#beat international magazine

[rizsu]

he's married ?! nanami kento.

sum. he's easily the top most handsome guy within his job. his relationship status is unknown, so what happens when his co-workers ship him with a female worker?

nanami is well known within his company. tall, insanely fit, and an attractive voice. it's not uncommon for men and women alike to find themselves thinking about him often. what's not common is knowing about his love life. no one knows anything and he would've kept it that way. but when push comes to shove, and you're shipped with someone who's not your beloved, nanami will make it known that he's not only taken but married.

in the coffee-break room there are three guys. now, there's nothing unusual about this — no, no. they're just three guys that are co-workers... except there's a twist. they aren't your regular co-workers, they're your uncommon trio of male gossipers and nanami just so happened to be their newest victim.

"shh, shh! he's here," guy one, tichi, whispers to the others, raising his eyebrows and pointing his chin to nanami's position.

the other two take a quick glance, nodding their heads when they've seen nanami's back faced towards them. it's a perfect moment to strike up a conversation, especially since it's just four men here.

guy two, tacho, shuffles his feet to the empty space near nanami. he pretends to open a sugar packet, fiddling with it as his eyes peep over nanami's shoulder. his heart skips multiple beats when the man himself turns around.

"morning to you, tacho," nanami greets, nodding his head before he turns his attention back to his cup of coffee.

"y-yeah, morning!" he stutters, awkwardly smiling in return. he turns his head to the other two in the background, mouthing the word 'help' to them. unfortunately, they do not give the aid to their friend. instead, tichi fakes a series of coughs and guy three, toeny, gives him a confident double thumbs up. there's no hope, tacho sighs.

it's a silent moment between the men — only the sounds of coffee brewing and a spoon coming into contact with the mug can be heard. tacho's mouth itches him, he happened to remember his group's recent conversation about nanami. he must ask — even if it costs him a mutual co-worker.

"so, nanami," he begins, waiting for nanami to give him the undivided attention.

nanami doesn't face him, but he hums in response. tacho doesn't mind this as an answer, so he continues, "i was wondering if the rumors of you being with the new worker, yeri, are true?"

there is one big lie in that question: there are no such rumors. it's just a theory the trio has been gossiping about every night. nanami's been helping out yeri for quite some time, one can only think that they have a special connection going on.

"that is bullshit," nanami gives a firm answer. nothing more, nothing less.

tacho's stunned, he blinks a few times to recollect himself. "oh — so you're not with her?"

nanami doesn't answer yet, but the two in the back give their unwanted reactions. tichi clicks his tongue three times, shaking his head in disappointment at tacho's second question. it's obvious dumbass, he thinks. toeny, on the other hand, presses his lips in a thin line, pretending to read a magazine that's been on the counter.

nanami reaches into his pocket, whipping out his phone. the trio's confused until nanami speaks.

"i am married man. this is my wife," he educates, pressing the power button to show you as his lockscreen.

he collects three gasps, internally nodding at their shock. that's right, i'm gladly taken.

"all this time you've been... MARRIED?!" tacho's voice heightens, he drops his spoon in shock. it's unbelievable yet somewhat believable.

nanami breathes out a 'yes', raising his arm to show the wristwatch. "she bought this for our five-years anniversary recently. it's quite expensive, going over four-thousand," he brags, emphasizing on key words.

he's been waiting for the precious day where someone indirectly asks for his relationship status. the day has come and he will spend it bragging about his beloved.

nanami doesn't give them a chance to speak, he carries on with his bragging, "she's a very lovely woman. all my bentos are made by her and she writes little notes for each. some may think it's childish but that's bullshit! they just haven't experienced the love of a woman. matter of fact, her most beautiful moments are when she's freshly awake. the smile she gives me is nothing but angelic."

his speech doesn't stop there, but it did for the trio. his words went in one ear and out the next. nanami's blabbering about his wife immediately set a blank face upon tichi, tacho, and toeny. they're jealous and also surprised.

"the way a woman can change a man will never not be amazing," toeny whispers, blankly gazing at nanami's ongoing speech.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen. #tic tac toe ( tichi tacho toeny ) #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami drabbles #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk x fem!reader #nanami x you

[bloomries]

our compatibility is... 0%!?

includes : the demon brothers (lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor).

summary : you come across one of those 'compatibility' quizzes and decide to take it as a joke— only for the results to end up saying you two are NOT perfect for each other!? what!?

warnings : gn! reader, insecurities.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Lucifer

Lucifer had always been very popular with his good looks, so you really weren't all that surprised to see the Devildom heartthrob on a magazine cover with the promise of a compatibility quiz inside. You decided to buy it just for laughs.

"Must you really?" He sighs, shaking his head at your childish antics. Lucifer, however, couldn't deny the little bit of excitement he felt knowing you'd score a perfect 100- except as you circled your answered and tallied up your score...

Lucifer scoffed, taking the magazine and putting on his reading glasses. Well this is just ridiculous! He shook his head, tossing the magazine to the side. "What do those idiots know anyways?" He glances at you, hoping you weren't too upset by the results, only for him to see you giggling. Were you happy with the results, or perhaps are you laughing at him?

Seeing his mood begin to sour at both of those thoughts, you rest your head on his shoulder and take hold of his hand. "We seem to have a habit of beating the odds, don't we?"

Oh? So that's what made you so happy? Knowing that you two some how managed to fall so deeply in love, despite being opposites, despite the odds being pitted against you two time and time again? Yes, he concludes internally, your love was extraordinary.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Mammon

"Look, your super hot boyfriend is on the cover of this months magazine." He says, throwing down the magazine in front of you. You quirk a brow, forgetting earlier this month about his photoshoot, and flipped through the pages, smiling at the sight of him.

"You look very handsome," You coo, leaning up to give him a kiss before you flipped to that page. Mammon instantly grew hot in the face and tried to snatch the magazine back but it was too late, your interest was piqued.

"Ohoho? What's this? A dating quiz?" You wiggle brows, answering the questions in your head.

"Give it back, 's embarrassin'!" He whined, still trying to get it but it's too late, you've turned the page to get your answer and-

"Wha- we aren't compatible!?" You turn to face Mammon with a frown, giving him the magazine back.

"Wait what?!" Finally he snatches the magazine from you and reads the questions before frowning as he flips to the answer page and, "'m not even compatible with myself?" You both share a look before an eased laughter fill the room. "Who even came up with these questions 'n answers? My favorite thing is obviously-"

"Grim?"

"You!... But then grim, yeah."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Leviathan

You had just been sent a link by an anonymous number, and seeing Levi's name in the link had you curious, so you opened it and was brought to a quiz on... how compatible are you and the third born, leviathan!

Peeking over at Levi who was still farming for materials on his phone, you decided to take the silly little quiz. You felt pretty confident in your answers, knowing him best. It wasn't until the 'YOU TWO ARE TOTALLY INCOMPATIBLE' screen came up that you gasped, catching Levi's attention.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, brows furrowed a little. You blink, before forcing a smile and nodding.

"Yeah, totally, everything is perfect!" You say, exiting out of the quiz and moving to cuddle up with him. "You know I love you, right?" He blushes, looking away and nodding.

"Y- Yeah, I do... I love you too..." His voice grows more and more quiet until you barely hear him- but you know what he says. You giggle, pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

"Good! 'Cause no matter what anyone says, we're a perfect match~" Levi tenses, before whipping his head around to look at you, tears in his eyes.

"Did... Did someone say we're not?" Deciding to not make him worry anymore, you shake your head, making plans to block the unknown number but not before telling them how terrible their quiz is.

"No, don't you worry~" Thankfully, he relaxes after that- and the quiz is taken down shortly after your complaint.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Satan

"Oh, what are you doing?" Satan asked, peeking over your shoulder to look at your computer. He read the title of the quiz and to say the least, he pulled a seat up next to you. "A dating quiz, hm?"

"I like reading the scenarios that go with it. I always get you, of course." You say, rather proudly, as you click the last question. "See, I got-!? I got Mammon!?" You can almost hear the way Satan's jaw clenches.

"Well, it's all in good fun." He says, but his expression betrays his nonchalant words.

"This doesn't usually happen," You clarify, scrolling down, "watch you'll be in second place-... or last..." You mumble, seeing you didn't get a single answer right for the 'Satan' choice. "Not all quizzes are created equally, this one is obviously a bad quiz so- where are you going?"

The sinister aura he's carrying makes a chill run down your spine, and fear for whoever has to face his wrath. "I just remembered I have to pay Mammon a visit."

"It doesn't have anything to do with this quiz though, right?"

"..."

"Right?"

He clears his throat, a little blush forming on his cheeks, "I'll be going now."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Asmodeus

"Look what came out today~" Asmo says as he jumps into bed beside you, giggling as he flips through the pages and admiring himself. "Don't I look good enough to eat?" He asks, showing you the pictures.

"Oh, you look amazing, Asmo!" You take the magazine and flip through a few more pages of him. He truly was gorgeous and such an amazing model.

"And~" Asmo says in a sing-songy way, flipping the page to a specific number, "Look at this, a dating quiz." Pink hearts surrounded the questions and several adorable pictures of Asmo decorated the page. "So, how compatible are we? 100 percent? 1000 percent? A million?"

"Uhmm..." Quickly answering the questions honestly, you frown. "Zero."

"Zero!?" He snatches it back from you, looking over the questions and answers. "H- How could you possibly get a zero? We're soulmates!" He whines, leaning into you.

"Well, it's just a silly magazine quiz, I wouldn't read too much into it." Asmo was clearly not satisfied with this though, as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Honey, what are you doing?" You ask, hesitant because you hadn't seen him this worked up since they claimed his hot pink leopard print outfit wasn't 'cozy chic'.

"Obviously calling the magazine and telling them they made an error with the compatibility quiz! We'll just have them change all the right answers to whatever yours were." As sweet as that is, you take the phone away from him and help him get it off of his mind with some kisses.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Beelzebub

"Beel this is serious," You whine, "We aren't compatible!" Beelzebub furrows his brows. You're really that upset about the dating quiz? He sets his food down and turns to look at you, smiling weakly.

"But we are compatible."

"Well not according to that quiz!" Beel frowns. If he could, he's get rid of the quiz all together and tell you a million times over that you two are the most compatible people to ever exist, but he can't do the first part so...

"But we are." He says, "We don't need a quiz to tell us what we are or aren't." He takes a bite of his food, before continuing, "I can't imagine wanting to be with anyone else, ever."

Your quietness didn't go unnoticed by Beelzebub, who worries maybe he said the wrong thing. He offers you a fry as a peace treaty, and you take it, although you don't eat it right away.

"Beel?"

"Yeah?"

"You're right. I also... can't imagine being with anybody else either, so..." you take a bite of the fry, "let's just forget about that dumb, dumb quiz." He chuckles, agreeing easily.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Belphegor

"Maybe we aren't compatible 'cause you're annoying, that's why, now leave me alone." He whines, swatting his hand at you to try and shoo you away. You huff, not giving in as you ask him how he'd answer one of the quiz questions. When he gave the same answer as you you were resolute in your conclusion that this quiz was simple wrong. Belphie didn't really seem to care though.

"You're so rude." You say, "If it were the other way around you'd be all clingy and whining and saying how we're so compatible."

"Well I wouldn't fail the compatible quiz." He states matter-of-factly, turning around to face you. "Anyways," he rips the magazine from you and crumples the paper up, "not like these dumbasses know me any better than you do." He throws the paper over his shoulder and looks up at you. "So will you quit whining already?"

"So you think we're compatible?"

"If I say yes will you go to sleep already."

"Belphie!"

"Ugh! Yes, I think we're more compatible than anybody else in all three realms, and I really mean it, okay? So now just, c'mere, and go to sleep!" He lifts his arm and you snuggle in close to him, your happiness radiating off of you. "Stop smiling it's creeping me out."

"You looove me~"

"Yeah, yeah..."

