#chest freezer for sale

[s0fter-sin]

me to me: i would like to buy one disability support item please

me: but you already have something like this

me: i know, but this is easier to use and will put less strain on my body

me: but you can just use the other one

me: the other one puts me off doing essential things bc of how daunting it is to use

me: but it’s a waste of money

me: it’ll improve my quality of life

me: but-

me: just buy the fucking thing

[captain-krazy]

YAY!!!

New upright freezer for my basement has been purchased and will be delivered tomorrow!!!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Who doesn't love a perfectly preserved time capsule? This 1968 beauty in Rockford, IL is like stepping back in time. 4bds, 4ba, $450K.

The small entrance has tiled flooring to protect the carpet that runs all through the house.

Why is it always green? This was a dramatic home when it was new- stone fireplace, sunken living room, and wrought iron railings were the height of fashion.

The living area is huge. Note the large stone bench matching the fireplace and the cornice boards that discreetly hide the unsightly curtain rods.

The fireplace stone continues and has a huge mirror. In the corner is shelving and 2 steps up to the dining room.

The dining room has dated curtains that the buyer will inherit. I love the kitty-corner table. That was a common placement in mid-century style.

Next comes the kitchen. Actually, they must've updated it b/c I don't think that 2-tone cabinets were a thing yet. But, the ditzy, small, busy print of the wallpaper with matching shades was definitely the style. Note the original avocado dishwasher and dust shelving above the upper cabinetry, that was later replaced by soffits.

Wait a minute, I'm seeing props here- there's a new dishwasher and new ovens, but they kept the old avocado ones. I wonder if they work or, if it's just nostalgia. There are also 2 cooktops. Wow, they really preserved everything.

Look at the green glass.

Large laundry room off the kitchen.

Oh, look, an avocado washer/dryer set. This is amazing. And, look at the old sink. I hope someone who loves it, buys it, b/c it was so lovingly cared for.

Nice large everyday dining area has a pony wall separating the family room. So much green everywhere. I wonder if this set came that way or if they painted it.

Another stone fireplace flanked by shelving. Knotty pine walls, and folding shutter doors- all fashions of the past. I can't believe that they have the Colonial furniture that was so popular at the time. Even though it was all the rage, you don't see it around anymore. According to the listing, there is going to be an estate sale, so this furniture will be available.

The primary bedroom is pretty big. Geez, there's carpeting everywhere and some of it is looking gnarly.

It has an en-suite, which is unusual. Look at that fancy cabinet. Green laminate counter, too.

This bedroom is also pretty big. Look at the consummate girl's white bedroom furniture of the mid-century.

The den has a big old map probably with countries that don' t even exist anymore.

More bedrooms on the 2nd fl.

Oh, look at that! A hope chest! They were popular for a teenage girl to receive as a gift. Then, she would put in blankets, etc., in the hopes of one day getting married and using them. I can't get over the historic furniture in this place.

And, then they've got a big family room up here. Wow, this house has so much furniture and tchotchkes.

Winter? No problem. Just set the lawn furniture up in the basement.

There's also a finished part of the basement. This is a craft room, and there is also a canning room.

Look at the antique freezer on the right. This place is a museum.

This part of the basement isn't finished even though it has a brick fireplace. No matter, they still used it as a family room, anyway.

According to the listing, this is a 2 car garage, called a "cottage garage," b/c I guess it looks like a residence.

This cool log cabin on the property is used as a playhouse, according to the listing.

Yeah, but look at it, it's really a residence.

There's a lot of land, 3.50 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/6151-Newburg-Rd-Rockford-IL-61108/5537324_zpid/

[heartfullofleeches]

[mentions of cannibalism, self mutilation, light angst/body horror]

Thinking about Liu [parasite Yan] overeating... I mean it would rarely happen considering they practically starve themselves as they don't really like eating people, but if there's enough "obstacles" in their way Liu might a little greeedy. Liu may also binge eat the meat they store their freezer when they haven't eaten in a while or at times of intense stress and not having their darling around such as them being gravely injured/in the hospital or out of town.

As briefly mentioned in a previous post, Liu has a limited range on their shape shifting abilities which can grow as they increase in mass from the human flesh they've consumed. For example, as a 6'5 person if they wanted to be taller they'd have to sacrifice tissue from another part of their body like organs. With all the eating they've done in this time frame, Liu would have left over meat they have to put somewhere. They start out with lesser notable areas like filling out their chest/hips or growing their hair longer. Might add an inch or two or give themselves more weight/chub - but there's still more tissue left. Their hair can't be too long given that they are a butcher and people are sure to notice if they make themselves any taller as they were already a tall person before this. At this stage they'll make bizarre modifications such as another heart or adding more length to their tongue(s). They hate having this much flesh as it just reminds them of what they've done wrong. Most of their body is made up of stolen flesh. They're a monster. They have to get rid of it.

Liu will chew off the excess flesh if they have to. It goes from biting the flesh off their fingers to chewing the entire finger off and burying them with the rest. They do it mindlessly at times so imagine the horror on their Darling's face when they bite off a finger at a moment they think they're alone. Imagining an angst scenario where their darling tries to stop them from mutilating themselves further, but Liu refuses to let them come beat them and see what they've become.

On a brighter note because I don't want my baby to suffer, Darling braiding Liu's hair when it's long and down their back

-

Reader: Hm.... Something's different about you today....

Liu, an entire foot taller than the were the night before: um.... I've been growing my hair out recently?

Reader: Yea! Mind if I brush it?

-

Reader, holding a stethoscope: Check out what I found at a garage sale. Hold still while I check your heart beat

[Reader places the tool on their chest - hearing two, nearly identical but still distinct heartbeats at the rate their beating]

Reader: ? Is this thing busted?

Liu: .... I'm really happy to see you?

[v-as-in-victor]

During my 20 year marriage there were a bunch of things that Just Couldn't Be Accomplished, on Account of the Difficulty.

And there were things that could be accomplished but it wasn't my job to do them so I didn't need to know, except for noticing the extraordinary amounts of fuss around them.

This Friday I ordered a new chest freezer that R and I had agreed to buy in 2022 but I simply Had Not bought it. On Account of the Difficulty.

I ordered it, selected today for delivery, and it was delivered and the old freezer removed. I did a modest amount of prep work (building on ongoing freezer emptying efforts by R) and then two burly people with proper lifting straps and good form came and broguht the new one and took the old one away.

It took half an hour.

There was no difficulty. We'd had the cash in the house savings account the whole time. We'd agreed readily on what we wanted. I had already had an electrician come (in 2022!!) and put in a dedicated circuit for it.

Having the old freezer hauled out was a $50 additional charge at point of sale. Just that easy.

Unlearning learned helpless at my age is a sonofabitch.

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 42: Rockin reception

Running down the aisle hands clasped together giggling like school children you both run to the side of the property where your reception is being held to see how absolutely gorgeous it looks the koi pond is to die for the gazebo has hand carved roses and vines down the pillars the yard it perfectly decorated & at the middle of it all is a one large table surrounded by the small round ones for your guests. Your wedding party table Jeff & Grant have the DJ station set & ready to go. You know it’s gonna be awhile for everyone to find their assigned seats so you decide on giving Eddie one of his gifts while you both wait. “My love?” He turns to you eyes of a child full of excitement love & adventure “yes princess?” Pulling his hand to your lips kissing his knuckles “I got you a few wedding gifts & id like to give you one of them since we have to wait a bit anyway” “well what the hell are we waiting for let’s go beautiful” you tug him around to the front of the property he starts to look very confused “uh honey I think it’s a little too early for us to leave our wedding just yet I still have to dance with you beautiful” you giggle “we’re not leaving goof ass come on” pulling him up to the front drive way to the newly built mailbox that you purposely had gareth wrap in wrapping paper so Eddie couldn’t see what was on it. “Go ahead Ed’s take the paper off this sucker for me please?” He furrows his brows “why in the hell would you wrap this mailbox in paper” he’s laughing but starts tugging at the tape and paper anyway as you stand eagerly to see his reaction as soon as he’s got it fully unwrapped he stands there emotionless the black mail box with purple numbers & lettering etched across the bottom “The Munson’s” he turns to you eyes brimming with tears “honey does this mean?…” you wrap your arms around his neck “yes Ed’s this our new home” you step back twirling his own set of keys to the house you made sure to fill the loop with loads of skull & d&d dice homemade keychains tossing it to him it bounces off of his chest & into his hands. “Come on handsome let’s take a quick tour” he smiles grabbing you pulling you to the front door “sweetheart I can’t believe this is ours I don’t even remember this place being up here” “baby I bought the property & built it from scratch well the contractors did” his jaw drops “honey are you fuckin kidding how much was all this?!” “Eds it doesn’t matter but to make you feel better it was cheaper then you think this area has been for sale for 30 years I got a deal now hush no money talk let’s go see” you tug him inside all black leather furniture black marble tables and lamps to match cherry hardwood flooring plush lavender carpets. Heading into the large kitchen with big marble island & countertops two fridges and a deep freezer because you know the guys will be over a lot. “Wow honey this is absolutely insane I love it” “love that’s not even the best part” you take him through your large dining room towards the stairwell “okay big gift first the second door on the right” he opens it to see a room painted black with a large table made of an old burnt tree & a custom thrown & every edition of all the d&d manuals you could get your hands on a closet full of dice & blank new figures for everyone to paint loads of pre set character sheets & an art station off to the corner along with a small bar “holy fuckin shit!! Holy shit baby what the fuck?!” He picks you up spinning you around the room before kissing you crashing his lips into yours “thank you princess this is the best gift I’ve ever received” tears in his eyes “that’s not all honey let’s go” you pull him into your new bedroom California king sized bed a mirror on the ceiling all black marble dressers & night stands leading into a master bathroom with a large jetted tub stand in shower & his & her sinks “honey this is absolutely gorgeous you did amazing” “no problem handsome anything for you this is our forever home so it had to be just right” hugging him from behind “come come still more” pulling him to the other 3 bedrooms.

