#not edited what's new

[ghost-proofbaby]

Hi Ghost! Mega congrats on 3k!! 🥳can i get a filthy martini with eddie munson? Maybe with some sneaking around fun? Thankyou!!

thank you so much!! ngl, i'm very proud of this one. i definitely got carried away, but i swear the smut is there, somewhere amongst the 3k+ words!!! this is really just one long love letter to eddie munson. hope i did your idea justice! also got heavily inspired by taylor swift's song "cruel summer", but what's new?

come party with me!

summertime and stardust (eddie munson x fem!reader)

warnings: smut, p in v, raw dog heathen prevails (aka unprotected sex). also a lot of references to mythology. my bad. i think i got too much prose all over my smut. oops.

Hawkins was always boring in the summer, and maybe that’s how the two of you ended up in this predicament. It was a sweltering wasteland of quarries that had started drying up long before July even arrived, and twenty four hour diners that were occupied with waitresses that made it very clear that they were sick of seeing yours and Eddie’s faces before even a week of freedom. Half of the usual hangout spots the two of you had considered hidden gems were quickly overrun by the middle-schoolers and freshmen that now had nothing but time on their hands (Eddie had taken the loss of the Arcade badly). So it was no surprise that you two ended up here, at the shore of Lover’s Lake, side by side on a blanket that Eddie had kept in the back of his van. 

“Which one is that one?” you ask, lifting a finger to trace out a constellation winking down at the two of you. 

“Orion,” Eddie immediately answers, hardly having to squint to make out the stars as you were, “Want to hear the story behind that one?”

“Is that even a question?” 

This is how the two of you had spent the last hour. On your backs, gazing at the stars, exchanging stories and theories that did not belong to either of you. Tales of Greek Gods and Goddesses, smartass remarks and make-believe when one of you couldn’t identify the constellation. There’s nothing else but you, Eddie, and the cicadas this far out of town. A buzz of relief and tranquility to bask in. Every so often, you could make out the lake water lapping at the shore not far from where both your feet rest, Eddie’s stretching past the blanket. 

It was nice. Every night you had spent out here had been very nice.

You turn on your side to listen to Eddie ramble about Orion, somehow both eloquent but still unfairly funny in his side comments of his opinion on the tale. He makes it very clear that he finds Orion to be deserving of losing his sight - “Seriously, fuck that dude!” - and you can only watch on, entranced by the boy and his starry eyes. 

“I think the version where Artemis murked his ass is pretty good, but I also like the idea behind Gaia sending a Scorpion to kill him, because then they’re opposing constellations and sh- Are you even listening to me?” Eddie pauses when you bring a hand up to his chest, fingertips dancing over the damp cotton of his t-shirt. 

You can’t hide the small smile tilting your lips as you nod, biting back giggles, “Oh, absolutely.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, arms crooked up to rest behind his head, biceps straining against the worn sleeves of his t-shirt. You resist the urge to just bury yourself into him, curl against his side and press, press, press until the two of you conjoin, never to separate again. 

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he lowly chuckles, eyes looking back up to the sky as your fingers begin to trace patterns higher, now skimming his barely-exposed collarbones. 

This is how it usually goes. He’s watching the sky, you’re watching him. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the change. 

Everyone in town knew that the two of you are friends; it’s not a secret. You’d met in school, partnered for a chemistry lab, and the rest was history. Everyone knew that you were the first person Eddie showed every new Corroded Coffin song to, and everyone knew Eddie was the last person you spoke to at the end of every day. And surely, they had to know to some extent, that you both reserved your summer nights for each other. 

The change is what they didn’t know. 

Steve and Robin would tease you two when you’d come into Family Video, a new thriller or horror movie always in hand at the checkout. Dustin would make gagging noises when Eddie would dramatically bid you farewell before Hellfire Club would commence, making endless jokes about his wife returning from war, how lonesome he would be now as you walked through the door and out of his sights for the next several hours. Even Mike, even Max, even Joyce, had made off-handed comments about your attachment to each other. 

But they were all always joking. They never saw any purchase in their words, their relentless teasing never serious because they couldn’t fathom a world where those jokes were actually correct. 