(Seems your smiling was infectious, as Belphie fell asleep with a very content smile on his lips)

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om imagines #om headcanons #omswd x reader #omswd imagines #omswd headcanons #obey me fluff #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

[venuzasmuse]

I WISH YOU WERE A BOY [bestfriend!ellie]

(id love to credit whoever made this divider but irdk who did i’m sorry 😭😭)

warnings: (not proofread i wrote this in like 15 mins lol) ANGST ANGST ANGST, hints at religious trauma, religious parents, internalized homophobia if you squint

author’s note: i wrote this based off of a situationship i had 😭 def not projecting…… also y’all should totally listen to keep on loving you by cigarettes after sex (i listened to it while writing this so hopefully it’ll set the tone)

best friend!ellie who you met for the first time in your sophmore year of highschool. you had just transferred to a small all girls catholic high school in the outskirts of austin, texas having had just moved states. you were quiet and completely out of ellie’s extroverted vicinity of a personality. yet, they say opposites attract and you two were pulled together like magnets.

best friend!ellie who taught you the ropes of everything you knew. from your music taste down to the smallest complimentary accessories you infiltrated into your style. you were completely immersed with love for her that it nearly swallowed you whole. anyone you ever met would have to know her to truly understand you. y’all were just that close.

best friend!ellie who comforted you the first time you got your heart broken by some stupid boy you met at a football game. he began to pursue you and practically begged to take you out. “be ready at 7” he proposed with boyish charm and you couldn’t help but to be swooned, as any naïve teenage girl would. yet 8 rolled around the corner, and the only thing sweeping you off your feet was the feeling of rain droplets beating down on your hair and a pit of embarrassment that coiled in your stomach as you stood in a pretty white dress on the corner of a cafe. the only person to show up for you was ellie who was at your beck and call whenever you needed her.

best friend!ellie who sat with you in her car for nearly 30 minutes as the rain beat down on her windowsills. she wiped away at the mascara mixed tears on your cheek and an unfamiliar feeling began to unravel in your gut as she went on a rant about how perfect you were and how you didn’t need the guy whose name you couldn’t even seem to recall anymore.

best friend!ellie who was the only girl you realized made you feel this way and it scared you. you always knew you weren’t completely straight but this set everything in stone for you. yet, admitting it out loud was the last thing you wanted to do. it would only make the situation all the more real to you and you didn’t know how much of that you could handle.

best friend!ellie who made your stomach churn every single time she’d bring up another girl romantically in front of you. she’d ramble about some girl she was talking to and you couldn’t do anything but suck it up and pretend like you were happy for her but deep down you hated it. all of it. all you wanted to do was bury yourself in the grave you dug because you didn’t want to ruin anything between the two of you. ellie williams was the only person who had enough of you to completely tear you apart.

best friend!ellie who read your body language better than anyone else. your parents were spewing unsolicited comments about some taboo magazine about a same-sex couple one day while she was at your house. her head was rested atop your leg as you tried to drown out your parent’s conversation. your gaze fell on her and you smiled apologetically wanting to block out the rest of the world in that moment.

best friend!ellie who you smoked your first joint with as y’all snuck out of your parent’s house and to a nearby park across town. giggling and low eyed, y’all talked about the stupidest things as y’all shared a pair of cheap earbuds. the moon gleamed brighter than it usually did that night and cigarettes after sex blared through the earbuds lodged in your ears as you realize then you were in love with ellie williams.

best friend!ellie who laughed and asked why you were staring at her that way. “i wish you were a boy.” you said without thinking. maybe it was the way the light reflected off her freckled face or the way the drug coursed through your system, but the words slipped faster out your mouth before your brain could process them. her brows furrow and green eyes dance over you features searching for any type of emotion that emitted from your expression. “what?”

best friend!ellie who kept trying to get in touch with you ever since that night. you were relentlessly drowning yourself in shame and embarrassment. the remembrance of what you said made you feel foolish. but no amount shame can mask the guilt you felt every time you remembered the way ellie’s face fell as soon as you said what you did. you couldn’t say anything else after. all you did was brush it off and insist y’all go back home. the walk back was silent and tension brewed between the proximity of the two of you.

best friend!ellie who called you again at 11 pm in attempt to talk about that night. you were about to decline it but your guilt ate away at you. you agreed to meet her on your porch to talk. you planned on apologizing for both saying what you did and avoiding it. “i didn’t mean it. i was just high.” the excuse played on a loop inside your head. you were set on just leaving the situation and your feelings for her in a puddle of voided nothingness but closure didn’t come easy for you when she was actually in front of you now.

best friend!ellie who sat patiently outside your house. she was clad in a black sweatshirt, washed out blue jeans, and the same dirty converses she wore daily. she spared you a familiar smile as you sat down next to her trading her one as well.

best friend!ellie who watched as you began to fumble over your explanation in a panic. “i don’t know why i said that. god, i’m so stupid i’m so sorry.” you sniffled and gentle hands pulled you into a soft hug. for the first time in a week, you let yourself fall apart in her embrace and somehow, everything you thought you felt began to disperse. it was in that moment, that you accepted you would’ve loved her either way. whether she was a boy or a girl. it didn’t matter to you as long as you got the same soul in whatever body she was in. pulling away from her arms, your hand snakes over the nape of her neck as you press a kiss on her lips and she returns the energy reverently.

#don’t fall for straight girls like me guys 😞🤞 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #the last of us #angst with a happy ending #angst #light angst #kinda sad #SoundCloud

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

A prominent women’s chess player has accused a fellow player of rape and sexual harassment as she warned a “toxic culture“ of misogyny and sexually predatory behaviour plagues the chess community.

Sabrina Chevannes, a women's international chess master, said she was raped at a chess tournament by another contestant.

The 36-year-old, who quit professional chess in January 2017, told The Independent the incident happened when she was black-out drunk as a teenager.

She added: “I woke up in the linen room of the hotel on a table. I was in so much pain. I didn’t quite understand what had happened.

“While playing chess I was in so much pain I could barely sit down. Him and his friends were high-fiving about it.”

Ms Chevannes, who won ten British chess titles, said sexual harassment, sexual assault or discrimination against women has taken place at every chess tournament she has ever attended.

She has endured racism from fellow chess players, with people often assuming she had cheated when she did well in tournaments, she added.

She told of an incident at a chess tournament when a man who was a chess master groped her.

“I was 11 years old,” she recalled. “I wanted to have a picture with him because he was famous in this world. He posed for the picture but did this thing where he put his hand down my back touching my butt. Then he turned around and winked at me.”

She encountered him again at another chess event when she was a teenager where he told her he had seen her on the front of a chess magazine, she added.

“He said ‘You are developing so well’. I said ‘I was at my best rating’, and he said ‘No, I don’t mean developing like that’,” Ms Chevannes recalled.

“He said he may need another copy of the magazine as he said he had worn his down with all the night time reading. He looked at me in a creepy, lecherous manner. When he met me when I was 18, he said ‘now you are legal in all countries’.”

The former player said she would actively avoid tournaments where he was playing. She noted he sexually propositioned her a few years ago - asking her to go back to his hotel room.

Ms Chevannes said: “He used very racist misogynistic language to my face.”

She told of another incident where a different chess player offered to let her sleep in his hotel room as she was tired from her flight but couldn’t check into her room until mid-afternoon.

“He wasn’t in the room when I was sleeping but I woke up to find one hand down my pants and one hand in my bra,” she added. “He did the same thing again when I was in the same house as him and lots of others in the chess community.”

Ms Chevannes, who now coaches chess, said she did not report any of the aforementioned incidents to the police at the time as others warned her she would not be believed.

But she explained social media posts she recently shared about her alleged experiences had been seen by the police who are now looking into her claims.

Female chess players have come forward in recent weeks to make allegations of sexual assault, violence and harassment from male players.

Earlier in the month, 14 of France's top female players wrote an open letter, “denouncing the sexist or sexual violence they have suffered” in the chess community, with over 100 women in chess signing the letter in the space of only five days.

Ms Chevannes described the chess community as an “insular world” with a rigid hierarchy where people are judged by their chess abilities and women are perpetually belittled.

“Women are seen as inferior, they genuinely believe men are superior to women in every way - including intellectually,” she added. “If you beat someone, it's described as you raped them.”

[dailyhistoryposts]

A Rundown of Henry Kissinger's Life

“Once you’ve been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands. You will never again be able to open a newspaper and read about that treacherous, prevaricating, murderous scumbag sitting down for a nice chat with Charlie Rose or attending some black-tie affair for a new glossy magazine without choking. Witness what Henry did in Cambodia – the fruits of his genius for statesmanship – and you will never understand why he’s not sitting in the dock at The Hague next to Milošević. While Henry continues to nibble nori rolls and remaki at A-list parties, Cambodia, the neutral nation he secretly and illegally bombed, invaded, undermined, and then threw to the dogs, is still trying to raise itself up on its one remaining leg.”

--Anthony Bourdain (2018)

It's difficult to be precise, but all told Henry Kissinger killed hundreds of thousands of civilians in pursuit of American business interests.

EARLY LIFE

Henry Kissinger was born in 1923 as Heinz Kissinger in Fürth, Bavaria, Germany, to a German-Jewish family. Throughout his youth, he was relentlessly and violently harassed and discriminated against by members of the Hitler Youth and authorities. At the age of 15, Kissinger and his family fled Nazi Germany, settling in New York City. He finished high school at George Washington High School in NYC and began studying accounting at the City College of New York, but his undergraduate studies were interrupted in 1943 when he was drafted into the US army.

In the army, fluent German speakers were in short supply, so Kissinger was quickly assigned to military intelligence. During the American invasion of Germany, he worked to set up civilian administration of conquered cities and tracked down Gestapo officers as a Special Agent of the Counter Intelligence Corps. He received the Bronze Star Medal

After his time in the army, Kissinger returned to his studies. He graduated summa cum laude in political science from Harvard College, as well as his Masters and PhD. He taught at Harvard, and his studies focused on international 'legitimacy', when an international order is widely accepted by international leaders, without regard to public opinion or morality.

POLITICS

Beginning in the 1950s, Kissinger began to be more active on the political stage. He was a consultant for the National Security Council and a study director for the Council of Foreign Relations. He notably was against Eisenhower's massive retaliation nuclear doctrine, where the United States would respond to a nuclear attack with a much, much greater nuclear attack. Instead, Kissinger advocated the use of tactical nuclear weapons on a regular basis in more wars.

In the 1960s, Kissinger began working with Republicans running for office as an advisor in foreign affairs. He contributed to the Nixon campaign, and when Nixon took office in 1969, Kissinger was appointed as National Security Advisor, and later Secretary of State. As a diplomat, Kissinger heavily used Realpolitik, the in-fashion Cold War approach focusing on pragmatism and realistic outcomes rather than ideological or moral purity. In international politics, it largely has to do with obtaining and maintaining power on the world stage.

Kissinger focused on relaxing US tensions with the USSR and China, leading an American foreign policy that supported Taiwan on the face but in the shadows removed all support for Taiwan and essentially waited for it to fall apart.

In 1974, he directed the National Security Study Memorandum 200: Implications of Worldwide Population Growth for U.S. Security and Overseas Interests (NSSM200), sometimes called the "Kissinger Report" the official United States policy for many years, though it remained classified until the 1990s. The Kissinger Report advocated for population control in undeveloped nations to ensure easy resource extraction and protect American business interests abroad. Projects were designed to reduce fertility while keeping up the appearance of improving quality of life--the plan specifically attempted to avoid an appearance of "economic or racial imperialism". Birth rate was particularly noted due to concerns about an adequate global food supply and because young people more readily fight back against corruption and imperialism. The Report also brought up increasing abortion rates as a method of obtaining this goal.

In 1975, policies based on the Report went into affect. The National Security Council would recommend withholding food and using military force to prevent population growth, prioritizing aid for small families, and even paying people to get sterilized. Thirteen countries were named as particularly problematic to US interests. Of note, Nigeria lost development and the United States took control of Nigerian resources, and the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) was responsible for some of the 300,000 forced sterilizations in Peru--largely impoverished or indigenous women--during the Fujimori administration. The Fujimori government has been accused of crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court for these abuses, and today the Peruvian economy suffers due to the low population resulting from these sterilizations.

ACTIONS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA

The Vietnam War had started back in 1955. Kissinger had originally supported it, but as time dragged on began to view it as harming American prestige. Kissinger leaked information about peace talks to get into power at Nixon's side, and then failed to end the war in 1972, leading to the Christmas bombings. A very similar agreement was signed the next month, leading to a ceasefire (that would collapse) and the withdrawal of American troops--bitterly seen as a betrayal by South Vietnam. When Kissinger and Vietnamese diplomat Lê Đức Thọ were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for this, Thọ declined to accept it and two members of the Nobel Committee left it in protest.

It was in the middle of the Vietnam War, and during the Cambodian Civil War, that Operation Menu and Operational Freedom Deal went into play. From March 1969 to May 1970, the United States Strategic Air Command carried out a series of first tactical and then carpet bombings in eastern Cambodia. Then, from May 1970 to August 1973, the United States provided close air support and widespread bombing. Part of a 'secret' war to support the Kingdom of Cambodia/Khmer Republic against communist rebels, it ultimately failed and the communists would take power in 1975.

In the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971, Nixon and Kissinger supported the Pakistani president Yahya Khan. It was in this that the strongest dissent in the history of the U.S. Foreign Service, the Blood Telegram (named after sender Archer Blood), was sent. It reports the US was about to lose, describes systemic abuses, and uses the word 'genocide' to describe the actions by US-supported Pakistan. It said the US government was morally bankrupt. Blood was recalled early from Bangladesh, and US interests were lost when Bangladeshi Independence was secured within the year.

