,” you say, sliding on the shades. 

Nancy clutches your arm, eyes wide and searching. “Lacy.”

You shrug, like it’s nothing. Except nerves have started nibbling at you. “Spot me a ten. What am I, a goddamn Rockefeller?”

“Not anymore,” Eddie Munson grins at you. Sun breaking through the bleak midwinter. The nerves cease their nibbling. 

—

The tension doesn’t exactly ease when you make a beeline for the drugstore (particularly because you’ve just accepted a goddamn miniature hero’s quest and he’s a little… well, he’s not not watching your ass as you walk away, let’s put it that way). 

Eddie and Nancy Wheeler are still absolutely enormous universes apart. Not even the same species. He doesn’t mind keeping it that way. This right here is just, like… the right thing to do. 

He moves to turn the radio down, figuring that the thrum of Fade to Black might be a little much for her right now. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for–”

“No, it’s okay.” Wheeler smiles that flat, priss smile reserved for the barest of polite gestures. 

Eddie nods, propping his elbow against the window, cupping his face in his hand. He keeps kind of sneaking sidelong glances toward Wheeler, because– well, had you told her anything? About… Seven Minutes in Heaven? Does she even remember that, from her birthday party all that time ago? He knew that you two weren’t exactly tight, but were well on your way to getting tight, but not as tight as you are with Ronnie and certainly not as tight as you are–or were–with him and Jesus Christ almighty, he’s got to find a synonym for the word tight.

“You… play Dungeons and Dragons, right?” Wheeler asks all of a sudden.

Eddie glances down– he is in fact wearing his Hellfire shirt. She’s a sharp one, that Nancy.

“I dabble,” he says, a derisive little chuckle that’s not all-the-way mean spirited.

Wheeler bobs her head. “My brother, Mike,” she says, and he sees now that it’s an effort to keep her nerves steady, “he loves it. Like, he’s totally obsessed. Him, and his friends, they’ve got their own little party going. Majorly long campaigns, very involved.” 

“Campaigns, parties. Using terminology like that, I’d say you’re something of a dabbler, Wheeler.”

Nancy chuckles. “I– may have dressed up as an elf for one. Or two. When I was way, way younger, though.”

“Well, your brother– Mike?” Eddie checks and Nancy nods, “Once he gets to high school, why dontcha tell him to look up Hellfire. Could be the best-worst decision he’ll make for the next four years of his life.”

“Right, because you’ll be passing the torch,” she says, grinning.

“And possibly to a Wheeler. Oh my stars and garters,” Eddie gasps, clutching his chest in mock-shock. 

Wheeler laughs and, okay, maybe she’s not so bad.

“Shoot, we have movement.” And out you come, holding the Advance pregnancy test over your head, gleaming and victorious– but Eddie and Nancy flap their hands, willing you to put that fucking thing away! We’re being subtle!

Climbing back in the van, you announce, “Alright, so the good news– no doctoral interference, obviously. The wonders of modern medicine, everybody give thanks to Johnson and Johnson, et cetera. The bad news– who knows of somewhere we can steal–” you glance back at the box, “--thirty glorious uninterrupted minutes of time?”

“Lacy, I can just–” Nancy starts, but you stop her short with a tap to the head. 

“And have you sitting in class all day with your guts churning because you don’t know what’s up or down that spout? I think the fuck not. We’re doing this now.” This is out of the goodness of your heart, you swear it is. 

But there might be a fraction, just a generous sliver, that still loves the drama. 

Like Steve Harrington, it’s not an immediate shed of the ego. It’s a slough. 

“Well, my place is a no-go,” Nancy tells you, shrugging into herself. “My mom will definitely be home.”

“Ditto,” and your mother is the only person you know that loves gossip more than you do. Besides Eddie, of course. 

After a beat or two of wondering silence, Eddie raises a hand. “I may… have someplace… we can go.”

—

How many cherry bombs does it take to make a boy’s bathroom look like the bombing of Dresden?

“So fuuun fact, turned out that some nerd swiped a hunk of sodium from the Chemistry lab and just blew this mother to shit,” Eddie brightly informs you and Nancy as the two of you pour over the instructions for the pregnancy test kit. 

“While everyone was distracted by Heather Holloway’s implants, you mean?” you murmur, scanning over the small-sheet size booklet.

“Streets are saying she was an accomplice.”

Holy fuck, these instructions were involved. Nancy stands clutching the little rectangular tray that her pee is supposed to go in, nailing Eddie with a look beyond normal categorical nerves. “You’re sure no one’s gonna come in here?” 

He shakes his head. There might as well be police tape all over the door of this bathroom, that’s how off limits it is. “It’s cold, it’s broken, it smells gross. Maybe some people are using this place to huff paint, but I can guarantee, Wheeler–” and he bends a little to meet her earnest eyes, “--I will bark like a fucking rabid dog to clear ‘em away if I need to.” 

Nancy nods shortly. Jerk, jerk. She disappears into the least dilapidated stall with her pee rectangle. 

“God, she is so scared,” Eddie murmurs to you, crossing his arms. 

You’re still studying the instructions. This shit has droppers and test tubes and color changing strips, oh my. “Pissing shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

Wrong.

“Guys.”

“Yes?” “Yeah, Wheeler?”

“I’m a little, ahem–” Bladder shy. Perfect. Awesome. Not that you guys aren’t going to be shacked up here for thirty minutes anyway, but that’s only after Nancy Wheeler goes number one and you, like, mix up the pregnancy oracle potion. 

Shit. “We’ve gotta do something to like, make her chill out–” Eddie half-mouths at you. 

“Yeah, but she’s so high strung, that’s like–” a spark hits you. “Wait, have you got anything on you?”

“Fresh out. Waiting on a shipment from Lipton landing.” 

You smack him, not even thinking, and he winces. “And all that shit you were smoking the other day, that was–” “That was market research, babe, and I told you that–”

Nancy clears her throat from inside the stall. “Please, don’t quit bickering on my account. I’m only trying to figure out whether or not I need to start rehearsing lullabies.” 

Damn Nancy, Eddie mouths and you almost laugh. Wait.

“Nance, what’s your favorite song?” 

“Huh?”

You shake your hands. “Like, the song you absolutely cannot go without hearing? The one that makes you feel, just–”

“Ticklish?” Eddie suggests, the paragon of knowledge, the pinnacle of your annoyance. You thump him again. “I need a safe word.”

“Um– uh…”

“C’mon, Wheeler, the song that makes you feel just… awesome and chill and on top of the fucking world, c’mon!” Eddie encourages, kicking detritus around the bathroom floor.

Nancy eventually, eventually mumbles something. 

You pivoting around on your heel by the sink. “Louder, Wheeler, I wasn’t born with sonar.”

“It’s– it’s ‘Just What I Needed’.”

What? Eddie mouths to you, arms binding across his chest. 

“What, like– The Cars, ‘Just What I Needed’?”

A pause from Nancy’s end. “... yeah.”

You know this song. You know that song, right, it’s like duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW… Shaking yourself out, you brace up like a boxer heading into the ring. 

“Gimme a lead in, Nancy.” Holy fucking shit, you’re really doing this. Nancy hesitates, probably because she can’t believe any of you are really doing this. 

A mumble… “I don’t mind you comin’ here…”

“--and wastin’ all my time!” you jump in, “”cause when you’re standin’ oh so near, I kinda lose my mind…” 

Visions of a plush lilac bedroom, yours, and a mountain of clothes and makeup and drained wine cooler bottles on the floor. You, standing on your bed in your socks and shorts, vamping– Tina and Carol singing hairbrush backup, Nicole on air guitar and Cass smoking out the window. There were flashes of this, you know, when it wasn’t all boiling vitriol and subtle shivving and one-up-manship. When you and those girls that you wished you weren’t near but knew you needed actually felt like friends. 

A memory like that makes you feel empty. 

“It’s not the perfume that you wear,” oh my god, “It’s not the ribbons–in–your–hair,” is he really, “And I don’t mind you comin’ here– and wastin’ all my time!”

Why the fuck does Eddie Munson know this song?! Your jaw drops open, your eyes go wide and your feet stamp against the tile like a goddamn kid. Yes! Yes! Amazing! You’re both so fucking out of tune, like there is absolutely a reason he does not sing a single note in Corroded Coffin but by god alive, you’re giving it everything you got in that fucked up boy’s bathroom. 

Eddie’s so much better at it than you are, pouring every bit of obnoxious showmanship into it that he possibly can– complete with pulling you in for a fully nonsensical dance number. You spin into him, crashing into his chest with a clumsiness you never thought possible, laughing so hysterically that you can barely get the words out. He’s holding the reins, and holding that falsetto so badly you think the mirrors will shatter. 

Your skin is buzzing, your heart is hammering and Eddie is pressed against your back and you are both scream-singing to the door of Nancy’s cubicle– “I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed! I needed someone to feed– I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed I needed someone to–”

“Pee! Pee, you guys, I’m peeing!” Nancy’s voice, bright and high from actually laughing, rings from the busted toilet. 

You and Eddie erupt into a triumphant yell, him shaking you like a rag doll against him. The laughter peels away and then it’s just kind of him, looking at you from over your shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around your waist. His lips, a little cracked. Breath a little labored. Lashes still so long. You nearly–

The door flings open and he jumps away from you first. Nancy heads toward the sink and you resume the position, helping her figure out the Chemistry play set that holds the answer to how the rest of her life pans out. Thirty whole minutes, they’ve got to wait. 

Nancy notes the time on her watch. 

She even suggests that you guys can go at one point, but Eddie reminds her that a) he’s keeping an eye out for paint huffers and b) “... y’know, maybe it’s not so great to…” “Do this on your own,” you finish for him. Nancy nods, silent and grateful and so fucking nervous. 

At about the seventeen minute mark, when you and Eddie have smoked four cigarettes each and Nancy has tried a puff of one (“Nope,” she hacks, “still totally vile…”), Eddie tosses this stink bomb between you two. Nancy has excused herself to stand with her head against the cubicle door. Something about calming her nerves. Coming up with a plan. Something to tell Steve, no doubt. 

So it’s just you and Eddie, you sitting on the edge of the sink and Eddie rhythmically kicking the wall. 

“You ever wanna be a mom?”

“Jesus, what a time to land that one on me.” You almost make a joke like you haven’t even stuck it in me yet, but that’s in bad taste. And implies a yet. 

Eddie smiles over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes. Stupid. Stupid eyelashes. “Grounds of relevance.”

You pinch your lips between your teeth. “... fine. But, I fully reserve the right to change my answer given the fact that we are eight-shitting-teen years old.”

He points to the cubicle and mutters, “Well, she’s seventeen.”

You, wide-eyed at his dumbassery, mouth I know!

“Okay. Sorry. Go.”

“Fuuuuuck no. No babies pour moi, merci, c’est bon, au revoir!”

Eddie turns to lean against the wall, propping one leg up. God, but he does lean great. 

“Why?”

“Genetic fate.”

“Huh?”

A sigh flutters out of you, shoulders slumping forward. “A certain… how do you say, thread of assholery runs through my family, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” 

Eddie nods sagely and you kind of want to punch him for it. “Daddy issues. Right.”

“Uh!” A hand flies up in your defense. “Let who among us here without them cast the first stone.”

From the cubicle, Nancy calls, “Not me.”

Surrendering, Eddie grumbles, “Yeah, not me either.”

“Glad we agree.”

There’s another tick and tock of silence, and you get the distinct feeling of something being pried open in the atmosphere. 

“... whatever happened with your dad, anyway?”

Ah. The million dollar question. Whatever happened with your dad, so-called upstanding member of the Hawkins community, poor little poor boy done rich, scaling his way up the ladder of property management in this delightful little Midwestern enclave?

“Not a big fan of the news, are we, Munson?”

He seems to grimace at you tugging on his surname. “Print’s too small.”

“Taking offense to that,” Nancy chimes. 

“It was the big ‘E’,” you say, kind of not into bantering about it. 