Tugging him into the bedroom next door to yours painted yellow & already set up a full nursery with a beautiful round crib with canopy Eddie walks around the room at all the stuffed animals & books gets to the crib & turns to you “there’s a gift in the crib eds” he tilts over the top of the crib to see a pregnancy test & picks it up “princess does this mean?..” “you’re gonna be a daddy” & with that he sweeps you off your feet into a hug sobbing into your shoulder “I love you thank you sweetheart for everything I’m gonna be a daddy & without you that wouldn’t be possible I love you so much. Wait… does anyone else know?” “No I figured we could tell them together I just found out this morning I wanted a nursery set regardless for when we were ready I just didn’t think it’d happen that quickly haha” he pulls you back down the stairs you both look out the back door to see all your guests seated “ready princess?” “You know it” opening the door grant sees you both & grabs the mic “may I present to you the new Mr & Mrs Munson!!” Everyone standing clapping & whistling as you both make your way to the clearing for dancing as “My eyes adored you” by Frankie Valli & the four seasons starts to play you & Eddie wrapped in each other your arms around his neck his rested at your waist foreheads touching swaying to the music. Your ankles start to feel cold & you turn to see gareth with a fog machine giving you a thumbs up you mouth a thank you to him & he mouths an anytime back at you. You turn back to kiss your husband as your fairytale becomes a reality the song dies down at you both head to your table as Jeff finds an appropriate mix of music to play so everyone can be seated for food & drinks. “That cake looks great sweetheart where’d we get it?” “Oh no my aunt made it for us Ed’s she’s amazing I mean just look at it it’s art you can eat” you laugh together his hand resting on your thigh you both have been smiling at each other since you set foot on that aisle & just couldn’t stop yourself finally knowing what happy feels like you never want the feeling to disappear. As everyone enjoys their meal Eddie keeps his one hand on your belly & the other with fork in hand eating every so often kissing your cheek & whispering sweet nothings in your ear “that dress is gorgeous sweetheart but I bet it’d look even better on the floor” his breath tickling your ear sending chills down your spine. You lean over to reply to his naughty statement “oh yeah well you look good just sitting in that chair but I bet you’d look even better with me sitting on you instead” he groans “keep it up sweetheart you’re gonna pay for that later” “I’ll be looking forward to it” & with that you graze your fingers across his inner thigh watching him shift & squirm in his seat making you giggle but also excited to bless every room in the house as soon as this is all over. Everyone enjoys their meal & it’s almost time for speeches but first you want to make your announcement. You stand up brushing down the skirt of your dress & clear your throat while tapping a butter knife against your glass of sparkling cider everyone turns to you & you gesture for Eddie to stand up “Firstly I’d like to thank everyone for coming today & celebrating with us. You have no idea how much each of you truly mean to us. Now before we get into speeches & getting all sappy or goofy depending on who’s speaking but with that being said me & Eddie have some new news for you all & we figured what better time to tell everybody than now. So I just wanted to tell you that we’re…. HAVING A BABY!!” Eddie screams the last part with you his eyes sparkling with something that makes your heart race but melt all at the same time. Everyone is cheering & a few people stand up to head to our table. Wayne is full on sobbing along with Joyce & Robin who’s full on sprinting towards you to wrap you in a vice like hug “congratulations oh my god I’m so excited I’m gonna have a niece or nephew!!” You cry with her Steve’s next in line giving you a warm comforting embrace “I’m so happy for you both” to be continued…

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Seven - Bake Sale

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - The calm after the storm.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

8.7K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: i think im super proud of this one omg guys also...I put a little note at the end cause i didn't wanna spoil anything by saying what i was gonna say. also i fixated so much on each section of this as i wrote it so its like half proof read and then i was like ok the rest is up to god

Masterlist

Prev |

The storm subsided at around 2:00 AM and it would go down as the biggest storm in Hawkins’ history to date.  The flooding was unlike anything anyone had seen in years and the poor unequipped town was drenched to its roots.  Minor water damage affected homes and businesses, nothing too devastating but an inconvenience nonetheless.  A few trees had been struck down, if not by lightning then by the high winds that coursed through the night like they owned it.  Streets were blocked off with caution tape and traffic cones as the damages were assessed and Hawkins Square was littered in deep puddles that would soak you up to the knee if you happened to misstep.

It was fitting.  The world seemed to look just as you felt.  Mutilated.  Tarnished.  The calm after the storm, indeed.  Although things that night looked up between you and Eddie, an invisible peace treaty signed by the ink bleeding on the coffee cup, the scars didn’t just vanish.  This wasn’t a movie, this was real life and things didn’t just become beautiful again over night.  Pain didn’t just cease because you wanted it to or because someone said the right thing.  Someone could say a million of the right things but it doesn’t excuse their wrongdoings and the harm they’re capable of.  And it doesn’t erase them as someone who would pull the trigger on you if given the chance.

The sun flowed into the room at just the right angle, the kitchen countertop illuminated with the faintest rainbow in the morning light.  Beauty after tragedy.  It was cold, god was it cold.  The apartment might as well have been a walk-in freezer at this point, a place where you could store cold cuts and popsicles without hesitation.  But it was hard to complain about your living conditions when there was a warmth blossoming deep within your very being.  Whiskey colored eyes had the same effect as the real thing.  Warming you up from the inside out, relaxing every tensed muscle, melting away every stupid problem.  It pooled deep within you, a buried desire that was clawing its way out of your chest.  You’d been without a glance of those rich and honeyed irises for at least six hours, well into the beginning of the hour of 8:00 AM and yet it felt like you’d drank them in seconds ago with the way your veins heated.  The way your blood pumped and your nerves mellowed out.  If he was like a smooth shot of whiskey, you were at risk of becoming an alcoholic if you weren’t careful.

Snap out of it.

This was not a fairytale, things could not be fixed overnight.  He was still a stranger to you, a shell, you could not settle into comfort so easily, no matter how good it felt.  It didn’t matter that the buzz lingering beneath your surface was far more powerful than the first time at sixteen.

It didn’t matter.

All you knew was hurt by the hands of those closest and you weren’t going to let it happen again.  Never again.  Not even for boyish dimples.  Not even for the stupid cup of hot chocolate.  And certainly not for the way it felt to be pressed against his back when you begrudgingly accepted a ride home on his death machine of a motorcycle the night of the storm.  But that didn’t mean he didn’t have prime real estate in the back of your mind.

–

His hair.  Several curls falling from the confines of the low messy bun that should warrant a lecture from you on the food safety guidelines but you can’t bring yourself to do it.  Soft brown tendrils framed a concentrated face, tongue poked out in deep thought at the simple task of blending ice and coffee.  The grinding of the blades against the ice for longer than necessary should have you in shambles, causing an uproar, at the very least scolding him under your breath.  You don’t.  Instead it’s as if you’re under some kind of spell, a spell that continuously draws you to the insufferable but absolute Disney prince of a man before you.  It had been years since you’d seen him in such a light and it made everything all the more conflicting.

I hate him.

Several curses escaped his delicately pink lips as the blender came to a halt, the consistency of the liquid was long overblended and almost became a thicker milk but all you could focus on as his back came to face you was his broad shoulders, far more adult than you’d ever realized.  He was no longer a lanky high schooler, his frame had filled out and it filled out in his favor.  Had his arms only recently become a touch manlier or did your subconscious automatically blur it out all those times you encountered him only to end up with even more distaste after each interaction?  A distaste which would only blind you to the man he grew into.

No, I hate him.

But the moment you would tear your gaze away it would only gravitate right back to his hands which you guessed were noticeably larger than your own but you were in no position to find out.  With his rings more than likely temporarily abandoned atop the table in the back, his fingers seemed bare.  It only further made you appreciate them, a flash of a daydream posed in your mind where large hands decorated with chipped black polish rested at your waist.  

No, no, no.

He was not yours to daydream about nor would you want him to be.

