#Blink and you'll miss it

[fyeaheddiemunson]

*sound on*

[ascesabo]

sometimes i want to reach through the screen and shake sabo by the shoulders because. god. there's just so much going on with him.

he's first introduced through the veil of luffy's memories- here he's just another feral jungle kid, sticking it out with ace and luffy, the 'nicer' brother in young luffy's eyes. and then boom. you find out he's a runaway noble trying to escape his abusive, neglectful family- and this changes nothing, they still get to become sworn brothers, but just as quickly as this is resolved, his asshole of a dad takes the three of them hostage. and what does sabo do? he gives up the little sliver of freedom he'd fought for, is willing to become miserable and lonely again if it means ace and luffy are spared. and then he comes home to find that in his absence, his parents have already found a replacement! great!

and he doesn't even get to address how fucked up that is, because stelly runs his mouth and now sabo's too busy trying to figure out how to stop his brothers and their home from getting burnt to the ground. he never gets to give them a proper goodbye- he exhausts himself trying to reach them, but he can't because. you know. he's ten. so where does this leave sabo? ten years old, with nowhere to go- he sets out to sea to try and start over, and for the crime of wanting to escape a terrible life, he's punished with an explosion to the face. he loses his memories, his brothers lose him- and so the cycle continues.

then the army saves him, takes him in; he's essentially a child soldier, with how prodigious of a fighter he is from the get-go. but hey, he thinks he's finally found his footing, even if his past's a blur to him- then it all comes flooding back. in the worst way possible. he sees his brother's corpse and he remembers, but it doesn't matter, does it? he's too late, ace is gone, and sabo's lost ten years of a life he could have shared with his brothers. we don't even know how (if, even) he recovers from this- except for a single passing statement from koala, asking him if he's 'had that dream again' because he'd been crying in his sleep. this is never brought up or addressed again. great!plus, we never do find out if getting blown up at the ripe old age of ten could have left any lasting fire-related trauma; and if it does, what does that mean for sabo, who's pretty much made of it, now?

both of these questions are answered at once- sabo treats the fire as if it's ace. it's ace's legacy he's carrying on, and it's ace he seeks freedom for. he copes by making sure ace lives on in his flames, and how can he ever hate the fire living in him if that fire is all he has left of the brother he never got to see again?

i just have to wonder about him, because he's got so many Issues that just. don't ever get addressed? every time we see him deal with his grief (episode of sabo, his own retelling of events in dressrosa) we never really discover anything about him. i wonder how it felt to finally remember the childhood that eluded him, just to find out he was an unwanted, replacable child. how he feels, living with the knowledge that he could have done something to save ace, that he'd failed to remember the two people he loved the most? i wonder just how terribly that guilt must weigh down on him- because where luffy's already begun to heal, sabo still sees ace in everything he does. his title of flame emperor is a direct callback to ace's final attack in his fight against blackbeard. he talks to his goddamn fire like his brother is still in front of him, which is sweet and heartbreaking and, considering his backlog of unaddressed trauma... incredibly unhealthy. i know these will probably be left unresolved for the sake of moving the story forward- but god, sabo, are you okay?

[faunandfloraas]

👋🍑~

[t00thpasteface]

one thing i've noticed about my dad is that if i spend at least two full days in a row with him, whether it's for hunting trips or visiting family out of town or whatever, he will volunteer a story about one (1) traumatic event he never told anyone else before, and then we'll have a conversation like the one we had before stopping to pick prickly pears the other day, where he shared a deeply personal anecdote from his childhood and then followed it up with "i dunno why i never told my parents about that" and i said "dad, that's probably because you felt humiliated and ashamed... you probably just wanted to forget it ever happened :(" and he said "oh huh. maybe." and then we go right back to singing along to rush

[sentient-stove]

“Wait, him?”

Who else did the other think Frank was talking about? Hazel only had one brother.

“Yep.”

Leo tore out the paper he was sketching on, crumpling it into a ball before throwing it at the trash can at the edge of the bleachers. It made it in and only then did the upperclassman look at Frank, mouth screwed into a frown. “He’s a mall goth.”

“Okay so?”

“I’m straight.”

“Half the school literally watched you make out with the captain of the swim team and the captain of the track team for homecoming game last year.” Frank countered. “You’re a bisexual bitch.”

“Woah big guy, no need to insult me.” Leo held up his hands in surrender. “One—”

“Technically two,”

“Technically two make out sessions in front of peers does not a bisexual bitch make. Plus Percy was definitely high when we made out and his girlfriend is the better kisser.”

Frank actually did not want to know that information. “I’ll pay you twenty dollars per date.”

“Babygirl that won’t even cover gas prices. Say I take mr emo to a movie. That’s thirty bucks for two tickets, additional ten for a large popcorn and you know we’re gonna want to split a slushie since the cinemax has the cola flavor the gas stations don’t. That’s another eight bucks. Nah, I want seventy-five per date.”

“No way.” Frank automatically responded. “That’s way too much per date.”

“Enjoy not being able to kiss your girlfriend while I collect all the sports captains then.”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Hey S! My mind is in the gutter again (when is it not?) and I mean after all these years Anthony (Mackie) must’ve walked in on Chris and Sebastian doing the dirty.

