#so it’s not an out of the blue reference but it is kinda funny

[lichqueenlibrarian]

[ghosted-jazz]

Cringetober Day 2: Tsundere

Gotta love a guy who has all the powers in the world, but can't admit he actually likes hanging out with his goofball friends. The most platonic of tsunderes.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i'm the first to admit i'm doing a bad job of not liveblogging, but i gotta be nogblogging

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

actor!bakugo and actress! yn part 2 part 1 here

you guysss i had this one in my drafts for so long and i didnt know how to write it to make it 'proper' enough so i hadda rewrite it like four, five times😔hope you enjoy tho <3!

also if you wanna know, the song i was making reference to was 'envolver' by annita. (i promise yall my music taste aint bad)

You’re both invited to a celebration party with your cast members—a small gathering at Kaminari's place to enjoy the success of the movie.

You hang out with Mina and the girls, while Katsuki begrudgingly stays with Kirishima and the guys.

No need to worry, though. He keeps you in view, carmine eyes tracing over your curves in the body-hugging blue dress he picked out, claiming that the color suited you. Crystal drop earrings shine under the dim lighting, and the black choker he gave you as a present is wrapped snugly around your neck.

Katsuki smiles as he fishes out his phone from his back pocket and shoots you a text.

kats 💕 come over here. miss ya

You down the last of your shandy, giggling at a joke Jirou made, until Mina suddenly gasps.

"What?" you ask, setting down your empty glass as you gesture to the bartender for a refill.

"Your lipstick is smudged, sis. Who's coming to the bathroom with me? Makeup touch-ups are needed right now." She stands up and pulls your hand, with Jirou and Ochako following suit. The other girls stay seated, promising to keep an eye on the drinks.

Katsuki watches the group of girls leave the room, a loud, chatting mess as they drunkenly stumble away.

Todoroki snaps his fingers in front of Katsuki's face. "Why are you looking at the girls?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

His mouth opens and closes, contemplating what to say.

"Jus' caught my eye, 's all," he mutters, sinking into the couch. Kirishima snorts, and Sero elbows him in the ribs to shut him up.

"What?" Bakugo asks, emptying the contents of his cup.

"Nothing, dude! Totally nothing," Kaminari replies, waving his hands sarcastically.

"Do you like Ochako?" Todoroki asks, eyeing the ash-blond. Katsuki makes a funny face, crinkling his eyes. "Hah? The hell did you say?"

Todoroki smiles a bit and shrugs. "It seemed like you were staring at her."

The table falls silent as the star actor contemplates his response. The guys all sit up straight, eagerly awaiting his reply.

"I don't like her," he finally says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Suspicious looks appear on each of their faces.

"Okay, so you wouldn't mind if I got with her?" Sero teases, standing up.

Bakugo grins. "Go 'head."

His phone lights up on the glass table, and all eyes immediately snap to the bright notification.

Mrs. Bakugo one min katsu. the girls and i are kinda busy. but like, nobodys supposed to see us thoo ykyk wanna meet somewhere private? ;)

Sero immediately snatches the phone from the table, his eyes wide. His fingers swipe to open the message, but a blocker comes up. "Face ID? Really, man?" he groans.

Katsuki shoots up, pushing Sero's face away as he snatches the phone back, holding it out of the raven-haired actor's reach.

"Ouu, Mistress Bakugo?" Kaminari laughs loudly, slapping his knee. Katsuki clicks his teeth and walks away from the boys, phone in hand.

Upon seeing his retreating form, they start laughing and calling out to him.

"Yo Bakubro, are you gonna wife her up?"

"Bakugo, my guy! Tell her I said hi!"

"Is he gonna collect his daily kisses?"

"There's a spare room two lefts after the guest bathroom!"

It’s no surprise when Bakugo rings you. The familiar sound of your ringtone causes Mina to pause mid-mascara application.

"Katsuki? Why is he calling you?" Jirou asks, holding up your phone. Shit. You shrug and take it from her, entering a bathroom stall for a bit of privacy.

"What is it?" you whisper into the speaker, hearing his harsh breathing.

"They saw yer message. Wanna know who ya are," he responds curtly. You still, quietly sorting out the thoughts in your mind.

"Okay... that's fine. But you know what this means, right?" you ask, your fingers drumming against your silver purse.

Katsuki is quiet on the other end of the line. He grunts, knowing what you meant: he won't be able to even look at you for the rest of the night. He mumbles a small "okay" and hangs up.

As your group of friends makes their way back to the buzzing party, your eyes can’t help but search for Katsuki.

And you find him, handsome as ever, shot in hand as he manspreads on the couch, eyes closed as he has a small conversation with some random blonde.

Your eyes zero in on her: chunky gold earrings, black dress, gold heels—real flashy. She’s a typical blonde, you think, trying to brush it off.

But she’s all over him, manicured fingers grazing his bicep as she cackles at some random, unfunny words coming out of his mouth.

"I thought this was a private event?" you ask Ochako, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. She shrugs, immediately following your gaze and spotting the girl. "I think she's one of those background characters, or something."

You can practically read the words coming out of her mouth. "oH kAtSuKi YoUrE sO fUnNy."

Who was she to even call him by his first name?

How dare she.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension ease away as you turn your focus back to the party. If that blonde thinks she can monopolize Katsuki’s attention, then she clearly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. But rather than stewing in frustration, you decide to make the most of the night.

The bartender places a fresh drink in front of you, but you push it aside. ���Something stronger,” you say with a smile, and he quickly swaps it out for a shot of the strongest liquor they’ve got.

The girls, noticing your shift in mood, exchange curious glances. Mina raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile already forming on her lips. “My dear yn, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Without answering, you down the shot in one swift motion, the liquid burning its way down your throat. You place the empty glass onto the bar and feel the warmth spread through your body. You look towards the DJ and stand up, walking toward him.

"Hey, buddy," you call, pretty sure that he can't hear you over all the music playing. You beckon him closer with a curl of your fingers and ask him to play one of your favorite songs.

Si tú me desea' y yo a ti también

Your girls join you on the dance floor as you start dancing. You can feel the eyes on you—some admiring, some envious—but there’s only one pair you care about. You glance back toward Katsuki, who’s still seated on the couch, his gaze fixed on you. The blonde from earlier is long forgotten as his eyes trail over your form, taking in the way you move to the beat.

Aprovéchame

Your hips sway in rhythmic movements as your girls whoop and holler behind you. The shot makes everything feel fuzzy, but you continue anyway. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink, but the alcohol gives you a boldness that has you dancing more provocatively, knowing exactly the effect it’s having on Katsuki.

Before you can fully bask in the moment, Mina suddenly appears beside you, a grin plastered on her face.

“Damn, girl! You’ve got some moves!” she shouts, moving behind you. And maybe you both thought it was cute, but damn, the sight of you and her dancing like that has Katsuki and Kirishima in shambles.

`Sé que lo hacemo' y tú vas a volver`

“You’re on fire tonight!” Ochako shouts over the music and you giggle. “Just having a little fun,” you reply, though your eyes keep darting back to Katsuki.

And sure enough, you notice him shift in his seat, his eyes darkening with an intensity that makes your heart race. He’s watching you like a predator who’s found his prey and you wouldnt have it any other way.

The girls are having the time of their lives, lost in the music, but you’ve got something else in mind. You dance closer to Katsuki, the distance between you shrinking with every step.

You can see the moment he decides he’s had enough, the possessiveness flaring up as he sets down his drink and rises to his feet.

`Tú me quieres perrear y yo quiero partirte`

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, he’s there, his hands on your waist as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body presses into yours, and for a moment, the world fades away. There’s only you, Katsuki, and the music’s bass that keeps your blurry mind in check.

“Ya really know how to make a guy restless,” he mutters in your ear, his voice low, and you smirk, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Maybe that was the plan.”

Your eyes look over to the blonde. She's still there, eyebrows pinched in confusion and anger, maybe?

But you’re not done playing.

Without breaking eye contact, you give his chest a gentle shove, urging him back toward the couch. Katsuki’s eyes widen for a split second, but then a knowing grin spreads across his face. He lets you push him down, his back hitting the cushions with a soft thud, and he sprawls out, his hands resting casually on the back of the couch as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

You stand in front of him for a moment, your body swaying to the music as you let the tension build. The beat thrums through your veins, making everything around you feel distant, unimportant. All that matters is the way Katsuki is looking at you—like he’s seconds away from dragging you down onto him.

But you get there first.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you straddle his lap, your knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. The proximity sends a thrill through you as you settle onto his thighs, your body pressing into his. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles as his hands find their way to your waist, gripping you firmly.

Katsuki’s eyes darken even more, his breath hitching as you lean in close, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “She gone yet?” you whisper, your voice dripping with mischief.

His grip tightens, and you feel the low growl rumbling in his chest. “You’re askin’ for it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and filled with promise.

You laugh softly, the sound lost in the thumping bass of the music. “Maybe I am. But first, answer the question.”

"'M not lookin for her, dollface. All my attention... 's on you." he whispers.