“‘E’... ‘E’... ‘E’...” Eddie kicks the wall on each utterance. Possibly forgetting that he could also be the big ‘E’, if he wanted. You wonder if, just in terms of size…

“Embezzlement, Eddie,” you cut that thought off cold. 

His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting under his shaggy bangs. “Shooooot.”

“Score.”

“What all did he, like… embezzle?”

The raising of the hackles is not entirely intentional. “Y’know who’d be able to answer that question, Eddie?”

But he sees it. He calms it. In unison, you both shrug, “Al Munson.”

Boom! Cubicle door flies open again. You’re starting to think that Nancy might just love making an entrance. Lot of flourishing happening here. Not entirely unlike Eddie in that way. 

“It’s time.” 

Each and every one of you beeline to where the test is set up on one of the sinks. Nancy gingerly plucks the offending strip from the test tube and Eddie, a man with money on his mind, asks another million dollar question. “So how do you know…”

You grab the instruction leaflet that you’d been tearing corners off of, making it look nearly moth-bitten. “Wait, it’s white, right?”

“It’s white,” Nancy whispers.

“It’s not, like… off blue, or…”

“No, that is white,” she’s trembling. “Is white– is that good, or– I can’t remember.”

“Nancy Wheeler…” you breathe, peeking over the paper, “Congratulations. You are nobody’s mother!” 

She emits a shriek like nothing you’ve ever heard and barrels straight into you, near knocking you off your feet with a strength you didn’t know this little waif was capable of possessing. Her arms wrap boa constrictor tight around you, her words bubbling over like a shook up can of pop. “Jesus Christ, I’m so relieved, I just– I–!”

“You’re relieved?!” Eddie yells, ringed hands tearing down his face, “I’m way too young to be an uncle! Fuck! Thank god!”

Nancy chokes out a laugh through her tears, tears of relief, thank god and– and you don’t know if it’s selfish and you don’t know if it’s possible but you hope… you hope that’s helped close the chasm. Just a little bit. That she didn’t have to do this all alone in a shithouse bathroom that smells like sulfur and piss. 

Breaking away from you (damn, you wish you knew how to hug), Nancy straightens herself up. Not that she needs to. She’s a pretty crier, that bitch. 

“Just one more thing, you guys.” 

“Anything,” you say before you even know you’ve said it. 

“This is… between us, okay?” her eyes dart from you to Eddie, and you both take a step closer to her. Ceremoniously, Nancy holds out her two pinkie fingers. You link. Eddie links. His finger looks comically large compared to hers– and yours, when he reaches and hooks it around your unsuspecting baby finger. 

“No one can know. No one needs to know.” There’s that headstrong Wheeler reserve you’d been missing. 

“Cross my heart,” you proclaim.

“Hope to d– well, I don’t hope to die, that’s a little dramatic–”

“Eddie!” you both bark, varying degrees of amusement. Yours is on the lower end. “Swear on something real,” you push. 

He hesitates a moment, then gives Nancy a look. “Alright. Swear on Hellfire.” 

“Swear on Hellfire,” Nancy grins all tight, and kisses her right hand, hooked into Eddie’s finger. “Lacy?”

“Swear on Hellfire…” You mumble, rolling your eyes and kissing your Nancy’d hand. You need to swallow, first, before you tug your hand that’s hooked into Eddie’s toward your mouth. 

And he does the worst thing. He leans down to meet your gaze, suckering you right in as his lips pout. They’re hungry. You’ve met those lips. “Swea-aar,” he sing-songs. 

“--on Hellfire, okay,” you scoff, half-laughing into the little kiss. 

“Ha!” Eddie barks, so fucking loud that it jumps off the walls. “Trick! You just made a deal with the devil, ladies, so I hope you enjoy eternal damnation at the hands of yours truly!”

Dumb as he is, Eddie might be right. If the way you’re looking at him is anything to go by.

author's notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS MOTHERFUCKERS. WE GOT IT WE DID IT WE MADE THEM KISS WE MADE THEM REALIZE SOMETHINGS NOT ALL THE THINGS SURELY BUT IT'S. IT'S SOMETHING. IT'S A START! on to the fun bits, like the jokes in the christmas crackers - absolutely obsessed with the mental image of eddie munson's bangs grown too long and he looking like this - cherry bombs down the john is a reference to the classic prank but mostly to american graffiti my beloved. later in the chapter, eddie says that some kid just threw some sodium down there which is something i read about on this reddit thread when researching cherry bombs. domestic terrorism at hawkins high! - p.t. barnum is that mfer that the greatest showman is based on. horrible man! not a fan! - heather holloway's jayne mansfield titties got me thinking about the jayne mansfield-sophia loren photo which has its own wikipedia page??? anyway, lacy coded! - black christmas is a stunning christmas horror film from 1974, which is loosely in part based on a bunch of murders that happened in the westmount neighborhood in montreal, quebec. fun fact, i just moved back from mtl after living there for a year. anyway black christmas kicks ASS - lipton landing is 100% a juno reference. big up my king elliot page - the thin man is one in a series of fantastic lil films from the 1930s all about nick and nora charles, a married couple that get drunk and SOLVE CRIMES. i'm not doing it justice by describing it that way but myrna loy and william powell are the royals of married banter and i model everything i write after their rhythm, more or less. - you're trying to tell me eddie munson didn't do whippets as a kid fucking wise up - one of my personal precious favourite recurring jokes in this series is 'who died and made you my x' and baby. i love a recurring joke - ronnie saying "oh she'll kill ya. then i'll go to work on ya," is a special reference because a) it's from my favourite film of all time, ocean's eleven and b) ayo edebiri, who i've fancast as ronnie ecker, has an ocean's eleven tattoo. we are sisters and also wives! - meep meep! - all i could think about when writing about how guilty lacy was - another metallica needle drop!!!! - pregnancy tests in the 80s really were that insane and involved! there's a great scene in glow (rest in fucking PEACE! gone but never forgotten) of alison brie's character using one, and here's more of the history - maybe the best needle drop of this whole series imo - finally peeped into those daddy issues. look forward to more of that and with that my hellcats, i wish you the merriest of holiday seasons wherever you find yourself and whatever you're doing. i will be back after the christmas break because i have to fully wreck my bank account and see every single person i have ever known and drink every espresso martini on dry land. sorry if there's typos in this, i have been labouring over it for... ever. reblogs, comments, likes and asks are always appreciated and i love you so much it's bordering on criminal! thank you!!!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #published by powder

[cal-flakes]

hii would you be interested in writing a fic where rafe is reader’s dealer and they party together a lot but he notices her addiction getting worse and worse and starts feeling bad for being the one supplying her? i knows it’s kinda a big ask but i’ve just been thinking about it lol

╰┈➤ “you’re cut off”

warnings: sensitive topics, drug abuse, sexualising of self, mentions of bad home life.

summary: y/n’s dealer starts to connect the dots.

he swept a clammy palm over his face, sighing as he watched her stumble down the stairs for the fifth time that night, making her way over to him.

her hair was messily tucked behind her ears and her dress was in need of a readjusting. her eyes flitted around the room, pupils blown while her jaw repeatedly clenched.

he’d kept an eye on her all night, attempting to indirectly protect her from any harm. his chest tightened as he took in all these little details about her, the feeling of guilt washing over him.

y/n y/l/n, the girl once so shy, she’d failed one of her classes because she was too nervous to ask anyone for help. but now, now she was somebody else, something completely different. and he felt awful, awful because he was the one that did this to her, fronting her a bag whenever she’d had a bad day.

“hey rafe!” she beamed, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, almost embarrassed to speak the words he knew to well. “nah, you’re cut off” he stated, turning back to the half rolled blunt between his fingers.

“what do you mean i’m cut off?” she snapped, drumming her fingertips against the edge of the table. “i mean, you’re not getting anymore coke tonight y/n. not from me, not from anyone. you’ve had too much”

“what? no! i-i’m fine! see?” she almost cried, sliding into the chair next to him, leaning in to show him her ‘perfectly fine’ eyes.

she huffed when he wouldn’t budge, staring at him expectantly as she placed a trembling hand on his thigh. “rafe, please..” she whispered, pulling her lip between her teeth anxiously. “stop that, seriously, you’re not getting anything from me, don’t embarrass yourself” he spat, feigning annoyance to hopefully snap her out of this dark spiral.

tears brimmed in her eyes as she pulled away from him, leaving the table and hurrying back up the stairs almost immediately.

he sighed once more, throwing his head back against the cushioned chair. he knew she’d just try and score more upstairs, and he had to get there before she did.

hot on her tail, he jumped up the steps behind her, his eyes darting around the landing to see where she had gone. just in time, a door slamming in the corner of his eye caught his attention over the numerous drunken teens congregating around him.

pushing past the swaying bodies, he quickly turned the handle, causing her to jump slightly as he burst into the room. “get the fuck out” he snapped, gesturing towards the trio of boys huddled on the edge of the bed, counting money.

“for fucks sake rafe!” she yelled, motioning to the people now leaving the room, the only other people who could possible give her more coke.

sighing heavily, he pulled a lighter from his pocket, hastily sparking the blunt that was now in between his lips. he stared her down as he inhaled deeply, intimidating her into lowering her voice.

“that was fucked up rafe..” she whimpered, shrinking into the assortment of pillows against the headboard. “no, what’s fucked up, is your problem with drugs. that’s what’s fucked up” he exclaimed, flicking the dead ash onto the floor of the spare bedroom, perching on the opposite side of the bed.

“why do you even care?” she croaked, still jittering. “i care- i care because this isn’t you, this isn’t the y/n that used to be too scared to even look at me, and now you’re all over me, because i’ve got what you want..” not giving her a chance to explain herself, he continued. “you’re throwing your life away for a temporary fi-” she cut him off quickly. “and you’re not?” she snapped, sitting up in anger.

“that’s different”

“how!”

“because i don’t have a life outside of what i already am, i’ve always been this y/n! you-you haven’t! you could make something of yourself, yet you’re choosing not to!” he stated in exasperation, now leaning against the window.

“you wouldn’t understand rafe, how could you..” she muttered, running her fingers against the expensive material. “you don’t understand that they won’t let me!”

“who won’t let you?” he questioned, cocking an eyebrow. “my parents! sure, you probably think i could run off to some fancy college with my good grades and my good girl attitude! but that’s not true. my parents want to drag me down with them..”

“did you know they belittle me everytime i make an achievement? or that everytime i came to school with a black eye because i’d fallen off my bike, wasn’t actually because i’d fallen off my bike?”

“some people need an escape rafe! some people need to feel free from the chains of their family, or others expectations of them, and this is my only escape. the only thing that makes the condescending voices in my head shut the fuck up for a bit!” he listened intently as she rambled frantically, her hands flailing as she spoke.

his eyes widened the more she spoke, surprised at the ugly truth, or more so, that he felt like he was looking in a mirror.

y/n and rafe had created a friendship based on escaping from the harsh realities of their day to day lives, yet never bothered to look further into each others reasons why, and as it turns out, they weren’t all that different.

he moved quickly to slide into the space next to her, reaching to cradle her head as hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. “i am so sorry y/n..” he mumbled, burning a hole into the wall as he stared ahead, completely dumbfounded.

“why would you be sorry rafe?” she asked, taken aback by his sudden affection. “i’m sorry for not realising earlier, for not caring enough to find out..”

“you don’t have to be sorry for that..it’s not your problem” she whimpered, relaxing into his touch slightly.

“i’m going to take care of you, m’kay? i don’t care what it is, you need someone? you call me, alright?”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #obx #rafecameron #rafe obx #dom!rafe #dealer!rafe #soft!rafe cameron #soft!dom #soft!rafe #dealer!rafe Cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader

[mrsmiagreer]

SUMMIT THOUGHTS IN ORDER BY SCENE!!

“Hold still i’ll grab you one of mine” UGHHHH

“What do you think babe? How’s my hair?” EVEN MORE UGHHHHH😩😩😩

Yes Milo I AM laughing 😂

————————————————————————-

Vincent cut himself off, i wanna know what he wants to say :’(

“She sounded— nevermind”

HE GOT US A CROWN HES SO SWEET

wouldnt it be cool if this was like… the way of Royal Vampiric Engagement?