They could never fathom the nights you and Eddie would end up cuddling each other while studying, pressed together too tightly to leave space for friendly speculation. They could never fathom the way Eddie would drag you into the darkest corners of the arcade, his hands tight on your hips and your breath brushing his cheek as he nuzzled his way against your neck, teeth and lips alike nipping at you in desperation until you caved and gave him a chaste kiss. They could never fathom the way Eddie had been holding you to him by the end of these nights spent by the lake, pressing his body into yours and reveling in every whimper that was only his to hear. 

No, they couldn’t fathom that half of the story. They knew you two were close, but they didn’t know just how intertwined your lifelines had become with the boy lying beside you. And that was fine, you didn’t care for them to know about those sacred moments laden with secrecy. All you really cared about was that the boy before you was all your summer nights and all your starry skies, brimming with clandestine glances and whispers of worship in moments alone. That was enough for you. Here, in your bubble of privacy by the lake sans persistent cicadas and gentle waves, he was yours. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie murmurs, bringing a hand up to yours that continues to explore his body innocently, intertwining your fingers with his before resting them over his heart. 

It was drumming in his chest – you could feel each beat perfectly, breaking through the Iron Maiden logo and against your skin. After a few moments, your own racing heart synced with his, a quiet rhythm coursing through your veins. You hope he could feel it, too. 

“Just thinking about how it’s just us out here,” you whisper back, voice low and careful not to break this moment. All of the paths, all of the dead-end streets you had both endured, just for moments like this, “How it’s always just us.” 

You mean more than the fact that you never invite anyone else out on your endeavors, but Eddie takes it that way anyway, snorting. 

“You wanna start inviting the guys out here?” he jokes through more laughter, making you attempt to break your hand free from his in order to smack at his chest. He doesn’t let you, though, only tightening his fingers’ grip on yours, “Think that Gareth would like the show? Or maybe Jeff?”

“Stop,” you whine, starting to fight him with your whole body now, still trying to get your hand free. You nearly roll on top of him, your giggles now joining his, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

He doesn’t reply as the two of you continue to wrestle. At some point, he takes his free hand and begins to tickle you, making your giggles turn into awful screeches, echoing in the warm, stale air around the two of you. You twist and twist and twist, trying to get away from his merciless grip. You’re no longer holding hands, him now utilizing both to attack your sides before moving toward your armpits.

“Don’t!” you gasp out, realizing what he was about to do. He’s on his side now, you flat on your back as he begins to hover over you, “Edward Munson, don’t you dare!” 

But he does dare. And even as you’re slapping at his shoulders, even when he overexaggerated how much your knee knocking against his thigh hurt, even when the weight of him presses you down into the blanket and threatens to bury you into the soft dirty of the small-town beach, you know it in your heart – there is no where else you’d rather be in this moment. 

The compromising position that results from the ridiculous tickling and wrestling is welcome, Eddie’s body heavy between your legs as his torso drapes over yours. Your face-to-face with him, now looking in those dazzling brown eyes for constellations rather than the sky above. 

His grin from the entire interaction has begun to ache, but it doesn’t falter as he bumps his nose to yours gently, “I’m sorry. I get it, I know what you mean. It’s always been just us,” he pauses before scrunching up his face, rearing up to continue to tease you before he playfully mocks, “You and me against the world, baby.”

You smack at his chest with fruition this time, making a soft oomph fall from his lips that pass over yours, “I was just trying to be sentimental, you dick.” 

The grin finally falls away, but the corners of his eyes stay crinkled, “I know.” 

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s like a breath of fresh spring air. You’re no longer in Hawkins’ muggy summer weather, instantly transported somewhere far away where the sun is just warm enough for comfort, where the breeze is just soft enough to wrap around your shoulders like a favorite blanket, where every strawberry is the sweetest and nothing will ever hurt. 

The world can be cruel, both in heat waves and hurting souls, but he never is. He’s a sanctuary – he’s your sanctuary. 

His sickly sweet kisses continue, taking your breath away in a willing way, leaving both your lips shades of summer blooms and spring flowers. His tongue is a welcome prodding, almost as if tending to your garden as he tries to get the two of you even closer. It’s not possible, but it doesn’t stop either of you; chests crush together as foreheads clash, and you yearn for a world where you could just curl up beneath each other’s skin, clamber your way into his chest and nestle right beside his pounding heart.