You place a kiss on his nose and then look up at her.

The blonde from earlier watches with wide eyes, her expression quickly morphing from confusion to disgust. She’s visibly fuming, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realizes she never stood a chance. You catch her glare, and it only fuels your satisfaction.

“Aw, you didn't know? He’s taken, love.” You feel the shattering of her heart because of your claim on him. You can hear the collective gasp from those around you, the gossip starting to spread like wildfire. But you don’t care.

You’ve made your point, and so has he.

The music pulses around you, but all you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, his breath on your neck, and the pounding of your heart that matches the beat of the song.

It’s only when you hear Jirou's loud “Yooo!” that you snap out of your trance, realizing just how much attention you’ve drawn. You can feel the blush creeping up your neck, but Katsuki just chuckles, pulling you closer. “Guess there’s no hiding it now, huh?” he mutters, nipping at your ear.

You shake your head, smiling despite the embarrassment. “Nope.”

The flash of a camera catches your eye, and you spot Sero standing nearby, phone in hand as he snaps a picture of the two of you. “This one’s going on the ‘gram!” he shouts, grinning like a fool.

Before you can protest, Katsuki smirks, leaning back against the couch as he pulls you against his chest. “Let ‘em see.”

The photo blows up within minutes, and the next day, it’s all anyone can talk about. Your social media is flooded with comments, memes, and edits of the moment you publicly claimed Katsuki Bakugo as your own.

And for once, he doesn’t mind.

Taglist (I love you guys so freakin much <3)

@cupkiki @the-random-kitten @atashiboba @your-mum3000 @h0ngh0ngh0ng @gentle-roxyboo @xxiamabookdragonxx @guitargirl2000 @crimsonrubie @yungrichbitch @jaywhat333 @lemonnightmare @maeririka @talkgirl30 @big-denki-energy @lovingjeankirstein @aalny4 @tonkatesuramen

[monstersflashlight]

idk if you want to make this a full on fic but I was just imagining trinket fairy reader with a dragon idk you wanna make it Platonic or not up to you, but I didn't imagine much only those two as pairings and how they might possibly bond

Sorry if it's really vague and not giving you much of an idea 😭

Love you and your writing ♥

Thank you! Means a lot. <3 Mmmmm I like your idea. I’m thinking of fairy and dragon with multiple forms, so in this piece they are in their more human-ish form, but the size difference is still big. Like he can be a basketball player kinda tall, and she can be like 30-40 cm shorter. Like BIG size difference, and lots of banter. I think It would be really fun to see them interact regarding his hoard. The idea of a trinket fairy taking all his things just to use them for gadgets and building new crazy stuff while driving him crazy, but not really bc he’s deeply in love with her… Peak storytelling. So yeah, that’s where my head is at with your idea, but make it spicy. Hope you like it!

Restaurant delight

Dragon x fairy fem!reader || teasing, banter, semi-public sex

You were having a dinner date, mandatory by his strict standards of what a relationship meant. You thought it was really funny how insistent he was about taking you out at least twice a month. He told you it was to keep the romance alive, and you didn’t mind, you liked to show off your big hunk of a dragon boyfriend.

“You need to stop taking things from my hoard,” he told you out of the blue as you were reaching for some garlic bread. You blinked slowly up at him, your wings twitching behind you.

“No.” You munched on some bread as he sputtered beside you.

“Wh-what? What do you mean no?” He looked confused and annoyed, a purple-ish blush creeping on his blue skin.

“What’s the point of having a dragon boyfriend if I can’t use your stuff to build cool gadgets?” Your logic was perfect. He had tons of stuff, you liked stuff. You took stuff, you build stuff. Easy, simple.

“I- You- No. They are my precious possessions,” he tried to argue.

“I took a plastic car.” You sent him an are you kidding me look. You didn’t want to be mean, but you also knew he really didn’t care that much about the things you took from his hoard. He had a ton of stuff, most of it he didn’t even know was there.

“It was shiny!” His exclamation made you want to giggle, but you referred, biting your tongue as you looked up at him. Dang, why was he so damn tall, you had to look up even when you were sitting down. Damn hot dragons and their incredible height.

“You didn’t know you had it until I took it,” you counterattacked.

“I- Please, stop.” His tone was sincere, but you also knew him too well. He wasn’t really trying to argue with you. Someone was horny and wanted some fun banter to get you riled up. He knew you always wanted harder and faster when he argued with you beforehand. It wasn’t the healthiest approach to your sex-life, but it was fun as fuck.

“Does it really bother you so much?” You asked, trying to sound sincere and innocent, not playing into his game. He loved to rile you up, but you loved to be a brat about it even more.

You knew it worked when he looked at you confused. “I- Yes?”

“Is that a question?” You kept munching on the bread, completely nonchalant about his alleged annoyance.

“No?” You bit down on the bread to keep from smiling at him. “Okay. Okay. I just… I like my hoard.” His statement was lost when his face got even more purple. He was embarrassed, and he looked so fucking adorable you wanted to coo at him.

“I like it, too. I’ll stop if it bothers you… Or we could make a deal.” Your flirty smile wasn’t lost on him, who looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes.

“What deal?” His big wings twitched behind him, a telltale sign that he was getting nervous, anticipation probably filling him.

You munched on some bread and waited patiently until he was drinking a bit of water before telling him: “You allow me to take stuff from your hoard and I suck your dick.” He choked on the water and started coughing loudly.

You patted his big back, “accidentally” touching the base of his wings, the area you knew perfectly well made him lose his mind when caressed. Your fingers lingered a bit there, as he regained control of his breathing. He shuddered at the contact.

He looked at you with fire in his eyes, you lowered your hand and rested it on his thigh. “I bet I could even do it here,” you murmured. You didn’t give him time to react before your hand was over his growing erection, making him squirm under your touch and flush heavily again. He was adorable.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered, his pulse picking up as you licked your lips looking straight at him. He shivered visibly and the hardness under your hand twitched.

“You like that? You like the idea of me sucking your dick in a restaurant’s bathroom, big guy?” You knew you hit a nerve when his wings fluttered, almost hitting the poor waitress as he walked pass your table. He apologized profusely as you squeezed his dick. He looked back at you angrily, but he didn’t stop you. His flushed skin was so bright you wanted to kiss him senseless, but you were already thinking in other stuff, spicier stuff.

You were about to open his fly to get some skin to skin contact when the waitress arrived with your food. Your hand never left his clothed dick, rubbing softly as you cheerfully talked to her. Your boyfriend was a stiff form next to you, his big hand resting over yours, but not stopping you.

You ate with one hand and left the other over his dick, absently stroking him as you kept the conversation flowing. “Act normal or people will realize,” you instructed. He looked around panicked. You giggled and kept telling him about your day, and what new gadget you created. When he whimpered, you decided it was time you made good on your deal. “Go to the bathroom,” you instructed. You took your hand away from his dick and smiled when he got up fast. There was a wet patch in his pants. He covered it with a hand, but not fast enough for your eyes. “I’ll see you there in a few.” You smirked at him as he almost ran to the bathroom.

You followed a few minutes later, slowly making your way to the restroom, checking there wasn’t anybody around before entering the man’s bathroom. He was pacing the tiny space when you opened the door. You pushed his big chest until he was sitting down on the toilet. You positioned yourself between his knees and fell to your kneed before him. He whimpered.

You took him out of his pants and slowly started mouthing him over his underwear, making a mess of it. Making a mess of him. His head was thrown back, and the precious shimmer of his scales was making you itch to touch him. You took him out of his underwear and went right for it. He wasn’t expecting it and let out a loud shriek when your tiny mouth tried to stretch around his tip. You both know there was no way his dick could fit inside your mouth, but you could be smart about it.

You played with his tip for a bit, but realizing you didn’t have that much time before someone thought you bailed without paying the check. You grabbed him with both hands and started a fast pace up and down, sucking the underside of his dick and making him whimper. He was looking at the ceiling when you asked: “So, do we have a deal?” He looked down at you, dick still against your lips, and groaned, his dick twitching. You stopped moving your hands when he didn’t answer.

“Yes. Yes. Whatever you want. Take whatever you like.” You smirked up at him as your wings fluttered behind you. Seeing him so gone was turning you on like crazy. You couldn’t wait to get him home and ride him.

You lowered your head and started a punishing pace with your hands as you latched into his tip and started licking and sucking and doing everything in your power to make him lose his mind. “Good boy,” you whispered against his flesh when he shuddered under you. He was so close you could feel the temperature around you rising, his dragon fire so close to the surface. “Come for me,” you ordered, your mouth a few millimeters away from your expecting mouth. He complied instantly. Shooting rope after rope of cum in your open mouth, some of it landing on your lips and making him groan softly.

You swallowed everything he gave you and rested your head against his thigh. “Oh fuck,” he muttered. You looked up in time to see a big black circle on the ceiling. He breathed fire and burned the fucking ceiling. You started laughing so hard that you fell on your ass in front of him. He looked so embarrassed and cute that you laughed harder. “Stop it,” he muttered, his face bright purple.

