#shit looks dope as hell
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Eh, I was in a weird experimental mood. Have this. Dubbed 'Who Are You?' Pretty sure I've said this but I love characters that either are not human or beyond human... because existentialism is fun to think about.
My monitor makes this look 3-D which is awesome.
#rvb#red vs blue#rvb simmons#I just think that he probably had a bit of a crisis after the meds and hype wore off#realizing that perhaps becoming a cyborg wasn't as cool and dope as he thought it was gonna be#cause i mean come ON if anything he should have been able to throw a fucking punch or catch one from Tex#like my poor boy just got all these 'enchancements' but none of the benefits? i call bullshit - Sarge builds weapons of mass destruction#shit maybe this bitch has a bomb in him if he dies... I dunno#but srsly this boyo should have been punching and kicking metal with his new metal#Also I will never not shut up about him being able to make a hologram of himself - even if it just mirrors his movements#that shit would have been epic to see in a fight and useful too#I love every fic that has capitalized on his Cyberness SO fucking much holy hell#. . . > . > Okay and also like hear me out - I think because of how his system works and how he's not like pure human anymore...#I think if (Any version of) Church were to have linked with him it would have been different than how the Freelancers or Tucker had him#I have an idea or a fic... >.> I have Many Ideas for Many Fics but specifically one about this concept. Toying with it.#Random AF but YALL - I always felt his “fax ass” was more like a Tramp Stamp - it's just a port that looks like a disk drive#so anymore morse code is fun ;3
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oh hey old art i never posted back in uh *checks date* December 13, 2021.
i am never going back to finish this lmao. but also what the fuck
@siiversans // GIN BELONGS TO KIA PLEASE LOVE THE POOR BOY I WANT TO GIVE HIM LOVE BUT I DIDN'T FINISH THIS RRRRRRR
#utmv#gin sans#ink sans#chasm art#bro what was i ON#like what the FUCK!!!!!!!#HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS I ON#WHY DOES THIS LOOK DOPE AS HELL#FOR OLD ART JUST#anyway i'm too lazy to find the one anon ask off kia's blog about yellow - yoh kamiyama but that's what inspired this in the first place#(i even sent an anon message back then asking 'hey do u mind if i try' and they replied with 'sure!' and i just never responded HDLKAJFHDS)#like i did the first half of the song and everything but this was the chorus so obviously i went full on ANIMATION WOOOOO#i wanna ANIMATE LIKE THIS AGAIN#RAHHHHH I REMEMBER IT BEING SO TEDIOUS BUT SO FUCKING FUN#GIVE ME THAT ENERGY BACK#anyway i'm not finishing this. that's why i'm posting it lol#me digging up old ass artwork i never posted because it was 'unfinished' as if i was ever going to finish it in the first place LMAO! liar#i was compiling an animation portfolio and went 'ayo wait i did a thing back then' and i went on a journey trying to find this'#i remember literally saving so many reference images of the fight scene oh my godddd i wonder if i still have them on my ipad :'''''D
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Death and his Prophet, from my book, The Unwanted Prophet
Art by @0ddoblivion
#got to commission a dream artist HELL yeah#i love enochs shit so much it rocks#and i knew gethin would look fuckin dope in his style and i was RIGHT#0ddoblivion#my characters#gethin#quincy sauer#quincy#the unwanted prophet
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It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:
Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.
Guard 1: What weird guy?
Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?
Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?
Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.
Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.
Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.
Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?
Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.
Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.
Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?
Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.
Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?
Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?
Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.
Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.
Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.
Librarian: How long has he been coming here?
Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.
Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.
Guard 2: Wait, really?
Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.
Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?
Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.
Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?
Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!
Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?
Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.
Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!
Archivist: Also he's really old.
Guard 1: Old as balls.
Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.
Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.
Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.
Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.
Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?
Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.
Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.
Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?
Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.
Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?
Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.
Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?
Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!
Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!
Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.
Guard 1: Why not?
Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?
Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!
Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.
Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.
Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!
Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.
Archivist: You're not a baby.
Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!
Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.
Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?
Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?
Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?
Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.
Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?
Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.
Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.
Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.
Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?
Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.
Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?
Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.
Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.
Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?
Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.
Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!
Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?
Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?
Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-
Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?
Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?
Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!
Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)
Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?
Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.
Librarian: Oh.
Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.
Librarian: Oh.
Guard 1: Fuck yeah!
#fun fact: the Khuzdul name Tharkûn means 'staff-man'#so the Dwarves also call him 'the stick guy'#on the naming of things#sufficiently verbose prose#that's what I'm Tolkien about
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I am about to say something that is gonna sound so backhanded but like I really hope Gigi Hadid stays modeling into her old age cause she really would have such an air about her.
Look at these pieces from Chanel
Like obviously Gigi is 29 and her fave just looks older at that show because she’s just given birth and also yeah she fucked around and found out with some fillers but like I think it totally works for this look.
Those pieces only look good when worn with a more mature face and would look totally tacky on some 19 year old model.
People have been giving her shit all year for not being as skinny or as young as she was before before yk giving birth and shit but I’m totally into it. She DOES look comepletely different from her it girl hilfiger years and she DOES look older and I think it’s really working for her and I wanna see more.
#Gigi hadid#Chanel costume jewelry#listen this only sounds backhanded if you think looking old is a bad thing#and she DOES look older than her years rn and that’s probably gonna go away after a while but I think she looks so good#somebody is gonna give me shit for this#and I’m willing to take it I’m sure I’ve just been horribly insulting#but on a high fashion level I think she looks dope as hell
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Anyone with nipple RINGS instead of barbells is fucking off their rocker insane and stupid but also 100000% braver than anyone else in the world ever Also they have inhuman luck and skill to have so far avoided the Terrible Fate That Will Befall Them
#think about it. if u (still) have nipple rings. youre one of the lucky ones. youre a god among us until you one day fall#peace and love you batshit risktaker it looks dope as hell#one tug and your shit's coming off like pepperonis
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I'd like to say I was drawing more this month, but tbh, with work on Outbreak and one of my coworkers getting sick (on top of going from good mental health at the beginning of the month to baaaad mental health towards the end) I really don't have much to show for it.
So here's my Shapeshifting Horny Fey Artist who's in an artistic slump going on adventures in the material plane and having existential crises... Or more likely, my man is memeing on himself.
#the disappointment speaks#drawings by me#ocs#sort of life woes given I've been kinda drained lately but hey that's just how it be on this bitch of an earth#I mean my goal for the year is to reorganize downsize and reset my main space to work better for me#so maybe then I'll have more want to draw or do stuff. idk. maybe#but hey if theres anything I've realized now more than ever#fuckin furnature is expensive as hell#my bed was bought like. its one of those ikea box with drawers in it style beds yeah? its great! love the storage#it was bought I wanna say around 2003 ish. it's an old and sturdy bitch that is kinda small for me now but uh#to put it simply I gotta move it around a bit before I could consider a larger bed. anyhow.#I looked into one dresser that's perfect. 5 drawers. reasonably sized. ikea. its like 400$. my bed was bought for 200$#this is all in CAD so maybe its like that because of CAD but STILL. fucking shit's fucking expensive.#I'm already gonna drop minimum 600$ for bonus extra stuff I'll be getting myself when I finally can reorganize#and when I get rid of deadass 6 pieces of furniture that barely function that'll be dope as fuck#but like come on. my furniture I need to get costs 3x my monthly paycheck. it's too expensive. thank god I only have to buy them once tho#hopefully. Unless wario's massive fat dumper lands on my dresser or some shit and breaks it completely within three years or w/e
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Beat Mesa and Cardinal Movement are such sickass names. and the designs are dope as hell. every time Beat Mesa appears in the first acts of the comic i have to pause reading and just look at that scratch construct all giddy and in awe. just such a fun and fascinating concept
like look at those and try to tell me this isnt cool as shit. hussie was cooking designing those things
#homestuck#so dope#i wish ive had a cool idea for original time player oc just to design their scratch construct
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Steve Harrington had known for a while that he was on thin ice. His parents let him change his hair and clothes and name after a harrowing night that ended with him in a hospital bed.
So he tried to behave. They couldn’t complain as long as he played the perfect son. He did everything right. He excelled at sports, he didn’t make a fuss, he even fell in love with a wonderful girl.
