#i’m sooo sick about them so normal

[neometalsilver]

gay people are real i just saw them on my screen

[nanaslutt]

so i just read like… ALL your gojo stuff.

now imagine… gojo not being able to hold back and wanting to breed you after you both try those aphrodisiac chocolates… ahem…

i am absolutely terrified of getting pregnant yet have the words most insufferable breeding kink, we exist

Contains: fem reader, aphrodisiacs, masturbation, no prep, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, SOOO much dirty talk, praise, so much cum.., whiped!gojo, established relationship

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Gojo was talking soooo much shit when you sent him a link to some aphrodisiac chocolates you saw online. He would not stop dismissing that they didn’t actually work; saying none of that shit that advertised any kind of enhancement in sexual arousal ever did.

So of course you had to order the chocolates and really test it for yourselves, making a challenge out of it.

If the chocolates truly had an effect, gojo would do whatever you wanted, and if they didn’t? vice versa. Gojo was game, of course; because he didn’t think anything would happen.

“Bleh- they taste like shit too,” Satoru grimaced, chasing the horrible flavor with a strawberry soda.

“That’s probably because there’s something in them satoru…like the aphrodisiac…,” you shook you head, swallowing the bitter chocolate.

“Orrrr; crazy thought; it’s just some cheap chocolate marketed as aphrodisiacs to make a ton of money off of people like us.” he drawled, throwing his hands up in the air and waving them around when he spoke.

“I really thought you out of all people would find this kind of thing fun satoru.” you said, trying to push his buttons a bit.

“We’ll of course, chocolate and sex? I’m all over that,” he said making you laugh, “but me and suguru tried something like this for fun back in our student days, it was some kind of pill though,” his face twisted in discomfort as he spoke, “just ended up making us super sick tho, yaga got pissed, heh” he laughed, remembering the memory.

“Knowing you two it was probably some cheap boner pill you got in a sketchy bag at the convenience store.. so that might explain it.” you snorted,

He rubbed his big hand over the back of his neck, “yeah, there was like 5 other pills in the bag with it now that I think about it..” he said quietly, making you hunch over in a laugh.

The two of you went about your evening like normal, watching some comedy movie that was on and cuddling together on the sofa. When it ended you went off to change into something more comfortable as you started off to finished the laundry.

You haven’t felt anything extremely out of the ordinary yet; remembering that the package said it might take long for women to feel the affects; but gojo on the other hand was feeling mildly uncomfortable.

His face and neck were feeling warm, throughout the entire movie his big hand was placed on your upper thigh, like always. What was unusual though, was how his skin tingled when he placed it on yours, palms sweating more than usual; he just chalked it up to all the junk he had been eating throughout the day, probably upsetting his body.

When you moved back into the kitchen and started on the dishes the two of you had created in the sink, Gojo couldn’t help but hyper focus on the fat off your ass peeking out of your night shorts.

The way you moved your hips as some r&b music played quietly from the tv. He watched your muscles and tendons move together when you twisted your body around, watching your ankles cross; one behind the other; getting comfortable from where you stood.

Satoru was feeling hot all over now, a large hand coming down to grope himself over his pants when you bent over to put the dishes into the washer, poking out your clothed mound towards him, the fabric of your shorts squeezing your curves just right.

His jaw dropped slightly, breathing heavier as he got off on watching you do such a mundane task like the dishes.

You inserted the pod into the dishwasher, completely oblivious to satoru’s shenanigans as you stood up straight. You noticed when washing your hands that you were starting to feel a warmth washing over your body, and a sort of warm coil tightening in your tummy.

The lightbulb went off in your head when you realized it was probably the work of the chocolates. You quickly shut off the water, towel is hand as you whipped your head behind you to tell gojo what was happening to you; and to inform him that you were going to win this challenge.

Your motions were stopped short as you bumped straight into gojos chest, “Oh! Didn’t realize you were-“ Your words getting cut off when gojo grabbed the bottom of your face, bringing your lips to his, and kissing you hungrily.

Gojo used his other had to slide his arm around your body, pressing you hard into him, letting you feel his erection against your tummy.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your words that tried to excape, “Sa-mm- Satoru-“ you got out between kisses. Gojo shoved his knee between your legs, putting delicious pressure on your cunt as he kissed you like it was his last day on earth.

You had to grip his hair and pull his face off of you to speak, this didn’t really phase him as he targeted your neck instead, biting and sucking on the skin there, “Fuck- s-satoru slow down-“ you moaned when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Cant, need you-“ he spoke in between his rushed love bites on your neck, moving his big hands to hold your hips as he made you rock your cunt back and forth along this thigh.

Your head was spinning a mild a minute, still trying to wrap your head around the current situation. You expected this to happen; being on the side of ‘pro aphrodisiacs and all; you just didn’t expect it to happen so soon, and for it to have such a strong effect on someone like Satoru.

“S-shit- those chocolates have you m-more worked up than me,” you tried to laugh, voice cut short by a moan when his knee nudged your clit at a particularly mouthwatering angle.

“Need to be inside you,” he ignored you, groaning against your pulse point, hot breath tickling your neck when he spoke.

Gojo was breathing so heavily, his cock feeling like it was about to rip a hole in his pants at how hard he was. “Take em off, now-“ he whimpered, referring to your bottoms as he started pulling them down your legs, panties following suit.

You helped him, gripping his hair and keeping his lips pressed against your neck while you kicked off your shorts off from around your ankles . His hands dropped down to remove his own sweats, too impatient to fully take them off as he pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring out, jerking himself off with one hand rapidly between you; hand holding your hip with his other.

“Let me put it in, please, need to be inside you now-“ he groaned, finally pulling back from your neck; and he looked absolutely wrecked.

This whole situation was giving you whiplash, but you felt bad for him. Satoru’s hands were shaking, face flushed completely crimson, and he was sweating and panting like he just ran a marathon.

He continued stroking his cock, eyes flirting between your pussy and your pretty lips while he waited for them to move, voicing your consent.

His cock was dripping so much pre it looked like he already came. Hard cock still dripping steadily onto his hand and fingers, making his strokes emit loud ‘plp’ sounds into the air.

“Yes, please, give it to me toru,” you spoke, making him let out a moan of satisfaction. You wrapped your arms around his neck when he lifted you suddenly, burring your hands in his hair and face in his neck as he slid his dick into you with zero prep, all at once.

You were greatful the aphrodisiac was in affect, making you so much wetter than normal, and in turn, making the stretch a whole less painful then it would’ve been without it.

You whined at how his massive clock split you in half effortlessly, “Sorry baby- m’ sorry-“ he apologized with a groan against your bruised neck; whatever consciousness he still had left being aware that that might’ve hurt you.

“Shit it’s o-okay toru, just give it to me- fuck-“ You tipped your head back, jaw dropping and releasing a loud whine, giving him more access to mark up your neck while he fucked into you like a mad man; legs dangling over his arms as he held you in his strong grasp, hoisting you up and down on his cock like you weighed nothing to him.

“Holy fuckkk” he whined, vibrations going through your skin, “Need to fill you up, need to fuck you full of my cum s-shit-“ Gojo was working himself up with his words, already on the brink of his orgasm only a couple thrusts in.

He was truly using you like a cocksleve as he fucked into you at an inhumane pace, heavy balls slapping against your ass, strings of your combined wetness connecting to your ass each time he thrusted inside.

He sucked harder against your skin as he felt his first high rapidly approach him. His eyes repeatedly rolling back in his skull at the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy around him.

“Shitshitshit- gonna c-cum, need you to take it all f’me” his deep voice reverberated through you, all you could do is cry and moan our strings of his name and “yesyesyes” while he fucked his first load of the night into you.

“T-take it f-fucking take it yessss” Gojo felt like he was on cloud nine, he had never felt anything like this before. Of course he loved cumming inside you when you had sex but this was different. Every neuron in his brain was telling him to fuck load after load into you; to get you pregnant.

Gojo didn’t actually want kids right now, and you were on the pill so the possibility of him actually knocking you up was low- but not if his aphrodisiac brain had anything to say about it; he would make sure to fucking try.

Ignoring the overstimulation he felt as he humped his cum into you with heavy thrusts, quickly picking up his speed again when he finished spurting the warm ropes of cum into you, making you squeal at his quick recovery.

“Pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking wet sh-itttt” he groaned, dick twitching and abs clenching as he fucked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, sending him straight twords another one.

“T-toru o-oh my god-“ you wimpered, body flopping around limply at the intense pleasure. His cock was drilling straight into your sweet spot and making you dizzy. You tried not to pass out as he manhandled your body, gripping you roughly and marking up your skin everywhere his insatiable lips could reach.

“Gonna knock you up baby- g-gunna give you my babies- get you fucking pregnant, yeah? you want that?” you cut off his filthy mouth by using the grip you had on his head to press his mouth against yours.

“Yesyesyes, give me your babies toru- gonna make you a daddy-“ he groaned into your mouth at your mutual need for him to fill you up.

Gojo felt drunk hearing the nickname bounce around inside his head. Gojo never thought he had a daddy kink, but in this scenario? The nickname had him feeling like he was about to come again already.

By this point, the aphrodisiac was affecting you just as much as it was him, everywhere his body touched yours felt like your skin was on fire. You tried not to lose your sanity as he was pushing your towards your first orgasm without so much as even grazing your clit.

He set you down on the ground and in one swift movement spun you around so you were facing the counter. Satoru used his massive had to grab hold of his cock, slipping it back into your drenched walls.

You both groaned in unison at the sensation. Gojo gave you both a couple seconds to relish in the feeling, pressing his balls hard against your ass before he picked up his same ruthless pace as before.

“Good fucking girl- gonna look so fucking pretty with ur belly all round with my baby shiiit” he groaned when he felt your cunt clench around him at the idea.

He brought his massive palm down feeling your cunt squeeze him, leaving a heavy spank against your ass and gripping the fat between his fingers.

“Pussy tryna fuckin’ milk me down here” he laughed, biting his lip when he watched your hand come down to rub your clit in quick circles, “Yeaahhh fucking touch your pussy for me baby, make urself cum all over my dick while i fill you up.” he instructed, clenching his jaw.

“Shit- g-give it to me daddy- cum inside me-” you mindlessly babbled, there you go again with that fucking nickname that had his balls tightening.

You feet the coil wind itself up quicker than normal at your enhanced sexual arousal from the chocolate and the now added stimulation of touching your neglected clit.

“Come with me baby, gotta feel you cum around me- please” he begged, leaving another loud slap against your ass before pulling you back on his dick roughly by your hips.

“S -shit it’s coming it’s coming i’m- fuckfuck- ngghhh” your warned, voice cutting out as you started to come around his girth while he fucked you through it.

“yeeeeeess baby- fuuuuck- milk my fucking cock fuck-“ he watched intently as your little hole clenched around him, his first load spurting out around his cock with the pressure of your orgasm, making the white ring around the base of his dick get even messier.

“I’m coming again baby- take it for me- need you to take it all, gotta make sure it t-takes” he whined, getting you pregnant still on the forfront of his brain.

Your legs would’ve collapsed on the floor if he wasn’t holding up a majority of your weight by your hips. Your nails slid against the marble as his cock rammed against your cervix, making you dizzy, broken moans getting forced out of your mouth at the feeling of getting repeatedly impaled on his cock.

You tried to gain a little bit of brainpower back to help gojo through his orgasm just like he did for you, “y-e-sss toru’ cum inside me please- i’ll take it all- be a good girl for you-“ your voice squeaked out, words getting louder at the end with how rough his thrusts were,

He leaned over your back, pressing his sweaty chest onto you while he wrapped you in a tight bear hug, not ceasing his ruthless hips, “Need you t-to kiss me baby- go-nna be instense” he whimpered against your shoulder, waiting for you to turn your head twords him to give him access to your mouth.

When you did he wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. The two of you swallowed each others moans as his pitch got higher and higher; his tight grip was sure to leave dark bruises on your body as he held onto you for dear life at his impending orgasm.

When the coil finally snapped, he shook violently against you, hips stilling against your ass, pressing his hips as deep as he could into you while hot ropes of cum filled you up even more than his last load, making more cum spill out around him at how full you already were.

His breath was hitching into your mouth, lips doing their best to kiss you back as his jaw kept falling open as the waves of his high washed over him.

He whined and dropped his head against your shoulder when he started to come down. Gojo panted heavily against your skin, twitching in the aftershocks of his high.

“D-don’t move please” he requested, fucking his softening cock into you a couple more times to make sure his cum was as deep inside you as it could go.

“Fuck toru- feel so full right now..” you wined into the marble, wincing in overstimulation at his final few weak thrusts.

After a couple seconds he finally pulled out his cock, gulping hard as he watched his cum start to dribble out of you; making you whine at the slightly uncomfortable feeling.

He used a couple fingers to spread your pussy lips; admiring his work for a second before he used to fingers to scoop his cum back up, stuffing his thick digits back inside of you, “Gotta get that plug of yours to keep it all in,” he said, biting his lip at how soft you felt around his fingers.

“Or you could let me cockwarm you,” you giggled, turning your head back to look at him while he looked enthralled with your cunt.

“God I love you, smartest fucking girl I know.” he praised.

You fell into a fit of giggles when he scooped you up in his arms, peppering kisses onto your face while he headed twords your shared bedroom.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist while he walked, keeping them snug even when he dropped the two of you on the mattress together. Gojo’s large frame laying on top of you as he reached his hand down between you to slide his semi-hard cock back into your oversensitive walls, making you hiss at the feeling, “Sorry baby- almost in,” he promised, kissing your cheeks while he fully bottomed out.

He rolled his eyes at how warm and soft you felt around his dick, sucking soft hickeys into the crook of your neck while you pet his damp hair.

“I’ll clean you up in a second my love, promise, you just feel too good right now.” he let out a short laugh against you.

“‘S okay toru, makes me feel good too.” you tipped your head forward and pressed kisses onto the top of his scalp.

“We gotta be careful with those chocolates,” he laughed, “Might acctually knock you up one day if we keep eatin those,”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” you confessed, squeezing your legs harder around his hips.

“Dangerous words to say right now pretty girl,” he warned, smirking into your skin,

“Oh right, guess you won the bet,” he remembered, “Whacha want ur big strong boyfriend to do for you?” he asked teasingly,

“Cum inside me again, right now,” you requested after a beat, emphasizing your need by squeezing your pussy walls around him, making him inhale a sharp breath between his teeth.

“Fuck… you serious?” he smirked, lifting his head to look at you.

“Don’t keep me waiting, give me my prize toru,” you pouted your bottom lip at him, making his brain short circuit as he felt his cock twitch back to life.

You ended up taking a plan B the next morning… just in case…

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “Charlie. You know I love you, right?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “…before I answer, can I ask YOU a question?”

Vaggie: “Sure, babe. Fire away.”

Charlie: “Okay.”

Charlie: “Is this about the singing cannibal quartet love song turned massacre in the hotel lobby?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: “Is it about the supposedly non-man eating flowers that tried eating Angel Dust, which Niffty won’t let us get rid of now because she wants to train them to hunt cockroaches with her?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: “Is it about the alleged cookies Husk is still in bed recovering from taste testing?”

Vaggie: “Those were cookies?”

Charlie: “Allegedly. In a previous life maybe.”

Vaggie: “Huh. They weren’t bad.”

Charlie: “They- Vaggie, you didn’t actually EAT-”

Vaggie: “After wrestling Angel Dust out of the third flower in a row? I was hungry. The kitchen was on fire earlier so I knew you’d made something. And they were sitting in a common area, unclaimed and unlabeled.”

Charlie: “I put CAUTION TAPE around them!!”

Vaggie: “We don’t have anyone staying here named Caution or Hazardous Waste. Not yet, anyway.”

Charlie: “ARE YOU FEELING OKAY!?”

Vaggie: “Fine. This isn’t about the uh, ‘alleged cookies’.”

Charlie: “Well then what is it about? Am I forgetting something else?”

Vaggie: “Maybe. Are you gonna answer my question now?”

Charlie: “Of course I know you love me, Vaggie. Absolutely."

Vaggie: "Then-"

Charlie: "A dangerous amount, even- you sure you’re feeling alright? Those cookies... poor Husk…”

Vaggie: “Husk is on average 40% alcohol and not used to solid foods. This was a good learning experience for him, trust me.”

Charlie: “I do! I do I do, I just, also really hope Angel Dust knows how to BE an actual bedside nurse as well as DRESS like one. A. Sexy one.”

Vaggie: “We’ll save Husk from medical malpractice in a minute. Right now though…”

Vaggie: (smooch the tol gf)

Charlie: “?”

Vaggie: “You don’t have to do extra things like this, sweetie.”

Charlie: “Oh.”

Vaggie: “Not that I didn’t love the thought behind it.”

Charlie: “There were no thoughts. Just, wow I love my girlfriend, wow I really hope she knows I love her.”

Vaggie: “I do. You’re amazing, and doing normal hotel crisis things with you is already amazing enough.”

Charlie: (droops) “I know, I know…”

Vaggie: “So?”

Charlie: “Well that’s the THING though! We’ve only been doing hotel stuff!”

Vaggie: “It’s a pretty wide range of activities you gotta admit.”

Charlie: “Oh sure right, sooo varied- stop a murder, fight to stop a murder, try not to do a murder, replace THIS fix THAT organize another group talk and go into red alert whenever the things get suspiciously quiet- go collect the bodies, probably reassemble them, pay the bills, supervised arts and crafts and Cherri still makes a BOMB somehow-”

Vaggie: “Everyone getting together to blow it up outside was kinda sweet.”

Charlie: “And that’s great! We’re doing great, things are going good, it’s just- WE don’t do anything that’s just for US.”

Vaggie: “That what’s bothering you?”

Charlie: “Bothering me? BOTHERING ME?? Vaggie our last outing together was dragging you back up to HEAVEN where the people who left you in hell also BLAKMAILED YOU!"

Vaggie: "Could've been worse."

Charlie: "IT WAS HORRIBLE! A NEGATIVE TIME TOGTHER! I’m gonna explode- I haven’t taken you on an actual date in MONTHS!!!”

Vaggie: “So let’s go then.”

Charlie: “I know we can’t just leave the hotel, but that doesn’t stop-”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “Huh?”

Vaggie: “Let’s go. We can take the rest of the night off.”

Charlie: “….can we?”

Vaggie: “Sure. Niffty’s busy with her new murder plant buddies, Husk’s busy being sick, Angel Dust’s busy with Husk, and Cherri Bomb… well. If the singing cannibal duo wants to keep playing exploding volleyball with her out back then that’s their problem, not ours.”

Charlie: “It’ll be our problem REAL quick if anyone spikes the bomb at the hotel!”

Vaggie: “It’ll be just another Tuesday, another hole in the wall, and a chance for Cherri to learn about the wonders of vacuum cleaners and wall plaster.”

Charlie: “Which you won’t be able to sleep knowing about until you’ve redone the whole thing yourself.”

Vaggie: “That’s still just another Tuesday.”

Charlie: “What about Husk being sick? AND suffering under Angel Dust’s dubiously sexy medical care?”

Vaggie: “If they’re bothering each other they can’t be getting into trouble with anyone else. Win-win.”

Charlie: “Niffty is building an army.”

Vaggie: “Good for her.”

Charlie: “She might be planning on wiping out all life in the hotel???”

Vaggie: “Hell forbid the cleaning ladies do anything.”

Charlie: “Why are you suddenly so okay with mess and chaos? You HATE messes and chaos! You patrol the hotel just to check everyone’s doing what you thought they’d be doing, based on all the little schedules you keep making on them!”

Vaggie: “Which they didn’t need to hear you yelling about but sure.”

Charlie: “You refold all my laundry so the creases line up just right! Why- oh no.”

Charlie: (gasp) “Vaggie, don’t panic, but I think the evil fail cookies are affecting you-”

Vaggie: “Charlie-” (laughing) “-no, they’re not. Maybe I’m fine with a little extra mess and chaos, if it means spending time with you.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Vaggie: “Triangle. Wanna go on a date with me?”

Charlie: “YE- wait, you’re sure though?”

Vaggie: “I’m sure.”

Charlie: “Really sure?”

Vaggie: “Very.”

Charlie: “It’s not a fun date if it makes you super stressed afterwards.”

Vaggie: “I’m always stressed. It’d be nice if I could at least get some uninterrupted ‘stare at my beautiful girlfriend’ time while I’m at it.”

Charlie: “The hotel’s gonna be in RUINS when we get back. Our friends might be on fire by then.”

Vaggie: “C’mon, they’re not our kids. They’re all responsible adults….”

Chaggie: “…..”

Vaggie: “….they’re all adults…”

Charlie: “Who we’re kinda responsible for…?”

Vaggie: “Not for tonight.”

Charlie: (sighing) “That WOULD be nice.”

Vaggie: “So let’s make it happen. Date night?”

Charlie: “-ES YES YES YES YES-”

Vaggie: “That a yes?”

Charlie: “YES!!! I- Hold on, wait wait, I’ve got-”

Charlie: (pulls out several papers covered in writing and diagrams)

Charlie: “…I’ve got, let’s see here-”

Vaggie: “Notes?”

Charlie: “-seven quick pick up date ideas that don’t need ANY preparation-”

Vaggie: “You made plans for dates you didn’t even think we’d go on?”

Charlie: “Well it never hurts to dream about something, right? That way you get to have fun either way, and you’ll be ready if it does happen!”

Vaggie: “I love you.”

Charlie: (grinning) “You love that you’ve infected me with note cards and organizing thoughts and things~”

Vaggie: “That too.”

Charlie: “Well according to my wonderful notes, the least stressful date option is…. Cannibal Town!”

Vaggie: “They have that dress code don’t they.”

Charlie: “Unless you wanna get your cute butt chased for all the wrong reasons, yep! They do!”

Vaggie: “Is this you wanting to see me in a fancy-ass dress?”