“Was it that good?” You teased.

He growled at you, without malice. “You know it was. You always are. Your tiny hands and your fucking mouth… Ugh, you drive me crazy.” He picked you up from the floor and devoured your mouth, groaning when he found his own taste there. “Go back out, I’ll wait for a bit.”

You sat down back to your table and smiled at the waitress, she definitely knew what you two did in the bathroom. You didn’t care. You would do it again in a heartbeat. There was nothing better than your boyfriend’s dick. He came back a bit later, still looking embarrassed as he asked for the check and urged you out the door before somebody discovered the big black burn in the bathroom’s ceiling. You laughed all the way out.

You were walking to your car when he told you: “You know I would have let you have all my hoard without any deals, right?” You smirked at him as you walked to the car, an extra movement to your hips that made him groan behind you.

“Yeah. I know. I just wanted to suck your dick.” His footsteps sounded loud against the pavement as he followed you, your wings fluttering again when he embraced you from behind, and turned you around, his hands landing on your ass and pulling you up so he could kiss you properly.

[galactic-rhea]

WDYM Anakin is Luke and Leia's dad

I dunno if this post will reach the Star Wars fandom but I hope it does because I'm sure you all will get a good laugh at me.

As of recent I have developed a good hiperfixation for Star Wars, the thing is I knew nothing. NOTHING about Star Wars besides the fact it had aliens and...a war...in space? And funny swords. And main character is Luke or something, I spent over 20 years ignoring anything about Star Wars and somehow missing most references out there.

And recently, literally less than a month ago I saw a gif and said to my partner "oh this guy this guy looks cool, this gif looks nice" and he said "Oh well, he's a good character." And it all developed into me watching Clone Wars, the animated series you know and...and I was kinda blown away, on my opinion the show IS GREAT. And I love every character and their interactions, I love how much they focus on side characters, and they all seem very well written. I got hiperfixated really fast and saw Anakin and I was like "Omg, babygirl. He's a blorbo now."

And because of the show, this was super unexpected, but somehow I also got, really got, into the ship with Padmé because omg, cool woman. Literal happy squeaky noises of someone who was in a bad state and needed some good ol' distraction and comfort.

Now, like I said I knew nothing about Star Wars as a whole. And I still haven't watched the movies, besides the ocassional gif?

So imagine my shock, my surprise, my...bewilderment when I realized.

"Wait a minute, LUKE IS ANAKIN'S SON?! HOLY-"

Ladies, gentleman, and others, I think I came very late to this party and I don't even know how it took me so long.

Not only that, but because of this sudden love for the series, I went to my friends circle like "BESTIE, GUESS WHAT, I HAVE A NEW BLROBO AND A NEW FAV SHIP AND EEEP"

And my friends are like "omg that's amazing, what is it?"

I tell them, and of course they all know these characters and they all react like they know this very bad secret fact and I got told several times already "Please, don't watch the episodes 2 and 3 alone, it will hurt."

I feel like blissfully walking among rainbows and blue skies while everyone else know that my future is doomed. Somehow.

(Uncomfortable silence)

Not only that, but then I spent a whole deal of time thinking "Where the heck I have seen these guys" cus there was some fmailiarity I couldn't just point out and then one day I woke up, brushed my teeth and of all sudden I realized and it was such a shock.

Do you know how SURREAL is to get very into a character, and into a ship, and then realize they're the same from that super widespread meme that has been around for who knows how much time?

I swear I thought that meme was from some old medieval fantasy movies or something.

But alas, Star Wars now is EVERYWHERE. People do references to Star Wars ALL THE TIME and it's just now I'm catching them.

I got spoilers. From a meme. In a youtube review that had nothing to do with Star Wars hah. Everything is a spoiler, the world is an apparent spoiler. Now I'm here, trying to avoid spoilers from something everyone seems to know, even my family knows. It's so surreal and I wouldn't have it any other way 😂

Anyways, if you read until here, know that a wild ride still waits me, cuz I'm only starting Season 3 of Clone Wars and I don't plan to watch the movies until I finish the series.

And yes, I made this blog just to ramble freely about SW and draw stuff because it sparked my inspiration after a long art block.

Have this doodle I drew after watching the two first episodes, my offering for you reaching this far.

Note: Wouldn't Anakin and Padmé's ship name be Animé? Cuz that's hilarious.

[madelinemccoolname]

Slime girl hrt

So, you’ve decided you’re a slimegirl. I’ve been on fluid replacement therapy, commonly referred to as slime hrt or shortened to frt, for five years but I haven’t managed to find a decent guide on the effects I’ve been experiencing anywhere on the internet. So I’ve decided to make this little guide for anyone who might still be on the fence. Keep in mind obviously I don’t speak for everyone and other goorl’s timelines might look a little bit different based on like genetics or something.

0-6 months

• For the first 3 months the effects are, I’m told, similar to estrogen’s first couple months, you’ll notice for sure your skin getting softer, your face might round out a bit, but the most you get are the side effects

• I personally was not prepared for how thirsty I got, I had heard about it but you really don’t know how much of your body isn’t liquid until you’re replacing all of it

• At 4 months is when I noticed my skin and body were moving kinda differently, tho this got the most pronounced at 6 months

• At 6 months all of my skin rippled like the surface of a pond whenever anyone touched me or like if the wind started blowing

• My joints got a lot more flexible, and my elbows and knees became double jointed (don’t do this too much)

• My hair didn’t get tangled overnight anymore

• My finger prints went away

6-12 months

• Here’s where the real magic starts, I got a lot thirstier for one and specifically had cravings for gatorade, I think this has something to do with slimegirls being partially salt water, but it could also be the food coloring in it (this is a joke about me drinking a lot of light blue gatorade and then being light blue)

• On the subject of color my skin got a sort of blue tinge to it, and most notably got completely see through by my 8 month mark

• The changes start from the thinnest part of your body and goes in towards your core, so even by 5 months your fingertips might be completely clear

• This next part is partially why I wanted to make this guide, so obviously your body doesn’t liquify at the same rate all over, for me this meant I was able to see the muscle in my upper arms if I looked through my fingers, this is both normal and something you’re going to have to get used to as you continue your journey

• Your toes are also going to turn at the same rate, this will probably be your first experience with lint getting in your slime bits, you don’t need to worry about your bloodstream getting infected with sock but regularly picking out bits is good hygiene and something you wanna get into the habit of

• My hair officially finished it’s transition into one solid shape, it still had defined follicles but if you tried to grab a strand of hair the rest would try to come with it

• People also started to ask me who dyed my hair, please note it’s always funny to say “it’s the way Goo-d made me” in response to this

12-24 months

• This window is larger than the others because all you’re going to notice from now on are the big changes

• Avoid tanktops past 14 months, your arms should be entirely translucent at this point and while having a buncha stuff floating around in my goo is kinda gender for me, people generally do not like to see slightly dissolved organs and ribcage

• 14 months was also when I noticed that my arm bones had entirely disappeared, my leg bones were also just barely holding in there, moving without bones was so freeing

• if you ever want anyone you know to stick their fingers in your slime, now’s probably the first time anyone's willing to stick their fingers far into your arms and legs, try to get them to wiggle their fingers. if they’re really adventurous they’ll stick their whole arm through to the other side, which still makes me a little squeamish

• Now that we’re at the part where I was mostly slime, we should probably talk about slime color. I’m going to dispel this misinformation, there is no way to find out what color a slimegirl is going to be before she starts transitioning. Some people say its eye color but that’s a lie. I am naturally a blue slime girl but my eyes pretransition were green. To dispel another myth you can dye yourself with food coloring, so you don’t even really have to stress about it

• By 18 months the only part of me that wasn’t slime was my head, the skull takes the longest time to dissolve because you’re doing the skull and all the organs in there all at once, see the human body really really wants to keep the brain safe, so when your brain gets the signal to get rid of your bones, it just does it all at once

• Some people say their eyesight got better, tho that seems to be anecdotal (mine stayed the same sadly)

• 18 months is also when I started experimenting with my shape. This was probably the most frustrating part of it for me, shapeshifting your goo is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier it’ll get. If you want a specific shape, spend enough time in it, and it’ll become your default shape, though you’ll never forget your original shape.