So imagine: They’re filming catws and I don’t think that Chris and Sebastian would have told him about their relationship. Yeah, maybe they know that Anthony has his suspicions and they’d be okay with him knowing, but they just haven’t had that talk yet, y know. And Anthony’s a smart man, he already knows, gives them knowing glances (we’ve seen them enough in interviews). But then, they go film on a different location and they stay in hotel rooms. It’s already late, maybe they all went out for drinks after filming and Chris and Sebastian got back earlier to have some fun of their own. When they check in and they go to their room, they don’t open all the doors, because they’re too busy getting each other naked and finding the bed.

Anthony on the other hand also came back, he got the room next door. He does open all the doors and sadly, the hotel forgot to close the door that intertwines the rooms (like for families and or people who want a really big room?) and there right in front of him. Is Sebastian riding the living hell out Chris, moaning at Chris’ dirty talk. Anthony screamed like a 9yo girl (he would never admit it) traumatized by the sight, but happy for his friends.

From that moment on Anthony’s their proud supporter and he will forever tease them about their sex life.

Okay so sorry for that, but I needed to get that out and I really want a better writer (like you, Sir;)) to write this.

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Hey! Lmao, fair enough, I fucking feel that shit. I live in the gutter at this point. I do not leave. And as far as poor, poor Anthony having to put up with Chris and Sebastian's shit...

May I interest you in this semi-recent ask answer from Minnie (@musette22) on this exact subject? Because, fuck yeah, you're not the only one thinking about it, lol. Also, though, I will add to that ask answer with another fic rec from Minnie that sort of fits the bill. Depending on how you look at it, haha. Technically Mackie doesn't walk in on them, he's already there when they get started, but still, I love the fic! It's "Intervention" by musette22 on AO3. Highly recommend!

Imagine, yes, though, I will 👀

(This was going to be actual smut, but then I couldn't help myself, and it turned into crack, so, my apologies. But I think I had more fun writing Mackie getting punked, anyway 💀💀)

Anthony has been dragged around on his fair share of film sets and he's been in the middle of fucking nowhere for that shit before. Thank you, no thank you, Hurt Locker, in the middle of the goddamn desert with practical explosions that blew them back onto their asses. Literally.

So, he thinks he's pretty damn lucky to have it nice and cushy this time as far as filming locations go. First in Cali, L.A. babyyy, then Washington D.C., and now Ohio. Sure, Ohio is a fucking abyss in the middle but Cleveland isn't so bad. It's nice. The location, the film budget, and his friends. It's all nice. Chris is a good buddy, Sebastian he hasn't seen much of but he's getting to know more every time he does and they have a scene together, and Scarlet, well, Anthony wants to see a hell of a lot more of Scarlet. Maybe before the movie and press are up he can convince Chris to tell him the secret to working on too many fucking movies with the same person. Yeah, that'd be good. He's gonna do that. That's a good plan.

He's set up good. He's got a good life. And he's had a good fucking night, following Evans around in downtown, club to bar to club to club--who knew Cleveland would have so many places to party, goddamn--after a day of relentless filming.

At some point after tipsy but before outrageously drunk, where Anthony is now, Chris and Sebastian split off from the group and disappeared. Anthony didn't let himself worry about it, they got it covered, and knowing how Chris gets when the lights go down, he was probably just off to a different place with some new friend he made and charmed the pants off of. It's no big deal. Everybody's having a good time.

Everybody was having a good time.

Now, he's been shuttled by taxi back to their newest hotel in their string of hotels over these past months of filming and stumbling into the lobby, falling into the elevator, and toddling toward his room as he shoves his hands in all his pockets, searching for wherever the hell he left that keycard. He's got it somewhere. It's a little hard to find, though, when his world is spinning off its axis and he's warm and loose with liquor. His fingers buzz and feel good, but can't really grab anymore.

It takes Anthony a few minutes, swaying in front of his door, to get into his room, but he does eventually. And, for another few minutes, he thinks that's it. That's all the fanfare for the evening, y'all. No more gaggles of lighting and film crews, no more well-meaning but pestering PAs, no more directors calling cut to confer, pressing their heads together like a two-headed expert, no more crowds of sweaty, writhing bodies, dancing, singing along to music loud enough to make his ears ring, rowdy shouts for "shots, shots, shots!" or cheering calls chug whatever is left in your glass. Just him and his hotel room.

After giving up on finding the lightswitch, Anthony's trying to figure out where the fuck his suitcase got dumped by one of the personal assistants without tripping over it or smacking into it first. Fuck it, he'll settle for just not smacking into the corners or walls, never mind his suitcase. It's fucking fine. He can just strip out of his shoes, socks, and pants, fiddling with his belt and dumb, drunk fingers, rip his shirt off, and he'll be good. The pile of clothes he leaves behind like a shedded snaked skin is sober Anthony's problem. That's a morning issue (just like the pounding headache he knows he'll have, but it's fine, tomorrow's Saturday anyhow).

But, his mission to get naked and fall into his hotel bed, ruining the nicely done sheets, and pass the fuck out is interrupted by two things that filter into his conception of the spinning world at once.

One) Someone is knocking? Hitting? Something? Squeak, squeak, squeak, it happens again and again and again. It's probably someone knocking on his fucking door at whatever ass o'clock it is but why the fuck now. It can't be call time already.

