#Forest Fair Mall

[museumoftheamericanmall]

Exhilarama

After acquiring Dave & Buster's, Time-Out, and Space Port arcades, Edison Brothers Stores (known for 5-7-9) established the Edison Brothers Mall Entertainment division to expand into the arcade market. Inspired by the 33,000 sq. ft. Time-Out on the Court arcade in Cincinnati's Forest Fair Mall, Exhilarama emerged as a large family entertainment center. It featured a mix of classic and new arcade cabinets, midway games, indoor amusement park rides, Virtuality VR games, redemption counters, and concessions, making it a popular destination for birthday parties.

Originally tested at Crestwood Plaza in St. Louis, the first full-sized Exhilarama opened on October 10, 1992, in the Echelon Mall of Voorhees, New Jersey. Over time, five total locations were launched in Houston, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Voorhees, NJ, and Cary, NC. However, Edison Brothers Mall Entertainment eventually filed for bankruptcy, leading to the sale of many stores, including several Exhilarama locations to Namco Cybertainment, Inc. Other locations were rebranded under different names, such as Millennium and Nickels and Dimes' Tilt franchise before their closures through the mid-2000s

Michael D Current, “A History of Edison Brothers Mall Entertainment (Atari Adventure Operator),” A History of Edison Brothers Mall Entertainment, March 28, 2022, https://mcurrent.name/atarihistory/edison_brothers_mall_entertainment.html.

[someexistite]

Forest Fair Mall enterance

[niffysboxers]

i’m hyperfixated on dead malls again

infodump in the tags about dead/dying malls near you!!

[willturnergender]

Watching a video about forest fair village mall (aka Cincinnati Mills) and it truly is an amazing example of the period of design directly following y2k. It was last refurbished in 2004 and it REALLY looks like it, it’s so colorful and unique. I wonder if we’ll have a similar period of design in the next few years, when everyone gets tired of minimalism. I kind of doubt it, though, since our stage of capitalism demands versatility, which this kind of design doesn’t really allow for. It makes me so sad to think about how perfectly good stores were stripped of all their unique features about 10 years ago to make way for bland, “sleek” design. We all know that’s just code for “when we go out of business, the next business won’t have to update the space before moving in”. It’s so sad how corporate greed and distrust of the general public turns beautiful spaces into lifeless nothingness.

I’ll link the video, but here’s a few details I liked:

-there was a media play store!! When it went out of business I’m 2006, the mall really went downhill

-the banners with line drawings of women (who really look like the mid-2000s online version of Barbie) are pixelated and obviously drawn on a small screen and blown up

-when the mills corporation took over the mall in 2004, they banned groups of more than 3… idk what they were thinking there. Obviously you need more customers when your mall has been bankrupt since the year after it opened (1988). But sure… cut down on those annoying teens (the only ppl buying shit)

Anyway, that’s a quick peek into my fascination with this mall and dead malls in general.

Here’s a link to the video: https://youtu.be/W-lYxKhErMo?si=wc0OO0dLMR1ZMpfi

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad

Quite surprised there’s not a lot of these AUs considering how much Steve apparently sleeps around but anywho.

Teen Dad Steve who finds out one of the girls he’d slept with pre-Nancy is pregnant and he damn well intends on helping out however he can.

Turns out; helping means taking his son (his SON) and having full custody because the mom, no matter how much she wants to be involved, can’t take care of him.

Steve’s alright for the first 6 months of little Louie Harrington’s life.

But then his parents come home and shit hits the fan.

Which— fair enough. He was only 17 and already had a whole ass son, they were gonna freak out.

But kicking him AND aforementioned son out? With no where to go? No money? Barely a job?

That’s just fucked up.

But Steve makes do, and lives out of his car for no more than a month before finally landing his hands on a cheap trailer in Forest Hills.

He and Louie move in and sure, it’s rough. But he’s got a nice paying job at the Diner and yeah maybe he has to skip some classes to get extra money but it’s fine. It pays his bills and rent and that’s all that really matters.

It’s fine.

And then the second wave of Upside Down fuckery hits, and Steve’s suddenly in the hospital with a grade 4 concussion (whatever that means) and his top priority is to make sure someone is with Louie.

Enter Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom.

She takes care of Louie for as long as Steve is in the hospital and then some when Steve can’t be left unsupervised in case his head worsens.

And that’s how the Party is introduced to little Louie (as they all call him).

Steve’s stunned to find out that Mike and Lucas are so good with little kids, but the two of them love stopping by the Henderson’s (and later on the trailer) to see little Louie and offer to babysit for him whenever.

The other kids take a little bit of time to warm up to Louie (and the fact that Steve’s actually a parent) but when they do Steve never ceases to have at least one of them over.

And with all the racket brings in the attention of nosy neighbors.

Steve is well accustomed to nosy neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln next door to his parents were always looking to snitch on him for something or other.

But Miss Bottomette and her grandchildren Noah and Casey were sweethearts. Steve didn’t mind having them over for dinner or going over there. Miss Bottomette was the one to teach him how to actually put his cooking skills to work.

Linda and Tom, a newly married couple down the road, were quite eccentric but that’s what made them charming. Steve found their dog, Dasher, quite the sweetheart.

And even Mr. Knowles, the grouchy old man next door to Miss Bottomette, seemed to take a liking to Steve and Louie.

It wasn’t long before the story behind the new boy in 2718 New Bird Ave was revealed: Teen Dad Kicked Out.

Then the whole town knew. And while most people were nice about it, even supportive of how he had taken a step into his child’s life, there were always those people who sneered.

Steve ignored them, loving the life he was working on making for himself and Louie in the trailer park.

The only neighbors he never seemed to meet, despite the looming presence, were the Munsons, right across the street.

Steve knew about the Munsons. Well— he knew about Eddie Munson; drug dealer who was on his second run of senior year. Steve actually shared a few classes with him.

He’d yet to meet the mysterious Wayne Munson, but that was to be expected with work schedules.

And then Steve was graduating, and his parents didn’t show up.

But that was totally fine. Cause the kids, Claudia, Joyce— even Hopper with El— were there. They held up little baby Louie while Steve walked the stage.

He’d heard rumors of Eddie Munson having to retake senior year for a third time— but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Because sure, he missed more than his fair share of classes and scraped by with a C+ average.

But he did it.

And then summer hit, Dustin left for camp, and the mall opened up.

Steve picked up a job at Scoops Ahoy, cutting back on his hours at the Diner but still staying there because the money was needed and the tips were lovely.

And he meets Robin Buckley, and actually talks to Eddie Munson every once in a while when he stops in with his band, and lets the kids sneak into the movies because he’ll be damned if he robs them of a normal summer.

And then Dustin comes back and their reunion is short-lived because Russians are hellbent on torching non-existent information out of Steve and he’s busy getting his third concussion and then there’s a fucking flesh monster and Billy and Hopper for protecting them and—

It’s not a good night.

But then he’s rushed to the hospital and he tries to call Miss Bottomette only for the call to refuse to go through and shitfuckgoddammit.

Because what about Louie?

Miss Bottomette said she’d be alright watching Louie until Steve got home, but Steve wasn’t able to go home until someone was able to make time to take him home.

Usually, he’d lean on Hopper for this stuff, since his parents were out of the question. But—

But Hoppers dead.

So he’s stuck at the hospital for another day or two until finally, Claudia comes to pick him up.

He’s with Dustin in the backseat of the car, anxiously bouncing his leg and biting at his fingers and nails until Dustin gives in and just holds his hand. Robin’s there to, having been able to leave after the first night but coming with Claudia to pick him up. Steve’s relieved to have them both close by, even if his hands reach for Erica subconsciously.

His trailer’s empty when he gets home, and Miss Bottomette isn’t answering the door.

Steve’s on the brink of a full blown breakdown before Mr. Knowles— bless his heart— points them across the street.