Though, things got a little rocky when his dealer left town and handed things over to the local freak show. When he went to pick up his bottles, Loudmouth Munson tried to get under his skin.
“Y’know I always had a feeling you were doping.” Munson said, leaning against the picnic table.
“Would you just hand it over?” Steve held out his hand for the containers Munson was keeping hostage.
“This is a lot, Harrington, you’d think Hawkins would have actually won a championship by now with you on this stuff.”
Steve resisted the urge to rip it from his hands. Munson grinned an insufferable smile, like he enjoyed how much Steve was glaring at him.
“I’m not taking it because of basketball,” Steve said.
“So why then?”
“I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“Dude,” Munson raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. Call it fair play. Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive about it.”
Steve’s hands were still itching to grab it. Munson seemed to notice how antsy he was, following his anxious gaze flickering between the package and Munson’s face.
“Don’t ya trust me, Harrington?” He said.
“Not even a little,” Steve replied. He felt a tendon jump in his jaw.
“Can’t handle the thought of not having your steroids? Some people actually need these hormones to survive, rich boy.” Munson’s tone switched from teasing to something more somber, or maybe bitter. It was hard for him to tell those things.
Under normal circumstances he would have never said what he ended up saying. Munson had a way of pushing his buttons.
“I need them.” Steve watched an ant crawl around a knot in the wood in front of him. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Nobody in this town would understand.”
Steve looked up at a shocked Eddie Munson and held out a handful of bills. “Give me my drugs, take your money, and don’t tell fucking anybody about this. You got it?”
Eddie didn’t move for a long moment, carefully studying Steve and his outstretched hand. His rings flashed as he pushed the package over to Steve’s side of the table and grabbed the money in one swift movement.
“‘Course, Harrington. You get dealer-dealee confidentiality just like everybody else.”
Steve was glad the transaction was over. He grabbed his hormones and stood up to leave when Eddie’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“You’re not the only one.”
Eddie looked very serious, dark curls brushing the tops of his furrowed brows. It was a good look on him.
Steve felt his hopes rise. There were others like him in town. But, how could he be sure that Eddie was talking about what he thought he was talking about?
“Munson,” Steve said cautiously, “I don’t think we’re on the same page.”
Eddie, still seated, crossed his arms. “I guess there’s no way to know for sure unless one of us says it plainly, and I’m sure as hell not going to. I don’t want to end up on the news.”
“You don’t trust me?” Steve echoed, quirking up the side of his mouth.
It got a small smile from Munson. “You don’t even know who it is; dealer-dealee confidentiality goes both ways. I can’t go around blabbing about what drugs everybody’s on, I’d alienate my customer base.”
“Then I guess we’re at a standstill.”
Eddie looked at him with a curious expression. “I guess so.”
Steve took a few steps away from the table, leaves crunching under feet, before turning around. He hesitated. Eddie looked at him with those dark brown eyes of his, which didn’t help his resolve.
“Eddie,” the man’s eyebrows raised at the use of his first name. Steve continued, “if you ever feel like blabbing, you know where to find me.”
Eddie stayed quiet for once, the sounds of the woods surrounding the two of them as they lingered.
“Same to you, Steve,” He finally replied.
#t4t steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#ftm eddie munson#trans eddie munson#eddie x steve#steddie ficlet#ftm steve harrington#trans steve harrington#steddie
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Msida Skatepark, Malta. via gnarmads.com.//.
#uploads#msida#this the skate park i saw but never got to go to while i was in malta#we passed it a ton of times driving places and at night it looked so fucking lit#there were a ton of people hanging and skating all over it and its in the middle of a giant roundabout its dope as hell#didnt bring my board and i never ended up finding a skate shop while i was there so i didnt get to check it out#but im tryna go back#jus seems like a sick ass place to hangout#now that im back on not gonna get full time at my work any time soon im back on my i should move somewhere#getting less scared of the idea of being out on my own by the day#was out with some friends at a bar the other night talking bout 28 is the year we all move#my friend from mtl was telling us she pays like 350 for rent a month like... my buddy keeps saying maybe thats the move#or malta or maybe berlin#gonna have to see but we back to day dreaming about it at least#gotta learn another language gotta figure out a new way to make money#mybe clothes shit will work out mybe ill actually get on my healthy fit shit n try to do sm modelling#mybe get a job work in a cool clothes store or somewhere . would jus have to learn a language tho if im outside TO#mybe mybe mybe#either way do wanna go back at least for a visit. mybe ill save up and go next summer
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eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.
so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.
he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.
because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.
eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.
(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)
when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”
then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?
he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.
“you’re alive,” she says.
eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”
“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”
he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.
“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.
“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—
“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.
“maybe not.”
“don’t lie.”
“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”
“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”
“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”
“speaking from experience?”
“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”
“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“
“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”
“at the frozen four.”
“yeah, sure, that too.”
“what?”
“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”
“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”
“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.
eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”
“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”
“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.
the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”
“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”
steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“
“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“
“so,” says steve.
“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.
“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”
“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”
“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”
“coach! go time!”
“yeah?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“COACH!”
he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”
“pick me up in twenty?”
“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.
someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”
with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.
“damn,” he says quietly.
“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.
“how long have you been there?” he asks.
she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”
“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”
“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”
a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#rockstar au#hockey au#two great tastes that taste great together tbh#cross posted on twitter#might clean this up later + pop it on ao3
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it's been way too long since i last did wildly self-indulgent fanart, so of course i did it for an SVSSS AU that doesn't even have any actual fanfiction written of it yet. but what can i say! it's a compelling scenario! Just check the original post for details!
here's a workplace doodle for his mess of an outfit, too:
Xin Mo is floating behind his back, wrapped in talismans. the collars are meant to be vaguely inspired on a flower bud.
Some notes i came up with for this version, copied straight from a month-old discord convo:
he may have protagonist halo now, but he's for sure not a stallion protagonist. he literally exchanged fates with his favorite person in the world in order to spare them a hellish trial-- that's romantic as fuck!! damn!! this is old CLAMP shoujo and no mistake!!
binghe may no longer be the protag, but he's still a half-heavenly demon. power-wise, heavenly demons can't be topped, and all the remaining heavenly demons are accounted for. so, SQQ can't be a heavenly demon, even in part.
HOWEVER, as a protagonist, there's a factor more important than power! it's the CHUUNI FACTOR. what's more CHUUNI™️ than being part demon?
one option is being part demon and part angel.
how would that even fucking work??????? IDK man, you can either pull from chinese folklore for fairies or heavenly beings or spirits, or you can blame Airplane and go "he accidentally implied the existence of christian elements by means of importing unexamined anime tropes"
Shen Jiu conveniently has a big fat blank on his parentage. We as fans can and have put whatever the hell we wanted there.
SQQ would jump into the abyss still under the impression SJ was a shallow villain. If his trip through the abyss involves recovering SJ's memories somehow, that sure would be fun times, huh?
so he awakens a mysterious ancestry and survives the abyss and takes Xin Mo, but he probably takes longer than Binghe did due to being squishier.
but Xin Mo isn't ACTUALLY his! so he papers it over with sealing talismans, and to battle the temptation to wield it he takes to wearing these longass sleeves. they're probably covered in talismans as well.
guessing Xiu Ya stayed behind to be mooned over by the clown trio in Cang Qiong. let's go full sparkle-sue here and say he's now fighting almost entirely via musical cultivation. i like swan-necked konghou harps so let's go with that, it'll look dope.
why is he barefoot? why WOULDN'T he be, is the question. fragile!! suffering!! dainty!! he's a shrinking flower, tormented by the weight of the One Sword To Rule Them All!!
also for extra pathos, his constant mental struggle against Xin Mo means he can't spare energy to front. it takes constant focus! he's still a bit in his delusional shit, but even when he's going "oh no, binghe is only latched throat-deep onto my dick because he's a good boy who's concerned about me and the danger i could pose by losing control" he'd probably… well, he'd probably say that out loud to anyone who asked. he's in a half-trance, mentally battling the crazy-making sword. lying is too much work.