Charlie: “And to stroll down the nicely kept streets arm-in-arm with you, enjoyed the quiet atmosphere not filled with random agonized screams, stopping to admire the beautiful and very well composted flower beds…”

Vaggie: “I’d stroll with you anywhere, so count me in.”

Charlie: “YES! Oh I already LOVE THIS- and Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Yeah?”

Charlie: “I love you too.”

Vaggie: “Wow really. Had no idea.”

Charlie: “Heheh.”

Vaggie: “Honestly there’ve been like, zero hints about that all day.”

Charlie: “I promise I really was trying to be subtle.”

Vaggie: “There’s a lot of words for you, but subtle’s probably not one of them.”

Charlie: “I tried. I tried for youuuuuuu~ For the sake of my girlfriend, I was willing to go against my baser and more dramatic nature!”

Vaggie: “What’s more dramatic than man eating flowers, that’s what I’d like to know.”

Charlie: “A garden.”

Vaggie: “A g- a whole garden?”

Charlie: (shrug) “We’ve got plenty of empty rooms…”

Vaggie: “A garden, sweetie.”

Charlie: “I was thinking of putting a lot of trees and bushes in. Lots of stuff to hide behind.”

Vaggie: “Our own little patch of private picnic paradise, huh?”

Charlie: “Hm-hmm! Or for makeouts. Or both?”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Not to spoil the mood but… speaking of plants and compost, on our date, should we bring the other half of the cannibal quartet over to Rosie’s while we’re headed there? Or, what’s left of them?”

Charlie: “Mmmmm NAAAH. I wanna have all hands free on the way over.”

Vaggie: “Hands free for what?”

Charlie: “Nothing~”

Vaggie: “Your hands are already on my ass, Charlie.”

Charlie: “Oh whoops!”

Vaggie: “I didn’t say you could move them.”

Charlie: “That’s why I’m not~”

Vaggie: “You’re in a mood tonight, aren’t you.” (muttering) “I’m not even the one off playing with carnivorous plants, so why's it suddenly feel like I’m in danger...”

Charlie: “Beecaaaause you look dangerously cute in a fancy dress.”

Vaggie: “Says the woman walking around in THAT suit.”

Charlie: “I have to dress sharp! I need to match with my girlfriend!”

Vaggie: “You’ve been wearing that exact same kind of suit since long before you even met me.”

Charlie: “Only through YEARS of unfulfilled potential!”

Vaggie: “Uh huh.”

Charlie: “Tragic, wasted beauty!”

Vaggie: “Hardly wasted with you in it.”

Charlie: “But it was! A jacket crying out for the one woman who’ll finally borrow and wear it the way it was always meant to be worn!”

Vaggie: “With the sleeves falling over my hands?”

Charlie: “With that adorable little blush when you snuggle down into it… Also, the way it falls to almost mid-thigh on you, and how you like wearing it with nothing el-”

Vaggie: “Is this a date night or a do not disturb night?”

Charlie: “Date night!”

Vaggie: “Then stop biting your lip at me.”

Charlie: “Aww.”

Vaggie: “And come help me pick out a fancy dress.”

Charlie: “!!! THE ONE FROM THE COMMERCIAL MAYBE???”

Vaggie: “Oh you liked that look, huh?” (snickering) “Aw babe- is THAT why you stay up replaying the commercial some nights?”

Charlie: “That’s… public image analysis…”

Vaggie: “Whatever you say. Now you now know how I feel every day.”

Charlie: (muttering) “lucky you.”

Vaggie: “You wanna switch things up for the date, or keep the suit?”

Charlie: “Keep, probably..? You like me in the suit~”

Vaggie: “I like you in a lot of things.”

Charlie: “R-right.”

Vaggie: “And nothing.”

Charlie: “I- same.” (horns start popping out) “Um.” (pushes them back in) “Could we also. Wear matching hats?”

Vaggie: “Of course we’re wearing matching hats. This is supposed to be a fancy date right?”

Charlie: “Very. Very fancy.”

Vaggie: “Well nothing’s fancier than hats."

Charlie: "WHEEE! With flowers on them, yeah!?"

Vaggie: "Have I ever let you down?”

Charlie: “Never.”

Vaggie: “And do you promise not to bring me anymore demonic flowers or singing quartets?”

Charlie: “… I’ll do my best.”

Vaggie: “Perfect.”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “I wouldn’t say no to a few more of those cookies though-”

Charlie: “NO.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, they were good.”

Charlie: “No. Absolutely no, I am NOT poisoning you on purpose. Not even if you ask me nicely and pout about it like that.”

Vaggie: “You deny the cookies?”

Charlie: “Don’t even start-”

Vaggie: “Girlfriend abuse. Toxic relationship alert.”

Charlie: “Those 'cookies' were the MOST TOXIC THING that our relationship has EVER seen!”

Vaggie: “They were made with love.”

Charlie: “And likely heavy metals? The fact that you willingly ate them is maybe the most WORRYING thing our relationship has ever seen…”

Vaggie: “Cough exorcist lie cough cough.”

Charlie: “Totally different. That didn’t put you in active danger-”

Niffty: “SPEAKING OF DANGER!”

Chaggie: (screaming)

Niffty: “My murder plant babies are in danger.”

Vaggie: “HOW can- how can those things BE in danger?”

Charlie: “NIFFTY PLEASE! The knocking?? The not dropping from air vents???”

Niffty: “Only in emergencies, I remember! This is an emergency. Husk is feeding himself to my murder plan babies.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Niffty: “Escaping nurse Angel Dust and unnecessary CPR.”

Charlie: “Oh for-”

Vaggie: “Let him. They won’t kill him. Permanently, anyway.”

Charlie: “…. Hm.”

Niffty: “What if my murder babies get food poisoning from second hand bad cookies?”

Vaggie: “Seek revenge for them or something?”

Niffty: “OoooOOOH!”

Niffty: (scuttles away cackling)

Charlie: “Oh noooo, you’ve given her an idea-”

Vaggie: “Too late to stop her now. C’mon.” (grabbing charlie’s hand) “Make a break for our room before anyone else-”

Cherri Bomb: “Hey girls! Uh, you were planning on making a pit for a hotel swimming pool, right? Like, one already kinda full of blood? Right out back? Right???”

Chaggie: “….”

Charlie: “… Hello~! Charlie and Vaggie can’t be reached at the moment!”

Vaggie: “We’ll be out all night.”

Cherri Bomb: “And the pool of blood-?”

Charlie: “So please leave a message at the sound of the beep!”

Vaggie: “Beeeeep.” (at charlie) “Run.”  

Charlie: (scooping up vaggie) “My legs are longer-”

Vaggie: “Brilliant thinking sweetie now GO GO GO!!!”

Chaggie: (flees)

Cherri Bomb: “…..”

Cherri Bomb: “They take the u-haul thing seriously, huh.”

-their room-

Charlie: “….Vaggie.”

Vaggie: “Yeah?”

Charlie: “Stop it.”

Vaggie: “Stop what?”

Charlie: “Vaggie.”

Vaggie: “Mmm?”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “…..fine, FINE!” (groaning) “I’ll see about salvaging the burnt remains of the evil cursed cookie recipe when we get back. Now will you PLEASE stop messing with your flawless hair and put the dress on? Or anything!? Anything being put on would be good now too!”

Vaggie: (smiling) “No idea what you mean babe, but alright.” (quietly to herself) “Mission success.”

Charlie: “I heard that.”

-exiting hotel-

Vaggie: “Almost there.”

Charlie: “Oh please my dad who’s probably in a pile of duckies, please just let us make it out the d-”

(horrific screaming from deeper inside hotel)

Charlie: “…..”

Vaggie: “….”

Charlie: “We didn’t hear that.”

Vaggie: “We kinda already did, sweetie.”

Charlie: “No.” (pouting) “No. We can hear it when we get back.”

Vaggie: “Fine by me.”

Charlie: (SIGHING) “Even though we’re gonna hear allllll about not hearing it when we get back...”

Vaggie: “Worth it.”

Charlie: (grinning) “Think so?”

Vaggie: “Do you?”

Charlie: (already tugging them out the door by their entwined hands) “More than worth it.” (lifts and twirls vaggie down the hotel steps) “Whooosh!”

Vaggie: “Oh is THIS why you really wanted me in a fancy dress? For the ‘whoosh’?”

Charlie: “That, and for the way you smile when I whoosh you~”

[harrysfolklore]

hey could u do masie peters as a face claim with singer yn

i was dying to do tom x singer!yn and i this came up ! i really really hope you like it as much as i do !

AND HAPPY 29TH BIRTHDAY TO THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND TOM BLYTH. ILY

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by rachelzegler, oliviarodrigo and 836,038 others

yourinstagram the good witch as been out for a week and i just want to say thank for all the love 🥹 here’s a pic of me right before recording the saddest song on the album lol

view all 18,037 comments

ynfan1 IM SO PROOOOUD

ynfan2 i love her so bad

troyesivan absolutely obsessed with every track

ynfan3 WE NEED THE DELUXE VERSION

rachelzegler I’m sooo obsessed with this album, I’ve played it on set like a hundred times this week I’m pretty sure all the cast is sick of me lol. LOVE YOU CONGRATS ❤️

↳ yourinstagram rachh 🥹🥹 thank you for your support ! means the world to me and i hope your cast mates don’t hate me lol. good luck on filming and i can’t wait to see the movie !!

↳ ynfan1 QUEENS SUPPORTING EACH OTHER

↳ ynfan3 i love them so much

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 486,529 others

tomblyth HG film dump. Just some of the many people I love who breathed life into this movie. @songbirdsandsnakes opens tomorrow 🤍

view all 11,160 comments

tomfan1 CRYING

tomfan2 this movie is about to change my life

mtv new crush unlocked

florencepugh ❤️

tomfan3 i love this cast so bad

rachelzegler LOVE YOU ALL 💘

tomfan4 my man my man my man

liked by shawnmendes, tomblyth and 840,726 others

yourinstagram MANCHESTER THAT WAS AWESOME !! and london you’re next 🥹

view all 18,937 comments

ynfan1 BEST SHOW IN THE WORLD

ynfan2 my turn when

madisonbeer superstar 🤍

rachelzegler I can’t wait to see you live !!

↳ tomblyth I’m tagging along

↳ tomfan1 WEEE TOM A YN FAN SO TRUE

↳ yourinstagram you guys are welcome anytime

ynfan3 she’s a celebrity to celebrities omg

mtv yn x tbosas cast? a yes from me

INTERVIEWS FROM TBOSAS PROMO

INSTAGRAM STORIES

//

liked by tomfan1, tomfan2 and 10,837 others

tomupdates TOM ARRIVING TO O2 ARENA IN LONDON TODAY?

view all 943 comments

tomfan1 OMGGG

ynfan1 YN HAS A SHOW THERE LAJSKA

tomfan2 he’s really seeing yn live😭 such a fanboy

ynfan2 that’s it. i ship them

↳ tomfan3 SAMEEEE

ynfan3 MY FAVES

liked by ynfan1, ynfan2 and 13,378 others

ynupdates “Tonight’s show is special. Not only because we’re at the O2 arena which is absolutely freaking cool, but also because we have some friends coming to see us, and it’s always a pleasure to play for old and new friends.” - YN at tonight’s show !

view all 966 comments

ynfan1 OMGGG

ynfan2 I LOVE HER

tomfan1 omfg is this about tom ???

tomfan2 TOM WAS IN THE AUDIENCE

ynfan3 she’s not sneaky

liked by conangray, tomblyth and 845,380 others

yourinstagram LONDON THAT WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SHOWS EVER !! thank you to everyone who came 🤍

view all 18,038 comments

ynfan1 I CANT BELIEVE I WAS THERE

ynfan2 POP QUEEN

oliviarodrigo best show ever 💜

tomfan1 i bet tom was fangirling the entire time

hunterschafer I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

tomblyth Amazing show and amazing performer, I'm blown away

↳ tomfan2 AHHHH

↳ tomfan3 i literally ship them so hard

↳ ynfan3 thats a MAN

FANS VIA TWITTER

//

liked by yourinstagram, hunterschafer and 764,093 others

tomblyth Afterparty-ing 🥂

view all 17,394 comments

tomfan1 YEEEEEES

tomfan2 HE WENT TO YN'S AFTERPATY

rachelzegler 👯‍♂️

ynfan1 hes so hooot yn better give him a chance

↳ tomfan3 chill they're just friends

yourinstagram thank you for coming 💕

↳ ynfan2 THE EMOJIII

↳ tomfan2 i'm trying so hard to be normal and not ship them

TEXTS BETWEEN TOM AND YN

//

liked by gracieabrams, lauraharrier and 876,309 others

yourinstagram unfiltered friday dump

view all 18,275 comments

ynfan1 i live for this

ynfan2 her monopoly obsession is still going strong

rachelzegler You sneaky shits! Invite me next time

↳ ynfan3 WHAT DOES SHE MEAN ?

↳ yourinstagram i’ll make sure snow lets you know next time

↳ tomfan1 SNOW ?? TOM??

↳ tomfan2 AHHHHH

tomblyth It was such a pleasure to beat you at Monopoly

↳ tomfan1 AH SO SHE WAS WITH TOM

↳ ynfan3 IM THROWING UP

↳ yourinstagram shhh don’t let everyone know🥲

↳ ynfan3 😭😭😭

liked by yourinstagram, maya_hawke and 630,998 others

tomblyth I made a new friend 😊

view all 18,937 comments

tomfan1 MY HEART

ynfan1 THATS YN’S DOG STFU

rachelzegler I keep getting excluded from this relationship 🥲🥲

↳ tomfan2 RELATIONSHIP???

↳ ynfan2 NOT RACHEL OUTING THEIR BUSINESS

hunterschafer babies

yourinstagram i can’t believe i’ve been replaced

↳ tomblyth Sorry love, I’m just really charming

↳ ynfan1 STOOOOOP

↳ tomfan3 HE’S SHAMELESS

DEUXMOI VIA INSTAGRAM STORIES

//

liked by tomfan1, ynfan1 and 40,826 others

celebrityleaks TOM BLYTH AND YN OUT IN LOS ANGELES TODAY

view all 2,927 comments

tomfan1 LORD

ynfan1 I KNEW IT

tomfan2 THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

ynfan2 AHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

tomfan3 the couple we never knew we needed

ynfan3 we literally saw this relationship come to life I LOVE IT

tomfan4 byeee yall already claiming they’re in a relationship when they could be just friends

↳ ynfan1 you’re delulu

↳ tomfan1 the denial stage i see

liked by tomblyth, teddysphotos and 837,937 others

yourinstagram we’re in the middle of a tour but i couldn’t help myself and i got into the studio to pour out my lovey dovey feelings and ‘glue song’ came to life ! it’s going to be available everywhere on feb 2 (💓), i hope you like it 🥹

view all 19,045 comments

ynfan1 OH MY GOD ??

ynfan2 AHHHHHH WE WON

sabrinacarpenter such a sweet song i love it 🥰

tomfan1 IS THIS ABOUT TOM ??? BECAUSE IF IT IS I MIGHT CRY

gracieeabrams in your lover era 🥺

ynfan3 SHES DOWN BADDDDDD

tomfan3 HOLD ON. SHES RELEASING IT ON TOM’S BDAY !!!?

↳ tomfan1 YOU’RE RIGHT

↳ ynfan2 and just like that im sobbing again

tomfan2 i want to be stuck to tom like glue too

tomblyth ❤️

↳ ynfan3 SOBBING

↳ tomfan3 THIS IS CONFIRMATION

liked by yourinstagram, hunterschafer and 702,825 others

tomblyth What the bracelets say ❤️ @yourinstagram

view all 17,937 comments

tomfan1 STOP IT

ynfan1 i’ve died dead

rachelzegler MY BABIES MY LOVES 😭💘

↳ tomfan2 if you think about it rachel was lowkey the matchmaker here

↳ tomfan1 hunter aswell !

hunterschafer 🥲🥲🥲🤍🤍🤍

ynfan2 SHE DESERVES A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP IM SO HAPPY

tomfan3 couple of the century for real

ynfan3 THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS 😩

yourinstagram love you be stuck 2 u you and your early morning karaoke 💘 happy birthday my love

↳ ynfan1 AHHHH

↳ tomfan3 WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION

[hugemilkshake]

hii! okay sooo....

seeing you write a Yandere Ancients x Reader....that got me thinking....what if it was the Dragons? YANDERE dragons? OMG SCREAMS AAAAAAAARGRHRGRRGRH ( im obsessed...i love yanderes sm they make me crazy MUAHAHHA i crave for more yandere dragon cookies content YUMMY )

same plot, basically the dragons (yandere) react to reader's rejection to them and pushes them away or something? or what if reader prefers someone else? i would really LOVE to see their reactions heh....IF U SEE THIS I BEG OF YOU- it would be the happiest moments of my LIFE if u do this RAHHHH anyways...THANKIE AND GOODBAI COOL PERSON !1!1 *skedaddles away*

(ok seriously i love they way u write the dragons. i crave more of ur amazing content hshshshsh)

Enjoy the milkshake! I’m a slow writer lololol and also my jaw hurts-

I would do Lychee and Longan but I can’t think of any ideas for them rn </3

Pitaya, Ananas and Lotus getting rejected

-Romantic-

!TW! Under the cut there will be stuff like guilt tripping, arson, punishing innocent people, forced starvation, implied cheating, manipulation and obsessive behaviors

Pitaya Dragon

You were already happy with the cookie you were with, your life was practically perfect.

But The Great Red Dragon thought that you’d drop everything just to be with them. I mean imagine being with one of the strongest characters on earthbread! You’d be treated well!

But… your more loyal than the dragon thought.. Your loyalty was something admirable but Pitaya hated that it wasn’t for them. You saw the dragon try to play it off normally but there was and underlying rage.

A month goes by you lived your normal life, the confession occasional coming up in your thoughts. Today was an average day, a clear sky and cool wind.

But then… you smelt it… smoke..

Smoke and the stench of burnt butter. You eyes gaze up at the sky and you see the smoke drifting across the blue sky, staining it in a dark gray. You look and spot that the smoke is coming from the local village, that same village your partner was visiting…

—————————————

When you rejected Pitaya, they were very angry. For days they burned and destroyed their cave.

But after they cooled down a bit they cleaned their cave up. Not because they accepted your rejection, but because they had a plan

They see how horrified you were at the sight of burnt cookies and homes, but most importantly… your partner being held up by the collar.

You had an ultimatum. Either save your partner and go with Pitaya or you let your partner and more cookies die, I mean… you wouldn’t want to be the cause of so many deaths right?

If you go with Pitaya, you are always in their vicinity. The dragon is quite clingy to you. They have their tail wrapped around time or your resting in their lap

They feel a little bad for forcing you to come with them, but not bad enough to let you go.

Ananas Dragon

A rejection to The Golden Dragon is quite the insult, but a rejection in favor for another? That’s just blasphemy.

After your rejection, your tribe started to suffer. Fruit stoped being produced, fish avoided the tribes hunting grounds and cookies started getting sick.

No one knows why, other tribes aren’t experiencing this, so why is yours?

Some cookies start to suspect that you have something to do with it, why else are there so many golden treasures and trinkets around your home?

Some cookies think about sacrificing you to the Golden Dragon, others think you did something to anger the dragon… which is exactly what Ananas Dragon wants…

—————————————

Your rejection was the most disrespectful thing Ananas Dragon has heard. I mean, you would be spoiled in riches beyond your wildest dreams! And yet, you choose some.. BORING old cookie over them?! Blasphemy.

The only thing that they could think of is to punish you. Your tribe had it good for too long. It’s time to bring some trouble.

All food sources started to die out. Anything you’d grow would die, all and any fish would be no where to be found.

Cookies of your tribe had to start rationing food and even eating plants that wouldn’t be considered edible, just to avoid starvation.

But due to the food situation, cookies were starting to get sick.

But while this happened, the more gold was left at your house. Cookies started to think you had something to do with this

The more who think you did something… the quicker Ananas Dragon will get you in their grasp…

Lotus Dragon

This confession didn’t happen immediately. It happened when you were head over heels. Yes, you have a partner but that doesn’t mean you can’t fall for someone else right?

It’s slow but Lotus is very patient. They can wait for their wish to come true. But while they’re waiting… why don’t you listen to them play their mandolin for a bit?

Don’t worry about your partner! They didn’t think about coming with you, they might not be as loyal as you think… but that’s probably not the case!

Right..?

—————————————

Lotus knows you’re loyal to your partner, and they know that you’d reject them, so unlike some other dragons, they would make you and your partner fall out of love.

Friendship. That’s where all love usually starts.

To befriend a dragon is quite a great feat. Others are envious and amazed at your friendship with the wish giving dragon

But… Lotus whispers doubts about your partner… like why don’t they spend time with you? They don’t seem to notice when you’re upset so why do they stay with you?

And unknown to you (and lotus) cookies tell your partner that they aren’t good enough for you since you are apparently friends with a dragon.

In a matter of time… you and your partner are broken up and you actually accept Lotus Dragons confession

But be warned… if you even come close to figuring out that they aided in breaking you and your partner up… you might get locked up…

[dancingdonatello]

Heeeey! I'm currently hyperfixating on rottmnt sooooo... I'd like to request a scenario (if you don't want to do this, it's totally fine) in which reader has celiac disease and/or is lactose intolerant. Sooo they can't eat pizza with the guys! Maybe reader eats pizza with them anyways and gets super sick and tries to hide it (badly). In the end, reader cracks and tells the boys about their dietary restrictions . After that maybe something cutesy in which reader teaches Mickey some gluten-free recipies and they cook together. Or Raph goes all overprotective after learning about it and "cross-contamination" is his new favourite word like "CAREFUL Y/N that piece of letuce is in a plate that contained mac and cheese 3 weeks ago, it might be cross contaminated!!!" Lol Idk... I'm just bitter that pizza is my digestive system's natural enemy and I need some cheering up from my favourite turtles.