The Munsons apparently have his son and have for a bit now since Miss Bottomette had a minor seizure and couldn’t be left alone with Louie. Mr. Knowles assured Steve that she and the kids were fine and staying with him for the moment.

Steve wasted no time afterwards sprinting to the Munsons and knocking on the door. Dustin and Robin are close behind him, Claudia waiting patiently in the driveway.

The door is answered by a gruff looking old man that’s taller than Dustin but slightly shorter than both Robin and Steve.

“You Harrington?”

Steve nods so fast he faintly wonders if that’s how bobble heads feels.

They’re let in in no time and the old man— the infamous Wayne Munson— calls out of Eddie.

Eddie Munson emerges a moment later with little Louie in his arms, bouncing softly on his feet to keep the baby calm.

Steve is in front of him in a second, scooping Louie gently out of his arms and into his own.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dustin’s rubbing his arms and Robin his back. Claudia is talking to Wayne, explaining what had happened (or the cover story version at least) and Eddie is hanging back a few feet from the three of them.

Robin takes little Louie in her arms and shoos Steve to the couch to calm down.

“Let him meet his auntie, Steve. You take a minute to breathe now, yeah?”

Steve was led to the couch with a soft hand on his shoulder from Eddie Munson, and they sat side by side while Steve worked on easing his breathing and to stop fucking crying.

Eddie’s shushing him and after a moment (and a clearly pointed cleared throat from Robin) Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shaking figure.

They leave the Munsons’ trailer is promises of new babysitters and a new friendship.

And then the fuckery that’s 1986 happens.

.

First Part:

[raoulite]

forest fair mall food court, OH

[munsons-maiden]

𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Here's a little oneshot for you, lovelies! I hope you enjoy 🖤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader (no physical descriptions, though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Based on this request: could i request maybe eddie brings reader to a deal but wants her to stay in the van so she’s safe but the people he’s dealing to see her because she walked out to tell eddie something and it doesn’t go so well. and after the situation eddie and her argue but eddie’s upset and just what’s to protect her 🥺 but ofc it ends well🫡

- I hope you like it, dear!🖤

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | fights turning into love confessions, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst with a happy ending, attempted (sexual) assault

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

You can barely make out your surroundings, the little dirt path leading you deeper into the woods, in the darkness between the trees as you slowly draw closer – the moon and stars have vanished behind the clouds as if they’ve gone into hiding, and the taste of a summer storm already laces the stuffy air.

In all these years of being Eddie Munson’s friend, there’s been one simple rule when it comes to him meeting his customers for a drug deal:

Stay in the car.

The customers are harmless. It’s the cops I’m worried about, he tells you, expression stern, whenever you crack a joke about him being scared you could scare away a customer.

It’s tiny little Hawkins, and the deals gone wrong that sometimes make it into the TV news or newspaper headlines are over coke and heroin and all the hard stuff Eddie would never sell, not over something as harmless as weed or the occasional pill of ketamine.

Tonight has been no different.

It was supposed to be a quick deal on your way to the Carnival two towns over at Sycamore where you’re supposed to meet the rest of Hellfire.

Some new customer sent by Reefer Rick.

But the longer you’ve been sitting in Eddie’s van, in the dark, in the middle of the lonely road that cuts through the woods surrounding Hawkins…this nagging feeling started to grow in your chest. First into worry, then into outright panic when you’d watched the clock on the old van’s display tick, one minute turning into five, and five into ten.

What if something went wrong?

What if something horrible happened to him?

What if Eddie needs your help?

You wanted to tell him, tonight at the fair, beneath the see of glittering lights of the Ferris wheel. That you’re in love with him. That you’ve been, for a very long time. That even if he doesn’t feel the same, you need to say it out loud, how you first fell for all the tiny little pieces that make him Eddie and then wholly and utterly and completely.

When ten minutes bled into fifteen, and your mind had come up with the most horrid scenarios fueled by news coverage of drug deals breaking into violence, conjuring up gruesome images of Eddie bleeding out between the ferns and brambles covering the forest floor, blood soaking the moss, you couldn’t stay cooped up in the confines of his old van a second longer.

You broke Eddie’s one rule. You left the car and went looking for him.

As you’re now traipsing along the small dirt path cutting through the brambles and ferns, the fabric of your summer dress you’ve spent an entire weekend picking out at the mall just so Eddie might finally start seeing you as something else as his friend, sticking to your sweaty skin and thorns scratching at your legs, you realize that even if Eddie needs your help…how the fuck would you even be able to help him?

It’s not like you’re carrying a gun in the little bag you’re clutching at your side.

The sound of voices startles you out of your thoughts, and in the dark, your eyes lock on the two silhouettes in the little clearing ahead of you.

You recognize Eddie first – you’d recognize him everywhere.

He’s standing with his back to you. Even with the remaining distance between the two of you, the darkness of the woods, you can tell that his shoulders are tense.

His whole body is holding a kind of tension you’ve only ever seen on him once before, a few years ago, when his deadbeat father had shown up at the trailer park drunken and shouting curses into the wind before Eddie had dragged you into the safety Wayne’s trailer.

A twig snaps beneath your sneakers, and both Eddie and his customer whirl around to you.

And you realize you’ve made a huge mistake.

The guy in front of Eddie is no nervous classmate, not one of the chill stoner guys always hanging around beneath the bleachers. No friendly family dad or stressed housewife looking for a little relaxation or piece of rebellion.

The guy’s buzzcut does nothing to soften the harsh angles of his face, the lines around his mouth formed by the frown that seems to be engraved there.

There’s something menacing in his eyes as they lock on you.

Something evil and predatory.

The guy licks his lips, and his mouth curls into a lewd smirk, a twisted mirror to the abysmal panic in Eddie’s wide eyes as he stares at you.

You can read them like the pages of an open book.

What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car!

The guy slaps a meaty hand on Eddie’s shoulder, hard enough to make Eddie sway a little on his feet with the impact. And contrary to what the jocks at Hawkins High believe, Eddie is strong.

“And at first I thought you’d brought the cops,” the guy laughs – but it’s not a friendly laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes, either. He’s got muscles. A lot of them, flexing beneath his skin as he lets his arm sink from Eddie’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t do that to your old friend though, would you? Instead, you brought me a present.”

There’s an eagle tattooed across the guy’s throat, wings spread wide. It’s fitting, this bird of prey marking him. You feel like a tiny little robin beneath his gaze.

Eddie’s eyes haven’t left you for a single second.

“I told you to stay in the car.” His voice is strained with barely suppressed fury and, above all else…panic.

“Nah, we’re good,” the guy grins, letting his eyes roam over you.

Making you wish you were wearing something other than a short little summer dress.

“Come on closer, little birdie,” he drawls, “Don’t be shy now.”

“Go back to the car,” Eddie says, louder, the vehemence of his tone flashing in his panicked eyes. His voice is trembling. “Now.”

“What, you don’t want to introduce us?” The man drawls. The threat in his own voice is as clear and tangible as the panic in Eddie’s umber eyes as he shakes his head, the movement subtle, barely visible. Go, he mouths. Now.

At the guy, he adds, “I thought we were here to talk about business.”

“You want me to focus on business when you brought your pretty girl with you, boy?” The guy makes a beckoning motion at you, still frozen like a deer in the headlights, rooted to your spot only feet away from him and Eddie. “Come closer, doll. Don’t be shy now.”

“No,” Eddie interjects, fervor smoothing his voice as it cuts through the rain-laced air of the clearing, despair flashing out beneath the panic, “She’s not part of this.”

You’re scared out of your mind.

But hell will freeze over before you leave Eddie alone with this man.

So you do what the guy told you.

You step closer, coming to stand beside Eddie.