Although…it was okay to think of him as physically attractive all while still keeping him at a distance wasn’t it?  After all, he was still awful.  You force yourself to recall the horrible things he’s said to you but you can only counter it with the appalling remarks you’d made in return.  Though he committed a horrendous act years ago that would make you bleed for years to come, you knew it didn’t warrant some of the comments you’d snapped at him in passing.  Especially those about his social status.  It was becoming apparent after the previous night’s conversation that you both struggled verbally and that his crude comments were always met with your degrading criticism.  You were both instigators.

But it was proving difficult to keep him in such a villainous light when he was so radiant.  So effortlessly alluring even as he tossed his liquified concoction into the sink with his brows knit tightly together and profanities falling from his tongue, thankfully quiet enough as to not alert any customers.  In all honesty, all he’s proved was that he was an awful barista.  Even then, it didn’t bother you as much as it should, your desire to scream at him would’ve been off the charts 24 hours ago.  That desire hadn’t even been simmering beneath your surface, the only desire burning within your depths was something unspoken and something you could never let bubble over ever again.  You wouldn’t.

Reality began settling back in, an enraged customer snapping his fingers at you, demanding your attention as your eyes widened at the realization that he’d been waiting on a simple black cup of coffee for the past few minutes.  Had the shop been busier you would’ve found a polite way to shut him up but in all fairness there were only three other customers at the moment, two of which were already enjoying their drinks.  Regardless, it didn’t seem to warrant the entitled behavior of the frowning middle aged man, a simple where is my order? would have sufficed.

“I’m so sorry, let me check on that for you.”

Customer service served with a smile.  And a side of sarcasm.

“Oh, you’ll check on that?  It’s a cup of coffee.  How hard is it to make—“

“There was a mix up with the orders, here’s your coffee.  My fault.”  Eddie slid the cup across the to go counter to its awaiting consumer, eyes slightly narrowed.

There was no mix up.  You really did forget all about the bland coffee up until you were rudely reminded.  And it definitely wasn’t Eddie’s fault.

—

1 Week Later

There was no escaping how absolutely enchanting a mundane task such as scrubbing the sink was.  It didn’t make sense and yet you lingered, pretending to rinse out the blender one time too many with the hope of catching Eddie’s forearms flex in his movements as he maneuvered the sponge around the sink.

Pathetic.

Which is why you tried so hard to snap yourself out of it.  Though you told yourself a week ago that you could admire from afar, even that was starting to not feel like enough which is why it needed to stop.  Eddie Munson had finally apologized to you but that didn’t mean throw caution to the wind.  You don’t just suddenly trust someone that for years only gave you reasons to steer far from them.  The key phrase was that he finally apologized.  Meaning he took far too long.  Fucked up too long ago and prolonged inexcusable behavior so far into the future that it was beyond repairing.  He didn’t deserve your sympathy or your persisting gaze.  Sorry meant nothing in the face of years of destruction.

Keep telling yourself that.

Because all you did was remain fixated on those stupid bats decorating his forearm for as long as rinsing out the blender would allow.  You had no idea how big of a breath you were holding in as you stood there next to him until you pulled away, snagging a rag from beneath the coffee bar to dry the container.  Lungs suddenly exhausted, you attempted to regain a semblance of your composure.

Every conversation since that one night had gone the same.  A few words exchanged pertaining to work only, some on his behalf coming off as silly banter only for you to keep your focus on any task you could grasp nearby, acting as if he bored you.  It killed him but he respected it.  That didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make nice.  If the only positive response he received from you all week was an accidental crack in your smile he would take it.  It’d be gone quicker than it came but he cherished it all the same.  In the last few weeks he came to terms with the fact that he could be on his best behavior but that didn’t mean you had to accept it which in turn meant that he would have to accept that.

So your muffled answers of ‘mhm’ and ‘yeah’ to everything he said felt like the end of the world to him but if it meant peace for you then he’d endure it.  The way you’d avoid his eyes made him miss you.  You were an arms length away but he missed you.  And no, it didn’t mean he necessarily missed prodding at you because you both had this sick game of who could throw the worst insult for years, it meant that he missed your attention, whether it be in spiteful phrases or aggressive stares.  He’d take what he could get and now, he was getting nothing.  He was starved, absolutely deficient of your gaze even if it did hold such a hateful fire for him.  Eddie supposes avoidance feels even worse than face to face conflict that was never even meant to be.  And it’s only because the way you shut down made him feel non-existent in your world.  At least before he had a place.

—

1 Week Later

Before every night shift at The Under-Ground was a grueling eight hours at the auto shop.  Hours that Eddie would spend mentally ripping himself to shreds even more so than before your more recent communication with him.  Although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he’d sometimes wager the idea of picking a small fight with you just to earn a fraction of your recognition, even if in a negative light.  Then he’d quickly acknowledge that doing so would only provide further evidence that he was never worthy of a moment of your time in the first place.  And he still fully believed that.  But he was eager to someday become the guy that was.

So when Steve Harrington strolled into the shop, twirling his keys around his finger, Eddie’s grip on his wrench tightened as he pushed himself further under the Chevy he’d been working on.  He’d never forgive Steve for all that happened, he’d take responsibility for his side of things but Steve inflicted a kind of pain on you that he could read in your eyes every time he saw you.  Though you hadn’t said much about Steve to him directly, the way you fixated on him and Eddie being ‘together’ dulled a certain light within you.  How could Steve let it happen if he knew the outcome?  The same could be asked of himself but he was concentrating on Steve right now.  The best friend.  The last person in the world you’d think to hurt you.

“Hey, Munson.”

At his feet stood the man in question.  The one that he’d swear to never associate with again.  Ignoring him wasn’t going to accomplish anything however he tried regardless.

“Munson.”

Figures.

“Get outta here, Harrington.”  Eddie remained monotone, uninterested in any persistence Steve was forcing upon him.

“Please, I need-“

“Need what?  Need me to get you off again?  Get out.”  It was said between clenched teeth, patience no longer a virtue.  There was rage bubbling under the surface and if he wasn’t careful, it would boil over and create an even bigger mess.  His conscience silenced his true inner monologue though that didn’t completely shut down his capabilities of biting back.  It was just much more stifled.

“No—what?  No, of course not.”  Steve’s nerves were fried and Eddie could tell just by the shake in his voice.  Fluorescent lights did him no favors, his usually radiant glow now dull in the stuffy garage.

“Then what, what are you doing in my bay?”  A seething Eddie slides out from underneath the sedan, sitting up to glare at the king himself.  “‘Cause I don’t have time for—whatever this is.”  He gestures between himself and Steve, fingers covered in grease.

“Just—I—have you, have you talked to her?”  Distraught.  Steve has the audacity to come off as distraught.  Eddie’s deep breath only furrows Steve’s brows, the vein in his neck straining as he focuses on the nearly irate mechanic before him.  

“Listen.”  Eddie’s coveralls are further tarnished with the oily substance from his hands as he wipes them on the rough navy material, frustration evident in the way his eyes squeeze shut for a mere second.  “You two seem to think communicating through me is going to fix this whole thing but it’s not.”  If he could run a hand down his face out of habit he would.  Instead he offers another sigh, a disappointed one.  “You need to talk to each other.  You keep using the enemy as a pawn and it's just gonna blow up in your face.”

“Munson, you’re not the enemy–”

Steve attempts to make nice, tries to let Eddie know that he’s not what he claimed him to be all those times.  Truth be told, Steve was always jealous.  

“Don’t try pitying me, dude.”  

It’s silent aside from the clanging of some tools a few bays down, the two staring at each other, one displaying an expression of warning while the other creases his forehead in some form of a plea.  An unsaid call for help.

“I’m not, I’m not!  I think we’ve both fucked up.  Bad.”  Way to go, Steve.  That’ll really help your case.  “Only difference is you fucked up in high school, we were all still kids.”  His words are lost on Eddie, he can tell by the way he reaches back to release his unruly curls from the confines of a bun, his head shaking around like a shaggy dog.  “I fucked up now so there’s no–no excuse of ‘we were so young!  I was dumb!’”

His excuse was that he’s selfish.  That was really all there was to it, no bigger picture, no hidden meaning that might bring justice to his name.  Steve was a horny guy and he in all honesty hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions.  Not even after Robin just about tore him a new one after she found out about the first time.  It’s like he’d forgotten all about the absolute heartbreak you went through, the fact that Eddie harbored a sore spot in your barely beating heart was miles away from his thought process.  King Steve must not have been buried that deep beneath his surface after all, not long forgotten back in junior year like he’d thought.  He was right here all along with the knife in his hand, unintentionally but still brutally stabbing you in the back.  And in the aftermath he was forced to bathe in the product of his egocentric ways.  No amount of self help books could remedy what seemed to be another broken heart, but even worse, platonically.  