Wouldn’t resisting Xin Mo’s influence be the mental and spiritual equivalent to training under 400x gravity or something? his wife-beam is going to be off the charts when he puts it down.
also also: who the hell dressed him like that? fucking shang qinghua, of course, after SQQ showed up in the northern palace to punish MBJ for hurting binghe in the conference. did the system explain shit to SQH? on the one hand, extremely funny if it updates him on the role change out of nowhere mid-alliance. on the other hand, extremely funny if he only finds out because Binghe is crying safely in Qing Jing while the scum villain apparently jumped into the abyss.
Here's another link to the original AU post! I've had it open on a tab all this time just so i could point to it when I was done, so make sure to check it out!
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Steve and Gareth as cousins warm up, part two!
First part is HERE.
Next part is HERE.
Reminder: Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine.
Warnings: Steve and Robin Get (canon-S3) Drugged.
"I'm just saying the other theater is cheaper." Eddie said around the straw jammed in his mouth.
He carried the largest bucket of popcorn Starcourt’s movie theater offered, alongside the two boxes of candy he'd also demanded Gareth buy him.
"Easier to sneak into, you mean." Gareth corrected, with his significantly smaller bag of popcorn. His, he planned to share with Jeff, Grant having snuck in his own food.
Gareth himself would have snuck in the cheaper (and far larger) snacks, but Eddie had thrown a fit about going to the mall to see a new movie instead of Hawkin’s far older theater.
Of course, the older theater also had several disadvantages, key of which was terrible seating, and so, Gareth had bribed him with whatever treats he wanted.
His wallet took a hit but fuck it, at least they got to actually see the screen.
Not that they even made it into the fucking theater, because someone chose that moment to crash into Eddie.
Popcorn kernels and soda flew everywhere, with Eddie only avoiding it landing on him and Gareth both by years of dealing with this exact bullshit in school. Of course, the mall wasn’t school, and neither of them had their guard up.
"What the hell man--" Eddie spat, immediately on the defense, as they both turned to see what jackass wanted to cause problems this time.
Except Gareth had recognized the person who bumped him.
"Steve?" Gareth asked, causing his cousin to totter around and face him. He was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, which remained to be absolutely ridiculous, but that hadn't been what had drawn Gareth's attention.
No, that would be the absolute wrecked face staring at him with a doped up grin.
All thoughts of the movie immediately faded away.
"What happened to your face!?" Gareth demanded, immediately stepping up into his cousin's space, eyes darting over the damage.
Recent black eye, split lip, blood splatter all down one side of his neck, nevermind his clothes…
"Robs!" Steve called over his shoulder instead of answering, body moving as if he was walking on a wildly rocking boat and not solid ground. "Come 'ere!"
He beamed, which had the horrific effect of resplitting his lips. "Meet Gareth, my baby cousin!"
"I am two years younger than you." Gareth argued on automatic. He didn’t look to see how Eddie took this little piece of info--he’d figure out what he’d say later, when Steve wasn’t covered in blood.
It did not stop Robin from reaching out to pinch his cheeks.
She too, Gareth realized, was clearly high on something, both of them giggling and weaving on their feet.
At least Robin didn’t appear to be hurt--or at least, not hurt as badly as Steve.
"What the hell did you two take?" Gareth demanded, looking between them as he quickly put his popcorn back off to the side.
"We didn't take anything, dad." Steve said bossily, rolling his eyes. He spoke in a voice so unlike himself that Gareth knew his own face was doing something crazy.
Not that he could stop it because what the hell.
"What my patriotic friend here means is that we don't know." Robin added, smacking a hand onto Steve’s shoulder.
(The entire sentence was slurred and sounded like she'd shoved candy in her mouth before she started talking.)
"You don't know?!” Gareth asked, taking in the way Steve flinched when Robin touched him. Added a mental note to check his cousin's shoulder too. “How do you not know?"
Gareth wasn't panicking, he wasn't, except he absolutely fucking was. Steve's dad was going to kill him, disown him, and throw the body out of his house--in that exact order.
Gareth’s parents wouldn’t take him in, not unless his mom felt she could use it to one up her sister in some way which meant that Gareth was going to have to sneak Steve in and out of the house like he was some--some puppy Gareth was trying to keep and--
"Did someone give you two something?" Eddie asked, interrupting Gareth’s spiraling.
"Give is a very strong word." Steve said with a snicker.
Robin nodded so much she looked like a bobble head. She leaned in, nearly falling into Gareth in the process. “In fact it’s not the word I’d use at all! I’d use…” She trailed off, screwing her eyes up in thought.
“Made us?” Steve suggested as Gareth finally gave in to his instincts and reached out to steady his cousin. “Forced us?”
“Socked it to us!” Robin added with a weird amount of glee, and the two of them once again collapsed into giggles.
Literally, forcing Gareth to try and steady them both.
Which meant Eddie was right--they’d been drugged. It made perfect sense-- Steve wasn’t the kind to experiment with drugs beyond weed. Had in fact, given a very long lecture about how he’d make Gareth go on runs with him if he ever found out Eddie had given him anything stronger than weed.
There was no way he’d change now, and especially not around a jobsite. Particularly one as busy as the mall.
"You can't tell anybody." Robin continued, eyes so wide they were more white than pupils. "But we got truth serumed!"
As if that made any fucking sense.
Gareth turned a half frantic, half disbelieving look to Eddie--whose own face scared him almost as badly as Steve's did.
He was hiding it, and doing a good job of doing so, but Eddie was the one person Gareth knew better than Steve.
Right now? Eddie Munson was furious.
Not mad, or upset, or even as pissed as he had been the time Tommy Hagan had thrown his drug box in the river.
He was enraged.
"Hey." He said, and the only thing more shocking than realizing Eddie was this mad was hearing him talk in a calming, almost playful voice. "Sounds like you two sailors had a pretty rough time. Why don't we go to the bathroom and get you both cleaned up? I bet you'll feel a little better."
It was clearly the right move, because both of them looked downright delighted.
"He thinks we're sailors!" Steve said, cupping a hand around his mouth and leaning to talk in Robin’s ear as if he was whispering. (He wasn’t.)
Robin’s grin grew impossibly wider, before Eddie stepped forward to help Gareth half guide half herd the two into the nearest bathroom.
"I know you." Robin said, squinting dramatically as Eddie opened the door with his regular flair, bellowing for anyone in the place to get out.
It was Steve's turn to nod enthusiastically. "That's Eddie, Robbie." He said.
"I'm honored King Steve knows such a humble peasant's name." Eddie bowed as Gareth finally got both Steve and Robin into the bathroom, trying to get them to sit on the floor before they fell on their asses.
Which just made a hurt expression appear on Steve's face. "’Course I do. You have really pretty hair."
It had the effect of making Eddie look like he’d been punched and Gareth had to quickly turn his bark of laughter into a cough.
"I bet it's soft.” Steve continued, as he pressed his back against the tiled wall and slowly slid down to the floor. “Gare, is it soft?"
"It's very soft." Gareth agreed, trying to wet a paper towel with shaking hands. Finally he gave up entirely, ripping the plaid sweater he had tied around his waist and shoving one of the sleeves into the sink.
“Oh my god.” Robin said abruptly, sitting up from her own slouched spot on the floor as if she’d suddenly been stricken sober. “It’s him! He’s your type!”
“What’s my type?” Steve turned to her, as Eddie leaned his back against the door to the bathroom, blocking anyone else from entering.
“It’s like--like Nancy! But boy Nancy.” Robin seemed to think this made a ton of sense, and given Steve’s immediate groan maybe it did to him, but Gareth was too freaked out to even begin to process what the hell they were on about.
Probably nothing, given they’d been drugged.
Eddie seemed to pick up on his general anxiety and poor attempts at shoving down his own freakout, because he gently called out Gareth’s name.
“I think it’s wet enough.” He added with a raised eyebrow. His eyes drifted purposefully to the sink and with a curse, Gareth snapped shut the water off.
His hands were still shaking.
“Give it to me.” Eddie said gently, moving to take the shirt from Gareth’s hands. “Here, swap me Gare, and guard the door.”