MIDDLE EASTERN POLICY

Kissinger was originally excluded from any policy-making on Israel, as part of Nixon's orders to exclude all Jewish-Americans from such work. Still, in 1973, when Kissinger became Secretary of State, he was included in all US Middle Eastern policy. This means he was largely responsible for the handling of the Yom Kippur War--this handling included not noticing precipitating factors leading up to it (he was so engrossed in Paris peace talks he didn't notice the Egyptian President Sadat ready to move on Sinai), delaying telling Nixon about and stalled negotiating a ceasefire, hoping Israel would push across and fully obtain the Suez Canal.

Kissinger's diplomacy included giving equipment to Israel, but not as much as he'd promised, and selling weapons to Saudi Arabia at the same time, in exchange for access to Saudi Arabian oil. By largely handling to event and not involving France or the United Kingdom, and by minimizing the power of the Soviet Union, Kissinger took large steps in giving US power over much of the Middle East.

It should be noted that this was done purely to protect US interests rather than any form of Jewish security. When questioned about the persecution of Soviet Jews at the same time, Kissinger said

"The emigration of Jews from the Soviet Union is not an objective of American foreign policy, and if they put Jews into gas chambers in the Soviet Union, it is not an American concern. Maybe a humanitarian concern."

-Henry Kissinger (1973)

Also in the region., Kissinger supported Iran against Iraq.

TURKISH INVASION OF CYPRUS

In 1974, the Greek military regime and Turkiye invaded the island of Cyprus. The military regime had been supported by Kissinger, and anti-Kissinger sentiment was strong among young people. Cyprus is now an independent island country, though its northeast portion is de facto separate, making up the self-declared Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. Kissinger considers his own handling of the Cyprus Issue unfavorably.

LATIN AMERICA

With Kissinger's influence, the United States maintained relations with non-left-wing governments regardless of commitment to democracy. It was with Kissinger's input that the CIA encouraged a military coup against Chilean president-elect Salvador Allende due to his socialist ideals.

Operation Condor, a US-backed program of political repression by right-wing dictatorships of southern South America, was also Kissinger's work. It included assassinations, the Dirty War in Argentina, and supporting Brazil's nuclear weapons program because it would benefit the U.S. private nuclear industry.

SOME OTHER STUFF

Kissinger's policy on post-WWII decolonization was mixed, based on what would benefit the U.S. He helped transition Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) away from White minority rule, expressed moderate support for the Portuguese Colonial Empire, and helped Indonesia occupy East Timor.

After Watergate forced Nixon to resign, Kissinger stayed on under President Ford but left office when Democrat Jimmy Carter came into power. He was offered an endowed chair at Columbia University, which was canceled due to student opposition, but was appointed to Georgetown University instead. He ran a consulting firm, supported the Chinese government in the Tiananmen Square massacre, and served on the 2000 Commission of the International Olympic Committee. He was supposed to help President Bush respond to the 9/11 attacks but stepped down because he refused to reveal if he had a business conflict of interest.

In 2010, he took a strong stance urging world governments to destroy all nuclear weapons. In the 2014 Ukrainian crisis, he said that Crimea should remain under Ukrainian sovereignty, but in the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine said that Crimea and Donbas should be given to Russia.

Kissinger was a board member of Theranos, Elizabeth Holmes' biotech scam.

In response to the 2023 Hamas attack on Israel, and seeing pro-Palestinian protestors in Germany, Kissinger called Muslim immigration into Germany "a grave mistake".

DEATH

Kissinger died peacefully in his home in Connecticut on November 29th, 2023,

#history #destiel #henry kissinger #imperialism #anti imperialism #if any of you use this as an excuse to be antisemitic or prolife im coming for all your bones

[half-oz-eddie]

The Straightest Guy In Hawkins

(Internalized) homophobia tw

"I'm gonna fuck so many bitches this summer." Billy bragged, as he lied on Steve's bed, tossing his baseball into the air.

"Uh huh..." Steve passively responded, continuing to work on their project.

"So many hot babes with big tits and—"

"Couldja shut up and help me with this project? God, You've been pissing me off lately."

"What'd you say? I'm pissing you off?!" Billy sprang up.

"Yeah. Ever since we went to your house to work on this stupid project and I saw that magazine, you've been going overboard to try and prove to me that you're super straight, the straightest guy in Hawkins." Steve rolled his eyes. "Y'know what? I don't care if you're straight, not straight, doesn't matter."

"Well I am straight." Billy pointlessly insisted.

"Good for you! I'm not, and I don't give a shit."

"You're...not?" Billy questioned in disbelief.

"No."

Billy chuckled in response. "Does daddy Harrington know you're a fa—"

"No!" Steve exclaimed. "He doesn't. And if I told him, I don't think he'd care. I don't think my parents even see me half the time, alright? So-so just drop it. Like I said, I don't give a shit if you like guys or girls or both or neither. I just wanna get this project done. We have 3 more days and a lot to do."

Silence filled the room. An uncomfortable, lonely silence. Billy froze. He wanted to speak up, be honest with Steve, but he knew being honest with Steve would lead to his haunting crush on him surfacing again.

"I'm...not." He blurted out. "I'm gay, actually."

Steve set down his pencil and turned his attention to Billy. "Does your dad know you're a—"

"No." He fearfully shook his head. "He'd kill me. Like...actually murder me. He already thinks I'm a failure. If he found out I was a gay failure, he'd probably beat me until I stopped moving."

"So...am I the only person who knows?"

Billy shrugged. "Aside from the 2 guys I've hooked up with."

"In Hawkins?"

"Nah, you're the only other queer I've met around here."

"There're others, trust me. You have options."

The silence returned again. Steve could sense that something was still troubling Billy.

"What is it? You worried I'll tell?"

"Not really...forget it. Let's finish the project."

"C'mon. Talk to me. You've already told me your deepest darkest secret, what could be worse than that?"

"The fact that there's...someone I like. But I can't see them because it runs the risk of my dad finding out."

"Who is it? I'll tell you if he's queer or not."

Billy gently shook his head.

"Is it Eddie? He's definitely queer, I know for a fact—"

"What?! No! ...Wait, you hooked up with Munson?" Billy wondered, shielding his jealousy.

"I—no, we...we kissed once at a party, during a drinking game, but there was tongue, and he was totally into it, so I'm pretty sure—"

"It's..." Billy sighed. "It's not him."

"Is it Jason?" Steve chuckled. "God, I hope not. That guy's probably straighter than you could ever pretend to be—"

"Not him either." Billy snapped. "Let's just finish the project, okay? I'm sorry for...pissing you off, or whatever."

Billy joined Steve at the table where they focused on nothing but the project.

"So I think...we just need to put a little more information in this paragraph so it's longer, and then we'll be done. Then we can type it up."

"Lemme see."

When Billy absentmindedly reached for the paper, his hand accidentally touched Steve's and he sharply pulled away.

"Sorry." He apologized.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "That's the second time you apologized to me."

"And?"

"And. You never apologize. What's up?"

Billy shook his head. "I'dunno what you're talkin' about."

"Billy—"

"Can it, Harrington. I'm trying to read this."

"You're not even looking at it!"

Billy slammed the paper down and stood suddenly, knocking the chair to the floor. "I'm going home."

"What?! You can't just leave, we didn't—"

"I'm tired of you questioning me. Now you're pissing me off."

Steve picked up the chair, watching disappointedly as Billy grabbed his jacket.

"I didn't mean to piss you off. I shouldn't have been pushing you so much about a touchy subject in the first place. It's my fault."

"It isn't."

"Huh?"

"I said it isn't!" Billy snapped. "See you tomorrow."

Steve slumped in his seat when he heard Billy's camaro skirt out of the driveway. Even though he apologized, he still wished he could do more for Billy.

The following day, Billy didn't even show up for school. Steve worried Billy was avoiding him completely, and began to worry about their incomplete project.

When he arrived home, Billy was already there, smoking a cigarette on his porch.

"Hope you're not ashing in my mom's rose bush." He said with a smile.

"Wouldn't dream of tainting Mrs. Harrington's precious roses." Billy sneered.

"Missed you at school today—well, I didn't mean like, I missed you, but—you were...you were missing."

"Had some shit on my mind, so I ditched today."

Steve opened his mouth to ask, but he knew that wouldn't be a smart idea. He'd probably just chase Billy off again.

"Ready to finish this project, then?"

Billy tossed his cigarette into the street. "Yeah, let's get it over with."

They finished the project in 40 minutes and Steve offered Billy a beer to celebrate.

"Think we're gonna get an A?"

"Pretty sure. We followed all the instructions to a T."

"Yeah. Yeah we did." Steve agreed.

"About yesterday, I'm—"

"No. Don't even bother trying to apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"Oh yeah? For what?"

"I kept prodding into your business. I pushed you. I didn't mean to."

Billy shrugged. "'Kay, whatever."

"So, you accept my apology?"

"Will you cry if I don't?"

"Maybe." Steve answered with a pout.

Billy smiled. Not cynically, not mischievously, just...a smile. A pretty one, at that.

"Hey, listen. You wanna, like...hang out? Grab dinner, go to the movies, whatever?"

"You buying?"

"If I buy, it's a date."

"Then no." Billy declined. "Not interested."

"Not interested in a date?" Steve paused. "Or not interested in me?"

Billy leaned in, the once cute smile turning mischievous. "What makes you think you could pull a guy like me?"

Steve leaned in, but far closer. He licked his lips and smirked. "Wishful thinking, I guess." He half shrugged. "Hoping the guy you like could be me."

Billy bit his lip, his smile widening. He pulled Steve in by his collar and kissed him.

It was chaste and no words followed, but it spoke loudly enough to answer Steve's question.

"Pick me up tomorrow at 8. And don't let on that we're like...y'know. I don't need my dad to suspect anything."

"Don't worry. It'll be our little secret."

Steve stole another chaste kiss before Billy pulled away, leaving him hoping for more.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #ivy.doc

[darkworkcourier]

i have a request: after realizing the reader has a crush on him ghost teases her, at first just by gazes, later by words and touched and eventually makes her come by rubbing her trough her panties

so i'm working on a follow-up to this fic where ladybird gets railed in a hotel (like she deserves), but this prompt inspired me to get her into the mile high club. this is shorter than what i'm used to writing, but i hope you like it! :D

contains: through-the-panties fingering, quickies in the bathroom discussion of public sex, and price being way too into nature documentaries.

---

The 141 is flying coach, and—in a word—it sucks.

There's a reason, like always. You're all assigned to carefully monitor a red-eye flight from Boston Logan Airport to London Gatwick on trusted intelligence regarding a potentially dangerous agent onboard. You've read the file (now six going on seven times, nearly beating out how many times you've read the in-flight magazine and the safety card), knowing that this agent—known informally and hilariously as Red Sox—is Kastovian. She's posed as a Bostonian businesswoman for months now, and your instructions are to confirm her role in a recent cybersecurity incident at an international bank. With any luck, you'll get the evidence and have her arrested the moment she gets off the plane.

Until then, you're stuck in the middle seat of the middle aisle in a 787, fighting with a granola bar that refuses to open, half-watching whatever godawful action movie Soap's entertained by on his in-flight screen. He's enjoying himself, though, feeding himself a package of peanuts with the gusto of a man eating caviar.

At least someone's having fun.

Gaz and Price are four rows ahead of you, and Gaz has the luck to have a window seat. You've walked by them twice as you've gone to the lavatory out of sheer boredom. It's all sunshine, roses, Netflix, and podcasts up there, apparently. Sure, they have eyes on Red Sox, but apparently it's much more important for Price to finish his nature documentary ("Jesus Christ, have you seen how much a whale shits? Nature's incredible!") before you all do your jobs.

Ghost is the luckiest, you think. He's in business class, with leg room and hot towels and a seat that isn't actively trying to fold him up like he's in a mousetrap. He's also closest to Red Sox, quietly muttering through the comms whenever she gets up or gets something from one of the flight attendants. He sounds bored as hell, though.

"She's getting a— bloody fucking hell, who gets decaf coffee on a red eye?" Ghost grumbles through your headset. His voice is low, sending tingles through your body and making you wish he was next to you instead of Soap—currently guffawing in every sense of the word at something in his stupid movie.

You hear Gaz snort. "Who gets decaf, period? Gross."

There's a brief pause before you hear Price's awestruck voice. "Did you fucking know that killer whales can chomp a penguin in half? What the actual fuck? Why do we keep these little bastards in zoos?"

"The penguins or the orcas?" Gaz asks, even though he's sitting right next to Price and probably looking at his phone screen. Then, he confirms he is when he utters a disgusted, "Oh, nasty. Why are they showin' that on a documentary?"

At the same time, Soap slaps his knee like a grandpa, nudging you in the ribs with his elbow before snickering and gesturing to his screen where a man is yelling at... you think it's a goat. No way to know what that has to do with exploding cars or paragliding.

You lean back in your seat and groan, rubbing your eyes. "Ghost, please tell me you're having a semi-productive night," you say.