Vincent sounds so cute when he’s nervous 🥺

————————————————————————-

Sam’s loud ass truck rolling up lmao

ICECREAM!!!!

I just know Sam slicked his hair back into the tightest ponytail. His formal look HAS to be super cute

————————————————————————-

Porterrrrr!!

“Your human” LMAO

The thoughts about seating were actually really sweet

Porter now wtf are you talking about?

Vincent’s irritation is so warranted right now 💀

He’s up to something fs

“Bye now—” AND HES JUST GONE??!!

————————————————————————-

“Hey Bud!” Awe Ash we love you

Vincent sounds like he memorized this shit😂

Eccentric he says🤨

“Blink twice if you need a way out buddy” WE LOVE YOU EVEN MORE NOW ASH

“What😟😃” VINCENT LMAOO

————————————————————————-

Bennet you meanies >:(

Alexander and Christopher count your fucking days

A bit formal?? This is a SUMMIT?!

Take a breath BOY?!

Stfu both of yous

“Where’s Alexis?” Anything to get YOU out of my face 😒

————————————————————————-

HERE WE GO

“SAMS LATEST CONQUEST” ouuuu bitch—

she’s so snarky and condescending everything she says means something underneath but she sounds so sweet its annoying

Honestly if i was tank i would think about her words all night and for a few more days after that she dug deep fr and was actually making sense

Yeah okay darlin’ calm it down, don’t wanna get my head snapped off in front of 3810 year old vamps🤨

“Pettiness isn’t childish at all” 😒

You turned him because you wanted him but we don’t all get what we want huh?

“I FIXED HIM” GIRL LMFAOOOO

“I don’t like you, and I’m not going to” first of all, i’m so glad the feeling is mutual and secondly, this is my new favorite quote. I might not like Alexis but she ate with that one

PORTER TO THE RESCUE! but why?

“Oh darling as if i have a gag reflex” UGHHH😩

Sam to the rescue??

“What the fuck did she say??” “Where is she??”

I love the fact that it when tank ran away you can hear their footsteps. Since my Darlin’ is a girl, it sounds like she wore Combat Boots to the summit😭

————————————————————————-

Random message for David?

The music in the back is fucking hilarious

Quinn is coming back?? Yall knew it

William a bad person?? He’s a little shady but i think he has good intent honestly

Why does he lowkey sound like Christian’s VA?

————————————————————————-

“Don’t EVER speak to them again. Do you hear me???” Samuel don’t get me started🫦

“But playing is what I do best🥰🤭” she kinda ate with that one too

The fact that he even had to say anything along the lines of “if you care about me even a little you would do this for me” like If i was Tank i would cry because she agreed so fast😭 Like i know yall had something but like damn she still loves you?

Loser ass response 😒

————————————————————————-

MILO’s BACK

Awee Asher stumbling over his words

Why is Porter in everyone’s business 😭

Milo’s protective tone when he talks to Porter is tickling my insides🤭🤭

Closeknit??! Awe here we go😟

Porter is so suspicious right now…

“Hold the fuck up” MILOOOO😩😩😩😩😍😍😍😍

“Wait what’d you do that night?—” THEY DIDN’T TELL ASHER IT’S BEEN LIKE A YEAR AND MORE LMAO

Asher still being scared of making big decisions🥺

“Babe…” 😫😫🫶��🫶🏽

————————————————————————-

Tank being worried that Alexis threatened him is so real

“She was exactly who she appeared to be, i was the one trying to pretend i didn’t have a problem with that” REALLLLLLL

I don’t give a damn about her beat up heart

“I don’t want you to think that i felt like you needed saving” Honestly i appreciate this line because i hate the way it feels for someone to step in for you

“Maybe I wanted a chance of my own to tell the bitch to shove it if i’m being honest” 🤷🏽‍♀️😅🥳

————————————————————————-

knock knock

oouuuuu Asher’s telling David

Asher sounds in trouble 😭 David sounds like somebody daddy fr fr

the eye contact 😭😭

————————————————————————-

Ain’t this Loveboldly? All i hear is Crux😂

Funding?! ALL OF THIS FOR SOME MONEY

“Lower. Your. Voice. ” 💀💀

Alexander is so mean to his prince😭

“You’re showing your age Christopher. Or lack thereof” Damn he snapped him up

NOISE?!

————————————————————————-

“We’re about to have a fight. Be convincing” Uhh okay???

What the fuck is going awnnnn?!

Getting Vincent riled up for god knows what in insane💀

Glad he didn’t bring Treasure 😭

SAM TO THE RESCUE… ish?

“Consider yourself crossed”😲😲😲😲

“He’s dead” 🤨🤨😟😟 ALEXIS WHAT??? HOW’D SHE KNOW?!

#now i must hear your opinions on who did it and why #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted shaw pack #redacted solaire clan #redacted monarchal summit #mia makes a statement

[pacifistcowboy]

so i’ve made some sol-dimension versions of the characters from sonic’s dimension, in the same way that blaze is a sol-dimension version of sonic (and sorta knuckles) and marine is a sol-dimension version of tails. these two are the sol versions of shadow and amy!

i haven’t quite decided on the colours for sol-shadow, so i have a few designs for her. any opinions on which colours are best would be appreciated!! i can mix and match different parts of these designs, since i explored different things in each.

i’ll explain a bit more about them below

sol-shadow is a cat with cryokinesis, which is ice powers! and since the sol-dimension versions seem to have opposite personalities but still have the same core values n kinda ‘roles’ as their original counterparts, sol-shadow is friendly, upbeat, and social. all she wants is to belong somewhere and constantly wants to do things with people and never alone. in order for her to still have an anti-hero vibe, i’ll probably have it that she’s willing to do anything for someone if she thinks they’ll be her friend for it. she trusts people too easily and tends to unintentionally be a bit too lighthearted and playful in most situations. sol-shadow also struggles a lot with her identity and knowing if she’s a good person or a bad guy due to her dramatic backstory that i had to give her ‘cause that’s a big part of og-shadow’s character, but i’ll talk about that after i talk about sol-amy, ‘cause it’s gonna be a lotta words.

i haven’t settled on a name yet but so far the options are: glacier, frost, crystal, and floe

sol-amy is a bobcat (not too sure if that’ll change or not) with a giant sword instead of a giant hammer!! he’s got a crush on blaze, since that’s og-amy’s ‘role’ with sonic, but since his personality’s the opposite of og-amy, he pretends he doesn’t like blaze, or anyone, or anything. he tries way too hard to be a mean, uncaring recluse, yet everyone can tell it’s a façade and that he truly loves and cares so very much for people and the world and everything. he acts like he’s forced to work as a team and help save the day, but literally nobody forces him to hang around or help. his grumpy, complaining, pessimistic persona stems from the fact that he’s actually a really anxious person who’s scared of being close to people and failing to save the things he cares about.

possible names i have for him are: sabre, ash, thorn, spike, aster, and fern

onto sol-shadow’s backstory which i’m still working out n kinda experimenting: many many years ago, the sol empire was overthrown by sol-shadow’s family. they either inherently had cryokinesis, or sol-shadow’s parents were rejected by the sol emeralds when trying to harness them and as an unintentional consequence both sol-shadow and her older brother were born with cryokinesis. sol-shadow’s parents ruled but they were apathetic towards the citizens and power-hungry. they were loving towards their children and sol-shadow’s a bit naïve, so she didn’t see how awful they were. but sol-shadow’s older brother, pierce, did, and he was against their cruelty and secretly helped plan a revolution for the citizens. when the uprising began, pierce escaped with sol-shadow and lead her into a deep cave or something hidden like that. he told her to stay there and that he was going to go back to help, and once the fight was over he would come back to her. sol-shadow refused to let him go alone, so pierce froze her to keep her from getting into danger. when pierce went back to the palace, he ended up getting killed by someone working for their parents. the revolution was a success, and the citizens chose to put blaze’s family back on the throne.

so sol-shadow was stuck frozen in a cave (or maybe not a cave idk) for many many years until someone finds her during blaze’s time, and thaws her. and once she wakes up, all sol-shadow knows is that her family was attacked by the citizens, and that she wants to find her brother, which is gonna lead to a lot of misunderstandings and self-reflection and discovery.

any criticisms or input n such is appreciated! this is an interesting but tricky concept to make :)

#pacifistcowboyart #sonic oc #sonic ocs #sol dimension #sol dimension ocs #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #ig this is technically about them??

[twothpaste]

fick chunk about fuel's not-so-secret project at the new pork ruins, which somehow doubles as a whole-ass character study. (featuring bronson, nana, claus, lucas, and abelle my oc abelle.)

Speakin' of daylight: the noontime shine renders fire far less fearsome.

It flickers from the wick of a tiny index finger. Scarlet diamonds, scarcely greater than a candle's glimmer. How it kisses the ocean. That white-blue horizon line. There's a quaint horror, at the heart of the matter. Knowing even embers like these would - given the chance - reduce houses to ashes. And a quainter comfort, still. Knowing she'd never dare let 'em.

If you ask him 'bout phobias, Fuel ain't got none. Try talkin' to him 'bout "Pee-Tee-Ess-Dee," and he'll kindly decline, arms crossed. "Nah. Nope. N' hell naw, while I'm at it. But thank ya very much, Lucas." That kinda talk's for the twins. N' their forefathers. N' former Pigmasks, maybe some of 'em. His matchstick jitters're just a reflex. His muscles pulled stiff, at the scent of somethin' burning - well, that's 'cause it's a heck of a stinkin' smell. When he wakes up coughing, choking, on smoke that ain't there, it's that sleep apnea shit he's got. Nana diagnosed it. Y'can call her a madwoman, n' he does too, when he's joshin' around. But don't get it backwards. She knows what she's talkin' about.

Likewise, Abelle doesn't mention what's irking her. That she'd definitely be able to muster more than a goshdarn candle. Maybe an antique gas stove. Or a fireplace lighter. If only she'd gotten more than three hours of sleep. It casts a vague orange, ruffling up against the work station's tarped shade. Miscellaneous metal parts reflect only the teeniest glimmers. A wrench here. A dubious hunk of titanium there.

"So. Y'light it with yer mind? Just like that, huh…?" Even after all this time, truth be told, Fuel can still scarcely wrap his head around it.

"Sure do!" Abelle chimes. Before dousing her pride, so as not to be impolite. As the flame wavers, her brow furrows. "It doesn't exactly come natural, though. Gotta focus real hard on it. Helps to think of somethin' warm. I'm thinkin' of s'mores, right now."

"S'mores, huh? Makes sense, I guess. Y'ain't scared of it, or nothin'?"

"Me? Hehe! Naw, I'm never scared!"

"Well, shit! Beg yer pardon!" Fuel leans back, hands raised, donning an amused grin. Has a bite of his peanut butter sandwich, while he's at it. N' mutters the rest with a fist coverin' his mouthful. "I'm only askin' 'cause, ah.. Lucas used to say this psychic stuff was an awful sorta scary. Back when he first started doin' it, I mean."

"Oh, he's told me so, too. It's kinda funny, ain't it? Everyone always says he used to be so skittish. I can't hardly picture it." Abelle's got strawberry jam on hers. N' banana slices, too. She snuffs out the flare, just long enough for a meager nibble.

"Heh. That's fair. Sometimes I can't, neither." Beyond the makeshift awning, out there in the blue, silhouettes mill about the boats. Settin' up chemical filtering equipment, they'd said? Somethin' or other. If he squints, Fuel reckons he can make out Lucas' red-n'-yella plaid. Leading the pack, no doubt. "What if it goes outta control? If the fire gets bigger than y'bargained for, or whatever? That, uh… That ever happen?"