“Tell you what, boy,” the man purrs, tearing his eyes off of you to meet Eddie’s, a flash of yellowed teeth in diffuse moonlight, as his smirk grows into a grin so devilish you wouldn’t have been surprised had they been pointed, “I’m gonna give you a few more bucks and you’re gonna give me a few minutes with your lovely lady here.”

Beside you, Eddie inches closer to you, shifting to place himself between the guy and you.

Trying to shield you with his own body, you realize.

Eddie Munson, who always swore he was no hero outside of D&D, is becoming your hero right now.

“I’ll give you everything I got with me right now, and you leave,” Eddie counters, voice hard.

A desperate attempt to get you out of this situation.

Almost completely hidden from the guy’s field of vision with Eddie having placed himself in front of you, his muscles taut and ready to fight, your hands slowly dive into the bag slung over your shoulder, fingertips carefully feeling for something, anything, to use to protect him, to protect both of you –

“Or,” the man drawls, taking a step closer, with the ease of a predator rounding in on a wounded fawn, “I’ll just take whatever you got and have some fun with your pretty lady.”

It happens too fast to see it coming.

There’s a snapping sound as the flick-knife the guy must have been holding, concealed in his meaty fist and the dark of night, is flipped open, the jagged blade flashing in the obscure beams of moonlight filtering through the clouds and the foliage of trees above your heads – and Eddie pushes you farther behind him.

Placing yourself between you and the knife’s path as he snaps, voice vibrating, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

The man lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “And what are you gonna do, hm?”

There. Your fingers wrap around something smooth and cool nestled at the bottom of your bag.

And not a second too soon.

Before the guy can let the knife in his fist soar down to hurt Eddie, you duck around your friend, your own hand flying up as you press your index finger down in the spray bottle in your sweaty grip, sending a blast of hair spray straight into the guy’s face.

He screams, hands flying up to cover his eyes as he stumbles backwards, and the flick-knife lands between the ferns.

Eddie doesn’t waste a single second.

His hand finding yours, he pulls you away from the screaming, staggering man and pushes you towards the path that leads back to the road and the van and safety. Together, you break into a run.

You don’t notice the thorns of the brambles cutting your legs, the burn of your lungs, your muscles, because it all fades to white noise beneath the roaring of blood in your ears, the wild pounding of your heart, Eddie’s own racing steps behind you.

Only at the edges of your panic-addled mind you realize that he’s staying behind you to make sure you’ll get away, first.

The van comes up in the distance, a flash of white among the leaves and branches, and you feel the first tender burst of relief wash through you at the sight.

Eddie rips the driver’s side door open, all but shoving you inside and onto the passenger seat as he climbs in after you, and the old engine comes to life with a sputtering roar. The van jerks forwards with screeching tires as your hands shoot out to grab the door’s handle to avoid toppling over into the footwell.

As the vehicle bolts down the country road leading out of the woods, silence descends upon you, heavy and loud even beneath the roar of the engine, your own panting breaths slowly calming.

You cast Eddie a careful sideways glance.

He doesn’t look at you.

His eyes are glued to the road the way his foot is glued to the gas pedal, jaw set, and his knuckles clamped around the wheel are white.

You’ve never seen him so angry in all the time you’ve known him.

You’ve never felt so angry in all the time you’ve known him, either.

When the van emerges from the woods and lights of the carnival come into sight, the twinkling form of the Ferris wheel rising over the rolling fields of wheat covering the landscape, Eddie steers the vehicle to the side of the road.

By the time he cuts off the engine and pushes the driver’s door open with a force that makes you fear it’ll just rip off its hinges, he still hasn’t uttered a single word.

You reach for the latch in your own door, but before you can open it, Eddie has already rounded the hood, and the door is ripped open to reveal his face, unreadable and void of all the usual humor and goofiness.

“Are you okay?” It sounds strangely hollow, the way he says it.

“Eddie –“

“Are you okay?” It’s nearly a shout, but not an angry one. Only scared. So fucking scared that it makes his voice shake as much as his hands coming up to rake through his curls while his dark eyes roam over you in the diffuse moonlight over the field, the dim glow of the lights inside the van, scanning the tiny cuts decorating your face and arms and legs where the brambles and branches of the woods have left their marks during your flight.

You give a tentative nod.

The breath he seems to have been holding leaves in a sharp exhale as he rakes his hand through his dark curls once more, sending stray leaves falling out as he starts pacing at the edge of the road.

You climb out of the car.

And the storm that’s been building the past few minutes breaks lose – not in the sky, but down beneath it.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

Eddie has never shouted at you.

You’ve never shouted at him, either, but it breaks out of you like a flood-wave.

“ME?! THIS IS MY FAULT?!”

“YES! FUCKING HELL YES IT IS! SHIT. IF YOU HAD, JUST FOR ONCE, LISTENED –“

“ME?! I’M NOT THE ONE MEETING FUCKING KILLERS IN THE WOODS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

“THAT’S WHY I TOLD YOU TO STAY –“

“IF I’D STAYED IN THE CAR, YOU’D BE DEAD ON THE FOREST FLOOR NOW!” The thought of it, of Eddie, bleeding out between the ferns, scared and alone and in pain, makes the tears spill over and your voice shatter as you choke out the rest of the sentence in a miserable little whisper. “You’d be fucking dead!” Saying it aloud brings back the fury at him for being so fucking careless. “HE WAS ABOUT TO HURT YOU!”

“AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN WAY BETTER THAN IF HE’D HURT YOU! I CAN’T LOSE YOU, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

Eddie’s words shut you up.

They ring through the night, mingle with the soft summer breeze that ruffles the stalks of wheat in the nearby field, the rustling too loud in the shellshocked silence.

The tears which have been glittering in his dark eyes have started running down his pale cheeks.

For a few wild heartbeats, you just stare at each other in the moonlight piercing through the passing clouds, the glow of colorful lights of the fair at the edge of the field sending flares into the night, the stuffy summer night’s air pressing down on the two of you.

In a few quick strides, both of you cross the small distance between the two of you, meeting in the middle.

And then, you’re kissing.

And the world stills, heartbeat accelerating as panic and adrenaline bleed into something entirely else, something that’s been trapped within you for so long it takes a second to realize this, right now, is truly happening.

Eddie’s lips, soft and hot against yours, his palms cradling your face, the metal of his rings warm with the heat of his body as they press gently against your skin.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

He kisses you like he really, truly means it.

Because I fucking love you.

It’s better, so much better than even your wildest daydreams.

You know you’ll never want to kiss anyone else after this.

You know you don’t ever want this kiss to end.

It does, eventually. Eddie pulls away, wide-eyed and panting, lips slightly apart in a gape and curls in a tangled mess – from his own hands raking through it or yours right now, you can’t tell. Even in the half-dark of the night, you can see the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I – I’m sorry,” he breathes, the kiss-dazed gleam in his eyes making room for an appalled expression. “God, fuck, I’m – I didn’t think. I didn’t even ask –“

“I’ve been waiting for you to do this for a very long time,” you say quietly, giving him a soft smile.

For a moment, Eddie just stares at you, as if he’s contemplating whether his mind is playing tricks on him. “You, uh. You did?”

“Yeah,” you whisper into the few inches of between the two of you. “And now I’ll be waiting for you to do it again.”

He does. Not a single beat of hesitation.

This time, when Eddie’s lips meet yours, it’s softer, slower, yet just as intoxicating and feverish as that first kiss.

His hands snake up to cup your cheeks and angle your head as he slowly walks you backwards, until your back meets the side of the van, the metal still warm from the day and the sweltering night air, and butterflies flood your belly, your entire body, a colorful swarm of them making your skin tingle in all the places his body brushes against yours. His chest against yours, one of his knees between yours, his calloused fingertips gently trailing down the column of your throat.

Kissing Eddie Munson is as easy as breathing.