"If by 'productive', you mean carefully analyzing dinner choices and how many copies of 'Tatler' this woman brought with her, then sure," he responds dryly.

"Beef or chicken?"

"Fish," he says.

"Oh, she's definitely a spy," Gaz says. "Decaf and fish. There's something wrong with her."

That's the sum total of your work so far. You briefly glance at the time on the screen in front of you—you still have four and a half hours.

For lack of anything better to do, and abandoning your fight against the granola bar, you turn your focus back to the main object of your thoughts for the past few months. It's not easy to think of Ghost while you're crammed in a tiny seat and sandwiched in between Soap and a snoring British businessman, but you let your mind wander a little bit in Ghost's direction.

Since your crush came to light, he's opened up to you, allowing you to get close enough until you felt tidally locked to him. He's shown you Simon Riley, Manchester born and bred, with a love of bourbon, vinyls, and old camping equipment that he collects the same way people gather stamps or glassware. He's revealed all sorts of quirks and tells, drawing you in further, yet keeping just enough distance for the sake of professionalism.

But for days before this flight, Ghost's teased you relentlessly, in ways you never expected from him—glancing touches on your shoulders and back as he passes you in the hallway, pressing his thigh against yours when you do manage to sit next to him at a meeting, fingers brushing against yours when you pass something to him or vice versa. And he knows what he's doing, because Ghost never moves without intent. Every stray touch lights up your nerves like fairy lights, and he is completely aware of it.

Touches like that might not seem relentless, but in the gap between them are his words—again, carefully chosen. The man's got a way with double meanings and innuendos, all woven into his normal speech so well that no one seems to notice. He'll lock into eye contact with you, then say things to Price, Gaz, or Soap about erecting defenses or pointing the finger of suspicion. Bastard knows exactly what he's about. He knows it's been driving you crazy for weeks.

Those thoughts start to get something stirring in you, which is frankly a terrible thing to have happen on an airplane. Apparently, all your bad thoughts are mile-high ones, and before you start rubbing your legs together like a cricket for Soap to notice, you excuse yourself to the lavatory again.

Squeezing by Soap and his godforsaken tendency to manspread, you catch him grinning at you as he takes one of his AirPods out. "Goin' somewhere exciting, Ladybird?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, gesturing to one of the emergency doors. "Thought I'd test one of those slides out."

"Oooh, fun," Soap says, all cheeky. His brows go up, and you feel what he's going to say before he says it. "Thought you'd be payin' a visit to a businessman up front. He seems lonely up there."

God, you wish.

You stand in the aisle beside Soap for a second, willing your legs to wake up and ignoring the wash of pins and needles through your skin. "Nah, I think he likes being by himself," you say. "Obviously he's not chomping at the bit to watch nature documentaries or visit with us."

"No," Soap agrees, tucking a hand behind his head and grinning up at you. "But I dinnae think he'd say no to you visiting him." At that, he wiggles his brows suggestively, then breaks into a wide smile that has you rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, no, I'm leaving now," you tell him, turning on heel to limp your way to the lavatory on a very wobbly-feeling right leg. You can hear Soap laughing at your back, and you think you hear the words 'mile high club'—better to ignore it.

The lavatory's full when you get there, so you lean against the wall and wait, arms crossed over your chest, fighting back a yawn. The plane wiggles with a little turbulence. Someone coughs nearby. Someone else turns off their overhead light.

Then the lavatory door opens and— yeah, that's Ghost looking down at you.

He's dressed in a disarmingly casual way. He's ditched the balaclava in favor of a black disposable mask and a beanie pulled down low. You're both pleased and distressed that you recognize his hoodie (one that you've stolen before to dart between his room and yours and briefly considered stealing for good), although the jeans are new.

In turn, he looks over you, a faint flicker of something in his eyes that makes a familiar, raw heat already start to form in your gut.

"Ladybird," he says with a nod.

"Ghost," you reply.

It feels like an old cowboy movie standoff, except there's less than a foot of room in between the two of you. Someone has to move—preferably him, because you kind of do need to use the lavatory now. There's a stretch of tension, of an invisible band being pulled before—

Ghost suddenly looks left, then right, and then his hand is on your wrist, tugging you back into the lavatory and closing the door behind you before you can even comprehend what's happened. As soon as the lock clicks into place, the overhead light blinks on, filling the tiny, tiny space with watery white light.

It smells like Clorox wipes and diapers, which is not conducive to anything sexy until Ghost is practically pressed up against you, an arm wrapped around your waist. In another too-quick movement, his mask is pulled down beneath his chin, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hungry. His tongue finds yours immediately, and in between deep kisses, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. It's ravenous—starving. His free hand goes up to your jaw, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

He kisses you like you haven't seen or touched each other in months. Like he's not the one keeping a perfectly professional distance, maintaining the hierarchy of command while torturing you with words and touches. Suddenly, the hand on your waist moves and goes up under your t-shirt, up and up over your stomach to your bra, fingers brushing over one rapidly-stiffening nipple while you moan quietly against his mouth.

For fuck's sake, Soap was right about the mile high club. You wouldn't be surprised if he texted Ghost the suggestion.

Ghost tilts his head back enough to talk, although you feel every syllable against your lips. "Wanna touch you," he mutters, half-lidded eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"Do it," you whisper back. The urgency is there, knowing you only have a short amount of time and the smallest bit of elbow room to work with.

The hand on your breast descends quickly, and with it, your body feels like it goes into an uncontrolled downward spin, dizzy with the thought of what you're doing. Ghost's hand slips under the band of your—

"Pajama pants? Really?"

You glare up at him, although all the heat is redirected southward. "They're comfy, and it's a long flight," you retort.

He breathes out a laugh that fans over your cheek before he kisses you again, just as his fingers go down and rub against your cunt through the thin cotton of your panties. It makes you gasp against him, even at a slight, barely-there touch. But his touch transmutes into something stronger and more insistent, rubbing your slit, the fabric helping to build friction.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, staggering a little and leaning on his shoulder for support. You feel him press a finger against your clit, setting off a charge that darts lightning-quick up your spine. One of your hands claps over your mouth to stifle a moan.

Ghost laughs, a low rumble that seems to vibrate right through you, matching frequencies with the electricity currently pulsing through your whole damn nervous system.

"Been wantin' to do this all week," he mutters into your ear as his index finger slides over your clit.

Your voice fights to catch a foothold in your throat, hoisting itself up into your mouth in a strain. "I-in an airplane lavatory?" you manage, although the joke is lost on another moan that you have to hide in the fabric of his hoodie.

He hums this time, and it's almost thoughtful. "Sure," he says. His fingers slide back, pressing the soaked fabric of your panties against your opening in the most teasing way. You're tempted to just pull everything down and let him take you over the tiny stainless steel sink. But he goes on, "Back at base. Kitchen, office, common area. Don't really care."

Holy fuck, the idea of Ghost taking you in any of those places sends another little shock through your system and turns that inner coil tighter. You shudder, gasping as he rubs his fingers back and forth. You cling onto him, fingers in a vise grip on his hoodie, face tucked against his shoulder as he draws your climax up to the surface quicker than you've ever felt it rise.

"Wait until we get to London," he says, his voice low and hot in your ear. "I know at least five places where I can fuck you in view of a whole damn street an' no one will know we're there."

That promise alone and all the mental images it conjures are enough to send you right over the edge, burying your cry in fleece and shuddering against his hand as you rock your hips against him. You hear him whispering encouragements to you, to use him to get off, to come for him. You do, using all that friction and that sense of taboo of what you're doing now as a springboard for your pleasure. It's not the hardest you've come (and Ghost certainly has the honor of achieving that), but it's the fastest—almost embarrassingly quick. You hit the heights, the upper ceiling of your personal atmosphere, and try to catch your breath as you fall back into an oxygen-rich level.

Ghost draws his hand back while you lean on him for support as your legs threaten to give out entirely. You hear and feel him laugh again, and then he's pressing a rolled-up piece of toilet paper into your hand.

"Kind of soaked there, love," he says, and it's all fondness—maybe a little bit of pride.

"Who's fault is that?" you say, your voice hoarse and tired. Still, you make use of the paper, reaching in to wipe up at least some of the dampness. And—well, fuck, you're going to have to sit with that for another four hours. Gross.

Ghost presses a kiss to your temple, and you lean into it instinctively.

"I'll make it up to you in London," he promises.

You have a better idea.

---

You squeeze past Soap again, inwardly groaning as you sit down and feel dampness between your legs. It's three hours and forty-eight minutes until Gatwick. Three hours and forty-eight minutes of sitting in wet panties while trying to apprehend a criminal on a 787. Nevermind that your orgasm sent enough endorphins through your system to maybe get a good nap in.

Then, beside you, Soap laughs. You feel a tug on your sleeve, and look over to see him grinning at you.

"Nice hoodie," he says. "Is it new?"

You smile and nestle yourself into the fabric, still warm from Ghost's skin. "Sort of," you reply.

#cod: mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap as a wingman part 2! #idk what ladybird's whole deal is yet but i do love her #there's like a vague plot from another fic i'm working on that i just used as mini-exposition #mostly i just wanted a reason for all of them to be on an airplane

[topguncortez]

Eyes Wide Shut

Spring Break Kickback | Masterlist

synopsis: You are an Aviator and go down in a crash, now Bob is trying to convince you to wake up and help you complete your bucket list

prompt: [ BEDSIDE ] : sender waits by receiver's bedside as they recover from an illness or an injury.

warnings: medical inaccuracies (I got my medical degree from Shonda Rhimes University), description of injuries, failed ejection, mentions of death, angst, Bobby Boy being sad

word count: 1.5k

It was quiet, except for the incessant beeping and soft hum of all the machines gathered around her bed. They were the only things keeping her alive. Keeping oxygen and blood flowing through her body. The annoying beeping was the constant reminder that her heart was still beating in her chest. It had been days since she had opened her eyes, and Bob feared she might never again. 

He had been sitting in the readiness room, reading through some military magazine when the distress call came over the radio. He stood up from the couch and quickly ran over to the radio, where Nat and Payback were crowding around. You and Hangman were in the air, doing a routine, or what should’ve been, hop against Javy and Rooster. Everyone had started to believe that Hangman had changed his ways, but it seemed as though everyone spoke too soon. 

“You need to eject! Punch out! Eject! Eject! Eject!” 

You were out there for two days. Your parachute carried you farther from the wreckage of your jet than the rescue crews had estimated. You were found barely breathing, dehydrated, and in a pool of your own blood. They took you straight to the hospital, rushing you into surgery to repair the broken leg you had sustained in the crash. But the doctors had feared that they were too late. That even though they had fixed your leg and internal injuries, that the mix of severe dehydration, blood loss, and swelling in your brain had caused irreparable damage. 

“Mav went ballistic on Cyclone today,” Bob said, as he held your hand, “You would’ve loved to see it.” 

Bob hadn’t left the side of your bed since you had been brought into the ICU. You weren’t allowed more than one visitor, in case you did wake up. The doctor said low stimulation was going to be the best for you. The brain was an organ that took a while to heal, and a quiet setting was ideal for patients like you. The doctor also told Bob that studies had shown that talking to comatose patients often helped their brains heal even quicker. 

“I don’t even know why Cyclone would bring up something like. . . bringing in a new pilot,” Bob scoffed, “That’s just fucking ridiculous. You’ll be back soon. And then you can tell Cyclone yourself that his idea was fucking ridiculous.” 

But, Bob knew that it wasn’t all that too ridiculous that Cyclone was searching for your replacement. You’d never fly again. The doctor had already told Bob that. You would never pass a physical to get cleared to fly. It was hardly ever that pilots who had crashes as bad as yours found themselves back in the air. They said it would be a miracle if you even stayed in the Navy, more than likely going to get a medical discharge. That depends on if you wake up. 

The thought ran through Bob’s head again and sent a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, and sat forward a bit in his chair. He picked up your hand and held it in both of his. He pressed a kiss to your fingers, feeling tears well up in his eyes. You had to wake up. You just had too. There were too many things that you hadn’t done yet. You had hardly lived, being only twenty-seven. You had a bucket list, a lengthy one at that, that you wanted to complete. 

“Remember the other day. . . when you said that you were half way through your bucket list goal of eating chicken strips in every state?” Bob sniffled. He had laughed when you first said that, but then you showed him the map of all the states you had eaten chicken strips in, “Well, if you wake up, I promise that I’ll help you complete that. You hear that? You gotta wake up so we can cross that off our list.” 

The tears in Bob's eyes were now streaming down his face as he held your hand to his lips and cried. He was never one to cry. His father had told him once that crying makes you weak. But in this moment that was all he could do. He had run out of prayers to say. Run out of scripture passages to read. And now, the hope that he had in his body was also starting to run thin. 