"Mm-mm," Abelle answers. Shakin' her head. "Not really. Not with PK Fire. Sometimes my Shields're too big, if y'can believe it. N' sometimes I start hearin' what other folks're thinkin', n' it's like..? Like I can't turn it off. But, if I'm bein' honest…" Her gaze dips downward, back into the shadows. Scrutinizes the pitiful candle wick, held low in her lap. "M'no good at Psycho-Kinesis. Offensive PSI, Kumatora calls it. The stuff y'can fight with."

"That ain't so bad, is it? Not much to fight about, these days."

"That's what Kumatora n' Lucas're always sayin'. But gosh, have ya seen them spar? They're incredible! N' Claus, too! PK Love, n' Ground, n' Starstorm… It's amazin'. The stuff they can do."

The way the kid's eyes brim with starshine, Fuel can totally imagine her watchin' the Cerulean Beach lightshow. Cheerin' from the sidelines, as Claus and Kumatora hurl fireballs at each other. Makin' the whole goddamn planet Earth shake, like it ain't done since armageddon. Or when Lucas' gaze takes on that otherworldly glow N' shit starts floatin' all around him. Like the very laws of nature were made to be broken, far as he's concerned. Somethin' so gentle n' mild - transfigured into somethin' downright cataclysmic.

Yeah, Fuel's seen 'em spar, alright. It scares the piss outta him.

"But me? I've got none o' that. Too weak for it, I guess." Abelle pinches her fingers together, quashing the flame like a bug. Takes a deep breath. Exhales it all, in one quick burst. "Shoot. Sorry. Didn't mean to go off on a tirade. I prob'ly sound real ungrateful. N' envious, besides."

"Naw, I, ah… I reckon I get where yer comin' from." Fuel shifts his weight, atop the supply crate he's sittin' on. Nurses a half-flat can of Sierra Mist. To clear his throat of that smoggy, cloggy sensation. "Y'just wanna be capable. Protect the folks y'care about. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Be a part of somethin' bigger."

"Yeah…"

"Nothin' wrong with wantin' that." Aluminum crinkles, frail, in his sturdy grasp. "Nothin' wrong at all."

His sandwich disappears down his gullet, during the brief quiet that ensues. Hers remains a work-in-progress. Restless, at seventeen and three months, even lunch breaks are a kind of labor. She shuffles her boots over strewn wires.

"Thank ya, Fuel," Abelle tells him. N' he perks up, and shrugs. Like he's surprised to hear it.

"Me? Naw, thank you. 'Preciate ya showin' me Pee-Kay Fire, at least. Made me feel a little braver. Fer what it's worth."

"Hehe. Aw, jeez. You're welcome, then."

It ain't pyrophobia. She'll take his word for it. But even little miss sunshine can tell there's somethin' he's tryin' to overcome. No matter how quickly he changes lanes.

"Say, y'don't got Thunder? By any chance?"

"Nope. Only Fire. Why?"

"Aw, no reason. Jus' curious."

"Well. I've got a curious question, too, if y'don't mind it. What's all this you're workin' on, in here?"

"Mm?" Fuel's gaze jolts to meet hers, if only for a split second. Dirty fingernails sift along the crate's lid. One foot kicks a heavy-duty screwdriver away, into the lamp-cast shadows. His teeth form a simper. "'Fraid that's a bit of a secret, lil' miss."

The kid's tired eyes turn suddenly sharp. Glancin' past him, at a dimly-lit swath of buttons and dials. Then directly at him. Snagged in a potent stare. Fuel hesitates before speakin' up. Still wearing that dumb grin on his face.

"Wait. Hah. Y'ain't tryin' to read my mind, are ya?"

Abelle stares harder. Takes a deep breath, leaning ever so slightly towards him. Then closes her eyes. As if embroiled in a deep, scrying focus. A chuckle cracks its way through Fuel's constitution. He shakes his head. Clambers to his feet.

"Okay, alright. I'll show ya. But, ah…" One index finger rises, as he drops to a near-whisper. "You'll keep it on the down-low, won'tcha?"

Abelle peeks one eye open. And smiles like a Keebler elf.

"Cross my heart, hope to die!"

-

Yellow paint peels to reveal steel plating. Which, in turn, gives way to scarlet rust. Layin' there in a dilapidated heap, rot notwithstanding, the central console alone prob'ly weighs as much as Abelle herself. Its glass cranium's a lost cause. Shattered n' displaced ages ago. Stiff rods stickin' out the circular chasm up top. Fuel managed to scavenge one lower left limb, mostly intact, from its would-be resting place. The others are a work-in-progress. They litter the workshop, alongside other unfinished Frankensteins. Pull on a pair of inch-thick gloves. A heavy helmet, with a darkened slit for a view. Smothered an apron, like a weighted blanket. She'd tell him he looks silly, if she didn't know better. Absolute spaceman.

He can't tame a bonfire. He can tame a welder. Got a safety checklist in his head. A spark-proof suit of armor. And a forge built of impenetrable battlements.

When Porky took Fuel, he had him puttin' in child labor hours at the goddamn bakery. Workin' dough for desperate dough. Burnin' bread like nobody's business. Absolute wonder he didn't get f-f-f-fired! As merciful a manager as Sweet Caroline was, the role suited her like a square peg to a round hole. N' Fuel, likewise, was a sorry excuse for a baker. Kneading putty, coughin' up flour and oven smog, apron tied too twisty-tight 'round his tree-trunk waist. Like his father before him, the young craftsman's calloused hands have always preferred sturdier fare. If y'ask Fuel, the hop-skip-n'-a-jump from lumber to iron ain't so much of a leap, after all.

Mecha Lions n' Boa Transistors are his bread n' butter out here. Should a stray Rhinocerocket come barrelling through the walkway, on account of a busted fin, Fuel's your guy. He'll whip up a replacement in no time flat. N' never mind the occasional dent that may mar his best bud's steely shins. Chimera repairs're a noble duty, far as he's concerned. One he's proud to uphold.

Robots, though? Most folks hardly consider 'em casualties. If they consider 'em at all.

An uncommon sight - most have long since ceased functioning. Uttered their last garbled beeps, and melded into the wreckage upon which they stand. A slim handful were reprogrammed n' repurposed, back during the first salvage missions. The rest were left to their tombs. Haunted the Harbor for about a decade, crawlin' around the place in various states of zombified dysfunction. You can picture a teenaged Fuel's cringing horror, as a shambling Octobot claimed his leg in a tendril's grasp. Yanked him straight down with a vengeance nastier than any sinkhole. Claus came to his rescue, this time. Made quick work of it. Crowbar's clash. Psionic flash. An ugly scowl marks the spot in his memory.

Y'can picture, too, how that same teenaged Fuel looked down upon the un-creature. One half titanium, one half bronze, sundered roughly down the middle. Circuit-tronics n' whatsits, blasted every which way. Not-brains spilling from its not-head. Its veneer, crisply obliterated, looked not unlike a welding mask. Come to think of it.

Each had a directive, once upon a time. Monitor the perimeter. Exterminate intruders. Serve King Burgers. Whatever. None have the chops for any task, anymore. Too feeble, ineffectual, expendable. Too little, too late. Wrong place n' time. To say robots "want" for anything would be a stretch. But the premise of "purpose" gets Fuel a wee bit misty-eyed.

Sure, it's a silly sentiment. He knows it. "Laugh it up, if ya like," he says. Becomes apparent to Abelle, real quick, that it ain't an illicit sorta secret, but a self-conscious one. Some folks have a righteous penchant for amends. He's got a feckless tendency toward unsung causes.

"Naw, I think it's mighty kind of ya," she replies. Naturally. Abelle's the girl who calls old cars "she," n' pats her PC's tower when it ain't loadin', n' prescribes human feelings to vintage stereos. That said, she'd be lyin' if she claimed her intrigue isn't primarily techno-historical. Eyein' the robot with an eagerness to match his mercy. "What about the wiring? N' the hardware repairs? I know just a lil' bit, myself. Might could help ya fix the processin' unit, if it's still got one."

"That so, Barbie? I'll take ya up on it, if y'mean it. Got Sheep helpin' me with some o' the electronics. Was thinkin' of askin' Claus, but they.. ah…"

They were there, last week, when Fuel pried the leg from the bog. Their spine's no good for heaving, these days. Helped him pull it loose, nevertheless. A mere index finger beckoned a telekinetic tug. N' they'd been all laughs, n' Lifeup, n' pats on the back, after Kerosene was sent tumblin' backwards. The foundry's mechanical menagerie had them whistlin' a different tune, though. Quiet steps, Lucas-esque. Deer in a taxidermy shop. Low glower, set upon Fuel's Lego brick pity projects.

"I don't see what's gotcha so touchy, all of a sudden. Ain't that different from Mecha Lions n' Boa Transistors, is it?"

Claus didn't answer him with the same old scowl. Not quite. Fury is a mask they outgrew ages ago.

Nana told him not to sweat it, over dinner. "Environment's got a profound effect on an animal's nerves. His words, not mine. He won't say so, but I think the Harbor has him a bit on edge. I wouldn't take it personally, if I were you."

"Me? Take shit personally? Hahah. I would never! Jeez, Nana, it's like ya don't even know me."

Fuel's the only one who can get her to roll her eyes with a smile. He loves it when she does that.

… Anyways.

He tells Abelle she ought not mention it to Claus. No sooner than she nods her noggin, Bronson barges in. Here to check up on his apprentice's handiwork, apparently. A wayward elbow knocks that can of Sierra Mist from its cabinet-top perch. "Oh, shoot. I didn't…" The master smith gawks down at his blunder. Only to find the can halfway crushed. And thankfully empty. Not a drop of spillage. He hunches over - pop in his knees - and picks it up. There's a remarkable grace to his hammy fingers. And a klutziness to his cough. ".. Ehm. Sorry." Fuel chuckles. No harm, no foul.

"Gosh, how many folks're in on this, anyways?" Abelle inquires. "Doesn't seem like much of a secret to me."

"The hell do ya mean? It's jus' Bronson, n' Sheep, n' Claus," muffles Fuel, through his helmet. "N' Nana, o' course. N' you. Now. I guess. So, uh. Practically nobody."

The robot's shiny new right leg is immaculate, by the way. Accordin' to Bronson's utmost scrutiny. A nigh mirror image of its leftward double. "I'm tellin' ya, Barlmoro, you've got this down to a science! Dunno what the heck y'need me for, anymore. I'll give ya a hand with the installation, though. Only since ya asked real nice."

"Why thank ya, boss," says Fuel. Who didn't ask at all.

But disaster strikes the master, when he hunkers on down. A sharp pain in his lumbar is swift to knock him right outta commission. Abelle ends up nursin' his woes with Lifeup, while Bronson nurses a root beer. She lends Fuel her lackluster telekinesis, in his stead. An invisible force - only a little shaky - helps him attach both legs, safe and secure, to the central console.

"… This look even to you, boss?" Fuel tosses back. Like a consolation.

Bronson holds up a measuring level, from his seat on the sidelines. Closes one eye. Squints. N' forces a wincing grin.

"Right on, kid."

Couple mornings later, Lucas swings by, in that awfully quiet way he's wont to. Nearly spooks Fuel right outta his skin, when he gets a knock on the wooden entryway frame. He tosses a frantic tarp over the automaton's arms. Raises his soda can, to meet Lucas' coffee jar.

"Ain'tcha doin' chimera transit today? Whatcha need little ol' me for?"

"We're gettin' started now. Thought I'd drop by, while uh. While most folks're preoccupied."

Lucas can't read minds. Besides Claus', at least. Kumatora's, maybe a little. But no one else. He's assured Fuel of it, 'bout ten or eleven times. Still, he finds his stomach sinkin' a little. The way his childhood pal looks right through him.

"Claus mentioned y'were repairin' robots. Told me not to tell anybody. Then, ah… Then Abelle said so, too. Ain't sure if it's still s'posed to be a secret or not."

Right. Of course.