“I meant it,” he breathes into the kiss, before resting his forehead against yours, the curls of his bangs tickling you, “What I said. I’m so fucking sorry I dragged you into this mess. I’m so fucking sorry I put you in danger.” He swallows. “And I’m so fucking much in love with you.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling his smile. “I’ve been loving you for a very long time, Eddie.”

You place your hands over his, still holding your face.

“I was so fucking scared,” Eddie murmurs, voice trembling again with new tears. “Fuck. I was so stupid –“

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers squeezing his, “We’re safe. You saved me.”

“Shit, you saved me. What even was that? Pepper spray?”

You chuckle. “Farah Fawcett hair spray.”

Eddie blinks, before he gives a breathless little laugh, as if he’s not sure he’d rather laugh or cry. Probably both. “Pretty fucking metal.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you tonight,” you amend, and Eddie’s expression grows serious again.

“You always look pretty, sweetheart. I’ve been having a pretty hard time not ogling you every second we’re together.”

“You need to promise me you’ll never ever meet clients in the middle of the woods. Not at night. Not by day either. And –“

“I promise,” Eddie interrupts, voice sincere. “I’m gonna stick to the clients I know. No expanding the business.”

“Good,” you breathe, letting your hands fall away from his to lock them at the nape of his neck, fingertips playing with his dark curls.

“Your hair is really soft,” you breathe, lips not an inch from his, feeling stupid all of a sudden for saying it out loud, but Eddie replies with an adorable little giggle that makes your heart soar and race and squeeze with love all at the same time.

“Thanks. It’s…uh. Don’t laugh. It’s Farah Fawcett conditioner.”

Your own soft laugh fades into the night as Eddie’s lips find yours again, the summer storm brewing over your heads and the glittering lights of the carnival in the distance and the moment of terror in the woods blurring against the radiant joy of knowing the one you love loves you back just as much.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

Requests for angst/smangst remain open. If you want to check out my works in progress, here's the list🖤

[determunition]

that's right. retyrement scrybeswap

i've talked about these at length on discord but have yet to show the full extent of my brainrot to the world haha; special thanks to @randyvouz for helping me design some of these guys!

for those of you who don't Go Here these are some elderly humanizations of these inscryption scrybeswap designs i did! details on these guys below the cut bc as always i've come up with way too much lore for them lmao

magicks poe is a bill nye/ms frizzle type edutainment host, and tech magnificus is a retired radio host who's since started teaching digital art in his old age; they met when they were much younger, when mag had poe on as a guest on his radio show, and have been married for some time

beasts poe is a retired wilderness ranger! he lost his eye in a forest fire incident, and still goes on hikes sometimes in his off-road wheelchair; death magnificus is a retired graveyard groundskeeper who does ink-based fine arts in his spare time. they were vaguely aware of each other in their middle years, and now live together in a queerplatonic partnership where they foster cats in their spare time

death poe is a mall night guard who really should have retired by now, but does his job better than anyone else; like death p03 he's really a nice guy under his spooky face mask. beasts mag is a local artist and ren faire performer; merely a shopper at poe's mall, and if the two of them have anything together in their futures it remains to be seen

[strange-august]

Tag Yourself as Aesthetics I resonate with

Changelingcore: Broken insect wings, wildflower meadows, catching tadpoles, lingering mist after it rains, wet shoes from the damp grass, the feeling of moss under your hands, collection of strange trinkets and objects, taking your stuffed animals on adventures, doodling on your clothes, busy hands, wading knee deep into a lake, screaming into the air to ease frustration, organizing and reorganizing your treasures, bird calls, animal howls, digging in the mud, chewing on your lip until it bleeds, bruises and scrapes, the urge to live in the woods and never return to regular society, knotted hair, forest shrines, putting flower blossoms in your hair, flooded swampy areas, jumping from short cliffs

Suburban Gothic: Hot muggy air sticking to your skin, the buzz of florescent lights, flickering street lights, budget popsicles, late night drug store visits, muffled arguments, an old clock ticking, guady wallpaper, gossamer curtains, dusty cotton sheets, faded quilts, dog barkings, milkshakes in an empty diner, broken windows and graffiti, abandoned train tracks, 24/7 laundromats, rusty swingsets, shadowy silhouettes, semi-abandoned malls, sounds of far off traffic and train horns, driving around at night while soft music plays on the radio, tv static, junk yards and pick-n-pulls, holding hands with a stranger, urban legends, varsity jackets, broken glass on the road, crumbling buildings, local television channels

Cuddle Party: Excited giggles and hushed whispers, condensation on drinkware, running through an empty field hollering and whooping in the dead of night, sitting on the porch in rocking chairs, drunken "I love you"s, old cartoons, classic disney movies, five dollar pizza and breadsticks, singing out loud in the car, finding new places to explore, county fairs and arcade visits, eating fair food and screaming your lungs out on rides, trying to earn as many tickets at the arcade and still winning cheap prizes, being the last one to fall asleep, casually sleeping all together in the same bed, holding hands in crowds, if one of us isn't having a good time none of us are, wondering how long these days will last

Cryptid Academia: Listening to video essays while sketching cryptids, exploring abandoned buildings (legally and illegally), pocket knives, blackout curtains, newspaper clippings, viewing the night sky through a telescope, visiting natural history or science museums, old typewriters, info dumping conspiracy theories on friends, making plans to investigate that never come to fruition, tearing yet another hole into your clothes climbing over fences, shoddily patched up clothes, keychains and aluminum pins, novelty socks, analog watches, Buzzfeed Unsolved, cryptid podcasts, sprint training so you can outrun whatever is chasing you, rubiks cubes, sore fingers from mending, thrift shopping, essays only about cryptids

Desertwave: Billowing winds, sandstorms, wind chimes and suncatchers, succulents in handmade clay pots, aloe vera plants on the kitchen windowsill, the distant howl of a coyote, faded winnebagos, the soft hiss of patio misters, campsites and trailer parks, large rock formations covered in graffiti, picking up trash, the crackle of a bonfire, cacti and joshua trees in the backyard, never getting the sand completely out of your shoes, dusty clothes, laying in a hammock watching the stars, water balloon fights, hot springs, mexican ice cream bars, rocky desert mountains, plots of sand and plants that stretch on as far as the eye can see

[dogmime]

i just realized tumblr might be a good place to share some of my "photography" (aka taking iphone pics of things i find neat) here's some pictures from 2021 of forest fair village mall in cincinnati, ohio.

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 9: Double-O-Vision

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"So, you said it's a small town, right?"

Rob stared up at the clouds from his vantage point on the ground. Last night, he had woken up screaming after several consecutive night terrors. Sarah was enthusiastic about the chance that he was being haunted after she was awoken by the first scream, but the second and third were more frustrating to her than anything. Eventually, Rob had managed to lift his pillow-shaped rock and had taken it to the small waterfall not too far from camp so that he wouldn't be able to accidentally wake her up anymore. Sarah didn't have the heart to tell him that he was so loud he had done so a few more times anyways.

The repeated bouts of laying awake in the darkness had given both of them plenty of time to come up with their own game plans for the day.

"Right," replied Sarah, nodding.

"But you said there's a shopping mall here."

"To be fair, it's not a super huge one."

"Who builds a shopping mall in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere?"

"Look, the show didn't get into the history of local real estate development, okay?"

He let out a sigh and rolled over onto his side. Despite the sunlight, sleep seemed ready to claim him at any moment, but every time his eyelid started to fall, an image from one of the nightmares popped into his head, and suddenly he was wide awake and energetic again.

"I guess we'll have the rest of our lives to figure it out," he said.

"The rest of our lives? What's that supposed to mean?"

Rob's mind was racing, and not just because of the sleep deprivation. Did she not realize that-

"We're not going back to Elmore," he said.

She sat up and turned to him- he wasn't looking, but he could tell by the sound effects and ominous music cue. She laughed nervously.

"Sure we are!"

"Oh yeah? Well, tell me how you plan to get us back, then." He crossed his arms and curled his knees up to his chest.