Two) His lights are on. Motion sensors? That, or, he hit a switch as he fell into the wall, slapping his hand out to catch himself. What the fuck.

While Anthony is trying to blearily figure out both of those things that hit him at once like a backhand across the drunk, uncoordinated face it comes to him. The understanding, that is.

Ah. Boom. Figured it out. Easy as shit. He's smart as fuck. There's an open door in his hotel room and Chris and Sebastian are fucking so hard that the bed over there, in that lights-on room, is hitting the wall.

Wait--

There's an open door in his hotel room?

Wait.

Chris and Sebastian are fucking?

They're fucking in his hotel room?

What.

Anthony reels back immediately after having just pushed off the wall in the first place, falling back against the drywall and slapping both hands palm-down onto the wall, needing support while his head spins faster than the world around him. He gawks at what he sees, blinking his blurry eyes hard, trying to figure out if what he's seeing it real.

Unfortunately for him, it is.

There's an open fucking door in his hotel room that leads straight to Chris and Sebastian in their room and Chris and Sebastian are all sorts of tangled up.

There's Chris, lazing back against the headboard of the bed. And there's Sebastian, straddling Chris' lap, his legs quivering, his arms trapped behind his back, caught in one of Chris' hands by the wrist, and his neck arched, head thrown back. Sebastian's bouncing in Chris' lap, moving so fast that he's really just a fucking blur of horny movement.

He's riding Chris hard.

So hard, that that's what the fucking noise is. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Their poor bed is screaming out for help under their enthusiasm, the springs squeaking beneath them, so loud they're nearly the same volume as Chris' voice, rumbling smooth and pressed into Sebastian's throat that's blushing bright pink and looks to have been mauled (oh my god, makeup is going to hate them). Sebastian throws himself into that too, not one to be outdone in his performance, and moans, guttural with its depth yet needy and high in pitch, "d-AH!-daddy!"

Anthony's eyes go so fucking wide they probably fucking bulge out of his head.

Oh. my. god.

This is blackmail material.

Anthony takes a single hysterical, terrible, hilarious second to recognize what the fuck he's seeing--the white-boy fuck he's seeing--and then, instantly, lurch forward the handful of steps he has to make it through, off-balance to get to the door. When he's finally close enough, Anthony slaps a hand out, gets it around the door handle, and slams that fucking door shut, sealing their rooms off from one another. Giving everyone the privacy they all desperately need.

Oh my god, he thinks again, dizzy.

Anthony ends up leaning back against the door he's just rushed to shut, needing support before he falls to the floor in a mess of drunken limbs and fucked-up reaction timing. His heart is beating out of his chest, double time with his alcohol-thinned blood rushing faster, faster, faster. It pumps loudly through his ears.

Chuckling in horror and pure hilarity, Anthony reconciles that he's never gonna fucking look either of them in the eyes ever. again.

What the hell.

He can't believe none of the staff thought to or paid enough attention to shut that door! What are the chances of that? That needs to be on the room clean-up checklist! What if there had been a fucking murderer next door? What if his suitcase and shit were dropped and the person next door just walked through a stole it? Also, fuck, he can't believe neither of them told him! Not the staff, but the idiots fucking next door. He's known Chris for, like, forever. Relationships--friends with benefits, serious, or otherwise--are important!

And, hold on, numbers zoom around in his head, too fast for his drunk ass--when did the first Captain America come out? When would that have been filmed then? How long ago was that? Did they start messing around then? It's gotta be right? And if it is, then it's been a good fucking while. Why wasn't he told? He wouldn't go gossiping, Chris knows that. He wouldn't loved to know. He would've cheered Chris on, he's cool, man. They're friends! Tight friends. That asshole, leaving him out of the loop.

Asshole is the wrong fucking insult to think of because then he's seeing the two of them together all over again in his head and hearing the noises Sebastian was making and, ugh, Anthony shakes his head to get rid of it only, leaning more so back up against the slammed-shut door, Anthony can hear them.

They're laughing.

They're laughing, those shameless motherfuckers.

Laughing and probably kissing because the sounds go quiet for a second but then they're back. And then Sebastian's distinctive, uncontrollable giggle that he gets going sometimes when he's tired and loopy and Chris is making dumb, shitty jokes is there. Half that giggle and half-gasping, moaning sounds that make Anthony have no choice but to pound on the door with his fist (which is probably the liquor talking, if he's honest, there are other options), shouting, "I'm gonna call the front desk and file a noise complaint, you loud fuckers! I swear to god! I am!" He's teasing and his voice is slurred from the drinks he had tonight, so there's no real threat, but it's annoying that those dicks (again, wrong fucking word for his mind's eye) don't take him seriously at all.

In fact, to make matters worse, Sebastian has the gall to sass him back through the wall, loud and almost joyful as he verbally sticks his tongue out at him, "m'kaa-ah!-yy! Mmm-hmm! You, you do that!" Reacting sharply, moaning-gasping more, to whatever Chris is doing to him.

Helplessly, Anthony laughs at him, shaking his head.

What is his life?

How did he get here?

Why are these his friends?