"Heh, well, shit! Y'got me! I know, I know, y'don't gotta tell me, it's real stupid. They ain't livin' things. Don't even got feelin's, n' here I am feelin' sorry for 'em. We oughtta be usin' their parts for scrap, n' chimera repairs, n.. n' if ya need me to, Lucas, I'll stop n' do that instead, honest to god. Didn't mean to be all sketchy about it, I jus'..? Mm?"

Ain't like Lucas to interrupt. He raises his hand, instead. With a real pitiful blast of his overcast sky eyes.

"Err. Sorry. Go ahead," says Fuel.

"Don't worry 'bout it. S'alright. I just wanted to offer, um.. I mean. I can't work metal, or electronics, or do none o' that programmin' stuff. But. If y'ever need a jolt? Y'know, like, to jump-start somethin'?"

Lucas flashes him a thumbs-up. A teeny spark of PK Thunder dances from his fingertip.

"Lemme know. Anytime."

He watches, over a meek sip of coffee. While Fuel's pensive panic melts away like marshmallow goop.

"Ha.. haha! Phew, fuck, man! Thank ya, Lucas!! I mean it. Thank ya...!"

#another long one. fuck it we ball. #my take on fuel ended up being really funny?? unexpected funnyguy??? oops. #every time i pick up a character i haven't worked with before something insane happens i can't help it #the theme for this chapter is “frailty”. make of it what you will #osha's eleven #2thprose

[phoenixdeleted]

Memories and GIBD crossover (part 2?? Ig)

@tmnt-crossover-polls we got propaganda!!

Thank you dearly @theawesomeninja-xd for collabing with me by the way! I had a lot of fun! They own literally every other character except Angel and Neon.

When Neon and Angel heard who they were against in the polls Neon immediately decided to set up a cupcake stand. Angel didn’t know why but he loved the idea.

So here the two were trying to make a cupcake stand from random things in the back with Angel running around and being  Angel. (God Neon wished he had that energy.)

“WE HAVE A BEANIE!!!"

Neon practically jumped at the sudden yelling. He turned around, finding a way too hyper Leon excitedly showing the beanie. 

"Look, look! We got it! Just like we promised!!!"

Meanwhile, a much more drained Rafa gave a half wave as he caught up to his brother. "Hey Neon, we're back....ah, cupcakes." He thoughtlessly grabbed one and threw it into his mouth.

Neon smiled at the shenanigans and sighed softly, “thanks for keeping your promise,” then he turned to Rafa, “you look awful.” 

Angel, who has already jumped over the counter of the cupcake stand somehow not touching any of the pastries, gasped at Neon with a Beanie now in his hands, “Neon!”

Wait...Angel had a beanie already? So who's--

Angelo promptly took the beanie from Leon and put it on neon's head. He looked pretty out of it too. 

"This one's yours. Oh and as to your comment. We kinda fought with the adults and everyone had to make up and I had to make sure no one hated themselves so no one really got sleep since....a day ago?"

 ...What...?

"Oh...uh...sorry to hear that. Where's Dee by the way?"

Rafa finished another cupcake. "He ran off to hand out arson....arsa..."

"Arsenic," Leon corrected with way too much enthusiasm. 

"Yeah that. I dunno what what it does, but he seemed happy."

Neon chuckled, “Donnies will be Donnies, thank you by the way.” He took the beanie happily.

“That sounds cool!” Angel said excitedly, then turned to the group, “you wanna join us in making cupcakes? We can show you how!”

"Yeah sure," Angelo responded, "Although Rafa has to stop eating them." He lightly shook him. Rafa paused and gave an embarrassed smile.

"I wanna help!" Leon broadcasted.

"What, no!" Angelo said. "Don't you remember why you're banned from the kitchen?"

"Noooo I wanna help!"

“You can help if you want Leon. And don’t worry about it Rafa they are there for a reason.” Neon waved away at the air besides him. “Come on I can show you what to do.”

“HELL YEAH COOKING BUDDIES!” Angel exclaimed dragging the closest turtle behind the booth. “Come on I’ll show you my speciality!”

——

Neon probably should've kept an eye on Leon.

As he was working on his own batch, something suddenly exploded. Leon then waddled over to Neon with a hand behind his head and covered in ash.

"Okay, so this looks kinda bad..."

"Kinda??" Angelo exclaimed. "What did you even do??"

Neon grimaced and then slowly exhaled. "I'm...sure it's fixable." He laughed a bit. "Just show me where--"

"THERE YOU ARE!!"

Neon jumped again. How many people were going to give him a near heart attack??

He turned around to find...Raph?

He looked a little older, so probably not from their dimension. But it was definitely him.

"Where have you been?? You keep running off and scaring Leo--why is there a giant Leon...?"

Neon waved slightly looking like a deer in the headlights at the again sudden outburst.

Angel moved from where he was teaching the other turtles how to sneak in random ingredients to where Raph stood. 

Bouncing on his legs with a cupcake in his hands, he spoke a bit faster than normal, “Hi! Welcome to the cupcake booth! Take one for your time in the polls!”

Looking even more confused, older Raph gave Neon another curious look and then stared at Angel for a bit.

"...uh...thanks I guess." He took several cupcakes before awkwardly patting his head. 

Neon swore he saw him smile a bit.

He put the serious face back on, turning to the other kids. "You three. We're going before Leo has a meltdown." Despite the excuse, he looked like he was relieved himself.

Angelo shrugged, climbing on Rafa's back. Older Raph grabbed Rafa's hand as Leon looked around wildly. 

"Uh...bye Neon! Bye other big Mike!"

“Come back any time!” Angel waved wildly copying Angelo as he climbed onto Neons shell so he can wave to them from a higher vantage point.

“Thank you for the beanie you four,”Neon called out to the turtles as the older Raph turned to leave, “Come back if you wanna make more cupcakes.”

The kids waved back. The older Raph smiled a bit at them before reprimanding the others about wandering off.

WOOOOO LESSGOOO!!

#guess i’ve been disarmed propaganda #memories propaganda #tmnt polls #tmnt crossover polls #tmnt propaganda #rottmnt au #tmnt au #LOOK AT THEMMMM RAHHHHH

[maddieladner1999]

Bad Idea Right?

This version is fully in EJ’s POV and is a continuation of after the last one I wrote. I’m going to do Ricky’s POV of this tomorrow. I decided to make it in 2 stories POV so that you can read the whole story here but get the gaps between from Ricky’s POV. I will definitely be doing the conversation with the wildcats and Ricky’s parents as a part of it

After the night with Ricky, EJ was nervous to go to the show. He knows Ricky will tell everyone but he still worries about him. After texting for a few days, EJ FaceTime Ricky one night surprising him.

Ricky: it’s the night before the show

EJ: I know but I wanted to see your face.

Ricky: aw miss me already. It’s only been like a week

EJ: yeah and I had a question for you

Ricky: and what’s that?

EJ: have you told everyone in the drama club about us?

Ricky: yes. Carlos was confused and thinks his gaydar is broken because even though I may have been obvious with my obsession with you, you weren’t as obvious

EJ: ok good. What about your parents?

Ricky: no I haven’t. My dad isn’t always home sometimes he’s out so I guess I forgot about it and that’s not the kind of conversation I wanna have with my mom over phone

EJ: well you should tell your dad soon. I wanna be able to kiss my boyfriend tomorrow night and that may make it a little weird. Or awkward.

Ricky: ok. I will. My moms flying in Tomorrow for the show so I’ll pick her up and we can talk on the car ride from the airport.

EJ: sounds good. Well good night

Ricky: good night.

The next day EJ gets up early to take care of a few things before heading to salt lake. He asked Ashlyn already if he could stay since he isn’t on speaking terms with his father and she of course said yes. She also asked about Ricky. That was a fun conversation. She also asked him about the tree at shallow lake already. It’s one of his errands to do.

*2 days earlier*

EJ: hey ash can I stay over after the play. I don’t wanna drive back late and it’s a long drive.

Ashlyn: of course. But you know I gotta ask. Ricky?

EJ: what about him? He told everyone right?

Ashlyn: yes he did. I’ve never seen Carlos so confused and it had me thinking. You’re my cousin and I didn’t even see it coming having known you forever. Why didn’t you tell me?

EJ: idk. I guess I thought well the boy I like doesn’t like me so what’s the point? Besides after all this time I realized just another thing we have in common.

Ashlyn: what’s that

EJ: I’m bi to ash.

Ashlyn: well I’m glad you’re telling me know I guess. So when did you realize you like Ricky?

EJ: after the screening. I was so mad I thought I’d slap him but I couldn’t. I didn’t know why. After about a week of rehashing the summer in my head I figured it out. I wasn’t jealous of Ricky when he wanted my girlfriends, I just wanted him myself.

Ashlyn: well don’t bottle up next time, you can always come to me.

EJ: I know. I just after everything with my dad I guess I got scared. I got pretty busy with my school, extracurricular activities, and 4 jobs that I kinda forgot about him. But then she shows up and the floodgate opening and everything came back. It hit me so fast I didn’t know what hit me. When he told me he liked me I was shocked I mean there’s no way that Ricky Bowen could have feelings for me. But he did. He called and talked to Gina and they broke up. I made him stay the night because of the weather. I knew he could handle the drive but I couldn’t let him go out there in that weather. I also just wanted him around a bit longer.

Ashlyn: wow. Idk what to say. You really care about him

EJ: more than anyone will ever understand too. I love him ash. He’s my person. I’m tired of getting it wrong but god last night felt so good

Ashlyn: I’m assuming you did more than sleep?

EJ: yeah I didn’t think you needed to hear that part.

Ashlyn: good call. Anyway see you Saturday.

EJ: of course. Bye.

EJ hung up the phone and went back to his homework. He was just taking a break but that call lasted longer than he thought it would.

*Saturday*

After doing a few necessary errands, EJ packed a small bag and was on his way to Salt Lake. It was an hour drive so he had some time in his thoughts. He knew they were doing HSM 3 so he put on the soundtrack. When he gets to Ashlyn’s place he’s immediately greeted by Ashlyn.

Ashlyn: hey you’re earlier than I thought you’d be.

EJ: yeah I couldn’t sleep so I got up early to take care of my errands.

Ashlyn: well I got the guest room ready for you of course.

EJ: good. Thanks for this. I don’t know if I could face my dad right now.

Ashlyn: still not speaking to him?

EJ: no. I try to call but I just can’t find the words. And he never reaches out to me so you know why push.

Ashlyn: well you’ll always have me.

EJ: I know.

Ashlyn: so did you track down the thing?

EJ: yes. He’s coming with it tonight.

Ashlyn: good. I can’t wait to tell Maddox.

EJ: so I guess I’ll see you tonight

Ashlyn: where are you going?

EJ: I know I have 2 hours but I can’t just sit around besides I wanna look perfect for my man

Ashlyn: ok well then see you tonight

EJ goes to get ready. He’s brought a black suit that’s casual enough to not look like he’s going to prom but fancy enough to make him look good. He borrows the iron to get out the wrinkles his bag gave it. After about 20 minutes of making sure it’s perfect he hangs it up and gets in the shower. He spends way too long in there but having lived in a dorm these last few months it’s nice to be able to take a shower without rushing. He brought his toiletries so he’d smell like himself. He knew Ricky liked it. He spends the rest of his time after his shower styling his hair. He hasn’t coifed it in so long he almost forgot how. But finally he gets it to look how he wants and sees it’s almost time to go. He gets dressed and meets his aunt and uncle downstairs. They decide to ride together to the school.

Once EJ arrives he immediately goes to their backstage area. It’s the same as it was for HSM because they’re doing the play in the gym due to something the Quinn chick is doing in the theatre. He walks in announcing his presence in order to wish everyone look and heads for Ricky.

EJ: hello everyone I’ve come to wish you all luck so break a leg. Hi Ricky.

Ricky: hi EJ. You’re here.

EJ: I said I would be. I couldn’t miss your opening night. *EJ kisses Ricky*

Carlos: ok you too have always bickered like an old couple how did I not see it coming?

Seb: because you were blinded by your own love.

Carlos: aww sebby you’re so sweet.

Kourtney: alright lover boy no more kissing. I can’t have you ruining his makeup.