• 24 months is the last point I want to cover, by 24 months I was 100% liquid, the heavy viscosity from early transition leads to something closer to a liquid jello. I can detach parts of my body and then move to replace it, and I can reabsorb the parts I leave behind

• Clothes should rest just on the surface of you, though I know a lot of girls just change themselves to look clothed (probably more than you think ;)

• Suspenders and heavy cardigans break surface tension for me, luckily that's also a cute look so sometimes I match my cardigan with overalls for an aquarium effect on the overall straps

• This was also when I stopped breathing and going to the bathroom

• Some people report “knowing” when certain parts of their brain turn into goo, I didn’t experience that but it certainly could happen

Things I didn’t know where else they would fit

• I feel like a lot of this post was mainly dry, so in the interest of avoiding having a dry slime girl post, this section will mostly just be slime things that brought me joy

• I love speaking in slime puns, I keep a little book of slime puns and slant rimes just in case the slime arises that i would ever ooze some

• Being out in the rain or being out on a windy day is so much better when you can feel your entire body move in the wind, in particular go out on a rainy day without anything on, and lay down on the ground, the rain rippling through your entire body is heavenly

• Speaking of weather, when I first noticed I was refracting light on a sunny day I almost started crying, I felt so pretty and right :)

• I said I stopped needing to use the bathroom, but I still do siphon off some goo once a month. Mostly this is to get out bits of trash that accumulate and also because it feels exactly like taking a shower after a hard sweaty day’s work

• Speaking of bits, get a powerful magnet and metal shaving and you could probably waste a whole day just moving metal shavings through your body

• This might be a bit late in the guide for this, but when my arms finally turned I pulled a great prank on my at the time girlfriend by sticking my hand into a blender (do not do this if you still have bones, or value your girlfriend not being really really mad at you)

So that's all you need to know before starting frt, becoming the slime of your dreams is a difficult and beautiful process. I know a lot of what i described here might be frightening but if it sounds enticing at all know that it’s worth it.

[cevansbrat0007]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMr8fYuj5/

I can see so clear Bird putting Ari in the dog house again and later in the day he arrives at her home with a bag full of her favorites snacks, heat pads, painkillers and a note for his sweet wild woman

Summary: Somehow, Ari always seems to know all the right ways to take care of you...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Fluff, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Brat!Reader, References to Menstrual Cycles & PMS, Cuddles, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You automatically perk up from your place on the couch when you hear the slam of your front door. Ari had left the house hours ago, muttering something under his breath that you hadn’t quite been able to make out. 

“Beast?” You call when he doesn’t immediately appear. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Is that my Bird in there?” He quickly fires back. “Is that who I’m talkin’ to?”

His unexpected dramatics immediately set your teeth on edge. Just what the hell did he mean by all that?

“Who the hell else would it be?” Your question comes out sounding more like a growl. 

Instead of answering you’re treated to the sound of footsteps as Ari finally makes his way to you. But instead of coming all the way into the room, you’re confused when he chooses to poke his head around the corner. 

“Just checking.” His wary blue eyes are sparkling with a hint of mirth. 

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Nah, baby. Just bein’ careful.” Ari steps out hiding then, his brawny arms laden with several brown grocery bags.

“Why the hell would you have to be careful?”

“Because when I walked out the house earlier I did so under the impression that my woman had been replaced by one of those she-demons you only read about in books.” He offers you an unrepentant shrug before setting his purchases on the opposite sofa. “Aww, c’mon now. Don’t make that face."

“I’m not makin’ any kinda face, you Beast.” You huff, doing your damndest not to pout. “I just don’t know what the hell you’re goin’ on about.”

“Then how come you’re over there looking like you’ve been suckin’ on a lemon?” The handsome bastard has the nerve to smile at you as begins digging items out of one of the bags. 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not, you –” Your petty retort is interrupted when your bounty hunter suddenly chucks an orange bag at your head. Thankfully, you manage to catch it before it makes contact with your face. “Jalapeño cheetos?”

“Yep.” He grunts, giving you a knowing look. “I also got you the regular ones too in case you decide those are suddenly too spicy for you.”

“Oh.” Is all you can muster, turning the bag over in your hands. These were your favorites whenever you allowed yourself to indulge. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah. Not done yet, baby.” 

You watch as he systematically begins pulling items out of the bags. He also makes a point of showing you each one, much to your overall chagrin. 

“Let’s see…” Ari moves the bags to the floor, which allows you to get a good, long look at all of the treats and treasures he procured while he was out. “We’ve got us another bag of Cheetos, plus a bag of white cheddar cheese popcorn. Next up, we’ve got two hefty slices of strawberry cheesecake. I got my own, so you don’t have to share,”

Smart man.

“I mean…” You quietly hedge, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip. “I don’t know why you felt compelled to buy all this stuff.” 

“Oh you don’t, huh?” His eyes go wide as he cocks his head to the side.

“Nope.” The word tumbles out of your mouth with a soft pop.

Instead of responding he chooses to simply ignore you. “Here we have a variety of chocolate bars – milk chocolate, milk chocolate with fuckin’ caramel, milk chocolate with some kinda weird nougaty shit, you get the idea.” He spares a glance in your direction long enough to study your face. “We’ve also got dark chocolate with both sea salt and some kind of intense orange peel somethin’. Do any of these work for you?”

“Why, yes, all of them but–”

“Moving on, I’ve got a box of cocoa, peppermint tea, and oh! Nearly forgot the fuckin’ heating pad.” Ari holds up the box so that you can see it. “If this isn’t the right one I will go back out and buy another.” 

The seriousness of his features makes it plain that he’s not kidding. He gingerly hands the box to you, giving you a moment to peruse the information included on the box.

How the hell could he have known that yours had only just gone out? Oh. Because you’d mentioned it the night before last. It always seemed to surprise you just how much this man seemed to listen to you. 

“This is...this is good.” You tell him, hugging the box to your chest. “It’s great, actually.”

“Thank Christ.” He breathes, relief evident in his tone. 

“Ari, did you do all this because I was feeling a little snippy this morning?” While his intentions were sweet, they also felt like a little over the top 

“Snippy? Is that what we’re calling it?” His tawny brows shoot up high enough to reach his hairline. “Because this morning you threatened to beat me with a sack of oranges for snoring too loud.”

Oh. Right. Oops.

“And when I made the mistake of walking on the carpet in my work boots, you literally threatened to unman me.”

“I was worried about the mud.” You mumble with a wince. 

“And the fact that you just so happened to be aggressively chopping vegetables at the time? Pure coincidence?”

“Yep.” Your voice comes out so small you almost surprise yourself.

“And then, when I tried to apologize and take ‘em off, you told me you were gonna throw me and them into the nearest lake. And then fly in a pack of gators to make sure that we were never seen or heard from again.” 

“A joke.” You try once more. “That’s all.”

“Yeah well, I’m not the type of man to make jokes about a woman’s monthly bein’ on the horizon.” Ari picks up a small box of what looks to be medication. “But even so, I also know how to count.” He adds with a shrug before taking a step towards you. “My sisters swear up and down that this Midol shit works wonders with demon feelings.”

“Thank you.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble when your man reaches out to gently cup your chin.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No.” You reassure him, your hand going to gently grip his wrist so you can stroke your thumb over his pulse “I’m sorry.”

Ari stares you at you for a beat, before finally leaning down to tenderly brush his mouth over yours. “S’alright, sweet Bird.” He repeats the action, smiling into the kiss when he feels you relax against him. “I reckon it ain’t all your fault.” 

“You’re too good to me, baby.” You try to pull him down on the couch with you, only to pout when he resists.  “C’mere…” You whine. “I wanna make it up to you.”

“Let me go put this stuff away first.” He rises to his full height before politely taking the box from your hands. “Unless you want some of it now.”

You take a minute to think. “Just some chocolate please.”

“Any preference?”

“Dealer’s choice.” 

Ari tosses you a random bar, which you eagerly accept without so much as a second look. You tear into it, barely removing the foil before taking a bite. It goes down so good you can’t help but have another.

“Now, I won’t be gone but a minute.” Just in case, he decides to leave you with the box of Midol as well. 

Meanwhile, you decide that it’s in your best interest to remain quiet. Because unbeknownst to this man, you had actually gotten your period today sometime after he’d left the house.

“And if those demon feelings start to come back, you just pop a couple of those, alright?” He’s still so incredibly serious about this that all you can do is nod.. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you.” You’re rewarded with a flash of teeth posing as a grin. “And when I get back, do you, uh…” He rolls his broad shoulders. “You think you got any room for me on that couch?”

Instead of responding, you choose to offer him a bite of your chocolate. You’re secretly more than a little giddy when he accepts. It was a sign that all was forgiven. 

“Why don’t you hurry back and find out?”

Still grinning, you watch as Ari hastily gathers up all of your goodies before taking off in the direction of the kitchen. “Go on and turn on one of those horror movies you like, little Bird. I’m gonna need you to snuggle close to make up for how you treated me today.” 

With that he’s gone, leaving you with just enough time to retrieve extra blankets and pillows from a nearby closet. Forget a heating pad. Having you man this close was practically like having a human furnace at your beck and call. 

Jesus Christ, how did you get so lucky?

“Beast?” You let your voice ring out as soon as you’ve found yourself a good movie. It’s been ages since you’ve watched Paranormal Activity, and you had it on good authority that Ari had never seen it.

“Yeah?” He bellows from the next room.

“Bring us a slice of cheesecake to share. I wanna enjoy it with you before we get too scared.”

“Whatever you want, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he's laughing at you in the sweetest way possible.

And quite honestly, in this moment, you wouldn't have it any other way. 

END

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[fruity-fruition]

Tenma siblings headcanons from the top of my head

--

I'm a FIRMM believer that Tenma siblings are very physically affectionate (i.e. hugs, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, high fives, shoulder bumping, cuddling, hair ruffling, etc)

This takes Toya fully by surprise when they do it to him outright, without any room for denial.