Gareth did, as Eddie knelt down to take Steve’s chin in one hand, and carefully began dapping his wounded face with the wet sleeve.
“May I ask what battles you two sailors have been involved in?” He said, continuing to sound like playful, fun Eddie and not like he was about to murder half the town (which, Gareth could tell by body language alone, is what Eddie actually felt like) “Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the villains who did this?"
“Robin melted into Steve, rubbing her face in his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe us.”
Eddie smiled his most charming smile, a full blown rouge grin he played up as he continued to wipe and dab at Steve’s wounds. “You’d be surprised at what I believe in, my fair lady.”
Steve tried to talk, but ended up hissing as he ran into Eddie’s fingers.
“Russians.” He managed to get out, when Eddie quickly took the sleeve away so he could talk. “We got kidnapped by fucking Russians. Also we kinda saw some shit and they’re after us. Possibly you now if they saw you with us.”
There was the briefest of pause as Steve and Robin stared at Eddie, as Eddie stared back.
Then Steve and Robin as one started howling with laughter, so hard that Robin’s head ended up in Steve’s lap with Steve’s own head resting on hers.
Eddie turned to give Gareth a pinched look. “Russians.” He said, still calm despite it all. “Right.”
Which had to be the fucking drugs speaking.
Gareth just took a deep breath as Eddie managed to gently prod Steve back into putting his chin in his hand, shaking his head ever so slightly.
He didn’t know who he was going to actually have to murder, but at least Eddie looked to be on board with acting as his backup.
#tw drugs#tw canon bodily injury#Steve Harrington#Robin Buckley#eddie munson#Gareth Emerson#Gareth and Steve as cousins#secret cousins#whose family had a falling out#Eddie is fuckin PISSED#he may be a drug dealer but he is a drug dealer with MORALS#how dare someone drug people in his town!#mind hes thinking Steve somehow took a hit for Robin and then they still got Robin anyways but ya know#Gareth is having a full bore anxiety meltdown#He just wants his older cousin to be okay : ( \
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InstaMorph
InstaMorph was not actually supposed to be released in the AppStores. The beta test phase was not even close to being completed. But somehow the app had ended up in the stores. And even though it was an insider tip, an active user community quickly developed. Very few users were probably aware that what the app did was not just digital…
The way it worked was simple: people used Instagram as normal. But the comments were exclusively visible to Instamorph users. And the comments changed what you saw in the posts. Digitally. But also in the real world!
Steven and Ronald were not at all happy about being photographed by a magazine photographer on their way to the opera. Ronald's father, the two of them, was already thinking about calling him to file a lawsuit for violation of personal rights. By that time, the picture of the two of them had long been online with the caption “Young opera fans on their way to a glamorous premiere”. This sealed their fate.
The 2 of dem r quite kawaii, but they look liek they have a sticc up their ass
yea, a lil looser wud b dope.
the 2 of dem lacc the rite cocky attitude. The tuxedo is dope, but u have 2 fill it out
send deez 2 bacc 2 school! they need 2 mor yrs of lyfe experience. And they shud get it @ the gym
whomst the hell goes 2 an opera premiere? a movie premier wud b much cooler!
Steven and Ronald got dizzy. “Bro, do you also have the feeling that we've overdone it in training?” Steven asked his buddy. He gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Dude, you know you look even better in a tuxedo when you've pumped up your chest and biceps!”
Somehow still far 2 clean!
wat kinda movie premier is dis supposed 2 b? looks totally lame
wdy think of the red carpet @ a boxing match?
lit idea! and deez 2 r such fighters!
lit muscles and dope tattoos. Tht wud b poggers!
Their tuxedos vanished into thin air. Their hairstyles screamed “boy from the slums”. School education? Manners? The two of them became full-on jocks from the boxing gym!
“That's it!” “Let the muscles play!” “Give me a killer smile!” “Come on, do a double bicep pose!” Steve and Ron knew the drill. The camera loved them. And they loved the camera. Sure, they needed to work well together. Their business as personal trainers and fitness influencers could only remain successful if they were not only present on their own channels. An appearance like this before a boxing match was important for their image. And that's why they walked the red carpet half naked at 10 degrees Celsius with nipples as hard as steel.
I find dem boring
u name it, interchangeable liek barbie's ken
what if they wer older?
damn, thats a lit idea! such lit muscle daddies
silver foxes made flesh
hey, muscle dilf! show meh ur magnificent cock!
Steve and Ron smiled at the photographers and struck a pose. Most of the youngsters could have been their sons. Although, if they were their sons, the first question would have been who the mother should have been. Shit, they'd never stuck their cocks in a wet cunt. They were both into concrete asses and steel hard cocks. And apart from that, they would have beaten the sissies to the gym on the edge of the red carpet as teenagers. Steve and Ron were icons in the fitness scene. The two had already made a fortune with fitness videos and nutritional supplements before the word 'influencer' had even been invented. The two were in high spirits at the opening of the 100th branch of their Boxing Gym chain. It was going to be a great party. And plenty of fresh meat begging to be fucked by them according to all the rules of the art. Such bodies in combination with so much experience in bed could only be offered by these two. And the boys stood in line at attention for that.
#male tf#muscle tf#reality change#inked man#ai image#age progression#jock tf#jockification#nerd to hunk#nerd to jock#smart to dumb
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There's an unconfirmed theory that the love potion Velvette and Valentino sells is his spit, and literally just the spit in his mouth is a doping aphrodisiac
Like ok here's something I've considered. Say you're a new Sinner in Hell. You meet him night ONE down there. You've got nowhere to stay. You're watching people be stabbed and robbed outside, but here in the studio, you're sitting with this Mr Valentino who you just met. It's obvious that he's fucking trouble but he's a much more welcoming option to the unhinged chaos outside (especially if you're a woman, being without shelter is WOOOF dangerous)
It really depends on the person, but technically, isn't "sleep with me and I'll give you a place to sleep for the night" like actually an incredibly lucky almost one sided deal in this context?
So Reader agrees. It's- It's just sex right? It isn't... THAT bad? But little do you know, even just kissing him can turn your mind to mush. He's got his tongue in your mouth and, he suddenly starts asking all these really intimate, personal questions. You've already been drinking, and now with his red hot aphrodisiac delivered straight into your mouth, you're basically hopped up on ecstasy. One minute you're talking with Angel, not sure where you're going to go, the next, you're in Valentino's lap, willingly letting him shove his tongue down your throat, drinking after him, taking shotguns of smoke from his cigarette while he asks you how many times you've had sex, what your favorite positions are, just... he'd have you in the palm of his hand.
There's an Angel Dust fanart comic about Val luring AD into the room where he has aphrodisiac burning like an incense and Angel is being drugged just standing in the room and I can totally see Valentino doing shit like this. He's just chilling with some of his girls and they're all sitting around basically making out and being horny and drinking and doing drugs, and Valentino is still making you fetch him drinks. At some point you're standing there and he sees you wobble a bit and he realizes you're getting the secondhand smoke and suddenly he's intimately curious how you look and sound when you're embarrassed and starts teasing you and becomes addicted to it
Valentino is a sadist. You want me to believe he'd see Reader there hot in the face and starting to sweat and suddenly nervously giggling at all of his flirtatious comments and filthy questions and he WOULDN'T start groping you up just to hear you squeal for him to stop? Please. And then once you're all loopy and easily manipulated, then he'll start laying on the charms, the compliments, the promises. He could treat you so well, baby, and all you have to do is just have a nice little... cuddle session with him once or twice or dozens of times :3c and he always gets you so fucked up first that, really, his offers just sound like the most fun in the world...