Only Artemis knows that he’s already made residency in yours, decorating your ribs and lungs with his flowers of adoration. 

Between desperate breaths and needy hands, hips beginning to roll and curse the clothing you two have yet to get rid of, you silently wonder where the two of you will end up in this lifetime. You hope it’s amongst the stars. You hope your constellation can find his across the night sky. 

 “Baby,” he begs. You don’t know what he’s begging for – for closeness, for your legs to fall further open and welcome him home, for you to swallow him whole with all the love pounding just beneath the surface of you – so you can only kiss him back with more urgency. 

The urgency follows through both of your movements. Urgency is what removes his shirt, your hands shaking as his chest is exposed to you in the moonlight. Urgency is what unbuttons your shorts, prickles of thorns when his fingertips make contact with your nude hip. Urgency is the slip of his hand into your panties, fingers curling and swirling in every right pattern to have you preening against him. 

“Off,” you plead with him once he has you down to just your underwear and him just his boxers. Your palms rack down desperately over the waistband before trailing down to his bulge, fevered movements earning more purpose as you press down on him and elicit a moan. 

He recovers his composure, only to shake his head down at you, curls ticking your cheeks, “Ever heard of a thing called patience, sweetheart?” 

“Fuck patience,” you immediately argue, pulling yourself back from his lips fully, eyes meeting and lips slick with each other’s spit, “We have the entire summer to be patient, Eddie. Just… Just fuck me. Please.” 

You awakened something in him with those words, you saw away whatever restraint he was holding onto so tightly. These nights always ended the same way, but they never felt the same. 

Familiarity waits in the shadows as each graze of his skin against yours ignites something new in you. New flowers, new petals, new budding growths that scream that this can’t last for just the summer. Whatever this is, as he removes your panties and his boxers, is not just a coming and going on the seasons. It’s not just a constellation only to be seen in the quiet of the night by two lovesick fools sneaking off to observe it. The heat of the summer that frizzes both your hair and his repeats it, the cooler breeze that rolls off the lake behind you guys encourages it. It may have taken the summer to tend to it, but this is only the beginning of it. Not the end – never the end.

And he fucks you like he knows it, too. He can hear the whispers of it all, telling him to pull you closer, telling him to take his time as he pushes into you and feels your walls stretch around him. It isn’t quite patience, it isn’t quite cruelty. It’s just you, and it’s just him. 

“Fuck,” he moans out once he’s fully sheathed inside you, cock pulsing as your wetness tightens on him. Really, it’s a shame that no deity will ever experience the devotion you feel pouring off of him as his mouth falls open for you, as his head rolls back and his eyes flutter close. He’s devoted to you – he’s yours just as you’re his, “Always so wet for me, baby. Always so good.” 

He finds a familiar rhythm to have you both gasping and groaning, and it still feels brand new. The way you feel him deep in your stomach, the way your thighs quiver and his abdomen tightens. It is all always new and it is all always euphoric. 

If you lift your eyes to find the stars above you almost winking at you, you can feel that he’s not fucking you as you’d requested; he’s making love to you. He is confessing his past sins and he is professing that he’d spend the rest of his days here, inside you, against you, with you. 

The roll of his hips don’t stay slow for long, though. You both know the love is there, and you both know what the two of you need. Eventually, soft confessions and loud professions become slapping of skin on skin, teeth knocking as you try to keep your lips on his. You swallow every moan and he grabs every mewl. You can feel his hands on your waist, your hips, your thighs. He is everywhere all at once, and it still isn’t enough. 

It’s not enough until his movements stutter, until his voice has grown hoarse from calling out your name for only the two of you to hear. Your nails rake down his back at some point, and you know that come tomorrow night, beside the lake, you’ll be tracing fading red lines that spell out a clear message: he belongs to me because he chose me. 

Your walls flutter around him and he knows without you saying a single word other than ramblings of his name that you’re close.

“Cum for me,” he’s begging again, lifting above you and looking down with wide, wet eyes, “Fuck- I- Please cum for me, baby. Need you to cum. Please.” 

You whine out in response, head tilting back into the grass around the edges of the blanket, consumed by him. Your ears ring as your vision blacks, the last image you see being his face contorted in pleasure, and you can’t decipher whether it’s the lake again that you hear or simply your own waves meeting his shore. 

The echoes of his voice surround you. 

“Just like that, sweetheart.”

“Doing so good for me.”

“Always such a good girl.” 

When his own high has its hold on him, his head is falling to your shoulder, his nose buried into your sweet spot behind your ear as you listen to every grunt and moan. He holds you painfully close, like he’s scared that maybe this is the end. You ponder bruises in the shapes of roses forming on your hips as he buries deep in you and he paints your walls with warmth, with devotion, with something unspoken only between the two of you. 

He collapses on top of you in the afterglow. Savors the moment, lets his lips pucker against your salty skin slick with sweat no longer just from summer. His own hair is matted at the knape of his neck, his cheeks, his forehead. 

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your chest. It’s overflowing, mingling with the still crying cicadas. He lifts his head and glances up at you, smiling shyly. 

“What?” 

You continue to laugh, unable to answer him, as he pulls out and cleans you up with his t-shirt. If you weren’t so delirious with unbridled delight, you’d scorn him. 

He doesn’t bother with redressing as he rolls to his original side of the blanket, laying on his back and wrapping his arms around you to pull you into him, “What’s so damn funny, my beautiful girl?” 

You think Artemis, maybe even Orion, would smile down at the sight of the two of you. Perhaps Gaia is sending her well wishes to the love-stricken look you two exchange in the form of a breeze that doesn’t bring more heat, only relief, only sanctuary. 

“We are not inviting Gareth or Jeff out here, ever,” you finally explain breathlessly, “This place is for just us, Munson.” 

He joins you in your lingering giggles, his chest shaking with them more than he vocalizes them as your cheek finds his heart and presses into his cheek. 

Whatever this is, label or not, is good. And it is only the beginning, never the end. Whether the others will ever know or not, the two of you always will, and that’s all that matters for the time being. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, holding you just a little bit tighter, “Always just us, you heathen.” 

He brings a finger to your chin, tilting your face up. When he kisses you, it tastes like summertime and stardust, just as it should.

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[hinamie]

I'll rip in hands and teeth and take a bite

[kaptainandy]

herbert west playing yugioh if you even care 🙄

[magicicephoenix]

dca brainrot came back 👍

[squishedegg]

I saw this post and rushed to make this edit

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 2

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[girlwiththegreenhat]

team fortress 2 finally getting rid of the bots after 5 years

work on the team fortress 2 comic continuing after 7+ years

half life 3 development looking more likely than ever with legitimate code, file, and voicework leaks referencing a new non-VR single-player game from valve featuring a HEV suit wearing protagonist and Xen creatures and concepts

shoutout to the valve fan that found the genie lamp. you a real one

[javaclown]

🌈🌈🌈

[etchif]

Jesus imagine if we confirm the existence of extraterrestrial life the Taxonomy would be insane

[yilinglaozu]

@asiandramanet december bingo - comfort

[arcanegifs]

Here's more comparisons of Arcane Gifs before and after I color and sharpen em!

[waywardstation]

It’s been cool getting to see Ingo and Emmet’s beta designs! (Bless @enhancedpartytime for working hard to get the sprites and feed this fandom!!)

[royalphantompain]

[ghostbsuter]

Robin¹ aka Nightwing had Batgirl... (the ginger one), then Robin³ had his own (The blond), and then the blond Batgirl (he's pretty sure she was a Robin too?) became spoiler–

The dark shadows, Danny swears, that was a Batgirl too, she goes by BlackBat now tho, had a major upgrade and everything!

But, Danny nods, the current Robin doesn't have a Bat partner.

And he did say he wouldn't be Phanton anymore. No hero (or at least solo) and...

Would Sam really be mad if he got himself the Bat title and kicked ass with Robin?

(It would be fair, Robin saved Cujo's life. That's the rule of ghosts, give back what was given. He saved Cujo's afterlife, so Danny as Cujo's behalf will make sure Robin does not die.)