At least, for the most part, they do seem to try and keep it down as much as they can after that. No problem, though, Anthony is already planning to spend the time they keep him up workshopping all the embarrassing jokes he can make at their expense tomorrow. He can't wait to see their stupid faces when he knows and prods at them but no one else does. It's gonna be fucking hilarious. He's hilarious. He'll show 'em. Those assholes.

Bonus:

this video of Mackie [indirectly] calling them kinky

and this picture because it's so funny to me

[captain-ghost]

Which is barely worth calling a cameo, it's more like an easter egg, but yes he does

It's series 8 episode 5 (25:46) if you're curious enough to look.

[wwerasliin-sideblog]

unpopular opinion —

I swear heel Cody in disguise definitely knows what he keeps doing to Kevin. He knew how Kevin felt about the whole I'll give you a shot at my title match, yet he played on Kevin's emotions, just right, manipulating him into doing it anyway.

He took advantage of their friendship and all that comes with it - knowing Kevin's weaknesses and using it. He forced him into something he really didn't want and wasn't comfortable with doing in the first place.

And, then, after the fact clings onto Kevin and has the gall to act all hurt when Kevin just wanted to be left alone, wanting a bit of space right after the devastating blow of loosing his match to Cody.

Especially, when he didn't want to fight Cody to begin with. Cody, who couldn't even give it his 100% because he was 'hurt'. That in itself putting Kevin at a 'disadvantage'. Because, now, he is being extra careful with Cody. Trying to be "good" and not take advantage of Cody's weakness, unlike Cody taking advantage of his.

But Cody knowing all that, knowing that Kevin is struggling, is having all this inner turmoil about the whole situation still went through with it. Forced Kevin into a match for his own gain.

And, now. He's teaming up with with the man (Roman) that's given Kevin so much grief over the past 4 years. Unrelentingly. Not just in a faux superficial kind of way. But, a genuinely intense, destructive and brutal rivalry. Made to make Kevin's life miserable.

And, then, Cody just comes out here last night, acting like nothing's changed. Pulling Kevin into another one of his hugs, again, clinging onto him, again. Kevin, giving into it. Again.

So yea I wouldn't mind at all if Kevin turned heel on his ass. But, I feel like Cody has already turned heel on our assess right under our noses and we just haven't realised it yet. We've been too busy being enamored by his shiny "American Nightmare" persona, that we've completely missed it. (also the things he said to Roman last night was low-key diabolical, mean and manipulative😂)

[pseudo-hero]

Quick Animated Character Appreciation: ROTSM Kon-El Gives Me HEART ATTACK

Have I made it clear yet how much I enjoy this version of Kon-El? I don't think I have: This sugar-high-on-a-1000, raging-hormone/in-puberty, outdated slang-having, cocky kid was the best thing from the Reign of the Supermen movie and the entirety of that two-parter saga. He was such an adorably annoying little showoff and hustler (at least at one point with Clark) who you could tell had mountains more of depth beneath the surface just waiting to jump out! Perfect combination of Clark/Superman and Lex Luthor in every way, too! I love, love, loved it! He was exactly how the character should ideally be written and portrayed imo! (Side Note: Look at the tears that the girl behind him to our right [in the second image] is shedding! She adores this Kon-El that much. And I don't blame her!)

Superboy to a not-actually-dead Superman a few minutes after meeting him: *Probably dumps his ocean-sized amount of trauma onto him which Lex has already put him through in the short amount of time that he and Lex have known each other and been in contact* "...Seriously. A room full of hungry...bizarros."

A "resurrected", oddly calm yet probably very concerned Superman: "Sounds harrowing."

Superboy, now seeing his chance to hustle a new home with his other dad: "Soo, can I live with you or not?"

Superman with months-worth of 5 o' clock shadow: *Doesn't even get a chance to think it over yet, much less respond, due to them being interrupted by Steel The Third Wheel (but also doesn't say no)*

Gosh I'm so sad/mad we'll never get see him in Superman Media again because they permanently deaded that universe!! 🥺 (Plus they forced us to watch him get slaughtered!!!! 😩) I won't forget him anytime soon though!! He'll stay in my primary color-painted heart!!!! 💛❤️💙

[seirindono]

Hi, hope you're doing well! Your comics is one of my favs, I really love your art style.

Not to make you feel pressured, but just a general question: would you be opening commissions again sometime this year? I'd love to support you more! ❤️

Way to hit me in the feels anon, hehe. Thank you!

Jokes aside, I've been too busy these last few months (and will be for the better part of the year) to take any commissions but I'm thinking of re opening them for a short while, yes!

Probably in July (summer break). Some slots are already reserved but I'll open a few more for last minute comms! You can also ask/remind me to tag you when they open so you don't miss it.

Anyhow, they're a nice help for sure and I'd be more than happy to draw your favorite skele, but no pressure on your side either, alright? (*´︶`*)╯

[aravenlovesfanfiction]

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[m3vl0vesu]

I don't want to be found, right?