EJ: sorry. I should go find my seat. See you all after the show?

Ricky: I’ll see you during intermission.

EJ: ok then. See you then.

The first act went great. It’s probably the best a show has ever gone for the wildcats in a few years. When intermission came he went to find Ricky. It was easy since they all hang out in the same spot. Ricky drags him out of the room and down the hallway to an empty classroom

Ricky: I told my parents.

EJ: oh yeah and what did they think?

Ricky: they were surprised. But the conversation with my dad gave me some clarity.

EJ: and what might that be?

Ricky: why it never worked out with nini and just couldn’t quite work with Gina. I thought I had to be with them but truthfully I didn’t care until I saw them with you. I loved them yes but not like I should. I thought I wanted to be with you but I really deep down just wanted you. I’m gay.

EJ: wow. Well I’m proud of you for figuring that out.

Ricky: thanks. And hey what about you?

EJ: I’ve known of my feelings for you for a while. I realized though that I did love nini and Gina. I can’t change the past but it’s true. It’s in the past now anyway. I have you now. As for my orientation. It’s bi.

Ricky: well that’s good to know. I don’t have long before I have to get back

EJ: *looks at his watch* you have 5 minutes before you have to though.

Ricky: we’ll let’s not ruin my makeup too bad then

EJ pushes so forcefully into Ricky kissing him he pushes him up against a wall. Ricky starts putting his hands in my hair and I love every second of it. But I took a good while styling it so I stop for a second.

EJ: what are you doing with my hair

Ricky: I hate it like this. It reminds me of the you I used to fight with. I liked it this summer albeit it may have been a little long. I liked it that night in your dorm. It was messy. I like it messy.

EJ: ok then I guess I’ll let you ruin all my hard work to look good for you.

Ricky: well you should’ve known better than to style it like that.

EJ: I wasn’t being sarcastic. Go ahead. As long as I get those last few minutes to kiss you.

Ricky: you better.

EJ starts kissing Ricky again and Ricky gets back to ruining EJ’s hair. After a few minutes EJ tells him it’s time to go back.

Ricky: you should definitely take a good look at your hair. It’s exactly how I like it now. It’s kinda sexy.

EJ: you think I’m sexy?

Ricky: oh yeah. Those chest hairs help too.

EJ: cmon. It’s time for you to get ready for act 2.

When EJ and Ricky arrive at the backstage room everyone is in a frenzy. Maddox ruined the portable soundboard so now they have to use a manual one. Mr. Mazzara can work the manual one but he can’t play coach Bolton if he does so they ask EJ if he will. He finds it weird to do the play as he would be playing his boyfriends dad. He remembers that big red helped out with the soundboard during HSM and knows that he isn’t in the play this year so he has a good idea

EJ: wait big red isn’t in the play. He knows the soundboard he can do it during your coach Bolton scenes.

Mr. Mazzara: oh yeah good idea. Let’s do that.

EJ goes to find big red and lets him know the plan. Big red is happy to help of course and joins him in the gym backstage. They find Mr mazzara and big red gets the low down. EJ decides to find his seat now that his job is done.

After the play ends the wildcat gang goes to the auditorium to support Gina with the announcement. She manages to get the movie to be filmed here in Utah so she can fulfill her senior year here. Once all the reporters leave the gang hangs back for a while just talking. Miss jenn and Mr mazzara have finally realized their feelings and no one knows what to do now.

Big red: so what happens now?

Ricky: I have an idea.

They take the limo left for Gina to the nearest Denny’s in true theatre kid fashion. EJ knows the idea came from nini. Who else would’ve told Ricky. They hadn’t done that since he joined the club. He’s not mad or even jealous cause he knows Ricky is his now. They have the limo drive them back to the school since most of them drove to the school. EJ gets a ride from big red since he didn’t have his car and asks if he’ll drop him off at Ricky’s. He knows Ricky can drive him back to Ashlyn’s after. He has some parents to meet.

EJ knocks on Ricky’s door and it’s answered by Ricky’s dad. Mr. Bowen is surprised to see him and asks if he’s looking for Ricky. EJ says yes and comes inside waiting for me Bowen to return with Ricky. When Ricky shows up he notices that he has changed out of his previous outfit and into pajamas that he kinda wants to steal.

Ricky: what are you doing here?

EJ: I thought I’d come meet you’re parents

Ricky: yeah? That’s pretty quick

EJ: well your mom primarily lives in Chicago so idk when I’ll get another chance for that.

Ricky: that’s true. Let me go get her. Dads on the couch.

EJ moves to the living room and joins mr. Bowen. Ricky comes out with his mom and she’s visibly confused.

Lynne: who is this Ricky?

Ricky: mom, dad, this is EJ my boyfriend

Lynne: oh it’s so nice to meet you! Ricky and I had a nice long car ride chat about you.

Mr. Bowen: it’s nice to meet you son.

EJ realizes he never really knew Ricky’s dad or even met him before.

EJ: your son means a lot to me. It’ll be hard for us with me in college and him here in high school but I’m willing to work. And if he works hard at school next semester and gets in he’ll join me next fall.

Mr. Bowen: well it seems you have got it all planned out.

Lynne: yes. And Ricky I hope you’ll visit me in Chicago next summer. You can bring EJ too.

Ricky: I will after another year of camp at shallow lake.

EJ: you’re going back?

Ricky: yeah. Will you join me?

EJ: of course. And then I’ll come to Chicago with you as well

Ricky: well it looks like our summer plans are made too

Lynne: well I look forward to it then. I’m going to bed. Good night everyone.

Mr. Bowen: I think I’ll go too. Good night.

EJ: good night. Nice to meet you both again

Mr. Bowen and Lynne head in 2 different directions and go to bed. Ricky stays behind.

EJ: well I actually got a ride here from big red so I was wondering if you’d give me a ride to Ashlyn’s

Ricky: of course let me get the keys

Ricky drives EJ to Ashlyn’s and turns off the car for a second

Ricky: so you gonna send me your schedule next semester so I can find out good times to FaceTime?

EJ: of course. I’ll always find time for my baby.

Ricky: I love it when you say that.

EJ: you know I was thinking of growing out my hair again.

Ricky: yeah? But not too long. Honestly it’s already almost at the perfect length.

EJ: well I guess you have an idea already of how I’m going to keep my hair.

Ricky: yep. Well you should get going. I should head back home.

EJ: yeah. Text me when you get home?

Ricky: of course. Love you

Ricky texts him within the next 10 minutes as Ashlyn doesn’t live very far. EJ texts back good night and Ricky follows with the same. EJ is excited to see what happens now.

The end

#hsmtmts #ej caswell #ricky bowen #caswen #fanfiction #gina porter #ashlyn caswell #big red #badidearight

[madbadash]

Hey Ash! I was wondering if you could fill some of your OCs in this chart?

Thank you for this Teefies, this took over my day, both because it was fun and I didn't have headshots for Jessie and Jett so they got drawn today 😊😊😊😊

The masterpiece!!! This took way too long but also it was very fun

An explanation under the read more.

Dylan is absolutely crying, he hasn't really experienced horror and the jumpscares would get him SO fucking bad. Ryan and Tom are not crying but they are so scared, literally shivering in their seats. having an awful time, do not the beans Jett is crying but will not admit it AT ALL. Crying is for Pansys, He's not a pansy!! He jumps out of his seat so many times, cept for Vampire movies, those he's chill with, considering he is one now.

Purity and Vic both are like "i'll be fine! it's just a movie!!" and then are actively making the experience worse via paranoia. They keep imagining where the jumpscares are so vividly that the FAKE jumpscare they MADE UP scares them. Clem's not a fan of horror movies at all, she's both screaming because she's scared and because she's yelling at the characters for being stupid. You would think That Daisy would be the scared one and Jessie the Brave but nooooooo. Scary movies spook him soooooo baaaaaadddd. He is hugging Daisy or whatever friend is watching this with him as a comfort blanket.

Cypress is not scared, he's admiring practical effects and the like film making stuff. He loves looking at the scenery and trying to guess if it's a built set or if it's on Location. Bonnie is very scared, movies where the killer is stalking the victims get her the worst, that's usually when she'd get vocal, she deals with that a lot and it gets her paranoia really bad. She would HATE the Strangers. Echo is not scared. She thinks most horror movies are cheesy, the jumpscares get her sometimes, but she doesn't usually leave with a sense of dread. Sam is Scared but refuses to let anyone think they are, that's why they're so silent, they usually get nightmares afterward though

Steven is so fucking lost. As a Father, he is required to walk up in the middle of a movie and stand there with his arms crossed. He is not sitting down, and he keeps asking you "who's that?" "are they good?" "oh okay" and then completely misunderstand what you just told him. He does this with EVERY movie. Not just horror Hunter is just kinda half paying attention so he pretty often asks questions, usually right before a jumpscare, It's like he can sense them, he can't, it's just bad luck Arche is also SO fucking lost. if he and Steven are watching a horror movie together do not expect to enjoy it. They are having a Socratic seminar right next to you trying to understand what the hell is happening. Arche's smoke words keep accidentally blocking your vision. Alvin somehow knows whats happening and doesn't at the same time. Usually, the editing fucks her up. She asks where a character is and that character is dead. 15 minutes into a horror guess who the killer is movie she guesses who the killer is and gets it right. nobody knows how she does it.

Jamie is pretty self-explanatory. They kill people, they like when the people in the movie are killed. they used to HATE horror though. It took a lot of exposure for them to get to the point they are at though Darrell often hates the characters. He just does, he doesn't give a shit about them at all, so when they die he cheers. Lev is the EXACT same as Jamie, Often gives her ideas, which is bad but hey, am I gonna stop them? no. No i am not Lilyis is kinda like Cypress, She is hella curious about how they are doing this. She likes seeing both people die and the behind the scenes info of how they did that. AKA she's a Dead Meat fan

#ash speaks!!! #ash's beans #ash draws #oh god here we go #purity #dylan alnder #tom lantn #jett #victoria ravier #clementine #jessie #cypress #echo coello #bonnie #sam beaudraux #steven marco #hunter #arche #alvin #jamie #darrell woram #lev #lilyis #oh my god so many children in here #tumblr moots #teeth😊 #ryan divila

[there-are-many-ways-to-smile]

On reddit someone asked of Ashley and Emily are friends, and I thought this comment was interesting.

"They really did seem like friends until the bite fiasco happened. We see Ashley attempt to give Emily the benefit of the doubt as well as reassure Matt if she allows him to see Rmily and Mike talk. Emily shows concern for Ash as well as Chris when she and Matt runs into them after Josh’s apparent death. Ashley helps Sam bring Emily in after her escape from the mines. When the stranger walks in Emily can be seen with her hand on Ashley’s back, gently sitting her down. Emily is thankful to see Chris, Ash, and Mike if Chris lived outside or if Chris died she embraces Ashley and feels terrible about what happened.

Then Ashley suddenly freaks over one of the many injuries on Emily. I get that she is scared and panicked but goddamn would she calm down. One thing that makes me dislike Ashley for this is that she causes panic and stokes the fears of the others and leaves them questioning what was really said. She claims the stranger said they turn from eating each other. Not only does that not make sense but it’s not what he told them. Was she not paying attention? The stranger said a person has to commit cannibalism. That is completely different. Naturally everyone else, even Sam, starts questioning what was told to them. There was no reason to jump to that conclusion. The idea of giving Em the boot is Mike’s who’s also a pos in that scene, but the way Ashley hops on it is just gross. She starts treating Emily like a dirty animal. A rabid dog yelling at her to get lost. Aren’t they supposed to be friends?

Emily hasn’t done or said a bad thing to or about Ashley before this point. The hostility was crazy. And yes, her relationship with Mike drops to 0 if he murders Em, but if Mike doesn't execute Emily, Sam says he did the right thing. Ashley with a very bitter tone says “I hope you did”. That rubs me the wrong way the way she says that. The way she moves after Mike leaves is crazy spooky too lol. Idk I’ve seen a few people get weirded out at her movements during that part 😅.