Love your writting. I've been going over your masterlist all morning :D Wether you do this or not, have a nice rest of your day 💜

rottmnt x reader

You got sick once. Once.

You had tried to feel included by eating some pizza and had immediately regretted it. Not only because of the pain but because of your turtle friends’ reactions.

You think you might’ve triggered Raph’s OCD. That guy obsessed over the dishes now, fearful of any plate or bowl that may have something that triggered your stomach issues. He would stare at you as you ate, constantly asking how you felt.

It was a really nice bonding moment between you and Mikey. He learned a lot from you and you two cooked together often now. He was really the only one who took the information in like a normal person. He often made you safe food to eat whenever you came over so you didn’t have to worry.

Unfortunately, the last two were… odd.

“You’re not cleaning it hard enough!” Leo grabbed the bowl from Donnie who held onto it tightly to prevent him from stealing it.

“I am cleaning it just fine, Nardo!” He tugged it back and they started a tug of war. Over a plate.

You and Mikey glanced at each other, unsurely. Raph was biting his claws, a nervous wreck as he watched the plate. “There was mac and cheese on that last week… Or was it a salad? No, it had to be mac and cheese.”

“Raphy, I’m sure it’s fine…” You patted his shoulder. It did nothing to reassure him.

As expected, the two turtles ended up dropping the plate and shattering it on the floor.

“Maybe it was for the best!” Raph relaxed. At least he’d never have to worry about that plate again. But what about the all the other plates they had? He tensed up just thinking about it. He should make a chart or a list… Or…

“Raph, why not just get a few plates and keep them separated and only let them use it, if you’re so stressed about it?” Mikey suggested while you tried to protest. They shouldn’t buy new plates for you—

Not only does he get new dishes and new forks and spoons, Raph gets an entire new fridge for food for you.

Well, you’ll never have to worry about the food here ever again.

[planetpedri]

you can write one with cubarsi where the reader is a famous singer and when she releases a song it's obvious that they're together and he's all shy

To be seen — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you release an album so painfully obvious about Pau !

Word count: 590+

Disclaimer/s: Half smau half actually writing! reader is a singer and alll fluff !!

A/N: okay ik u said song (singular) but then i got bored and made graphics so..

Yourusername

Liked by paucubarsi, billieeilish, 802,291 others

yourusername My second album ‘To be seen’ is out now on all platforms <3 Thank you to my support system & all of you guys, I love and appreciate you more than you know!!

View all comments . . .

username1 hey! so you were sick for this.

username2 are we going to brush over the fact that these are all love songs and she is literally dating Pau Cubarsí?? (i don’t have a source i just know.)

⤷ username3 RUGHT? i’m going insane. why IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THISSS

username4 my pauxy/n agenda has been pushed to the frontlines. nobody can deny them now.

paucubarsi I’m so proud of you mi amor❤️

⤷ yourusername I love you 😭❤️

⤷ username3 hey!! ahahahahahah i’m so normal rn guys im so normal hey hi im sooo normal

⤷ hectorfort Kids down bad😂

⤷ yourusername can you leave lil boy.

⤷ hectorfort I’m older than you?

username5 mi. amor. mi. amor.

billieeilish The most beautiful voice!!😭

⤷ yourusername i cant breath i cant breath i cant

lamineyamal Pau’s blushing like a kid rn congrats ❤️

⤷ paucubarsi Get outtttttttttttt .

username6 hey so “show me how” is actually making me hit my head against a wall. delete it NOW.

⤷ yourusername uhm, you’re welcome..(?)💕

username7 IS THE SECOND PHOTO PAU AND Y/N?

⤷ username8 IT IS?? IT HAS TO BE??

—

Your front door unlocking had you scrambling off the couch. A giddy pep in your step as you scrambled to meet your boyfriend in the entryway. When you see him, Pau has a faint blush across his cheeks, probably left over from his friends teasing.

“Hello.” You hum as Pau wraps his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss onto your lips.

“Hello.” He repeats the greeting when he pulls away. “You could’ve told me what your album was about.”

Right.

You wanted it to be a surprise. ‘To be seen’ was your one year anniversary gift to Pau, finding the only way you could explain the depth of your love was through your songwriting.

You shrug, “I told you it was a surprise!” You plant another kiss on his lips, “did you like it?”

“I loved it..” He hesitates before speaking again, “the fans also really liked it. Have you read the comments?” He’s blushing again when he brings it up.

“They are under my post about my album. So, yes, my dear, sweet boyfriend, I have.” Wriggling out of his grasp, you pat his cheek. “My parents are on the way home with takeout to celebrate! You are staying right?”

Pau rolls his eyes, “it’s our anniversary, of course I’m staying.” He trails after you into the living room, plopping down beside you on the couch and pulling you into his side. “I love you.”

Grinning up at him, you say a soft, “I love you,” back. Pau leans down for another kiss but you stop him, pressing your pointer finger to his lips and Pau’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “First, tell me your favorite song.”

“Lovesong.” He grins, “it’s.. cute.”

“Cute?” You laugh, “I’ll take it.”

“So..?” Letting out a dramatic huff, you nod—mid doing so, his lips connect with yours once again. “Also, when did that picture of us even get taken?”

Sighing at the loss of contact, you rest your head on his shoulder. “A few months ago, when we visited my parent’s lake cabin. My sister took it.”

Pau’s cheeks puff up with the smile that took over his face. “Send it to me?” You nod, reaching for your phone.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pau posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @unx100to @n0vazsq

[obsessedwithspiderman2099]

Wisteria

Part three

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Word count: 1,168

Synopsis: Someone has been running laps around Miguel’s mind.

“Where’s Miguel???”

This had been the question all week long in the spider society. After ten pm he was gone. For other spiders, this was a normal if not longer time to leave work. But for Miguel, the workaholic rarely left his office. No one could successfully kick him out, not even Lyla. But for some reason ever since he stopped that lizard anomaly from Earth 1829, something about him has been different..

Jess was the first to clock it when she actually saw a smile form on his face. “Something’s up.” She told Lyla. “With Miguel?” “Who else? He’s been leaving at a normal time and hasn’t been frowning as much as he usually does.” Lyla thought for a moment about it, “you know I have been seeing him a little bit happier lately…”

She immediately began pulling up his files and stalking through them. Her yellow skin got brighter for a second when she found the reason.

“Aha!” She said, fishing out a tiny imaginary digital file and pulling it up.

“About two nights ago, he walked this woman, y/n l/n, home to her apartment after successfully taking down an anomaly that was in her area. He met her again last night to walk her home, which is probably the cause!”

They both looked at each other for a second.

“You don’t think he’s….” “No! I’ve never seen him like that before..” “Maybe she and he…-“

“Maybe who and I what.”

The two froze and turned around, Miguel right beside them now. His mask was off, with an eyebrow raised and the usual grumpy expression was looking at them.

“Miguel! We were just talking about work-“ “So who’s y/n?” Lyla asked, almost casually.

Although he didn’t move or seem surprised by the question, a small hint of blush formed on his tan skin. Jess noticed it immediately, but kept the thought to herself.

“She’s a citizen I was helping yesterday.” “And the day before? Sooo what’s up with that?” Lyla says, poking at the already annoyed bear.

“Lyla. Stop. It’s none of your business, I was just helping her.” He then turned to Jess, “It’s not yours either.” “Sorry, I guess I’ll get back to work.” Jess raised her arms up in defense, and left the two alone.

“Riiiiight, so why’d you go back.”

Lyla continued, making Miguel roll his eyes at her in annoyance. “She said she walks home every night, I was just being Spider-Man and walked her home.” “So why didn’t you just give her a taser and call it a day?” “Lyla, I'm not having this talk with you.” He said, and tried to shoo her away, but she went through his hand, staying in her spot around his shoulder now.

“Are you hiding something Miguel?” “No.”

“Then why does it look ,Ike you got sunburnt on your face.” “What? It doesn’t! Ugh- I’m not talking about this anymore.” He stormed off, slamming the door to his office on the way in.

“He’s definitely hiding something.” Lyla said to herself before glitching off, away to deal with something else.

Miguel stood in his office, looking at different screens.

With anomalies always appearing in different earths, there was always trouble to deal with everywhere. Checking multiple earths through the screens, he accidentally (completely purposefully) checks yours. Seeing nothing but semi empty streets lightly peppered with the usual purple flowers, he becomes curious.

What are you doing right now?

Probably in the book store helping with someone, or just being the kind person you were, but what? He wondered, subconsciously checking on more of your world. He didn’t know the Spider-Man who ran it, but after checking his files and the footage of him, he didn’t need to.

Although being presented and acting like an eco-friendly and caring hero, the man was really an arrogant and selfish person. After watching some interviews and reading his canon events, Miguel was already sick of the man. Working with the largest corporations in your earth to actually go against the climate instead of helping protect it like he promised and ignoring the people he was supposed to be saving, Spider-Man 1829 was a villain.

Miguel scoffed at the news, of course it had to be your universe. Of course that kind of ‘hero’ had to be protecting your earth.

He soon fell down a well of his own thoughts, not noticing Lyla popping up next to him until she spoke up.

“Still thinking about that woman?” She asked, propped up on a tiny digital yellow chair the same size as her.

Miguel jumped ( his non-existent spidey sense was always a huge help), “What? No!” “Then why’s her earth's footage covering your screens?” A smug smile plastered on her face, knowing she caught him red handed.

He grumbled, taking it off the yellow holographic screens.

“Anything else you have to say?” “Nope!”

And with that, she popped into thin air, leaving the already tired and annoyed Spider-Man even more in the regular feeling she had while working. He sighed, pinching the brick of his nose.

“Why did I program her like that??”

This was a question he repeated regularly.

Suddenly a message signaling the presence of an anomaly in a different earth showed up, prompting Miguel to go on a mission. He sighed, and turned his mask back on, covering his tan and tired face. He was back in the game.

After two more annoyingly difficult missions, Miguel was back sitting in his office.

Running a hand through his hair, he checked the clock. 9:48. His heart skipped a beat, knowing it was almost time to see you again. He stopped for a minute.

Wait. Why’d he have that reaction?

He barely knew you, and this was just him doing Spider-Man work. Right? Regardless, Miguel stood up and began to push the coordinates of your world onto his goober. After stepping into the brightly colored portal that appeared in front of him and going through the time tubes to your world, he landed on the familiar concrete.

Immediately clocking the rain that was pouring down, he sighed and quickly went back to hq to find an umbrella for you. Just in case. Miguel fished one out of the corner of his office, and continued on his plan.

He entered earth 1829 once again, and read his clock. 9:57. Looking down from the top of the building he landed on, he noticed the dimly lit lights of your bookstore still on. He remembered you mentioning your interest in books, and complaining about the screens that people were beginning to turn to instead of reading a physical copy. Miguel admired your love for literature and the earth, something he never really stopped liking either.

Again lost in thoughts surrounding you, he didn’t realize it was closing time until you were locking the front door of the shop. A smile emerged on his face under the mask he wore, watching you for a second. You were wearing nothing but a small shirt and shorts, clearly not knowing the heavy weather that would ensure. Freezing in the wet cold air that cling to you, he swung down to meet you.

“Hey.” He said, standing on the pavement suddenly next to you with the umbrella in hand, You turn to him, a smile he could look at for days on your almost ethereal face.

“You’re back.”

A/N: Oh em gee. My first story done!!! I wasn’t sure if I wanted to end it early or what, but let me know if I should make a part four! My requests are also open for the moment so make sure to give me any ideas y’all are thinking! Thanks for reading!!!

[yeyinde]

Oh my god yeyinde! Your latest fic with dog/definitely not dog!Johnny has been going through my brain nonstop since I read it. This may not be my most eloquently written praise as I’m sick, but I HAD to comment on the absolutely gothic, eerie beauty of this fic. I get deep mountain, Appalachian vibes- isolated, dark- a place your parents warned you NOT to move to (because there’s no way a homegrown Appalachian native would’ve let that dog into the house). I reads like a legend your grandparents would warn you about and you’d roll your eyes hearing it but then in the dead of might hear a dog howling in your yard and close your blinds and check your door locks remembering the story. It’s so eerie and brilliant- it reminds me of the image on tumblr associated with Margret Atwood’s poem “let now let us praise stupid women”. I’ll the image in my comment. But I love the fact she’s not naive- she knows it’s not her dog, but the idea of confronting it, dealing with it is almost more horrifying than just straight up denying it and going to sleep to pretend it’s not real. It’s haunting, devastating, bone-chill, and reads like a brilliant urban legend. You’re such an artist with words!

you are living inside my head rn lmao i also hope you feel better soon!!!!

i love dog/animal/pet horror but i think it's sooo underutilized and poorly executed. there's something about the monster being your dog, your pet, that's infinitely more horrifying than some random, separate entity. your dog suddenly turning on you (or in this case, being taken over) is so terrifying to me. i also have an irrational fear of letting my dog outside at night and something else coming in. something that looks and acts just like him, but isn't. so!! there's that.

that's such a fitting poem too!!! it might not be everyone's fave but i love characters who refuse to accept reality until they're in the jaws of the beast. spinning themselves in circles as they struggle to come up with excuses for what they're seeing, or just not looking at it at all. brushing it under the rug. i just think the arc from "this is not happening everything is fine" to "everything needs to keep being fine and the only way to do that is to keep this thing happy so i can pretend it doesn't exist" is such a good plot point.

like, the slow pan from an obvious slaughter, a bloodbath, with the dogthing just licking it's paws like it normally does after eating, to them just numbly cleaning it up is beautiful. they ignore the missing posters stapled to the utilitypoles because everything is fine. he's just hungry. all dogs are. he just needs something wild to eat. it's fine if it's just a random animal. a stray. the neighbours dog just got away. it's not your boy. it can't be him. it's fine. everything is fine. it's their fault for getting too close to him. don't they know he doesn't like that? of course he'd snap. of course he'd eat them. he's just doing what dogs do.

he's a growing boy, of course he needs to eat.

and you didn't really like your neighbour much, anyway.

[immajustvibehere]

Hi there! You’re stuff is always sooo good! I saw your post asking for some inspo.

What if Arthur has a special night planned with the reader, but he has a bunch of tasks to do before he is free to meet her? The whole day goes from one bad job to then next, and all he wants to do is meet her later for this perfect night. And when he finally gets to the hotel where he’s supposed to meet her, he’s filthy, banged up, and exhausted. He has lost almost all his money that he needed to treat her to a perfect night by the time he gets there.

How would it go from there?

Simple Nights Spent Together

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

Summary: Reader wants Arthur to understand that every time they get to spend with him is precious :)

fluffy little good night story, thanks for the request!

1100 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

Arthur slowly opened the door to the hotel room he knew you’d to be in. This was the same room the two of you always occupied whenever you managed to snatch a few precious moments away from camp, often for some undisturbed intimacy. But today turned out slightly different than normally. The day didn't really go according to plan and now Arthur felt like he had failed you. Before he gave the door a final push, he looked at himself. Dirty, knuckles stained with dried blood and a bad conscience that the guy who shot and hit his satchel got away with it. It had been a grim realisation that hit him a tad too late, when he discovered the gaping hole in his satchel. His money and a collection of other possessions that had accumulated were now lost somewhere on the sprawling prairie.

The door wasn’t fully open yet, but Arthur hesitated.

"Y/N?", he whispered. The tone of his voice was enough to suggest that something wasn’t right. You had grown restless over the past hour, because the time you had agreed upon was long past and you had feared the worst. So as soon as you saw the door open and heard his voice, you discarded the book you had been reading and sat up.

"Finally! You okay?", you walked to the door, doing Arthur the service of opening it fully and letting him in. His shame would've probably prevented him to do so.

"'m really sorry...", he mumbled, not even looking you in the eyes. You didn't answer, still busy with scanning him for serious injuries, though glad you found none. Arthur took off his head to fiddle it awkwardly between his fingers, revealing his unkempt hair.

"Nothing to be sorry for, I can see that you've been held up", you offered a little smile before standing on your tiptoes and planting a peck on the cheek.

"I wanted to go clean myself up first, but I didn't wanna be any later than I already was...", for some moments, Arthur had even considered not turning up at all, but he knew the consequences of this would have been you worried sick for the entire night.

You helped Arthur out of his coat: "That's okay. Go get a bath now, I'll stay awake and wait."

"Yes, Ma'am", Arthur said unironically. He was about to walk out when he stopped. Holding up his butchered satchel. He would have to ask you for money. He turned around, his cheeks blushing in shame.

"Oh no! What happened!", you immediately took the satchel and looked at the damage. It felt light, the hole was big enough to drain it of most its contents.

"Bullet hit it..."

"Is your journal-"

"Had it in my saddle bag", Arthur explained briefly, "I-uhm...do ya have some change on ya?"

You gave him a couple of dollars without hesitation: "I'll get it fixed first thing tomorrow, I promise. Oh and-", Arthur had started to walk off, "Have you eaten?"

"I’m not hungry", Arthur replied, accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Not hungry' was a subtle code for 'I haven't eaten all day, but please don't bother for me'. But of course, you did. The lamb chops you got from the saloon were done and you had carried them to the room only a minute before Arthur returned, his damp hair slicked back.

"Yer really shouldn't have...", Arthur commented when he saw the loaded plate and two bottles of beer.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I planned on eating that alone...", you grinned as Arthur approached you and gave you a quick kiss. He smelt pleasantly like soup, though the clothes he wore still gave the familiar odour of soil and pines. Arthur had tasted the meat that on your lips – apparently you had tried some – and sat down willingly. Eagerly, he finished the plate.

His shoulders were slouched, and you could tell by how slowly he blinked that he was exhausted and ready for some sleep.

"'m real sorry, darlin'...", Arthur sighed, "I really had something different planned for tonight than just sleeping..."

Arthur was hinting at some fun and intimacy, but you weren't even a little bit disappointed that none of this would be happening.

"Arthur", you leaned forward as your lips curled into a soft smile, "This is the perfect night."

The man looked at you like you were telling a stupid joke.

"Firstly...", you started and handed him a wet rag to clean his hands which glistened in fat, "you're alive. Can't take that for granted in this line of work, so this alone makes it a good night."

Then you helped him out of his clothes which he wouldn't need for sleeping: "Secondly, you're here. You came. You had a horrible day, I can tell. But you still showed up and I really appreciate that. Makes it an even better night, because we get to share a bed."

Arthur would often get this warm tingly feeling when you cared for him in this way. Not that he frequently found himself in situations where he messed up or ruined a date night, but sometimes things were out of control, and you never made him feel like you didn't understand that. Without resistance, he allowed you to guide him onto the pillow, his whole body sinking into the bed in the process. With pleasure, he watched as you crawled on top of him. He just barely managed to lift his hands to place them on your hip.

"And lastly", you pressed a light kiss onto his cheek, "Do you have one healthy arm to spare?"

Arthur didn't understand this question, shooting you a quizzical look before checking out his arms: "Both of them lookin' fine to me."

"And now if you, Mr. Morgan, have at least one of those arms to spare for me tonight, so I might rest my head on them instead of the pillow, since I much prefer your arm, I'd call this a perfect night", you called out in a theatrical matter, before falling onto the mattress next to him and resting your head on his arm.

Arthur chuckled warmly, pulling you into an embrace. "You sure are something...", he mumbled.

"Most of all I'm just happy to have you", you replied, snuggling up to him.

A contented sigh escaped Arthur’s lips. If he weren’t so tired, he might have found the words to express what he felt. It was the sentiment that it was his turn to express how privileged he’s to have you.  

"You know", Arthur whispered, his words slurred by the tiredness that washed over him, "I'm gonna make up for all of it tomorrow." He placed a suggestive kiss on your neck.

"Looking forward to it", you answered softly, well aware that sleep will claim you both in a few moments.

[natalie-goodmn]

Next to Normal round 3 thoughts:

there’s a lot of things I noticed this time that I didn’t before but that’s just bc as a Natalie stan I must be looking at her the whole time

- I never noticed Gabe throwing Dan’s keys in Just Another Day before that’s SO funny

- I also finally saw Diana kiss Henry, she really WENT FOR IT

- is it just me or does the Wyndhams need to turn up their mics?? Maybe it’s just that I need it In My Ear Canal but I’ve noticed the singing is a bit quiet (I also didn’t notice this in Oklahoma)

- I love Gabe holding the microphones to Natalie and Dan during their I’m Alive dialogue. He might be a demon with the spirit of a dead two year old but he’s sooo silly :D

(this is getting long so more under the cut)

- something something Natalie playing her fake keyboard with the band’s piano behind her, something acting and pretending like she’s a normal person with a normal family

- I just realised that Gabe AND Natalie licks up Diana’s leg. Diversity win

- the parallels of Gabe and Diana reaching out to each other in Im Alive vs Natalie reaching down to her in Wish I Were Here (and maybe Catch Me I’m Falling) i feel sick,,,

- Gabe holding Diana in I Am the One like Henry’s holding Natalie, welcome back Freudian Gabe

- also the head kiss parallel with Gabe in Just Another Day and before he’s about to leave in I Dreamed a Dance

- the blood is so visceral but a part of me misses the bway staging too where they just walk off slowly and as dr madden talks abt Diana’s attempt. It’s basically the same thing but the reveal felt slower idk

- also man every time I miss the donmar staging of the one tiny bit where Dan’s going “Is this helping or? Di?” as Diana just walks off and back to the therapy chair. Idk it just felt like dissociation better to me, but I do like Ominous Circle Of Thinking

- I also love love love how they play the “I love you as much as I can” in this. They play it like a failed charm roll, and you really get everyone’s frustration and that she’s trying hard

- and then in Maybe when you see that Diana actually knows Natalie deeply bc she’s like her,,, hold on. Similarly, I love how the first person Natalie hugs in act two (I think?) is Diana instead of Henry. Me when the real story is between a mother and daughter (mamma Mia who)

- Diana rolling her eyes and mouthing ‘oh my fucking-‘ to Dan going “can you tell me what it is you’re afraid of” is maybe the best representation of anxiety and I’m not even kidding, MOOD Diana

- god I know it’s been in all the productions but I love how much agency Diana has, you rarely see it with mentally ill characters but she’s so funny and knows what she wants and I love her

- everyone’s said it, everyone knows it but JACK WOLFE god he’s amazing every time

- I’ve thought this both times, is it just me or when Gabe is silhouetted (I think with the music box) is his neck like inhumanly thin??? Like genuinely asking, I don’t think that’s Jack’s neck?? Is it?? Am I just misunderstanding human anatomy when someone wears a hoodie

- I’ve said it before but I Am the One reprise is one of the best scenes in musical theatre and it should end there. I’m a Light hater SORRY, I like the message a lot but it’s always felt like a studio note or something where they’ve been told that it has to be uplifting at the end or it’ll do badly and make everyone sad

- natalie,,, covering her ears and her big headphones. Autism. Also really love Eleanor’s portrayal of her anxiety. Instead of Jen’s anger, she has a hamster like anxiety quality to her (complimentary)

- also I swear I see no one talk about it WHEN GABE TOUCHED NATALIE’S HAND??? AND SHE NOTICES SOMETHING??? That’s new for this production right?? Theories???

- Natalie starting to tidy up Gabe’s toys,,, she’s breaking the cycle,, she’s the hope. And playing with them with Henry and showing him the bunny toy 😭

- I’ll say it. The “you’re like number one on my list of problems” doesn’t work that well if you don’t have Jen and Adam’s sarcasm. Too earnest. Banned.

- I’ve said a lot abt this Henry but I actually like this act 2! He plays him v desperate and anxious which I don’t think Adam does, it shows the stakes for act two. Also his arc UGH. From being a Dan parallel where he’s saying he’ll be perfect for her and that he wants who he knew and that he’ll stay anyway because he made a promise to,,, the dance and saying that he’ll stay bc he loves her and he doesn’t care if she goes crazy

- Also I think Natalie mouths ‘help me’ as she stops Henry from walking off in A Promise owwww

- also Henry apologising to the pianist after the recital (I think?) and picking up Natalie’s bag from the club 😭

[gunsatthaphan]

✌🏻✨ ~ 2023 wrap-up ~ ✨✌🏻

another year gone, another post no one asked for djkghdf

I normally don't talk about personal stuff on here but like in the previous year I wanted do a little recap and give shoutouts to some lovely people 🧡

It hasn't been an easy year for me, I started a new job which has been stressful and annihilated my work-life balance which resulted in me being sick a lot & just being stressed for most of the year lol. I barely found time to maintain this blog which may not seem like it on the outside since I somehow managed to frequently post but it's been difficult. I know I don't have to be online 24/7 but the fear of slipping into irrelevancy due to lack of content remains. I didn't have much time to watch bls & asian shows in general which I still consider my safe space and escapism so I'm resentful that I didn't get to fully take in and enjoy the things I'm passionate about and make content about them like I did in the previous years. That being said thank god for all the weekend shows that I did manage to watch and fully focus on like Only Friends and now Cooking Crush and Cherry Magic. Those have been life savers lol and also thank god for all the talented creators who gave us tons of content; I will mention some of them below.

But aside from my personal schedule and despite not watching a lot of stuff, I still tried to keep an eye on what's going on in the BL world for my monthly breakdowns, which I still enjoy making and I will likely continue them in 2024. I also came to the conclusion that 2023 ended up being another rendition of quantity > quality in the BL-verse so not much has changed lol - not that I expected it to. We got a wild and extended mix of different genres and subgenres this year which was nice to see. We saw companies & actors experimenting a lot (with varying results), we got new ships, new fandoms and new enemies, as well as a variety of comebacks and retirements. My watchlist this year was limited to Thai BLs and my blog mostly consisted of gmmtv related content and like I said, if I had had more time I probably would have explored more different shows - but I eventually resorted to what's familiar. I guess I needed an anchor in midst of all my personal chaos lol.

But despite my short list, there were a few gems that I enjoyed. The big ones like Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken, Be My Favorite, etc., and the small, less popular ones like Be Mine Superstar, Mission Fan Possible and a few more. I enjoyed talking to friends & making content about them in the limited timeframes I had. My opinions mostly matched those of the general public but unfortunately there were a few disappointments that were bathing in a success that I could not wrap my head around - Dangerous Romance and A Boss and a Babe being at the top of that list, followed by La Pluie and also a few of the lakorns I watched. But anyway.

Anyone who knows me knows my blog has been 83% FirstKhao this year lmao, they're my favorite people in this industry and watching them act, interact & making content about them has been one of my highlights. I'm excited to see what 2024 brings for them and even if it's not a series, I'm looking forward to seeing what else they will be up to 🥺 🐈‍⬛ 🐈

I'm going into 2024 with mixed feelings but above all I hope I will get the chance to expand my watchlist a little. I will post a personal top10 of the shows I watched this year shortly; until then I want to talk a bit about some lovely people this year - I’m not good with words lmao but thank you for being you and making this hellsite a better place 🥹 lol.

@leonpob - bestie!!! 🧡 our BL opinions have drifted apart this year lmao but who's to say friendships are solely based on mutual opinions. You're the best, stay the way you are and here's to another year of sharing thoughts and hopefully finding more shows to watch together (no matter if trash or not lol) 😉😘  @mayalunas - ahhhh I loved talking to you sooo so much this year, we agree on so many things that I'm convinced we share the same BL braincells lmao. You're one of my favorite people on this website, thank you for being such a good listener and a positive & supportive person to talk to 🥺 I hope you have the best 2024!!! ily!!! 🧡 @khunvegas - GURL idk where you went this year or if you still exist sdjkds but just know I haven't forgotten about you and I miss our talks 🥺 come back pls thank. @my-wandering-rabbit - I love our random out-of-context talks once a month lmao, I appreciate you and I hope we will continue our ritual of me watching shows and you asking me questions without watching them kjsdhg @bl-recs-and-reviews - Bestie!!! I love our catch-ups on Discord, you were one of the first people I ever talked to like 4 years ago? crazy. look at us. I still love you, you're the sweetest and I love talking to you 🧡🥺 @dreamedofyou - ahh I absolutely love your blog!!! I noticed you a lot in my notifications this year so I wanted to say thank you so much for interacting with my unhinged content (mostly FK related lmao) - We haven't talked a ton but I think of you as a very nice person and I hope we can talk more next year 🥹🫶🏻

and then of course some more shoutouts go out to all the wonderful and talented creators out there; I will never be able to tag all of you so sorry in advance but here are a few that I appreciate, some of which have also mentioned me in their wrap-up posts so thank you for that!!!

@taeminie @seatawinan @loveisactivated @forcebook @jimmysea @guzhu-furen @daymork @itsallaboutbl @seatawinans @blneobin @blmpfff @wanderlust-in-my-soul @pranpat @milkpansa @raypakorn @ahxu-laowen @forcebookish @forcebookcorner @morkofday @chinzillas @seajimmy @dimpledpran @i-got-the-feels @bengiyo @benkaaoi @25shadesoffebruary @moonkhao @smittenskitten @respectthepetty @earthfluuke @pharawee @khaotunq @khaotunqs @pranink @gabrielokun @piningintrovert @zhaozi @markpakin @firstkanaphans @firstforkhao @khaotungsfirst @wen-kexing-apologist @firstkpp @firstmix @bunnakit @khaothanawat @alienwlw @ffirstkhao (I can't tag the last 4 for some reason..)

have the best 2024!!!

🧡🧡🧡

[immortal-archives]

Laurance!!!! Cringe failboy 2.0! This time in higher definition

He desperately needed an update. I was trying SOOO hard to reconcile his jacket with my fashion but… I could not… I’m just not strong enough. Instead, he has an ALL NEW OUTFIT! Practical and stylish! Garroth is on the side for style check

Some more below the cut!

Laurance’s blindness is now visual. I had a hard time trying to figure out what I wanted to do with it, but I’ve changed it to something less ableist. I will say it was really hard for a disabled woman like me hearing them talk about how his blindness was so horrible and how he’s basically dead 😭 but this is a bit different now. When he was pulled between worlds, he gained some rift sickness, as people are not supposed to do this. Everyone is now worried about the sickness spreading and killing him. The Irene statue purifies the sickness. It can’t heal what was already destroyed, so his eyes and right shoulder were heavily scared. This left him mostly blind. Everyone is grateful for his survival. His eyes turned blue as a side effect of the purification— they gained the color of diamonds, like how the rift sickness became diamonds after purification.

Laurance is now left-handed out of necessity. While he was originally a bow user, he needed to switch to a sword because it was easier to use with his reduced vision. He uses his sword as a cane for a while before Corey makes him a proper one

His new look is inspired by Kabru Dungeon Meshi because I love dungeon meshi. I do. Also, it incorporates parts of his old design into this new one. The boots are the only parts that are the same, however. Cadenza had to remake the rest herself. The single shoulder plate protects his scarred shoulder, as it’s quite sensitive. It could easily become a weakness.

As for his face, I took from the normal Ace attorney inspirations. Specifically, Klavier Gavin. They’re both bisexual dramatic pretty boy men so I think it fits

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark - Chapter Six: Halloween

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Sooo...how about a 20k word chapter? It may have slightly grown beyond my expectations. Hope you enjoy!

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Chapter three: Fearless

Chapter Four: Code Name, Farrah Fawcett

Chapter Five: Sleepover

Ao3 link

---

The nylon gown scratched at the bare skin of her chest, fluorescent lights burned her eyes and buzzed incessantly, and the dull symphony of bleeping monitors was close to driving her to madness. Eyes closed, she could easily be back in Great Ormond Street Hospital with the brightly painted walls, or the view of the British Museum’s roof from her window. Hawkins Memorial was small, the smells and sights were different. And when Rose looked to her left, instead of her friend Elaine in her oxygen mask smothered in colourful boy band stickers pulled from the pages of magazines, there was only her Mum, sitting in a narrow armchair, picking at her the red-raw beds of her nails and stewing in a tense misery. Perhaps hospitals wore on Mum even more than they did Rose. After all, she’d lost Rose’s dad in an accident and seen her only child seriously ill within a year. No wonder Mum looked peaky just being back in here, washed out and pale under the hostile lighting.

The bleeping and rhythmic line moving up and down on the screen was steady, like the slow beat of Lars Ulrich on the drums in one of the songs on Eddie’s mixtape, Fade to Black. It must have pleased Dr Bateman, for he scratched his moustache and nodded, scribbling down something in Rose’s file.

“Alrighty then,” he said, clicking his pen and putting it back in his white coat pocket. “Mr McAllister, your daughter’s heart seems to be functioning well.”

Jerry looked from Rose to her mum nervously. “Oh, I’m just her stepfather, no need to t-”

“So I see no cause for concern,” the doctor continued, not even giving Rose or her agitated mother a glance. “If there are any significant changes then have her come in, but otherwise we’ll repeat the ECG in three months and go from there. Make sure she keeps up with her meds in the meantime. Okay?”

Jerry was flustered. “Um..oh, I guess. Does that mean there’s no risk of anything going...you know...wrong?”

Her mum swallowed hard and looked away, and Rose could see she’d made fingers bleed from picking at them.

“Well,” Dr Bateman said slowly. “There’s always a chance that complications can occur down the line. But more than likely, she’ll be-”

“Eighty-twenty, isn't it doc.” Rose didn’t try to hide the disdain she felt at saying it out loud. “There is an eighty percent chance I’ll be just the same as anyone else and keep going as I am, but a twenty percent chance that I’ll develop heart failure at any time in the future.” 

The doctor grunted. “Like I said, more than likely she’ll be normal.”

“Oh good, you can hear me,” Rose exaggerated her smile. “I was beginning to think I may be invisible. Tell me, if we played Russian roulette right now, and I held a gun to your head, would you be happy with a twenty percent chance of a bullet in the chamber? One in five?”

“No need to be smart now,” his lip stiffened, moustache trembling.

Of course. Smart mouths were somehow more acceptable when you didn’t have tits. God forbid a woman talk back. She took a deep breath and looked at the charts by his side. “Aside from regularity, were you able to hear any sluggish murmurs that might mean endocarditis? No? In that case, be a dear and fetch Dr Abrams from neurology, so he can carry out the electroencephalogram and I can get out of here as quickly as bloody possible.”

The doctor’s face was thunder, he gave Jerry a pissed-off look and turned on his heel and left the small room, shiny shoes tapping on the linoleum, at least a hundred beats per minute. 

“What an unpleasant man,” her mum said. “But I do wish you wouldn’t antagonise the medical staff, Rose. If something should ever happen, it’s them who...who’ll...oh gosh, i’m feeling dizzy. I should sit down.”

Jerry held her mum’s shoulders gently. “Honey, you’re already sat down.”

Her brows drew together like she was startled. “Am I? How silly of me. It’s alright, I just haven’t been sleeping very well.”

Rose, now free of all the wires attached to her chest, swung her legs off the rickety hospital bed. “It’s not more nightmares, is it?”

“No...well, just a few.”

“Shirley,” Jerry said. “I think you should see someone about that. The Department of Energy has in-house doctors for all sorts of things, without even going through insurance. Maybe I can make an appointment with a therapist.”

That was it, her mother laughed, dropping her purse onto the floor. “Therapy, Jerry? Nonsense, I am not mentally ill. It must be all the wires and the pipes in the house, you can’t go five minutes in that house without being woken up by clanking and buzzing. I don’t need a therapist, I need a plumber!”

Another doctor burst in, an older, kooky-looking gentleman with bushy white hair and round glasses, like a smiling Einstein. 

“Dr Abrams, at your service,” he nodded toward Rose. “My colleague is as wound up as a teakettle, steam coming right out his ears. Do I have you to thank for that, Miss McAllister?”

She nodded.

“You must tell me your secret. That man’s as grouchy as a possum eating scraps from a dumpster.”

Rose smiled, immediately put at ease. “I don’t believe I've seen a possum before, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Two nurses dragged another machine, this one with an intricate web of wires, each ending in a sensor. But unlike the little sensors that had been taped to her chest, these were attached together in the snape of a cap.

He looked over the rim of his glasses as the nurse held out the cap. “I would explain the EEG to you, but I don’t think this is your first rodeo, is it Miss McAllister?”

Rose tucked her hair out the way and flattened the waves alongside her head as much as possible. “No it’s not.”

The nurses attached the sensors all over her head, as close-fitting as a swimming cap and stretching from her forehead to the nape of her neck. The machine came to life, and she sat still for a long time as they fiddled with the monitor screen and dials and knobs beneath.

Dr Abrams read through her file as the machine did its thing, and Rose stayed still. “So two years since the surgery and your cardiac arrest. Dr Bateman’s tests look good, no issues identified with your heart right now. I see the hospital in England kept you in for a lot of neurological testing after the resuscitation. Are you having any memory issues?”

“Nope.”

“Any unusual changes in your temper, sudden mood swings?”

“Define unusual,” her mum snickered, and the doctor’s mouth turned up into a smile. 

“From your mother’s reaction, I'll take that as nothing abnormal for a teenager. See, I find this a little odd. Three minutes is a long time for inactivity of the brain, permanent damage becomes very likely.”

Rose shrugged. “So they keep telling me. But I don’t feel any different than before, doctor. Except for this lovely scar.”

“Three minutes...” mum trailed off, her voice numb and distant. “They told me something was wrong, and the doctors had begun resuscitation. The nurses in the waiting room said anything beyond ten minutes meant no chance of recovery...I would have sworn that the cup of tea they shoved into my hand went cold whilst I waited, and I saw them look at their watches and shake their heads when they thought I wasn’t looking. But then the doctor came out to tell me you were actually alive after all. It might have been three minutes, but...it’s like Wordsworth’s poem, isn’t it...to see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. God knows it felt like an eternity to me.”

Rose wasn’t supposed to move her head, in case she disturbed the sensors, but she couldn’t help looking at her mum’s haunted face. No wonder she had nightmares.

“Waiting is the worst, isn’t it. It’s so difficult to go out there to a patient’s family, when something hasn’t gone the way you’d hoped.” Dr Abrams cleared his throat and looked back at the monitor, humming and holding his chin. “Well, isn’t this curious? Your brain activity looks a little different to me, maybe the sensor isn’t picking up the signals properly.”

Rose sighed. “They said that in Great Ormond Street. You can try again, but it won’t work. They said it must be a unique neurological dysfunction. Just can’t see properly into my head.”

“That’s how we met, actually,” Jerry squeezed her mum’s shoulder fondly. “They needed an electrical engineer to test their power room and some of their equipment as they thought it was faulty. I’d just left the Department for Energy and moved over, you see. So they sent me to take a look at the machine and I found Shirley in the parent’s waiting room.”

“He lingered about in that room for so long I thought he was another parent,” her mum said td. “I was always so nervous in those places, I didn’t even notice he was in overalls and had a toolbelt on!”

They really were an odd couple. Her mother had the outward appearance of a modest woman, but underneath was tough and sharp as steel. Rose’s father had been more easy to laugh and outgoing, with the kind of magnetic personality people were often drawn to, life of the party, pint in hand, cigarette in the other, always surrounded by his friends. Her mum and dad had been opposites that attracted, sparks flying, but with Jerry it was more of a...fizzle. Rose wouldn’t want something that passionless, but then perhaps nice and placid were qualities her mother valued after years of stress. 

“How odd,” the doctor said, looking at the monitor. “I might have to make a call to your old doctor in London. You know what, I have a colleague in Pennhurst who would jump at the chance to examine these results. Maybe even run your interesting brain through a test or two. If you don’t object, I could send him these results for investigation.”

“Pennhurst,” Jerry frowned. “Isn’t that the nuthouse in Kerley County?”

“Pennhurst is a mental hospital, yes,” Dr Abrams said evenly. “But it’s also an esteemed research facility, with a focus on all aspects of the human mind, from the behavioural to the biological. The warden Dr Hatch has a particular interest in neurological conditions, as well as psychology.”

“I don’t know,” her mother said. “Those places are for psychopaths, aren’t they? I don’t think that sounds like a good idea.”

Rose cleared her throat loudly, drawing their attention. “Well isn’t it a good job that i’m a legal adult, with full bodily autonomy. If I want to send my scans to a psychologist, then I’ll do it.”

Mum pouted. “I’m only looking out for you, Rosebud.” 

In her eyes, Rose was still thirteen, sickly, and fragile. Not a legal adult who’d been through more than most people her age, perfectly capable of making decisions about her future. It felt like an oppressive kind of love to Rose, one that itched even more than the nylon hospital gown. But whilst she lived under her mum and step dad's roof, she felt almost...powerless. Toothless. Neutered. Okay, perhaps not neutered, goodness knows she was more and more aware of the raging desires burning through her, particularly since she met a certain someone who should not be named. But losing a year of school and living with your mother at soon-to-be nineteen was exhausting.

“Fine,” Rose said, the fight draining right out of her. “Not now. But perhaps next time.”

---

All the way home Rose stared out the window, wiping the fog from the glass with her sleeve, humming a tune that had been stuck in her head for weeks. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it first, but it wouldn’t go away. Da da-da da-da daaa-dum, da-

“Boy, a whole Monday off school,” Jerry said from the driver’s seat. “I know hospital’s aren’t fun, but that’s a bonus, eh? Four day week sounds nice to me.”

“I guess so,” Rose leaned against the steamed-up window, October rolling slowly into chilly, foggy weather. 

Mum caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “More time to sleep off that hangover too.”

“Oh god, not again.”

“I’m all for you bringing friends over to the house, but did you have to get quite so drunk? And on the old playground too? Robin might need a tetanus shot after your shenanigans on the rocket ship.”

Rose’s head throbbed at the memory of her, Robin and Steve climbing into the big climbing frame shaped like a rocket ship after a few too many fruity cocktails, singing Life on Mars at the top of their lungs. Robin had scratched herself on a loose screw, so they had to cut their excursion short and return home, clattering in the kitchen at 2am to find a band-aid and some rubbing alcohol. 

Sunday morning had been hell, but hell was far more fun when you had company. The three of them had hunkered down under a mountain of blankets in her room, nibbling on crackers and sipping ginger ale, until they felt more human again, and Robin was able to return home without alerting her parents to the fact that she’d been drunk.

The very same playground whizzed by the window now, and they pulled into the driveway of 1050 Morehead, though no one in the town called it anything other than Creel House. As they got out of the car and her mother opened the door, she wondered for the first time who the Creel family truly were. What happened to them here? Why did the murder live on in the town’s memory almost thirty years later?

Mum stumbled as she entered the house, clutching her head. Rose leapt forward to help, but when her mother turned around, her face was pale as bone, a trickle of blood seeping from her nose.

“Shit,” Rose hissed.

“It’s nothing,” she said, unconvincingly.

Rose guided her into the kitchen, holding her arm. She’d surpassed her mother in height by the time she was twelve, and now she was startled at how fragile she felt. Mothers were supposed to be there, a constant, as large and warm as life. “Come on Mum, let’s get you cleaned up. I think you should go straight to the doctor, you’re not looking well.”

“It’s just my luck, isn’t it. I felt fine when we were in the hospital, surrounded by medical staff. But the moment I walk through this door...”

Rose ran a cloth under the tap and paused, staring at the swirling water. She had been fine. Tired, perhaps. But not ill. “Here you go,” she said, dabbing away the blood from her face. “Let me get you some painkillers.”

“I think we should take you to the family doctor,” Jerry intervened. “I know you don’t want a fuss, but we need to get you checked out. It’s either that, or we go right back to the hospital and into the ER.”

The threat of an emergency room perked her mother up. “Alright, family doctor it is.”

Jerry opened the front door and guided her out, looking back at Rose. “Are you okay to hold the fort, kiddo?”

Rose wanted to be there, to make sure her mother was well. But she knew deep down that having her child there would only lead to her mother putting on a brave face, and she needed to be Shirley for once, not just mum. 

“Absolutely,” she forced herself to smile. “Won’t burn the place down. Cross my heart.”

The door closed and Rose was left in the grant house, alone. Once the car’s engine faded outside, the silence was a muffled, oppressive thing, making her ears ring. But after a while the tap dripped, boards somewhere creaked, and the place felt almost...alive. 

Alone at home for the first time in...well, possibly ever, Rose looked at the high ceilings, walnut-panelled Victorian interior, and felt what everyone else felt when they looked at the place. Fear. She had no idea where the murders took place or of their nature. Was it here in the kitchen, or were people slaughtered as they slept in their beds upstairs? Did they go quickly, or...or were the walls of this place witness to unimaginable pain and terror? Had there been blood, did it seep into the floorboards? Was it there still, after all these years?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she overcome with the need to be outside. She grabbed a book from the living room table and went out onto the porch, taking refuge on the loveseat by the front door, the walls of the house a thin barrier between Rose and the imagined horrors that lay within.

The leather bindings of the old book bit into her skin. Wuthering Heights. Oh great. She was stuck in the chilly October air without a jacket or even a cardigan, with an eerie gothic novel about lost love, paranoia and a windswept, menacing mansion out on the Yorkshire moors. Why couldn’t it have been Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams, something to make her laugh?

By the time they arrived home, Rose peeled herself front he loveseat with numb fingers and listened intently to the insightful diagnosis from the family doctor: migraines. Take a tylenol and come back if it keeps happening. It made Rose feel powerless, and frustrated. 

Rather than face Jerry’s beige and very questionable attempts in the kitchen, she made their dinner, finding some peace in the repetitive task of chopping and cooking, layering lasagna sheets and sauce, watching the oven absentmindedly and waiting for an egg timer to go off.

“She’s asleep,” Jerry said, leaning against the doorframe. “But I’m sure your mom will love this when she wakes up.”

Rose could hold back no longer, she had to know. “I’ll heat some up whenever she needs it. I...I got to thinking when you were at the doctors. What happened in this house?”

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, kiddo.”

“Maybe, but I’m not asking on a whim. I think I need to know.”

He was as placed and calm as ever, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a floor, four walls, and a roof, like any other house. Look at the hospital we were in today, people die there every day. But it doesn’t make you scared, does it?”

Rose’s eyes narrowed, feeling oddly threatened by his dismissal. Jerry was never like this, he was a goofy idiot, but he was harmless. “Not knowing is worse. I’ll always be wondering and thinking about it, guessing which room, how it happened, or who was killed.”

He folded his arms. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“If you must be like that, then go ahead,” Rose said confidently. “But don’t forget I’m not a child...and I’m not your child.”

Most of the town knew of the Creel House and its backstory; if he wouldn’t tell her, she would find someone else to do it.

“No, you’re not,” Jerry said, masking whatever he was feeling with an impassive face. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go check on your mother and get some rest. I need to be at the plant by 5am tomorrow, before the night shift crew finish their shift. The Department’s facilities are having power issues, and we need to tighten the ship before it affects their research.“

In the two years since he arrived in her mother’s life, Rose had never seen him so petty, or act so strange. As she ate alone in the vast dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and staring out the tall window to the playground opposite, she felt a rush of hate for this grand, lofty space. 

It was her mother’s idea to move once Rose had the all clear and her health was back on track. With her and Jerry newly married, their little home was too small for the three of them. WIth Rose out of sync at school and her tentative friends all moved on to university or jobs, many of them moving from town, there was little left to cling onto.

Jerry was offered a promotion with the Department for Energy. When the house was sold, the exchange rate and expensive UK housing market compared to rural central Indiana somehow left them with way more than they’d expected. Enough for the real estate agent to sense her mother would fall in love with the Victorian gothic mansion that no one else would buy, at a dirt cheap price. 

It was strange, to have space, and for them as a family to have spare money. Rose’s father had been a dashing, red-haired Yorkshire coal miner whose love for life and taste for drink never stopped, despite the miner’s strikes putting him out of work in the 70s. He’d taken odd jobs, but there hadn’t been anything stable for years. Rose knew he’d not made life easy for her mother, and it hurt...it hurt whenever she thought of him, despite all the things people had said. All she had ever known was a father who told her stories, and always played games with her even when he was exhausted, when others would have said no. They danced and danced around their little living room listening to his beloved sixties and seventies rock, twirling her around until she was breathless and dizzy, laughing so much she thought she might burst. 

Yes, there had been shouting between her parents and more strife than she could really comprehend at a young age, but life without him was simply dull and colourless. She would rather live in her tiny, cramped two-bed terrace and have him back, than be here in this eerie mansion. But here she was. Eighteen and putting together the beginnings of a new life. Trying to find her tribe out in the world. And even if the house wasn’t home, she had a feeling the people who had become close to her over the last month might just be.

---

The week marchedon, despite missing school on Monday. A drumbeat of classes, American History more interesting than she’d anticipated, others like biology and math frighteningly dull and covering ground she’d already trodden before. The Hellfire guys waved her over at lunch as they always did, but something was...off. Eddie brooded at the head of the table, not engaging in conversation beyond his usual rants about the lack of creativity or personality in the curriculum.

But when Jeremy from the party kids clique turned up to school with a full-blown A Flock of Seagulls haircut - slicked down at the front with crispy, wing-like structures carefully constructed with a full can of hairspray - and Eddie didn’t even mention it? Jeremy who’d put him in detention for smoking in the boys bathroom only two weeks ago? Rose knew something was wrong. She put aside any weirdness she might feel after learning of his potted romantic history, more clear than ever that whilst there had been flirting in the beginning, nothing was truly going to happen between them, and tried to talk to him on Tuesday. But he was sullen and withdrawn, enough for Gareth, Gareth of all people, to tell him to snap out of it and apologise to Rose for being a dick.

On Thursday morning she was paired with Robin in Driver’s Ed, both of them horrifyingly clumsy and dangerous behind the wheel, creating an air of chaos and terror in the car that scared the instructor half to death. Rose couldn’t help it if she had difficulty remembering right from left, she’d always been that way, before the little brush with death.

She emerged on Friday in a great mood, her mum feeling better, the weather cool and crisp, and ready for another Hellfire session and pitting her fledgling necromancer against the Cult of Vecna, the very best part of her Friday’s. Yes, perhaps that was partly due to sitting by Eddie’s side for hours as he became the charismatic Dungeon Master, sweeping them up with his skillful narration, theatrical energy and passion for the game. Why shouldn’t it be? Friends enjoyed each other’s company, didn’t they?

Lunchtime rolled around, and with it came an air of anticipation. Maybe it was the impending session, or the cafeteria splurging out on pizza on a Friday, but there was a definite buzz in the air. Except for Rose, who yawned her way through it, half-listening to their banter.

“I’m telling you, man,” Eddie said confidently at the table’s head. “It’s happening. AD/DC are playing in Indy, Iron Maiden are coming to Evansville...I am going to find tickets if it kills me.”

“You have contacts, right?” Dustin lowered his head, and gave him a knowing look. “Like, people who get you things. Things that are...difficult to come by.”

Eddie scoffed. “Not the kind who sell concert tickets.”

Robin gasped in mock surprise and turned to Dustin. “Dusty bun, are you referring to...drugs? Or is this some kind of comic book thing that will go completely over my head?”

“Dusty bun?” Eddie paused with a slice of pizza inches from his mouth, surrounded by the older guys laughter. “Buckley, have you been holding out on me? Where’d that come from?”

“It’s so cute,” Robin began. “It comes from-”

“No,” Dustin threw his hands up. “Nope, I am not going through this again.”

Eddie’s pizza dropped on the tray, forgotten, and he leaned onto the table. “Oh come on, Dusty bun. No harm meant, man. Ignorant kids think up ignorant names. How else do you think I was dubbed Eddie the Freak?”

Lucas was too eager to spill. “Oh, this wasn’t thought up by a bully. That’s the cutesy nickname his girlfriend has for him. It’s barf-inducing at the best of times, especially when he calls her Suzie-poo. What is she, a poodle?”

Eddie was struck in the heart by cupid’s imaginary arrow, slumping back in his chair and holding his chest. Rose couldn’t stop her sleepy smile, completely charmed by the way he acted out his feelings, by the way he never reacted as people thought he would. She left less tired, and more energised as she watched.

“Love,” Eddie clutched the imaginary arrow in his chest. “Turns off all the rational thought in the brain. Enslaved by the sorcerer that is Cupid, made to do his bidding. Love makes you do the crazy, right?”

Rose’s smile died slowly as her mind kicked into gear. Which of his girlfriends was he thinking of when he monologued about love? Was it the record label girl from California? Was it Chrissy? As the table laughed over Eddie’s joke, she couldn’t help but feel fragile, and defensive on behalf of Dustin...or so she told herself.

“Not really,” she said out loud, without really thinking it through. Eddie looked to her straight away, big brown eyes so wide and deep she thought she’d drown in them, too difficult to look away from. She felt the whole table watching, though she couldn’t quite break away from his eyes, “I don’t think it’s crazy. I think it’s sweet.”

“See?” Dustin said. “This is why none of you have girlfriends, and I do. Girls like emotional vulnerability, and pet names are just one facet of that.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Mike added sullenly.

“And you’re always talking about her or writing her letters...didn’t you even give her the name El?”

Mike thought about it for a minute. “I suppose.”

Chris’ mouth was dropped open again. “Suzie-poo I get, but how do you go from Jane to El?”

“No reason,” Mike laughed nervously. “No reason at all, just thought it...suited her.”

Eddie snapped his fingers at his friend. “See, case-in-point. Who comes up with the nickname El for a girl named Jane? Chris is right, it’s weird. Hence, driven by the mushy, goo-brained beast that is love. Come on, Rose, back me up on this one. I bet your boyfriends have given you all kinds of mushy names.”

She sank lower in her chair, but there was no hope of disappearing. She thought of all the lovely things that came from Eddie’s mouth, the ‘Sweetheart’s’ and even the occasional ‘Princess’, or one memorable ‘baby’. She hoped it would feel like that, one day, if she ever found someone who actually liked her back. “I haven’t had any. Boyfriends, I mean, not pet names...aside from Mum calling me Rosebud. I can’t even blame it on being sick...I think I'm just too awkward. I put my foot in it with everyone I ever meet.”

Oh great. Eddie’s eyes widened even further. Stupid, charming doe-eyes, making her feel inadequate yet again. 

“You’re kidding, right? How is that even possible? You’re so...” he trailed off, chin propped on his hand. Their eyes were locked, all the noise in the room faded away, and she suddenly didn’t care what the end of the sentence was, as long as she could look at him like this forever.

Jeff prodded Eddie's arm, which made him snap to attention. “Rose. I mean, you’re so Rose. There’s no one else like you. I mean, kind and nice, and uh, one could say you were objectively pretty. You know, to some people, who are into that kind of thing.”

He was stumbling now, and the whole table knew it. Something weird happened to Dustin, whose face transformed from passive listening, to a little confusion with his brow puckered and head tilted to the side, and then his entire face lit up and mouth dropped open. Lucas casually elbowed him in the ribs and he hissed in pain, distracting everyone for a moment and giving Eddie and Rose a second to recover.

Robin nudged her knee under the table, and gave her a little nod, like she was about to save the day. What was it with prodding and jabbing today? Did everyone just wake up and decide on minor violence?

Robin began to speak. “Oh, don’t let her fool you. There was this one guy, right? Good kisser, kind of crazy about you, but-”

Rose kicked Robin’s foot, stopping her mid sentence. Yes, she’d told Robin all about Simon the Skinhead from the pub back home, but that entire fling was only fleeting, and it wasn’t the kind of story she wanted coming out at the lunch table. Besides, they’d only snogged a few times behind the back of the Nag’s Head, until both of his front teeth were knocked out in a bare knuckle boxing match. Rose liked to think she hadn’t stopped it just for that reason - she wasn’t superficial, though his smile was much harder to look at afterward - it was more that he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. A dangerous one. And that was months before she’d left for America.

Robin shrugged and mouthed sorry, taking a big crunch of her apple as a blatant distraction, chewing slowly and avoiding eye contact. 

Great. Now the whole of Hellfire was awkward and silent. Or in Dustin, Mike and Lucas’ case, giving each other knowing looks and whispering, eyes still focused on Eddie and Rose.

Thankfully a hand emerged from nowhere, slapping down a pastel pink flyer on the empty space in the table’s centre, between Eddie’s Dr Pepper and Jeff’s lunch tray.

“It’s the end of the goddamn world,” Gareth announced loudly, stood behind the younger guys, his arm thrust between Dustin and Lucas’ heads. Rose flinched, Robin dropped the apple, and the younger guys squealed. 

“What the hell?” Jeff asked, snatching the flyer. “A Streetcar named Desire. Are you joining drama club now Gareth? Who are you gonna audition for, the sister? I knew all those Hellfire sessions playing the princess or the tavern wench would pay off eventually.”

“Fuck off, man,” he said defensively, dropping into his usual seat by Eddie, a bundle of ripped plaid, black denim, combat boots and attitude. “Just keep reading.”

Jeff mumbled to himself, until his face fell. “Oh man, oh no...how did we miss this?”

“I don’t know,” Gareth sighed. “But I stopped off at Ms Click’s class just to be sure. It’s happening tonight, for the next three weeks.”

Eddie had been staring blankly at the table, and sat up suddenly, ripping the flyer from Jeff’s hand. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“What is it?” Rose asked. “I can't take the suspense, what’s happening? Do we not like the works of Tennessee Williams? I have thoughts...he’s no Noël Coward, but his plays aren’t that bad.”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “The drama club needs the prop room until Thanksgiving, for rehearsals and the play itself. Goddamn it, all our stuff is there, the chair, my goblet...you know what I'm like without ambience, man. I can’t do Hellfire in Gareth’s garage again.”

Groans and curses echoed around the table, like it was indeed the end of the world. Rose and Robin exchanged a look of disbelief, but it was Mike who pointed his finger in the air and came to the rescue.

“My basement! We used to play D&D all day there in middle school. It’s dark and downstairs-”

“Duh,” Gareth mocked.

“Yeah, that might work,” Lucas added. “It’s kind of cosy. And Mrs Wheeler makes the best pizza rolls.”

Eddie gave him a scathing look. “I appreciate it, Wheeler, I really do. But didn’t you say your Mom is kind of uptight? Does she know you hang around with a bunch of scary, satan-worshipping seniors and Eddie the freak Munson?”

“She doesn’t exactly know,” Mike deflated, flopping onto the lunch table like he was suddenly removed of his spine. “And she wasn’t too happy about Nancy and I being involved in the whole mall fire thing; she grounded me until sophomore year, in theory at least.”

Eddie’s smile was bitter. “I don’t want to be the source of drama in suburbia, so we'll have to think again. I appreciate the offer though.”

Chris, silent thus far, closed his gaping mouth and added his own idea. “We could just steal the props we normally use and take Hellfire to another classroom for three weeks, couldn’t we?”

“They need the chair and table for the play,” Gareth said, crushing their hopes. “And I don’t think the classrooms will be up to our Dungeon Master’s exacting standards. Plus, they’re locked.”

The seed of an idea was blooming in Rose’s mind. She watched throw out a dozen different ideas and shoot them all down, and worked up the courage to add her own. “We could have Hellfire at my house.”

Eddie caught on first, attuned to her whenever she spoke, brows coming together in a frown. No one else had noticed.

Rose cleared her throat and tried again, louder. “I said, you could have Hellfire at my place. Everything inside is either crumbling apart, or properly restored to its former Victorian splendour. Lots of big fireplaces, candles, cobwebs...you know, the full haunted house experience.”

“It’s perfect,” Dustin said, beaming a great big smile. “Sounds even better than the drama room.”

Eddie hummed, toying with the ring on his right hand, the one with the black stone. “Won’t your parents be there?”

“I can ask them to go out for the day. Jerry’s been dying to visit this antique fair in Cartersville. It would be just us for most of the day. We could even do it on Halloween next Saturday, ” Rose gave him a meaningful stare, and did a dramatic gesture like she’d just remembered something. “Oh, that’s right, only if you actually can come inside. I know how selective you are about whose home you will come into...like a vampire without an invitation. Is it too scary for you, Munson?”

The tension crackled all the way across the table, everyone looking from left to right, waiting for him to respond. Eddie’s eyes were wickedly dark, even in the harsh cafeteria light. His smile was wicked too, teeth biting into his bottom lip, half way between a grimace and a grin. Touche, she thought. 

“There is very little that scares me, sweetheart,” he said evenly. “But I gather the house in question gets a lot of traffic these days, doesn’t it? Lots of people coming to and fro. Are you sure there is room for us lowly freaks next Saturday? Can you fit us into your busy social calendar?”

What the hell? Rose had no clue what he was even talking about. Eddie had left last Friday night, and she’d not seen him again until three days ago. 

“I won’t be coming, that’s for sure,” Robin interrupted, sensing the awkwardness. “Not that I am in Hellfire, or wanna play the dungeon game whatsoever. But I can’t look at your place without feeling sick, and the memory coming back from last week. I drove by with my parents on Tuesday and I had to fake car sickness just looking at the swings. And I’m never car sick.”

Rose was focused on Eddie alone, watching the twitch of his full lips, his narrowing eyes, knowing that something was going on, but clueless as to what. “So are we on, Dungeon Master? You’ll dare to come in?”

He let the tense silence drag on for a second, leaning forward on his forearm, the zip-chain on his jacket clanking on the table. “You bet we are, McAllister. Next Saturday. One PM. It’ll be the mid-point of the Cult of Vecna campaign, the one I've been planning for months. The adventure should be a long and agonising one, so prepare for it.”

Rose nodded, and the shrill school bell broke the tension around the table. Hellfire may be disrupted, but it looked like she had to play host, and Eddie might break that promise to enter her house after all. She wondered what had changed his mind, if anything had happened with Chrissy, or whoever else it might involve. Perhaps it wasn’t her place to know.

---

Three o’clock had her wandering the parking lot, working what to do with a few spare hours now that Hellfire was cancelled. Jerry was due to pick her up at seven, straight from a shift at work. Mum wasn’t home. She could get the bus home, but the thought of unlocking the door to that empty house, and spending several hours alone in it, wasn’t a pleasant one. Maybe she could go to the public library or Family Video, and pester Robin and Steve for a while.

Instead, her weary feet took her across the football field and on to the well-trodden path to the woods, crunching over leaves, stepping into the clearing. Empty. She sat at the picnic table and traced the little drawings of bats with her fingers, remembering the last time she was here, a couple of weeks ago. The near-kiss, the butterflies, the mixtape.

She pulled out her English notebook with the intention of studying, but her heart led her to the Charlotte Bronte novel hidden deep in her bag. Jane Eyre, her comfort blanket, which she��d read more times than she could count. Despite the allure of Jane and Mr Rochester’s fiery proposal scene, moments later found herself yawning and resting her cheek against the page. Just for a second, huddling in her scarf for warmth in the autumn air, lying gently on the book. Just a second.

“...no, Jeremy, I am not going to hook you up with my supplier. I told you, this is what’s on offer.”

Eddie’s voice drifted through the trees, stirring her awake. His voice was nice. So nice.

“Come on, Munson. If you have ket, don’t you have a little coke? Just this once?”

“No can do. If you don’t like it, you can go to Cartersville and find another dealer. I know a few guys that hang out at the biker bar on Sycamore Road, but they carry.”

“Guns?”

Eddie scoffed. “Did you think I meant candy or something? And they’re not particularly friendly to guys like yourself, who think they just stepped out or Risky Business. Come on, Jeremy, it’s October. You don’t need sunglasses. And that blazer looks freakin’ cold.”

The other, nasal voice must belong to this Jeremy. A name she recognised, one of the party kids who sat opposite Hellfire’s lunch table and gave them hell. Eddie in particular.

“Look, if you can’t do coke, then ket will do.”

“Not at school,” Eddie said firmly, with none of the gentleness she’d come to know from him. “Weed is one thing, but I can’t exactly hide ket in my lunch box, can I?”

“Wait...what the hell? Who's the random chick?” Jeremy called out.

She stirred fully from sleep, her brain whirring quickly to keep up. “Eddie?” Her voice was croaky.

He was running over to her, a hand pressed against her back, his concerned face hovering over her. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Shit. Shit. She’d not seen a drug deal before, but it wasn’t a good idea to get in the middle of one, was it? “Sorry. I don’t know what happened, I was just resting my eyes...and I've just taken over your spot, I'm sorry, I can get out of your way.”

Jeremy took off his oversized glasses and squinted at her. “That the new chick? I don’t want anyone else knowing about this conversation, Munson. If she talks-”

“It’s okay,” Eddie said to her, under his breath. “Just trust me.” Then he quickly reared back and crossed the clearing, full of intimidating energy, until he had Jeremy the party kid pinned up against a tree.

“No one is talking, Jeremy. Not me, the drug dealer, or you, the buyer. Who the hell are you going to talk to, the cops? The principal? And if we’re not talking, the completely unrelated bystander sat at a table in the woods, who just slept through our conversation, definitely isn’t. Understood?”

“Jesus,” the guy choked out. “Understood.”

“And if you so much as look in her direction, i’ll make sure no one in central Indiana sells to you again. I’m not so sure you’ll get through finals and into that fancy college without a serious quantity of uppers, or at least that’s what the gossips say about you at school. Are you a gossip, Jeremy?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, sunglasses dropped to the forest floor. “I’ll catch you another time, man.”

Eddie smiled a toothy grin and tapped him on the cheek. “Good. Now get out of here, shop’s closed for the day.”

Jeremy fled without his sunglasses, a blur of navy blazer and his bouncy Flock of Seagulls hair flapping in the wind, disappearing back in the direction of the school. Eddie took a deep breath, sagging just a little, like the adrenaline had worn off and he couldn’t keep up an intimidating posture.

“I’m sorry,” Rose tried to stand up, knocking her knee on the picnic table and hissing in pain. “This is your spot. It’s only fair that I go.”

“Wait,” he rushed over, black lunch pail dropped on the table. He grabbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up, like he was struggling for words. “I should be sorry. This is a public place, and I don’t want to get you involved in any of that shit. He’s chicken shit, by the way. There’s nothing he could do or say that could get you into trouble, not without admitting he’s been using a serious amount of class A drugs just to get through senior year.”

Rose scrubbed her face with her hand, feeling totally awake and alert. “Thank you. That was...you didn’t need to put yourself in any trouble for me. He won’t come after you, will he?”

Eddie pulled a face of disbelief, his smile returning in full force, brushing her concern away with his hands, flapping around like an awkward idiot. “Jeremy? No way. He might throw a few insults my way at lunch, but that’s the extent of his power. You, milady, are totally safe.”

“Good,” she sighed.

He cocked his head, looking over her books, her position at the table, her rumpled hair. “What are you doing out here in the cold, anyways? Couldn’t get a ride home with...um...anyone else? Not Robin and, uh, Steve?”

“They’re working. I did think about going to Family Video for a while, but I just wanted some space to just be. And Robin and Steve are kind of full on.”

He shifted from one foot to another, jean chain jangling. “Right. Do...do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, I came to your spot, didn’t I?”

Eddie looked around for a minute, and dropped on the bench opposite her. “Yeah, you did. And why is that, exactly? Not that I mind at all, I just...after the cafeteria, I did think I might not be your favourite person right now.”

Rose frowned. “It’s not that, not at all. I came here to study English, actually, but was led astray by Charlotte Bronte.”

Eddie poked at the cover. “She any good?”

She cleared her throat and spoke aloud, voice tinged with the emotion those words always made her feel: “ Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart!”

Eddie was taken aback. “Damn, that was good. You didn’t even read that from the page!”

“Jane Eyre is kind of my hero,” she looked down at the table, tracing the outline of Eddie’s drawn bats with her fingertips yet again. “She’s invisible, but she pushes through it to find her strength, her courage.”

“Invisible, huh,” Eddie said, with sincere doubt. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It wasn’t,” Rose replied without thinking. “But I don’t think I am anymore.”

“Yeah, definitely not. Highly visible, in a good way, I mean...ugh, I should just stop now. But I’ve gotta say, sleeping outside in the woods isn’t a good idea, even if you were invisible. You don’t know what’s lurking out there,” he gestured to the trees, shrouded in gloom just before sunset.

“I’ve not been sleeping well. I must have become a bit too tired. ”

Eddie's concern was genuine, and he leaned toward her. “Everything okay? I heard you were at the hospital on Monday for tests. That’s gotta be tough, with the amount of time you’ve spent there over the years. Like being back in the war zone, you know? Shellshocked, or something? Or at least that’s what Uncle Wayne calls it, and he was in Vietnam.”

Rose could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She was touched that he’d remembered, that he’d thought about her during the week, and put himself in her shoes long enough to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling. “I’ve had better weeks.”

He could sense the stress behind her words, she just knew it. “And a free afternoon studying the works of Edgar Allen Poe in the woods was just the thing to top it off? ”

“Poe is very cathartic,” she defended quickly, coming alive again. “I thought you would like his work, it fits with the whole anti-establishment, metal vibe you have going on.”

His smile was blinding. “Oh really? Maybe I haven’t had the best teacher. O’Donnell isn’t exactly inspiring. Hence why I'm still here, seeking that Holy Grail of graduation, the D of destiny.”

“I could help you,” Rose picked at her sleeve. “If English is key to graduating, why not call in a high level spellcaster to help you make it through the adventure?”

“Wait,” he said slyly. “Offering to tutor me and using D&D language to do it? Am I asleep? Is it me that’s napping at the table, and this is all a dream?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, her heart light because they were getting on again. “I can get you more than a D, Munson. I think a B minus is achievable.”

“Woah, woah, don’t aim for the stars, sweetheart. Munson’s don’t get that far.”

The idea that his opinion of himself was so low, that he made jokes and projected his lack of confidence in such a way, was so uncomfortable it almost caused her physical pain.

“You’re the only Munson I know, and you are more than capable,” she said confidently. “This is the mind behind the Cult of Vecna, and all of our other campaigns. You have no idea how much Dustin and the guys love those campaigns. They worship you, and they are incredibly smart. Annoyingly so. If you don’t believe me, believe in their good judgement.”

Eddie blushed, cheeks darkening as he ducked his head and dimpling as he smiled. “Okay. Can’t argue with that logic.”

“Do you want to go to the school library some time, or...” Rose paused; she could see his unease at the very thought of the building behind them, and remembered his agitated state in English class last week, like he couldn’t function under the bright lights and with the drone of O’Donnell’s voice. “Or somewhere else. I’d offer my place but I know it might not be ideal. Maybe...maybe yours?”

His mouth popped open. “You want to come to my place?”

“Yes. If it’s okay. I don’t want to presume.”

“No,” Eddie looked smug. “I get it, the allure of the Forest Hills Trailer Park is too strong for you to resist. You can come over sometime, Ms McAllister. As long as you don’t have anyone that would be bothered by it.”

Rose scrunched up her nose. Did he still think her parents were uppity, high class kind of people, just because of the square footage of her house? It was big, yes, but it was dirt cheap. And there was nothing posh about her or her family, so no trailer park was beneath her, or whatever he seemed to be implying.

“First of all, never call me Ms McAllister again,” she pointed a finger near his face, causing him to laugh and hide behind his own curtain of hair. “Second, no one is going to be bothered. Except Dustin, who probably will be terribly jealous that anyone is spending time with you outside of school, because he loves you desperately.”

“Stop,” Eddie swatted her hand away playfully. “You make it sound so embarrassing.”

“No. It’s sweet. He adores you and wants to be you. Honestly, with those high powered walkie talkies he has going on, he may be bugging your house. Or at least biking over to the trailer park and looking longingly through the window with binoculars as you practice guitar or write up campaigns.”

“This is getting so weird.”

Laughter bubbled up from her chest, warm and sweet as honey. “He likes having you as a role model, that’s all. He sees the good in you. And I have to admit, Dustin is not often wrong about facts or people, as much as I would occasionally like him to be.”

Eddie moaned, slapping his forehead. “I forgot. After lunch he cornered me in the hall, asking if we could finish Hellfire early next Saturday so he can go Trick or Treating. He’s fifteen. Fifteen.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Mmm. It’s the way people suddenly get this licence to be interesting and act scary, that’s what irritates me. Like they’re different people for one night, just because normative society dictates it. Costumes, though...costumes I get.”

“So why don’t combine Hellfire and costumes, so he doesn’t miss out?” Rose asked. He raised a brow, looking sceptical, but she ploughed on. “No, wait. Not ghosts or witches. We could dress as our characters. What could be more atmospheric than that? Come on, you know it’s a good idea.”

He thought about it hard. “Fine, you’ve convinced me. I guess I can bring Eddie the Bard to life for a night. But for now, carriage duties. Let’s get you home.”

---

Rose had never seen so much paisley and tie-dye in her life. Boxes upon boxes of clothes in shades of orange-brown, acres upon acres of plaid shirts, and endless racks of capes and flared jackets, the kind that her grandmother would have worn. The thrift store was a huge, cavernous store behind Main Street, full of items donated by the people of Kerley County, sold on at cheap prices. There were stained and faded couches that were nonetheless comfortable, old fashioned sideboards, retro drinks cabinets, and crockery and homeware in great big stacks. Books, too, and Rose had a dog-eared romance paperback under one arm ready to pay at the counter once she was done, lured in by the shirtless hunk dressed in nothing but a kilt on the cover and the promise of a clandestine, bodice-ripping romance. But her target today was the great big section of the store dedicated to second hand clothes.

She spied a scrap of ivory beneath a pinstripe skirt and pulled out a peasant blouse, the crinkled sleeves and body gathered at the top, floaty and feminine. She held it up to her body. It had a certain Medieval air to it, one she enjoyed.

“What do necromancer’s wear, anyway?” Robin called, emerging from a coat rack. “Ooh, that’s pretty, you look like you just came from a rendezvous with a stable boy. Oh my gosh...is that...is that straw in your hair?” She teased, so convincing that Rose actually put her hand to her head tocheck.

Rose groaned. “Robin!”

Her friend’s laugh was throaty and contagious. “I can’t help it, you’re too gullible.”

“I don’t know” Rose toyed with the ruched neckline which dipped where it laced up at the front, working out where it might sit on her chest. “I think it might be too low. Waaay too low.”

Robin threw on a fur coat, striking a dramatic pose and putting on a Transatlantic accent like an old movie star. “If it’s the scar you’re worried about, don’t be, darling. I have stretch marks pretty much the same size, and I don’t give a damn.”

“Alright, Scarlett O-Hara. Wait, are you sure you’re not auditioning for Blanche Dubois right now? Are you secretly in the drama club?”

“Oh please. I can’t be contained and made to remember lines. I’m au naturel. You should get the shirt, but isn’t your character, like, on the cusp of being evil?”

“You’re right, it’s not evil enough” Rose said, folding the blouse up and turning back to the clothing racks with a huff. “She’s a sorceress with a dark and twisted power, hell bent on revenge for her family’s death and learning necromancy to bring them back to life. Oh, and she wears light armour.”

“Hmm. Not sure ‘light armour’ is a category in the thrift store. ‘Lightly stained’, maybe.”

lHey there, Ladies,” a deep voice announced right at their backs. “Shouldn’t you two broads be back in the saloon serving whiskey?”

A figure popped up behind them, cowboy hat lowered and covering his face, foot propped up on a box. He raised the rim of the hat and Rose’s heart rate slowed down.

“Steve?!” Robin brandished a coat hanger as a makeshift weapon, hyperventilating. “When did you get so stealthy?”

He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “God, sorry. I’ll make more noise next time. But look at this hat? What do you think, am I cowboy material?”

“I can see that, actually,” Rose added. “You’d make a good authority figure, protecting the town from rogue gunslingers. The hat looks perfect for the keg party on Saturday you keep going on about. You might be able to rope in some broads whilst you’re there. Or cows...or horses...what do they even catch with the rope-thing?”

Steve raised his brows, “Cattle. Come on, I thought you were smart. But wait...do you really think I should wear this to Kyle’s party? Bianca might be there, and I was this close to dating her last year, she was all over me after the Nancy thing ended. Maybe Bianca likes herself a rugged cowboy.”

“No, Steve!” Robin cried loudly. “That is not keg party material! I know you got invited to the ‘biggest party of senior year’ when you’ve already graduated and we, the actual seniors, are not even a lowly rung on the social hierarchy and have no invite whatsoever, but can you stop rubbing salt in that wound already?”

“Geez,” Steve whined. “I was going to invite you. Apparently Tammy Thompson is going. Tammy who, you know...” he dropped into a terribly un-subtle whisper. “Who you spent a significant amount of time crushing over in sophomore year.”

Robin shook her head vigorously, shaking off the fur coat. “Nope, nu-uh. I’m not fifteen any more, Stevie. I’ve grown past this particular crush.”

“Oh, well some of your band geeks are going to be there too.”

Robin shrugged. “Maybe. Can I ditch early if it sucks?”

“Fine,” Steve said, resigned. “I guess authority figures have to stay sober to protect the townsfolk, or whatever. Rose, the invite is open to you too.”

There were very few, or specifically no parties like this in her past. By the time she was well enough to attend one and back in school at home, everyone was old enough to drink legally, and the need for clandestine gatherings had shrivelled away. “I would like that,” she admitted. “I watched so many teen movies before I moved over, and every one of them ends in some kind of raging keg party where parents mysteriously go out of town for the night and kids trash the house. I always thought...if I was invited to something like that, everything would be okay. I’d have made friends. Gone through the whole quintessential high school experience.”

Steve was shocked. “That’s horrifyingly sad, you know that? I’m about to shed a tear here. Now you have to come so we can fulfil your childhood dreams. Tomorrow, eight o’clock?”

Rose slammed the table, tipping over a box of scarves. “Dammit, I have to stay home tomorrow. My mum’s not well, I need to look after her. Jerry’s working a night shift at the plant, again.”

“There will be other parties,” Robin promised. “It’s only October. Just wait until spring, Hawkins will be one series of keggers after the other, and we’ll go to them all if you like.”

Rose grinned. “Next time, count me in. Now, for the bigger challenge. I have to find clothes worthy of a necromancer for less than twenty bucks from a thrift store.”

“Well,” Steve picked up a heap of corduroy and held it far away from his body. “If it helps, I think someone may have died in these pants. Maybe they were resurrected in them too?”

Robin squealed and ducked down, bringing up a box from underneath the table, her new bangs just visible over the top and she held it aloft. “Oh my god, I may have just found the answer to all your problems. Look!”

The box was still taped up, but on the side, someone had written in loopy script: Rocky Horror Picture Show, Hawkins Amateur Dramatic Society, ‘82.

---

“Be sensible, Rosebud,” Mum said, about to step into the car. “I know you said your book club friends aren’t the partying type, but you’re teenagers alone in a big house. Things are bound to get a bit rowdy.”

“Mum!” Rose groaned. “It’s not a book club, it’s a fantasy game, played by a bunch of comic-book and fantasy-novel loving teenage nerds. That starts at one o’clock in the afternoon. Just how rowdy do you think it could get?”

“Hmm. There are plenty of sandwiches and crisps, and money for pizza if you want it. No alcohol this time, given Dustin and his friends are a bit too young for that. I also left lots of chocolate and sweets in the basket by the door. Try to save some for the trick-or-treaters, won’t you dear? Claudia said there will be lots of them, so I may have gone a bit overboard.”

Rose’s mum Shirley had befriended Claudia Henderson in the grocery store, last week, her first new friend in Hawkins, bonding over raising children with various health issues as single mothers. Claudia had filled her in on the town, the goings on at school, and just how good and sensible Dustin and his friends were. That worked wonders when Rose asked if Mum and Jerry could vacate the house for Halloween for a Hellfire gathering. When she learned that Dustin could perform CPR and had a first aid certificate from his science camp, the deal was sealed, the house freed up for a full day for Rose and her friends.

“We won’t trash the place, promise,” Rose waved and plastered a smile on her face, stifling a laugh as Mum and Jerry pulled out of the driveway and off to Cartersville. It was eleven o’clock, and by Rose’s reckoning she had twelve hours before they were back. Two full hours before the guys were due to arrive. 

She’d been waiting for this moment for a full week, enduring school, planning the night in her head, hoping desperately that Eddie would actually arrive, worrying that he might disappear at the last minute. 

Facing down her anxiety she put on her walkman, danced up and down the house to Michael Jackson and made the place fit for the Cult of Vecna. The cheap plastic cobweb packs from Melvald’s General Store were broken open, and she wove the fake stuff around the light fittings, stair bannisters, and on the mirrors and paintings on the walls. Every candle they’d ever owned was brought out, the more melted and twisted looking the better, littering every surface, wax dribbled onto surfaces she knew she would wipe clean.

The hallway with its impressive fireplace and sweeping stairs were decorative enough, but the dining room was the focus of her energy, the location of the campaign. Usually, the table felt ridiculous for the three of them, but now she loved that it could easily sit ten. A crimson-red tablecloth was draped over the top, candelabra in the centre, and so much fake cobweb around the room that you’d think Shelob was nesting in the corners above the ornate panelled bookcases. In comparison the kitchen table groaned with snacks, enough to sate the bellies of a dozen teenage adventurers on a quest to vanquish a dark necromancer. 

The bloody terrifying mannequins that were in the cellar when they bought the place were placed strategically in windows to look like shadowy figures, draped in old hats and coats to give them a spooky, realistic outline. When she stepped outside into the yard by midday and looked over at her handiwork, she was delighted. It truly looked like a horror house. 

The contents of her wardrobe played on her mind, and even a brisk, chilly shower couldn’t calm her down. She tiptoed around in a towel and emptied the outfit from its bag onto her bed, the leather gleaming and catching her eye. 

The thrift store had yielded a fruitful haul. Next to the medieval-looking peasant blouse, lay a leather corset in deepest brown, a racy thing meant for a Rocky Horror Picture Show revival, with a scandalously low bustline, proper steel boning and eyehooks, and black silk ribbons laced up at the back. When paired with the leather wrist cuffs that went halfway to elbow, she reckoned it might just pass for leather armour. Yes, it was a bit too sexy for a real pair of bracers and a cuirass, but it fit the D&D vibe, at least in her eyes. Plus, wearing the peasant shirt beneath it would cover the sheer abundance of cleavage that she’d been embarrassed to see when she tried the thing on.

With the outfit laced up until she could just about breathe, knee high leather boots and a mid-length skirt, and her hair loosely braided with one or two curls escaping at the front, she truly felt like Lady Ceverra, the neutral-chaotic Cleric and fledgling necromancer.

It might only have been early afternoon, but Rose was busy setting a fire in the dining room hearth, until the soothing crackle of burning logs and the thick scent of woodsmoke filled the air. She was running around with a lit taper when the doorbell rang, and she took a deep breath, adjusting her hair and answering the door with a lit candle in one hand, and faint wisps of smoke around her.

“Who knocks at my castle door during this hour?” She said loudly, in a theatrical voice. “A pack of adventurers, I see. Come in, there is meat and mead at my table.”

All the guys were crowding around and she could see Eddie’s van parked on the drive, her heart racing instantly. But he must have been behind someone else, or getting out the vehicle.

Dustin’s open-mouthed grin was contagious. “Wow. You look freaking awesome. Wait, do you really have mead?”

“No, dummy. There’s Dr Pepper, root beer, or Mountain Dew.”

“Oh, nice,” he replied, holding up a big carved pumpkin. “We brought pumpkins, as requested. Your mom mentioned to my mom that she didn’t have any, so we all brought one. This place is freaking wild, man. It’s going to look amazing with so many pumpkins on the porch.”

“Thank you, gentlemen. Don’t forget to introduce yourselves on the way in,” Rose said, stepping to one side. 

Dustin came in first, with a rugged cloak, leather satchel instead of a backpack, and pan-pipes, slung around his shoulder. “Nog at your service,” he bowed. “Half dwarf bard, whose enchanted pipes play a tune as sweet as honeyed-wine.”

“Welcome, good bard.” Rose dipped into a curtsey.

Mike’s paladin knight came next, with a sword and shield that looked really convincing, but turned out to be plastic. “Lady Ceverra, this house kicks ass. I always wanted to come inside when it was a wreck, but now it looks like something from the movies.”

“Thank you, good sir.”

“Yeah,” Lucas added behind him. “Better than the prop room by a long shot.”

He drew back the string of a wooden bow, pretending to aim, though the quiver of arrows was still on his back. His outfit was the best yet, like something from a Renaissance fair, quartered red and green, with a shirt, jacket and a cap that looked almost real. When paired with the bow, the leather band around his forehead and the slingshot tucked into his pocket, he looked like he meant business.

“Nice pun, Sir ranger.”

“Sundar the Bold,” he replied. “Yeah, it’s supposed to be Robin Hood. Mom got it for me a couple of years back, but we went as Ghostbusters instead that year."

Chris was next, with something that looked like a sheepskin rug fastened around his shoulders and a sledge hammer at his side. “Thordus Boulderbash, whose hammer could cleave the very mountains in two.”

“Impressive,” Rose gave her verdict. “Like Gimli come to life.”

Chris blushed a little; he’d always had trouble talking to her one on one, his wariness of girls in general making it hard to speak to her without the context of a group conversation or something to focus on like the game of D&D itself. But she was pleased to note he went inside with a smile on his face, and not a nervous one.

The rest of the older guys had lingered at the back, and it took all of Rose’s energy to focus on Gareth as he came through the door, and not look back to seek out Eddie’s mop of hair in the background. 

“Sup,” Gareth said casually, leaning against the doorframe in a hooded cloak. “Illian the Unvanquished", half-elf Paladin and Champion of the Lost Lands. But then you already knew that. Can I go and see the murder house now?”

“Don’t mind him,” Jeff clapped his buddy on the shoulder, stepping inside with a tall gnarled branch like a wizard’s staff, with a plastic-looking gem embedded in the top. “He’s not properly house trained.”

“The place is cool thanks for having us,” Gareth mumbled, shrugging Jeff off. “Just remember, we’re not children here for Halloween, this is a serious endeavour. Let’s get set up.”

Jeff shook his head. “My spellcaster Zaegor is gonna have to kick Ilian’s ass tonight. I think he’s just hungry. Maybe he’ll be better after some Halloween candy.”

“We have lots of that,” Rose reassured. “And enough food to feed the whole of Hawkins. Go ahead, the kitchen is straight past the fireplace and staircase, the second door on the right, after the dining room.”

Then she turned to the open door again, and was left face to face with a figure that may as well have been summoned from a romance or gothic horror story. 

Eddie wore a flouncy, loose white shirt fathered at the wrist, and left unlaced at the top, showing off acres of his beautiful, muscular neck, and the beginnings of the tattoos at the top of his chest. On top of the shirt he wore a leather duster jacket, the kind that was almost floor-length. His Reeboks were replaced with leather boots, and his black jeans today didn’t have holes. He carried an old acoustic guitar, one that definitely wasn’t his precious Warlock. The whole ensemble was deceptively simple, but stunning in its effect on Rose.

“Milady,” he took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. His soft, full lips, surprisingly warm...lips she could imagine in many, many other places, until her heartbeat morphed into an awful, beautiful kind of throbbing that settled low in her body, in places it really shouldn’t settle with a bunch of freshmen roaming the house. 

“You’re here,” she said stupidly. “I mean, you made the decision to come inside. I hope you won’t regret breaking the promise.”

His eyes clouded over and he stood up, but still kept her hand in his. “Yeah, well Eddie Munson may not be able to enter, but Eddie the Bard is bound to no such promise.”

“A loophole. How ingenious of you.”

They stood there grinning and holding hands, until Rose realised the source of all the drama and dropped it like a stone; by being here, was he upsetting Chrissy, or whoever else he’d made this promise to? Despite feeling thrilled by his presence in her house, she felt bad for a mysterious person who might be hurt because of it.

Eddie swallowed hard, eyes flicking all over the place. “You look, uh...”

“Ridiculous?”

“Like you just stepped out of a fantasy novel. You should be on horseback, wielding a sword, or something.”

Her skin flushed, and she fidgeted with her hands. “I...I was just thinking the same of you. Very Anne Rice.”

He leaned against the doorframe languidly. “Oh, like a vampire? Does that mean I have to ask permission to enter the mansion?”

“Come in,” Rose said immediately. “It’s not as glamorous as you make it sound. On the left is the parlour and the living room, on the right the kitchen and dining room and pantry. The bathroom is down the hall. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous that it has a parlour. It’s not like I sit around all day drinking tea and...okay, yes I do sit around all day drinking tea, but mostly in my room.”

He explored the place with wide eyes and gangly legs, almost knocking over a row of lit candles, and Rose trailed after him, reminding herself where the fire extinguisher was just in case.

They walked through the kitchen where the boys were congregating around the snack table, and Eddie gasped upon seeing the open archway to the dining room.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie chanted in a sing-song voice. “This is fucking perfect. Creepy, fancy, but also kind of derelict, like the place could fall apart at any given moment. Yep, I feel the ambience, Rosie, I feel it. This is going to be a good night.”

She frowned. “It’s one o’clock.”

He made a beeline for the head of the table, and the chair she’d set up as his throne. On top of the crimson tablecloth, behind the candelabra, lay his goblet.

Eddie gasped. “What the hell! I thought this was locked away tighter than Principal Higgin’s integrity. How is it here?”

“I know someone who knows someone,” Rose said with a smug smile. “Quite literally. Robin is old friends with Beth in drama club, she retrieved the goblet on Wednesday. Give Robin a secret mission and she is all over it. Obsessed. She even gave it a code name.”

Eddie was amused. “What was the code name?”

“Project Elixir.”

“Oooh, I like it. Are you sure she doesn’t want to join Hellfire?”

Rose snorted with laughter, and covered her mouth in embarrassment. “She’s not really one for fantasy.”

“Oh my god, I just spotted a skull. A skull!” Eddie was like a kid at Christmas, examining the gruesome prop on the side table, with its jaw wide open, sat on top of the bowl of candies. 

“Oh, that little old thing?” Rose tried to look cool by leaning back on the walnut panelling, and almost fell over, grasping to hold herself upright. “That’s Yorick. I stole him from a hospital when I was fourteen, on a dare.”

“That’s so fucking metal.”

He turned back to the table and shucked off his leather coat, draping it over the creepy mannequin in the corner. He leaned back in the chair with the nonchalance of an aristocrat, holding the goblet aloft and hooking one leg casually over the chair’s arm. 

“I’m feeling it. I am so feeling it. Fetch the minions,” he told Rose with swagger. “The Cult of Vecna calls for their leader to return, and we heroes must answer with blood and steel.”

---

Six hours. For six long and intense hours they huddled around the grand dining table with their character sheets, cans of Dr Pepper, flickering candles, and battled against the forces of evil. 

Eddie owned the room, he owned the whole house. He monologued like a Shakespearean actor, pacing the room, voice booming during the dramatic moments, whispering during the tense ones, until Gareth literally fell from a chair trying to lean in close to hear him.

“In the dank depths of the cavern, all you can hear is the heavy breathing of those around you. But in the dim, flickering torchlight, which of the hooded cultists are your fellow adventurers in disguise, and which are the true foes? That’s the mystery, there is no way to tell but the sound of their voices and the instinct in your gut.”

Eddie held a candle up to his face, the light casting shadows on his cheekbones and nose. “The acolytes carry the sack into the centre of the cavern, toward the stone altar. It wriggles, it writhes, it moans...and when they dump the contents onto the altar you see it at last...the telltale silver hair of Princess Volara, heir to the throne.”

“Oh shit,” Gareth rocked back and forth. “My betrothed has been captured by the Archmage himself. I won’t let you die, Volara. Not after Vecna slowly bled your soul of it strength.”

Lucas pulled out his slingshot and grabbed the D20, like the little weapon would give him luck. “My turn, guys. I take a stone from the cavern floor and load it into my slingshot-”

“Dude,” Mike interrupted. “You can’t attack, they’ll cut her throat before so much as take off your cloak!”

Lucas grimaced. “Trust me. I take my slingshot and fire the stone toward the sconce on the wall opposite. It knocks the wooden torch, just a little bit, making everyone turn toward the source of light.”

He rolled the D20, and they watched with bated breath, until it rolled onto sixteen.

Eddie pressed the tips of his fingers together, like a movie villain. “I see where you’re going with this. Crit hit, Sinclair. The cultists turn toward the source of light, and for the briefest of seconds, you see their eyes reflecting the firelight. Several of them are brown, several blue, but one is purple.”

“That’s me!” Jeff squealed. “All the potions turned my eyes purple, and-”

The ding-ding of the doorbell stopped them, and a collective groan rose around the table.

“Goddamn it,” Lucas shook his head. “Dustin, can you get the door?”

Dustin's face pulled into an expression of distaste. “Me?! I gave out candy only two times ago, it’s not my turn!”

“But what if it’s the pizza this time?”

Rose shuffled back in her chair, ready to go to the door, but Eddie stopped her, his hand brushing against her sleeve, making her breath catch.

Eddie seemed to pause too, his fingers stilling on her wrist. “Not your turn either. Just cause you’re the only girl, doesn’t mean it’s your job.” He grabbed his new favourite prop, Yorick the skull and played around, moving its lower jaw to mimic speech like a ventriloquist with a dummy. “Thordus, tis your turn to appease the cultists outside. Give them their pound of flesh - and by flesh I mean chocolate - and send them on their way. Go, good fellow! Before they tear down the defences!”

Chris groaned and picked up his sledgehammer, talking directly to the skull instead of Eddie. “Fine, but if I can scare them away, do I get to have the chocolate?”

“No!” Yorick’s jaw - and puppet master - said.

“Take some chocolate,” Rose called out, overruling the Dungeon Master. “Just don’t use the hammer anywhere near the children. We don’t need another murder to take place in this house, one was enough.”

“Where were we,” Eddie continued. “Ah, yes. Lucas, your character Sundar makes out Jeff’s wizard and Rose’s cleric in the crowd, hidden behind their own cultists masks and ready to save the Princess. They both stand to your left, by the cavern entrance. On your next turn, you can attack the Archmage and interrupt the ritual before it summons Vecna himself.”

Lucas passed the D20 over to Rose, who held out her shaky hand and clasped it, trying to determine a course of action.

“I can’t summon the dead body in the corner as a thrall, can I?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie said gently. “You’re still level eight. Might be level ten by the next session, at which point you unlock Animate Dead and kick some cultist ass.”

She slumped in her chair, aching at the tight lacing of the corset. “God, I can’t wait.”

A series of childish screams sounded outside, followed by Chris’ laugh. He came running back in with his sledgehammer and a pile of chocolate and candy, hoarding it like Smaug with gold in his corner of the table. 

Jeff began to get antsy, fidgeting in his chair, checking his watch. “It’s seven o’clock, man. Where is this pizza?”

“It’s Saturday and Halloween,” Dustin rationalised, chugging back his Dr Pepper and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They’re busy.”

“Wait,” Eddie stood up suddenly, drawing their attention. “You shiver and clutch the robes tighter around your shoulders, taken by a sudden chill in the air. It’s not just cold in the cavern, it’s icy, your breath fogging in front of you like an ice dragon.”

Jeff took in a sudden breath. “You know what that means...he’s here.”

Mike scrunched up his face. “Who?”

Jeff leaned in. “Vecna.”

The dining room felt chilly in reality, and Rose shivered as if someone walked over her grave, ignoring the fact that shuddering her chest probably did little to hide the effect of her tight corset and the poorly-concealed cleavage.

The faint buzz of electric lights dimming rose above the crackling flames of the fireplace, and the ceiling lights and lamps in the hallway upstairs flickered, the power outage travelling downstairs and affecting the bulbs one by one, like they occasionally did. But this time, with the whole party of eight fixed on the malfunctioning lights, it got quiet and tense very quickly.

“Uh...guys?” Lucas asked, his face a mask of horror. “You saw that too, right?”

“It’s only been three months, I can’t do this again,” Mike added, running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t worry,” Rose added quickly, trying to diffuse the weird tension amongst the younger boys. “I know it looks weird but it’s just an old house, the wiring is dodgy. It’s happened before, but the power hasn’t blown out or anything.”

The path of malfunctioning lamps drew toward them, until the kitchen light just a couple of metres away flickered into life, and then faded away slowly.

“That light wasn’t even on,” Dustin said, his face ghostly pale. “Guys, I think we have a code red. I repeat, code red.”

Eddie looked puzzled, waving a hand toward Dustin, the cuff of his shirt sleeve flapping about. “What’s a code red, Henderson?”

A second ding-dong interrupted them again, and Rose unfurled her aching legs and stood up with a groan. “My turn. I’ll get some money in case it’s pizza. If anyone dares to move my character, I will kill them. That includes you Gareth. Actually, that mostly refers to you.”

“Jeez,” Gareth scowled from beneath his hood. “What happened to innocent until found guilty?”

Rose wandered into the kitchen, where the sandwich crusts, empty crisp packets and wrappers littered over the kitchen table were the only remains of the feast, demolished by a hungry horde by three o’clock. She retrieved the small wad of cash from the tin of tea leaves and opened the front door.

“How much is it?” She asked, looking down at her hands and trying to remove a folded twenty dollar bill. 

A wave of noise hit her, voices clamouring and cheering, and Rose dropped the money on the porch floor.

Steve Harrington tipped the cowboy hat from the thrift store at her, one spurred boot propped up on a giant, silver keg of beer. His jeans and tasselled waistcoat rounded out a fairly decent cowboy outfit. 

“Howdy there,” he said. “Did someone call for a keg party?”

“Surprise!” Robin leapt out from the crowd of people - wait, who were all the people? - in a full-on French mime costume, complete with beret, stripey shirt, braces and white face paint. “If Rose cannot come to the keg party, the key party shall come to her! I see you kept your outfit on, damn, you could cause a traffic accident with those on display!”

Rose crossed her arms defensively as teens in all kinds of Halloween costumes pushed past them, flooding the hall before she even had a chance to stop. Jeremy - the party dude, with the coke habit, entered the hall and looked around at the decorated house, with an exclamation of: “Sweet, nice haunted house, man.”

“What the hell?” Rose said. “How did this happen?”

Some of Robin’s bandmates were next, and a girl with red hair she’d recognised from school. They carried in cases of beer, bottles of spirits, and - as if it was plucked from a movie - a boombox playing something electronic and very not suited to the whole D&D vibe.

“You were so sad last weekend,” Steve explained. “We wanted to make your keg party dream come true. I know people, all it took was a couple of calls. Not sure how, but the rest of the school sniffed the party out like ”

Robin spread her arms open. “Ta da!”

Panic began to flood Rose, particularly how one very particular DM might react to the chaos. “But we’re still in the middle of Dungeons and Dragons!”

Robin pulled a face. “Huh? You said it started at one.”

“Exactly. We’re not even half way through!”

Robin’s face fell, but Steve looked calm and collected, stepping aside to let in a string of witches - cheerleaders from school, Rose thought - his eyes fixed on them as they walked by. “So we have a little party on the margins. Best of both worlds, right? Come on, don’t say your parents won’t like it. Your mom literally plied me with alcohol last time I was here, no questions asked. She’s cool.”

“Plus,” Robin pointed for emphasis. “We’ll be on clean up duty, and help you get the place tidy before they come home.”

“In four hours?” Rose cried out.

“No, sixteen hours, dummy. Eleven AM.”

“No, Rob. Four hours. They’re not staying overnight.”

“Oooh,” Robin let out a whistling breath. “Steve, have we fucked up? Can we stop it now?”

The keg had already been carried in, music blared, and a loud smash inside caused them all to wince. 

“I don’t think so,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Maybe we let it burn out for a couple of hours, until the alcohol’s gone. You know, like a forest fire.”

“Is that a good analogy, Steve?” Robin asked sarcastically. “Aren’t forest fires destructive?”

He held up his hands, kind of dopey. “What? I saw a PBS documentary on forest management last week, they’re supposed to, like, regenerate the forest by providing nutrients and encouraging new growth.”

“Fire...” Rose murmured. “There are a hundred lit candles in there. Quick, we have to put them out before the whole place goes up in flames!”

“Come on dingus,” Robin shook her head. “The least we can do is avert a disaster. You take the left side, i’ll take the right.”

Rose left them to put out candles and ran inside, her heart sinking. A picture frame had been knocked over, wooden frame splintered, but thankfully the glass was still intact. “Off!” She shouted to a ghost in a low-effort bedsheet with holes in it. “Break anything, and you pay for it. Damn it all to hell, I haven’t even checked with the Hellfire, they might be disappointed. I don’t know if they like this kind of thing, they might be too shy-”

As she wandered through the house and into the dining room, the Hellfire guys and the party people seemed to meet, absorbed into one big crowd. Lucas hi-fived another member of the basketball team.

Dustin was clutching his own face and giggling. “A kegger?” He squealed. “I didn’t think I'd be invited to one of those until Junior year. I’m three full years ahead of schedule...at this rate, I'll be prom king. Look out, class of ‘90!”

“I’ve heard of those kinds of parties, but I dared not hope...” Chris said. “Please say this isn’t a dream.”

Gareth was leaning back on his chair, his hooded cloak falling off his head, almost drooling at the outfits of the witch-cheerleaders. The game pieces in front of him and all the other guys had been completely forgotten. 

“Oh,” Rose said to herself. “Perhaps they don’t mind after all.”

The collective joy around the Hellfire table was contagious, the room filled with people and red cups of foamy beer, the electro-beat of Dead Man’s Party ringing out on the boombox...it wasn’t so bad. Like a John Hughes movie had leapt out from the screen and took place live in her home. 

Rose began to relax just a fraction. Until she saw the uncertainty on Eddie’s face. No, it wasn’t uncertainty, he looked downright pissed. She bumped her way through the crowd, elbowing through a pair of ghosts and a Princess Leia with fake buns on a headband, and tried to get to his side.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” she called over one of the revellers in a monster costume. “I didn’t know this was happening.”

He swept up the figurines and board pieces, snatching one from the curious green-painted hand of the monster dude, and packed them back in the box with an agitated, twitching face. 

“S’cool,” he lied. “No worries, maaan. We’ll have a big party instead of the Cult of Vecna. Pick it up next week, I guess. That is, if we haven’t lost the guys to the popular social clique.”

Rose worked her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling terrible about the interruption, kind of angry at Robin and Steve, yet oddly touched they tried to put this together just for her.

She approached him gingerly, putting a hand on his arm, looking deeply into his big, doe-eyes. “Eddie, don't be ridiculous. They love Hellfire, there’s no way they’ll abandon it for a moment with the popular kids. You’re like their hero.”

At that very moment Dustin ran forward, stopping in his tracks, looking at the doorway to the hall, dumbfounded. “Steve? What the hell, are you behind this kegger?”

Steve opened his arms wide. “Henderson, you little menace. Come here!”

The two of them ran toward each other almost in slow-motion, colliding in a dramatic and meaningful hug, which they tried to make more masculine with a lot of back-slapping and clearing of throats.

Dustin looked up at him, like he hung the moon. “Crashing a Halloween party at a haunted house with a keg? Classic King Steve. Graduation can’t even contain your reputation at school, can it?”

“Oh no,” Rose muttered under her breath, watching Dustin and Steve greet each other like the oldest of friends. Shit. From the corner of her eye, she saw Eddie was wounded. Sure, he covered it by turning to grab his guitar from the eager-fingered green monster and pointedly ignoring Dustin. But she could see right through it. Jealousy. But it felt like there was more beneath the surface. 

Eddie surveyed the crowd, and winced at a particularly shrill beat from the boombox. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm again. “Stay. Have a drink. I don’t want you to go.”

He looked down at her hand, wavering. “I guess I could have one.”

Rose sighed with relief. “Stay right here, I'll get us beer. If I'm going to be a reluctant party host, I might as well benefit from it by getting buzzed.”

The moment the crowd parted them, she lost sight of his long leather jacket and white frilly shirt, swallowed by dancing monsters and witches, moving to the beat. The kitchen was chaotic, all the Halloween candy eaten, and the pizza they ordered an hour ago had mysteriously arrived, been paid for, and completely devoured, leaving nothing but the greasy boxes.

“Robin!” She cried. “Where the hell is the beer?”

“In the parlour!” Her friend’s voice echoed back, a blur of face paint and a beret just visible in the hall. 

By the time she filled two cups with foamy beer, avoided the groping hands of a Thriller-style zombie whose face was almost planted in her cleavage, and got back to the dining room, Eddie was nowhere to be found. 

Okay, it wasn’t quite what she’d hoped for, but it was a party. A lively one, on Halloween, surrounded by teens who were high on hops and hormones, and...now that she came to think of it, what if they trashed upstairs? Used the bedrooms like a brothel, queueing up to fondle each other her mother’s quilted bedspread? It was enough to make her panic, until she saw a figure in a fur cloak, with his sledgehammer held high.

“Chris,” she waved at him, gaining his attention. “If you guard the stairs, i’ll owe you.”

“What?”

“I’ll owe you!”

His face was a picture of surprise. “You’ll blow me?”

“What the fuck, no!” She screamed, attracting attention, as When Doves Cry blasted across the room. “I will be in your debt. Owe you a favour. Anything except that!”

He nodded, finally getting it. “What do you want?”

“Guard the stairs, no one except me or Robin and Steve are allowed up. Okay?”

“A side quest,” he exclaimed. “No one will breach the stairs, milady. They can send an army, but I will guard it with my life!”

She sagged, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t let anyone through, though slightly worried that sledgehammer would be put to use at some point, even by accident. 

“All the candles are out,” Robin sidled up to her. “I hid your mom’s ornaments in the pantry, and Dustin is literally about to combust from excitement. Time to actually enjoy the party, you know, dancing, music, a little joie de vivre...sound familiar?”

“What, we’re not supposed to scowl at the edges like old spinsters?” Rose said with mock confusion.

“Dance with me!” Robin commanded.

“I’m too clumsy!”

“Me too. If we do it together, maybe we’ll cancel each other out. Two left feet make a right, or whatever the saying is.”

She allowed herself to be dragged on the dance floor, and when Duran Duran came on the stereo, she couldn’t stop herself, laughing breathlessly as Steve did a little cowboy dance and completely failed to charm Bianca, the current object of his affections.

They were clumsy, they were awful, but Halloween costumes were forgiving, weren’t they? Freedom to be more than who you were, and try out a different side of yourself. The party burned on for longer than she realised, until the grandfather clock in the hallway struck eleven, the sonorous ring of it snapping her out of it.

Shit. Mum and Jerry would be home any minute, and the party was in full throes, nowhere near burning out like a forest fire, or whatever other hamfisted metaphor Steve had used earlier.

Her face was burning, lungs struggling for air, and the place was too crowded. Rose bolted for the front door, pushing past a couple shoving their tongues down each others throats and emerging onto the porch, where more kids hung out with cups of foamy beer. The hoppy smell made her feel queasy, feet stumbling until she was out on the driveway.

“Nice party, new girl,” someone shouted. She gave them a thumbs up, no clue who was beneath the costume, and kept going until she saw Eddie’s van. It was at the front of the drive, trapped by a layer of parked cars of those who arrived later, drawn by the buzz in the air and the gossip whipping around the town at lightspeed, of a party at the murder house.

She put her hands to the widow and peered through the glass: empty. But then a chord drifted on the night air, with the scent of pumpkin flesh and pine. Black Sabbath, the chorus of Lady Evil. Eddie sat on the swings over the street, the foggy evening lit by buzzing street lamps, illuminating the frizzy hair like a halo.

Rose ws drawn by the song, leaving behind the party and stepping willingly into the playground, watching his ringed fingers strum the acoustic guitar and produce a sound so natural and beautiful she held her breath. He was concentrating so hard his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth, and her heart did a little leap. The perils of having a heart condition and helplessly falling for someone...each time her heart raced, she felt weird, and worried herself needlessly. But she found it was a good weird.

“Ah,” Eddie said, sitting up as her shadow fell over him. “Here she is, the Queen of the Night herself. Mistress of the keg party. Lady reveller, entertaining the masses in her tavern.”

She snorted, and dropped onto the best swing, cold chains biting her fingers. “I’m hardly a party mistress. Haven’t even had a drink.”

He kept strumming the guitar, playing through the rest of the song, but smiling wide. “No way.”

“Yes way. Not even a drop of beer.”

His teasing side-eye was enough to warm her right up. “You running for sainthood or something?”

She pondered it for a while. “Sister Rose does have a good ring to it. What, why are you laughing?!”

“You’d be a terrible nun, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and throaty. “You’ve been converted to metal music, satan worship, and liquor. Yeah...you’re too good at sinning.”

His teeth shone pearly white and the loose ruffled shirt was still half-open, exposing the neck that would tempt Dracula himself. And when he saw her looking, his wicked grin only widened. Well bloody hell, he must be out to kill her. Do her in, set her on metaphorical fire, or at least banish all the nice, innocent thoughts she’d been thinking about how they could be friends. But there was a Chrissy-shaped elephant in this room, even though they were outside, one they were no closer to overcoming.

“My last hangover was one to remember. It might be a while before I can stomach alcohol without wanting to be sick.”

Eddie laughed and put down the guitar gently. “Just avoid the instrument, sweetheart. My uncle Wayne won’t forgive me if it comes home covered in vomit. It’s his baby, carried it all the way from Tennessee.”

“Your Uncle Wayne sounds great,” she ventured. He hardly ever talked about his family, only when they were alone. He didn’t have a mother and father and a picket fence, like most of his friends. Less stability, and more shame. “Did he teach you to play?”

His smile was bittersweet, eyes glazed over and lost in memories. “My old man taught me first. Uncle Wayne kept it up later, when he wasn’t around. Real country stuff. But the love of music? That came from my mom. We didn’t have much, but no matter how little money you have, you can’t take away music. I’d be strumming and banging on anything in sight, dancing along to her records. Hendrix and Fitzgerald and all sorts of blues.”

Rose swung back and forth gently, boots trailing on the grass. “How did she...”

“Cancer.”

“Shit.”

“She was thirty-three.”

“Oh god. That’s fucking awful Eddie, I didn’t know. How old were you?”

He twisted his swing’s chains to the side, so he was facing her. “Ten. She’s buried at the cemetery off Cornwallis. I go there sometimes. Never on the day she died, there is not a little bit of me that wants to remember that day. But I go there every now and then, and always on her birthday. I, uh, know it sounds stupid, but I bring the guitar and play some Hendrix sometimes.”

“Not stupid,” she said, swinging higher and higher, feeling the rush of being at the top of the world, and the drop in your stomach when you fall back to earth again. “You’re talented as fuck. Must have been that goblet of rock that’s inside. I’d better not let anyone drink from it, or you’ll be dethroned as Hawkins’ rock god.”

“Sweetheart, do not inflate my ego. I can hardly fit in the van as it is. If my head gets bigger, will I grow more hair, or will it go ratty and balding, spread like butter over too much toast?”

Rose laughed until she couldn’t breathe, and stuck out her heels, feet jarring in the grass as she made the swing come to a stop. “You’re trying to kill me, Munson. Oh god, my ribs. It hurts.”

Eddie half-rose from the swing seat, face etched with concern. “Are you...sick? Do we need a doctor?”

“It’s this corset,” she grimaced, twisting her hands to her back and trying to pull on the laces. “Flipping torture devices made by sadists, that’s what they are. I couldn’t cope with the Victorian era. No wonder the ladies fainted all the time and needed smelling salts.”

“Oh, right,” he crossed his arms, shoving his hands into his armpits, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “So you didn’t...uh, you didn’t just have that little torture device hanging around then? Not your weekend outfit?”

“Bloody hell, no,” Rose continued to struggle, going pink in the face. “I think I need help, I can’t reach the back. Could you undo the knot for me?”

Eddie stepped back. “You sure?”

Rose went light headed, and she stepped around until her back faced him, drawing her loose braid over the front of her shoulder. “I’m not asking you to strip me naked, Eddie. Just loosen it up a little. Besides, you can see I have a shirt on underneath this thing.”

“Oh. Loose...laces...knots. I happen to be amazing with my fingers, lots of practice. Oh Jesus H Christ, I meant with guitar strings not...though come to think of it...god, shut up. Shut up, Eddie.”

“Guitars,” she said dumbly. “I get it.”

His breath fanned the back of her neck and she could feel the warmth of him at her back. Don’t think of his fingers...don’t think of his fingers...

In a few moments he’d picked open the knot, and a single touch of his calloused finger to the exposed skin between her shoulder blades had a shiver rippling up her spine.

“Sorry,” he laughed nervously. “Kinda cold out here. So what do I do now?”

“Just tug on the top thread until it moves an inch or two, then the next one, and keep going. It should loosen up quite easily.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Gotcha.”

The top of the corset began to loosen and the pressure in her ribs and lungs slowly eased, and it was glorious, remembering how to breathe again, the blood flowing back to her skin and tingling all at once.

She groaned, loudly, just as Eddie’s fingers worked their way down; he jolted and tugged the lace too hard, and somehow within a single fluid move the lace unravelled and the whole thing dropped to the floor.

“Oh...ooh no, n-no.” Eddie stammered.

With agonising awareness, Rose felt her nipples hardening as the cool night air rushed beneath the loose, half-open peasant shirt. And in an instinctive, foolish move, she turned around to see what had happened, until he was inches away from her. 

The sensation of boobs - and not small ones, not by any stretch - being freed after a long period of containment was a very personal, very private thing, and one she had not experienced in front of a man, let alone one she fancied the pants off of. Within a split second she’d covered them with her hands, with the flimsy shield of the peasant shirt. Unfortunately, she’d left the garment open to better fit beneath her corset, and it was a flimsy layer of clothing by itself, made translucent by the buzzing street lamp over their heads.

“I seem to be in a state of undress,” Rose said politely. “Oh lovely, I’ve fully embraced life as a Victorian lady, haven’t I. Someone will see my ankles in a minute, and denounce me as the town hussy. Oh fuck.”

Eddie's eyes were pools of coal-black, completely unreadable, somehow everywhere over her body all at once, until he jerked back like he’d been burned. 

“Do you...” his voice was low and even, like he was putting great effort into controlling it. “Do you want me to lace it back on?”

“No! It would take too long, I'm one gust of wind away from being topless here.”

“Here,” he flung off his leather duster coat, like it had fleas. “Take it.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“I run hot, like a furnace usually. Warm all the time. Never need a blanket, not even in winter.” he babbled. 

Rose tugged the sleeves of the leather jacket on, and held the edges together at the front. Now that image was too much...Eddie naked, Eddie sleeping with no clothes, and no blanket. But now, he was in his own flowing white shirt.

“I like your shirt,” she said, humour coming back into her voice now she had some semblance of modesty. “We kind of match.”

Eddie looked down at himself and pretended to be shocked, playing the jester, jumping back. “Oh my gosh, how did that get there? Wait...if I put on your corset, i’d look very Rocky Horror, wouldn’t I. Shall I do it?”

She couldn't help but giggle. “Ah, but they would think we’ve been out here...you know...doing stuff.”

His eyebrows waggled and he paced around, giving her a very mischievous look. “Ah, stuff. I thought you were a virtuous woman, Sister Rose?”

“What, a nun can’t cross dress with her dungeon master? Whatever has the world come to?”

He strutted around like a peacock, like something from a romance novel, chest half-exposed, long hair curling around his shoulders. Rose noticed a silver necklace of some kind hung at his chest, a crucifix maybe? Yes, yes she would be re-reading Anne Rice tonight, she was sure of it.

“Stuff,” he repeated. “Naughty things. Things someone inside might not like. I get it. Maybe we should head back in, before the parentals come home and see the lady of the house dishevelled in the street, like a common whore.”

“Oh,” she raised her brows. “I’ve been upgraded to whore, have I?

“Promoted, sweetheart. I guess you have a thriving career ahead of you.”

“A nun and a whore. What will the priest say?”

Eddie winked. “It’s kinky, he’ll love it..”

Whilst some of the partygoers had begun to drift off, bound by curfews and the threat of permanent grounding, most of them remained. Dustin, Lucas and Mike were hanging out in the dining room window, and Robin and half their classmates would be inside.

“Do I have to go in?” She asked, looking back at the swings with longing.

“Eventually, yes.”

She looked up to the windows of the house, and a grin spread over her face. “Who said I have to go through the front door? Eddie, are you good at climbing trees?”

He looked to her, to the house, to her, back to the house, cogs whirring in his brain. “Oh my god.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“No.”

“It makes sense. My window isn’t locked.”

“Do you have a death wish, sweetheart? Are you high? Except I know you’re not, cause I control the supply at school.”

“I’m high on life!”

He laughed and shook his head. “Goddamn it, you are going to be the death of me.”

Rose couldn’t stop giggling, until she sounded like a bit of an idiot. “Already died once, haven’t I? I must have eight remaining. You have nine left, like a cat.”

Eddie was contemplative. She thought she’d lost him for a minute there, as he turned his back to her. But a second later he came back, holding the leather, ribbed corset in his hands and shoving it in the waistband of his jeans. “You’ll need this, to protect your innocent reputation. Come on, Sister Rose, let’s break you back into the convent.”

“Oh, this is exciting,” she clapped her hands. “I’m living out every high school fantasy in one night.”

“It’s a good job your house has a nice veranda, and a great big tree right next to it. Come to think of it, you should get better security. That’s a thief’s wet dream.”

She giggled even more, stopping to breathe hard and clutch at his sleeve, completely ruining their stealthy approach. After a long pause they made it to the cedar tree at the side of the house, and Eddie climbed ahead of her, working out footholds and helping her take each step up. 

“Look,” she hissed. “They don’t even see us!”

The couple on the porch seat were sucking each other's faces off, too busy to notice the people climbing a tree only twenty feet away.

“Of course they don’t, they’re about to get to third base.”

“Yeah...I don’t understand baseball. No idea what that means.”

Eddie reached a horizontal branch and slithered onto it, testing its weight, and finding it sturdy. He hauled Rose up, until she straddled the branch and hugged the main trunk, watching how he dropped easily from the tree to the veranda below her mother’s bedroom.

“Come on,” he beckoned, hands outstretched. “I’ve got you.”

She dropped onto him with a thud, with a mental reminder to thank the contractor who’d repaired the roof last month, for doing such a sturdy job. There were some limbs pressed together, some awkward scrambling upright, until they stood holding each other's forearms, balancing together.

“So,” he said casually. “Which room’s yours?”

Rose looked up, gesturing with her chin to the big, round stained-glass window. “Up there.”

He threw his head back, exposing the column of his throat. “The attic? You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Hold me.”

Eddie blinked a few times. “What?”

“Boost me up. I can get in the side window, then pull you up afterward.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “We could do that.”

They crept to the side of the veranda, beneath a dormer window, and Rose limbered up, then wound her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. “I’m ready. How do you want to do this?”

Eddie held out his arms moving them up and down, like he was looking for somewhere to grab. “Maybe you should get on my shoulders? Jump up?”

The air seemed to crackle as she stepped toward him, looping her arms about his shoulders. She was so nervous she jumped straight away, until her legs locked about his waist and his head oh for god’s sake his head was at a level with her chest.

“Not that way,” He said, muffled by their clothes. “I meant jump on my back, not my front!”

“That would have made sense.”

“We’ll go with it,” he said, shifting her weight in his arms. “Can you reach the window from here?”

“Back up to the wall for me.”

He did as she asked. “Now?”

Her fingertips were so near, bark-scraped palms flush against the bottom of the window pane, almost able to push open the sash window. “Almost, let me get a bit higher.”

She wriggled up him, until somehow her knees were planted on his shoulders. “Yes, I've got it!”

“Hmm. Fuck. Oh god.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not light.”

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice was muffled again. “Just be careful where you move, or the couple on the porch won’t be the only ones out here getting to third base.”

She pushed open the window and the momentum carried her slightly forward, realising just at the wrong moment that his head was very much in between her legs. Panic and adrenaline made her pull herself into the window more than her arms could under normal circumstances, and before long she was crumpled on the floor of her attic bedroom, quivering in a heap. 

“Uh, Rosie? You in there?”

She sat up so quick it made her lightheaded. “Yep, I'm coming.” She appeared over the window ledge and looked down into big, brown eyes and a dimpled smile.

He threw his arms up, dropping down on one knee like a knight in a fairy tale. “Rapunzel, let down your hair,” 

“What?” She grabbed her braid, looking at it like a slack-jawed idiot. “Oh. Something to climb. I see.” She dived back into her room, switching on a lamp. Her scarf? Her hockey stick? Her eyes landed on the floral blue dressing gown on the wardrobe door, she pulled the terry cloth belt from it and threw it out the window.

Holding the rope with one hand, he climbed up the wall like a limber monkey, latching onto her arm as he neared the top and launching himself into the window, jean chain clanking on the sill. They collided again, proximity making her drunk and dizzy, lightheaded from being in the presence of all this Eddie. She was suddenly very aware Eddie Munson was just between her legs, whilst they broke into her attic room, with a raging party going on downstairs and music throbbing through the floorboards. There was no way she’d anticipated the night ending like this.

He rubbed his scratched palms together and became aware of his surroundings, peering into the corners, wandering around aimlessly, poking at her things. “So this is like your lair? Very creepy, very cool. Very Rose.”

“You think?”

“Hell yeah,” he gave her an enthusiastic nod. Oh god, he looked good in that shirt, it was sinful. He zeroed in on the bookshelves, fingers tracing on the spines. “That is a looot of books. If you didn’t have a wall of sexy guys plastered right next to it, I'd be kind of intimidated, y’know?”

“I’m a connoisseur of bands and movies,” she said, eyeing the posters of her old crushes, marvelling that the new one, the real one, was right there. “Purely a coincidence that they’re all very attractive men.”

“Harrison Ford,” Eddie appraised the poster of Indiana Jones. “Classic. I get it, it’s the whip, isn’t it.”

“Of course, every girl’s dream,” she replied. “Would you...would you mind waiting outside the door while I get changed? As much as I like this jacket, I-”

His mood shifted, becoming more guarded. “Oh, I get it. I don’t want a particular person to get the wrong impression, like I carry you into your bedroom window in a state of undress all the time. Especially when they might be downstairs, dancing to shitty music with the rest of the popular crowd.”

Chrissy was here? Rose supposed it made sense, she’d seen half the cheerleading squad in witchy outfits attacking the keg earlier. Come to think of it, she didn’t know who half the people in the house were, partly due to the costumes, but clearly a bigger crowd had been summoned by the invite from the former King of Hawkins High. “I didn’t realise there was someone...I mean I thought, but...”

“It’s okay,” Eddie flapped around nervously, inspecting her bookshelves again. “I kind of figured it out last week. Moving on swiftly, I can either sneak downstairs or go back out the window. I’m thinking the window; Chris might kneecap me with the sledgehammer on the way down the stairs, he looks like he was taking that responsibility very seriously.”

“I don’t want you to break your neck on the way down. I’ve never seen someone trip on their own feet so much, except Robin, maybe. If I didn’t know you were stone cold sober I’d think you were drunk.”

Eddie took the mortal blow badly, clutching his chest. “Me? Clumsy? I’m as graceful as a...okay, you got me there McAllister.”

Fuck. He was so clumsy, so charming, so infuriatingly on the same wavelength as Rose. It was typical, she supposed. She found someone she was crazy about, and he was crazy about someone else. 

Eddie had given her more courage and more reason to break out from her carefully crafted shell of invisibility than anyone. And maybe, just maybe, she should do something very…stupid. Then he was walking away, back facing, his hand on the doorknob.

“Eddie, wait,” she caught his arm. His pretty brown eyes found hers, boring into her heart. “I need to say something.”

He swallowed. “Is this the part where you tell me you wanna leave Hellfire? I don't want…I guess it-”

“No, you idiot! I love Hellfire. It's something else, stupid really.”

He stood up straight, becoming more serious. “Yeah?”

She took a deep breath. “I really, really-”

Darkness covered them like a thick blanket, pitch black so dark she could only feel his arm, not see him at all. Jeering and shouting from a half a hundred teens all at once rose through the house; then the music died, and all she could feel was her racing heart.

“Party's over, dipshits,” Steve cried out downstairs, to a chorus of boos. “If you're still here in five minutes, congratulations, you volunteered for clean up duty.”

Eddie's warm breath fanned her face in the dark. “I'd, um, offer to stay, but I have six guys to get home in the van, three of them freshmen and possibly buzzed for the first time.”

“Of course, you should collect the hellspawn,” Rose managed a lame laugh. “It's dark, so you can sneak down the stairs without being seen.”

“Well, don't mean to brag, but this bard's stealth is pretty high.”

He began to pull away.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For being so kind.”

His hand squeezed hers. “Anytime, Rosie. Just say the word.”

In three heartbeats he was gone, stirring the air in his wake. And despite sneaking into her window with a boy, an out if control keg party, and the prospect of parents on the rampage for an impromptu rager, she'd trade every one of those high school cliche’s just to hold onto him a minute longer, or as long as he'd let her.

[toxi-works-at-culvers]

Uhm, question(s) about your William if you don’t mind me rambling a bit!! Please forgive me if I say some lore inaccurate stuff.. I don’t know your Williams lore head to toe (unfortunately)

How the hell did he hide (if he did hide his pregnancies, I’m going to assume yes because homophobia and what not) a whole — no I’m sorry — three whole pregnancies??? I’ve thought about it a bit too because my William is also a trans man… but seriously… like there’s so much to consider 😭 I know there’s a few obvious answers like “Oh, you know he wears baggy clothes to hide it” but you can’t hide like fatigue and nausea, for example, if that makes sense. Also how did Henry feel about his pregnancies? (if he was aware of them, of course. Excluding Elizabeth because.. ahem.. that’s totally not also his daughter in this case.. cough cough)

Again sorryyy for rambling 😔 I just have a lot of questions, yeah? English isn’t my first language ignore my booty sentence structure pls

HIII NO WORRIES ANON UR GOOD!!! sooo i sort of already did talk about this before HOWEVER i certainly don't mind going over it again. i will paraphrase but you can find the original text Here!

because william is fat, it takes longer for any signs of his pregnancy to be visually noticeable, and so he remains in the public eye during that time and continues performing until he cant anymore.

once he's unable to perform AND it's noticeable that he's pregnant, he shifts to doing more behind the scenes stuff. mostly staying at home and coming in to do paperwork or other shit around the restaurant before any employees arrive to see him and then leaves early/late.

henry and clara both help to cover for him. most people dont ask henry because he'll just give them a glare but if they ask where william went he'll say he's been feeling unwell. clara also does the same. the pregnancy is never announced. unless clara somehow finds a way to look believably pregnant to divert suspicion. shrugs

and if william ever got spotted, a lot of people in the community probably wouldn't even realize. its 1970something after all, and men can't get pregnant right? william is a man. we know this to be true. it could never happen

william could explain nausea with bad food or simply being sick i think. fatigue gets the sick excuse as well. or he could say he's simply tired from all the things he has to manage at the diner. those are admittedly a little less believable but, ah, oh well

as for how henry felt! he was aware of all of them since he and william are both personally close and work close. he acommodates by finding a replacement performer and bringing stuff to william. i think he is prettyyyy neutral for the most part? the first pregnancy with michael, he might be sort of disgusted (he was raised as a christian and all) but opinions sort of change over time. it becomes normal to him. elizabeth is both a terrifying surprise that could fuck everything up and a joy/blessing to him at the same time. he sort of likes getting to care for william while he's pregnant. Normal Boy Best Friend Behavior. Of Course.

& ITS OKAY ANON I LOVE RAMBLING & YOUR ENGLISH WAS PERFECTLY FINE!! THANKS FOR THE ASK :3

[crescendof1]

would love to hear about your girl George fic!

omg girl!george au is soo special to me thank you guys so much for caring about her!!! i posted the first little bit of the fic here.

basic premise is george cannot be normal about being one of the only girls on the grid and it gets in the way of everything. her and max hook up after baku 2023 and then enter a terrible situationship where they hook up all the time, and they almost go on dates but neither of them knows where they stand with the other. george is terrified of being seen as having 'slept her way to the top' and is worried that she'll just be seen as max's wag if they're together for real, sooo dating is hard for her to like wrap her head around. max is just waiting for her to stop being so squirmy so he can ask her out for real. and then!! george does a swimsuit photo shoot/interview for some magazine. she catches max talking about it to some of the other drivers and to her that's confirmation of all the things she's afraid of! so she ghosts him for a bit and they have to go through The Horrors (trying not to spoil the whoooole plot) until they get their happy ending :)

snippet from post-baku under the cut!!

George lays there for a long moment, coming down from cloud nine gently. Max is still between her legs, but he’s moved his torso to the side, head resting on the mattress right beside her ribcage so he’s not totally smothering her. They catch their breath together for a while, the air conditioner humming. Eventually, Max gets out of bed and walks towards the ensuite.  Sated and happy, George can’t help herself but imagine the rest of the evening playing out like a romance novel. Max will go to the bathroom, and get her a washcloth, and gently wipe her down. Then she’ll pull him back down for a long sweet kiss, and he’ll wrap her in his arms and they’ll fall asleep pressed together like that. 

The thought bubble bursts when Max whistles at himself. He’s standing in the middle of the room, still stark naked, and he’s craning his neck over his shoulder to look at himself in the mirror on the far wall. Or rather to look at his back, which is covered in long, deep scratches from George’s nails. 

“Oh my God,” Max laughs, “you are such a hypocrite, talking about ‘no marks,’ and then doing this,” he says lightly as he steps into the bathroom.  

George feels sick, suddenly. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” she says over the sound of the running tap. The vision of Max in her head twists, from laying in bed with her to him pulling the collar of his shirt down, bragging about her to his friends. She imagines walking by the Red Bull garage and hearing the mechanics whisper about her. People already think she’s slept her way up to the top, she couldn’t take adding this fuel to the fire. 

“Wasn’t going to,” Max gripes as he comes back out of the bathroom. George is sitting up already, trying to arrange her facial expression into something demanding instead of begging. Max tosses her the washcloth none too gently, chewing at his lip like he’s annoyed with something. 

Probably the fact that I’m still in his room, she thinks to herself and stands up. Her legs are shaky underneath her, but the cloth is warm between her legs and she wipes herself off. Max just watches her.

“I mean it, though,” she continues, pulling her underwear back on, “not even your friends.” 

She puts her polo back on next, her face is covered by the fabric as Max grumbles, “Message received. Do you need me to call you a car?” 

George can dish it out, but she can’t take it. The confirmation that he wants her out stings. She wonders if he regrets it already. “No,” she says, “Aleix said he’d come get me. Shared rental and all that.” 

“Ok,” Max says simply, boxers and t-shirt already back on. He sits down on the couch, picks his controller back up. The game of FIFA is still paused. Her phone is still propped up on the water bottle, her onboard playing on repeat. All the mess was on themselves, wiped away now. The duvet is barely crinkled. The only proof she didn’t imagine the whole thing are the red lines down either side of Max’s spine. But those are under his tee, now, completely hidden. It’s like the whole thing never happened.