It felt good to cry. It felt good to get all the pent up feelings he had in his body out. It had been eight long days of sitting by your side, holding your hand, being woken up every hour on the hour by doctors and nurses coming in to check your vitals, and hearing that constant beeping of the machines. Bob gently sets your hand back down by your side, running his thumb over the back of your skin. 

“And when we get to that fiftieth state, which I really want to be Alaska, cause it’s beautiful,” Bob took a deep breath, “I’m gonna ask you to marry me.” His blue eyes looked up at your rested face. 

Your relationship had been kept on the down low, fearing that one of you would be moved away from the unit if the higher ups found out. Somehow, you had been able to keep it a secret for nearly two years, but Bob reckoned that everyone knew now. It had taken Payback and Rooster to hold Bob back from charging at Hangman for putting you in the wake of his jet wash. They had never seen the quiet WSO so angry, nor did they know that he had a nasty right hook. Jake was still supporting a black eye. Everyone had confused looks on their faces when Bob ran from the shared office space and out the door on the day they had found you. Slowly, the pieces had been falling together. 

“I got a ring and everything,” Bob said, “You just gotta open your eyes. Alright,” Bob sat up in his chair, “You open your eyes, and the ring is yours. I am yours. Please, please.” Bob clasped his hands and rested his elbows on your bed in prayer, reciting the Our Father again like he had several times already. 

It felt like a jackhammer going off in your head. The idea of even attempting to open your eyes sounded like the worst thing in the world. It’s like seeing the bright light of morning shining through your window, and trying to stay asleep. But there was a pull, like a magnet, that was pulling you to just open your eyes. It was like hearing your mother call you home after the street lights had turned on. You knew that you needed to. That you should. But what was stopping you? 

Ever so slowly, you blinked your eyes open. The lights were bright, and you couldn’t quite focus your eyes on anything. The pounding in your head grew worse as you could somewhat make out a shape of a person sitting by your bed. You should’ve known it was him. You tried to turn your head the best you could, but you weren’t sure that you had any control over your body. You thought you were moving your hand to reach and grab his clasped ones, but you were no more than just moving one of your fingers. 

But somehow Bob felt that barely there brush against his forearm, and looked over at you. 

“Oh my god,” He grabbed your hand. Every fiber in your being felt like it had been lit up in flames as you used whatever strength you could muster and squeezed his hand, “I love you. I love you so much.” Bob moved forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You squeezed his hand again and slowly your eyes fluttered shut. 

Bob pulled away from you to look at you again, when a loud flatlining sound filled the air.

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[skepsiss]

Tooth and Nail - pt3 - Steddie

Part 3/? of this fic request! The concept is Steve being the first to come out as queer and Eddie subsequently being extremely confused and questioning his sexuality because of that. In the previous parts, Eddie messed up majorly (miscommunication and idiot boy behaviour), and in the 2nd part, he had a proper breakdown over his identity with Wayne there to support him. Reading the first 2 parts will make this part more impactful.

Summary: Eddie attempts to talk to Steve about everything that has happened.

14A ish rating. TW: Lots of swearing, minor internal homophobia (he is getting better with each post), mention of discrimination / real-life danger to queer folks, mention of death (canon character death S4), mention of injury (canon Steve S3 injuries), general tension, and anxiety.

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4

---

Eddie hardly left his room in the proceeding days. He had skipped band practice which had the guys beating down his door asking if he had died. He had refused to come out and eventually Wayne had turned them away politely. 

Eddie wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody; he'd found it difficult enough to sit alone with his thoughts let alone try and communicate what was going on in his head. It felt like all his thoughts were tangled together like a nest of cables, which would make his brain some kind of broken amp or something equally as loud. It was hard to tame it and eventually, Eddie had resigned himself to confronting Steve about the whole matter. 

Uncle Wayne’s advice had been to communicate how confused he was, but that had felt like a cop-out; he had wanted to puzzle it out himself, but there didn’t seem to be a better option. Building the courage to go to Steve’s was another matter altogether though. 

A part of Eddie wished it was miserable out; that it had been raining or dreary, foggy, or something equally as moody, but it was late summer and the weather was mild. It didn’t fit his mood and it made Eddie linger on the streets around Steve’s block. He had planned that in part so he could make sure Steve was alone, but genuinely he couldn’t really tell if Steve was there or not. It stressed him out and something told him that if Steve’s mother answered the door Eddie was going to spontaneously shunt through the earth from shame. 

It took a while, but as Eddie raised his hand to try knocking again he heard the handle on the door click. 

It took 4 cigarettes and a muttered pep-talk for Eddie to finally muster the courage to walk up the too-long path to the Harrington household. He had only been here sparingly before now and never while Steve’s parents were in town. He felt like a hooligan just stepping onto their driveway and he had no clue how Steve could even sleep in this place. It was like a photo out of a magazine: sterile and prime with no room for mistakes. None of that mattered right now, but it didn’t help Eddie’s mood at all either.

Nervously Eddie rapped on the front door and waited. He shifted uncomfortably and stuffed his hands in his pockets while looking over his shoulder as if he was committing some kind of crime by just being here. It felt like he was performing some kind of sting operation; like the police had him wired and he had to risk his life walking into a den of thieves to nark on them.

He watched Steve pull the door open and was only able to register his look of surprise before the door was shut in his face again.

“Steve, hey, uh–!” Eddie tried, moving forward to bang his hand on the door slightly, his tone desperate.

“Steve! Come on, man, I just want to talk,” Eddie explained, trying to see through the frosted glass into the front entrance.

“Go home, Eddie,” Steve said sternly from the other side of the door, “I don’t want an apology.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, feeling defeated as he stood there pressed up against the wood. So, Steve wouldn’t even hear him out, huh? He had really fucked up–he knew it too, but a part of him had hoped that Steve would at least entertain him. Why would he though? Eddie hadn’t done anything to deserve forgiveness.

Eddie thunked his forehead against the door softly, lingering as he felt his throat tighten and his fingers fist against the wood. Quietly he sank down onto the ground before shifting so his back was against the door. After building himself up–after bawling his eyes out to Wayne and then half a dozen other times alone in his room–he wasn’t even going to get a chance to say his peace. He supposed Steve didn’t owe him that–didn’t owe him anything, actually, but it still sucked. 

He still didn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, so Eddie sucked in a shuttered breath and continued, hoping that at the very least he could relieve some of his own emotions here and now rather than holed up in his room again. 

Eddie tucked in on himself and closed his eyes as a bubble of deficiency rose in his chest. If this was it, then this was it and he couldn’t fuck it up any more than he already had, right? If he never spoke to Steve again he wanted to at least think he had tried.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, tipping his head back against the door again and trying to listen for any signs of movement on the other side. He couldn’t hear anything and he had no idea if Steve was even there, but he hoped he was.

“If you’re there, just listen, okay? You don’t have to say anything… you don’t have to forgive me or anything like that, but I just–I hope you can at least hear this. I know that… I know that you don’t want me to say sorry, so I won’t, or I’ll try not to, but I just… Jesus Christ, I didn’t plan this at all. I mean, I did, I came here, but I didn’t… I couldn’t figure out what to say. I don’t know what to say. I guess that’s what I came here to say, I just… don’t know. Fuck, man, that… if I could take it back I would, and I mean what I said not… what I did. It… it’s–fuck, man. Shit, this is hard–I don’t want… I just… twenty years I’ve been blissfully ignorant of being attracted to anyone but girls and now it just–I don’t know, man. I haven’t figured it out. I’m trying to figure it out, it’s just fucking… hard,” Eddie choked, his throat feeling as if it was going to close the more he tried to explain himself. Saying it all out loud felt terrible, and it sounded just as jumbled as his thoughts were, but at least his words were genuine.

“This is so messed up. It sucks what I said to you and it sucks that I felt like I had to say it, and it sucks that every fucking person in the world is shitty towards queer people. I don’t… I just, it’s fucking scary, you know? I just–it always felt like I could be… that I could use the fact that I’m this one ‘socially acceptable thing’ to be just, I don’t know, some kind of shield or something. I don’t want Will or Robin or you–or anyone having to deal with all that crap from fundamentalist yahoos thinking that being gay or whatever is a sin, or a mental disease or sick or whatever nonsense they're spouting. It just… it felt like I could… that I was able to do something about it. Like, help, or something. Make it more… accepted or normal or whatever–and not boring normal, just… real normal. Like… we’re all just people who cares what we do with our mortal coils, you know? But I’m a fucking hypocrite. I can’t… I don’t care that you’re ga–bisexual, I don’t care–well, I do care, but I don’t care that way. I care in the... because it’s you way, not in the it doesn’t matter way. I… fuck, man. I’d do anything to make sure Will didn’t have to worry about–fucking walking home from school or something, or Robin not being able to be in band or whatever shitty, stupid thing people could have a problem with. It’s the same with Mike or Dustin, or… any of my freaks, hell, I’ve thrown more than a few punches in my day, I know what getting into fights looks like, I know how to talk the game to make sure some twerp can run home in time–I, I’ve–I’ve always been doing it. It doesn’t matter to me why you’re a dork, or a nerd, or a freak, or whatever. We’re just different and it’s fucking stupid that people are scared of us because we’re different. It’s stupid. But I just… I never thought… I didn’t think I was…” Eddie couldn’t say the words as he sat sniffling on Steve’s stoop, pressed up against the doorframe with no idea whether or not he was being heard. Everything felt so heavy and it felt impossible for Steve to understand or care about anything he had to say. God, but he hoped….

“That’s why I’m a hypocrite,” Eddie laughed, the sound wet and bitter, “I’d do anything, and then I’m scared out of my mind to… acknowledge myself in all this. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, but when it’s me? God, it’s pathetic. Like I’m some sort of exception to the rule or something. I hate it. I hate that my brain or my ego or whatever can’t just–accept it! I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore, I don’t know. I just… Wayne told me to come here and just tell you honestly that I don’t know. That… I guess I’m trying to figure it out, and that I’m a shitbag for doing and saying that crap to you and that… I’m fucking scared.”

Eddie went quiet as he finished speaking and looked up at the sky as a hint of red started to touch the horizon. It looked too bright and too cheerful for the way he felt, and it sucked having to sit there in silence after saying all of that. That was the thing though, wasn’t it? He didn’t come here to be forgiven–as much as he wanted it–he had come here to be honest. He didn’t know, and he didn’t know if or when he’d figure it out, but it sucked that he and Steve were having a fallout because of his ignorance. This was all just consequences for his own actions though, and he was going to have to live with that. 

No noises roused from the other side of the door and as the sky changed from reds to pinks and yellows Eddie eventually got up. He’d take the long way home and walk off the lingering feelings still squeezing around his heart. This wasn’t how he had wanted things to go, but what was he expecting?

Eddie stuffed his hands into his back pockets and loitered for a short time before stealing one last look over his shoulder at the door to Steve’s house.

“I’m going,” Eddie said as if he was speaking to someone, “I know I said I wouldn’t say it, but I am sorry.”

Eddie twisted his lips together and swiped at his cheeks to make sure there were no obvious signs of tears and then slumped his way to the curb. He didn’t look back at the house despite wanting to, despite hoping Steve was still standing on the other side of that door. The truth was he wasn’t sure if he could handle it if he looked back and there was no one there. If he watched as the sun set over an indifferent house in a posh neighbourhood he didn’t belong in. If he was forced to admit that the chapter of his life that had Steve Harrington in it was over and done with and he’d never get a chance to speak to him again…. He wasn’t sure what he would do if that was all true, and he didn’t want to tempt fate by thinking about it. If he looked, it was over, if he kept going maybe–just maybe–he could convince himself this was a pause instead of an end.

Eddie had walked around Hawkins until well after dark. He had lounged and loitered on the fringes of town and ghosted his way through back streets and quiet residential neighbourhoods until he finished his pack of smokes. It hadn’t been full when he started his walk, but it was still more than he should be smoking–a few members of the party had been nagging him to cut back recently and he supposed they had a point. It was hard though and the last few weeks hadn’t been kind to him. 

– - -

With nothing keeping him out and a mind still heavy with emotions Eddie made his way back to the trailer park with his head down and his hands stuffed under his armpits. It was starting to get chilly late at night with summer ending, but it was still too warm out to wear a jacket during the day–and Eddie was not one to think ahead to bring a coat along with him. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to get frostbite or anything, it just made his walk more miserable as he eventually walked into the dirty yellow light of Hawkins’ Trailer Park.

Eddie didn't look up as he pushed the flyscreen to the trailer open, keeping his concentration on his shoes as he made his way to his bedroom.

“Eddie,” Wayne said clearly and Eddie waved his hand over his shoulder, still lost in thought.

“Eddie,” Wayne repeated a bit firmer; Eddie sighed before shuffling and turning to face his uncle. He appreciated Wayne more than anyone else in the world, but he didn’t have it in him to have a conversation right now–

Did this mean that Steve had heard what he had to say? Or had he shown up on his own? Or was it that he had just heard Eddie when he first knocked and then his whole speech was lost to time?