--

Tsukasa was eating breakfast with Saki and Toya before realizing he was going to be late for a meet-up with Wondershow.

He has this thing, where he instinctively kisses Saki on the forehead before he heads off, so he does. But, in his unfiltered older brother instinct and disarray, he kisses Toya on the forehead too. And just. Leaves.

Toya kinda blue screens before snapping back and being like "what."

Saki doesn't even bat an eye lmao she just kinda looks at him like he's a little weird.

Toya: (literally saw Tsukasa kiss Saki's forehead first before beelining to him without any hesitation) "I think... he mistook me for you"

Saki: "Toya you dumb fuck (/affectionate) you've been one of us since you stepped foot in our house"

--

Tenma siblings cuddle a lot, usually on the couch during movies. Tsukasa in the middle, Saki to his right, and Toya to his left. They aren't aware of the set position but whenever they switch, all of them all at once just think "something is not right rn"

While cuddling, Tsukasa often uses his right hand (which Saki is leaning on) to either scroll his phone, read, or so show work (costume designing, script writing, ideas, etc). He always leans his head on Saki's. He uses his left hand to run through Toya's hair.

--

Toya starts referring to Saki and Tsukasa as his siblings and family outside sometimes.

Saki and Tsukasa listens to pop music sometimes. Not their main music taste, but enough for it to be significant.

This culminates to a very confusing moment for VBS, who've met Toya's biological, douche, emotionally constipated classical music family, when they hear Toya say "Oh, yeah I know Taylor Swift. My family listens to her sometimes."

Which scared VBS to their core because why is Harumichi Aoyagi listening to western white girl music

--

Tsukasa loves baking and cooking. It's a stress reliever thing for him. This is a huge bonus for his siblings (mainly Saki. Toya's not a huge sweets person) because there's always sweets in the pantries.

Toya never sneaks into the kitchen alone, he wouldn't dare. Plus, again, not a huge sweets person. Saki, however, is a horrible influence. They often have 2am gossip, accompanied by brownies and vanilla ice cream.

--

Toya and Saki can't cook for their life. (I know canonically, they're okay-ish, but hear me out.)

Toya, raised as a rich kid for most his life, has never cut a single raw ingredient in his life until his late teen years.

Saki's been hospitalized for the majority of her life.

Tsukasa's the only Tenma sibling with cooking and baking skills (considering he had to fend for himself for a while)

While they were baking together, Toya and Saki managed to get the batter on the ceiling AND explode the microwave because the batter had too much eggshells in it when they put it in. Tsukasa had to call Rui over to fix it.

Tsukasa: "I can't pay you for now, Rui I'm so sorry-"

Rui: "Don't worry about it, Tsukasa"

Tsukasa: "I'll repay you in sweets when we're done?"

Rui: "...preferably not ceiling ones but yeah I'd like that"

--

Speaking of,

Ruikasa starts dating and Tsukasa swears that Rui had nothing to worry about when it comes to his family. They're welcoming! They're open! They'll love him.

Rui decided to not tell him about the glares coming from a certain pinkish blonde and split haired boy when they announced the news. (At least the parents were sweet)

Toya and Saki actually has no real gripes against Rui. They're protective, sure, they will eventually corner Rui and interrogate him, but Saki just thinks it's funny and Toya is just Toya. Rui's paranoid lmao

--

Akito punching Toya in the main story left a bruise (as seen in the official animation) which Tsukasa and Saki got really concerned about during their arcade hangout (Toya's first 3* side story).

Tsukasa figured out that Akito was the one who did it, and ranted to Saki about it. But he retracts it when the duo made up.

Saki isn't letting that shit go, oh no. This GINGER punched her brother?? Then, she started hearing about how Akito likes messing with Tsukasa, even insulting him to his face sometimes.

So she has a personal beef with Akito. Who didn't even know she existed.

When Akito first step foot into the Tenma household, he was dreading the presence of Tsukasa, but to his shock and horror, Tsukasa is actually more tame at home.

His biggest worry should've been the girl with pigtails, who, upon seeing him, got up from her chair and heads straight to her room. not breaking eye contact.

It takes a while, but Saki and Akito gains an unlikely alliance.

--

Names I gave to the Tenmas:

Tenma siblings: All three of them, at once

Tenma Twins: Saki and Toya

Tenma brothers: Tsukasa and Toya

Prototype Tenma: Tsukasa and Saki

(real original I know)

--

Kohane is Wondershow's number #1 fan, probably Tsukasa's number #6 fan (I love her but her competition is Saki, Toya, and Wondershow. Idk what to tell you. At least she got a number)

She absolutely loses it when Toya got them all free tickets to one of their shows.

Akito dreads going. An is slightly excited. Kohane is radiating pure joy.

Akito nearly cries when when Kohane admits that she actually likes Tsukasa as a person, not just a performer, when she properly meets him.

Akito: "An you're my only hope. Toya's biased, Kohane's insane"

An: "idk dude Tenma and Kamishiro are pretty cool when they're not actively trying to blow the school up"

Akito: "An please"

--

I have so much more idk maybe I'll post more later

[visualtaehyun]

I already spent way too much time watching and dissecting this episode so let's get right into it!

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏

Title

คลื่นกลางมหาสมุทร /khluen glaang mahasamut/ = waves/ripples amidst the ocean

-> "Echoes Across the Endless Blue" sounds super pretty and, most obviously, it seems to refer to Rak's panic attack underwater

Writer Tongrak

Love that Mut's shirt matches the tassel curtains in Rak's room lol

I copied down the entirety of the 4 articles Mut found but I don't have time right now to translate them so let's just breeze over the last two right now-

The articles mention two of Rak's novels (irl they're MAME's obviously): - "The Boy Next World คนละกาลเวลา" aka the new BossNoeul series - "Love Director วาดรักกํากับใจ" aka the novels Prapai's uncle Frost is from

ViMook

their pronoun use: มุก /Mook/ -> พี��(วี) /phi (Vi)/ and พี่ /phi/ -> มุก /Mook/

A->B is to be understood as I->you, meaning Mook calls herself by name and Vi does so vice versa, and, because Vi is the older one, they both refer to her as พี่ /phi/

The name of Vi's script is so on the nose omg

กลพรางนางมารร้าย /gon phraang naang maan raai/ "The Devil's Tricks"

-> นาง /naang/ specifically means a woman, นางมารร้าย /naang maan raai/ can mean villainess, evil woman, demoness, ...think femme fatale, too. For reference, "The Devil Wears Prada" is called นางมารสวมปราด้า /naang maan suam Prada/ in Thai.

-> as far as I can make out, the cover says 'written and directed by วรรณรัตน์ รัตนเดช' (no clue what it says below his name) - that's Love Sea's art director:

And because I just about lost it at Vi leaving her underwear out for Mook to clean, here's our dearest pearl holding Vi's lacy undies hehehe

I keep calling her pearl btw because that's what her name means- ไข่มุก /khai mook/ = pearl

รางวัลสำหรับเลขาคนเก่ง /raang-wan sam-rap leh-khaa khohn geng/

-> เก่ง /geng/ is the same compliment Mut gives Rak later:

...and what got fittingly translated as "Quite the biter":

กัดเก่งเลยน่ะ /gat geng loei na/

ชาติที่แล้วเป็นหมารึไง /chaat thee laaeo bpen maa reu ngai?/ = Were you a dog in your previous life or what?

More from and about Rak

This translation took me out, it's so fitting and funny:

เสร็จแล้ว ปล่อยแล้ว ก็กลับไปได้แล้ว /set laaeo, bplaawy laaeo - gaaw glap bpai dai laaeo/ = Finished/Came, released - then you can go back now.

ก็ใครจีบพี่สุดหล่อติดน่ะ /gaaw khrai jip phi soot laaw dtit na/ = Well, whoever's gonna succeed in pursuing that handsome Phi (Rak).

พาไปกินข��าวหน่อย /phaa bpai gin khaao naawy/ -> หน่อย /naawy/ softens the request which kinda surprised me after he came in so fiercely with the possessiveness (that he immediately denied lol)

She calls herself พี่ /phi/ as in Rak's literal older sister! The credits tell me her name is ของขวัญ /khaawng khwan/ = gift, present

[kitkat-the-muffin]

Tis a niche of its own

Sorry there is only two female characters, I kinda pulled these off the top of my head and probably missed a ton of other candidates. Reblog with an addition if you have one!

Edit: I forgot to make this poll a week long! Once this poll ends I'll remake it with new additions depending on the results (the characters with the fewest results will be replaced with suggested characters from the notes so be sure to suggest some!) in the meantime tho plz reblog to increase sample size

This follows my own definition of what "Comic Relief" means: A character that is used as a conduit for comedy in a piece of media

Through character studies I have determined that there are 5 types of comic relief: the Character Relief, the Audience Relief, the Tone Shifter, the Butt of the Joke, and the Slapstick. Characters that identify as "Comic Relief" usually fall into one or more of these categories

Further explanation under the cut

The Character Relief refers to a character who actively makes jokes to be funny in-universe through conscious humor. Examples from this poll would be Sans and Rayla, who go out of their way to make their friends laugh

The Audience Relief refers to a character who makes the audience laugh regardless of their impact on the story. Examples from this poll would be Lapis and Gus, who are often involved in comedic bits meant for audience entertainment that aren't acknowledged by the narrative as anything unprecedented

The Tone Shifter refers to a character who makes jokes to relieve tension and shift the tone of a scene, either consciously or unconsciously. Examples from this poll would be Jay and Leo, as they both consciously make jokes about grim situations to help their friends or family feel better. Additionally, Jay would do this unconsciously before his trauma made him start doing it on purpose

The Butt of the Joke refers to a character who is made fun of by other characters in-universe, whether endearingly or not. Examples from this poll would be Dewey and Lance, who are often met with insults whenever they do something wrong or silly. The insults are usually meant to be endearing and comedic, but they can still feed into the character's possible inferiority complex. This also applies whenever a villain hits them with a sick burn*

The Slapstick refers to a character who is made fun of by the narrative and the audience like a punching bag. Examples from this poll would be Sokka and Yusuke, who are sometimes put in troubling and awkward situations as a gag for the audience's entertainment alone. These gags are not fun for the characters yet delightful to watch

Most comic relief characters can be characterized as multiples of these. For example, Jar-Jar from Star Wars is both Slapstick and Audience Relief, and even if you don't find his jokes funny that doesn't change the fact that they were written with your entertainment in mind

If you're curious how a "The Narrative's Favorite (derogatory)" character would fit into this chart, they're likely both a Butt of the Joke and a Slapstick character, making their life absolute hell. To be honest, MK from Monkie Kid is an example of a character who fits all 5 categories, but he isn't blue so he isn't in this poll

*Ok if you've ever seen Phineas and Ferb Mission Marvel let me just say MODOK is a total Butt of the Joke and my favorite line in that special is when a TV announcer calls him a "Giant Chicken Egg with a Face" and I just had to mention that omg

[project-sekai-facts]

someone asked for the full list

don't question what i use tiermaker for

Tier 1: As stated in today's fact, Shizuku and Haruka can be considered the most attractive characters in the game, as multiple characters have shown attraction to them. Shizuku moreso than Haruka, but there's not too much of a difference to separate the tiers.

Tier 2: These characters have all been stated somewhere to be attractive.

Mafuyu is considered to be outstanding in all fields, including appearance. It's occassionally commented that she is quite pretty. Ichika and KAITO's first kizuna title is "Ikemen while playing", ikemen meaning handsome or cool. Ena has a Twitter account for selfies that has a reasonable following, and she often gets comments saying that she's pretty or cute. Len has a similar sort of idol aura to Haruka does, and is referred to as 'princely'.

Tier 3: These characters are never explicitly stated in the game to be attractive, but you can work it out.

A few background characters in Petit SEKAI Episode 9 mention that Akito and Toya are hot. Given that the miniseries is non-canon and a gag show it's up for debate how true this is, although it is a believable detail, hence why they're in this tier.

As for Rui, we have to look at the Valentine's Virtual Live from 2021 (wiki screenshots below). Keep in mind here that Rui is not popular in school at all and doesn't have many friends at this point in the game. He mentions that he received a few boxes of chocolate in his shoe locker on Valentine's Day, which admittedly could be platonic. However, the fact that this continues on into a joke about Tsukasa trying to claim that he got chocolates too before revealing that he got friendzoned by multiple girls (more on that in a second), makes it seem more likely that these weren't platonic. Linking back to the fact that he's not popular and doesn't really have many friends, he's probably pretty good-looking.

Tier 4: An being scouted as a model was an important part of the plot of Wishing For Your Happiness Upon The Blue Sky, and it's mentioned in an area conversation that Kanade has been talent scouted for modelling before.

Tier 5: Full disclosure that probably all of the MMJ VSingers are either pretty or cute, the ones mentioned here are just the ones I remember it being stated/implied. In the April Fools 2022 area conversation with the Lukas, MMJ!Luka says that WxS!Luka is very cute. N25!Luka calls her MMJ variant out for calling herself cute, and MMJ!Luka says that she herself is cute. (TL)

Kohane is mainly referred to as cute by An, which is biased, but other characters have pointed this fact out before as well, so she qualifies for this tier.

Mizuki loves cute clothes and accessories and always tries to look cute. I believe a few other characters have called them cute, but unfortunately the only instance I can actually remember is one transphobic faceless background character saying "you can't tell and they're super cute".

Also Minori and Airi are here because they're idols and have been called cute because that's part of being an idol I suppose.

Tier 6: Yes he gets his own tier because it's funny. This guy runs on rule of funny like 50% of the time. Anyway, as mentioned earlier, in the 2021 Valentine's Virtual Live, he gets annoyed when he hears Rui talking about receiving (implied romantic) chocolate and tries to claim that he too received (implied confession) chocolate, before saying too much and revealing that he only received friend chocolates that girls gave out to all the other boys as well.

Tsukasa's actually a lot more popular than Rui and doesn't have the same "outcast" reputation, plus in his A Once-In-A-Lifetime Pandemonium card story, Ibuki (Taniyama) mentions that Tsukasa's friends from class are really popular with girls, and Rui's friends are surprised he's in that kinda crowd (not that Tsukasa quite gets it). What I'm saying is that he's in a crowd of popular guys that are good with women and he's failing in that second aspect. The reason why is never stated but considering the school's resident outcast is able to get Valentine's chocolate for probably no reason other than looks, it's safe to assume Tsukasa is maybe lacking in that field.

But.

I think two guys have flirted with him? One definitely has anyway. The other is more up for debate but was probably written with the intent of ship tease. Depends on how you choose to interpret it.

In other words on a scale of attractive to unattractive he's the secret 3rd option (appeals to the mlms).

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER SEVEN — WELCOME to the REAL WORLD, JACKASS

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: christmastime in hawkins brings a bunch of cherry bombs in the boy's bathroom, a trip down memory lane via seven minutes in heaven avenue, and the least likely trio this town has ever seen. content warnings: MINORS DNI i'm going to fuck you up and santa isn't real so we've got, smut including references to and descriptions of male and female masturbation, smoking, swearing, a pregnancy scare, era-typical misogyny and ANGST in the form of a flashback!!! word count: 12.5k. merry christmas babies

Dear reader, it takes you less than five weeks to become incapable of imagining your life without Eddie Munson.

Which, given his propensity for being an absolute neanderthal, is concerning.

Eddie Munson talks with his mouth full and plays his music too loud. He never closes a cabinet all the way. He walks through anywhere, literally anywhere, be it a store or the library or Ronnie’s trailer–leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He talks during movies and puts his feet up on the seats at the Hawk. He makes fun of the books you read, but always grabs them away from you to stare at the blurb on the back. He never finishes a cigarette all the way before lighting another one, which is just wasteful. He pretends to be good at holding his liquor, but he’s not. 

He stands too close to you in places where he’s got plenty of room to move. He makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to. He holds the door for you in school, at the bookstore, getting out of the van, even though you’re more than capable of doing that yourself. He takes advantage of you when you’re in a good mood, like making you scratch his head as if he were a cat.

Sometimes he calls you ‘baby’, as if you don’t have a nickname already. As if you two are…

You lean toward the only mirror in the girls’ room with decent light, reapplying the red lip stain you’d taken to wearing– it was coming on Christmas, for god’s sake, and despite everything, you’re feeling festive. Quick. Lighter on your feet than you have been in a long time. 

“Hey girl, could I borrow that?” an out-of-tune simper rings right next to your ear and you almost jump out of your skin, lipstick clattering into the sink.

“Jesus!” you say, and Eddie Munson cackles. You knock him back with a one-handed shove, face setting into that funny little grimace you’ve taken to wearing when he acts up– and he’s always acting up. You’re gonna get wrinkles if he doesn’t cut it out. “What the hell are you doing in here? Hair in your eyes make you miss the sign that says girl’s room?”

You know that’s not true, because you were the one that just about tied him to a chair in Ronnie Ecker’s trailer so you could trim his bangs last week. 

This is a fuckin’ violation of my human rights, Lacy!

Every time I’m seen with you, people think I’m out walking a goddamn Briard. Hold still!

“So, hot off the press, newspaper girl,” Eddie says, leaning against the yellow porcelain, “One, I am literate, much to everyone’s shock and awe. And two, someone threw a bunch of cherry bombs down the john in the boy’s bathroom and the place is fucking Hiroshima, but wet and kinda shitty smelling. So we all got told to use this…” He gestures around at the clean-ish tile. “...salon of iniquity.” 

“Was it you?” you ask, plucking a cigarette from the soft pack he’s offering you. 

“Huh?” He scrunches his brows, leaning with a lighter ready. He’s taken to doing that; cigarette at the ready, lighter at the ready, low-grade explosives at the ready, probably.

“The cherry bombs, was it you?” you say through a reel of blue smoke.

“For once, no,” Eddie sighs, head slumping forward like a Peanuts character, “Some other gorgeous, anarchistic genius got the jump on me.” 

“Oh, god,” a frown sets in; you pick up your dropped lipstick and in its wake, ash into the sink, “There’s no other bathrooms on campus you animals could use?”

“Nuh-uh. Unisexuality, baby, it’s the way of the future,” Eddie tells you, fanning out his hands like P.T. Barnum. 

A beat. You think. This bathroom, the unofficially allocated senior bathroom, the one you and the rest of the Hawkins in-crowd had been using since sophomore year, got crowded at the best of times. The fumes of Aquanet were a definite health risk, but that’s an occupational hazard when it comes to being a girl. You add boys into the mix, nay, couples into the mix–

Damn.

“We’re about to witness the conception of so many toilet babies.”

Realization dawns on Eddie, his brown eyes flaring. “Oh shiiiit. I never thought of that.” 

“The band geeks alone, Eddie,” you whisper, head tilting toward him all scandalized-like, “We’re gonna show up at our fifteen year reunion and every single one of these suckers is gonna have their own little freshman clones.”

“Spare a thought for Heather Holloway.” Eddie’s face, a mask of mock concern, makes you roll your eyes.

“Why?” you scoff, not a fan, “She doesn’t inspire many.” 

“Objection. Her implants do.”

You turn to face him fully. “J’excuse?” 

“Swear to god,” and his palms are up, “Just saw her in Chemistry.”

“Good? Bad?”

“Conical. Jayne Mansfield.” Aaand his hands are gesturing, animatedly. Crassly. Pervily. “Take your goddamn eye out.”

“Wow. Christmas came early.”

“Christmas ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be coming early…”

“Ew.”

Eddie smirks and flicks his cigarette into the sink, hitting the faucet to wash it away– there were at least three good drags left in that, you think. 

“Heather H, first one to get knocked up in the Great Bathroom Insemination Project of 1984. Mark my words.”

“And you think you’re in with a shot?” Your tone is dripping in sneer. 

Eddie regards you for a moment, so you know something deeply annoying is about to happen. His voice goes all serious, barely above a whisper, as he closes space between you like he’s trying to beat a draft. 

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Lacy baby.” His hands brace either side of the sink you’re standing at, trapping you against him. See? No respect for boundaries. But– Hm. Not… that annoying. “Oversexed teenagers sharing the same bathroom– at Christmas, with all that mistletoe around and shit.” His eyes, searching you with a glint that’s s’posed to be provocative. You, elbow propped up by your folded arm, puff a plume of smoke into his face. He doesn’t even blink. Smirk pursing his lips up. The two of you have established a rhythm. “Anything could happen.”

“Ew, what the hell are you doing in here? This is the girl’s room.” Enter some upstart underclassman, and Eddie’s peeling away from you.

“You didn’t see the biblical flood on the second floor, Pippi Longstocking?” His voice is big and booming and bouncing off the tile, making the underclassman cringe. “Forcible takeover. This is my house now.”

“God, shut up, freak.” She shuffles by the two of you to a vacant stall with a look you recognize– she’s so telling her friends about those two trailer park abnormos just about copulating in the bathroom later.

“Great choice!” Eddie exclaims, door of the stall slamming, “I warmed the seat for ya!” 

—

“Watch where you’re going, you almost milled down that stroller!”

“I wouldn’t need to go so fast if you two, freakin’ Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Priss Ass, didn’t insist on getting to this place before it closed!” 

“We wouldn’t need to rush if you hadn’t spent all freakin’ afternoon at goddamn Lipton landing getting all– all–”

“All?”

“--toked up and shit!”

“Market research, Ecker! And, I’m gonna remember you said that! Later! When you want to get all toked up and shit– woah!”

Listening to Ronnie Ecker and Eddie Munson bicker in the front seat while you balance on a drum stool in the back of his van, clutching onto Ronnie’s passenger seat for dear life– no better way to get into the spirit of the season. You’d be joining in the milieu if you weren’t currently suffering from major motion sickness. 

Eddie takes a harsh pull into a parking spot outside of Family Video and–“Go, go, go!”--you three load out like soldiers, locked on the target. He takes the lead, swinging the door open for the two of you ladies, but a voice calls out from the counter before Ronnie can even get a toe over the threshold.

“Oh, no– no way, no way!” Steve Harrington’s yelling from the helm of the ship, waving his hands. “We are– fifteen goddamn minutes away from close, I can’t do this tonight!” 

“Highly unwise of you to turn away paying customers, Harrington!” Eddie gasps, Ronnie ducking under his arm. 

“You guys come in here and spend honest-to-god hours talking shit in the aisles and– and you never even rent anything!” 

“Well, your luck’s about to change!” Ronnie says, and Steve regards her with a mask of total confusion because, well, it’s likely he’s never heard her speak directly to anyone other than Eddie before. 

That’s when you roll in the door under Eddie’s arm-arch, color rising in your cheeks that’s not from the cold. 

“I am deeply reconsidering my association with you guys.” 

“Tough shit.” “Find another trailer park.” “You love it. You love us. You’re obsessed.” 

You pinch both of your hands towards them, the universal action to encourage zipping it, and cast a glance towards Steve. His shoulders relax. His vest is green and garish and a terrible color on him and… he’s wearing elf ears. And he’s Steve Harrington. And your stomach clenches, though it’s more muscle memory than anything else. 

“Hey, Steve,” you smile, soft and small and not really all that there. 

“Lacy. Hi.” He does smile at you, after a beat. “You responsible for these assholes?”

You hadn’t seen him since the night of his party, that grand inferno that had landed you here, standing between Eddie and Ronnie and feeling not entirely awful about it. Well, you hadn’t exactly seen him then either, except for a flash when Eddie was dragging you out of his house. 

So, y’know, the blush is entirely justified.

“She’s bankrolling us,” Eddie says, closing the door to keep the heat in and speaking just to break the tension. True, too– you’d scored a part time gig at The Bookstore after a confrontation with the eagle-eyed Ivana regarding certain missing copies of Little Women, The Woman Destroyed and Fear and Trembling. You assumed you were working off the thievery, which you never directly admitted to and she never directly accused you of– but then, she paid you. 

Ivana, it turns out, is incredibly pro-workers rights and even more incredibly anti-Hawkins gossip mill. Which works out a treat for you. The bookstore’s become more of a haven than it had been before. 

“Can you scatter already?” you direct two thirds of your threesome towards the stacks. “Let’s make this breezy, I feel a wave of mortification rising.” 

“No. I was promised in-store bickering,” Eddie says, rooting himself to the spot. You catch a weird flash of– something in his eyes. Ronnie, with her unlikely band geek strength, groans and yanks him toward the horror section. “It’s my favorite part! It’s like the pre-show!”

You take to the counter, gingerly, shyly. Why are you shy? Why, all of a sudden, after showing your ass in such a spectacular bruise-garnering fashion, are you shy to speak to Steve Harrington? Is it because Nancy’s dropped a tidbit here and there that he’s not exactly great boyfriend material? Is it because you sometimes secretly think, good, I hope you two are having a terrible time, even if you and Wheeler are making baby steps towards a friendship?

Is it because you never forget the first person that called you Lacy?

Fuck knows. Some of that. 

“So you’re… what, hanging out now?” Steve asks, gesturing to the twin dipshits. There’s a bite in his voice from a former incarnation of Steve Harrington, one with (somehow) bigger hair and an unchecked ego. It doesn’t all shed at once, you figure. He’s sloughing it off and there’s still some left over, judging by the way he’s staring at Ronnie and Eddie. 

You look over your shoulder to them. It would be so easy to deride it, right– only due to my unfortunate proximity to them, yes or girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for a ride these days or it’s community service, I swear. 

But you don’t. You turn back to him with a pinchy little smile. “I’m this close to getting them to let me play tambourine in their band. Can you even deal?” 

Steve, after a beat and a brow furrow, sort of half nods. “Think I kind of… get that.” 

You’re about to answer when another body comes barrelling in through the back. 

“Just wanted to let you know, dingus, that I just got off the phone with Keith–you remember Keith, right, our manager who is currently in a war of words with our boss trying to keep this place open–and your little stock-take fuckup has cost us, like, weeks of manhours in work and–” Robin Buckley, complete with a light-up Santa hat, stops dead. Counts every person in the room. Shakes her head like she’s in a dream. “What is…”

“H–hi Robin!” Ronnie calls, her voice all squeaky– due to the scuffling headlock that Eddie has somehow managed to put her in without you and Steve even noticing. “Don’t worry, we– we’ll be out of your hair in a second!” 

And Robin– wait, is Robin kind of… blushing? She backs down immediately, putting her Family Video branded binder flat on the counter. “Yeah, no… that’s totally okay, take your time!” 

You look at Steve. Steve looks at you. You quirk an eyebrow like– is that, is she… And Steve shrugs like, don’t ask me, sister. Pleading the fifth. Saving Robin’s dignity. 