WIP

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It was dark and cold, but when is it not? Especially in this cruel city, there is no escaping the eventual emptiness you feel. It seems like whenever your not hating yourself your distracting the hate. Of course it's not healthy, but of course you were going to deal with it on your own. Always have and...always will? It seemed like that until you kept on bumping into the one of the many masked heroes of Gotham. He seemed to always catch you during the worst times, once he literally did catch you. It was definitely weird with how many times you'd just end up spotting him in the corner of your eye, and sure there should've been more of a concern in your head but now someone cared. Albeit it was a crime-fighting stranger but it's better than no-one, it's better than before. Now whenever you cried there would be tanned hands to wipe the tears away and whisper sweet nothings in you ear until they stopped. Now? Maybe there was a reason to smile, a reason to be happy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: First actual post!! Uhm...this kinda sucks imo but let me know what you think! I'm always down for constructive criticism, just don'r be too mean please 🥺. Also still very new to tumblr, by lovelies <33

[courtingchaos]

Rent the Space Inside My Mind

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I PT 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: During a hazy afternoon y'all get a little lost in your heads. Eddie tells you a really funny joke.

A/N: Jesus christ this got away from me. I've had this open for two weeks (???) just chipping away and rewriting and deleting everything. I need it off my phone. I'm so sick of looking at it! I really hope you guys enjoy it! This one gets a little spicy? Nothing crazy, just some daydreaming and just All of The Pining Imaginable. I'm not sick of these two being oblivious yet, so strap in friends. (AlsoAlso, just tossing this out there this is 18+, and will just get worse as it goes on so like don't interact if your a lil baby please) Y'all wanna see the gif again?

Friday afternoons were very specifically You and Eddie hangout hours. Typically quiet, never boring, it now usually started with a blunt since someone (you) had broken someone else’s ( Eddie’s) bong. It had truly been an honest mistake and while Eddie held no grudges, he did miss watching you pull on the thick smoke, so many thoughts rushing at him in those few precious seconds. You’d cough, eyes watering and he’d wonder if you’d make the same sounds with him buried in your mouth.

Slow your roll, cowboy.

It’d been maybe an hour since you kicked his bedroom door in, a McDonald’s bag held in either hand.

“Oh my queen, is that what I think it is?”

“Literally six large fries dude.”

You toss one bag at him where he’s laying on his bed, and beeline for his dresser to drop your stuff. You glance up at his first love while you shuck your jacket off and he’s obviously watching you because he playfully says “Go on, give her a kiss. You know you want to.”

Looking over, you’re 100 percent right. Fries sticking out his mouth, he’s got that shit eating grin plastered on his face, his dimples deep and soft and you just want to grab him there with your thumb and middle finger pressed in and push him back into his pillow.

“I’m not kissing your guitar.” You say flatly.

You on the other hand…

He pouts at you while you start digging around the top drawer, looking for the party supplies.

“You know, I wouldn’t go all haphazard in my drawers like that if I were you.”

“What, afraid I’m gonna find something dirty again?” You throw that over your shoulder while you search for the pre roll you know should be in there.

“Ha ha ha”, Eddie mock laughs, getting up from the bed to open a different drawer in the dresser. “I moved it, made more sense over here.” He pulls out a small wooden box and closes the drawer quick. You quirk an eyebrow at him and dart your eyes between him and the drawer his hand is still on. He just smiles easy and shakes the wooden box at you.

“Oh look at you, a whole box now? What, loose weed in your socks not your thing anymore?” You tease him and pluck it out of his hands to dig through it.

“Aha!”, the blunt you had so lovingly rolled on Wednesday in his van, parked outside of your own trailer before you went in for the night. Made like a pinkie promise for Friday afternoon, he’d taken it with a bow of his head; a knight receiving the fair lady’s favor.

“I’ll guard it with my life.” He meant it too.

Eddie had watched you, completely enraptured, run the tip of your pink tongue along a seam of the blunt, the smallest glint of metal peaking out of your mouth. He had tried being as sly as he could be, but he was sure he’d been actively panting by the time you handed it to him. This little fucking thing clutched in his hand had seen more action from you than he ever would. For that, it stayed in his possession.

“You better, that’s the last of that bag.” You’d held the empty ziplock up when you got out of the van, shrugging at him. Eddie promised to pick up only the best from Rick before Friday, so you dug forty bucks out of your wallet for him.

He’d long ago stopped arguing with you about paying since you were the one with an actual job. The bookstore downtown took up three of your afternoons normally, which is why Friday Fundays were created. If Hellfire wasn’t meeting and he didn’t have band practice, he’d sometimes bum around bothering you and your few coworkers.

They had all taken a liking to Eddie, firstly because he was pretty well read, and could quote Tolkien at them fast as lighting. Most of the older women you worked with were just as easily charmed by his big dimpled smile and his abundance of ‘ma’am’s’.

Secondly, he was typically quiet but always respectful so because of this, every single one of them had asked you on multiple occasions if you two had started dating yet. Always prefaced with a big sigh, you’d tell them ‘Why no, of course not, he is actually just my friend.’ It would always end with them tittering and smiling, talking about how boys were never friends with girls like that when they were younger.

“Georgia, it’s 1983, times do change.” You’d reminded your coworker one evening while you both watched Eddie rifling through books on a bottom shelf. Georgia had leveled a look at you and said, “I think after 62 years, I’d see when a boy likes a girl.” You’d wanted to remind Georgia of her coke bottle glasses but kept that one to yourself.

Eddie didn’t like you, not like that. You were positive. The two of you had come together as friends, nothing more. It wasn’t his fault you’d turned 16 and suddenly became aware of his dimples when he smiled at you, or how big his hands were when he’d grab at you when the two of you roughhoused. You’d kept this attraction on complete lockdown for two years and you weren’t about to let Georgia from the bookstore pry it out of you.