"Via the Awesome Store."

"What, do you have his number?"

"No, but if he comes back-"

"If he comes back, there's no way he's gonna stumble on us by chance! Besides, why on earth would he even look for us?"

"I think there's at least one reason," Sarah said, and then promptly changed the subject. "Anyways, you have an electronics store to rob, Rob! Have you ever robbed anyone before? 'Cause, you know, your name, and all?"

"Rob's a common name."

"I know! But if this is your first time robbing someone-"

"It's not."

"Oh. All the better! As I was saying, you have an electronics store to- ahem- steal from. Thankfully, there's a whole TV display in the front window, so it shouldn't be an issue. No need to even go inside! Just, wham!" she mimed smashing a plane of glass with a crowbar- "Break in, get it, get out."

"You said I also need a generator. And something to put the DVD into."

"Oh yeah. Well, hopefully once you break in everybody inside will either run screaming or pass out and then you don't have to worry about dealing with them."

"What if they call the cops?"

"They probably won't because you're so freaky-looking, and if they do, you could take those guys with one hand behind your back. As long as you're immune to getting tased."

"...I'm not!"

"No?"

"What gave you the idea I was?"

"Hmm. That's a good question, actually. I guess I just figured you were some sort of cyborg."

"A cyborg? I don't even look anything like a-" he groaned- "Never mind. So you're saying the cops will tase me? Why can't you come help me do this? You're sort of throwing me to the wolves here!"

"They're not wolves, they're people. We're literally in the middle of the forest right now. I bet there are wolves everywhere! One could be behind you and you wouldn't even know it! Maybe even mutant wolves, or wolves that have their heads on backwards and speak in code, or- you get the idea. Any one of those could be behind you."

Rob scoffed dismissively but rolled onto his back nonetheless.

"If you get arrested," Sarah continued, "you can just dig your way out with a spoon."

"Where am I getting a spoon from?"

"Good point."

After a long and awkward stretch of silence, Rob said 'welp', slapped his knee, flinched at the pain, mentally beat himself up for flinching at his own slap, flinched at the pain from mentally beating himself up, and stormed out of the forest in a huff when he realized he had to take action to avoid an infinite loop. Sarah followed him to the edge of the trees to hand him his crowbar like a concerned mother whose son forgot his lunch box on the first day of school. He didn't thank her. Five minutes into town, he realized he never got an answer to the question of why Sarah was making him do this alone, but it was too late to go back. Not really- he had all day- but it was the principle of the thing. Had he dwelled on that thought for longer, maybe he would have realized it didn't make any sense, but he was too occupied with finding the shopping mall to do that. It couldn't be too hard; after all, this was a small town!

-

Sarah read through the back cover of her DVD yet again. It was significantly less fun than rewatching the show.

Just a few minutes south of Rob's campsite was another clearing where the mud was soft and a big stick was propped against a rock; Sarah had made this place her canvas. The apocalypse had allowed her to tap into her destructive instincts, which she had discovered were almost as potent as her creative ones and just as enjoyable to use, but that didn't mean she could go a day without at least doodling something or having an elaborate daydream. The thing about drawing in the dirt with a stick was that the final product never quite looked good enough.

She drew a little heart on the ground with her finger and put an S in it, for Sarah. Just as she was about to complete it with two more initials, she glanced over at the dozen or so other identical hearts she had drawn recently, and wondered for a moment if she was perhaps getting in a rut. What if the van never returned and she was stuck here and she never got to see their faces ever again and she forgot what they looked like? On one hand, that could totally be a setup for, like, a heartbreaking reunion plot. On the other, it could be the end, assuming this was a tragedy. Was it even possible to forget them? She remembered every detail... right now. But brains were fallible. Would love protect her, or would it be a moral about how love never truly protects anyone from the inevitable marching forth of time? She sighed. Sarah was used to sighing for theatrical purposes, but now there was nobody to fool except herself. 'I am just that committed', she thought, and that cheered her up a bit- so much so that she never even considered that the negative emotions behind the sigh could have been real.

Part of her felt guilty for wasting time. She hadn't come here for the trees and occasional monsters, she had come here for the people, and also demons. Mostly demons- actually, mostly demon, singular. But that didn't mean the idea of interacting with some of the others didn't excite her. She couldn't just barge into their lives, though! She wasn't human! That had never ever mattered before.

'At least it won't matter once I'm back in Elmore', she thought.

'We're not going back to Elmore', said Rob in her head.

"Oh, Rob," she said, rolling her eyes, smiling half-heartedly, and speaking out loud to someone who wasn't there. Nobody answered. There weren't even any monsters listening in? C'mon.

Sarah leaned back, closed her eyes, and counted sheep versions of her friends and classmates until the world fell away and she began to dream.

-

By what was either a normal consequence of life in a small town or some arcane miracle, Rob had arrived in front of the television display without seeing hide or hair of a single local human. That said, he had been looking down at his feet for most of the walk there, so maybe there had been some around.

Standing in front of the display case with the TVs made everything feel so real. Rob knew that it wasn't, of course, and yet some days that seemed like a distant, irrelevant fact. This was one of those days. He knew that bashing the glass in was his purpose at the moment, and yet it was so peaceful that doing so seemed a shame, even though reality was nothing more than a simulacrum created for the amusement of a media-hungry modern audience and none of it really mattered anyway because the heat death of the universe would someday render fiction entirely irrelevant. When that day came, would he die, or would he not even know that it happened? Sheesh...

He blinked and found that his head had slumped forward against the glass in the time that it took for him to think all of that. Boy, was he tired. He could lay down right here and- no!

He gave the glass a hard whack with the crowbar before he had the mental presence to stop himself. It bounced off with a clang that rang out like a tuning fork. Oh no- he'd need to do it again? He did it again, weaker this time, and the glass still didn't break. This was more difficult than anticipated. If someone saw this, they would laugh at him... no, wait, they'd probably call the cops. And then he'd get tased-

With a frustrated grunt, he swung harder and the glass splintered.

All it took was a light additional tap for the fruits of his mission to be fully exposed, and then he reached through the hole in the glass to grab one and three facts immediately set in, stymieing the evil, triumphant laugh in his throat before it could come out of his mouth:

1. The TVs were heavy,

2. He still needed to fetch a DVD player, a remote, and a generator,

3. There were people in the store-

4. And those people were looking at him!

As he took one frozen step back, he met the left eye of the silent, awed clerk behind the counter and thought, 'they're more scared of me than I am of them'. He had to believe that for this to work. He had to. With all the confidence he could muster, he shoved his anxiety deep down inside, stepped through the broken glass, maneuvered around the stack of TVs, left the display case, and put up finger guns at the clerk as if he was robbing a bank.

"This is a hold-up," he said, and it sounded cooler in his head. The clerk's hands went up. "Everybody on the floor!"

The two other customers in the store cowered behind a rack of phone chargers, one of them slumping down. The clerk promptly passed out. Either way, everybody was on the floor. Then, to Rob's horror, one of the customers- the one who hadn't slumped over- produced a cell phone from his pocket. Rob stepped towards him and aimed his 'guns' in the terrified man's face. The phone came on, and...

"Oh no, my battery's dead!" said the man as a red 'charge' symbol appeared on the screen.

Rob sighed in relief- and then both he and the man noticed the rack of phone chargers. Rob stepped forward, prepared to take the phone and crush it if need be, when the man's face fell once again.

"Wait, looks like they don't have anything that fits my old model."

Rob shook his head, feeling less like an intimidating bank robber and more like the world's luckiest petty thief.

"Uh, I suggest you pass out, man," Rob said, rubbing his own arm.

The guy obliged. Well, he tried to look like he was passed out, at least, but that was good enough.