Eddie blinked hard as he focused on what was before him–who was before him. Steve was seated on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped between his knees and his elbows resting on his thighs as he hunched forward. He was looking at Eddie who was stunned, his gaze slowly shifting towards his uncle standing in the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands. Wayne looked bothered, or concerned perhaps, but there was a gentleness to him that suggested he was wishing for the best.

“Someone here to see you,” Wayne offered quietly before walking over to Steve’s side and placing the mug down on the TV dinner table. He walked away without saying anything else and Eddie stood rooted to the spot, not sure what to say.

The quiet of the trailer drew out between them; Steve had long since looked away and was staring across the room with an unreadable expression. He was sipping the coffee slightly and looked almost like a troubled father waiting for bad news. Eddie was just standing there. It felt like if he moved the whole scene was going to fall apart and he’d stick his foot in his mouth. Make things worse, again. 

Eddie could feel his palms sweating as he thought about having to repeat himself and dredge up those emotions again. It had taken 7 cigarettes and a 2 hour walk to settle him the first time, what would it take this time? Mercifully, Steve spoke up finally and Eddie sucked in a breath to try and settle his nerves.

“Took you a long time to get back,” Steve commented and Eddie swallowed all the subtext that sentence could imply.

“Uh, I just wanted to… clear my mind. Were you waiting long?” He asked, feeling like some kind of damsel in a prime-time soap opera or something. Were you waiting long: that sounded so dramatic and wistful. 

It was quiet for some time until they reached the edge of the trailer park and Steve led them onto the road. This stretch was well-lit, but it still made Eddie feel uneasy with the history attached to the space. He had to swallow that worry every time his feet hit the concrete here as he willfully pushed any thoughts of Fred out of his mind. 

Steve didn’t seem to like that line of questioning and he pinched his lips together which made Eddie waver. Had he pressed too hard already? Maybe he was making Steve regret waiting.

“Not too long,” Steve replied off-handedly as he put the mug down and stood up from the couch.

Enough time for Wayne to make coffee, Eddie thought with annoyance, kicking himself for not coming home right away. He watched as Steve turned properly to face him, the distance between them still feeling like leagues as Eddie stood between the kitchen and the bathroom and Steve stood near the front door.

“Let’s…” Steve started and then jammed his thumb towards the door before starting to move in that direction. He seemed awkward for the first time since Eddie had gotten home and Eddie felt that calm his own nerves slightly. It wasn’t anger so that was at least a small step forward.

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie replied quietly, waiting for Steve to step outside before following him. He caught up to Steve and glanced as they walked passed his car. He had been so distracted coming in he hadn’t even noticed the obviously out-of-place BMW parked by his trailer. They didn’t get into the car though, so Eddie stuffed his hands back in his pockets as they started walking. 

“So–”

“Did you–” Eddie started, only to stumble over his words as Steve started to talk at the same time. “Sorry, you go–”

“No, it’s alright,” Steve insisted, his tone a bit emotionless despite not being harsh.

Eddie pressed his lips together and floundered again before looking at his feet. He choked on his own words for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he tried to conjure the ability to talk.

“You… I was–earlier, I came by,” Eddie fumbled, rolling his hands in circles in front of himself while wiggling his fingers as if that would help organize his thoughts, “when I… were you there?”

His line of questioning didn’t quite make sense and Eddie sniffed to cover up his awkwardness before plowing on.

“It doesn’t matter– it’s, uh, I don’t blame you for slamming the door in my face. It, I mean, I probably would have done worse if I were you. That is, I mean, not–it’s not about me, I don’t mean it that way,” Eddie rambled, caught in something of a loop as he tried to apologize without apologizing and get on the same footing as Steve. He seemed so calm, it wasn’t fair, Eddie felt like an idiot and a jackass and he didn’t know what more he could say. He probably had to start from the beginning, and that felt daunting at best.

“I came by earlier 'cause I wanted to… I needed to, uh–”

“Eddie,” Steve spoke up finally which shut Eddie up instantly, his attention still on his own feet, “I heard you… earlier. I heard what you said before you left.”

Eddie sucked in a breath, not sure if he was feeling relief or overwhelmed as Steve’s words crashed over him. It felt like an invasion of privacy or something. Like there was a mistake and he should be ashamed or angry, but at the same time, he had said all of that because he wanted Steve to hear him. Regardless, Eddie stopped walking and stood with his nose pointed towards the ground, his emotions too big to hold in. He couldn’t move and stop himself from crying at the same time. He needed everything to stop. He needed a break or something from the onslaught–how was he supposed to remain calm when it felt like the rug was constantly being pulled out from under his feet?

Steve didn’t stop walking right away, but after moving a few paces he turned and looked at Eddie, staying quiet for the moment. It didn’t help and Eddie fisted his hands by his side as he felt tears run down his nose. He hoped his hair was long enough and it was dark enough here that Steve couldn’t see him.

“I’m really fucking sorry,” he hissed, trying to hold his emotions in and speak through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what to do, man. I just… tell me what to do to fix it. I don’t know what to do.”

Images of Steve sitting on the other side of his door while Eddie himself moped and lamented about life filtered into Eddie’s mind. How unfair it was to sit there and pour his heart out when Steve hadn’t asked for it; how he had come to his front door and refused to leave, trapping Steve in his own home practically. But the image of Steve sitting in his bone-white house with his back to the door and Eddie mirroring him still felt impossibly heartwrenching. Eddie couldn’t figure out if it was breaking him because it was the kindest thing someone had done for him or because it was the cruelest thing he had done to someone else. And now he was asking Steve to tell him what to do. Asking him while blubbering like a baby as if Steve should be responsible for his emotions now, too.

“I can’t,” Steve answered and Eddie choked as his emotions slammed into him.

As if his body couldn’t take it Eddie squatted down and buried his face in his thighs, trying desperately to keep his sobs silent. He felt desperate. There was no fixing this; it was as if he had done irreversible damage and Steve was just letting him go with one last goodbye.

The sounds of the night felt deafening to Eddie as the murmur of crickets and the distant rumble of cars filled the empty space between them. How overwhelming the peace of the night was. The sounds pressed in on him and made his body feel untethered in the worst of ways. As if he could lay down right here and make this place his grave. Die with regrets and disappear from everyone’s lives so he couldn’t do any more damage.

“I’m just…” Eddie gasped, trying not to heave like a child, “I’m so fucking scared.”

“Eddie…” Steve said sympathetically, and Eddie shook his head to the softness, wishing Steve would just stop.

“You must fucking hate me,” Eddie blubbered, his voice tinged with humour as he tried to make light of the situation–as he tried to muster the last of his bravery to at least go down with some dignity.

“I don’t hate you,” Steve replied, sounding a bit annoyed which felt contradictory, but it made Eddie pause long enough so he could swallow back the constraint in his throat, his ears prickling for more.

The confession was desperate and selfish to mutter in the moment when Steve was probably already exercising so much patience. He wanted to be reassured, he needed to know that if nothing else he could try and make things better. If he was going to live life in this terrifying new space he at least wanted to be able to do it with other people like him. He didn’t want to start from scratch again. He didn’t want to have to figure this all out by himself. He just needed a crumb, something–anything–so he could at least try to enjoy his miserable existence.

“I can’t tell you what to do because I don’t know either,” Steve continued as Eddie sniffled and tried to make himself breathe even. That was something at least. It still felt hopeless, but at least it wasn’t hate. 

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, swallowing the phlegm building in his throat as he tried uselessly to cover up his crying.

“I don’t think I forgive you, yet, but…” Steve said as Eddie heard his shoes scraping on the road as he moved closer.

Yet. But. That meant there was more, that meant there was a sliver of a chance he could fix things. He clung to those words as Steve approached, his heart feeling as if it was being strangled in his chest, like some sick sacrifice to the gods.

“I think I’m willing to let you make it up to me,” Steve said quietly as Eddie felt Steve crouch down in front of him. Steve touched the top of his head, the motion almost turning into a pet but stopping short as Steve just held his hand against Eddie’s crown.

Quietly–slowly–Eddie lifted his head to peer at Steve from over his knees. Steve wasn’t smiling brilliantly like the sun, and he almost didn’t resemble himself crouched in the middle of the road with yellow street lights illuminating him. He looked troubled and unsure, but Eddie swore there was care there as well. That was enough. That was okay. He’d make do with that for now–he’d make it up to Steve. 

“Stop saying that,” Steve scolded, a good-natured sound to his voice as he half ruffled and half shoved Eddie’s head before standing up.

Eddie choked a wet laugh, actually feeling himself smile lightly. The weight on his heart felt lighter, even if his bones were still heavy with regret. It felt awkward, but at least right now it felt like there was a shadow of their friendship present.

“You should get out of the middle of the road before a car hits you,” Steve said as Eddie heard him shuffle backward to the shoulder.

Eddie groaned lightly, shame plowing into him for having broken down in front of Steve like that. How fucking embarrassing. You weren’t supposed to cry in front of other guys–but if he was going to be… queer, maybe he had to stop thinking about things like that.

Eddie pulled up the hem of his shirt and covered his face with it, using it as a tissue and a shield all at once.

 

“Don’t look at me, I’m pathetic,” Eddie grouched as he got up and stumbled to the side of the road. He continued to hold the fabric to his face, but let himself peak out of the corner of his shirt, his bangs mostly covering his eyes still.

“I’ve seen worse,” Steve offered with a bit of a huff, “try puking your guts out in a public washroom with a broken nose and your eye swollen shut.”

Eddie huffed, and looked to the side, still not sure how to respond to Steve when he brought up the past like that. He didn’t know all the details of the summer of 1985, but the pieces he had gathered were wild at best and absolutely bat-fucking-insane at worst.

“How’d you see it if your eye was swollen shut?” Eddie asked indignantly, only to flinch hard as Steve smacked his bare stomach.

Eddie grunted from the mild pain and stumbled backward slightly until his feet hit grass. The hit hadn’t hurt badly, and honestly, it had been more of a shock than anything, but it was a friendly ‘bro’ gesture. Eddie wasn’t all that used to that sort of thing–it was so jock–but it was friendly so he didn’t have the mind to complain.

“Shut up, would you? Or I’ll properly give you a five-star,” Steve replied, his tone obviously teasing.

Eddie huffed and wiped the last of his snot and tears onto his shirt before dropping it back down.

“A five-star, really? What are we? Fourteen?” Eddie asked, hunching a bit but falling into step beside Steve again.

“With the company you keep, I’d say that’s accurate.”

“The company I keep?” Eddie scoffed, sounding more offended than he actually was. Eddie hustled a bit to get in front of Steve, walking backward a few paces in front of him so he could point at Steve.

“They were your’s before I was even in the picture,” Eddie scolded, unable to help the hint of a smile breaking onto his face. This was good, this felt so much better than whatever the last 2 weeks had been. This felt almost like it had before all this nonsense. 

“You’re doing a terrible job of proving that you’re sorry,” Steve quipped and Eddie snapped his mouth shut, feeling the lightness fade quickly. He swallowed thickly and Steve must have noticed because he was waving his hand dismissively while keeping pace with Eddie still.

“I’m teasing,” Steve clarified, “too soon.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and turned to start walking beside Steve again, his head hanging down a bit.

“Yeah, but you deserve to get at least one in,” Eddie replied, feeling a smidge better knowing that there wasn’t any weight behind Steve’s comment. He didn’t feel like he could begrudge him, and Steve deserved at least one cheap shot.

They grew quiet after that, but it wasn’t oppressive like it was before and the awkwardness only touched the edges of the moment as they walked back to Hawkins’ Trailer Park. It was a comfortable silence and one that felt vaguely familiar to how things used to be between the two of them after the Upside Down. It wasn’t perfect–God, was it far from perfect–but Eddie could honestly say he felt good occupying that space. Everything had been so messy and even without the clearest path forward they were at least talking. He’d try–he’d try hard to make it up to Steve and prove that his misstep had been just that: A misstep. He still didn’t know what this meant for him and the prospect of facing that felt as if something was looming behind him even as they walked across the empty asphalt. But, he was at least looking at it now. This feeling, this fear, of discovering a more genuine version of himself. Just this hulking beast standing behind him, demanding and formidable, but less intimidating than it had been. He was unsure, but the sentimental notion of “family” felt like it was filtering into the space around them too. It was less ghastly, less perilous, and daunting to look at with someone else beside him. 

“Alright, yeah, see you at Wheeler’s,” Eddie confirmed, offering an awkward smile as Steve nodded and got into his car. 

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s as they approached the trailer, not looking up at him as he felt the exhaustion of the last 14 days catching up to him.

“Thanks for coming by,” Eddie said quietly, stepping up the trailer stairs before half turning to look at Steve who was stationed by his car.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, both of their uncertainty on how to communicate their emotions obvious. “I’ll see you… at Nancy’s going away party. College party, thing.”