The worst part of all of it tho is definitely when she considers hiding the truth to save face(haha) regardless of whether Emily was killed. Lying will drop her relationship with Sam to 0. That says a lot. There’s honestly no win for Ashley here. It’s either have Sam lose respect for her or have Emily hate her forever. If Ash does reveal the truth, she does seem to be really sorry about what just happened. Emily tho is furious and is well within her right to be so. She was nearly murdered by her friends and expect warm fuzzies? No way. Sam tries to diffuse things but fucks off probably realizing there’s no saving this relationship lol.

Emily tells Ash there’s no excuse to be made and she’s right. Ashley could have just listened to the stranger’s words clearly for starters. And the way she treated Emily for that brief moment was awful. No excuse. Emily walks away from her and Ash gets close again trying to tell Emily to understand. That’s when she loses it and strikes her down with one of the most iconic lines from the game. And can we talk about how if Emily is murdered, no one thinks to place her in a more dignified position😅?

Like can y’all close the EYE and mouth of your friend? Maybe lay her down on her back, cross her arms. Do something! Disrespectful leaving her slumped like that. Honestly a few deaths feels kinda odd, not just that one. Like how no one mentions Ashley’s random disappearance or Emily always act as if Matt never falls off the cliff instead defaulting to the tower collapse. Anyways, back on topic lol.

When they’re all running from the wendigos that Mike freed, the dumbass. Emily shoves Ashley which may be the worst thing she does because before then Emily never does anything evil like that. Like, ever. Some people pretend she does but she doesn’t. I don’t think this move was an attempt at Ashley’s life though. I really don’t think so. Do I still view it as a petty, vindictive, heinous act? As much as I love Em, yes. To me this feels like “you caused my life to be endangered so consider this payback”.

In short, they did seemed to be friends with no issue with one another but that ended when Ashley’s stupidity and hysteria nearly got Emily murdered." Written by a reddit user.

#pro emily davis #emily davis #until dawn emily #until dawn ashley #ashley brown #until dawn Ashley #until dawn #until dawn comments

[littlecarnet]

I got the best reply the other day on my fic!

I'm glad someone caught the thing with the Azure Flute and plates. Remember how one the team rocket members told her she will be forced to sing? Because Delia kinda IS like an Azure Flute. Her voice carries the same pitch and tone that only pokemon can pick up, especially Arceus. That's a dangerous ability if it were to fall into the wrong hands, say...maybe Volo?

And I'm glad that someone out there likes my portrayal of Delia because a lot of times as I write her, I think she's too out of character. I'm basing her off the anime but also the novelization by Takeshi Shudo (one of the head writers of the anime series). She's very motherly but can also be very young at heart. Very playful. Like in this part of the novel...

So I'm glad there are some people out there who like her in my fic. And yeah she is very badass! It's not easy raising a child on her own with ptsd from her past, losing a spouse, and worrying about said child is going down the same path her husband took that ended his life. Even harder when she has to go along with Ash's denial that his dad has passed on, but probably deep down he knows the harsh truth. Oh and the same organization that she was a part of is also trailing her son. Ugh this poor mother is so strong. Bless her.

Though in a way she does get blessed by Arceus traveling around with him. Even if she's unaware of who he is. And she's crushing on his human form. Haha! I think she'd be so shocked and embarrassed if she found out. Probably even more if she discovered those feelings are reciprocated. But could it work out long term? Who knows. Would be really cute if it did.

Aw man but what would Ash think of a god dating his mother? Somehow I think in his own weird way he'd be happy. Not just because his mom is happy, but imagine step-parent/child bonding by training in battles? Ash's whole team vs Arceus. I think he'd become a very strong trainer with a dad-god challenging him to be his best. Imagine if they teamed up as trainers to take on tournaments? Too cool!

Man and I love writing Cogita. She's one of my new favorite characters in the franchise. We don't see too much of her personality but seeing how she interacts with Volo, she's a witty woman. She doesn't suffer fools. That's why she can banter with Arceus when he neglected their friendship, but still cares about him. She'll be around for the next chapter as Arceus and her discuss Volo, but after that she'll be absent I'm afraid.

Omg I was so scared to add that part to the fic. I didn't know how it would be taken by others reading about Arceus experiencing arousal for the first time and then exploring that in a curious and innocent way. I was like " ummm should I add this? I know it'll add some perspective into his thoughts of his new body..." I still added it anyways but cut down a lot of the original draft of that. It was a bit more lengthy than the published piece. Even had a sketch of that but I'm too embarrassed to post it anywhere. I'm such a perv. XDD;;

One by one I'm converting people into DamosxArceus shippers! It's gonna be a thing even if I'm one of the few writers out there making content for it! I love their relationship whether people see it as platonic or romantic. They had such a special bond that I think gets totally forgotten in the fandom. I don't think that's fair.

#awesome reply to my fic! #i live for this kind of love #thank you thank you <3

[askclaireelford]

part 1: they are playing uno https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/askclaireelford/689819294302879744?source=share

now part 2.. who will win? let’s see

here’s reminder of their positions

anyways

sorry, noel... [skip his turn]

it’s ok..

[+4 wild card ashe] hahah.. red

siriuuus!!! quit being so mean!!

here’s your opportunity to get revenge, ashe [reverse]

oh, thank you wilardo!!!!!!!!!!

[+4 wild card sirius] blue!

wh..... you.... 

i will exact my revenge upon you. just you wait, ashe bradley.

..ahaha

sorry, sirius.. [put down a blue 7]

yeah.. [put down a blue 3]

[put down wild card] red

i have the perfect card for this.. [put down red +2]

ugh..

(it seems sirius is going to lose this game, huh..) [put down a red 5]

(sirius is losing.. it’s kinda funny though) [put down a red 2]

.. [skip ashe turn]

wh... wilardo!!!!

how could you betray me like this..

sorry ashe.. i had to

finally, a turn! [put down a red 8]

(oh no.. the only red card i have left is a skip.. but i don’t wanna skip claire’s turn...) [pulls a card]

(i don’t have another red one, either..) [pulls a card]

(oh!! a +4!!) um, sorry wilardo.. [+4 wilardo]

it’s fine

[+4 sirius again] aha! yellow (pretend that’s a +4 card)

you...! ugh! 

(sirius has a lot of cards..) [put down a yellow 9]

(well, sirius definitely isn’t gonna win..) [reverse]

oh.. um.. [put down yellow 3]

hahaha!! finally! thank you, claire! [+4 ashe]

sigh...

sorry about this, claire.. [+2 yellow to claire]

aw, it’s ok..

(oh no..) [put down yellow 5]

[+4 ashe again] hah

...

(looks like ashe and sirius are pretty much out of the game now with the amount of cards they have..) [put down blue 5]

[reverse]

!

oh.. uhhhh.. [put down blue 2]

[put down +4]

...

um... claire... i’m very very sorry about this... [+4 to her] ..blue

it’s ok noel..

(damn.. noel seems to feel really bad about doing that.. but i guess it’s just me and noel competing now since claire just got a bunch of cards..) [put down blue 6]

..sirius, neither of us are going to win this game, do you think we should just.. forfeit?

sure.. but don’t think i’ll forget about this.

[put down blue 2]

i’ll forfeit too.. but first!

[+4 to wilardo] win for me, noel!!

(i’m going to make part 3 because i’m scared that it will be too long to post if i put the rest on here)

#whnoc #claire elford #ashe bradley #wilardo adler #sirius gibson #noel levine #they are playing uno #IM SO SORRY IM SPLITTING IT UP #who will win? let's see

[lovenliterature]

Thoughts on Midnights

I did write this back when I first listened to Midnights but forgot to post it so some of my thoughts I don't know what I meant any more

Note - first two songs are technically second listen because of the FUCKING DAILY MAIL

1 - Lavender Haze

Really liked the vibe from the off

Not her usual style and I LOVE it

Definitely one to dance to

Really evocative of clubbing nights, that drunken time

No room for anything between one night stand/lifelong commitment (I oop v much my mindset but works for me I guess)

Acc the perfect song for this exact moment, need something to distract and also remind me not to care

“Damned if I do give a damn what people say” - Nice twist on damned if I do damned if I don't and so true

Lyric vid - cool - weird sauna vibes though and also a bit elaborate/distracting

Like the background surrounding the phrase lavender haze - also feels inherently queer to me given lavender scare/lavender menace and it’s nice to have a positive spin on that

Fave lyric: “I’ve been under scrutiny/you handled it beautifully"

2 - Maroon

"roommates cheap ass screw top rosé" - lolll relatable in like a oh fuck we're gonna be hungover and this is a disaster but also we're young and fuck it is its awful at least its cheap

Love love the vibe the tune everything

Love the red shades idea it’s so cute and beautiful

The depth in her voice on “how the hell did we lose sight of us again”

Lyric video: Like the skyline but text hard to read

Red imagery cool but again distracting

Fave lyric: “carnations you had thought were roses” or “that’s a real fucking legacy”

3 - Anti-Hero

upbeat contrast I like it

Fuck I need this song forever these rhymes are BEAUTIFUL

"It’s me hi I’m the problem it’s me" - wow this is so painful and raw

"Too big to hang out" - ow accurate 

"Directly at the sun but never in the mirror" - so so painful but so true, being able to commit to the self destruction but not being able to look at yourself

Also the emphasis on how much work it is for people to love you when you destroy it 

"Covert narcissism disguised as altruism" - genius line, clever and sonically satisfying

Only the young vibes

Fan of the sofa/scale imagery

Heavy music video but works better bc quite a dynamic and fast paced song

Fave lyric: "when my depression works the graveyard shift and all the people I've ghosted stand there in the room"

4 - Snow On The Beach

don’t love the initial bells kinda opening, interesting

Might grow on me though

Lyrics are hitting okay

"I’d never seen someone lit from within" - inner beauty, glowing

"It’s fine to fake it til you make it til you do" also again just what I needed to hear

(Maybe bold the lines I needed today haha)

Fave lyric: "time can’t stop me quite like you did"

5 - You’re On Your Own Kid

like the tempo and general vibe so far

"Sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes" - beautiful juxtaposition - the dousing vs the destruction

"Starved my body" so true, as much as you try to hurt yourself to please others all you'll accomplish is breaking yourself

"Blood soaked gown" - so evocative and hurts

Okay this is a heavy fave the further through we get 

"Yeah you can face this" - lovely lovely song progression

Fave lyric: "I touch my phone as if it's your face"

6 - Midnight Rain

WEIRD start but on second listen really really like it

Feels a bit like something from 1989 but can’t figure out what but that vibe

Love the distortiony rain vibe

“I broke his heart cuz he was nice”

“I wanted that pain” - such a theme of the album so far, self destruction and the self awareness behind it too

“All of me changed” - such a conflict in relationships when one of you is comfy and happy and one of you is slowly changing and being comfy isn’t enough

Comfy isn’t always love, isn’t always compatible 

Love love the lyric vid, such a nice visualiser and goes really well w the distortion

Fave lyric: "He wanted a bride, I was making my own name"

7 - Question…?