Firstly, and Most Importantly, he was your pit buddy. Very early on in the friendship, still both 15 and fresh faced and trying desperately to get into local shows, you’d realized you were both pretty hardy individuals. After saving Eddie from a beating by a Senior boy and then the next week starting a fight over one of the first uses of ‘Freak’ towards him, it’d given both of you an idea of what you could handle.

And it was glorious.

You’d only ever had girlfriends before meeting Eddie and while you did genuinely like doing the girly things, no one ever wanted to do the tomboy things with you. Now though you suddenly had someone who wasn’t afraid of getting into it with you, especially in the middle of a crowd of moving bodies. The first show had been some local band playing just outside of Hawkins, they were metal-ish and loud and fast and it was everything Eddie had promised it’d be. The two of you had spent the hour after the show waiting for your mom and wrestling in the grass next to the venue, taking turns throwing each other on the ground. That night had been the most fun you’d had in a long time and by the time you both climbed into the back of your mom’s station wagon you were breathless and covered in grass and laughing.

Your mom dropped Eddie off with Wayne, apologizing for the dirt child she was leaving on his doorstep.

“I have no idea what happened in an hour.” She’d kind of laughed, and Wayne waved her off telling her Eddie had come home looking worse.

“Tell Ms. Helen thank you.” Wayne said, herding him inside while Eddie yelled out goodbyes and thank you’s. On the short ride to your trailer on the backend of the park, your mom had tried to grill you for information about Eddie. You were honest with her, that the grass and dirt was from play fighting and the few cuts on your knees were from going nuts during the concert. Obviously she was concerned, but she admitted to you before turning the car off,

“I’m just happy you’re making friends hun, that’s all I want.”

~

Holed up in Eddie’s room, the window cracked just barely to help circulate air and keep as much warm in, you take your normal position on the floor, leaned up against the bed. His head is hanging off the edge while he tries to blow smoke rings.

He waves the blunt in front your face and you wave him off while you dig through your book bag to find your D&D notes. Diamond Head is on low in the background and you hum along while you look for the scribbles you’d jotted down during lunch earlier.

“What tragic character have you created now?” His voice is deep from the smoke and the angle he has his head tilted at. You don’t even chance a glance sideways, just clench your jaw and flex your toes in your shoes.

“No one new, I was thinking of some like, extra story for my cleric.”

“Oh Christ, not the corn god again.”

“Yes the corn god, all praise Helio.” You say it with no emotion but hold your hands up in praise above you. Eddie rolls his eyes and copies you, muttering ‘Praise Helio’ under his breath.

The two of you fall into quiet conversation, passing the blunt back and forth until it’s hard to pinch, stubbed out in the ashtray next to your leg.

Honestly you thought Eddie had fallen asleep with how quiet he was so you’d shifted away from the bed to lay next to it on the floor. Engrossed in notes from one of Eddie’s DM binders (and a good steady high), you don’t notice him slowly moving to keep you in his line of sight. He had been close to sleep but you shifting had stirred up your perfume from your hair and pulled him from his daze. Something sweet and deep that hung around his room long after you’d left.

He had only recently really admitted to himself just how head over heels he was for you so this attention he was leveling at you was still surprising to him. In fact, he’d picked up a new little habit: small things of yours that just happened to find their way into his pocket. Stuff you’d never really miss but little things that made him think of you. Hair clips that he actually used sometimes. A few chapsticks and one of your eyeliner pencils, a guitar pick you’d use when messing with his acoustic and a minifig that he knew you were looking for but it wasn’t important to this campaign so it didn’t matter right now. If a t-shirt of yours found its way in there it was none of his business.

Under the assorted stolen tchotchkes was a single Polaroid he kept tucked deep in the drawer under the little cigar box he’d handed over to you earlier.

That lived face down in the drawer lest you almost accidentally ever see it again. He’s not a pervert (Don’t lie to yourself Munson) but this was an accidental photo taken at an opportune time. Halloween the year before and you had shown up to his trailer in an Elvira getup that had Eddie clutching the counter to stay upright. Complete with black wig and tits out to the universe he was sure he’d never seen so much of you on display. Standing in the doorway you’d had to call his name a few times before he invited you in, Eddie stuck in a staring contest with your chest. You’d done a little half turn for him once inside where he all but vomited compliments at you over your painfully accurate costume. If he followed you around like a dog all night, it was only to make sure he was somehow marking you as untouchable to everyone else.

This was just one of the rich kids parties so Eddie was there to sell and you had tagged along for an excuse to dress up. Normally Eddie would plant himself in his van for an hour or two and then head home but you seemed to be enjoying the party, even though you barely left his side. He never actually partied with this crowd of rich assholes but the combination of you, beer, and everyone being moderately decent to him all night lent to him letting his guard down. By the time midnight had rolled around the two of you were a drunk giggling mess, looking everywhere for the wig you had eventually torn off in the heat of the house.

The morning had snuck up on you though, both of you jolted awake by an errant ray of light seeping through the blinds in the strange living room. You found your shoes by the front door and you two snuck out to Eddie’s van and headed home.

It wasn’t until he was sat outside his own trailer, smoking before heading in, that he found the Polaroid in the breast pocket of his jacket. Eddie had found a camera at some point, he can vaguely remember that. And he had taken this crooked photo of you, legs stretched out and propped up in front of you with the slit of your dress hiked up around your hip. Your head thrown back against the couch while a cigarette hung out of the corner of your mouth. The long line of your neck mapping a trail down to the deep cut neckline and just cleavage for days. Eddie stares and stares for so long before he notices in the bottom corner of the photo, your hand resting on his thigh, painted black nails digging into the dark denim.

It takes his forgotten cigarette burning down to the filter and burning his finger to snap him out of his lust daze.

That photo had lived beside his bed for a good while, serving as a bookmark in many things. (Which is how you’d almost found it one afternoon in his copy of Salem’s Lot.)

He’d stare at it before bed, imagining whatever scenario he could that involved you crawling over that couch and devouring him. Your lips painted dark red, leaving marks all over his neck and you hair, curled and soft from being pinned up all night dragging over his shoulder. He’d never been with a girl that had really taken her time with him but he imagined you would. He knew how soft your hands were, could imagine what they’d feel like dragging down his ribs over his stomach, tugging at his belt. You’d push his shirt up while pulling his jeans down and look up at him with that glint in your eye, the one you’d get before you really threw yourself fully into something.

Sometimes this would be the softest imagined scenario all quiet moans and gentle kisses, you handling him so carefully. Featherlight touches down his thighs, your hands soft around him while you whispered little praises up at him from between his knees. Those were nights where he was feeling especially lovesick (like when you were out on a fabled date). Getting deep into his feelings in the dark, sometimes not even actually jerking off, just thinking of you while he lay in his bed trying to sleep.

The other times though, those times he’d grab you up in front of everyone at that party and find a dark corner of that rich kids kitchen. He’d walk you backwards, up against a wall and cage you in with his body, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other ghosting down your side to grab at your hip. Without shoes on your only a few inches shorter than him, but you’d still have to look up at him from under your lashes. Your hands would wrap up the sides of his face and wind in his hair and you’d pull him down to you, lips soft and warm. He’d hook a finger in the neckline of your dress to try and get your tits out and he just knew they’d fit so perfect in his hands. You’d mewl at him and make all the little noises he could imagine you might make when he runs his fingers over the lace of your bra. He’d smirk at you while you pulled at his neck, trying to get him closer, pulling your body flush up against his. Slot your leg between his and grind up on him to feel the hard length of him against your thigh.

It didn’t take much for him to picture you bent over a bathroom vanity, hands braced on the sink in front of you and crying for him. His hand fisted in the velvet of your dress and pushing it up to your waist so he could watch himself bury his cock in you while you whined and moaned for him to not stop, never stop, keep going your gonna make me cum-

The shuffling of paper brings him back down into his room. Remembers that you are also in his room and he has to keep his fucking imagination in check because you can clearly see the raging hard on he has from your place on the floor. Only if you looked over that is, just a turn of your head and you could see him straining against his jeans-

He mentally slaps himself back in place and takes a deep breath to try to focus on something literally anything that isn’t you and your tits and your thighs and your breathing…

From your position on the floor you can see Eddie lying face up on his bed, eyes closed, fingers tapping on his chest along with the drum beat. The notes you’ve been looking at are held at such an angle that you’re actually just peering at him like a little creep over the top. Watching his fingers tap, watching his chest rise and fall, watching his face scrunch up when he hears the bass really kick in. It’s lulling you into a stasis of sorts; you’ve been good and toasty for a bit now, the two of you no longer essentially hotboxing his room. The floor was supposed to be grounding you so you’d stop imagining things like climbing up on the bed with him. Would he even open his eyes or would he just smile?

Assume you were trying to get comfortable.

You could surprise him. Tangle your hand up in his hair and pull his head back to hold him in place while you attacked his neck, leaving little red marks up and down the column of his throat. Maybe he’d laugh, all breath and a little gasping, the vibrations making you smile against him. You could move your way up to his mouth and he’d taste just like you’d imagined a hundred times before. Tobacco and weed and a little salty from the fries he’d been eating earlier.

This is not the first, nor will it be the last time, that you sit and wonder what secrets that mouth beholds.

You are slowly spinning out on the floor of his room, your mind going…well, more like an inch a minute rather than a mile. Eddie’s notes long forgotten next to you in the carpet, you’re just about to drift off into your daydream about his fingers tap tap tapping down your sternum when he clears his throat and turns his head to look at you, says something you don’t catch.

“What?”

“I said ‘can I ask you something?’” He repeats himself and rolls over to lean on an elbow. His eyes are fixed on you, a notch between his brows making him look worried.

“What’s up?”

“Can I rain check next Friday?” He asks you almost hesitantly. It takes a few seconds for you to catch up before you frown a little yourself.

“And postpone the Friday night french fry extravaganza? What, you got a hot date or something?” You think you’re being slick but a blush starts to creep up his neck.

“No way! Did Gwen change her mind?!” You sit up from the floor to crawl over to the edge of the bed where you prop your chin to grin up at him. Your daydream is left with the notes while you rush into his space, face close to his own. Weed is still hugging your faculties pretty warmly so you don’t get a chance to stop your eyes drifting down his face to his lips.