It only took a few minutes to get a TV, an emergency generator (from the back), and a DVD player, load them onto a wheeled storage cart, and get out of Dodge with time to spare before the two genuinely-unconscious people woke up. That had been surprisingly easy! An unsettling feeling that he was being watched crept over him as he made his away from the electronics store, but it dissipated after just a few minutes of walking. Surely just another effect of the sleep deprivation. How many effects did sleep deprivation have, anyway?

-

Sarah took a sip of her milkshake. It didn't taste like anything, but that was fine since this was a dream. It was a dream, right? Okay, yeah, there was some sort of sky whale floating nearby and she was sitting on a giant toadstool in the middle of the mall. It was definitely a dream. But not a nightmare- not the sort of dream that would be thrust upon you as a punishment by a malevolent entity with an ulterior motive. This was the sort of dream she had most nights.

"He's not here," she mused, looking up into the eyes of her date, who looked at different moments like different boys she knew, most often two of them in particular.

"But I'm here, sweetie," he said, and tried to lean in for a kiss, but he turned to soapy water and spilled all over the floor before he could make contact with her. That was slightly weird, but not 'wake up screaming' weird. She got up and wandered through the dreamscape, feeling like a paper doll in a pool full of molasses as her legs refused to move any faster than slow motion.

"Hello?" she called. "You there? You know who you are."

No response. Sarah balled up her fists, puffed out her cheeks, and pinched herself hard on the arm, waking up in her art clearing with a disappointed sigh. It was then that she heard the sound of footsteps and the squeaking of wheels and decided that either this was Rob or some kind of half-wagon half-humanoid monster. Either way, she had to see for herself!

-

When the generator was running and the TV on, Sarah moved a rock in front of the eye of providence she had carved into the tree trunk. Rob found that strange. Whatever this DVD was, Sarah didn't want Bill to see it, which seemed rather counter-intuitive considering her entire goal here.

The two of them had dug a little ditch to sit in for ease of viewing. Sarah reached for the DVD enthusiastically, but her smile dropped off her face when she saw Rob, asleep, sprawled over in the ditch. She reached for his shoulder. He screamed so loud that she fell backwards.

"Another nightmare?" she asked.

"Yeah. This one had lots of stabbing." He let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Thanks for w-w-waking me up! I think I would have s-shh-screamed in my sleep and kept on going if you hadn't."

His voice had a new wavering quality to it, not quite a stutter but something close.

"Okay, you don't seem ready for a 17-hour binge session..."

He suddenly seemed awake. "17 hours? What the heck is on this DVD of yours?"

Sarah held up the box. Her usual cheery demeanor had mostly faded. Rob read aloud.

"Gravity Falls, the complete series," he said, and then did a double-take. "Gravity Falls the complete series? You have this? Where'd you get it?"

"The Awesome Store."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," said Rob, recalling the VHS tape he had once purchased from the forsaken red van. "But why didn't you tell me? Why would you want to keep this information to yourself? That's-! that's-!"

"Calm down! It's because- ergh. This is gonna sound super skeevy, but it's because I know that after you see what's on there, you're gonna say something like-"

-

"You're telling me you want to mess with that guy? On purpose? That you think of this as some g-game?"

Rob's blood boiled. He wiped his eye, which was wet, probably from the 17 hours of television (interspersed with the occasional bad dream). It didn't help that he had gotten emotional once or twice.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Before Sarah could respond, he had stumbled backwards and fallen unconscious once again.

[loupgaroualejardin]

Will be yapping about headspace here for fair warning to everyone who doesn't want to read this, it may be long.

Our headspace is very, large, with about seven layers (give or take) that are all about the size of Alaska (With one being the size of a mid-sized mall and another being about as big as Switzerland), with The Void surrounding all of them.

Our most well documented two are The Garden (The primary layer which most headmates reside in and can easily transport to) and The Blocks (The layer just above The Garden that is materialized aspect of Minecraft, where, really only minecraft sourced/related headmates can reach).

The Garden is the largest amongst the layers, with five different sections, and roughly eight areas in each section that are well known about. The sections are divided amongst the areas from start to finish, which would be:

The Garden - A open long grass field surrounded lightly by pine and coniferous trees. Most heavily populated due to existence of the Teleporting City in it.

The Mountains - A rocky mountain that splits The Garden from the rest of the layer, a bit hard to traverse.

The Garden Pt.2 - A area primarily packed full with forests of deciduous and oak trees, with a trail between a few locations. It thins out when getting to the border of the Moss Sea and near Lemongrass' farm.

The Moss Sea - A sea reminiscent of Cayos Cochinos in Honduras with a island in the middle (though, it's much too far out to see from land). At Lemongrass' farm, they have a pier and boat for crossing the sea.

The Sahara - Across the Moss Sea there is a desert. It's one of the least populated places in the whole system, with only four beings residing there.

Done yapping for today. Um, Ask questions if you want, we love talking about our headspace!

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Defense

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 15, Sam discovers Danny's new friendship, and Tucker does his best to deal with the fallout.

...

Tucker is not surprised that Sam is a big fan of the Phantom dummies.  He also isn’t surprised when Vlad sets them up without waiting for an answer, but he is a little surprised when Vlad pitches them to Sam as Tucker’s idea.  He doesn’t ask.  Something tells him it won’t go over well.

Smallest of all mercies, most of the time Tucker can ignore them.  Valerie’s suggestion that they needed to train in more dynamic environments was a fair one, and Tucker tends to find it better for everyone if he takes to that advice more than Vlad’s advice about… well, he spends a lot of time in the forest now, is the point.  Sam does too, but while Tucker spends a lot of time in the forest, Sam is currently spending all of her free time in the forest practicing.

…It’s worrying him.  Not even for the obvious reason, though that too.  This time it has more to do with the fact that Tucker is almost positive she isn’t getting enough sleep.  Or food.  Or… breathing.

And today, Tucker is positive, is not going to help.

Last night, Phantom had gotten in a fight with Technus at the Amity Park Mall.  It had been more destructive than usual, and a couple people had gotten minor injures from getting caught in the crossfire.

Tucker gets a slight reprieve in that he makes it to school before Sam does.  He finds Danny leaning against what seems like a random locker, and it catches him off guard enough that he walks over.

“Hey,” he says, and tries not to wince when Danny turns a wary gaze on him.  He’s also clearly not doing much better than Tucker knows he was yesterday.

A second later, however, he relaxes slightly.  “Hey Tuck,” he says.  “Where’s Sam?”

“Dunno,” Tucker says, looking over his shoulder.  “She’s not here yet, I guess.”

Danny nods, then looks back down the hallway towards the doors.  But he doesn’t look full of dread, so he can’t be looking for Sam.

“Why are you hanging out here?” Tucker says.  “Doesn’t Dash like to pummel you if you stand in one place too long before class?”

“Or after class, or ever,” Danny says with a small smile.  “Nah I’m… waiting for someone.”

Tucker gives him a curious look.  “Someone?  This isn’t Jazz’s locker.”

Danny hesitates.  “No,” he agrees.

“So who are you waiting for?”

“Uh…”

The door at the end of the hallway slams open, and the person decidedly neither of them is waiting for storms in.

Sam marches right over towards them, and wastes approximately no time before jumping in with, “Did you hear Phantom hurt a little kid last night?” she snaps, leaning back against the locker with a loud bang.

Tucker looks down at his bag, and moves like he’s digging it open to look for something important.

Danny sighs and leans back against the same locker he was standing by before.  “No.”

“Well he did,” Sam says, crossing her arms.  “Honestly, if he can’t bother to be careful, how is he any better for this town than the other ghost’s he fights?  Right, Tucker?”

Tucker jerks upright.  “What?”

Sam shifts so Danny can’t see her, narrows her eyes and glares at him.  “Right?” she repeats.

Tucker leans away from her, and thankfully, the warning bell rings before he can give a reply.

Sam gives him one last glare and then stalks off to her first period.

Danny sighs, looks back at the locker one last time, and then starts off towards their shared algebra class.

Tucker hesitates a second, but then Danny looks back at him like he expects him to follow, so Tucker does.

“Does she ever talk about anything else these days?” slips out of Tucker’s mouth before he can help it.  He winces, glad Sam isn’t around anymore.

Danny smiles a little, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.  “Nah, but she’s always been like that,” he says.

Tucker turns to stare at him.  “What are you talking about?”  Sam has not always been like this.  Tucker spends ages trying to reconcile this Sam with the one who used to light up when she spotted Danny across a room.

Danny turns to look at Tucker like he’s being weird.  “Uh, have you met her?  She’s this passionate about everything.  Remember the time she fought for weeks to change the lunch menu?  Or that time she let the gorilla out of its cage in the zoo?  Or the time she fought to save all of the frogs from being dissected in class?  If she comes up with something she thinks will make the world better, she sticks with it and sticks with it until it’s done.”  He looks down, and the smile drops from his face.  “It’s actually one of the things I really love about her,” he says quietly.

Tucker looks down and tightens his grip on his backpack.  He can’t breathe right.

He doesn’t think Sam would be very happy if he explains to Danny that her thing with Phantom isn’t a passion like changing the lunch menu was a passion.

What he wouldn’t give for Sam to get passionate about lunch menus again.

The second bell rings just as he and Danny make it into class, and Tucker shakes the thought away as best he can.

…

Tucker finds out who Danny was waiting for that morning against lunch.  Sam gets to the table first, and Tucker watches Danny walk as slowly as he seems capable of over towards their table from the second he walks in the room.

Sam glances over her shoulder when she sees Tucker looking at something behind her, and though she wasn’t speaking at all before now, she turns back around and says, “I just don’t understand how that Mom still thinks he’s a hero when he’s the reason her daughter got hurt,” Sam says, like they’d been in the middle of a conversation before Danny showed up.  “You know what I mean?”

Danny sits down next to Tucker, positioning himself as far away from Sam as possible.

“You know what I mean, Tucker?” Sam repeats, and Tucker turns to her in surprise.

Sam narrows her eyes at him, and Tucker sneaks a glance at Danny to find him poking at his food and keeping his gaze very decidedly away from Sam.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Tucker says anyway.

Sam narrows her eyes and opens her mouth, but before she can say anything a familiar voice calls “Hey, Danny!”

All three of them turn in surprise to find Valerie approaching the table.

“Hey,” Valerie says, sliding in to the table right next to Danny.  “Are you free to talk about those book reports we have to write?”

“Uh, sure,” Danny says, and before Tucker can even ask what Valerie’s doing here or what she’s talking about, she grabs Danny by the arm and pulls them both up and away from the table.  Danny manages to grab his bag before they do, but then Valerie pulls them out of the lunch room and out of sight.

Tucker blinks after them for another second.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam growls, and Tucker turns immediately to her, feeling something in his chest curl up in dread.

“Hey,” he says before Sam can say anything else.  “I’ve got an idea.”

Sam turns to glare at him.  “What?”

“How about we… don’t care?  And let Valerie make her own choices and decisions?”

Sam stares at him.  “She obviously doesn’t know, Tucker,” she spits.

“I mean yeah, I just thought—”

“Well don’t bother.  Come on, we have to do something,” Sam snaps, grabbing Tucker by the arm and yanking them both up from the table.  They get a couple of stares as they leave, and Tucker tries not to shrink under them.

Valerie and Danny are both down a side hallway, meaning Sam can stop dragging Tucker behind her right before the corner and listen to what they’re saying.

“Sorry for the suddenness,” Valerie says.  “You looked like you wanted out of there.”

“What, no I’m fine,” Danny says, though Tucker can hear the obvious hesitation in his voice.  He looks away from Sam.

“Sure, that’s why you were staring down at the table looking miserable,” Valerie says, and Tucker winces.

“No no, that’s… unrelated,” Danny says weakly.  Valerie snorts.

“Look, come with me.  I know a spot we can eat alone and no one’ll find us,” she says.  Tucker’s eyes widen, and he grabs Sam by the arm and pulls her back towards the lunchroom as quickly as they can.

Thankfully, they make it inside without being caught.  Tucker just manages to ignore the stares of the people around them as they walk back to their still empty usual table and sit down.

“I knew it,” Sam hisses, smacking her hands down on the table.  “They are friends.  He tricked Valerie somehow!”

Tucker doesn’t say anything.

“Tucker,” Sam says, clearly trying to get his attention.  “We have to get her away from him.  I’m going to need your help.”

“Oh, now you care about Valerie,” Tucker snaps before he realizes what he’s saying.

Sam blinks at him, caught off guard.  “What?”

Tucker glares down at the table, lets out a harsh sigh, and then stands up.  Then he picks up his backpack and storms out of the lunchroom.

He doesn’t have the energy for Sam today.

…

He ends up at the training grounds in hope of avoiding her, since she’s there less often now.  He’s pretty sure he beats the best time on the ceiling course three times over, though he’s not really keeping track.

But apparently, not one second of his life can be even the slightest bit easy anymore, because after less than half an hour there alone, Sam shows up.

“Hey,” she says.  Tucker ignores her and keeps at the punching bags he’s moved over to.

“I was looking for you,” Sam says.

“I don’t care,” Tucker snaps.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“You!  You’re what’s wrong with me!” Tucker whirls to face her, gesturing wildly at her.  “You just— all the time I can’t—”

“Woah, slow down,” Sam says, crossing her arms.  “You need to chill.”

“I need to chill?”

“Uh, yeah, if it’s going to affect us working together,” Sam says.  “We need to get Valerie away from Danny.”

“That’s it?  That’s what you care about, working together to isolate Danny?”

Sam rolls her eyes.  “You don’t have to put it that way, stupid.”

“Oh I’m sorry, were you thinking about it a different way?” Tucker pulls up his ecto gun on his wrist without bothering with the rest of the suit.  He blasts the punching bag right off its hook in the ceiling, sending it crashing towards the other wall.  It doesn’t do much in regards to getting out his anger.

“Think about it however you want, whatever means you’ll actually get off your butt and do it,” Sam snaps.

Tucker glares over his shoulder at her.  “So that really is all you care about, then?”

“That’s what’s important,” Sam says, putting her hands on her hips.  “Am I supposed to care about something else?”

Tucker shakes his head.  “What was he doing that’s so dangerous to Valerie, Sam?  Arguing that he’s not miserable around us when he clearly is?  Accepting her invitation to go eat lunch alone?”

“Uh, yes.  Who knows what kind of things he’ll do if he gets her alone!”

“Spy on them, then.  You didn’t seem to have a problem before we learned Danny was Phantom, why is it suddenly off the table now?”

“I could stop it a lot quicker if I—”

“Stop!  Stop it!” Tucker reaches up and grabs his beanie in his fists.  “Leave it alone, Sam!”

“Why in the world would I do that?”

Tucker glares at her.  “Because he hasn’t done anything.  And because I’d like you to stop acting like you give two shits about Valerie.”

“What are you talking about, of course I do!”

“Really?  Because in our very first fight you flew off right after she got hurt and left me to apologize for you!  She was sitting there with a hurt leg, and you just flew off like it didn’t matter that she was hurt—”

“Because I felt like I couldn’t breathe!” Sam screams, and Tucker stops up short.

Sam buries her head in her hands and takes a shaky breath, and Tucker blinks at her a couple times, suddenly not sure what to say.

Finally, Sam pulls her head up.  “I couldn’t breathe,” she says weakly.  “That ghost lackey of Danny knocked my board out from under me and then Danny just caught me and I didn’t know what he was going to do and I couldn’t breathe.  I thought I was going to die.  I had to get out of there as soon as I knew he was gone.”  She takes another shaky breath and glares at Tucker, though it’s definitely weaker than she’d want it.  “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Tucker opens his mouth, at a loss for words.