"Can I ask you a question" - oh ow that’s always so so loaded and so painful

"It’s just a question" - ooooooh I love that hands up run away from responsibility 

Bridge is so cool 

" Does it feel like everything's just like/second best after that meteor strike?" - Meteor strike!! So cute and wow ow

"I'm sure that's what’s suitable/and right" wow no holds barred saying everything you wanna say to an ex or a friend when they’re in the wrong relationship

Fave lyric: "don’t remember who I was/before you painted all my nights/a colour I've searched for since" or "fuckin' politics and gender roles"

8 - Vigilante Shit

Ready for it vibes

"You did some bad things but I’m the worst of them" - WOW

"Dressing for revenge" - oh my god ultimate breakup vibe

Crazy ex girlfriend vibes

No body no crime vibes

"He was doing lines and crossing all of mine" - twist of meaning love love love it

Fave lyric: "Don't get sad, get even"

9 - Bejeweled

vibe of "You wear the same jewels that I gave you" from my tears ricochet

"Putting someone first only works if you're in their top five" - oof this hits DEEP, value yourself and value others but don't value them significantly higher than they do you

Also mirrorball vibes

Love the chorus vibe

"Diamonds gotta shine" (gives me vibe of another t swift song but idk which, folklore/evermore I think)

Fave lyric: "Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve"

10- Labyrinth 

"I’ll be getting over you my whole life" - very first love, you never lose the love you have even if its not the same

"If it rises fast/it can’t last" - oop my relationships but also v much cam relationships 

Also doesn’t necessarily feel like just falling in love with a person but could be with a place or unhealthy thing

V heavy on distortion but the harmonies oh man

The repeated breaks are so clever, like this thing was made to break

When her voice goes deep that’s when it hits hardest

Fave lyric: "You would break your back to make me break a smile"

11 - Karma

Love the vibe

V revenge and dancy and a fuck you vibe

"Karmas a relaxing thought" - such a vibe when you've objectively been wronged

Love all of the diff descriptions

Love the bridge 

Love the reframing of karma as her boyfriend when they’ve often been referred to like that and it’s like a constant of her music it’s so interesting 

Fave lyric: "don’t you know that cash ain’t the only price"

12 - Sweet Nothing

love love the opening feels like it should be listened to by the fire w hot choc w rain outside

Sweet nothing vs sweet nothings (WOW THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE POST YOU'RE LOSING ME)

Too soft for all of it oh my god

This world hurts and that’s okay it’s allowed to I love the vulnerability 

Fave lyric: "I wrote a poem/You say "What a mind"/This happens all the time"

13 - Mastermind

 Like the vibe

Very cxg again

Love it when she flips accusations on their head and runs w them

"Born to be the pawn" - Probably meant to be read as her being forced to be the pawn but in my mind it's her happily playing the role just so she can be underestimated

"I’m the liquor in our cocktails" - I'm the fun and the spice in the relationship and maybe the danger, and maybe a little too much of me can turn these things sour

"No one wanted to play with me as a little kid/So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since" - love it, THEY pushed me to this and now I'm blamed? But I only try so hard because I want to be loved

Love the chorus

Fave lyric: "And the touch of a hand lit the fuse/Of a chain reaction of countermoves"

14 - The Great War

like the vibe so far

Surviving something and promising to be better after but there’ll always be another thing

"My knuckles were bruised like violets" - they were bruised but in a laudable way so view them as flowers, view them as romantic because it has to have been worth something

Also the support throughout and then growing about (note: no idea wtf I meant by this one ngl)

Love the vibe of bridge etc

"Soldier down on that icy ground/Looked up at me with honour and truth/Broken and blue" - he's on the ground and broen and blue, her injuries are on her fists so more active - interesting juxtaposition

"That was the night I nearly lost you" - such good subversion of expectation (loving the great war)

"Poppy in my hair" - Love the way she sings this line

"It was war it wasn’t fair" - subversion of all's fair in love and war but also things can be forgiven, it was war, it was never going to be fair and we shouldn't hold ourselves to peacetime standards

Fave lyric - "diesel is desire you were playing with fire"

15 - Bigger Than The Whole Sky

Love the vibe and emotion

"All over now" - sounds beautiful 

"You were more than just a short time" - you were worth something, your legacy lasts beyond the short time you were mine

Beautiful heartbreak song

Like the instrumental

Butterfly effect idea

"Did some force take you because I didn't pray" - lack of appreciation leading to leaving

Ashes motif again

Trying to say goodbye but not Acc over it

"What could've been, would've been, should've been you" - nice vibe, the heartbreak of never seeing someone growing into the person you saw them becoming

Fave lyric: "Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness"

16 - Paris

V bop freshers energy

Opening of lyric video good rest bit busy and on the nose

if u keep it just yours

Alcohol refs the whole atmosphere of being fucked out of your mind but drunk on love and in the love bubble

Fave lyric: "Cheap wine, make believe it's champagne"

17 - High Infidelity

Mario bros vibe lol

"Put in your headphones and burn my city" - the music as erasure and healing but also writing idea

"The slowest way is never loving them enough" - not meeting someone's needs is the slowest and saddest way to lose them, they're begging you but you can't be what they need

"He brought me back to life" - the idea of the infidelity as a way out

"Picket fence is sharp as knives" - the idea of the 2.5 kids dream as destructive and a dream u can’t reach

"Freeloading/I didn’t know you were keeping count" - the idea of love as transactional and when you start doing stuff for reciprocity you’ve fucked it

Depth of voice in "april 29th" lends significance and just sounds so nice

"Regret me" to "regret meeting me" - idea that it was always leading here

Fave lyric: "Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes"

18 - Glitch

First note sounds like smth from speak now

But anticlimactic following high infidelity

Underwhelming

It's chill enough though

"Go back to wanting dudes who give nothing"

Fave lyric: "I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch"

19 - Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

"Pain was heaven" - masochism of feeling anything and being in a relationship bc you must be an adult now even though it's brutal and painful

"Memories feel like weapons" - a breakup turns all memories sour and abusive partners can also twist anything to be a weapon

Love the lyricism

"Never whispered about this" - blaming herself, but I'm reading it as they could have never whispered about this (Would've probably found somethign else)

"Saved me from boredom" - the hindsight seeing the toxicity of something that felt like adulthood and safety but in reality left a trail of hurt

"Now that I’m grown I’m scared of ghosts" the lasting effect of young relationships

Ignorance is bliss

"I regret you all the time" - legacy still not gone

Fave lyric: "Damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at 19" and "Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first"

20 - Dear Reader

The direct address is fun

Being told explicitly what to read into things

Telling us to find another hero while showcasing unhealthy coping mechanisms ("fourth drink in my hand")

Fave lyric: "If it feels like a trap/You're already in one"

#ts10 #midnights #my thoughts on midnights #my thoughts on music #music #taylor swifts lyrics #taylor swift #my writing #album review

[rekikiri]

what are some unpopular opinions you have about jujutsu kaisen and sk8? :0

okay idk how unpopular this would be for jjk, I don’t like mai (at least not at the point im at). I completely understand her reasons for how she feels betrayed by maki, but i don’t like the idea of people basically being like, “why would you leave me here? you should’ve stayed with me even though it would’ve been awful. at least we’d have each other.”

why not leave too? and if you’re too scared to, why would you WANT someone you love to stay if they dont want to be stuck there?

don’t get me wrong, I can understand her feelings, but it’s something that rubs me the wrong way. (it’s kinda like blanca in banana fish questioning why ash would want to try to get away from dino because, “you could’ve had everything.” or, attack on titan when people would say they’d be just fine living within the walls forever so why should anyone else want to try to find what’s out there?)

okay enough about that part. summary: I don’t hate mai, but it gets on my nerves that she’s mad at maki for getting out and would’ve rather her stayed and been miserable.

as for sk8…idk if I have an unpopular opinion for it?

this is more of a headcanon but I think that reki and langa would benefit from discussing their feelings about the fight more. because they made up and everything, but I think that it could’ve led to some issues that could come up later. I think langa would have abandonment issues, so reki avoiding him probably freaked him out.

as for reki, I think he’d be stressed worrying that langa will break promises, and would need to rebuild that trust. he might have a hard time trusting langa when he says he won’t do dangerous things because he could do it again.

langa can be really reckless, so that probably makes reki anxious wondering what if langa broke a promise not to do something and gets hurt? and reki isn’t exactly great at handling his feelings and just shuts them down and avoids them, so langa probably gets anxious when reki gets quiet or at all distant thinking he’s going to leave him again.

obviously it’s just an anime and it’s generally supposed to be lighthearted, but I think if it weren’t as overall happy vibes that there would be more consequences to that and would realistically need time before they get back to where they were before (but when they do, they’d be closer than ever).

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sk8 the infinity

[ask-the-arrow-of-justice]

Poyo! - *Kirby runs to the dining hall and starts inhaling food*

“Oh my.... you’re a hungry little guy aren’t you? Just please try to leave enough for everyone else....”

//Seteth is gonna be mad lmaooo//

#ashe fire emblem #ashe ubert #fire emblem three houses ask blogs #fire emblem three houses #Ashe is kinda scared but in awe too #Kirby

[eddieismypimp]

Where you been at?

Fezco x black reader

Summary: you don’t feel good so you stay in bed all day with your phone on DND, fez gets worried

warnings: cussing

Today has been an awful day. You don’t know if you’ve caught a cold or if it’s just your allergies acting up, either way, it’s kicking your ass. On top of that, you were on your period, and it’s conveniently so much worse than normal. So needless to say, you haven’t gotten outta bed. Even though you’ve been laying down all day, it’s been very restless for you. You can’t find a comfortable position, and when you do, you automatically have to pee. It got to the point where you damn near wanted to cry, but you finally got up and decided to take some NyQuil. Finally, after some time you felt the sweet release of sleep. You had your phone on do not disturb all day and didn’t realize that you’re sweet boyfriend had been trying to call you and text you to see if you wanted to stay over at his tonight. Fez got extremely worried after he tried to call you for the 8th time and you didn’t pick up. He sent you like, 20 messages and you didn’t respond to any of them. It was nearing 4 p.m. when he finally had enough. He sent a few more messages before deciding to go over to your house to see if you were there.

fezzy<3: where tf are you y/n, im getting worried..

fezzy<3: baby, I’m for real worried, please answer

fezzy<3: im coming over, I really hope you’re at home..

“Ash, I’ll be back.” He told his brother picking up his car keys. “I’m going to see if y/n is at home, she hasn’t answered all day.”

“Fezco, she’s probably just sleeping.” Ash said. Of course he worried about you too but he would never show it.

“I don’t care, im gonna go check on her.” Fez said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.” Ash replied, going back to the show he was watching.

Fez got in his car and drove to your house. When he arrived, he sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the sight of your car. Thank god. He thought to himself. He put his car in park and knocked on your door, praying you would answer.

You got woken up to the sound of someone knocking.

“Uggggh, are you fucking kidding me?” You thought out loud. You slowly and carefully got outta bed so you didn’t trigger your raggedy ass cramps. The knocking still continued. “I’m coming bruh give me a second.” You said, still not entirely sure who would be knocking on your door right now. You opened it to see a worried looking fez and your gaze immediately softened. “Oh, hey, what’s up?” You said to him.

“Where you been at girl?” He asked as his eyes trailed over your body and you realized you looked like you were fresh out of a dumpster.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, concern lacing his voice as he walked inside your house.

“No, I’m not.” You said sadly. “I haven’t felt good all day.”

“That explains a lot, I was trying to call you all day and I was getting really worried.” He said pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead. “I missed you.” He admitted.

“Im sorry I worried you.” You said laying your head on his chest. “I missed you too.”

“Wanna come stay with me tonight?” He asked you.

“I do really want to but I don’t want to get you or ash sick, i don’t know if it’s contagious.” You said.

“Well, I want you to come stay so you should get some stuff ready.” He said kissing you on the top of your head.

“Okay.” You said, going to get an overnight bag.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

“Yeah, kinda.” You said putting your stuff in the bag, not forgetting your phone charger and bonnet.

“When we get home I’m gonna make you some food.” He said. “I just want you to lay down and rest, imma take care of you.”

You smiled at him. “You don’t have to do that babe.”

“I know, but I want to.” He said coming up behind you to hug you. He leaned his head on your back. “I missed you so much, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You laughed. “I’m sorry that me laying in bed and dying is an inconvenience to you.” You said, turning to give him a proper hug.

“Yeah, it sure the fuck is, don’t do it again.” He said in a playful way. “Now come on baby, let me go take care of you.”

“Okay.” You said giving him a kiss before pulling away to grab your bag.

You don’t know how you got so lucky.

#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #imagines #euphoria #fezco supremacy #fezco euphoria #fezco #fezco x you #fezco fanfic #fezco blurb #fezco fluff #fezco one shot #fezco x reader #fezco fic #fezco imagine #ashtray euphoria #ashtray