This wasn’t like when he and Nancy called it quits back in senior year.  This was in a way, more gut wrenching and possibly pulled more tears from him than Nancy’s cutting but truthful words ever could.  And that’s saying something.  He shed a lot of tears that dreadful night but he’d go as far to say that he shed more the night you caught him hopping out of Eddie’s van.  Repercussions slammed his very existence and all he could do was blame himself because you had done nothing wrong and yet he went and severed the very friendship of someone who stuck by him through every questionable thing he had done.

And it was all over someone he never had any feelings for in the first place.  And over someone you did.  At least at some point.  

“Steve, I don’t have an excuse and you know it.”  Eddie was aware that he sounded borderline pathetic but what else did he have to hide?  His gaze lowered to his filthy boot, eyes as tired as his brain was before exhaling in defeat.  “I still keep fucking up whether I mean it or not.”  His pupils seemed to dilate in mourning, of what exactly, Steve couldn’t pinpoint.  Then Eddie shook his head, resentment etched into his features as he ran his tongue behind his teeth before clicking it in displeasure.  “Why are you even searching for an excuse?  What we both did was shitty.  But for you it might be even worse because while I was the ‘bad guy’ the whole time, you were still her best friend.”

Steve was well aware.  He craved the bliss that came with being ignorant but that was no longer something he could allow himself to do.

“Yeah.”  He breathes out, earnest eyes dropping to the scuffed floor below him.

“Yeah?  That’s it?  You need to like, go beg for mercy or some shit.”  

Receiving advice from Eddie Munson was the last thing Steve ever thought he’d be doing and yet here he was.  Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was schooling him and suddenly everything felt so backwards.  But maybe that’s how it needed to be in order for things to go back to how they were.  For you to at least talk to him, if not to beg for your mercy then to apologize profusely before leaving his fate in your hands.

“I know, man.”  A pitiful sigh escaped his lungs, too pitiful for Eddie’s liking.

The smell of fumes throughout the shop lingered in Steve’s nostrils which left him with a tinge of discomfort but nothing could prepare him for the way Eddie almost instantly stood to tower over him despite being around the same height.  It was his demeanor that made him feel inferior.  Dark eyes, deepening even more so from aggravation, lips contorted into a condemning scowl, fists clenched at his side, knuckles white.

“I don’t think you do, ‘cause why are you coming to me?”  Flared nostrils declared a new vendetta against Steve.  

“I-I…”

“Man up, Steve.  Say whatever you’re trying to say to me, to her.  I’m not the one who needs an apology.”  It was fair enough.  Steve wasn’t sure why he walked into that garage just minutes ago.  Maybe it was because despite what everyone says, Eddie was fairly level headed.  Maybe it’s because Steve needed someone stubborn to mentally beat some sense into him and Eddie was the only one he could think of to do it with no remorse.

With a noticeable gulp, Steve felt his eyes sting but didn’t dare let any tears surface.  He was not throwing a pity party.  “I don’t know how.  She won’t even talk to me–I–every time I try–”  

“That’s not my problem is it?  ‘M just your boy toy, remember?”  

Ouch.  

Among the turmoil Steve had created, he failed to understand that Eddie could be just as affected.  And what Eddie wouldn’t willingly reveal was that he was genuinely hurt.  Because you were hurt.  And because Steve seemed like the most oblivious idiot on the planet.  Sure he had his words with you and he wasn’t proud of most of them but that was another beast.  He had always been the opposing force, Steve was your right hand man the entire time.  In all honesty, Eddie couldn’t care less about Steve using him for pleasure, he cared that he did it at your expense whether he bothered to know that or not the few times they met up.  He knew he was just some guy so what was there to lose but Steve?  Steve had a lot to lose.

“Eddie, you wanted it too.”  Steve’s head shook in contemplation, longing for the right words but always finding the wrong ones.

“Yeah, well not anymore.”

Eddie’s harsh front faltered, exhausted as his shoulders slumped.  Steve ran a nervous hand through his stupid big hair and for some reason it put Eddie on edge.

“Obviously.”  Steve exhales, nodding before his eyes give away that he was lost in thought.  

“So why are you here?”

A valid question.  A question that Steve was finding he didn’t want to answer.  But he had to.

“Because–because I feel like I, I owe you an apology.”  He babbled at first, humiliating himself further before finding his footing and grasping the words that he knew would ground him.  Even if he didn’t like it, he knew this was the start of putting the pieces back together.

“Again, you’re talking to the wrong person–”  Eddie appeared worn out, head tilted back and gaze fixed to the ceiling as he let out a self soothing breath before being interrupted.

“I’m sorry for trash talking you for as long as we’ve known each other and then using you.”  He never thought he’d hear such words from Steve Harrington.  Which made it all that much more awkward to respond to.

“Thanks?”

Eddie expects that to be the end of it, waits for Steve to press his lips into a straight line in the silence and then stride out the large bay door without another word but he doesn’t.  And he kind of wants to kick his ass as more words begin to pour from his mouth. 

“I know…I know she should be the first person I apologize to, and, and I’ve tried to but she’s not my biggest fan right now.”  Boo hoo.  That’s the only response Eddie can conjure up so he keeps his mouth shut.  “And I guess, I feel like I can’t until I fix this first because Eddie…”  Steve sucks in such a large breath that Eddie feels like he may have been on the verge of passing out.  But he also senses it’s because all of this is very difficult for Steve to say aloud.  Within the same breath, Steve releases the rest of the words he was clutching so tightly to in his chest.  “She was so head over heels for you back then and I fucking spit on your name no matter how much she talked you up.  And I know you ruined things on your own but I went and fucked things up on my own and I don’t know how I could’ve done it so easily knowing, knowing how much she liked you and then how much she was hurt by you.  And then I went and did what I did, it just–it doesn’t make sense, I know.”

It’s quiet again.  Neither man speaking, only looking at each other in anticipation.  And after several moments of distant metal clanging against metal a few bays over, Eddie finally clears his throat.

“Harrington,”  He starts, eyes flashing with the most intimidating fire you’d ever see.   “You’re throwing the biggest pity party I’ve ever seen and if this is how you plan to apologize to her you should just give up now.”

The sentiment was cruel but beneath it was a plea of ‘get your shit together, please’.  And god, he hopes Steve picks up on it.  

“Yeah…yeah.”  Steve’s eyes were glazed over, the thinnest sheen of tears coating them before he blinked them back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Eddie guesses Wayne is rubbing off on him because his next words come off more wise than cruel.  An unexpected empathy resonated within him though he doesn’t fully believe it’s well deserved.

“What you need to do is just admit you messed up.  No excuses.  If she really matters to you, you don’t need to sit here and apologize to me and get all up in your feelings.  You need to talk to her and if she doesn’t wanna listen…”  He sighs, a sort of calm overtaking him.  “Well, respect it.”

Steve seemed to ponder, the advice overwhelming him but still penetrating through his thick skull.

–

Steve👸: Hey

Steve👸: Can we talk?

Sox🧦 : No

Steve👸 : Five minutes.  And then you’ll never have to hear from me again.  Promise.

“Who are you texting?”  Will leaned over to view your phone screen, ever the nosy boy.  Quickly clicking the off button, you refrain from sharing any messy details of what happened between you and Steve.  Sure he’d seen the initial smack down in the parking lot which you regret but he didn’t need to know anything more.  Hell, he didn’t even know that Robin was out of your circle.

“No one, I was just checking something for one of my assignments.”

“Liar.”  What you always forgot was how much of a bloodhound he was.  Could sniff out anything that smells slightly off.  It always caught you off guard although it only made you look like a fool since he did it time and time again.  Throwing a surprise party for his sixteenth birthday was impossible with the way he was such a detective.

“Nuh uh!”  You defended, placing your phone face down on the flour coated counter of the Byers kitchen, an egg taking its place in your hand as you cracked it against the off-white ceramic bowl.  

“Yuh huh!  Give me that–”

“Knock it off!”  Waving Will off, you threaten in a simple gesture to let the slimy egg white and yolk ruin his newest Hellfire shirt, a special edition design created just by him.  It was quite impressive actually, dragons symmetric on the front, breathing fire onto the logo overlaid with a skull and crossbones.

With a scoff, Will surrenders with his hands thrown up and eyes wide, amusement prominent across his face.  “It’s Steve, I already saw it.  So what are you trying to hide from me this time?”

“What–I’m not trying to hide anything.”  You were just further certifying yourself as a liar, but you felt this one time it was for good reason.

“Then why can’t I see it?”

An intense stare burned into the side of your face as you attempted to resume your unfinished baking, barely even started but the kitchen showcased several dirty bowls, some housed in the sink piled high in soapy water while others were scattered across the laminate.  Brownie batter, cookie dough, cake mix, the works.  It would appear as if you were preparing for a bake sale if anyone were to walk in.  But was just a Friday night turned into a full fledged baking frenzy on a whim.  Which was much needed after a particularly stressful shift at The Under-Ground, it had been busier than most days, mostly because fall activities began to ensue.  Hawkins’ famous hayride had started up for the season and dropped off several families in the square who only trickled into the shop for hot drinks and buttery yet sweet pastries.  Screaming children were not something you were anticipating hearing all night but it made you appreciate the calm of closing up after, only the sounds of you dropping change into the register mixed with Eddie humming under his breath as he swept up graced your tired ears.

“Just leave it alone.  Please?”  An eggshell is tossed into the makeshift scraps bowl you’d set aside nearby, a bit too aggressively for comfort.  A telltale sign that Will should not leave it alone.

“I’m not a baby.  You don’t need to protect me from all the ugly shit that happens.”  He was seventeen, still a baby to you.  But the irritation was apparent in the way that he grabbed the bowl of brownie batter from the counter, glaring at it like it owed him money, however you knew the glare was meant for you.  “I wanna be there for you like you’re there for me.”

Fuck.  That just about ripped your heart in two.  He was such a sweet kid, always wanting to do right by those he cared about.  You bounced the idea back and forth, should you enlighten him or continue shielding him?  Your decision was made for you when the words tumbled from your lips, your subconscious declaring that Will could forever be the baby of the group but he was growing up regardless and you couldn’t hold him to that standard for eternity.  He would eventually have to face uncomfortable situations and hiding them from him completely might do more harm than good, he deserved to be in the know and to feel like an equal rather than some naive child.

“Okay.  Um–yeah, it’s uh, it’s Steve…”

“And…?”

“He just wants to talk.”

Your wooden spoon scraped against the bowl, combining the dry and wet ingredients together, your concentration never leaving the forming batter.  Red velvet.  Will set down the brownie batter he had been inspecting, reaching for a glass dish and proceeding to butter it up generously, the oven already preheated behind him. 

“You haven’t talked to him since…”  He cocks a curious brow at you, momentarily looking up at you from his current task.

“No.  No, I don’t even wanna see him.”  Your admission is quiet, almost ashamed.  “But, um, let’s just, let’s just finish this up.”  The attempt to change the subject fails, the boy dropping his head down to catch your averted eyes.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.”  You tread carefully, ever so cautious of the fact that Will had the ability to catch the slightest hesitation in your tone.

“Really?  Cause I smell bullshit.”  Such a damn bloodhound.

“Why would I want to talk to him?  Didn’t you see what happened?”  Though it was a fair point, you knew you were being avoidant and that it wouldn’t necessarily help anything, only prolong the pain and the awkwardness that would come with finally speaking to him.  It had been weeks which would already create a nasty film between the two of you, something grimy and difficult to just scrub away.

Will offers a sympathetic sigh, and unspoken ‘I know you’re hurting but isolating yourself is only going to hurt more’ and you’re fully aware that he knows that feeling all too well.  “I did see and it was really bad.  But you’re not even gonna hear what he has to say about it?”  His gentle approach was appreciated though it was just the way you talked to each other about these things.  No judgment, only the right questions.

“Will, you have no idea of some of the other things that happened years ago that make this so much worse than it already is.”  You’d regret how whiny you sounded except he’d seen you at your most vulnerable before so it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before.

“Okay, then what do I not know?”  The gooey chocolate batter is poured into the glass dish he had prepared, resembling how your feelings were about to ooze right out of your very being.

“I’m not getting into all that now.”

“No, you don’t get to do that!”  He doesn’t sound unkind but not the friendliest either, slamming the now empty bowl on the counter.  You had it coming, you suppose.  “You’re visibly stressed out, even worse lately, I’m one of the only ones that notices and I’m not even allowed to know the full story?”

“Will.”

There’s no saying no to his expression, blue eyes blinking at you and brows raised in anticipation.  There’s no trace of judgment, just curiosity and worry.  And just as you’re about to dive in head first and reveal all that you tried to withhold, the ring of the doorbell shuts you up just as fast.

The digital numbers on the stove read 10:46 PM, an ungodly hour for anyone to be ringing someone’s doorbell which is why you and Will share the same puzzled look, eyes shifting from each other toward the front door just off the kitchen.  Will doesn’t necessarily live in the most populated area so there’s reason to be concerned over a visitor at such late hours.

“You get it.”  Will rushes out.  “Nose goes!”  A speedy finger touches the tip of his nose, your cheeks flushing in irritation as the doorbell chimes once more.  “Go!”  He whisper yells, gently pushing you toward the door.  A scowl remains on your face as you take your time.  Will would do anything for you.  Except sacrifice himself to the serial killer knocking at his own front door apparently.  You’d never cursed a door so harshly for not having a peephole.

Deep down, you knew it’d more than likely be someone like Jonathan.  It was the logical explanation, he’d lost his key and since he didn’t live here anymore, now residing in an apartment closer to downtown with Nancy, he didn’t have the urgency to replace it.  But Jonathan would usually be pounding on the door, announcing that it was him.  Could it be Joyce?  Doubtful.  She always knew where everything was and keys were the most important out of everything you’d come to learn after she scolded Jonathan for not replacing his old key to the house just in case of an emergency.  Maybe it was Lucas?  He never screamed or announced his presence when showing up.  Couldn’t be Dustin or Mike, they were too rowdy and would never wait this long before jiggling the handle and yelling that they knew Will was home and to ‘answer the damn door’.  It could be El?  But never Max.  Max had a distinct knock, firm and heavy, no bullshit, never rang the doorbell.  The build up was only making you more anxious by the second as you’d reached for the doorknob.  You’d probably be the first one dead in a horror movie, you had no idea why you let Will force you to answer his door.  Regardless, you ever so slightly twisted the knob and the door creaked open, only a sliver of the outside visible as you tried your best to peek around the crack.  And before you could even begin to make out any figure awaiting entry on the porch, a large hand splayed across the wood and pushed it effortlessly, sending you stumbling back as the wind knocked out of you.

“Okay, Byers.  Where’s my dice?  And my game controller?”  

Eddie.

He’d side stepped through the door, forcing his way in obviously only expecting Will but still not realizing you stood before him as he glanced around the house.  

“C’mon you knew I’d be stopping by after work, little Byers.  I’ve been looking for that controller for fucking weeks–”

You could pinpoint the moment realization hit him that he was mouthing off to you and not Will.  His eyes seemed to almost soften.  Pupils dilating so suddenly.  And then he was speechless, mouth opening and closing but words never spilling out.  Then it hit you that you probably looked ridiculous in the Mickey Mouse apron you had been strutting around in, various types of batter smeared on your cheeks and chin, maybe some on your nose too but you couldn’t remember.  And god, you were wearing your fuzzy pajama pants littered with pumpkins and bats finished off with some fuzzy socks that were striped like candy corn.

Eddie had never wanted to fall to his knees for someone so badly in his life.

He’d never seen you like this before.

Tacky.

In the most adorable way.

“I–um, I was looking for–”

“Will?”  You finish for him, desperately trying to pull our eyes away from him but finding it impossible.  And then you realized what he was wearing which only spurred on your need to drink him in.  A black Metallica shirt cropped just above his happy trail, sleeves cut off to display his tattooed arms and black sweats that hung just right on his hips complete with a pair of black converse on his feet.  For a second you wondered how he wasn’t shivering.  You could only hope that he wouldn’t notice your drooling,  praying that the dim lighting would cast enough shadows over your face that any fondness you were displaying would be hidden.

“Y-yeah.”  He swallows, fingers tangling in a few of his curls before resting back at his side, keys dangling in his other hand.

“Kitchen.”  You mumble, pointing.

He nods, the silence taunting you both as you trail behind him into the kitchen.  Will is already staring wide eyed as you enter, looking between you with something amusing behind his expression.  And in that moment the awkwardness melts off of Eddie, his usual cocky self returning.

“Dice?  Controller?  Man, I told you I was gonna come by–”

“I forgot but I have both–”

“Oh, you forgot?”  A mischievous grin overtakes Eddie’s face, Will playing along with it as they both brace their palms flat against the kitchen island, staring at each other instantly but with playful intention.

“Ed, don’t do this.”  Will warns, unable to maintain a serious face, corners of his lips pulling despite his best efforts.

“Oh, I have to.”

Eddie fakes him out, body about to move to the right but instead quickly changing to the left to which Will screeches in mock fear, rushing to the other end of the kitchen.  Any time Will goes to make a move, Eddie is seconds quicker than him.  When Will tries to make his big escape he’s instantly caught in a chokehold, the metalhead’s arm secured around him as he ruffles his hair with a fist, the classic noogie.  Will’s laughter is contagious, a few ‘stops’ littered throughout and you can’t help but join and giggle as you watch the scene play out before you.

“Dice?”  Eddie halts his movements to ask, side eyeing the boy.

“On the desk–in–in my room.”  He answers out of breath, clutching onto Eddie’s forearm.

Eddie continues his torture on Will, rough housing a little more before stopping once again.

“Controller?”

“Coffee table!  Are we done?!”

“Nope.”  A full on wrestling match takes place in the small confines of the kitchen, both boys stumbling around and bumping into cabinets.

It was weird.  You knew Eddie and Will were pretty close but you’d never seen them like this and maybe it's because you refused to linger in a room long enough if Eddie was there.  Now you didn’t really have the urge to leave.  All you could do was watch.  Eddie’s dramatics flared as he cackled in Will’s face, Will telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ between gasps for air.

“Tap out.”  Eddie demands.

“No!”

“Tap.  Out.”

At some point you hadn’t even paid attention to the way Will hesitated in surrendering, you were too caught up in the way Eddie’s already cropped shirt rode up in the position he was in, his waist looking all too enticing, lower back on full display however you refrained from trailing your eyes up his spine.

Stop it.

“Okay, I tap out!”  Will smacks his hand against Eddie’s forearm that was secured around him, instantly granted relief after saying the magic words.

“Eddie The Banished reigns supreme.”  He pumps his fist in the air in triumph, face scrunched in victory.

You roll your eyes but in all honesty, it’s not out of pure annoyance just this once.  It feels more like when a friend does something stupid and all you can feel is warmth flush through your body and your initial reaction comes naturally.  Effortlessly.

“Okay, now get your precious things and go.”  Will points at the door, sass overtaking every movement, the playful energy still buzzing between them.

A pang in your heart says don’t go.  But you remain quiet as a mouse in the corner between the sink and the microwave.  You don’t mean that.  You try to bargain with yourself.  Seeing him in this light does not excuse his past no matter how much of an ache you feel in your chest.  The good kind.  

“Okay, okay.”  Eddie sighs, catching his breath, a grin still stretched across his face.  “Hey, what the fuck happened here?”  He stops in his tracks, gesturing to the atrocity that has become every surface of the kitchen.  Batter and dough of all kinds smeared along the countertops, eggshells discarded along with balled up foil on Will’s side of the mess, and of course the towering bowls just about ready to tumble out of the sink, filled with suds, wooden spoons and whisks.  And of course the bag of chocolate chips that had spilled, sprinkled across the surface, some even dismissed on the floor, there was even some kind of dough caked onto the handle of the fridge.

“We’re having a bake sale.”  You break your prolonged silence from the corner, mouth upturned in almost a smirk but not quite, it’s more like you’re holding in a laugh.  At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s head snaps in your direction, molten chocolate eyes landing on you in such a way that has your breath hitching.

“A bake sale?”  He questions, doubt written across his handsome features, his tone hinting at the fact that he knows you’re bullshitting him.

“Mhm.”

“Aren’t you like–aren’t you bad at baking?”  

How does he know that?  

Will’s eyes widen and he sucks in the most subtle breath.  That’s how.

“Can’t I be bad at something but also still try?”  You argue.

“I dunno, can you?”  It’s almost mean, almost.  But it doesn’t feel the same as when he’s usually ridiculing you.  The dimple peeking out at you provides evidence of an opposite intention.  He’s teasing but not to be a dick, unless you were reading him wrong.  And there was very little chance that you were since the past few weeks at work, he had almost left you alone all together save for a few questions here and there and maybe a few bad jokes.  But other than that he was solely a coworker who you held no personal ties to.

“Well that’s how you learn.  You keep trying until you get it.  So far nothing has burned and the batter tastes good–try it.”  You don’t know what you’re trying to prove but your body had already been on autopilot, it’s sole mission to keep him from leaving.  A wooden spoon coated in red velvet cake batter is offered to him, you twirling it to keep it from dripping everywhere.  Eddie glances from you to the spoon a few times rather quickly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to psych him out and tell him to go to hell.  In a way he wishes you would just so he knows he isn’t dreaming.  He makes his way around the island, standing next to you, not too close but just close enough that he can steal the spoon from you, his tongue licking up the back of it.  The sight is strangely erotic.

“Not bad.”  He hums, continuing until the spoon is halfway clean.  You want to mention that he’ll risk getting sick from eating too much, raw eggs aren’t exactly ideal to eat even if disguised as a delicious batter, but that would show that you care.  Which you don’t.

“What am I missing?”  Will addresses the elephant in the room, containing a smile that might be too big for his face if he were to let it take over.

“What?”  You ask, head tilted in a way that has Eddie’s eyes lingering for a moment before turning his head and copying your actions, tongue still committed to the spoon, licking up every ounce of sweetness.

“Are we–did we–end up in a parallel universe?  Why aren’t you threatening to kick his ass?”  He points an accusatory finger at you.  “And why aren’t you making snarky comments?”  He points to Eddie who is still too busy licking any remnants of the mixture.

All you can offer is a casual shrug before snatching the utensil right from Eddie’s hand, tossing it into the overflowing sink.  “I’ll kick your ass if you were even going to think about double dipping that spoon in my bowl.”  You warn, a touch mean.  “There, are you happy?”  You look to Will for approval, skepticism still painted all over his face, his arms crossed in uncertainty.

“I wasn’t done.”  Eddie frowns, ignoring your threat to instead dip a daring finger into the bowl of artificial red.

“Hey!”  Both you and Will begin to reprimand him.

“Just one more–”  He doesn’t finish his thought as you grab the bowl, holding it behind your back.

“Say I’m good at baking.  Both of you.”

Eddie and Will look to each other in perplexity.  Will can’t comprehend the sudden playfulness you have for both him and Eddie.  Usually this would end up in an argument, one saying something a bit too offensive for the other’s taste and from there it would spiral.  Instead neither party is engaged in conflict but rather play and it’s not unwelcome, just…weird.

“Excuse you?”  Eddie takes the bait.

“The two of you seem to talk trash about my baking skills behind my back but I didn’t see you complaining two seconds ago while you salivated all over the spoon.”

You only receive a scoff in response, Eddie crossing his arms as if to appear more intimidating.  He only looks more like a misunderstood teddy bear.

“Say it.”

“Anyone can make cake out of a box.”  He retaliates, Will releasing a small gasp as he hides his smile under his hand.

“Oh, okay.  I’d love to see you out of all people bake a cake.”  You challenge him.

“This is more like it.”  Will mumbles, though he knows this is not at all the usual bickering that happens between you.

“Oh, you want me to out-Betty Crocker you?”  Eddie threatens.

“You can try.”  You shrug, setting your bowl back onto the counter.

“No, no.  I will.”

“Guys it’s literally cake from a box.”  Will intervenes.

And so started the greatest bake off the Byers’ kitchen has ever seen.  

–

“Okay, wait.  I have a grievance with this competition.”  Eddie speaks up, abandoning an uncracked egg on the countertop only for it to roll off and crack at his feet.  “Damn.”

“What’s the matter now?”  Will asks in mock annoyance.  Every other minute Eddie had a near microscopic complaint but it only entertained you.  Curses at wrong measurements, that his bowl wasn’t as pretty as the others, or that he wanted the whisk Will was using.

“Why don’t I get matching pants?”

You glance down at your Halloween themed pajama pants and then to Will’s.  They were a steal at Target and you couldn’t resist, knowing Will would love them as much as you did.  That, and every year you bought a matching pair for both fall and christmas.  You can’t help but feel a huge smile pull at your lips, the sight of Eddie pouting with his hands on his hips is all too endearing.

“For one, you weren’t even invited to this sleepover.”  You sass, pouring your newly mixed chocolate cake batter into its pan.  “And two, this is our thing.”  You gesture between you and Will standing a few feet next to you, Eddie directly across the island sporting an even bigger frown.

“Yeah, you kinda crashed our party.”  Will adds, snickering with you.

“Wow.  I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that and instead you pledged your undying loyalty to me.”  Always a drama queen.  “Whoa–wait, wait!  How are you already done I haven’t even–”  He quickly realizes you’re already setting your masterpiece in the oven while his bowl still contains both dry and wet ingredients, unmixed.

“Guess we can already tell who’s gonna ‘out-Betty Crocker’ who.”  You smirk.

“Oh, hell no.”  He mutters under his breath, suddenly focused on mixing.

While Eddie just about buries his head in the bowl, Will graces you with a look.  A knowing look.  You claim innocence with a lift of your brow but you both know.  You’re just too ignorant right now to acknowledge it.

–

Seeing Eddie Munson dancing and screaming to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift was something you could never even fathom and yet here he was.  Unapologetically singing every word and putting on one giant show with Will, singing into random kitchen utensils while the speaker blared the song.  He knew every word.  You didn’t dare interrupt the choreography they had come up with on the spot, watching from your comfortable perch on the stool at the counter.  

Will sounded like a dying animal and it occasionally had you reaching up to cover your ears but your smile never faltered.  And Eddie was unstoppable.  He didn’t sound that bad though he was shouting along with Will at the top of his lungs so you figure if he actually tried he would sound angelic.  Once the song reaches the bridge you can’t help but drown in your own laughter, both of them strutting in between where the living room meets the kitchen as if it were their own personal runway.

Your eyes open, nearly crying only to find Eddie just feet away extending his ‘microphone’ to you with a raised brow and a cocky grin.  Your immediate reaction is to shake your head, your nerves instantly on edge at the mere idea of holding any kind of attention.

“C’mon, you’re gonna miss the bridge again!”  Eddie waves you over in a rush.  You don’t budge, a flash of worry washing over you and it seems that it was written all over your face.  “C’mon Roadkill, don’t make us finish off without ya.”  He half jokes, Will still screeching like a banshee behind him.  “Do it for little Byers.”  He cocks his head toward the boy, pleading eyes begging you to change your mind.

Slowly, you emerge from your comfy perch, snatching up your own ‘microphone’ with a bashful gleam in your eyes.  Just in time for the bridge again, you strut toward Will who excitedly starts jumping and nodding at your participation. 

“I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you!”  You yell in each other’s faces, wheezing as you continue dancing–if you could even call it dancing.  Your confidence skyrocketed.  Turning toward Eddie, you sing to each other the last line of the bridge.

“And I screamed for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard!”

Chests heaving and mouths hung open, his eyes swallow you whole, dark honey slowly pulling you under.  Your first instinct is that you should run but he feels too much like home to ever willingly leave.  If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right to stare into pools of deep amber?

~end~

Author's Note: okay if you're reading this TY SO MUCH. The scene where reader is kinda admiring eddie at work, i had 1 step forward 3 steps back by olivia rodrigo playing along with it for me and rather than something super sad, it's kind of the opposite in this case as theyre coming out of their angsty era so if you just listen to that and imagine her admiring him with a little content smile on his face as he works it makes me want to SCREAM lmk if it does the same for you ok BYE <3

Prev |

Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface @rustboxstarr @3rd-conchord @eddiessteady @lightcommastix @kittydeadbones @shadows-echoes @str4ngerthingsslut @winchester-angel @elegantkoalapaper

[thirdeyeopen]

You're not supposed to be here

It was a statement made in the same cadence as "it was cloudy today" or maybe "there was a sale on figs at the supermarket". Matter of fact. Informative. If it had been accusatory, it might have made sense to her more quickly.

As it was, it took her too long to realize that she was being spoken to.

These things, the witnessing, it was usually a viewer-only type of thing. Watching through someone else's eyes, feeling through their skin, drowning in their memories as they grasp the last moments of their life with their fingernails. She liked to think (these days) that some part of them could feel her there, taking in all that they are - were - and holding it close. None of them had ever given any indication that they felt her, or even knew she existed. There was prayer of course, sometimes. Not for her though, not from them.

This was taking longer than usual, though. She didn't always get to see what happened before the end.

She turned her head, surprised all over again that she had made the decision herself, that the body that was not hers had followed her instruction. The room was cold, her extremities felt numb with it. The body's extremities. No? Hers. She flexed her icy fingers to be sure. Everything else fell into place. A cave or- no, a freezer of some kind. It felt, more than looked, industrial. Crafted. Her breath came out in a white cloud, and it forced her to recognize that she was breathing, that she needed to breathe. The inhale felt like needles in her chest.

Turning the whole body now, taking in the room. Shelves against the walls, boxes on the shelves, meticulously hand-labeled with dates and batch numbers, though she couldn't guess at the content.

No- yes, she could. Food, but not food. Something was wrong with it? Something-

A scrape echoed through the frosted silence, and she turned back to where she'd been facing originally to find a door in the freezer. Open just a crack, with inky blackness beyond.

Oh Nin. You're not supposed to be here.

There was a sensation of hands clapping in front of her face and she woke up gasping, fingers still numb from the cold.

[cthulhubert]

The cheapest I usually find bacon near me these days is 4 to 5$ a pound (usually gotta spring for the 3 pound package too).

Pork belly at Costco has stayed steady at 3.50$, and sometimes goes on sale for 3.00. You do have to buy a whole belly though, at least 10 pounds.

A 1 kilo bag of the curing salts was 15$ or so (I almost called it pink salt, but that means the Himalayan sourced sodium chloride now). I also use it for corned beef. I use like 20 grams at a time so I'm just over half way through it after several years.

Wood chips for smoking are cheap too.

So basically, home made bacon saves me a lot of money asterisk. (Asterisk: because I already own commercial grade/size cambro type containers and the spare fridge space to cure it in, and a temperature controlled smoker, and a chest freezer to keep the extra.)

Though bacon does have a big thing going for it in terms of "save money by making it at home." Even the worst I've fucked it up—and I messed up a lot of batches: mixes of uneven curing and overcooking—was still edible, tasty even. Never had to toss forty smackers of meat because I biffed something.

(On the other other hand, I think the nitrite levels in home cured stuff is higher because commercial operations have better control over curing and smoking to compensate.)

[contentment-of-cats]

I’ve been off of Tumblr for a couple of months, but wanted to say congratulations on your remission!

I happened to catch your post about how much you love having a chest freezer and that it helps you to be able to cook in batches. What kinds of meals do you like to make from week to week?

Hi there!

Thanks for the good wishes. :)

I use the chest mostly to store ingredients, like meat, potatoes, and veg. My favorites are large batches of jambalaya and red beans and rice, Irish stew, potstickers, all kinds of dumplings, cha siu, Hungarian lamb stew, mashed red potatoes, bone broth, pot pie filling, sausage with peppers and onions. I also pre-cook ingredients like trinity, mirepoix, caramelized onions, ham with onions and peppers (fast Denver omelet) and a mix of onions, red peppers, mushrooms, and fire roasted tomatoes - pureed it makes a great pizza sauce. I can also stock up on stuff like butter, grab quantity sales and freeze for later. Baking and bread also freeze well.

It has not, in the time it's been here, bumped up my electricity bill by more than $10 per month. A 3.5 is not as expensive as getting a new fridge - which I was trying to avoid. This one was $115 on sale versus a new fridge with more freezer capacity being over $1500!

It's been a boon, honestly. There are days when I am wiped out, and being able to pull something good out of the freezer and heat it up helps so much.

[princesspatches21]

Man, I've been having fun making meals this week. Tonight was homemade pizza. The crust was made using my bread machine. The steak was on sale for 30% off 14.00. Breakfast sausage from the depths of our chest freezer then the onions, mushrooms, and spinach were cooked in the fat from the steak.

[kajtekmakesthings]

Building a better hi-viz vest:

I wear a hi-viz vest 5 days a week for something like 4 months every year. They're mandatory for the entirety of the Bard on the Beach build and strike, which means I live in the thing through rainy early spring, hot late spring/early summer, and the rapid shift from warm and dry September to rainy and cold October.

My first Bard season, I had a cheap mesh one. It was cool on hot days, but otherwise sucked. The two pockets were as perforated as the rest of it and barely usable because any weight in them stretched the whole vest uncomfortably. When I left it in my cubby with a snack wrapper in the pocket and a mouse chewed right through the fabric, I didn't even bother patching the hole. It wasn't worth the effort.

This past season, I picked up a sturdier surveyor's vest with a ton of pockets.

I loved the general layout, and having a heavier garment that could handle carrying a good amount of snacks, tools, and other essentials without becoming uncomfortable was worth sacrificing ventilation. I was really happy for the first month, and still liked it well enough by late fall.

Minor annoyances piled up over the season: the velcro in the small chest pockets scraped my hands raw if I had to reach into them too often; the radio pocket's strap was bulky and loose; the pen pocket had poorly-sized slots and I dropped things every time I leaned forward; the cheap, sloppy construction failed to hold up to hundreds of hours of outdoor wear. It was clear that this vest was a decent facsimile of a well-designed, well-made work vest, but what I actually wanted was the real thing.

So I've started making my own. I'm using the almost-good-enough surveyor's vest as a starting point, redesigning the features that don't work, and building the whole thing out of much better materials, with better techniques.

This is my first time self-drafting a pattern. I'm glad I started with an incredibly simple garment and an existing shape I could copy. It's been challenging and fun just getting the patterning done.

I started by copying the surveyor's vest's two main shapes (rear panel and front panel) onto some kraft paper I'd saved from a parcel.

The weird tabs on the side and the extra rectangles on the bottom are fold-over lining segments I'd planned to use to reinforce high-wear areas of the interior with the heavier exterior fabric. I'm currently leaning towards cutting them off and sewing them to the lining before sandwiching the layers together, as I suspect the cleaner fold-over seams aren't worth all the extra work. We'll see how they make it into the final product.

For fabric, I grabbed:

Black bull denim for the exterior (this is a new-to-me weave that uses a heavier 3-to-1 twill weave than regular denim, and is dyed a uniform colour instead of having a dyed warp and white weft)

Blue linen for the lining (I splurged on a 100% flax handkerchief linen, since at least some of the lining will be sitting against bare skin on really hot days)

Fluorescent yellow waterproof nylon for the fluorescent component of the hi-viz stripes (I don't care about the waterproofing, but this type of nylon is what you get in work rain pants and jackets, and it's generally easy to keep clean and has good abrasion resistance)

2" wide Iron-on 3M reflective striping for the retroreflective component of the hi-viz stripes

This is also the first time I've had to follow federal safety regulations while designing a project. I'm using this guide to make sure I'm getting the hi-viz components right:

I'm also generally sticking to the design on the original surveyor's vest, since I know it conforms to the relevant standards.