Pt4

It wasn’t the best of goodbyes but as Steve’s car rumbled to life and Eddie finished climbing the steps into the trailer he couldn’t help but smile at how genuine their parting had been. It was awkward, but it also felt kind of perfect: no pressure to perform, no dredging up emotions or guilting one another, it was just them. Just honest and authentic with no hope for anything more than to fix whatever was here between the two of them.

Once a freak, always a freak. It just felt good to not be going at it alone anymore.

#eeeehhhhh it's not perfect but there is some wiggle room now #get ready for potentially more miscommunication and awkward boys in love #cause Eddie STILL hasn't faced the fact that he kissed STEVE #he's looking at 'kissing a boy' #but he's stupid bad and Steve is confused bad #anyways hurt/comfort time #my_writing #steddie #Eddie Munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #tooth and nail

[thelensofyashunews]

BBYMUTHA SHARES NEW LP SLEEP PARALYSIS

The defiant Chattanooga-born, Atlanta-based artist and underground heavyweight bbymutha has just shared her new album sleep paralysis—out now via True Panther Records. Fresh off a Washington Post feature that hailed her as a “prolific rapper [whose songs] mix Southern rap menace with the bump and bounce of underground clubs”, bbymutha's highly-anticipated sophomore LP arrives just as she kicks off a 25-date international tour (ticket link here). The album’s title “sleep paralysis” is a literal reference to the syndrome that bbymutha has been afflicted with since childhood – providing a way for her to dive back into memories she didn’t even know she had, an essential component in crafting the album. Defined by her colorful lyricism and genre-bending production, bbymutha has continously stood out among other SoundCloud-era artists since her 2017 hit “Rules” (6M+ Streams), and solidified her name a year later with "Lately" featuring Rico Nasty, as well as the poppy, R&B-infused banger "Sleeping With the Enemy" (9M+ Streams). A viral performance of “Heavy Metal” on COLORS in 2019 followed by the release of bbymutha’s critically-acclaimed debut album Muthaland in 2020 led to subsequent collaborations with Zelooperz, Baby Tate, Na-Kel, Pink Siifu, Kelela, and Fly Anakin on her most recent album, Muthaleficent 3. Earlier this year, bbymutha shared new tracks “gun kontrol” and “go!”, with Pitchfork praising the former for the “allure and force of [bbymutha’s] voice, a thick Tennessee drawl that she wields like a weapon”. bbymutha is fresh off the album's third single “lines”, which HotNewHipHop lauded as “a drug-drenched banger” – continuing to set the tone for sleep paralysis, which bbymutha is using to cement herself as an artist at the forefront of Southern underground scene, while ushering in a new era of self-discovery and reinvention.

sleep paralysis, bbymutha’s full-length debut with independent label True Panther Records, finds her continuing to challenge traditional genre boundaries by experimenting with new sonic landscapes inspired by a trip to the UK. A unique blend of Punk, Electronic, Club, and Rap, sleep paralysis compiles beats from nine different producers including Foisey, Bon Music Vision, and Kilder. A visionary artist who’s steadily built her cult following through a strong run of independent releases, sleep paralysis layers steely and hilarious musings over windswept synths and echoing industrial 808s, bringing both an urgency to bbymutha’s words, and a glint of experimentation to her ever-developing sound. The album’s inspiration was derived from a post-lockdown tour in the UK on which she was introduced to the sounds of 90's Garage and UK dance music, a revelatory moment following a gauntlet of bad luck and a creative rut during the peak of the pandemic. Showcasing why Clash Magazine recently hailed bbymutha as “a staple of the Southern underground scene”, sleep paralysis is an album fascinated with the dreamlike nature of trauma, personal history, and fantasy.

#bbymutha #sleep paralysis #chattanooga tennessee #chattanooga artist #chattanooga rapper #female artist #female artists #female rappers #female #artists #artist #spotify #youtube #music #musician #soundcloud #rapper #culture #art #rap #underground rapper #underground artist #underground #underground music #tennessee #tennessee rapper #tennessee artist #Spotify

[aneptuniana]

SELF [spotify]

"I am made of — junk, I’m just junk."

inspired by "money" by martin amis (1984)

"the plastic age" - the buggles :: "the last film" - kissing the pink :: "no more heroes" - the stranglers :: "both ends burning" - roxy music :: "modern love is automatic" - a flock of seagulls :: "the black hit of space" - the human league :: "dog eat dog" - adam & the ants :: "hit that perfect beat" - bronski beat :: "edge of seventeen" - stevie knicks :: "girls on film" - duran duran :: "legs" - the art of noise :: "the telephone always rings" - fun boy three :: "dead pop stars" - altered images :: "cars" - gary numan :: "get the balance right!" - depeche mode :: "plaza" - john foxx :: "showroom dummies" - kraftwerk :: "acceleration" - bill nelson :: "1981 - 2011" - public image ltd :: "ghost town" - the specials :: "up all night" - the boomtown rats :: "the damned don’t cry" - visage :: "the last of the international playboys" - morrissey :: "secret life" - soft cell :: "just give ‘em whiskey" - colourbox :: "sweetheart contract" - magazine :: "to cut a long story short" - spandau ballet :: "every 1's a winner" - hot chocolate :: "shoulder pads 1#" - the fall :: "the american" - simple minds :: "walking on thin ice (pet shop boys electro mix)" - yoko ono

[gapless playback and automix on - crossfade 5s]

#spotify #playlist #music playlist #now playing #concept playlist #mixtape #1980s #80s #80s aesthetic #80s music #synthesizer #synthwave #new wave #post punk #electronic music #alternative rock #electronic #industrial #indie music #morrissey #duran duran #retrowave #vaporwave #ambient #synthpop #retro #lofi

[cartermagazine]

Today We Honor Phyllis Hyman

Phyllis Linda Hyman was an American singer-songwriter and actress, born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania July 6, 1949. She was best known for her singles from the late 1970s through the early 1990s including: You Know How to Love Me, Living All Alone, and Don’t Wanna Change the World.

She performed on a national tour with the group, New Direction. Later she joined All the People while working with another group, The Hondo Beat. She made her acting debut in 1974 in the film Lenny. Hyman also led a group called Phyllis Hyman and the P/H Factor.

Hyman’s debut solo album named Phyllis Hyman was released in 1977 on Buddah Records. When Arista Records bought Buddah Records, she transferred to the new label and released four albums: Somewhere in My Lifetime (1979), You Know How to Love Me (1979), Can’t We Fall in Love Again? (1981), and Goddess of Love (1983).

She also performed on Broadway in the musical, Sophisticated Ladies, the tribute play for Duke Ellington. For that work, she received a Tony Award, nominated for Best Supporting Actress in a Musical, and won a Theatre World Award for Best Newcomer.

In 1983 Hyman recorded the song “Never Say Never Again” for the James Bond movie of the same name which starred Sean Connery but the song she recorded couldn’t be used for the movie soundtrack due to legal reasons. In 1986 Hyman released the album, Living All Alone, on the Philadelphia International label. She also appeared in the movies, Too Scared to Scream (1985), Spike Lee’s School Daze (1988), and The Kill Reflex (1989).

In 1991 Phyllis Hyman released the album, The Prime of My Life, on Philadelphia International, which was the biggest album of her career. It included her first number-one R&B hit as well her first Billboard Top 100 hit, Don’t Wanna Change the World. The album, her last released while she was alive, was certified gold by 1992.

Phyllis Hyman… One of the Greatest Artists of our Lifetime.

CARTER™️ Magazine carter-mag.com #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #historyandhiphop365 #cartermagazine #carter #phyllishyman #music #blackhistorymonth #blackhistory #history #spikelee #schooldaze #staywoke

#carter magazine #carter #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth

[hooked-on-elvis]

The article piece is an excerpt from the Tiger Beat magazine issue from December 1969 (Page 38). Tiger Beat was a teen music magazine, but in spite of that they had Elvis featured on the magazine pretty frequently. Elvis was not a teen idol at this point, he was an all time favorite. Everybody loved him and wanted to know about him. ♥

About the article, well... EP was exquisite, at this moment of his life specially. Even in pictures we can see that but it's curious to read people's impression on Elvis, seeing him face to face. "You want to lean over and touch his skin to make certain he's not a well-made wax statue," man, that's something interesting to say.

It's unbelievable how someone can be this handsome, specially a man. There never was a man more handsome than EP. There never will be. Sure, there's some pretty faces and bodies around there. Not "Elvis pretty", but pretty. We'll give 'em that.

After the August 1st, 1969 Press conference in Las Vegas, Nevada, Elvis was interviewed by Tiger Beat columnist Ann Moses. — Article published by Ann Moses, on her Facebook page on August 11th, 2023.✨

Elvis Presley Press Conference at International Hotel, Las Vegas on August 1, 1969.

#elvis magazine #elvis presley #elvis the king #rock and roll #royalty #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis #elvis history #60s elvis #las vegas

[slexenskee]

Ru-kun’s Excessive Guitar Collection

Fell down a rabbit hole debating what guitar Ru-kun plays and decided there was no reason to narrow it down to one lol. Also he’s totally the type to just have way more guitars (and shoes) then he could possibly ever use and should totally have one of those epic guitar walls whenever he gets around to making that recording room.

Squier Contemporary Jaguar HH ST Electric Guitar (Sky Burst Metallic): His first guitar. He bought it as a teenager living in Endeavor’s house to a) make noise and piss his father off and b) because he really liked the color. It’s still his favorite. He played it in his junior-high garage band Band Aids. Fans saw a bit of it during the first few years of No Scrubs’ live shows, back when they still played in tiny dive bars and Ru-kun was so close you could touch him 😭. It makes fans very nostalgic whenever they catch sight of it. 

Fender American Ultra Stratocaster Electric Guitar (Arctic Pearl): Another guitar he bought because it was very pretty (let’s be real, that’s the reason he bought all of them). Achieved critical acclaim as a fan favorite when Ken-chan grabbed it out of his hands on stage and threatened to beat a belligerent drunk out of the venue with it. She was talked out of it after Ru-kun said she’d have to pay for a new one if she busted it over some guy’s head. 

Gibson Les Paul Traditional Pro V Flame Top Electric Guitar (Blueberry Burst): Super glossy beautiful guitar with a great sound. Recorded the albums Thanks I Hate it Here and Good News for People Who Love Bad News with this guitar. He also gives it away in MDNSY Ch 39 to Shouto, who treasures this beauty as it deserves, even if he really doesn’t know how to play it all that well. 

Gretsch “Stump-O-Matic” Electromatic Electric Guitar (White): He really likes to play this one during live shows, very versatile and unfussy. Played it all throughout the ‘Scrubs Unite’ tour and eventually gives it away to Izuku in MDNSY Ch 38(?) and reclaims it briefly in FLW Ch 29 to play Say It Ain’t So. 

Gibson Lzzy Hale Signature Explorerbird Electric Guitar (Cardinal Red): His guitar for the “I’m never going to Hosu again” show Makoto dragged them all to during their hiatus in MDNSY Ch 15, aka the guitar he serenaded Tensei with 🤣 Also recorded Glass Onion Heart on this guitar, bc I love the idea of him playing Misery Business on this baby. He also posed for his magazine cover for Sound & Sundry in FLW Ch 20 with this guitar. 

D’Angelico Premier Series Gramercy LS Acoustic Guitar (Matte Sky Burst): I call this the Limitless guitar cause it’s just the perfect color to match his eyes lol. He went out and bought this just to record the acoustic album Tensei guilt-tripped him into making, Don’t You Know Who I (Think) I Am. Also serenaded Hawks with it during the No Scrubs radio interview with Present Mic in FLW Chapter 23. 

Fender American Pro II Stratocaster Electric Guitar (Miami Blue): Very cool vintage blue guitar he recorded Death Before Decaf on, bc I love the very neon 90′s era look and I love the idea of him playing Nirvana/Weezer/3EB tributes (even if no one knows they’re tributes) on it even more. It’s also Yui’s favorite guitar, for obvious reasons. Did he buy it because he knows it’s her favorite color? Probably. He already promised he’d never sell off his collection (gifting them is another story) but he especially promised not to part with this one. It’s a legacy guitar that’s going to end up in the hands of someone special someday (aka Eri lol)

Fender H.E.R Stratocaster (Chrome Glow): I have been told rather reliably by the mysteriously large amount of friends I have in indie bands that there’s no such thing as too many guitars, and on a related note, no such thing as too many Stratocasters. I am obsessed with H.E.R’s stratocaster and I can 100% envision it being custom made by Fender for Ru-Kun once No Scrubs reaches the international critical acclaim they deserve. He names it Infinity, and records the album Infinity on High with it. In recorded performances for the album he alternates between this one and the Gibson Explorerbird. 