Sam shakes her head a couple times, buries her head in her hands, then gives a frustrated scream.  She pulls her head up and twists her bracelet until her suit pops on, then turns towards one of the dummies shaped like Danny, and blasts its head clean off.

Tucker’s next breath catches in his throat and he spins away.

“Of course, I care that Valerie got hurt,” Sam snaps, her voice still sounding shaky, but more put together.  “I also care that she’s in a position to get even more hurt and not realize it.  Do you only care about one?”

“He hasn’t done anything,” Tucker whispers.

Sam marches around until she’s in front of Tucker and puts her hands on his shoulders.  Tucker ignores the way he can still feel her hands shaking.  “Yeah, because he’s not going to lead with ‘Hey, you don’t mind that I’m Phantom and hunt you down every other week, do you?’”

“And Valerie’s supposed to come back at that with ‘as long as you don’t mind that I’m the Red Huntress and hunt you down right back?’” Tucker asks quietly.

Sam scoffs.  “Tucker, don’t be ridiculous.  Obviously Danny knows.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why else would he be hanging out with Valerie?” Sam asks.

So he doesn’t have to hang out with us, Tucker doesn’t say.

“Look, if we’re going to keep him away from Valerie, I’m going to need your help,” Sam says.  “You can’t just let me do all the talking.  When I ask you to agree with something, or ask you to comment on something you need to do it.  And you need to stick with me when something goes down.  I need you to back me up, Tucker.  You can’t just be a bystander.”

Tucker pulls out of Sam’s grip and takes a couple steps back.  He knows she’s realized how he’s started shaking too.

“I’m not saying you have to jump straight into the deep end,” Sam says, her voice surprisingly gentle. “Just… don’t sit there in silence, okay?  And don’t just float in the background.  Engage.  Just a little bit.”

Tucker looks up at Sam.  “If anyone damages your board again,” he says softly, the best he can offer right now, “I’ll catch you.  Okay?”

Sam pulls in a sharp breath.  “Tucker, that’s not what I meant,” she says, reaching down to twist her bracelet back and forth.

“I know,” Tucker says.  He looks over at the now headless Danny dummy and swallows.  “But that’s what I’ve got.”  He looks back at Sam.  “I can be defense.”

Sam looks at him for a long stretch of time.  Finally, she nods.  “Okay.”

Tucker melts in relief, but then Sam says, “But you have to be ready to be offense, you know.  I’ve told you I can’t protect you all the time.”

“I will be,” Tucker says.

Sam narrows her eyes at him, and points to the dummies behind him.  “Prove it.”

Tucker’s mouth goes dry.  He starts to shake his head.

“You can be defense,” Sam says.  “But prove it first.”

Tucker looks at her for a moment, but finds her with narrowed eyes, staring at him.  She’s not going to back down.  She never backs down.

Tucker turns around and looks at the Danny dummies, sitting there harmlessly not bothering anyone.

He turns back to Sam.  “Will you leave Danny and Valerie alone for now?”

Sam narrows her eyes further.  “That’s not what I said.”

“We need more information,” Tucker says.  “We don’t know what— what he’s planning to do.  What if by trying to stop it right now we make it worse?”

Sam looks at him for a moment.  “Fine.”

Tucker swallows the bile building up in his throat, and turns and aims at one of the dummies— a Fenton one, just for good measure.

He squeezes his eyes shut and fires.

[hunting-songs]

TYPES OF PEOPLE: Random Aesthetics

[ 13 | 24] Changelingcore: Broken insect wings, wildflower meadows, catching tadpoles, lingering mist after it rains, wet shoes from the damp grass, the feeling of moss under your hands, collection of strange trinkets and objects, taking your stuffed animals on adventures, doodling on your clothes, busy hands, wading knee deep into a lake, screaming into the air to ease frustration, organizing and reorganizing your treasures, bird calls, animal howls, digging in the mud, chewing on your lip until it bleeds, bruises and scrapes, the urge to live in the woods and never return to regular society, knotted hair, forest shrines, putting flower blossoms in your hair, flooded swampy areas, jumping from short cliffs

[ 13 | 29] Suburban Gothic: Hot muggy air sticking to your skin, the buzz of florescent lights, flickering street lights, budget popsicles, late night drug store visits, muffled arguments, an old clock ticking, guady wallpaper, gossamer curtains, dusty cotton sheets, faded quilts, dog barkings, milkshakes in an empty diner, broken windows and graffiti, abandoned train tracks, 24/7 laundromats, rusty swingsets, shadowy silhouettes, semi-abandoned malls, sounds of far off traffic and train horns, driving around at night while soft music plays on the radio, tv static, junk yards and pick-n-pulls, holding hands with a stranger, urban legends, varsity jackets, broken glass on the road, crumbling buildings, local television channels

[ 6 | 18] Cuddle Party: Excited giggles and hushed whispers, condensation on drinkware, running through an empty field hollering and whooping in the dead of night, sitting on the porch in rocking chairs, drunken "I love you"s, old cartoons, classic disney movies, five dollar pizza and breadsticks, singing out loud in the car, finding new places to explore, county fairs and arcade visits, eating fair food and screaming your lungs out on rides, trying to earn as many tickets at the arcade and still winning cheap prizes, being the last one to fall asleep, casually sleeping all together in the same bed, holding hands in crowds, if one of us isn't having a good time none of us are, wondering how long these days will last

[ 8 | 22] Cryptid Academia: Listening to video essays, exploring abandoned buildings (legally and illegally), pocket knives, blackout curtains, newspaper clippings, viewing the night sky through a telescope, visiting natural history or science museums, old typewriters, info dumping conspiracy theories on friends, making plans to investigate that never come to fruition, tearing yet another hole into your clothes climbing over fences, shoddily patched up clothes, keychains and aluminum pins, novelty socks, analog watches, Buzzfeed Unsolved, cryptid podcasts, sprint training so you can outrun whatever is chasing you, rubiks cubes, sore fingers from mending, thrift shopping, essays only about cryptids

[ 11 | 21] Desertwave: Billowing winds, sandstorms, wind chimes and suncatchers, succulents in handmade clay pots, aloe vera plants on the kitchen windowsill, the distant howl of a coyote, faded winnebagos, the soft hiss of patio misters, campsites and trailer parks, large rock formations covered in graffiti, picking up trash, the crackle of a bonfire, cacti and joshua trees in the backyard, never getting the sand completely out of your shoes, dusty clothes, laying in a hammock watching the stars, water balloon fights, hot springs, mexican ice cream bars, rocky desert mountains, plots of sand and plants that stretch on as far as the eye can see

[raoulite]

hallway in forest fair mall, OH

[ilovecryoffearsm]

Why is it that all of the irl girls i know are really shitty and wont go into the forest with me naked and craft little articles of clothing out of cool shit and wont befriend animals and indulge in our urges (they don't haven the same urges as me) even though theyre all super hard and change to fast and cannot be accomplished and just say really mean thjngs but not in cool ways instead why do other girls (not on tumblr) judge me for things i can't control and why does every girl irl not share any similarities with me like the feeling of rot and wanting to date men that aren't real/are too hard for us to get and why don't girls irl wanna bake with me am i like not cool why is the only person that likes me just eugh and makes jokes about fucking kids and why am i too young for girls like me to hangout with me outside of tumblr this is so not fair!!!!!! I just wanna be in the early 2000s and shop at the mall, disappear into the fog, become a princess, become a sugar baby, become a thug, run an all girls gang, have an all girls sleepover, hangout with my gals in the retirement home, become cottagecore girls and be really good at cleaning and baking, make a cool rock/metal band and do a bunch of other shit with other girls like me and that get me truly but thats a lot to ask for. I just really wanna have friends that are girls that share my feelings even though i can't put them into words.