#yandere hellaverse#yandere hazbin hotel#valentino x reader#yandere x reader#yandere stuff#sinprompts
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Pretty Boy Swag
prompt: your big ass family comes to town and hosts a town-wide family reunion. after they meet your boyfriend for the first time, your proximity is criticized, and when you try to fall back, Eddie's swift to your side again. -> or when someone else calls you clingy, you try to fall back but your man doesn't want that.
pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Stranger Things
collection masterlist: Clingy Baby
word count: 6.2k+
note: AQPDO got me back on my Joe kick, Goddamnit
warnings: Eddie being the man we all want and deserve, kinda AU timeline (Eddie lives, Vecna still happened, and school is back in session? it confused me too, but fuck it we ball). shitty family members being judgmental. the fuck is this plot? idk her. there's insecurity, drama, anxiety, obviously some angst, but mostly hurt / comfort. drug use (it's Eddie, c'mon), kinda abrupt ending, author's lowkey a pyromaniac and advises you do not play with fire or gasoline.
The summer was soon to end, leaving behind a muggy, thick heat that broke several air conditioning units around town from power usage. Windows were left wide open for cross breezes, doors, too; and fans were cranked up high. There was a rather nasty storm on the way in, but luckily, with it, came the usual drop in temperature - just in time for the coming week's activities. The last week of summer before the dreaded school year began anew, but luckily, it was officially senior year.
Eddie jogged up the rickety porch stairs and opened the unlocked screen door that was close to rusting off its hinges; the front door open and an oscillating fan turned on to blow a breeze at Ed.
The door swung open without effort, banging loudly and making Wayne glance up, "Hey, kid."
"Hey, Unc."
"There's a sandwich in the fridge, if you're hungry," Wayne cleared his throat, smoking a cigarette at the tiny coffee table covered in stacks of bills.
"Thanks," Eddie mumbled. "Here," he dropped a small wad of bills to the table.
"The hell's this?" Wayne scoffed, glaring up at the kid - who shrugged.
"Should be enough for utilities and water, maybe a bit for groceries," Eddie answered, grabbing a beer from the fridge and sighing with a grunt as he dropped into the arm chair.
"You selling dope again?"
"It's consistent money."
"You know I don't like that shit, kid."
"Which is why you don't see it - you just get the cash."
Wayne scoffed in amusement and smirked, nodding while releasing a deep sigh. "All right, uh, thanks, kid. I appreciate this."
Eddie nodded, brows furrowing as his mind whirled from his excursion in town; musing, "Something's gotta be in the air."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm. Tell you what, people are... Really in the market to buy this week. Everywhere I went was so crowded - I couldn't even get Goddamn cigarettes - "
"Watch your mouth, boy," Wayne reprimanded automatically. While he was all too used to Eddie's foul mouth, he still didn't like him using the Lord's name in vain. "It's all that, uh, anticipation," Wayne shrugged, dividing a few cash bills to an envelope, "got people all excited."
"Anticipation about what?"
"For the L/N Reunion."
"The what?"
Wayne looked up, offering a stale look, "L/N? Your girlfriend's family?"
Eddie sounded exasperated, "I know that - I'm asking what the hell you're talking about?"
"The L/N family, they've lived in these parts for generations. So, when they have these, like, uh, family reunions, it's an entire town-wide event. Everyone tries to go. I guess you must've been... Oh..." He shrugged, "8 or so last time they were all here. Whole place gets energized, they all participate; you know, it's a big cookout and shit."
"Right."
"It's usually a good time," Wayne assured, taking another drag. "And when it's not, it's because it's a really good time. They use the field out back behind Sullivan's old place?"
"No shit," Eddie chuckled, taking a slug.
"Uh-huh," Wayne hummed, the cig bobbing; ash dropping to dust the bills. "They get a bunch of tents and shit; catering, too - it's like a big carnival. Heard some might drive some caravan in." Eddie was briefly reminded of his adventures in the mobile home with Steve Harrington and Company, yet there was no time to dwell because Wayne was questioning, "Your girl didn't say anything to you 'bout this?"
Eddie's head slowly shook, "No, but she's comin' over tonight."
"I got work."
"I know."
Wayne chuckled, "Which reminds me, I grabbed you a box of condoms."
"Oh, Unc, no!" Eddie begged with a groan.
"You're too young for a baby, Eddie!"
"Doesn't mean buy me condoms, old man!"
"You could just say thank you!"
"I'm not thanking you for condoms!"
The screen door hit the frame in a startling bang, the thin metal slipping from your shocked grip. You stepped into the trailer home, giggling, "Whaaaat the hell did I just walk in on?"
"Oh, hi, baby," Eddie greeted in a grumble; one hand wiping his face, trying to hide his embarrassment, "so glad you heard that!"
"Hey, honey," Wayne followed, you stepping inside and depositing your usual purse by the door.
"Everyone okay?" You asked teasingly.
"Yeah, Eddie's bein' dramatic again," Wayne spoke casually. "Hey, I, uh, I heard about the Reunion. That's gotta be real excitin', 'uh?"
"Oh, God," you groaned lightly, Eddie straightening himself up to invite you onto his lap. "Honestly, Unc? I was hoping this might be the one place in town I could escape from talking about that."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't - "
"No, no, I only mean, it's been nonstop in my family," you pouted. "Everything's gotta be perfect, so there's this, like, palpable tension, which makes it a madhouse, you know, 'cause everyone's coming into town. It's peaceful here."
"They all stayin' at yours?" Eddie asked softly, acutely aware and in-tune with your tangible anxiety; deflating himself and his energy to better absorb yours.
"Yeah," you pouted.
"All of them?"
"Until the festivities kick off, then most are gonna camp."
Wayne frowned, "When was the last time you saw 'em all?"
You breathed deeply, mulling his words while Eddie took a swig of beer; fingers flexing to pet where he held your hip. "Years ago," you answered, "and while it's really nice to spend time with them all, it's just..." You trailed off, frowning.
"A li'l much?" Wayne supplied.
"In the simplest terms, oh yeah," you sighed deeply. "I'm really grateful to still have time with them, don't get me wrong, but Christ Alive. There's four people in my room, we have two cousins in the attic, there's an Auntie in my parent's room, another couple in the basement - it's an absolute mad house!"
Wayne nodded with sympathy, seeing the way you pouted and dropped into Eddie's chest under his chin. His brows instantly crinkled, collecting you closer into his chest in comfort; keeping you curled across his lap. Wayne glanced at the wad of bills Eddie had contributed and sighed, gathering up both paper and cash bills. As he cleaned up around him, Wayne spoke, "You can, uh, stay here, if you wanna."
"Huh?" You gaped, looking at Wayne in earnest shock. "No, no, no, it's not - I just meant to complain to get it off my chest, you know? I wasn't fishing for - "
"I know, honey, but I can physically feel your stress from here," he chuckled. "Tell you what, if you agree to make dinner, you can crash here for the week."
With a grin, you nodded, "Your bodies might go into shock, I'm gonna force y'all to eat vegetables."
Both men laughed in amusement, the tension melting as you were obviously relieved by the fact that you wouldn't have to stay at your family home for the duration of the Reunion. It loosened you up, the trio happy to indulge in witty, harmless banter before Wayne was filing the bills in a mucked-up manilla folder. He stood to get ready for work, leaving you and Eddie in the armchair.
"Can I ask a favor?" You whispered into his neck, slowly pressing open, languid kisses to the sensitive skin.
"Anything you want, baby."
"I should go pack an overnight bag."
"Want me to come, too?"
"No, no, I was gonna ask you to go grab us dinner while I was gone," you mused, smirking gently; his head tilting back and sighing through his nose. "Oh, don't - "
"No, no, baby, it's fine," he scoffed, "we've just been dating 4 years and I haven't met your family. Like the whole family."
You scoffed, "So?"
"Do you not, you know, like, want me to?"
"I think it's more really not wanting you to meet them, Eddie - it's different."
You tried to stand, but his arms were like vices; keeping you in place and speaking softly, "Baby, how? Don't you think it's time? Nothing - not even your family - is gonna make me love you less. Plus, like, isn't the whole town invited to this Reunion?"
"I mean..."
"Did you think we were gonna avoid each other the whole week?"
"I was kinda hoping we wouldn't even go, if I'm honest," you admitted sadly, "but I'm a really good girlfriend, so we're going 'cause I know who would be most inclined to buy whatever product you might have left."
"Wow, you're gonna bring me new customers? Your family, too, huh?"
"Who said anything about family?" You smirked.
"Baby," Eddie sighed, pinning you with the beginnings of his puppy dog eyes, "if you're embarrassed, you can just say that - "
"Of what? Of you?"
"Well, yeah, or of us."
"Eddie, that's the farthest thing from the truth!" Guilt sounded through your words, "Baby, I love you - but I know my family and I don't want them to, like, infect you."
"Not possible," he hummed, bringing you in close to press a kiss to your lips in reassurance.
Not wanting to dwell, you quickly changed the subject and whispered against his lips, "Will you please go pick up a pizza from Reggie's?"
Eddie's head reared back slightly, his expression morphing into confusion, "Reggie doesn't sell pizza, baby."
"He does for me, I'll call it in if you can pick it up. It's just in the opposite direction of my house."
"Baby gets what baby wants."
You scoffed a laugh, kissing him again and standing finally, offering your hand to him; helping yank Ed from his seat just as Wayne was reappearing. After calling Reggie, you all left at the same time, shuffling out into the parking lot together to bid Wayne goodbye; waving as he drove off. Then, Eddie swiftly huddled you into the backdoors of his van; holding your legs around his hips.
Shocked laughter racked your lungs, holding onto his shoulders as he nuzzled directly into your neck and balanced your weight in his arms. He breathed in deeply, you petting the back of his head, both feeling yourselves recharge; usually trying to refrain from these grand gestures of PDA in front of Wayne. "Missed you today," Eddie mumbled, lips tickling your ear, causing you to slightly squirm.
"We were apart all of, what? 4 hours?" You mused quietly with a grin.
"Too long," he whined.
"I know, pretty boy. Which is why we have to hurry up - the faster you go get dinner and I go home, the faster we can come back here. I'm thinking... Blunts and movies tonight?"
Ed lifted up, your chest feeling cold from his retracted heat; but his face was calculating, then agreeing, "Yeah, we gotta go, let's go, c'mon, let's go, let's go, let's go!"
Max could hear your laughter from where she pet her neighbor's dog.
Honestly? The only thing missing from the Reunion were actual carnival game prizes - like stuffed animals, goldfish, novelty gags, sports team embroidered plush memorabilia.
There were caravans of RV's - both rented and owned - lined up with cars of all shapes, sizes, colors, and passenger capacity; Christmas lights strung up around them like spiderwebs. Patio tables were erected to host intimate groups of people while banquet tables were used to boast an array of foods and drinks. Different speakers were set out and connected, playing the same soundtracks - while others at other distances played different genres. The soft ground from previous rain had hardened from the amount of feet (of all sizes) stomping over the mud and grass. Solo cups dotted the area like stars splatter the sky.
Oh! There was also a clown missing! The Reunion did not hire a clown - unless you count Uncle David...
"You scared yet?" You asked, sitting in the open passenger seat of Eddie's van, the back doors wide open to host the attending party members. Eddie was leaning at the hinges beside you, facing the back of the van, quickly dropping his gaze onto you and straightening up.
Eddie shifted subtly, side-stepping so he stood in front of you for a semi-private conversation. "Oh, please, think I'm the scariest guy 'round these parts. Your family's harmless."
"Oh, uh-huh," you mused, scoffing a small chuckle before taking a lazy pull of your red solo cup; matching those scattered in the field. Don't worry, though, 'cause your cousins were Litter Bugs and would pick up any and everything they come across when clean-up commenced. It was a rule of the Reunion - leave the area better than you found it.
"You good, baby?" Eddie asked softly, trying to keep his voice quiet; which was easy, since Robin and Steve were cracking boisterous jokes to the group.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah," you nodded, eyes glazed as you peered over Eddie's shoulder to survey the absolute (controlled) chaos your family entertained.
"Yeah, 'cause that's so convincing."
You sighed and leaned forward some; legs hooking around Eddie's and encouraging him forward so your chin rested on his sternum. "I promise, I'm okay," you whispered with a smile, "just a little overwhelmed."
He nodded, petting a loose strand of hair off your face. "You've not really seen your family much," he noted, "been hiding here with us the whole time."
"I'll... Get around to it."
"When?"
"Eddie," you sighed, pulling back to still look up at him - curse his gangly frame.
"C'mon, baby," he pouted, "come introduce me to your family. Huh? I think it's time, I'm excited."
You felt frozen for a moment before Dustin's voice was whining, "When's dinner? Whole field smells like good eats."
Eddie pinned you with a small 'told you so' look, chuckling as you groaned and nudged him back a little to slide from your seat. "All right," you announced to the group, "c'mon, let's go mix and mingle. Play nice and they'll feed you."
You didn't even hear the small chorus of chuckles as your ears blasted the hammering sound of your nervous heartbeat. You cleared your throat as the group grabbed their things, Steve and Eddie closing the van doors before congregating together to begin stalking across the mud. With the red solo cup in one hand, your other was snatched swiftly by Eddie - tugging playfully to jolt you into his side and secure his arm around your shoulders.
You could see Hopper and Uncle David laughing almost to the point of tears; both with beers in hand, several others dotting around them to share in mirth. Wayne was tearing into a bacon cheese burger with an ice cold beer and a table full of "uncles" - or family friends you just called "uncle". Joyce Byers was playing corn hole with that PI the Hollands hired, Murray Bauman, to find their daughter, Barbra, years ago when Will Byers first went missing, too. They were being cheered on by a sea of cousins - all heavily intoxicated and keeping score on a chalkboard. The Wheelers were seen playing a few table games; Holly happy to play with your aunt's Australian Shepard, Auggie, while her parents were distracted. The Sinclairs were dancing together under the strung Christmas lights, Erica accepting a gargantuan size cotton candy to share with a few friends. Well, honestly, with the way she was eyeing the sugary treat, you wouldn't be surprised if she inhaled it all by herself.
"Hey now, baby girl! Ova here!" You heard, glancing over automatically just to catch sight of your father waving you over to where he and his siblings stood with a few cousins, your mother, and a couple siblings.
"Baby," you mumbled, squeezing his hand. He instantly parted from Steve and followed you; both missing the looks exchanged amongst your family, a few perking their brows swiftly and others even rolling their eyes. "Hey, guys," you greeted kindly when you arrived around the patio table.
"There she is!"
You were happily received by your loved ones, exchanging pleasantries before automatically returning to Eddie's side. "Um, hey, guys, can I introduce you to my boyfriend, Eddie?" You made the proper introductions, holding his arm as he offered his dominant hand to shake as he greeted the family members he had begged you to meet.
"Got you this," your father purred, handing you a full plate of ribs and all accompanying fixings.
"And this, for Eddie," your mother handed you his plate carefully. "You know Cooper's cookin' goes first."
"Thank you, guys," your boyfriend appeared as if out of thin air over your shoulder, leaning in to peck your mother's cheek. He straightened up to shake your father's hand and take both plates from you as your sister stood from her seat.
"Here," she waved, letting you take her spot because it was the only place beside an open seat so you and Ed could sit together.
Darlene, some distant cousin, daughter of your Aunt Rebecca, scoffed, "What? You two have to sit right next to each other?"
You pulled a face, "Girl."
"It's no biggie," your sister instantly defended, "and it's Eddie's first time here, can't let him sit alone."
"Mhm," Darlene snickered, your hand subtly latching onto Eddie's thigh to give a comforting squeeze. He dropped a quick wink, leaning over to take a fork full of baked beans from your plate - humming obnoxiously when he ate it.
Before you knew it, a couple hours had passed, the sun setting, and the bonfire was being structured. In fact, your name had been hollered for aid, looking to Eddie out of habit. He smirked at you, petting the hand he held with his thumb, nodding slightly - not in permission, but in assurance. Before either could say something, your Aunt Rebecca mused (but really scolded), "Oh, Jesus Christ, you two! You're not gonna fall apart if you're not together 20 seconds, he'll be fine to hang while you get the fire goin', girl. Go!"
You bristled at her tone, but only minimally rolled your eyes at Eddie before pecking his lips as you stood from the chair you had been offered. "Be back, baby," you whispered, and as you straightened up, raised your voice, "don't listen to a single thing they say and don't let them bully you!"
Laughing over jeers, you offered your middle finger, slapped your hand into Cousin Allison's, then skipped towards the wooden teepee pyre. Turns out, all "adults" were too intoxicated to deal with the bonfire and your cousins all too nervous to use gasoline - hence why they needed help. So, you playfully pushed them back and fixed the structure; stuffed kindling in ideal places, sprinkled a responsible amount of gasoline, and with a piece of old newspaper, used a lighter to ignite the flame. Then, when it caught, you carefully used it to catch along the gas-soaked kindling. Once that initial contact was made, you dropped the paper and stepped back because, a moment later, the entire pyre caught flame with a small but defining whooshing sound.
The cousins cheered you on, amusement shared as Cousin Maxwell handed you a fresh solo cup as a reward. You blew past the praise, knowing they were just being dramatic for humor's sake; making your way back towards the group you had left - intent on making s'mores with Eddie. Except, Aunt Rebecca stood to meet you, just enough of a distance away that her words weren't overheard.
"So," she smiled, "he seems real nice."
"Hmm?" You took a sip of your drink.
"Your boyfriend."
"Oh," you nodded, "yeah, no, he's arguably the nicest guy I know."
"Even more than that Harrington fella?" She asked, eyeing your friend and twiddling her fingers flirtatiously. Steve smirked and waved back.
"Uh-huh. C'mon, Auntie," you nudged her, "your husband's right over there."
"He's fine," she scoffed.
"Well, all right - "
"Hang on," she halted you from leaving, seizing your arm. "I was just wondering, you know, how nice a boy can be with all them tattoos? I mean, only delinquents defile themselves like that."
You scoffed, "I seriously doubt inking your skin is an indication of kindness in a person - but that's a good one."
Rebecca halted your departure again by asking, "Well, how healthy do you think this is?"
"Be more specific, Auntie."
Her eyes rolled, "Your relationship, girl, pay attention."
You chose not to engage fully, just sighing, "It's the healthiest relationship I've ever known - not much thanks to you, since nobody in this family would know a healthy, functional relationship if it punched them in the face."
With a fake smile, you pulled your arm from her grip and only managed two steps before she was sneering, "You sure it's healthy the way you cling to him?"
"What was that?" You asked, slowly turning to face her.
"You're so clingy, it's actually concerning! David, Kyle, Bethany, Darlene, Casey, and Tom all agree with me, and not to mention, your mother told us that's normal behavior for you two - which is just a red flag, sweetie. You're lucky, though, 'cause when I was your age, my mama would've slapped me silly if I hung all over my boyfriend like that in front of her. You know it's distasteful, right, honey? Men don't like that - they don't want girls who are desperate for love that they claw onto them."
"I'm not clawing - "
"Whatever you're doing, sweetie," she mocked, "it's not a good look. I can smell your desperation - you do know, there's gonna be more boys later. This Eddie guy? He's not your end all, be all. First loves are fun, sure, but this is where you make your mistakes - so, take notes and then try not to do the same shit with your next man. Okay, pumpkin?" She patted your upper arm as if a child winning a sports participation trophy. "The kid is nice and all, but he's not gonna last, honey. Women in our family are prizes, you see, so, it takes a real stud to earn us - not some long-haired, tattooed punk. Don't embarrass this family anymore than you already have by thinking this is a sustainable relationship."
You slapped her hand away and stepped into her space, snarling, "You wanna try that again?"
Eddie glanced over and saw the two of you; needing a double take when he realized how tense the exchange looked. "Shit," he whispered, sitting up in attention while nudging Steve.
"Huh?" Eddie pointed, Steve turned, and after a beat, repeated, "Shit."
Rebecca stuttered and tried to explain, "I-I-I'm just saying - "
"Sounds like you're making pretty snap judgements about the man I love - based on what? His fucking appearance? Do you fucking hear yourself? Like, you're reprimanding me for dating when you're not even my parent. You need to take several steps back into your lane."
"I'm not reprimanding you for dating! Just for... For..."
"For dating Eddie?"
"For being so dangerously desperate!" She snapped. "Jesus, a kid like that? You don't have to cling too hard, he's lucky to just breathe your air! So, maybe loosen the reins, babe, it's not a good look to keep a man so... Beneath you so close and so tight."
Eddie launched from his chair in time to hear you laugh in response. "Yeah? Yeah? This comin' from the woman whose husband cheats on her more than he remembers their anniversary or her birthday? Is that what you mean by desperate?" You narrowed your eyes, "You're right - that is a real bad look. I mean, I've had years to watch you and decide, that's not what love is. That's not respect. Wow. Being desperate for love really is embarrassing, isn't it? Thanks for the advice, Auntie, but don't worry - first place for worst relationship is still steadfast yours. I mean, Eddie and I are actually compatible, you know? He and I actually like one another, mutually love another. Now, I know you're not used to that, so I guess I can excuse you mistaking 'love' for 'desperation' and being 'clingy' - "
"Baby, hey, hey, hey," Eddie caught you around the waist and pulled you back a few steps. "All good, it's all good - don't gotta argue, c'mon. Walk away, just walk away, c'mon, come with me." You scoffed in amusement while Rebecca looked close to tears, Eddie directing you in the opposite direction to force space. "What the hell was all that?" He asked in worry, arm slung around your neck as he checked over your shoulders to make sure you weren't being followed.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"Didn't seem like it. C'mon, baby, what happened? Talk to me."
"When my family drinks, you know, they can just get a little mouthy."
"What'd she say?"
Insecurity exploded in your chest, freezing your tongue and heart, pumping icy shards through your body. You didn't want to worry nor upset Eddie by being honest, so you sighed, "Oh, just some dumb shit. She honestly sounded jealous... And bitter..."
"Ah, Uncle Paulie isn't giving it to her, huh?" He teased and you laughed, if only to not tip him off to the brewing storm of emotions threatening to take over.
"Guess not. Hey, uh," you glanced around, "you wanna get outta here?"
"What?" Eddie chuckled, "Baby, no, nah, c'mon, night's just starting. Fire's finally lit, and look," he pointed, "Dustin's challenging Mike to corn hole. And... Is that...?"
"Max and Lucas playing... Pong?"
"Looks like," Eddie smirked. "Think we're bad influences, baby."
"They're not even drinking - how much of an influence can we really be? Do they even pay attention, learn from us?" You teased, arms crossing across your chest in a light hold as Eddie tugged you a fraction closer to place a kiss on your temple. "Well, can we go back to the van and smoke? I left your hoodie in there and it's getting kinda chilly."
"Oh, you left it, huh?"
"Since I was the last in it? Yep."
Eddie chuckled and kept you under his arm all the way to his van, opening the backdoors and letting you climb in first. He shut the doors after himself and instantly rocked onto his back; you mimicking his position.
You both just stared at the ceiling for a moment; breathing together; existing as one. Then his head turned, yours did the same, meeting each other's eyes and without a single word exchanged, let your lips spread in matching smiles. Like two charged magnets, you both leaned in at the same time to let your lips meet in a sloppy meshing; playful, heated, and quick-tempo'd.
When Eddie pulled back, he whispered, "I love you."
After returning the sentiment, you both sat up to rest against the metal van walls and Eddie reached over to snag the wee box he used to store (some) of his drugs in. You breathed a sigh of relief while watching him, engaged in a new and distracting conversation - grateful he seemingly forgot about Aunt Rebecca's bullshit already.
Yet those words seemed to haunt you.
It's been about two weeks since the Reunion and you felt as if you were slowly losing whatever was left of your mind. School had officially started and with all your AP classes, you were already juggling several assignments.
Everywhere you went, everything you did - you second guessed the amount of energy, effort, and diligence you put forth into everything! School! Friends! Family! And you know who suffered the most? Eddie - of course he did! He was closest to you, of course he was on the frontlines; enduring some kind of silent attack.
You didn't know what to do - so, you did nothing! You avoided Eddie because you were afraid of being ridiculed like a bug under a microscope in biology class. It seemed reasonable; not wanting to dig a deeper grave, not wanting to give further room for judgmental assholes to feel comfortable enough to voice their opinions. It drove you insane, living in silence, in this empty space; going from joined at the hip to severed Siamese Twins.
"Hey," your mother perked up when you came through the front door, "what're you doing home?"
"Uh, I live here?"
She sat up from her lounging position, "No, I meant, it's Thursday - isn't Thursday date night with Eddie? You didn't go last week."
"Oh, uh, no, not this week, Ma, I've got this crazy essay I'm swamped with."
"Hm," she nodded slowly.
"What?"
"Hmm? No, no, nothing, it's nothing," she waved you off, and just before you could take a step, she continued, "it's just - last week, you said you had some big test to study for. And now you're blowing him off for an essay? Honey, school just started, you shouldn't be this stressed and upset so soon."
"What can I say, Ma? I'm not blowing him off, I'm focusing on school. You know, the thing you love yelling at me to do?"
"I'm happy you're buckled down, sweetie, I'm just not used to you being here so often. You know? Since you started dating Eddie, I feel like you're only really home some weekdays, and sometimes, I don't even see you! Now, you've been home and I'm just worried something might be, I don't know, wrong."
"The only thing wrong, Ma, is the amount of work I have to do."
She sighed and nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile; finally allowing you to make your escape. First, you stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and bag of trail mix, then, you made your way to your room; throwing your windows open, turning your stereo on a low volume, settling at your desk, and rolling a joint - but setting it aside for now. You unpacked your supplies, cracked your knuckles, and got to work handwriting ten pages on The Lord of the Flies.
There came a knock at your door, eyes cutting to your clock and noting you'd been working about an hour. Waving smoke from the freshly lit joint away your face, you plucked it from your lips, inhaled sharply, and called, "C'min!"
Eddie slipped in your room.
"What're you doing here?" You asked in shock, tilting your head back when he stood over you and accepting his kiss. The ends of his hair tickled your face from where he dangled himself over you.
"It's date night."
"Yeah, but I told you I had work, baby," you pouted at him, watching him set the paper bag he brought in front of you and taking the joint from your stalled hand.
"Mhm," he agreed while taking his pull, holding smoke in his lungs and still speaking, "which is why I brought it to you."
"Oh, yeah?" You chuckled, opening the bag and revealing your usual burger and fries order. "Eddie - "
"Eh?" He grinned, producing a milkshake from behind his back, "Ta-daaaa!"
"Oh, a man after my own heart!" You laughed, "You're literally perfect - thank you. This is really sweet."
He smirked and sat in the plush chair you left beside your desk just for him. "All right," he reached out to pick up the essay prompt as you ate a fry, "let's see here, uh... Lord of the Flies?"
"Yeah, it's about - "
"No, no, I know," he nodded, "I read it."
"You did?"
"Why do you sound so surprised?"
"I thought you didn't read anything except your D&D manual and Hard Rock Magazine?"
"Oh, ha-ha, don't forget Playboy," he mocked, you smirking. "All right, well, let's get crackin'."
"What?" You asked, watching him toss aside the paper prompt and pick up the novel.
"I'm helping you," he shrugged like it was common knowledge.
"You? You're gonna help me write this essay?" You laughed, handing him the half-eaten fry - which he accepted into his mouth without hesitation.
"Why is that funny?"
"You don't even do your own homework, baby!"
"Yeah, well, figured I'd help if it'll get done faster, you've been acting real funny."
"How?"
Eddie pinned you with a harsh look, "You've been distant."
You froze, knowing you're caught, but still responded, "Uh, no?"
"Uh, yes? Since the Reunion, I've barely seen you. And even when I do, it's at school. You don't come over, you don't invite me over, you canceled our date last week, tried to today, too. Baby, look, if something's wrong, you gotta tell me 'cause I can't fix shit if I don't know what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong - "
"Try again."
"Eddie."
"Are you serious right now?" He asked, his voice no longer light and lithe, playful nor silly. "You might have yourself convinced, princess, but I know you better than that. Something's up, something's wrong. Talk to me, please."
"Why does something have to be wrong? Why can't I just be, like, tired or stressed? Or both?" You avoided his eyes, taking the joint from him.
"If you really want me to believe that, answer when you started smoking with homework?" This made you pause, shrugging in embarrassment. Eddie scoffed gently, "Lemme guess? You're just stressed?"
"It's not a lie!"
"But you're not telling me the full truth!" He leaned forward in his seat, reaching for your hand, frowning deeply. "Baby, I just want to help you. Since the Reunion, you've been distant, and I think it's to do with whatever your aunt said."
Tears filled your eyes, mutely taking another long inhale; gently ashing the joint in the tray on your desk hosting several stubbed-out filters. Swallowing the saliva that had pooled in your mouth harshly, you coughed gently upon exhaling the smoke; tears pooling and slowly cascading down your cheeks. Eddie sat closer in worry - literally sitting in a balancing act on the edge of his seat.
"You're right," you squeaked, unable to look at him; fingers beginning to shake. "Y-You're right, and I'm sorry, I just - I didn't know what to do, how to feel - "
"That's why you gotta talk to me, baby, so we can figure shit out together. Right? I help you, you help me," he spoke gently, reaching out to caress the back of your head. He sighed, standing, ushering, "C'mere, c'mon, stand up for me. C'mere."
He lead you to your bed, letting you sit as he toed out of his shoes before joining you. He settled on his back and pulled you in tight to his side; your arms like a vice around his waist, resting on his chest that was dampening from your tears. He rubbed your back and shoulders, up to your head, down to your waist and hip. Eddie spoke softly, encouraging you to talk when ready.
"She scolded me, I guess," you whispered, "because according to her, several other family members think I'm too clingy."
"She said what!?"
"Eddie," you groaned, his voice loud under your ear.
"Sorry, sorry - I just - she said you were too clingy? What? Seriously? Like - Like with me?"
"Yeah. Said it wasn't a good look," you admitted, and then, Eddie just remained silent as you poured your heart out and admitted all that was said. It felt like a never ending cycle; confessing that you loved Eddie so effortlessly, you didn't think you were loving him 'wrong', but your Aunt Rebecca's words made you second guess your own emotions.
And it honestly angered Eddie. No, not (only) about you being upset - but the reason for you being upset. He wished he knew the night it happened, remembering hearing your response to Rebecca, understanding your words now. He wished he knew, he would've had a word or two for your aunt; angry that this woman successfully made you doubt yourself. Doubt the way you love Eddie.
"Hey," Eddie whispered, hand on your jaw to gently encourage your head up so your eyes met his. "Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Pull away from me. Try to change, doubt yourself, do different. Baby, I love you - and no, you're not fucking clingy. And even if you are, I love it because I love you, and that means loving all of you, exactly the way you are. Fuck your aunt, fuck anyone who had something to say, their jealousy and bitterness and ineptitude are their problem, not ours. And anyone who makes it our issue can get bent." You were honestly shocked into silence, just staring up at Eddie in a daze of wonder. "What?" He asked.
"I'm just processing you using 'ineptitude' correctly," you teased in a whisper.
"Oh, you little - " He laughed, rolling onto you; fingers digging into your flesh and wiggling. Your laughter was loud and genuine, Eddie grinning in amusement before just staring down at you; gently petting hair off your forehead. "Listen to me. Hey? You listenin'?"
"Yes, Eddie," you chuckled.
"Don't ever pull away from me," he told you sternly. "I need you close to me, always. I don't care what anyone ever thinks or says - you're not a bother, not to me, never to me, so, please, for my sake, stay close. I'll fuckin' fall apart without you."
Overwhelmed by emotion, his sweet words, and how they instantly settled your anxiety, you didn't respond verbally. Your hand shot up to hook around the back of his neck and pull him down - but it's not like he resisted. Eddie let his mouth descend onto yours in a heated display of passion, his hips involuntarily rolling forward to roll his hips so his bulge ground into your clothed cunt. His tongue was hot, wet, sliding against yours in a raunchy pace that made your head spin until you were dizzy.
And in exactly 436 days, Aunt Rebecca, Cousin Darlene, and any other outspoken family members sat at home, bitter, while the rest of you (and the town) celebrated yours and Eddie's union of Holy Matrimony.
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