He absolutely does not miss that look, but he’s also dipped pretty deep in this high so he lets it go because this is new. He’s never seen you look at him like that before; bites his bottom lip because he’s not entirely sure what’s happening in this moment.

No harm in letting you stare.

No harm in him watching you worry at your own lip.

Please let me bite that for you.

Your eyes finally snap back up to his with a questioning look in them.

Yes yes yes do it first please I’m too much of a coward.

Time is molasses the way the guitar in the background is molasses and you’re just staring at each other when you huff lightly.

“So…Gwen?”

Yeah, Gwen. Who’s Gwen?

“Uh yeah kind of? Nothing like crazy or whatever.” He breaks eye contact with you to stare at his blanket and pick at it. He’s not even sure why he’s still set on hanging out with her honestly, not with this huge fuckin’ crush he’s got burning for you. That first time he’d asked Gwen it had been with some actual feeling behind it. It’d only taken her a week to come back after turning him down though, a quiet question on her lips. Cornering him in the parking lot after school she’d made it a point to get him alone by his van where they were out of eyesight of everyone else. That should have been his first clue that this wouldn’t be a real date, but he’d been too caught off guard by the god damn cheer outfit.

“Does that offer still stand?” She’s sweet and a little naive maybe and he’s kind of weak for that so of course it does. Anything to get you off of his mind.

“For what?”

“Going out for a bite.”

“I mean sure, if you’re free.”

“Of course silly. Next Friday though.” She giggles and tucks a note with her number into his vest pocket.

He tells you all this, not looking up from his blanket the whole time. He admits that he knows she probably isn’t really interested in going out with him but she seems fun and nice and like who cares right?

“Yeah, she gets to test out what kind of freak I am and I probably get laid so…” he trails off. You’re still all up in his space so you can see his eyes darting around his blanket, looking for a distraction. This isn’t the first of these kinds of conversations between the two of you and you’ve seen that hurt in his eyes before. It’s not like Eddie is laying waste to all the girls of Hawkins High. He’s got maybe a solid handful of conquest under his belt, but they’ve all mostly treated him like a big secret. Something they got to do on a weekend or three and then moved on to something better. Something brighter. Something more well rounded and presentable.

“It’s not like she’s gonna take me home to meet mom.” His laugh is small and hollow when he rolls back over to stare at his ceiling. You pull yourself away from the edge of the bed, the cozy little spell broken.

“Listen man, you don’t have to go out with her. Just cancel it. What’s the worst that’ll happen? She doesn’t talk to you anymore?” You’re trying to break the sad tension with a joke and a gentle punch to his shoulder. He doesn’t budge, just sighs real big and continues to stare up at nothing.

You’re not super worried about this. Either he doesn’t hang out with her and you two get to have your normal Friday, or he does and you wait it out like you have with the others.

See, Gwen is an easy obstacle. She’s one of the nice cheerleaders, and she’s a year below you guys but she has no idea what she’s dipping her toe into. Eddie is a special brand of person and with his ability to talk an ear off, he’s sure to scare her off quickly. They’ll go out on their date and probably fool around a few times and then she’s going to comment on Hellfire. Or his band. Or his music. And then Eddie is going to get bored. He’ll remember what it’s like to talk about his interest unhindered with his little group of misfits and he’ll come back, acting like nothing ever happened.

So you have nothing to worry about.

Gwen will be easy.

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@edsforehead, @fracturedarkness, @munsonsguitarpick

Thank you again you guys!

[floralembarrassment]

i love your writing sm! could i please request something with james and regulus being attached to each other? like james and regulus need to be touching somewhere at all times. thanks in advance if you do decide to write it!

Hello! Interesting request... I'm not sure this is exactly what you asked for but it is what you inspired! with love

Exploring (1/1) (jegulus)

"James!" Regulus shouted. It was supposed to be a warning but really it was all fear.

James had run right to the edge of the barrier to look over the ocean, not slowing until he hit it. Regulus had visions of him tumbling right over the edge.

James laughed as he held his arms wide and let the wind whip at his hair. "Woohoo!!!" He held into it, a smile plastered on his face shiny clear in his eyes.

"Reg come on! You have to see this!" James turned his head and hollered back.

Regulus was standing a few feet away still, too afraid to get near the edge. Partly because in another he might not want to stay on this side of the barrier, even though he has chosen in this one to stay. The other part that kept him away was the water. He could hear the waves crashing at the rocks, he could already feel the wind pushing him one way and then the next.

But he did come all this way.

And here he was, with James' hand outstretched to him. An invitation. A promise of safety. A place to stay grounded.

He took a deep breath with the wind and took a few steps forward, grabbing onto James.

And then he look up and looked out over the beautiful view. He could see why James had been smiling so brightly. It was incredible. And suddenly he was just holding James' hand, then just their pinkies were linked together, as they both marvelled over the the waters and Regulus felt so safe enough to explore so long as he was near enough to feel James' warm touch.

They spent hours walking up and down the edge, minding their steps but loving the view. James was extra happy because not only did he get to see this magnificent piece of the earth, he got to see his favourite view, Regulus enjoying him.

[isolophilian]

where are the gif sets of Mrs. Dodds' transformation. i need them

[drakebellappreciation]

The Drew Carey Show 3x10