Duesenberg USA Starplayer Electric Guitar (Crimson Red): Yet another stunning guitar with a very vintage vibe. I was so torn on whether I liked the black one or the red one more bc both are so beautiful. Let’s be real he probably buys both but plays the red one live just because it’s pretty and shiny and red always reminds him of Hawks’s wings ♡ Records the May Death Never Stop You album on this baby, and plays the tour of the same name. Also the guitar 

Taylor 614ce Special-Edition Grand Auditorium Acoustic-Electric Guitar: Has a lot of Feelings™ and goes out and drops 3k on this baby just because it reminds him of Hawks and that’s got him feeling a way and records his second acoustic album with it. He absolutely plays a lot of Anti-Hero on it, just bc the brand name lol 

#fic may death never stop you #I spent way too much time on this tbh #but they're sooo pretty #mdnsy FAQ

[douevenbleachbro]

I was excited for Rukia week as I always am, but the brain is dry and shriveled after the IR Big Bang, so this is all I could write for my Queen.

Rukia week 2024 Day 2: ❆ Fashion Brand

Title: By Desing (WIP) Rated T

“You are the spitting image of your sister! Hisana would be proud!”

Rukia gave them a small smile, bowing her head. She was the perfect picture of gratefulness and humility. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her late sister's legacy, after all. 

Except it had been Rukia the one that was obsessed with design and fashion and photography. It had been her stealing her mother's magazines and cutting out the beautiful models for her super secret scrapbook. She had been the one to take photography classes and sewing classes and beat out that pretentious Ishida Uryuu for the top spot at Tokyo International School of Design (a rivalry that eventually blossomed into a partnership when she started walking his Fashion Week shows).

But Hisana was the one with the looks. The soft eyes and small lips, long legs, and beatific smile made for the perfect model. It was like the sun chased her. Everyone just naturally wanted to be around her. She hated it though. She hated having her picture taken and being the center of attention in that way. Unfortunately, a few bad financial decisions and subsequent death of their parents at the hands of a drunk driver, left the sisters in ruins and forced them to find jobs wherever they could get them. So Rukia took the pictures whilst Hisana modeled, until an agency got a hold of her and made her into a star. Hisana’s stardom was bright but ephemeral. The president of the agency, Byakuya Kuchiki, fell for her head over heels and gave her his name after less than a year of dating. Their wedding was elegant and grand. Rukia designed Hisana’s dress and cleaned it in silence when Hisana coughed blood onto it. Six months later Hisana died, taking the sun with her. 

Whatever veil that covered Rukia seemed to have lifted after Hisana’s passing. Everyone had eyes for her as they desperately tried to get back some of Hisana Kuchiki’s magic. But Rukia had none of that. She was not warm and calm like the ocean waters during the rising sun. She was cold and tempestuous like the water during a full moon. Her eyes were dark and hard, her voice too deep. The designers and photographers would overlook Rukia searching for Hisana where they could, and she allowed it. A part of her still yearned for the childhood dreams of high-fashion and runways, so she took the gigs and walked the shows as Hisana’s little sister. She even took Byakuya’s last name as his sister in his life-long quest to give Hisana everything she ever asked for. Now she walked as Rukia Kuchiki, Hisana’s shadow.

During the height of Fashion Week in Paris, Rukia had once again caught the attention of the fashion world as she walked Uryuu Ishida’s show once more. This time he had brought on a new photographer – an up and coming prodigy named Ichigo Kurosaki. Dark eyes and bright hair, his leather wearing, cigarette smoking bad boy reputation preceded him. He was quick with his camera, capturing the perfect moment in an instant. Apparently he and Uryuu went to school together, which he brought up as he introduced Ichigo to Rukia. She couldn’t help but bristle under his intense stare. His eyes moved with her, following her every step. It would’ve bothered her a lot more if she wasn’t so used to being stared at. Although he didn’t just stare. He observed her. His eyes were on her whenever they were close, making the hairs on her nape stand. He rarely smiled but was never mean or cold. He maneuvered her like priceless marble, like glass. When she modeled for him, he barely even directed her. She would just stand before him and the flashes would go off, his smoky whisky eyes following her. Ichigo’s large hands cupped her chin gently, moving her face slightly from side to side, studying her profile. His fingers moved her hair away from her face, fingertips ghosting the length of her neck. If he wasn’t so close she would’ve gasped, instead she swallowed, trying to keep as steady as possible as Ichigo worked. Finally turning to look directly into her already dilated eyes, Ichigo grinned.

“I’d hate to lose those eyes behind hair.”

Heat blanketed her face, rendering her speechless until he returned to his initial position and continued taking pictures. Rukia took a deep, calming breath and smiled, her voice taking the saccharine note it usually did during these things. 

“Of course. I do have my sister's eyes after all.”

“You look nothing like your sister,” Ichigo scoffed, not a note of humor in his tone. Rukia felt the blood rush from her face, leaving her cold and shaking. What did he mean by that? Everyone said she looked like her sister, that’s why she was always getting booked. Did he see something wrong with her? Could he see what others didn’t - that she was indeed not her sister - not as soft, not as bright, not as beautiful. Was that why he looked at her like that? The boning of her dress constricted her lungs, the lights were suddenly too bright. Her breath was coming up ragged and harsh, making her feel lightheaded. A warm hand grabbed onto her elbow, grounding her. Ichigo was in front of her again, this time his eyes filled with concern. He directed everyone to take five and to dim the lights, then guided her away from prying eyes into her dressing room. Once inside, Rukia immediately loosened her dress, allowing air to fill her lungs freely. Ichigo pressed a cold bottle of water into her hand, startling her to his presence. She was very used to getting dressed in the open and in public places, but today modesty decided to show its face. She gathered the front of her dress to her chest.

“Are you okay?” Ichigo asked softly, his voice low. Chugging the water, Rukia nodded, gasping at the feeling of the cool water refreshing her heated body. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there with only the sound of her breathing filling the room. Her head was swimming with thoughts, all negative, about her past and her sister and all the things that could’ve been and weren’t. Hot tears threatened to spill over, but she fought them back, unwilling to allow this man to see her cry. But there he stood, not taking his eyes off of her, apparent worry radiating out of him and not a drip of annoyance or judgment. That alone almost made her break. 

After what felt like hours (it had been more like 5 minutes. The crew decided to take their lunch break), Ichigo shifted, moving closer. His hands hovered close, as if they wanted desperately to touch her. 

“Rukia,” the sound of her name in his voice gave her goosebumps and brought her out of her thoughts. She took a steading breath.

“I’m sorry I don’t look like her,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. Ichigo frowned.

“What a dumb thing to apologize for,” he replied, head tilted. The frown was still there, now accompanied by a small grin. Now Rukia was frowning.

“I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I don’t think you look like your sister, is all. I mean, yeah she was beautiful but you…you’re…”

Weaker? Shorter? Colder?

“Stronger.”

“Huh?” Was all she could muster, too taken aback by his response, “What do you mean?”

Sighing, Ichigo got closer, taking her chin in his hands. Rukia didn’t think her eyes could get any wider as he moved her face slowly from side to side, studying her profile just like earlier.

“Your profile is much stronger. You have rounder cheeks which makes you look more youthful. Your lips are fuller,” his eyes dropped to her lips, which she couldn’t help making into a pout. The look in his eyes was making her nervous, “and your eyes.”

“Everyone says we have the same eyes,” she muttered. Ichigo scoffed.

“Everyone is stupid. Anyone with working eyes can tell they’re very different. I like yours better,” he grinned at her again, making her blush. She blew air out her mouth in frustration. 

“Do you always say what’s on your mind?”

“Yes. Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?” He tilted her head closer, the distance between them shorter. Rukia shook her head.

“Show me.”

Without hesitation, Ichigo closed the gap between them with a searing kiss, leaving her breathless. Her heart had never felt this light and for the first time, she saw herself, her true self, in the eyes of the man who loved her for her and her alone.

#Rukia week 2024 #IchiRuki #I'm gonna prep for IR week #All my fics are IR anyways so... #Which is why I didn't even finish this one #cause it didn't really feel like a fic for Rukia week

[queenimmadolla]

have you heard the song "more than words" by extreme??? i feel like thats SOOOO an eddie song like... him playing it on his acoustic guitar and singing it for reader on a rainy day 🥺 just soft eddie 💜😭

my hand flew over my mouth, i am FLABBERGASTED that my puny brain has never granted me this concept before omg, pls I gotta turn it into a drabble, I GOTTA!

warnings: fluff and mentions of cyanide (he’s not gonna do it, he’s just in a silly goofy mood)

You loved rainy days in general, but rainy days at Eddie’s trailer were the epitome of peace. You’d slept over the night before and when you’d woken to the pretty trill of raindrops hitting the outside of the trailer, it was obvious the day was also going to be a lazy one.

It was spent co-existing in his messy ass room (that in itself seemed to comfort you for some reason), Wayne was still asleep so you didn’t want to disturb him anymore than you had to, having already washed up earlier.

You were curled on top of a blanket piled into the corner of Eddie’s bed, thoroughly engrossed in the latest edition of Heavy Metal. You’d developed a little bit of an obsession with it. Eddie was spread out on the bed, his legs parallel to you as he worked on a couple of chords for a song Corroded Coffin was working on. Since Wayne was still asleep, it was all acoustic so he could be as quiet as possible, though Wayne slept like the dead. (You once had to settle a very drunk Eddie in for bed after a night at the Hideout and Eddie had managed to knock just about everything noisy down, banging into the little furniture the trailer housed. Wayne hadn’t even stirred but the second you touched the remote to turn the TV off after you noticed he fell asleep with it on, his eyes had shot open.)

You’d almost been done with the Clan of the Cave Bears story when Eddie’s playing turned into something soft, much too delicate for Corroded Coffin’s discography. You looked up from the magazine to find his stare already on you as he strummed.

His lips curled into a pleased smile when he realized he had your attention.

You’d heard Eddie sing a million times already. Still didn’t stop you from internally (and more often than not, externally) swooning.

“Saying "I love you" is not the words I want to hear from you. It's not that I want you, not to say but if you only knew.” He started crooning out, fingers gently tapping against the body of the guitar, in rhythm with the beat and breaks.

You were absolutely enchanted with him, cheeks warm under his attention and very shy, your face partially hidden by the magazine. Regardless of how long the two of you had been together, he still gave you butterflies.

Eddie loved the effect he had on you, which is why he loved to keep his focus on you. Well, that and he was perpetually mesmerized by your existence and your pretty face.

By the time the song was concluded—Eddie letting his fingers freestyle with the last couple of chords—you were a puddle on the bed and radiating happiness.

He pursed his lips in exaggeration but you could still make out the corners of them twisting up, he was trying to contain his own happiness.

“I like that one.”

“I love you,” He replied and you laughed. “I like it, too. Not too terrible.”

You rolled your eyes in fondness. Eddie had taught himself to play it, which meant something considering he didn’t bother learning songs he didn’t like. Unless, it was to impress you, of course.

“You like it.”

“I love you,” he repeated, then proceeded to send you the world’s most fake, menacing glare. “So, you’re just not gonna say it back, huh? That’s fine. I mean I’m totally swallowing cyanide tonight, but it’s fine. AHEM.”

“You said you didn’t want to hear it from me!” You were referring to the first verse of the song.

“See, that’s the last time I ever sing anything I didn’t write. Thanks a lot, Extreme.” 

Eddie readjusted the guitar in his arms, nose haughtily upturned and when you only laughed again, eyes crinkled at how amusing your boyfriend was, he chuckled and set the guitar down so it was leaning against the bed before stretching his arms out, fingers clenching and unclenching as he made grabby hands.

“Would you just come over here already? I know you hate me but you could show me some affection, it’s not like I just serenaded your panties off or anything.” 

You were still smiling as you set the magazine down to crawl over to him.

“That’s right, come to daddy.” Eddie gathered you up in his arms, yanking you onto his lap as you shifted around to curl into him, his chin resting on your head.

“Shut up!” You swatted his side, pressing your smile into his neck.

“You’re so mean to me.”

“No, I’m not! I’m simply creatively nice to you.”

Eddie guffawed, chest shaking with his chuckles. You leaned back a little to look up at him and he angled his head down to meet your gaze.

“I love you. Very much. Like, with all of my heart. That organ is all yours. And thank you for singing to me, I love it when you do that.”

Eddie leaned down to give you a kiss. You assumed it would be an innocent one so when his tongue came out to play, it caught you by surprise. 

“Eddie!” 

“Shhh, just let me put it in your mouth.”

“That’s what he said,” you mumbled as you leaned back in.

“That’s what I’m gonna say,” he promised, grinning so wide you were practically kissing his teeth.

“Childish.”

“No, I’m your baby.”

“You’re my baby.” You agreed as he pulled you under the blankets to snuggle the rest of the day away.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things vol 2 #joseph quinns #joe quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader