#evil steve-o

[signedwill]

evil-o

[c-aqu]

Man i love jimmy pop

[iron-fifty-nine]

have one of my all-time favorite jackass skits

[tyanis]

Poll: Which male Resident Evil character is most likely to follow a will-o-wisp into a haunted forest?

I get it.

Lights are pretty. And curiosity gets the best of all of us from time to time.

But most of us know not to follow suspicious lights or ghostly women into a dark forest. However, it seems like at least one of these guys didn't get the memo...

And welcome back to Ethan who has finally returned from his relaxing vacation just as Hunk leaves on his. Taking Hunk's place today is Kevin. Say hi to Kevin everyone!

"Winner" goes on to face the "winner" of the female poll so make sure to vote in both!

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, insecure eddie makes an appearance, eddie’s pov, tons of kissing, drug use (weed), grinding/dry humping and a whole lot of cheese, what can i say? (it’s a given with these two)

part four | part six

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4.9k

a/n: damn this was a long time coming. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this writing slump. also big shoutout to @strangerstilinski for gifting me that one porno title. but i really need to give the biggest thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova ! august, you have truly helped me improve my writing so much over the past year, and i hope you know how much i love and appreciate you. this chapter is dedicated to you boo xx.

“You cannot be serious, sweetheart,” Eddie deadpans, looking between you and the VHS tape clutched between his fingers.

You feel your face warm, his overly exaggerated tone causing another customer in the horror section to give you both a sideways glance.

“As a heart attack,” you mumble, grabbing a copy of Children of the Corn to read the back cover in order to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Never seen Alien, she says…” he huffs under his breath, “It’s a classic!”

When you finally dare to peek up at him under your lashes, he’s giving you a look of utter disapproval that wavers on the edge of teasing.

“Sci-Fi isn’t really my thing,” you shrug, putting the tape back and reaching for another.

“But Evil Dead is?” he muses, leaning forward over your shoulder to glance at the cover art.

The background is dark, with two grotesque-like hands reaching into the frame and toward a bloodied Bruce Campbell holding a chainsaw above his head. When Eddie leans in closer to get a better look, the tips of his fingers brush against your own in the process. The gentle touch sends your body into overdrive and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest from the proximity.

“Well…what about this one?” you ask, stepping out of his embrace to head further down the aisle, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks as you nearly stumble. Damn heels.

“I would argue that this is a classic.”

But Eddie just slips in behind you again, resting a hand on your hip while you hold a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in your hands.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, holding back a snicker as you gasp in mock offense.

“You doubt my judgment?”

“Of course not,” he insists with a small snort. “But…maybe you have a thing for guys who wield chainsaws.”

You catch the sly grin that stretches across his lips out of the corner of your eye, a loud laugh puffing out from his chest when you playfully smack his shoulder. Eddie grabs the tape from you, leaning in a little closer until his lips brush against your ear.

And he doesn’t miss the subtle hitch of your breath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…” he cheekily assures, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When you throw a playful glare his way, he merely winks in response. Then he turns on his heel to stride back toward the front counter, snagging a box of Reese’s Pieces on his way. You fumble a step behind him before glancing up.

The employee manning the counter is someone you know all too well.

His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, the ends brushing against his forehead and falling into his eyes. But he’s still just as handsome, if not annoyingly so. And when Eddie sets the tapes on the counter, Steve barely spares him a passing glance. His brown eyes quickly settle on you as his lips pull up into a lazy grin.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks, the cadence of his voice is low but filled with a sticky sweetness that has your cheeks warming.

And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was flirting with you.

“O-Oh, I, uh— ”

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts in, his voice a little strained. “We found everything just fine, man.”

Steve gives you another soft grin as he snaps open the first case, a small snort leaving his nose.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the gore fest type.”

But that slight hint of disbelief in his tone has you wanting to shrink in on yourself.

“Then you don’t know her very well,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Only, his snide comment isn’t as quiet as he initially intended.

But Steve says nothing, just clears his throat and runs a hand through his chestnut locks before sliding the movies across the counter. The clacking of the keyboard fills the uncomfortable silence as you tug at the worn vinyl on the counter.

“That’ll be $12.35.”

You can feel Eddie tense beside you.

“I thought the movies were 2 for $4 tonight?” you chime in softly, confusion scrunching your brows together.

Steve’s lip quirks up in a slight smirk as he glances between you and Eddie.

“Well, Munson here has racked up quite a lot of late fees…” he trails before whistling. The flash of amusement in his eyes has Eddie’s narrowing in warning.

But that look only seems to encourage him.

“Looks like we’ve got Erotic Night of the Living Dead, returned three days late. Munch Masters Vol. I…”, Steve pauses to scroll further down the list. “…and Vol. II, that was a week late.”

He flashes Eddie a condescending grin, “Must’ve really liked that one, huh?”

But before Steve can embarrass him further, Eddie fishes out his wallet and slams a couple bills down onto the counter. He grabs the tapes, tucking them under his arm and slips his hand in yours. The boy all but pulls you out of the store, his chin tucked toward his chest to try and hide the flames licking his cheeks.

Despite his ever growing irritation—fueled by the embarrassment of what just transpired—he still opens the door and helps you into the van.

Ever the gentleman.

“Harrington’s got some nerve,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he slides into the driver's seat. “With his nice smile and his stupid hair…” His voice drips with condescension as he slams the driver's door shut behind him.

“Embarrassing me is one thing. But blatantly flirting with my girl, right in front of me—like I wasn't even there?! That’s low even for him.”

Eddie doesn’t even realize what he just let slip, too busy fumbling to stick the key into the ignition.

A beat passes before you manage to gather the courage to speak, the jingling of keys echoing in your ears.

“Your girl?” you ask carefully, heart lodged in your throat.

Eddie’s whole body tenses, taking his time in setting the tapes down on the dashboard before finally turning to face you.

“Well…I, uh, shit,” he whispers, splotches of red beginning to creep up his neck while he exhales sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask you in a proper, more romantic way—”

You suddenly turn in your seat, your grip on his collar firm while your lips manage to cut him off with a surprised hmph.

But he’s quick to recover, mouth molding over yours with an intensity that would make your knees buckle if you were still standing. And he keeps kissing you, slowly, deeply…until the windows begin to fog up from the heat of your mingling breaths.

“I don’t need romantic, Eddie,” you manage when he pulls away for some much needed air, your nose nudges against his own before you press another gentle kiss to his swollen lips. “Just you.”

And his answering grin is all the reassurance you need.

“Welcome to my castle,” Eddie says, gesturing toward the pale blue trailer with a tentative smile.

He barely let you push open the passenger door before he was running around the front of the van, almost dropping the VHS tapes tucked under his arm in the process. But the soft giggle you let slip when he bows and offers you his hand had his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps your fingers intertwined as you walk alongside him to the door. The uneven gravel makes the otherwise short distance in your heels a little more treacherous than normal. But Eddie is more than willing to catch you at the slightest hint of a wobble in your step.

The night air is far more frigid than either of you anticipated, and the shiver that ripples through you has him nearly dropping the keys in his rush to open the front door. He curses softly, breathing out a sigh of relief when the door finally swings open.

“Ladies first,” he grins, gesturing you forward.

Once you're both safely inside Eddie drops the keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and switching on lights as he goes. He inwardly cringes when he spots the fast food wrappers scattered across the counter and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

What a great first impression, Munson.

But when he remembers the current state of his bedroom, his face pales.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before motioning behind him with his thumb. “Grab a new shirt, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Eddie waits until you’ve taken a seat on the sofa before starting down the hall. He’s frantic when he bursts through his bedroom door, immediately eyeing the pile of clothes strewn across his unmade bed. A disaster he left in the wake of trying to pull together a last minute Halloween costume.

He found the orange shirt that’s currently adorning your frame in the very back of his closet, a lost relic from the one time Wayne had managed to take him hunting. Eddie had fallen asleep up in the deer stand and almost shot a crossbow through his boot, and Wayne had vowed never again.

He had grabbed a discarded sharpie off his nightstand, the cap tucked between his teeth as he scribbled This is my Halloween costume across the front in his signature messy scrawl. While it wasn’t his most creative idea to date, it was either this or the god awful pirate costume he’d been suckered into a few years back. That most definitely did not fit him anymore.

Eddie scoops up an armful of clothes, tossing them onto the already cluttered floor of his closet. His movements are erratic, nearly tripping over one of his amps in the process. While Eddie isn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, he is unable to disguise the way his hands are trembling.

He’s nervous, so fucking nervous.

And when he dares to peek out of his room and down the hall, he immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Because there you are, sitting on his couch, wearing his shirt. Looking almost heaven sent, your eyes alight with wonder as you take in the collection of hats and mugs adorning the walls.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, man,” he mumbles to himself, dropping to his knees to shove more of the remaining clutter under his bed.

Once he returns to his feet, he slips his jacket off his shoulders and tosses it over the back of the chair before rifling through the top drawer of his dresser for a new shirt. Despite what a majority of the town believed, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was no stranger to the sins of the flesh. He’d lost his virginity his first senior year in the back of his van to band geek, Polly O’Donnell.

Which was probably why her mom had failed him two years in a row. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

But even in that moment, Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous.

Maybe, it was because he didn’t harbor the same feelings for Polly that he did for you. Or perhaps the real reason was that he just didn’t trust people or their intentions. His tumultuous upbringing and treatment by his peers was testament enough of that. So Eddie kept most people at arm's length, not allowing them to see past his scary façade.

It was safer that way.

But one look from you was enough to have his carefully crafted walls crumbling down, laid to rubble beneath his feet.

And that’s the thing that scared him the most. That he would willingly throw himself (and his heart) into the crossfire if it meant you would continue to look at him like that.

Man, he had it bad.

He huffs out a breath, grabbing the first unwrinkled shirt that he can find and pulling it over his head. The male takes one final glance around his bedroom, deciding it’s good enough before he turns to leave. But something on his nightstand catches his eye, the joint he rolled earlier practically beckoning him with the promise of sweet relaxation.

And with the state of his jangled nerves, he could use all the help he could get.

So he slips the joint behind his ear, spinning the lighter between his thumb and forefinger as he pads down the hall toward you.

And while his nerves were ravaging his insides, you aren’t faring much better.

You had counted every mug and hat that lined the walls of his living room twice over, in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the fact that you were actually here with him. All alone, with no prying eyes or listening ears to interrupt you. And despite the fact that he just put a shirt back on, it doesn’t stop your thoughts from wandering to not so innocent places.

The sleeves are cut off, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. An array of dark ink flows over his arms, the black shirt making him appear almost paler in comparison. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth when you see the muscles in his forearms contract when he places his palms flat on the counter.

Your thighs press together as your gaze travels lower, where his jeans cling a little too tightly to his—

“You still up for some pizza?” he asks, picking up the phone and interrupting your thoughts.

“O-Oh, right!” you blink, averting your eyes. “Pizza sounds great.”

He quickly punches in a number before you can ask any further questions, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Hey man, it’s Eddie,” he says after a few moments.

The male tucks the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he speaks, fingers drumming lightly along the countertop. The movement causes his hair to fall over his face, a stray curl eventually finding its way into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah the usual.” he sputters, spitting the hair out and tucking the wild curls back behind his ear. “But uh, can I get olives on half?”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head fondly. And it has you contemplating what other ways you could make his eyes roll back.

“No no no, I have not become an ‘olive enthusiast.’” He scoffs, fingers curling into air quotes. “I just, I have…” he pauses, dark eyes flicking over to you. “I have a guest over tonight.”

And the way Eddie has to hold the phone away from his ear has you stifling a giggle. You can hear a muffled voice on the other end, their enthusiastic lilt apparent even from where you are perched on the end of the sofa.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” He chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But that should be it.” Eddie tucks the phone back in between his shoulder, reaching to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh wait, wait!” He exclaims, slapping his palm down onto the counter. “Add on an order of those cinnamon breadsticks too.”

You wish you could’ve been privy to their entire conversation, because the way Eddie flushes a deep crimson before he playfully tells the person on the other end to ‘kindly fuck off’ and hangs up the phone, has you beyond intrigued.

He takes a couple more bills out, tossing them on the counter and slips the wallet back into his pocket. The chain jingles against his thigh with each step he takes, your eyes unintentionally following the movement. He plops down onto the sofa beside you, the heat in his cheeks fading into a soft, rosy sheen.

“Nina’s is busy tonight,” he murmurs, setting something onto the small table beside him. “So, it might take a little longer than usual.”

“How did you know Nina’s Pizzeria was my favorite?” you ask, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Well,” he hums, leaning his head back against the cushions and giving you a lazy grin. “I just assumed you had much better taste than Domino’s, sweetheart.”

You playfully whack him with one of the throw pillows beside you, a stunned expression crossing over his features. Half of his hair is ruffled from where the pillow connected with his head, and this time you can’t contain the giggles from bubbling up in your chest.

“Oh you are so going to regret that, baby.” he taunts, eyes narrowing in a predatory manner.

And your whole body stills.

Baby. He just called you baby.

Eddie uses this moment to his advantage, pouncing on you with a wicked cackle. His hands find your sides, quickly pulling giggle after breathless giggle from you. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you squeal and begin to thrash beneath him as he continues to torture you with his fingers.

Your attempts to get him back are futile. Eddie is much faster, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly from the exertion, your faces mere inches apart.

His curls create a dark curtain around you, his eyes flicking down toward your lips. His minty breath washes over you, causing yours to lodge in your throat. You just stare at each other, both of you fighting the urge to close the remaining distance between your mouths.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, “Movie time?”

“Movie time,” you agree.

And just like that, the moment is gone as quickly as it came. Eddie clumsily climbs off you, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His curls bounce as he springs back up, offering a hand to help you sit back up.

“Now my fair maiden, what film dost thou choose?”

He holds up both cases, the choice of movie concealed by the large Family Video logo. You purse your lips, glancing back and forth between the cases as if looking at them longer would somehow reveal the title beneath.

“That one.”

You point to the one in his left hand, and Eddie tosses the other back onto the coffee table. He pops open the plastic case and chuckles before looking up at you.

“Texas Chainsaw it is.” He grins, removing the tape from its case and heading toward the TV.

Eddie crouches down, balancing on the soles of his feet as he loads the tape into the VCR. our eyes can’t help but wander across the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his back. The hem of his shirt rides up ever so slightly as he reaches to switch the tv on, exposing the band of his boxer shorts and the pale skin of his lower back.

“However,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes are warm and full of mischief. “You are not leaving this trailer until you get to experience the cinematic masterpiece that is Ridley Scott’s Alien.”

The playful threat has your whole body warming, feeling thankful when he finally switches off the lamp. The darkness of the room is a welcome reprieve with only his silhouette visible, illuminated by the glow from the TV. He bounds back over and takes the seat beside you.

You allow yourself to sink further into the sofa while Eddie grabs something off the side table. The spark of the lighter ignites the handsome features of his face, and the slight stubble along his jaw. His plush lips carefully wrap around the end of the joint, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhales deeply.

The sight alone sends a delightful shiver up your spine, shifting your gaze back toward the television as the smoke billows out from between his lips.

“Are you cold?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa in search of the old quilt that was previously thrown over it.

But said quilt had unfortunately fallen behind the sofa in the midst of your scuffle, well beyond his reach now. Eddie leans in closer, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to locate the missing quilt in the dark. You can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, which causes another shiver to pass through you.

“Maybe a little,” you murmur.

And the male doesn’t complain when you nuzzle yourself further into his side, happily curling his arm around your shoulders. He takes another hit from the joint as the trailers continue to flash across the screen, the upcoming releases now the furthest thing from your mind.

“You want some?” He holds the joint out toward you, blowing some smoke out the corner of his mouth. “No pressure, of course.”

You carefully take it from him, your fingers brushing against his own in the process. Despite your initial reservations, you immediately lift the joint to your lips, feeling his eyes continue to linger on your features. In your nervous haste you inhale a little too quickly, the smoke evading your lungs in sharp fragments that has you immediately coughing it back up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer,” he teases, gently rubbing your back, the touch a welcome distraction. “You gotta inhale slower.”

He takes the joint back from you, keeping it between his fingers while you continue to cough your lungs up. You’re very thankful he can’t see the way your eyes are watering as another cough racks through your chest.

“Have you ever smoked before?” he asks, only curiosity lacing his tone.

“Um, once,” cough. “In the ninth grade when I stole a cigarette out of my aunt’s purse.”

The memory is sparked, causing a smile to tug at the corner of your mouth. Your Aunt Bev had been visiting from Reno for Christmas, like she did every year. The eccentric woman was always decked out in colorful rhinestones and bright blue eyeshadow, spinning wild tales of her nights out on the strip much to the chagrin of your mother.

But you had never seen her without a trusty pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

So when one of your older cousins claimed you were too much of a prissy pants to join in on their smoke session (aka the infamous cousin walk), you took it upon yourself to swipe one from her purse and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But you received the lecture of a lifetime from her when you came back looking guilty and smelling like nicotine.

As you recount the tale back to him, you purposely leave out the part where you almost threw up in a snowbank because you were coughing so hard. No need to subject him to that visual. And while that experience had you swearing off cigarettes for the rest of your life, that didn’t mean you should deny yourself this one…right?

“Well your aunt’s absolutely right you know,” he says after a moment, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “Cigarettes are terrible for you.”

You go to reach for that pillow again, ready to whack him in the head for good measure but Eddie chucks it across the room before you even have a chance to grab it. The pillow narrowingly misses the tv set by an inch, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“Ah, ah ah!” he tuts, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Don’t mess with the mane, sweetheart.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes fondly before turning your attention back to the movie. But Eddie keeps his gaze on you, admiring how the soft glow highlights the features of your face. Your nose, which scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you’re annoyed. Your gentle eyes, that look at him as if he could do no wrong. And your lips—god, your lips. They’re slightly pouted, shiny with spit.

And Eddie's perverted mind can’t help but start to wander. He wonders how your lips would feel wrapped around him, or if those pretty eyes would roll back when he buried his tongue inside you.

Jesus H. Christ, was it getting hotter in here?

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, willing all the blood in his body to stop rushing South.

Popping a boner during a horror flick, that’ll really impress her, idiot.

God, he was too sober for this.

The male quickly tears his gaze away from you, picking up the lighter and relighting the forgotten joint. He doesn’t notice your eyes drifting back toward him, like a moth to a flame.

He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his lungs and dull his sexually intrusive thoughts. But he feels you staring, your eyes transfixed on where the smoke billows out from between his lips. He glances at the joint, then back at you. Then Eddie gets an idea, an awful, sinful idea.

He whispers your name as the room is bathed in darkness again, giving him the final push he needs.

“I want to try something…” he mumbles, carefully removing your glasses and placing them on the coffee table. “Do you trust me?”

You nod automatically.

“Then come here,” he says, voice hoarse.

And when you crawl into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips…

Eddie is a goner.

Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure, despite the way his heart is about to leap out of his chest. You’ve never been this close before, where he can feel the warmth of your thighs seeping into his jeans and smell the faint perfume lingering on your neck.

Even in the dark, he can see that flicker of bashfulness cross over your features, that sudden urge to avoid his heated stare. To tuck in on yourself, to hide away. But to his surprise, you hold his gaze, bold and unwavering when one of his hands falls to rest on your hip. He attempts to soothe you, his thumb circling up and under your shirt.

“Inhale slowly, alright?” he gently reminds you.

His other hand brings that joint back to his full lips, the cherry end igniting brightly as he inhales.

Only this time when he lowers the joint, he leans forward. His lips brush against yours until they part beneath his own, the smoke slithering out and into your awaiting mouth. You inhale slowly—just as he instructed and let the smoke curl in and around your lungs.

And when you breathe out, he’s right there, inhaling the dissipating smoke into his own mouth with a proud smile.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Eddie takes another long drag and leans in again, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. And maybe it’s the look in his eye or the weed beginning to lull your nerves, but you fist the collar of his shirt and pull him into you, crashing your lips together for the second time that evening.

The male barely manages to discard the joint before he’s reeling you back in, tongue gliding over your lower lip and into your awaiting mouth. You taste like Juicy Fruit and a hint of purple palm tree delight, a combination that sets every nerve in his body on fire.

Your fingers wind into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging and earning you a throaty moan. Eddie swears he’s lost it when your sweet moans begin to echo his own. The sound travels straight down, where his cock is straining pathetically against the seam of his jeans.

An uphill battle he’s been fighting since you kissed him in the parking lot of Family Video.

And when you feel that hardness pressing against your inner thigh, it only encourages you to keep going. Giving an experimental roll of your hips that has Eddie’s head lolling back onto the cushions, a choked sound resembling a whine escapes his mouth.

This new position provides you with easier access to his throat, giving you a surge of confidence before your lips find a home there and teeth nip wherever they can find purchase.

Eddie pants as your lips only trail lower, a grunt of your name mixes with a slew of curses when you suck a large bruise onto the base of his throat. Your lips make an audible pop when they detach from his skin and you lean back to assess the damage with a satisfied grin. He looks beautifully wrecked, lips swollen and eyes glossy.

You trace over the blossoming shades of red and purple on his neck with your fingertips, humming softly when you feel a shiver pass through him.

“My turn,” he insists, gently tipping your head back.

When he leans forward, lips brushing against your collarbone, he can almost taste the spiked punch from earlier. A bitter, yet sugary sweet flavor that has him groaning low in his throat. The sound reverberates through your chest and has your hips grinding harder against his own.

The fabric of your panties are completely soaked, making a mess on the front of his jeans with each frantic buck of your hips. His fingers begin to trail lower, sneaking under your skirt and grazing over the elastic of your panties. Feeling emboldened, you take his wrist, pressing the heel of palm against your center.

“Oh shit,” he groans, fingers circling up and over your aching core. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

You can only manage a soft whine in response, allowing him to guide your head back down to capture your lips together.

An abrupt knock sounds just as a blood curdling scream erupts from the television. Both noises pull you apart with a sudden start, which has you nearly falling backwards off his lap and onto the floor below. But Eddie keeps a steady grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Pizza’s here.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @avobabe87 @kellsck @definitionwanderlust @ainelantv @bring-it-on-back

[blue-blue-blooms]

A Little Crush   

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

��♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

angel and evil steddie au where, for whatever reason, reader has put them on a sex ban/something of the sort, but one of them end up convincing her about ‘just the tip’. I think this could be both of them, but they slowly inch further and further in, swearing it’s just the top, but then u feel their balls fully pressed to u, and their only excuse is that ‘doesn’t it just feel so good/right though??’

A/N: i kinda went a bit crazy with this one, couldn’t just write a little blurb… the “just the tip” thing is just so nomnomnom yummy and i need it like i need oxygen. 

word count: 2022

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“Come on Y/n,” with yielding hands, Eddie carefully sat down next to you, “look, I know I fucked up, I am well aware of that,” he emphasized, “but it’s not fair for Steve,” he motioned to the creature sulking in the corner, staring out the cracked bedroom window, “he doesn’t deserve to undergo the same punishment, my punishment, I should take the full of it, not him,” he gesticulated, “fuck, I mean, just look at him. I think if you don’t do something now, relieve him even a little bit, he will just snap and trust me, you don’t wanna see that,” even from here you could see his ivory knuckles as the angel dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood, “please, at least just kiss him a little bit.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snapping the angel out of his daze. Pointing a threatening finger towards him as he turned in your direction, “but you’re still not getting any, you got that?” you warned.

His stoic frown instantly melting away, he breathed out a soft smile, “got it,” slowly moving towards you as felt the devil crawl away. 

“I will just give you one kiss, alright?” your finger was still raised as he sat down beside you, his presents causing your arm to retract as he moved in closer. 

“Yep,” like coming up for air, his hands slid up to each side of your face, “one kiss,” and the next thing you knew, the angel dove in, and desperately pressed his lips against your own. 

Like a man starved, Steve didn’t let his touch falter for even a second, not even parting to catch his breath as his fevered kiss quickly grew out of control. His hands soon wandered all over your form, making you dizzy and causing you not to notice fully when he desperately tilted your body down, pressing you into the mattress with his own weight, just barely hovering above you as he attacked you with his ravenous lips. 

“O-okay,” you uttered weakly, his touch succeeding as usual in being extremely persuasive, “I think that counts as way more than one kiss,” your breath ragged as you turned your head for your kiss to be out of his reach.

Your legs naturally rested on either side of him, curled up and hugging his hips as he brashly melted further into you, letting you feel the previously only suspected tent in his pants press against your hot panties, your short dress haven ridden up completely. Ignoring your comment completely, he simply moved on to your neck as he began to grind down against you, needily scratching his itch and making your breath grow more wild. 

“Just a little bit more, please,” he croaked, smearing his plea all over where your pulse hammered on the side of your neck, “just give me a little bit more, sweetheart,” his fingers digging into your soft thigh for support as he rocked against the growing wet spot on your exposed underwear.

“Steve,” you tried to fight how your eyes fluttered closed, still determined to keep the disappointment alive, that you had taken out on the both of them, though your arms still reluctantly slid up around his neck and fervently grabbed onto his broad shoulders. 

Roaming a hand up to squeeze your tit, your nipples standing proud and visible through your thin dress, he purred, “come on, honey,” catching one of the pebbles between his fingers and tugging on it teasingly, causing your thighs to clench around his form, “I know you need this as much as I do.”

“Steve…” the rest of your words fell short as he raised himself up, hovering above you with his forearms strong on either side of your head, letting you stare into his breathtaking eyes. 

Looking down at you as if you were turning into his favourite meal, he continued, “and maybe this could be a way to up his punishment…” with a finger on your jaw, he tilted your head over for you to gaze at the devil, silently watching from the corner of the room, “just let him sit there and watch you get off, while he knows he can’t have you. Wouldn’t that make it much worse for him? Don’t you want him to learn his lesson? Don’t you want him to suffer?”

“I-… fuck, fine,” you gave up in a huff, him haven driven your mind so fuzzy that you couldn’t comprehend saying anything else, “but you are not fucking me,” you said firmly, “not with your tentacles, not with your cock, not even with your finger. You stay out of my pussy, okay?”

Victory seeping across his face in the form of a sly grin, he chuckled, “okay,” agreeing hazily as he dipped back down to catch your lips. 

Sneaking a hand down between your close bodies, you felt him tug your sodden panties to the side and rapidly after that heard him impatiently freeing his hard cock, a low sigh leaving his lungs as he felt the intimate contact of his throbbing length rest directly against your weeping folds, leaning his torso far enough back for him to get a good view. 

“Oh my god, what did I just say?” you groaned as he, with a grip firm at the base, swiped his leaking tip through your petals, pursing your pretty pussy lips apart for him.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he laughed, holding the soaked cotton to the side, hooked in his thumb, as he rubbed his length all over your cunt, relishing in your juices, “I’m not gonna put it in you. I just wanna feel you, please. It’s been so long.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, “it’s been like a few days, a week max.”

“I don’t care, that’s still too long,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly tapped his heavy cock against your buzzing clit, making your whole body jolt in need. 

“Yeah, I bet if it was up to you, I would just stay like this,” you joked, “never go to school or work again, just let you two play with me for the rest of my days.”

“Is that a proposition?” he smirked, cocking his eyebrows and pinching your plump folds on either side of his girth, letting him fuck it and glide the bulbous head over your swollen clit. 

“Urgh,” you sighed, lifting your hands up and hiding your flushed face from him, “just shut up and cum so I can go back to studying.”

“Oh, yeah, you want me to be quiet all of a sudden?” you peeked down through your fingers and glanced at the sloppy mess he was making of you, “I thought you liked listening to me, listening to what you do to me…” he fucked his fist, angling his thrusts so he slid through your slick folds every time, ending each movement with a persistent nudge at your clit, “don’t lie, I know how much it pushes you over the edge.”

Maybe it was your abundant wetness causing his thrusts to go sloppy or perhaps it was just him being greedy and angling further down, accidentally catching your weeping hole on his way through your folds. 

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, just the sensation of him rubbing himself over your entrance made your legs quiver, “don’t do that,” you warned as it barely breached one too many times for it to have been accidental. 

“Oh, come on,” he flicked against your opening, purposefully getting caught every time, “what if it’s just the tip, huh? Would that be alright? I just wanna feel you squeeze me, even if it’s just the tip.”

Biting down on your lip, his teasing becoming simply too much, you let out a whimper and nodded your head meekly at him. 

The thing was, Steve was huge. There wasn’t any other way to put it. He was a powerful creature from beyond this realm and his assents made that painfully obvious. The tip of him didn’t just feel like the tip. The fat head was so big and staggering that it had your whole body just quit on you, the severe stretch being too much for it not to give out. It was always like that. It was so overwhelming that even just a whisper of him felt like he was rearranging your guts. If you didn’t look down, you never truly knew how much of him he had given you till you felt his pelvis rut against your clit and his tip bully your cervix. 

Pressing his lips against your own, he muffled your pathetic whimpers as he slowly fucked you with the tip of him, rudely yanking it out just to slap the heavy length against your puffy petals, filling the bedroom with the sloppy music of your need. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned as you melted into the mattress, losing yourself completely to the moment, “missed your little holes so much.” 

“Don’t push in any more, promise me you won’t,” you panted, wiggling under his weight.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” he hazily shook his head, capturing your lips once more. 

“Promise me,” you turned your cheek to demand.

“I promise, I promise,” his empty answer rushed out as he continued to prod your needy little hole. 

Keeping his lips pressed against yours, lapping up your whimpering moans, he crushed you with his body in a way that made the rest of the world just fall away from under you, making your whole universe be just him, the agonising feeling of him bullying your opening, and his warm eyes staring back into your own as you melted into a puddle beneath him. 

“Fuck,” you suddenly exclaimed as all the air in your lungs was forced out, “you asshole!” the all too familiar overwhelming sensation of him reaching the end of what you had to offer, making you doubt if you were on the verge of cumming or about to punch him, “I knew you were gonna do that!”

Grinding his pelvis against your own, burying himself so deep that it hurt, he taunted, “if you were really so smart, then why did you let me?” relishing in the feeling of your cunt clambering down around him.

Trying not to give him the satisfaction, you muttered, “god, I hate you,” though your conviction was lost completely as his sudden and powerful thrust made you moan out in enchanted ecstasy. 

“Aw, I love you too, honey,” he chuckled, kissing your fuzzy features as he found his greedy rhythm, “doesn’t this feel so much better, though?”

“I can feel you in my fucking throat,” you gasped, a statement true of every time he had filled you up. 

Adoring eyes soaking in your every reaction, he growled in response, “exactly.” 

His hands then swiftly grabbed yours as they began to claw at his back, hauling them up above your head and locking them in his tight grip. 

“This pretty little pussy just needed to be stuffed,” he cooed against your lips, “it’s what she deserves,” his balls, dripping with your juices, slapped against your heat with every needy slam, “deserves to be treated like this,” he empathized with his hips, “deserves to be used,” he shifted his grip on your wrists, gliding up to weave his fingers with yours, “to be loved,” his nose rhythmically bumped against yours as he pushed you over the edge, “to be worshipped,” he fervently captured your lips, silencing the guttural cry that escaped as you trembled violently beneath him, soaking the bedsheets and gushing all over his cock.

Letting your eyes flutter shut, his gruff moans washed over you as your clenching cunt milked him of all of his worth. 

“Fuck,” he panted, forehead resting against your own as he insatiably continued to roll into you, sloppily fucking his cum even deeper and forcing it to spill out as your pussy clambered around him, “I love you so much…”

“You are so terrible,” you said light-heartedly as a dazed smile bloomed upon your blissed-out face, your brows swiftly knitting together at his excessive and relentless desire.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[artaxlivs]

“Ok, when I say go - squeeze as hard as you can.”

Eddie was going to lose it. There was absolutely zero chance he was going to be able to sit through this display without having a display of his own. He squirmed where he was sitting in the grass, bringing his knees up in a way he hoped was real fucking casual.

“Smooth,” Robin whispered from her spot in the shade next to him. She was leaned back on her hands, giraffe legs sprawled out in front of her so she could poke Henderson with her toes. He kept swatting back at her and ignoring the fact that he was missing entirely. Too focused on the stopwatch and notebook in his hand. What a nerd.

Max got up from where she’d been sitting on the other side of Robin and joined Lucas in his patio chair. Poor Lucas looked like he was on cloud nine which must mean they were currently off on the on-again-off-again cycle of their relationship. Settling in, Max turned to grin at Eddie, sharp and evil. It was clear she’d only moved there to see how this was affecting him. She was a horrible child. His least favorite. 

Except that she wasn’t.

Sticking his tongue out at her, Eddie looked back to the scene in front of him.

The ground around them was littered with crushed fruits. Steve’s thighs were shiny with orange juice. His tiny little shorts had ridden up so high that it had passed indecent before he’d even finished with the citrus fruit. Eddie gulped as his eyes traced over the clear bulge in Steve’s little green shorts. He refused to lift his eyes to Steve’s bare chest with his smattering of moles and coarse hair.

And there was not a chance in hell that Eddie was going to make eye contact with that smirk of Steve’s. He knew what the fuck he’d started. With the kids around and everything! Granted, all Steve had done was crush an empty soda can between his thighs and then the challenge had been on. Lucas had sworn he could do it, too. And he did. But he couldn’t manage to do the lemon. Steve had though. And the orange. and whatever the fuck a papaya was. And on through all the fruit in Steve’s kitchen - did he stock up for this? Who kept that much fruit on hand?

Now, he had a whole ass melon between those thick thighs of his. And Steve had been working out all summer. Running, yes, but it was the squats that drove Eddie to madness. The sunkissed skin wrapped around thick muscles, covered in downy hair, begging, screaming for Eddie to touch them. To run his fingers up them and squeeze, to bury his face between them and finally clear his head with the musky scent of Steve Harrington.

Fuck. Eddie should have escaped into the house. He was never gonna be able to keep his cool. Steve sat back, adjusting around so everyone could see the length of his legs as he crossed his ankles, shifting the melon a little as he got into position.

Eddie whimpered.

“Oh, who cares?” Mike scoffed, “So your big dumb jock legs can make us a fruit salad. Big deal.” He elbowed Will who was staring very intently at Steve. Eddie grinned, covering his mouth and flicking his eyes at Robin who’s eyes were wide and who’s mouth was an O of shock. “We aren’t impressed. Right, Will?”

“Shhh, Mike.” Will waved a hand but didn’t shift his focus away from Steve, “Later.”

Mike sputtered, looking from Will’s intent gaze down to Steve’s thighs. Eddie saw it the moment Mike realized what was going on. He looked shocked. Then angry. Then jealous. And last, scared. There it was. Finally. Jesus.

If Eddie had to suffer through this, at least some good would come of it. Mike would finally realize that he needed to get his head out of his ass. It was about--

“Go!” Dustin yelled, clicking the tab on the top of the watch.

Steve grunted, squeezing his thighs together. His fingers flexed against the ground behind him and his ass came up off the patio a few inches as he sort of ...oh dear god...arched up into it. He clenched his thighs, his hips, his gorgeous fucking ass, Eddie held his breath, clenched his own thighs to not arch up in response, biting his lips to keep from panting and moaning and then--

CRACK! The melon split clear up the middle, splooging juice right up the seam of Steve’s clenched thighs. It dripped out under him and Eddie could taste cooper he was biting down so hard on his bottom lip.

Dustin had already released the timer, cheering with everyone. Eddie resolutely did not look up, keeping his eyes trained on the slowly growing puddle under Steve instead. It was so hot. It was fucking obscene. 

“Alright, what’s next?” Dustin said with a sunny smile, looking up from where he’d noted the time in his spiral notebook.

“Me.” Eddie heard himself say and launched himself at his boyfriend. Steve muttered something about it being about time right before Eddie smashed their mouths together.

“Um...should I...start the timer?” he heard Dustin ask. 

There were a bunch of squelching thuds as people must have thrown crushed fruit at him.

[wheneverfeasible]

Sickness of the Heart

wc: 5.5k || rating: T+ || cw: sexual themes, language, slut-shaming (but for a good cause) || summary: After ending his FWB relationship with a!Eddie, o!Steve must deal with the humiliation of a self-imposed rejection sickness while interacting with the other members of Corroded Coffin. Flight of Icarus compliant. Angst with an open ending. || ao3

Note: This fic does contain a brief summary of Paige’s involvement in Flight of Icarus, so while it does contain some spoilers, this also means that you do not need to have read the book to enjoy this story. Also, while this is technically a Steddie fic, Eddie doesn’t actually make an appearance in the story itself lol.

This fic is partially inspired by @fkinkindagauche ‘s fic The Unbearable Horniness of Steve Harrington in relation to Steve’s rejection sickness. Excellent read if you haven’t yet!

-

Steve was going to murder Dustin.

Or maybe he’ll let him live, he hasn’t decided yet. The kid didn’t really know the whole story, after all, so it wasn’t like he knew how utterly lost and devastated Steve felt right now, the rejection sickness curling through him in sharp pangs and dull aches. He didn’t know how much Steve’s heart was breaking with every step Steve took towards Gareth’s garage.

The only benefit was that Steve knew Eddie was out of town, setting things up with Paige for their chance of redemption. The pretty beta had reached out after the news of Eddie’s trial had made front page news even outside of Indiana, her boss apparently wanting to give Eddie a second chance at making it big in the music industry.

Eddie had been floored, energetic, and even the boys in Corroded Coffin couldn’t fault him if he ditched them again to make a better life for himself. They all knew he deserved it after everything. Except, Eddie had told them point blank that he was never running again, never turning his back on those he cared about. Had agreed to the offer to audition properly, but only if all of Corroded Coffin was invited too. All or nothing, he’d said.

After a bit of back-and-forth, Paige’s boss agreed.

It had been the final nail in the coffin for this thing between him and Eddie.

The facts were this:

During Eddie’s first senior year, Paige, with her fancy music scout assistant L.A. job, had been visiting her family in town and stumbled across Corroded Coffin playing at The Hideout. As anyone with even a passing interest in music could clearly see, she discovered Eddie and was instantly impressed with his talent and passion for music. They had…hit it off.

It had led to an offer to audition. But just for Eddie. And Eddie? Young and stupid and running away from a town that already hated him just for being his father’s son? Well, he had agreed. And then said father had come back and ruined everything, had burned those bridges for Eddie before disappearing once again and taking with it Eddie’s chance of a better life.

Had, in fact, been directly responsible for Eddie getting into drug dealing with led to…everything.

The relationship with Paige had ended messily, but not as devastating as it could have been. At least, that was Steve’s understanding of things. Over the course of his and Eddie’s…thing…the older alpha had talked about his past, slowly revealing all of this to Steve who had opened up about his own traumatic past, about his guilt over Barb, his and Robin’s torture at the hands of evil Russians, and how his parents had never truly loved him, made all that much more obvious when his secondary gender presented as omega.

It had been nice. For a moment, Steve had been able to pretend that it was something more than it actually was. Could pretend that when Eddie called him beautiful as he moved inside him, that the alpha had meant it as more than just what a good lay Steve was.

It had never been more than that, however. No matter how much Steve desperately but secretly wished otherwise.

Helping Eddie recover, then also serving as a character witness for Eddie’s trial, the two of them had grown into something actually resembling genuine friends and not just two people thrown together because of otherworldly forces and trauma. Eddie even spent a large part of his time at Steve’s house as they all prepared for Eddie’s trial, whether with the larger group or just on his own.

And then Eddie’s rut hit, unexpectedly and most likely brought on by stress from the trial, and…well…well Steve actually hadn’t had a decent lay in a while since he’d been dating betas and other omegas almost exclusively since Nancy. He missed being with an alpha. Missed being able to let himself go and fall into omega space, which he trusted Eddie with since he was his friend first and foremost.

The offer had been met with incredulity, but Steve had pointed out that things with the trial and his defense would get messy if Eddie lost control if he either tried to weather it alone or find another omega to share it with, and Steve was game if Eddie was. Purely transactional, just two bros helping each other out, never to be spoken about again.

Except neither had been prepared for how compatible they were with sex, even if they weren’t always compatible in their day-to-day friendship. So, after the embarrassment and awkwardness went away, they settled on a deal. When Steve’s heat came around, Eddie would help him out too. And he did not too long later, and it was just as great as the first time too.

And then they had sex when neither rut nor heat was present.

It was drunken sex, sure, celebrating not only Eddie’s freedom with the long trial finally being over but also celebrating the high school diploma Eddie had received in the mail that day, but it was sex all the same. And then it kept happening. Just two bros helping each other let off steam while enjoying some fantastic orgasms. Friends with benefits and that was it.

Except that wasn’t it for Steve.

No, his days of just enjoying being casual ended when he’d fallen in love with Nancy, when the idea of a Winnebago full of pups had begun to seem like something he could actually have, and he’d been chasing that high ever since. Even when he casually dated after Nancy, it has always been in search of someone to share that future with.

Enter Eddie Munson, a ridiculously nerdy and unhinged alpha who loved Steve’s honorary pups as much as Steve himself did. And yeah, they bickered all the time, clashed and argued and didn’t really have much else in common and sometimes jabbed each other with pointed insults from high school, but the sex was fantastic and Eddie was…surprisingly sweet. Sensitive. Caring. Considerate.

Eddie was annoying and hyperactive and made Steve want to tear his hair out sometimes, but he was also exactly the sort of alpha that Steve had always wanted. Steve wasn’t certain when it actually began, but it was when he was watching Eddie carefully roughhouse with the pups one day that he found himself looking forward to how Eddie would be with their pups.

And that horrifying realization had been the beginning of the end.

He knew Eddie didn’t think about him like that. Honestly, how could he? First of all, Eddie deserved better than the town slut, not that Steve ever felt ashamed about being said slut. He liked sex and he though he eventually wanted a happily-ever-after of his own, he wasn’t opposed to sleeping around until he found it. If he ever did.

Now though, realizing that his inner omega had apparently decided on yet another alpha that he knew he could never truly have, he began wondering if he was just doomed to never being properly mated. But then it wasn’t just his inner omega craving Eddie’s alpha. It was Steve himself craving all of Eddie.

He had fallen in love with Eddie Munson. And he didn’t even know when it had happened.

Which, of course, meant that he had to end things. Immediately.

The rejection sickness he’d gotten after Tina’s party had been…intense. He’d been angry too, or really just heartbroken. He’d only been able to push it down, reason with the sickness, when he decided that it was just the alcohol and the stress and the guilt and had decided to apologize for…whatever he needed to apologize for. And then It happened and the sickness was pushed back even further to deal with everything until…

Well, when he saw Nancy and Jonathan and smelled them, he knew it was well and truly over. Then the sickness hit him back harder than ever. He knew he couldn’t suffer through that again, not like that. And he knew with a certainty that losing Eddie would make his previous sickness feel like a walk in the park if he let himself fall even more deeply in love with Eddie than he already was, if he let his inner omega start even more of the courting process than it had already tried.

It hadn’t been pretty. It wasn’t that Eddie had any genuine feelings for him outside of friendship and lust, but Steve suddenly breaking things off had been…complicated. More than he had expected it to be. But Paige had come sniffing around again by then and Steve knew…fuck, he knew how considerate Eddie was.

If he knew that Steve felt the way he had, that Steve’s omega had already claimed him as his alpha, then Eddie would be a self-sacrificing idiot and give Steve what he wanted even if he didn’t want it. To spare Steve that pain. Especially if Steve accidentally got knocked up, which was seeming more and more of a possibility when Steve’s stupid omega brain kept forgetting to take his birth control because it wanted to be knotted and pupped up.

Eddie had his whole life in front of him, and now a chance to actually make it out of Hawkins and live his big rockstar hero dreams. And the chance to be with the only person Steve knew that Eddie ever had actual feelings for. Steve couldn’t take that from him. So he broke up with him…as much as you can break up with someone who was just your friend that you’re ostentatiously just using for good sex.

Eddie had been rightly annoyed when he’d arrived at their regularly scheduled dick appointment time only to be kicked out with blue balls and told that it was never happening again. Among a few other sharp words to get the point across.

Steve probably should have called him before Eddie made it to his house, before Eddie had paid for the dinner he was bringing that night, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to say the words over the phones that for all he knew were still tapped by the government.

Steve could tell that Eddie had been a bit offended too, and worried. Of course Eddie would worry that he wasn’t doing enough in bed, that he wasn’t good enough in bed, which had to be a kick to an alpha’s ego no matter who it was. Steve couldn’t really just say that he was ending things so that Eddie could get with Paige again and move out of Hawkins, however.

So he played up the angle that he was growing bored, that he was looking for something new now, even as his inner omega railed against such lies. He wanted more, certainly, but more with Eddie. Which Eddie couldn’t give him. Sure, Eddie might stick around like a martyr if Steve flashed him that pleading omega look he knew Eddie’s alpha was weak for, but that didn’t mean that Eddie himself could give Steve what he most desperately wanted: Eddie’s heart.

Which led to now, with Eddie meeting with Paige at her big fancy grownup job and no doubt rekindling old flames, and Steve stuck in Hawkins having to return one of those Dipshits and Dingbats books that Dustin had borrowed from Gareth.

The band was practicing, even without their frontman Eddie being present, and as Steve turned off the engine of his car and grabbed the ratty old book in question, he could make out something over the sporadic noise about behind the scenes footage and their eventual rise to fame.

Which…yeah. Steve knew that it wasn’t a question of if but of when. Metal still wasn’t really his preferred style of music, but he’d gone to some shows, had even been to a few of the band’s practices after he and Eddie started messing around, and he knew the boys were talented. Any music exec would be stupid to pass them up.

He grimaced a little behind his sunglasses when, with a discordant screech of Jeff’s guitar, the racket stopped. The boy in question was glaring at him, which…fair, he supposed, since he was the one that broke off the thing with Eddie, but it wasn’t like it was anything more than just sex. Nothing to warrant the glares he was receiving from the whole band.

But then, they’d never really been too keen on Eddie being friends with him, much less hooking up, and it wasn’t like they could hide that with how their scents had begun mingling. Another sign that it was high time to break it off, before it entered beyond accidental courtship and drifted into accidental bonding.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” Gareth growled, the scent of annoyed alpha only causing Steve to fumble slightly as he brought up one hand in mock surrender and the other holding the book.

“Henderson wanted to make certain you got this back before you left,” he huffed, pushing his sunglasses up over his head to squint at the trio glaring back at him. He waved the book a little, hoping one of them took it from him so he didn’t have to step further into the garage. No one did.

“Why didn’t he just bring it himself instead of sending you of all people?” Gareth scoffed with a small sneer, never having really been Steve’s biggest fan. Not that Steve could really blame him; he knew people like Steve hadn’t made Gareth’s life easy, including Gareth’s own father.

“Ask him yourself, asshole,” Steve muttered, cocking one hand on his hip impatiently. Though the other two were only betas and thus didn’t have much in the way of scents, their posturing didn’t leave any doubt that they didn’t like him.

He just…didn’t know why. Besides Gareth, the other two had seemed relatively okay with Steve hanging around. Jeff had even once been actively friendly, while…uh…fuck. Steve always forgot the other one’s name. Stan? No. Doug? No. Grant? He was fairly certain that was wrong too. Whatever. Anyways, he had only cared that Steve didn’t get in the way of practice or their non-Hellfire DnD games after Eddie graduated.

Now they all looked at him like how they had at the beginning, when they hadn’t trusted the former jock, when they had only seen King Steve and hated everything about him on principle, only seeing another Jason Carver instead of the dude who had stood up for their friend in trial. Whatever. It didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt.

At least, that’s what Steve kept telling himself.

He didn’t let himself think about how Jeff had once clapped him on the shoulder when he had embarrassedly brought some fudge he had made, trying out a new recipe to take to the Hopper-Byers’ during one of their semi-regular get-togethers that had originally cropped up during preparing for Eddie’s trial. Now it just became a thing they did for fun.

He also didn’t think about the other one (Jesus, seriously, what was his name again?) had jokingly argued with Eddie about what class Steve would be, certain that he’d be a basic fighter while Eddie had been adamant that he’d be a paladin. Steve hadn’t known what any of it meant, but the two of them had laughed at the end and it had been with Steve, not at him.

Even Gareth had, on occasion, been almost nice to him, settling Steve on the worn red couch at the back of the garage with noise cancelling headphones and some magazines of his mother’s when practice had run long and Steve was supposed to pick Eddie up to meet up with Jonathan and the others.

Now everyone just stared at him with unconcealed looks of annoyance and disdain. He hated it. Even though it wasn’t them his omega wanted, he still felt another sharp spasm of pain from the rejection of Eddie’s pack.

It must have showed on his face, or the way his body twitched and the arm holding out the book dropped, because a brief flash of concern whisked across Gareth’s expression and he stood up from his seat behind the drums, his nose crinkling.

“You smell like shit, Harrington,” he stated, moving around the drums to get slightly closer. At least the smell of annoyed alpha was dissipating.

“Gee, thanks,” Steve dryly said with a roll of his eyes. He swallowed against the burn of bile in his esophagus and held out the book once more. “Look, just take the damn book so I can go.”

A part of him was tempted just to drop the book, to let it fall and hit the concrete ground uncaring if the edges got fucked up or not. But these were Eddie’s friends and his inner omega wouldn’t let him do anything that might upset the alpha he wanted as his own. Pathetic as that was.

Gareth moved closer then, and Steve finally thought the younger boy would finally take the stupid thing from him, but instead Gareth’s hand shot out to grab hold of his wrist with a frown on his face. The touch of another alpha that wasn’t the one he wanted sent another roil of nausea through Steve’s belly, and he struggled hard to get his arm released, causing Gareth to simply tighten his hold.

“Let go of me!” Steve hissed. He saw the other two move forward towards them, but Gareth waved them back with his free hand, which they reluctantly listened to, though Jeff frowned as he glanced over his shoulder towards the back of the garage.

“You look sick, Harrington,” Gareth said instead of doing as he’d asked. “You smell sick too.”

“He’s right,” the other one, the bassist, said after a moment of consideration while Jeff’s head cocked to the side, an unreadable expression on his face. ���I can’t smell you all that well, but you look terrible.”

“Don’t tell me,” Gareth scoffed, taking a long, deep sniff over Steve that caused him to blanche. “You really have the audacity to have rejection sickness when you’re the one who dumped Eddie?”

Steve pursed his lips and grabbed the book with his free hand to shove it at Gareth’s chest, forcing the younger boy to fumble and take it while moving back a step. He glared at them, wiping at his now freed wrist as though he could wipe off Gareth’s touch. Asshole.

“Don’t be such a fucking knothead,” Steve snarled, and no, maybe he didn’t get to have the intimidation of an alpha, but omegas would be fierce in their own ways. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the others who were more or less gaping at him now.

And he knew, okay? He knew it was weird, being sick when he had been the one to call it off, and it wasn’t like they were even anything other than fuck buddies letting off steam together. There had never been anything but friendship and lust between them. But try telling Steve’s omega that. His nesting had been insane.

It was only by some miracle that Eddie hadn’t been clocked in to Steve’s growing emotions and affections. That he hasn’t seen just how delusional Steve had been for that brief moment when he actually thought, maybe, just maybe, just for once the person he liked might like him back, might see him as something other than a stupid, used up, good for nothing, filthy, dirty, worthless—

“Look, I’m not an idiot, okay?” Steve snapped out, flushing not just in anger this time but also embarrassment and shame at the way his eyes suddenly grew wet. He blinked rapidly, his fingers digging into his biceps. “I knew what it was and what it wasn’t. I know it was just sex for Eddie, okay?”

Steve huffed out at Gareth’s suddenly blank expression, pleased that he had at least gotten the jackass to shut the fuck up and stop stinking the place up with his pissed off alpha pheromones. He deeply sighed, moving his sunglasses to hook in the collar of his shirt to run a hand through his hair before glaring at Gareth who had moved a couple steps to the side. Putting more distance between them maybe?

“I know that someone like Eddie and someone like me would never actually happen,” he muttered, and putting it into words with someone else had the bone deep aches from the sickness sending another wave of pain.

“What do you mean, ‘someone like Eddie,’” the bassist scoffed, his hackles rising, though he exchanged looks across the garage with Jeff. Gareth sneered as well, but there was also a shrewdness in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he took in more of Steve’s scent.

Steve rolled his eyes, throwing up a hand in frustration. He didn’t know why he was even still here, why he was trying to defend or justify himself, but his omega was telling him that these were his alpha’s packmates and thus deserved the truth.

“Like I said, I’m not an idiot,” he reluctantly said. “Eddie is…Eddie’s…” Steve huffed at himself next, scrubbing his hand over his eyes at the prickly feeling of fresh tears. He normally wasn’t much of a crier, but the hormones affecting him from the rejection sickness had him closer to blubbering at all hours of the day more than he would like.

Worse even than when it had cut through him after Nancy.

“Eddie is brilliant, okay?” he finally managed to get out, even if he was annoyed at needing to say this at all. He wished he could have just dropped the book off and left. “He’s so much braver than he gives himself credit for, he’s amazing with the pups, he’s creative and smart and and considerate and kind and probably one of the best people I’ve ever known. He’s a goddamn hero, whether he wants to believe it or not.”

Though these three had no idea what Eddie had gone through, not truly, they did know that there was more to the story than they had been told. Steve had always been quite vocal about talking about how amazing Eddie had been for the trial, and though he had to flub some of the details, everything he said had been true. Eddie was a hero, even if Eddie himself always denied that.

“And he’s hot,” Steve couldn’t help adding, with another small flush of embarrassment. “He has those stupid doe eyes that you want to spill all your secrets to, and that stupid grin that’s larger than his face, and the stupid way that even when he can’t seem to sit still, his entire focus is on you when you talk…”

Steve scoffed, ashamed of how wet it sounded, and rolled his eyes as he once more wrapped both arms tightly around himself. “And then there’s me. The asshole. The douchebag extraordinaire. The bully. The slut whose only redeeming quality is how easy of a lay I am and daddy’s money, which, by the way, I’m probably being cut off from soon, so really, what else do I have to offer except a used up pussy half the town has been in?” he sneered.

His self-hatred was probably a little too obvious with that, and he didn’t know why he said all of that anyways. Probably it had just been festering away inside of him with no one to unload on, at least no one who wouldn’t try to soothe him and lie to him and say that he wasn’t any of those things.

And yeah, maybe saying he’d slept with half the town was an exaggeration, but he had probably slept with at least half the chicks (and some of the guys) in high school, no matter their designation.

The problem was that Steve’s omega craved human connection. He never really had it growing up, his alpha father too focused on everything wrong with Steve and his beta mother too focused on making certain her husband didn’t stray to inbetween an omega’s legs…again. So Steve found physical comfort where he could, even if it meant opening thighs or mouth for anyone who shot him an interested look.

And then there was Eddie. Eddie, who never treated Steve like something shameful. Eddie, who had admitted he was wrong about Steve, even if Steve didn’t think he had been. Eddie, who even in rut had checked in on Steve and made certain he felt safe and unharmed. Eddie, who for a short amount of time almost made Steve feel good enough.

Which was the problem. Because Eddie didn’t mean it the way that Steve wanted him to, didn’t see Steve as anything other than a friend he could conveniently get off with, an omega who would never form attachments or come up with unrealistic ideas about them.

Except Steve thought he had probably been attached even before Eddie’s rut. Had too many ideas that were beyond unrealistic; they were straight up impossible. Eddie would never want Steve the way that Steve wanted Eddie.

Not when he had someone like Paige waiting for him, not when he had a future ahead of him outside of this stupid town. Steve couldn’t trap Eddie into a life he never wanted.

“So, what, you broke it off because Eddie doesn’t love you?” Jeff finally asked, his voice sounding odd and a bit louder than necessary. Steve wished he’d shut up. “You’re a used up slut of an omega with no redeeming qualities so obviously Eddie would never want to actually be with you outside of sex because he’s such a great guy and you’re not, is that it?”

Steve didn’t know why Jeff was repeating what Steve had said like that, but the words still caused him to flinch back slightly to hear someone else say them. He glared at Jeff, even as he had to hastily wipe away a traitorous stray tear that had slipped down his cheek.

“What does any of that matter,” the bassist asked. “Why would that send you into rejection sickness if you know nothing could ever come of this thing you two had? You were just using him for sex too, weren’t you?”

Steve’s frown cut across to the other beta, brow furrowing. Why did he sound weird, like he was leading Steve to say something he absolutely could not say? Not because it wasn’t true, but because it would break his heart to say it out loud.

“Come on, Harrington,” Gareth took up the goading next, taking a predatory step towards Steve who hastily took a step back. “You were just fucking, weren’t you? It didn’t mean anything to you. You were just treating Eddie like some glorified sex toy to get off, admit it. Just after an easy knot.”

“That’s not true,” Steve muttered, ducking his chin down even as he glared at Gareth with all he was worth. “I would never…” He shook his head in frustration. “That’s not how it was.”

“Nah, I think that’s exactly how it was,” Gareth said with a cruel smirk. “Why else would you have dragged him around, using him whenever you needed a good dicking. You got bored of him, isn’t that it? That’s what you said. You had enough of trailer trash like him, your bit of rough and rumble, and so you booted him so you could move on to the next target. What, gonna crawl back to Hagan next?”

Steve jerked back as though slapped. “That’s not true!” he repeated in a louder shout. “I would never use Eddie like that. He’s not trailer trash. He’s better than anyone else in this goddamned town, which is why he has to leave and never look back.”

Gareth smirked, his scent turning pleased, like Steve had said exactly what he wanted to hear. “So you broke up with him because you thought he deserved better?” he mocked, stepping closer again, though this time Steve didn’t budge. He glared furiously at Gareth, his chest heaving with his fury at the boy’s words. “Why the hell would you ever care about trailer trash like him?”

“Because I love him, dammit!” Steve yelled, eyes snapping with all the pent up emotions he never let himself actually feel, and—oh.

It truly did break his heart to say those words aloud. Steve’s face crumpled immediately, all the tears he’d been fighting back now overflowing his eyes spilling down both cheeks.

Even Gareth reacted, taking a step back and further to the side, obviously putting more distance between him and Steve’s distressed omega smell. The other boys shifted uncomfortably, likewise disturbed even without the superior senses to pick up just how much of Steve’s distress and rejection sickness was eating away at him. God, Steve felt so pathetic.

Hastily wiping at his face (not that it mattered as fresh tears continually replaced those wiped away), nose snotty and leaking, Steve glared as much as he could at the three of them. He was so angry, and so hurt, and so resigned to know that this changed nothing.

“Are you happy now?” he spat out, hating how his voice warbled and cracked. “Do you think I’m seriously stupid enough to think I ever had a chance? That I wasn’t anything more than an easy lay for him too? People like me don’t deserve happy endings. Not like Eddie does. He was going to end things anyway so I just did it for him. Assholes,” he muttered, finally turning away to leave because what else was there to say? How much more could he be hurt?

Steve paused. Right.

Turning back around, he bared his teeth as he pointed aggressively at the younger boys, shoulders back and tone once more falling back into the old familiar role of King Steve, even through the tears. “And don’t you lot say shit about this to anybody. Not to Eddie, not to the kids, not even to your fucking grandmas, are we understood?”

Jeff snorted, and Steve hated him more than he ever had for the amused look on his face. “Oh, we won’t say anything. Don’t worry, Stevie.”

Hurt clawed its way back up his throat, jaw quivering at the old familiar nickname, his sickness sending bile he had to rapidly swallow back down. All he wanted was to crawl into bed and wallow and tried to forget the alpha he wanted more than anything to be his and his alone.

Turning back around, Steve shoved his glasses back on his face before wrapped his arms around himself as he made his way back towards his car, fighting back the sobs that wanted to overtake him as he felt the rejection over and over and over again with every step away from his alpha’s pack.

He almost wished he had never met Eddie at all, had never met someone who, for such a short time, made him feel seen and heard and, biggest lie of all, like he was worth something after all.

As if he could ever be more than the bullshit he knew he was.

~

“You get all that?” Gareth asked finally after the three of them watched Steve’s car drive away. He glanced over his shoulder as Jeff moved around the drum set to the camcorder they’d set up to film today’s practice.

Jeff fiddled with the device that had been hiding in plain sight this whole time, the red light indicating it was recording until Jeff switched it off. He pressed another button and the side popped open, allowing him to pull out the vhs with a triumphant wiggle of his brows.

Gareth grinned at the other two with a pleased set to his shoulders, two matching grins meeting his own. “Excellent. After all, we said we wouldn’t say anything to Eddie. Not our fault if he overhears something he wasn’t supposed to when viewing our practice session,” he said with an easy shrug.

“Thank god, because I was sick of his moping. Should we send it overnight express to him now, or let them suffer a little longer?” Jeff laughed, wiggling the vhs in his hand.

“God, I’d say let them suffer because they are going to insufferable after this, but Eddie would skin us alive if we let his omega suffer like that for a moment longer than necessary,” Gareth grimaced, the others wincing in agreement.

“Ugh. And we thought they were bad before,” came the grumbling response, and Gareth could only snort as he glanced at the boy on the bass.

“How soon until they’re pupped up do you think?” Jeff slyly teased.

“After Eddie sees that tape?” Gareth asked with a roll of his eyes. “Same day, Jeffy. Same fucking day.”

Still, Gareth knew they were all three pleased for their friend, and as they ended practice early to get the tape sent out as soon as possible, he had the distinct feeling that when they left town in a few days, Steve would be with them.

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

Promised tag: @katyawriteswhump

[heaventonightmp3]

my sister and i did acid and created an entire fictional war with a bunch of musicians but they’re all rabbits. and basically there’s the friendly rabbits vs the evil rabbits and the friendly rabbits are led by their patron saint, jimi hendrix and the evil rabbits are led by eric clapton. and the rankings go like

friendly rabbits:

- chosen one: serj tankian (daron malakian is his messenger)

- military leader: lemmy (w/ vic rattlehead as 2nd in command)

- bob dylan (minister of propaganda)

- nick mason (prime minister)

evil rabbits:

- chosen one: jimmy page (robert plant as his messenger)

- military leader: lars ulrich’s lazy ass (w/ the fuckin disturbed mascot as 2nd in command)

- steve o (minister of propaganda)

- jon bon jovi (prime minister)

and a really essential thing about the war is symmetry, so every friendly rabbit has an evil counterpart. for example:

joey ramone vs billie joe armstrong (punk rabbits)

paul vs john (mclennon rabbits)

john frusciante vs flea (rchp rabbits)

and the friendly rabbits live in the lab from the korn music video while the evil rabbits live in the black hole sun music video.

and there’s over 200 names in this war and they’ve all been assigned a role (ie. army, navy, air force, medical, weapons testing) and some of them have even won medals of honour for their work. and each role was chosen very specifically and has an in-depth explanation

also keith richards is the neutral force watching down on everyone but he’s not a rabbit he’s just keith.

this is also only like 1/8th of the lore. i have so many notes and spreadsheets dedicated to this like i genuinely don’t think i’ve ever put this much effort into anything. and this might be a sign that i finally lost it lmaooo

comment to find out if your pookie is evil or friendly rabbit

[katyawriteswhump]

Eddie and Steve: Monster Hunters (steddiemicrofic/steddielovemonth)

For @steddiemicrofic Feb prompt, ‘edge,’ and @steddielovemonth day 23, Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold. (@stevesbipanic) Thank you <3

Rating: T. WC: 509. CW: None. Tags: established steddie, angst, slight au, slightly fluffy, slightly soft Eddie, slightly silly!

…

Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d gotten separated from Steve. However, there he was—alone, the demo-goat caught between him and the quarry, his Molotov cocktail primed.

“Eat dirt, you evil, bleating little sh—iiiiiiit!”

Suddenly, Steve was there, hot on the goat’s hooves, brandishing a home-made flame-thrower.

Too late. Eddie’s missile already flew. A flash blinded him, echoed by a crackling boom, and a thunderclap in his chest. He rushed, choking, through the smoke. DID I JUST EXPLODE MY BOYFRIEND?

“Steve?”

“Heeeeere!”

Eddie swayed on the quarry precipice, from which Steve dangled, clinging with both hands. And then with one hand. Already on his knees, Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist.

“You trying to kill me?” Black goop smeared Steve’s pale face.

“Didn’t see you, Stevie.”

“I’d got this… Jesus! My shoulder… your rings… Hurts. Oh shit, oh shit, I’m gonna die!”

Sweat beaded Steve’s brow, fingers quivering for grip as he slipped farther. Eddie squeezed tight words from gritted teeth:  “Gimme your other hand.”

It didn’t go like in movies. Steve’s efforts wrenched at Eddie’s faltering hold. Their gazes locked, pulses going apeshit in union.

“Steve, I—"

Steve plummeted into the cool twilight. Eddie’s heart dropped through his boots, falling with his boyfriend, as far as the distant splash.

Eddie stumbled blindly to the shingle shore. He saw only his final image of Steve—Steve’s horror mirroring Eddie’s own, Steve’s too-pretty mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.  Almost like when we kissed, and those times we… The sex no longer mattered. It’d been casual between them till now, when the idea of a future without Steve shredded Eddie’s soul. Worse, poor Steve! Way too young to…

Eddie whipped out a flashlight, legs numb, stomach knotted. Something crawled out of the water. Hopefully, not the demo-goat. Seconds later, he hovered over Steve, who flopped onto his back, arms flung wide.

“Holy shit.” Eddie tugged his hair, hesitating to touch Steve—fearing he’d shattered some illusion.

Steve panted hard, catching his breath. Wet, bedraggled, and incongruously adorable, his flat hair made his eyes seem huge. Then he scowled, attempted to sit. Eddie finally tumbled forward, flung his arms around him.

“You scared the shit outta me.”

“You angling for an apology?” Steve’s voice was trembly as the rest of him. “Diving that far stings like a b-bitch! Did I say I wanted a swim, Munson?”

“Sorry.” He rubbed Steve’s back

“Thought I was a g-gonner. Makes you realize… about… st-stuff.”

Eddie sniffed then pulled off his sweater, shivering himself as he wrapped it around Steve. Steve raised a weary brow. “B-body heat st-still required, Dipshit.”

Eddie enfolded him tight again, then might have sobbed as he helped Steve up. Steve proved too tired to speak, Eddie too choked, till they reached the car. Eddie dialled the heater up, touched Steve’s thigh: “Stevie, there’s something I… uh…”

“I love you, man.” Steve rested his head back, eyes fluttering closed. “Try not to nearly kill me again this week, ’kay?”

“Love you too.” Eddie tenderly stroked dripping hair from Steve’s brow, then scrambled over the gear-lever to get cosy.

[gh0stlyb34r]

Welcome to my blog!

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characters ; percy de rolo , vax'ildan , vex'ahlia , simon riley , john mactavish , john price , kyle garrick , kate laswell , steven grant , marc spector , logan howlett , wade wilson , agatha harkness , din djarin , cole cassidy , anakin skywalker , luke skywalker , 10th doctor , 15th doctor , loki , foxy , the riddler , newt scamander , obi-wan kenobi , glitchtrap , vanny , danny zuko , luther hargreeves , Ben hargreeves , Steve harrington , eddie munson

youtubers ; smii7y , blarg , bigpuffer , elasticdroid , pezzy , grizzy , warn , frogger , aspen , james marriott , willne , critical role , george clarkey , flats , kryoz , cam kirkham , sinjin drowning , dawko , game theory , gtlive , keeoh , film cooper

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other blogs

@b4bywr1t3s - fanfic blog

@royaldaycare - caregiver blog

@astrogrphx - editblr

@l0v34sp3nc3r - fandom blog (may contain nsfw themes)

@kitkatshifts - shifting blog

my tags

#╰ lo's rambles ୧ - general posts

#╰ lo creates ୧ - my creations

#╰ lo's pics ୧ - my photos

#╰ lo's f/o's ୧ - my fictional others / selfships

#🐾.lo's fictional faves - my favourite characters

#🐾. lo's fictional cgs - my fictional carefivers

#talking.🐾 - answering asks

dividers (first and last) dni banner

[francesderwent]

what is stranger things saying about the dichotomy of ordinary versus strange? it’s more complicated than you think

1x01 Hopper tries to tell Joyce that Will is probably with Lonnie, saying, "99 out of 100 times, kid goes missing, the kid is with a parent or relative." She answers, "What about the other time? You said 99 out of 100. What about the other time, the one?" Over the course of the season, her willingness to entertain unlikely options is proven correct (pro-strange)

1x02 In a flashback, Lonnie skips out on a baseball game with Will and Jonathan tells Will, “He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay? Especially not him.” (pro-strange)

1x04 Jonathan tells Nancy why he does photography: "I guess I'd rather observe people than, you know..." "Talk to them," she finishes. "I know, it's weird," he says. "No," she says. "No, it is. It's just, sometimes, people don't really say what they're really thinking. But you capture the right moment, it says more." (pro-strange; verging very slightly into anti-ordinary because Jonathan doesn't trust people to tell the truth from their own lips, he has to seek it out and capture it.)

1x05 The infamous Nancy and Jonathan scene, Nancy says why she thinks her parents got married, "I don't think my parents ever loved each other." "They must've married for some reasons," Jonathan answers. "My mom was young, my dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family." "Screw that," says Jonathan. "Yeah," Nancy agrees. "Screw that." (pro-strange, starting to creep into anti-ordinary)

1x05 Jonathan explaining what he saw in Nancy's photograph: "I saw this girl trying to be someone else, but for that moment, it was like you were alone, or you thought you were, and you know, you could just be yourself." "That is such bullshit," Nancy says, "I am not trying o be someone else just because I'm dating Steve and you don't like him." They fight, he says, "Does that mean I have to like [Steve]?" Nancy says, "No." "Jonathan says, "Listen, don't take it so personally, okay? I don't like most people. He's in the vast majority." Nancy says, "I was actually starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is." Jonathan answers, "I was just starting to think you were okay, I was thinking Nancy Wheeler, she's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac, exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing." (this is a clash of perspective; Nancy is vaguely, defensively pro-ordinary and Jonathan is pro-strange and pretty-anti-ordinary)

1x06 Eleven confesses that she opened the gate and she's the monster. Mike says, "No, El, you're not the monster. You saved me." (her powers and her difference make her a hero; pro-strange)

1x08 Steve, the boring, popular one-time jock, comes back to fight the demogorgon alongside Nancy and Jonathan. (pro-ordinary)

1x08 Mike tells Eleven that when it's all over she can have a real bed in his basement and his parents will be like her parents and Nancy will be like her sister. "I was thinking, I don't know, maybe we can go to the Snow Ball together. It's this cheesy school dance where you go in the gym and dance to music and stuff." (cheesy ordinary school stuff that Mike wouldn't have considered going to before is now a desirable ending. pro-ordinary)

so the main thrust of season 1 is strongly pro-strange. ordinary people are blind to the evil and suffering in the world, and blind to the strengths of people like El and Will. Joyce is contrasted to the perfect prim Mrs. Wheeler; where Mrs. Wheeler's comfort and advice is useless, Joyce sees the truth and saves her child. Nancy and Jonathan butt heads, but end up being an effective team. there's just a little bit of ambiguity introduced at the tail end of the season: Mike doesn't want to escape or rebel against his family, he wants to bring El into it, and wants them both to go to the Snow Ball - the epitome of ordinary - together. and ordinary, shallow Steve surprises everyone (including the writers, who'd planned to kill him off) by showing courage and selflessness when it counts.

2x01 Steve talks to Nancy about the future: "I'm just going to end up working for my dad anyway. Is that such a bad thing? There's insurance and benefits and all that adult stuff." (the scene is about Nancy's fear of following in her parents’ footsteps, and so it leans pro-strange)

2x01 Will tells Jonathan that treating him like he's fragile just makes him feel like more of a freak. "You're not a freak," Jonathan tells him. "Yeah, I am. I am," Will answers. "You know what, you're right," Jonathan says. "You are a freak, but what? Do you want to be normal? Do you wanna be just like everyone else? Being a freak is the best, I'm a freak." "Is that why you don't have any friends?" Will asks. "I have friends, Will." "Then why are you always hanging out with me?" "Because you're my best friend, right? And I would rather be best friends with Zombie Boy than with a boring nobody. You know what I mean? Okay, look, who would you rather be friends with? Bowie, or Kenny Rogers." Will grimaces. "Exactly, it's no contest," Jonathan says. "The thing is, nobody normal every accomplished anything meaningful in this world. Got it?" "Well," Will says thoughtfully, "some people like Kenny Rogers." Bob, passing by in the hallway, says "Kenny Rogers? I love Kenny Rogers!" (strongly pro-strange, strongly anti-ordinary)

2x02 Nancy and Steve fight about whether to tell Barb's parents the truth or keep on pretending everything's alright. Steve says, "It's hard, but let's just go to Tina's stupid party, wear our stupid costumes that we've been working on for a stupid amount of time, and just pretend like we're stupid teenagers, okay?" (this scene is ambiguous, leaning pro-strange, because they both use the language of "pretend"--ordinariness is all a performance, a lie)

2x02 Bob asks Joyce, "What if we were to move out of Hawkins together? I was thinking about what you said, we have all these memories here and you wish you had enough money to move. My parents are selling their house in Maine, there's a Radio Shack nearby I'm sure they'd take me on. We could just..." He sees Joyce's reaction, and says ruefully, "My turn to be silly now." "No, it's just so hard to explain," she says. "It's just this...this is not a normal family." "It could be," Bob says. (this scene is ambiguous, leaning pro-strange. Bob means well but Joyce doesn't see his hopes as possible or realistic given the complications of their life)

2x02 Nancy drunkenly accuses Steve in the bathroom, "You're bullshit. You're pretending like everything's okay, you know, like we didn't...like we didn't kill Barb. Like it's great. Like we're in love, and we're partying." Steve echoes, "Like we're in love?" Nancy says venomously, "It's bullshit." Steve asks, "You don't love me?" (the scene is mostly pro-strange, but with a little ambiguity injected because we can see how much this hurts Steve)

2x02 Will tells Mike about his episodes, Mike tells Will about feeling like he sees Eleven. "I don't know, sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy," Mike says. "Me, too," Will says. "Hey, well, if we're both going crazy, then we'll go crazy together, right?" Mike says. "Yeah, crazy together," Will agrees. (pro-strange)

2x03 Nancy and Jonathan discuss the burden of carrying on after loss. "Maybe things just can't go back to the way they were," Jonathan says. "Doesn't that make you mad?" Nancy asks. (ambiguous! "the way things were" being possibly gone forever is a loss, according to Nancy.)

2x05 Bob deciphers Will's drawings, saving Hopper's life. (pro-ordinary)

2x06 Murray tells Nancy, "Probably, like everyone, you're afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for who you really are, and retreated back to the safety of...name? Name!" "Steve," Jonathan supplies. "Steve!" exclaims Murray. "We like Steve, but we don't love Steve." "We - I do!" Nancy protests. (pro-strange and anti-ordinary; Steve's only desirable characteristic is that he's safe, he's being set up as another Mr. Wheeler, the husband in another loveless marriage)

Bob tells Joyce, "I thought stuff like this happened in comic books and movies, not in Hawkins and certainly not to people like you." "Or you," she says. He chuckles, jokes, "Bob Newby, superhero." She asks if he's cold, he tells her not to worry about him. "It's not as if you didn't warn me, this is not a normal family, isn't that what you said? Kind of makes my idea of moving to Maine seem a little less crazy, doesn't it." Joyce says, "Oh, it's not crazy." (still ambiguous; Bob's heart isn't in question but it's still unclear whether he can keep up with the world he's been thrown into. his plan is to flee it, but is that admirable?)

2x07 Kali tells El, "We will always be monsters to them. Let me guess, your policeman, he also stops you from using your gifts? What you can do it incredible, it makes you very special, Jane." (pro-strange, anti-ordinary)

2x07 El tells Kali that she has to go back because her friends are in danger. Kali says, "There's nothing for you back there. They cannot save you, Jane." El answers, "No, but I can save them." (pro-strange but with nuance! the strange and the special have something to offer the ordinary)

2x08 Bob gets Joyce, Hopper, Will, and Mike out of the lab, saves all their lives. Mike tells everyone that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV club, that their teacher Mr. Clark learned everything he knows from Bob. (strongly pro-ordinary! not only is Bob a hero, but he's shown to have been just like the boys, and even though he grew up and became the epitome of normal, his legacy helps other little nerds)

so season two is more complex than season one. on the one hand, Nancy finishes the arc she started in season one: rejects Steve and chooses Jonathan, rejects ordinary and chooses strange, precisely because she sees being with Steve as buying into the whole suburban destiny that she now knows is a lie. on the other hand, the two main heroes of the season are Bob - Mr. Ordinary - and El, who rejects her sister's anti-ordinary worldview and chooses to use her strange gifts in service of her ordinary friends.

3x03 Joyce tells Hopper that the magnets can't be a coincidence, and he says "I don't think it's a joke, I think that when I asked you out, I think you got scared. I think you got scared, and now, you're inventing things. You're inventing things to get worked up about so that you can push me away, because God forbid any of us move on! Because that, that would be too much, right Joyce?" (the strange happenings are seen as an excuse to stay away from ordinary vulnerabilities; the scene is vaguely pro-ordinary, filtered through angry hungover yelling)

3x03 Dustin tries to tell Steve that he should date Robin, Steve tells him she's not his type: "For your information, she's still in school. And she's weird. She's a weirdo. And she's hyper. I don't like that she's hyper. And she did drama. That's a bad look. And she's in band? No." Dustin says, "Now that you're out of high school, which means you're technically an adult, don't you think it's time you move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?" (pro-strange)

3x07 Steve confesses to Robin on the bathroom floor, "The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like, it's somebody that I didn't even talk to in school. And I don't even know why. Maybe cause Tommy H would have made fun of me, or I wouldn't be...prom king? It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should've been hanging out with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like this summer I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she's smart. Way smarter than me. You now, she can crack, like, top secret Russian codes and, you know, she's honestly unlike anyone I've ever even met before." Robin tells him he's not thinking straight, he says he's thinking a lot more clearly than normal. She says, "Look, he doesn't even know this girl, and if he did know her, like, really know her, I don't think he'd even want to be her friend." "No, that's not true, no way is that true," Steve says. (pro-strange)

3x08 Joyce re-initiates her date with Hopper, calling it what it is this time. If the world doesn't end, they deserve to celebrate. They deserve to move on. (pro-ordinary)

season three takes a step back from the focus on these themes or any themes. as in s2, Joyce tries to have the courage to seek an ordinary happy ending again, and again, experiences loss. the only person still grappling is Steve, who's coming to see more deeply the parts of "normalcy" that deserve to be rejected.

4x01 Eddie's introduction speech: "We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band or science or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets...it's forced conformity, that's what's killing the kids. That's the real monster." (pro strange, casually anti-ordinary)

4x01 Chrissy confesses to Eddie, "You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like." "Mean and scary?" he guesses. "Yeah." "Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too." (this scene is pro-strange AND pro-ordinary! neither of them is what the other thought they'd be, underneath the "freak" and "queen of Hawkins High" facade)

4x07 One's manifesto: "Why would you cry for them, Eleven, after all they did to you? You think you need them but you don't, you don't. Oh, but I know you're just scared. I was scared once, too. I know what it's like to be different, to be alone in this world. Like you, I didn't fit in with the other children. Something was wrong with me. All the teachers and the doctors said I was...broken, they said. My parents thought a change of scenery, a fresh start in Hawkins might just cure me. It was absurd. As if the world would be any different here. But then, to my surprise our new home provided a discovery and a newfound sense of purpose. I found a nest of black widows living inside a vent. Most people fear spiders, they detest them, and yet I found them endlessly fascinating. More than that, I found a great comfort in them, a kinship. Like me, they are solitary creatures and deeply misunderstood. They are gods of our world, the most important of all predators. They immobilize and feed on the weak, bringing balance and order to an unstable ecosystem. But the human world was disrupting this harmony. You see, humans are a unique type of pest, multiplying and poisoning our world, all while enforcing a structure of their own - a deeply unnatural structure. Where others saw order, I saw a straitjacket, a cruel, oppressive world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce and die. Everyone is just waiting, waiting for it all to be over, all while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness, I could not pretend. And I realized...I didn't have to. I could make my own rules. I could restore balance to a broken world. A predator, but for good....I could reach into others, into their minds, their memories. I became an explorer. I saw my parents for what they truly were. To the world, they presented themselves as good, normal people, but like everything else in this world it was all a lie, a terrible lie. They had done things, Eleven, such awful things. I showed them who they really were, I held up a mirror....To your papa, Eleven, you are just an animal, a monster, a lab rat to be tamed, but the truth is just the opposite. You are better than they are. Superior....If you come with me for the first time in your life you will be free. Imagine what we could do together. We could reshape the world, remake it however we see fit." (this is explicitly the villain’s perspective which it is clear we are not supposed to share, and so the scene circles back around to pro-ordinary. moreover El, our hero, rejects his proposal, and so we see that the heart of the strange doesn't have to be about superiority and resentment, and so it's also pro-strange)

4x08 Will's speech to Mike, about El and about himself: "These past few months she's been so lost without you. It's just, she's so different from other people, and when you're...when you're different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all, like she's better for being different. And that gives her the courage to fight on." (pro-strange & pro ordinary! ordinary Mike makes his strange loved ones feel like they belong; they fit together)

4x08 Steve's speech in the Winnebago while Fire and Rain plays: "It's silly, but I've actually...I always had this dream that I'd have this really, really big family. I'm talking like a full brood of Harringtons. Like, five, six kids?" "Six?" Nancy repeats. "Yeah, six little nuggets. Three girls, three boys. And every summer I figured all of us Harringtons we'd pack into something like this and just see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone, end up in some beachside town in California, spend a week parked in the sand, learn how to surf or something." Nancy says, "That sounds nice." "Yeah?" Steve asks. "Yeah," she says, then shakes herself and adds, "Well, um, except for the six kid part, that sounds like a total nightmare." Steve gestures around the kid-filled RV and says wryly, "If only I had some practice!" Nancy smiles, and says, "All right, fair. That's fair." (strongly pro-ordinary! but at least a little ambiguous because Nancy tries to brush it off after.)

4x09 Max hides "in the light": the Snow Ball. its ordinary goodness is a haven against the darkness, which is invisible to Vecna who can only see the evil of the world. (pro-ordinary)

4x09 Jason tells Lucas, "I was wrong about you. I never should've let you in the door." Lucas answers, "And I never should have knocked. I thought I wanted to be like you. Popular. Normal. But it turns out, normal's just a raging psychopath." (pro-strange, anti-ordinary)

4x09 El tries to get through to Vecna: "I know what [Papa] did to you. You were different, like me. And he hurt you. He made you into this. He is the monster, Henry, not you. Not you!" "You're right," Vecna answers, "you and I, we are different. And Papa did hurt me, but he was no monster. He was just a man, an ordinary, mediocre man. That is why he sought greatness in others, in you, and me. But in the end, he could not control us, he could not shape us, he could not change us. Do you not see, Eleven? He did not make me into this. You did." (this scene is more ambiguous than his previous one--it's clear we ought to reject his extreme anti-ordinary views that make him want to destroy the world, but it's less clear what we are to make of the fact that El did reshape him)

4x09 Mike's speech to El: “I love you on your good days, I love you on your bad days. I love you with your powers, without your powers. I love you for exactly who you are. You're my superhero.” (like his conversation with Will, it's both pro-strange and pro-ordinary)

4x09 El uses her powers to restart Max's heart, focusing on their happy memories together rather than any anger - her power is more than violence, it can also be beauty. (pro-strange)

season four, things are coming to a head! the "normal" townspeople are shown to be afraid of what they don't understand, and prone to blaming the wrong person just because they're different - but if we look closely, Jason isn't evil, he's just misdirected. he does want to kill Eddie, but then again all our main characters want to kill Henry, and it just so happens that they're correct about who's to blame. Jason's biases are wrong, but his intent- Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good - is very much right and in line with the message of the show. Jonathan and Nancy's forays into anti-ordinary thinking are shown to be eerily similar to that of the monster haunting them - and moreover, Jonathan's solitary ways lead to him smoking so much pot that he can't even be there for the people he does care about. El remains committed to using her powers to help her friends; she doesn't want to be a monster just because she is different. and Steve finally reveals himself as the anti-Vecna, completing his transformation into the embodiment of ordinary. his prior classification as "babysitter", an unorthodox role for a teenage boy to choose, has been replaced by a sincere desire for the most orthodox of destinies for an adult man: fatherhood.

[shieldofiron]

Set You Free

Threw this up on Ao3 too

It sounds like a joke. That thing was in his head, speaking in that stilted voice and once it was gone Billy couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop fucking talking, partially because he was scared that it would turn into the wrong voice, partially because he almost couldn’t believe he had survived.

“I don’t want him here, he hits me,” He told the nurse when his dad came to visit.

And just like that they’d barred his dad from the hospital.

Max had come by with her little boyfriends and he’d talked their ears off, half crying, about the year before, about the monster, making no fucking sense, until the littlest one with the creepy haunted doll look sat beside his bed and patted his hand.

He just couldn’t stop talking, but he had to because Harrington was apparently visiting today with his girlfriend or something.

And so he sat silently as Harrington rambled on about the mall, about some freako sounding Russians and fireworks.

“Anyway. I guess what I mean is I’m sorry, cuz I hit you with that car. And if Mike hadn’t pushed you out of the way you’d be dead, and… I’m real sorry, Hargrove,” Harrington said, “For all of it. Mike and Will are like obsessed with telling me how you saved all of us so, I just wanted you to know that… thank you. And I’m sorry.”

Billy nodded, glancing over at the girl who hadn’t said a peep.

“So you forgive me?” Harrington glanced up with those pretty puppy dog eyes.

Billy nodded again, biting his tongue.

“Great!” Harrington nodded, “I’ll go down and get us some coffee or something, and then we can all catch up. Robin, coffee?”

“Black,” Robin nodded, “And get something that won’t make Billy hurl chunks, please.”

“Got it… uh… ginger ale?” Harrington looked at him.

“Just water. I’m missing like ten miles of intestine or some shit,” Billy grumbled.

Harrington blinked, startled, “Right.”

He left with a few of those kicked puppy dog glances, and then Billy was alone with the girlfriend. Robin. The thing is he kind of liked her before she became Steve’s girlfriend.

“I liked you too. And I’m not, by the way,” She folds her hands in her lap, “Steve’s girlfriend.”

Stupid talking thing.

“You’re kind of interesting, Billy Hargrove,” She smiled, and then she frowned.

They just kind of stared at each other, until sweat started to form on his brow.

“Don’t tell him I’m gay,” He blurted out at last.

He knew it, she knew it. Caught him and Tommy having a… moment under the bleachers a million years ago. Billy used to see big poufy band geek uniforms in his nightmares for weeks, but she never said anything.

“I wouldn’t,” She shook her head.

“But I might,” Billy growled, “You gotta keep him away from me, girlfriend or no.”

“Why?” She wrinkled her nose.

“I’m… gay?” He almost scoffed. What was she not getting?

“Okay. Again. Why would Steve have to keep away from you?”

“It’s fucking… wrong. Wrong to have feelings for him. Disgusting pervert shit ok,” Billy frowned, “I told Max he shouldn’t come.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Billy bit his lip so hard he thought he might draw blood.

“The kids too. Everyone should just stay away.”

“Even me?” She shuffled in her seat, “Is it dangerous for me?”

He glanced at her, not sure what she was saying. Why didn’t people just say what they meant?

“Listen, I don’t really know what happened to you, but I think you staying away from everyone and everything is kind of what got you into this shit in the first place,” She shrugged. “Just sayin’”

“That’s not why it happened,” Billy muttered.

“Then what happened?”

“I was… trying,” Billy’s throat felt right but he pushed through it, “To be normal. And it didn’t work, because I’m fucked.”

“I don’t think you’re fucked. And I don’t think…” Robin scooted forward, taking his hand, “Look. I don’t think you’re evil or anything.”

“I killed people and I have a gay crush on your friend.”

“Okay, that fucking thing killed people and people get fucking crushes every day,” She shook her head. “It’s not a crime.”

“It kind of is.”

“Only to cops,” She rolled her eyes.

He exhaled, “fine. I still kind of like you.”

“Same to you, Billy Hargrove,” She patted his arm, “just remember. The truth will set you free. Maybe Steve won’t think you’re evil either, you know.”

Billy was about to answer when Harrington swung into the door, “The nurses said you could have one of these dinner rolls too.”

“Course you fucking charmed the nurses,” Billy grumbled, “They fucking hate me.”

Harrington just laughed, gamboling in like a happy puppy and setting up Billy’s table.

“The truth,” Robin mouthed over a fluffy cloud of brown hair, “Will set you free.”

[o0oooooo0o]

uttara bhadrapada is all about honing that cool crystal center within. ppl will find that in association with these natives “most” is the word you will often see next to their name and not always in a socially acceptable way. These natives leave behind gifts to humanity transcending the boundaries of good and evil.

‧₊˚✩彡 🙀

-losing people close to you

-inhumanism

-aliens

-synth

-being non pc

-extreme wealth and 💸💸💸💸💸

-reptilian beings (dragons, snakes,…)

-aquatic beings (mermaids)

-cold, frigid, aloofness, indifference, apathy

-loneliness, disconnect

-underworld

-fantasy

-collateral damage

-humanity

-secret societies

-control & restriction

-evolution

-mysticism

-combat

-self-mastery/sovereign

-warrior

-reluctant leader

-burden

-deep space, the unknown

-two faced

-blue/iridescent/chromatic/purple

-eccentricity

-cyberpunk

-conspiracy

-high technology

-destiny & fate

-neptune

-pluto

-Lakshmi

-ketu

-jupiter

-funeral

-inertia

-legacy

-skeletons in the closet

-in plain sight

-contradiction

-transformation

-war

-cosmic rain

-drugs/psychedelics

-healers

-ouroboros

-fertility

-treasure

-stoners

-female cow

-plastic surgery

-victimhood

-delusion

-manipulation

-the end

-transcendence

-the chosen one

-apex saturnino

-being ahead of your time/creating something timeless

-aristocracy

-anger

-doomsday

-out of touch

-dreams

-dissolution

-destruction

-innocence

-cunning

-isolation

-limitless

-apotheosis

-ascension

-kundalini awakening

-Pegasus

-Andromeda

-evil

-genius

-tamasic

-cold blooded

-ethereal essence

-uncanny valley

-alienation

-abandoning humanity

-fixed

-void

-darkness

-time

-being the brain/face of capitalism ngl

-prophecy

-elongation

-escapism

-what remains

-liberation

-the ocean

-for the greater good

-tying together future/present/past

-being afforded a greater, more terrible purpose

Grimes sun & moon in uttara bhadrapada

OTHER NOTABLE NATIVES:🦄

-rihanna

-hillary clinton

-kim kardashian

-anya taylor joy

-antonio banderas

-rose

-taeyeon

-rooney mara

-gemma ward

-rick owens

-jin

-felix

-tyra banks

-salma hayek

-daniel radcliffe

-joaquin phoenix

-rebecca ferguson

-lil kim

-Luca Guadagnino

-sujan stevens

-janet jackson

-steve jobs

-bill gates

-catherine zeta-jones

-andré leon talley

-anna wintour(*)

-eugenia cooney

-ash stymest

-blac chyna

-travis barker

-jane lynch

-IU

-tupac

-jason statham

-riley keough

-wiz khalfia

- jay park

-timothee chalamet

-samantha morton

-Josh McDermitt

-anton riize

-belle kiss of life

-muammar al gaddafi

-ni-ki

-sullyoon

-king krule

-aidan gillen

-josh o’connor

-salvador dalí

-sophie turner

-hayao miyazaki

-john galliano

-ed sheeran

-kendall jenner

-jessica white

-choi woo-shik

-tom brady

-anne rice

-russel brand

-Satoru Gojo

-Shri Ramanujan

-novak djokovic

-alek wek

-nick offerman

-steve-o

-song kang-ho

-lucy lawless

-cheng xiao

-enya umanzor

-jenny slate

-nicholas hoult

-isabelle huppert

-soobin

-bladee

-dev patel

-Roselyn Sánchez

-james cameron

-city of los angeles

-harry potter

-wanda maximoff

-iron man/tony stark

❌

-jeffrey e*stein

////(disclaimer, lowkey i’m pretty good at guessing between naks but i can’t say for sure that they r ubp moon some of these r just my own intuition/pattern recognition/symbolism unless their birth time is confirmed and i can flat out get their placements wrong but also ppl lie even about their birthday so it is what it is)

///*I will keep updating this list

UBP SUN:🦄

yuji itadori

lykke li

irene

alexander mcqueen (ubp sun+rahu)

lisa (ubp sun+venus+ketu) +saturn*mercury in revati

quentin tarantino (sun+mercury+jupiter)

cha eunwoo (sun+venus+ketu+saturn)

lady gaga

mina

lee pace

ethel cain

celine dion

diana ross

yasmeen ghauri ubp sun c mercury revati

mariah carey ubp sun c rahu *mercury pisces pbp

eren yeager

keira knightly

steven tyler

MOON RULED BY UBP:🦄

karina (revati sun c ubp mercury+venus gemini moon ruler ubp mercury)

jamie campbell bower (bharani moon ruled by ubp mars)

UBP ASC:🦄

lucy lawless (sun+moon+asc)

brie larson

che guevara

billie eilish

shakira+venus

KETU IN UBP:🦄

zoe saldana

bella hadid +ubp saturn

jaehyun +ubp saturn lagnesh saturn in ubp

fernanda ly

RAHU IN UBP:🦄

abbey lee kershaw

ASC RULER IN UBP:🦄

zendaya (cap asc ruled by ketu+saturn in ubp)

[creepyclothdoll]

We don’t take kindly to outsiders 

around here, pardner,” said the grizzled and sunburnt face. 

“... Darryl Choi?” I said. But it couldn’t be. 

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” the man tipped that face up at me and I saw his familiar dark eyes clearly under his dusty cowboy hat. 

“You’re dead,” I blurted. The cowboy stood and drained his sarsaparilla. 

“This outsider botherin’ ya, Smokes?” the bartender said, polishing a glass behind the gas station counter, which had been apparently repurposed as a saloon bar. There were still vape cartridges and 5-hour-energy drinks on the shelf behind him, gathering dust next to bottles of unlabeled brown liquor and oil lamps. 

“I’m not an outsider,” I argued. “This is my hometown. I took your niece London to prom, Mr. Jarocki.” The bartender narrowed his eyes at me. 

“Name’s Ben Wiley Sr to you,” he said, frowning under his huge white handlebar mustache. “Now, your money’s as good as anyone else’s, kid, but after you quench yer thirst, you better take that steel horse you rode in on and ride along yonder, if you know what’s good for yeh.”

“Yonder?!” I said. “What the hell is going on? This is Massachusetts. Is this a bit?”

The five other cowboys in the gas station, who were all sitting around makeshift tables that had been hammered together from pieces of the Holiday station shelving, stopped their card game and glared at me. One of them reached for his sidearm. 

Darryl clapped his hand around my shoulder.

“Settle down, boys,” he said. “This here fella’s kin, he just don’t know it yet. Sit down, pardner, and I’ll tell my tale.”

“I just came in to pay for gas. The thingy wasn’t working outside,” I said. “I’m actually late to my mom’s memorial service right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, son.”

“It’s my mom’s–”

“Sit down.” 

I sat down. The plastic chair squeaked. Mr Jarocki brought me a stein of sasparilla. 

“Folks ‘round here, y’see… we ain’t afraid o’ death no more,” Darryl said. He lit his pipe. Red embers lit his dark eyes. “I met death. He’s a ten-cent man.” Darryl stared through the Holiday station windows past the gas pump and toward the horizon of Peabridge, Massachusetts. 

In 2016, Darryl Choi had been crushed to death by a semi on his way home from UMass Amherst. He was the first friend I ever lost. His death had hit me hard. We weren’t as close as I was with some of my other friends, but we’d cut class a couple of times to vape by the creek and trade Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I didn’t think he could grow facial hair, but he had a lot of it now. 

“Y’ever heard of Pet Semetary?” Darryl asked.

“Yeah, I saw the movie,” I said. “And the remake.” 

“Well, turns out, we got one of those.”

I stared incredulously. If I hadn’t been at Darryl Choi’s funeral, I wouldn’t have believed him. 

“Okay,” I said. 

“Basically, it works just like in ol’ Steve King’s account. You die, they put you in there, you come back wrong. First time they tried it with a person, it was Christina Elspeth, the old schoolmarm.”

“Oh no, Mrs Elspeth died?”

“It don’t matter now,” Darryl grunted. “Listen. They put the schoolmarm in the cemetery and the next day she was crawling back all fulla murderous rage n’ such, same as the dogs n’ cats n’ fish, but worse. Spoutin’ all kinds of vileness. So her husband shot her in the head.”

“Mr Elspeth?!?” 

“Not before she cut him real good across the belly, though. The ol’ fella bled out right quick in his flower garden. So they buried both of ‘em in the Semetary-whatsit again, on account of the headstone already bein’ paid for.”

Mr Elspeth was my youth pastor. He always snuck us leftover communion bread and we’d eat it with marshmallow fluff. I didn’t even know he had a gun.

“So another day passed, and, well, the two of ‘em sprung back outta that dirt mound. Mr Elspeth had come back ‘wrong,’ just like his missus before him– all evil and such. But Mrs Elspeth came back even wronger. Turns out, there’s a step down below ‘evil.’ I’m talkin’ downright… well, sorta like those red fellers we used to play at killin’ as youngsters in that movin’ picture game.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Darryl,” I said. “Can you drop the cowboy accent?”

Darryl glared at me.

“Folks call me Smokes these days,” he said. “Smokes Barlow. Wilbur Lee Barlow if you’re a lawman.”

“I’m not gonna call you Wilbur Lee Barlow,” I said.

“Naw, you’ll call me Smokes, like everyone else,” he replied smoothly. 

“Resident Evil?” I said.

“... Huh?”

“The red zombies from Resident Evil, is that what you were talking about earlier?”

Smokes shrugged.

“Anyhow, the two of ‘em went on a killin’ spree round here. And I guess word got out about the cursed boneyard– everyone and their mother, I mean the ones who survived, hoped maybe their kin would be the exception to the rule. So more n’ more bodies went in the mound, and each of ‘em came out as evil as the last. ‘Cept for Mrs Elspeth, who came back worse for wear.”

“They put her back? Again?”

“Well, see, the headstone had been paid for. So Mrs Elspeth comes back and she’s still spittin’ hell’s worst curses and hankerin’ for a stabbin’, but now she’s also sort of a mad scientist sort. So she breaks into the hospital n’ starts grafting people’s limbs together–”

“Hang on. What the hell do you mean she’s a mad scientist sort?” I said. “She was a music teacher?”

“Well, see, that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. She’s running around, hair all crazy, in a stolen lab coat, rantin’ and ravin’ about man playing god and splicing DNA and such, creating humanity’s next evolution and such. So eventually the hospital staff knock her out and toss her back in the hole. Next time she came back, she was a 19th century venture capitalist named Montgomery Prescott III who aimed to turn Peabridge into a factory town.”

“Sorry, when did this all happen?”

“‘Course, by this time, her husband was on his third resurrection too, so Prescott was a force to be reckoned with with the power of science behind him. The two of ‘em did a bang-up job whippin’ this place into shape, corralling all the zombies n’ throwing em in the hole, y’know, for science, and to see if they could monetize it. Prescott Mining & Scientific Enterprise un-buried all the dead from the regular ol’ graveyard and tossed ‘em in the hole, myself included. Then, when they came back, they put all those evil folks to work in the mines, or in the lab.”

“Now those mines were dangerous, of course, with all the coal dust and gas leaks… Prescott didn’t give a damn about safety. Lotta folks died. But they’d just bring ‘em back. A couple weeks in, though, and there were about twenty Montgomery Prescott III’s and about a hundred mad scientists running around, and it turns out, Monty Prescott works for no man. Each of ‘em enlisted a squad of mad scientists and started their own enterprise. Wasn’t too long before they started assassinating the competition. At this point, we’d all just gotten used to throwin’ people in the hole.

“Turns out, after Prescott, you come back as kind of a Dracula. Now I won’t go into all that business– you know ‘Salem’s Lot?”

“No? Is that a gang?”

“What about that there Catholic picture show up there on the Netflix, the one on the island, put together by that Irish feller? Michael somethin. O’Flanagan.”

“Mike Flanagan? Midnight Mass?”

Smokes smiled.

“There ya go. It was all pretty much like that.”

I looked around at the gas station. Other than the restructuring that had transformed it from a regular Holiday gas station into a cowboy saloon, it looked like this place had been through waves of disasters. There were bullet holes all over the ceiling, a massive rusty brown stain that someone had tried to scrub out with lye on the linoleum, burn marks on the walls with strange curling imprints of what looked like vines and needles… 

“I’m guessing that ‘everyone is vampires’ didn’t last long,” I said.

“It just ain’t sustainable,” Smokes shook his head. “Vampires always think it’s a smart idea to make everyone vampires, but, see, it just don’t work out. What do they eat? Turns out, they don’t. They starve. Then it’s back in the hole.” “So things carried on like that for awhile. At a certain point, we were just chuckin’ people in there to see if there was an end point, y’know, how far this thing goes. Turns out, it goes Evil, Mindless Zombie, Mad Scientist, Montgomery Prescott III, Master Vampire, Ghoul, Skeleton Warrior, Skeleton Jazz Musician, Man-eating Plant, Plant-eating Man– or a Vegan, I guess you’d call him, and a real sonofabitch– Haunted Ventriloquist, Haunted Dummy, Haunted Mummy, Christian Family Vlogger, ‘Edna,’ Evil Cowboy, Zombie Cowboy, Plant Cowboy, ‘Edna’ again, then just regular ol’ pure Cowboy.”

“What comes after Cowboy?” I asked.

Smokes shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just Cowboy all the way down after that.”

The cowboys playing poker glanced up at me through clouds of tobacco smoke. I recognized some of these people from around town. Or, rather, I recognized who they used to be.

“So… my mom’s memorial… she’s not really dead, is she?” I said, a wave of hope and relief overwhelming me. “I thought I’d have to say goodbye to her today. But she’ll be back, won’t she?”

Smokes only smiled sadly.

“You won’t find fuel for your steel carriage, pardner,” said Smokes. “I’ll give you a ride to the cemetary.”

I followed Smokes out to the parking lot, where several horses were hitched. 

“Where did you guys get all these horses?” I asked.

“Oh, where there’s cowpokes, there’s horses,” he replied. “That’s a rule of nature.” Smokes fed the horse an apple and stroked her mane before bidding me to climb on behind him. I held onto his waist, which was pretty weird for me because we were never close like that, and we galloped off up the highway toward the middle of town. 

We passed the elementary school, which had been covered in radiation warning signs and barbed wire. Then we passed the old Coney Island restaurant, which had been converted to a one-room schoolhouse. Main Street’s restaurants, law firms, and tattoo parlor had been replaced by a Dry Goods store, an ox stable, a wagoner, an apothecary– the barber was the same, but it looked like he also pulled teeth now.

The park that I played in as a kid had been bulldozed to hell, and in its place was a brown dirt yard with scattered mounds and holes all clustered near the center. A new sign hung over the entrance on a wooden board: Lazarus Mound Cemetary.

“I guess we coulda been more creative,” Smokes said. “But it’s too late for couldas, I reckon.”

A group of cowboys, clad in black, stood over a dirt pile. They held their hats to their chest as the eulogy was read. Smokes followed me to my mother’s fresh grave. I dropped my bouquet of flowers on top of it. 

“Family only,” said one of the cowboys, glaring at me.

“Uncle Matt, it’s me,” I said. He twirled his goatee and grimaced, revealing a new gold tooth. 

“It’s Billy ‘Cobra’ Nash these days,” he said. “Didn’t recognize ya, son. I s’pose you want to say a few words,” he gestured to the mound.

“Well, I would,” I said, “But I’m pretty sure she’ll pop out halfway through.”

“That’s no way to talk about your poor dead mother,” said Great-Grandma Tess, who I hadn’t seen since 2004, when she died from stroke. Except she wasn’t Great-Grandma Tess. She was a short old man with a long rabbity mustache and two guns on either side. 

“Let the kid grieve, Slim,” said Cobra.

The sun set on us. The resurrected cowboy versions of my family members became hungry and bored, and set up a small campfire where they heated up coffee and beans, and spun some yarns. I asked questions about the cowboy economy and how it could sustain itself in this Massachusetts town that didn’t have that many cows, and they responded by cussing me out and telling me to get lost, city boy. I said I couldn’t be a city boy because I was from here, and they took away my beans.

Finally, after about an hour, there was rustling from the mound. 

“Here she comes,” said Cobra.

The dirt shuffled and ran down the side of the mound, a miniature landslide. Finally, a gloved hand emerged. Then an arm. A dirty, dusty head, crowned in a cowboy hat, burst from the pile, coughing. 

“Well, butter my biscuits, if it ain’t The Cheat, just in time for dinner,” said Slim, hands on his hips. 

My mom, who was now a dirt-covered cowboy named The Cheat, clicked his boots together to dislodge some stones from his spurs. 

“Howdy. Miss me, fellas?” The Cheat rasped, spitting pebbles into the fire. 

“Mom?” I said. The Cheat looked me over. 

“They call me Vernon ‘The Cheat’ Maddox now,” my mom said.

“Why Maddox?” I asked. “Mom, what was wrong with Nguyen?”

“Ain’t a cowboy name,” said Mom. 

“A cowboy can’t be Vietnamese?”

“Listen, kid,” said The Cheat, clapping me on the arm. “I’ve had a long day, and to be frank, I can’t abide a city slicker like you before I get my brew. Gotta fill up on beans n’ coffee or I’ll be skinner than a jazz skeleton in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

I watched my mom walk away toward the fire, greeting the other cowboys like old friends.

“It’s like she didn’t even recognize me,” I said, broken.

Smokes patted me on the shoulder. 

“That ain’t your mother no more, pardner,” he said. “Same as I ain’t Darryl Choi.” “What’s the point of raising people from the dead if they’re not themselves?” I said. 

“I reckon you’ve missed the essential theme of the Pet Semetary premise,” Smokes said. “The point is, it’s a curse, not a blessing. To the living, at least. Mister Stephen King said sometimes dead is better. And here in Peabridge, we reckon he was right.”

I heard a metal click. I turned around to see Smokes’ shotgun pointed square at my forehead.

“Whoa,” I said. The cowboys at the fire turned to watch with dim interest, including my own mother. “Darryl, hey, put that away.”

“Dead is better. But you know what’s best? Cowboy,” he said. “Cowboy is the best there is.”

“Best there is,” said the cowpokes around the fire in eerie unison. 

“Wait, wait, wait–” there was a bang. My vision filled with red, and then there was nothing. I saw and felt and heard nothing as Smokes watched my limp body fall backwards into the hole. He kicked dirt over me casually. He holstered his weapon. He sat down around the fire, next to the others.

“How many bullets ya got, Smokes?” asked The Cheat through a mouthful of beans.

“Not enough to get him all the way through,” Smokes replied, lighting his pipe. “But enough to get him past Dracula, for sure.”

“That’s the one you gotta watch out for,” The Cheat said. “I’ll stand vigil with ya, pardner.”

“You go home, Maddox, wash that dust off, tend to your herd. Be on the lookout for Edna– word is she’s still at large in places,” Smokes said. 

“She’ll come around,” said Slim. “They always do.”

The campfire’s embers rose up to the cloudy, dark sky. Smokes leaned back and tipped his hat low over his eyes.

“This town’s got room for plenty more cowboys,” he said. Around the fire, a dozen pairs of black, gleaming eyes turned toward the Lazarus Mound, waiting.