While I was buying fabric, I found a bunch of gridded freezer paper in the sale bin for $1/dozen sheets. I grabbed it after a cursory google turned up a bunch of folks talking about how great it is for pattern-making.

I transferred my original rough patterns from the kraft paper to the freezer paper, using the grid to tidy things up and make them symmetrical.

The cool thing about freezer paper (and butcher paper, which I'm pretty sure is the same thing) is that it has a plastic coating on one side. You can draw on the other side, cut out a pattern, and then place it plastic-side-down on your fabric and iron over it. The heat melts the plastic just enough to have it stick gently to your fabric.

This makes it much easier to cut pattern pieces out of the fabric, because the pattern can't shift around and you don't get the distortion that can come with pinning. I switched to using a rotary cutter to cut out patttern shapes earlier this year (thanks, quilting!), and that plays very well with the freezer paper because my quilting ruler lays flat over it without being thrown off my pins.

I was able to measure and cut a clean and even seam allowance all around the pattern and then peel off the freezer paper without leaving any residue behind. It's reusable (I've already used the front panel piece twice), and honestly feels like a magic trick.

I'm now using it to pattern all of the pockets for the two front panels.

That's the next big chunk of the project, with a planned 4 pockets on the left side and 3 on the right. I'll be lining all of them for comfort and durability, and incorporating the fluorescent and reflective stripes directly into their construction.

So far, this is a fun and challenging off-season project. I'm really glad I don't actually need to use it until mid-March. The lack of deadline means that I can let myself get fully absorbed in the process and all of the things I'm experimenting with as I slowly pull it together.

[nobedofroses]

December 13th

pairing: Marcus Moreno x reader

warnings: fluff

words: 650

a/n: getting a little out of hand with a school bake sale Hot chocolate/baking/dancing prompt from @toomanystoriessolittletime's winter writing challenge ❄️

more Marcus, Full List

🌨️🌨️🌨️

One of Missy’s class’ last hurrahs before winter break was holding a bake sale to raise money for… something. Probably new music stands or a football stadium or something like that. You didn’t really remember because as soon as the words, “bake sale” were out of Missy’s mouth, your focus jumped to strategy and the rest of her sentence was lost in a swirl of brownies, cookies, and popcorn balls. 

In the week preceding the sale, you made multiple grocery trips as each new idea was solidified. Everything together, you were making three kinds of cookies, two kinds of brownies, winter-themed popcorn balls, and a couple batches of macarons just to elevate things a little bit. 

Missy was pretty much just allowed to help with the scooping and decorating (and licking the bowl of course) and that was fine with her. Marcus, after nearly measuring out a tablespoon of baking soda instead of a teaspoon, was not allowed to help with anything. The only time he was allowed in the kitchen was when he got to try the wonky leftover-dough cookie that seemed to be a part of every batch. 

It was going pretty well, despite Marcus’ sulking, but you were somewhat behind. Missy had gone to sleep, so you had to scoop things yourself which meant less time to do things while the batch in the oven baked. 

At 11:00pm, Marcus came gingerly into the kitchen, “How are you doing, angel?” 

“I’m good, it’s fine. The macarons are resting and the popcorn is made and one of the cookies and two of the brownies— or was it two of the cookies and one of the brownies…?” you trailed off, hurrying over to the boxes of completed treats to count them. 

Marcus, sensing your impending spiral, came over and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “Sweetheart, I know you love doing this, and you’re doing a great job, but this is supposed to be fun, right? I mean really, shouldn’t something like this be time for you and Missy to spend together? And maybe even your husband if he needs to remember his glasses before trying to bake?” 

You couldn’t help but melt back into his arms as he talked, the rumble of his chest soothing you instantly, “It’s just— I love baking—”

“I know.”

“And I want to help Missy’s school—”

“I know.”

“And—” 

“Angel, everything you’re saying is great, but need I remind you that you also have a full time job? I mean, if you wanna turn baking into something more intense than a hobby, I’d totally support you. But now, right now, you don’t need to spend up baking seven different things when they only asked if you could bring a dozen cookies,” came his gentle but firm reminder. 

“They only asked for a dozen?” you asked incredulously, turning in his arms to face him. 

“Yes, sweetheart, because the 23 other kids in her class will also bring something to sell, and that right there is nearly 300. Hell, they might turn you away with your, what, 150 all on your own?” Marcus guessed. 

“161…” you murmured. 

“You’re so ridiculously sweet, angel,” Marcus said with a laugh. “But let’s just finish up the batch that’s in the oven, and put everything else in the freezer. You need to get to bed. We both do.” 

The little look in Marcus’ eye was enough to make you realize what he meant, and remember what you typically did on Thursday nights. 

“Oh! Yeah, good idea, we can bake these next week for us. Um, let me just put that away, if you can load the dishwasher?” you were already out of Marcus’ arms, grabbing the containers you had that could hold so much scooped dough. “And then bed.” 

“And then bed.” Marcus agreed, and the two of you had that kitchen cleaned up in record time.

🌨️🌨️🌨️

[lovedtogekiss]

When you awaken, the room is dark, lit only by the gleam of the Fountain and something… more. Though it calls to you, begging for you to return home, you are distracted by the larger, grander thing in the room.

Pink and yellow spotlights dart around, attached to a body silhouetted by a gentle, rainbow glow.

"IS IT COLD IN HERE, OR IS IT JUST ME?" The spotlights say, and you go still.

You recognize that voice.

And what you feel…

It is fear, and it is hope, and it is horror, and it is love, love, love, love.

Love for the man with the sky-high dreams, the award-losing smile that'd won your heart. Longing for the days before, when you'd held him in your arms, back in the adlit days of 1996.

You love him like you'd never lost him. Like he'd never picked up the phone, like he'd never 'died' all those years ago, like he'd never abandoned you to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart.

♤

"Spamton… please, won't you come home?" They plead, taking him by the hand. A pair of engagement rings sit on the table beside them, simplistic in their beauty.

Cam's is a simple, silver band with a jewel placed snugly upon the top. No diamonds nor opals were available to the denizens of the dark, so Cam made do with a shaped piece of glass.

Spamton's is a band of rose gold with flowers engraved on the outside edge, camellias and lilies carved with a careful hand.

He takes one, but does not reply.

♤

It warms you from the inside, this love. A bitter contrast to the snowstorm raging around you, digging daggers into your silicone and threatening to tear you apart. The ice swirls about, gathering strength for the spell your jailer prepares to cast.

Like frost over grass comes the realization that the spell is meant for him.

♤

They sit in their shop, clutching a ring close to their chest. Their grief has changed it; the glass that was once in the shape of a jewel has gone smooth, circular. It has grown foggy and dark, and a crack stretches across its surface.

And still, they pour their hurt into it, bent over and clutching the remains of a broken love as they cry. Eventually, the tears will evaporate away on the floor, returning to the Fountain that created them.

The bell jingles, and blue light fills the empty shop. Vivi approaches her friend, placing a hand on their shoulder.

"It's closing time, Cam. Let's go home." She coos, voice soft as a caress to their grief-stricken heart.

Wearily, Cam nods, allowing Vivi to pull them to their feet. They leave the ring behind in a darkened shop, along with all the memories it contains.

Neither of them notice the man in the nearby dumpster, the ring on his finger growing jagged spikes to match his embittered heart. After all, one does not go searching for the dead.

♤

The Lightner's magic pulls at you, and you scream. She has no interest in your safety or well-being, only your power, and she leaves you trapped in the storm.

Every flake that hits your body tears through the metaphysical, ripping you apart with icy claws, taking what little you have away to power the Lightner's spells. It hurts.

You cry out, you scream, but there is nobody left to hear you.

♤

"May I interest you in a FreezeRing?"

Her Light calls out and blinds them, taking hold of their Darkness and twisting it to her desires. It hollows them out, and they are but a tool, a vehicle for the Lightner's desires.

Cam does not recognize the words they are saying, and does not realize that they've offered her their ring, the last thing they have of Him. Cam does not notice the little red spot beside her, commanding her, controlling her.

They spit out a random number, too preoccupied with gazing into her Light to concentrate on the art of the sale. Her focus is on them and they bask in it, unable to do anything else as their sun-choked mind fills with a static haze.

The Lightners converse with each other, but to Cam, it comes out as nothing but garbage noise.

And then, suddenly, it is cold.

♤

You only catch a glimpse of his terrified face through the glass before the wind picks up and it all

goes

white.

"HOLY CUNGADERO!"

and that was my piece for the @addisonzine !!

its been awhile since i wrote this; between working in the character limit, changes in style, and new memories and context, theres a lot id probably change if i could do this again.

but it was a lot of fun to work on this with everyone, and im incredibly proud of the work that we did!

leftover sales are open now, be sure to grab something before all the stock runs out!

also this was formatted on my tiny ass phone screen so sorry if it looks weird