But you’re still you and you’ve been bugging Ronnie about her situation for weeks so you hold up a finger.

“What are you two idiots arguing about?”

“Black Christmas–” “Silent Night, Bloody– ow, Ronnie, don’t pull hair, you girl!”

A swivel back to Robin, who is totally pink-cheeked. “We need a professional to settle this.” 

Her mind seems to stutter like a badly wound tape. Oh, she’s suckered. “Uh– uh, Black Christmas, for sure. Not exactly the coziest thing to watch, but–”

“We’re not cozy people!” Eddie yells, Ronnie coming at him with arms like weed whackers.

“--but Margot Kidder, right?” you poke, goddamn Jimmy Page and John Bonham for the Midwest set slamming into the counter on either side of you.

“Olivia Hussey,” Ronnie says breathlessly. Eddie seems to have winded her somehow. “That’s– she’s cool–I heard she was in this–”

“Exactly!” Robin lights up, excited, “She– she played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet–”

“Wait, don’t you see her boobs in that movie?” Eddie jerks in. 

“Yes,” Robin and Steve chime in unison. And glance at each other. Telling. 

Ol’ Munson there snaps his fingers. “Sold.”

“But not in Black Christmas,” you say, almost gently, so as not to… let him down?

Eddie rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward your shoulder. “I’m a man with an imagination, ain’t I?” he rasps. You pretend-shudder.

“Okay, let’s do Black Christmas and– you got a copy of The Thin Man?”

Blink-blink goes Robin, like a cartoon. It’s nearly audible. “... like, the William Powell, Myrna Loy Thin Man?” 

Your turn to roll your eyes. God, you guys love to roll your eyes, huh? “Is there any other?”

“Like the black and white movie. You’re sure? I just didn’t think it’d be your–” 

But Eddie cuts right through that assumption that’s making an ass out of you and Robin, because he knows. He knows because you’ve made him sit through Double Indemnity at the Hawk, scolding him for putting his feet up (god forbid, right!) and you’ve even threatened to drag him to some Buster Keaton retrospective that’s playing there after the holidays. He keeps thinking, man, if Wayne Munson ever comes across this girl, he’s a goner, and then he remembers why that won’t be happening any time soon. 

“She’s a freak.”

You regard him with a tight smile. Kind of a thanks, kind of a fuck you. Kind of your thing. 

“I’ll watch it when these bozos pass out.” 

—

Something’s gotten into Eddie. 

You three are absolutely basking in the glory of your one night of freedom– see, Granny Ecker’s away on a weekend hotel stay in Indianapolis with one of her special friends from the Hawkins Senior Center. Which, on the one hand, gross, Eddie never ever wants to think about Granny Ecker getting lucky no matter how happy for her he is. But on the other, in the words of her beloved granddaughter–

“God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes!”

Eddie has stolen Granny’s usual spot, the kick-out recliner that seems to sag more with every movement. You and Ronnie are bunched onto the little two-seater together, with Ronnie shyly suggesting that you paint her nails (black, how totally hardcore)– now, Eddie knows this move. This is so she can distract herself from the bonafide creepiness of Black Christmas because while she tries to put on a brave face, Ronnie’s eyes for horror movies are way bigger than her stomach. She’s all nerves. It’s why she’s such a good drummer. 

As you’d predicted, by the time the movie ends and you all clear the six pack that Eddie had procured, Ronnie’s nodding off– but Eddie is determined to stay wide awake. You make a move off the couch and she grumbles, having narrowly avoided propping her head on your shoulder. You move to arrange her in such a way that she’s sleeping Nosferatu style, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I spent an awful lot of time on that polish and I won’t see it ruined, not on your account,” you chide, real quiet. Ronnie’s not listening, she’s pretend honk-shooing. Eddie, on the other hand, is. 

He likes you like this. You’re sweet to Ronnie, in your prickly little way– making her flustered with your misdirected flirting, bonding with her about things so far out of the realm of his male understanding. Being a girl with her. It’s occurred to him that Ronnie, in her testosterone-soaked world of current comrades, might actually need that. Like, she’s friendly enough with Jeannie and that Vickie girl from band, but they’re not people she’d go out of her way to make a case for so’s that Granny Ecker will let them stay for dinner. 

Which she’s done for you. Once or twice now. Which you’ve nervously accepted and even ruined your manicure for, by insisting on washing up the dishes. Eddie dried, because of course he did, because the Ecker trailer is the only place close to home that the two of you can hang out.

You’re, like– friends. 

Which is horrible.

Eddie tosses you a cold can of soda from the fridge. You catch it, hands basketing above your head.

“Power forward.”

“Cheerleader.”

You lean over to the TV to swap the tapes out, insistent on watching your dumb little black and white movie. As you do it, your skirt lifts a little bit and– 

Eddie’s gotta break eye contact. Stare at the floor for a second. Cock jumping like the fucking mole from whack-a-mole.

He almost hits it.

You bitch, are you wearing thigh highs?

“You need to pull trig, Munson?” he hears you from the kitchenette, clicking the video player’s play button. “You only had two beers.”

God, maybe. Was the room spinning? “Smoked a lotta weed today.” 

“Right. Lipton landing,” you smirk. Ronnie’s derisive little nickname for Reefer Rick’s place. “Are you gonna get over here and snore through my movie or not?”

I do not snore, or some muttering of a similar fashion comes out but he’s doing exactly what you tell him to do. He can’t help it. Brain function gone all freaky from that flash of flesh squeezed out the top of your– yeah. 

Eddie lands on the floor next to you with a little groan. Your eyes flick between him and the now-empty recliner. 

“What are you doing down here?” 

Oh. Busted. “I’m a gentleman, Lacy. Take the damn seat.” 

Your face screws up in that silly way it does whenever he talks sense to you but you don’t wanna hear it. Brat. “No. I like to sit right up near when it’s something I really want to watch.”

A shrug of your little shoulder as you wrap your arms around your knees like a kid. Face illuminated by the greyscale on the television. Skirt rucking back against the carpet. Fuck.

Eddie lets out an unsteady breath, crawling forward to lie on his tummy. Closer to you. “You’re gonna get square eyes if you keep doin’ that, dorko.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist…” but you say it in this half-hearted, distracted way, eyes on the screen.

“Y’know, if you–” Eddie starts, eyes on the lace top of your–yes indeedy–stockings.

“Shut up,” and you tap him on the shoulder. “I love this part.”

Your hand stays there as some fancily dressed chick totally eats shit in the bar of some hotel or something. Christmas presents flying everywhere as she falls. 

Women and children first, boys.

Say, what is the score anyway?

Oh, so it’s you he was after.

Hello, sugar.

Your hand stays there as you’re totally mouthing every single word, you true-blue nerd. Eddie, completely at a loss of how to react to this other than gaze, gaze, gaze at you, snaps his teeth at your hand. 

You, so completely embroiled in Nick and Nora’s white hot banter, gasp at the near-bite and swipe at his head. Eddie dodges the blow by rolling onto his back, hair fanning out on the Eckers’ rug. He grins up at you, and all of a sudden the rise and fall of his chest in that worn-out Alice Cooper shirt is very distracting. 

Pretty girl. 

Yeah, she’s a very nice type.

You got types?

Only you, darling–

“--lanky brunettes with wicked jaws,” you say, beat-for-beat with William Powell. 

“Talkin’ about me?” Eddie says, lips peeling back, eyebrows quirking.

“Not in your wettest, wildest dreams, Eddie Munson.” 

“Oh, you don’t wanna know what happens in those dreams. It’s filthy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s twisted. It’s disgusting.” 

“I bet.”

His hand is absent-mindedly stroking his chest, shifting the hem of that t-shirt up a little bit. Brushstrokes. You remember that? Eddie Munson has a happy trail like– 

“You’re so nice to me. It’s so fffffucking hot.”

“How wildly out-of-character,” you scoff, and he laughs, and you shift in your spot the teensiest bit. Eyes back on the screen, back to safety. 

From here, where he’s lying, Eddie has a fully illustrated view of the flash of skin up your skirt. Now that you’re not looking at him, he’s looking at it. Swallowing back saliva. Ignoring Nick and Nora. 

It’d be simple as pie to walk his fingertips along the rug and brush up against you there–oops–by accident or design. Feel how soft that skin is. Feel that heat radiating from your–

“It’s alright,” he hums, eyes flicking to the ceiling. Otherwise, all the blood’s gonna drain away from his head and he’s going to fucking die. “I know I’m not your type anyway.”

Your head lolls to your other shoulder, exposing a flash of your neck. It’s sorely missing a tongue running along it, he thinks, breath shuddering a touch. 

“You wouldn’t know my type if it hit you with an eighteen wheeler.”

“Can Steve Harrington drive an eighteen wheeler?”

Lolling your head back in the most exaggerated form of exasperation, you groan. “God. The way you talk about Harrington, I’m willing to put money on the fact that you have a crush on him.”

Eddie shrugs, hand resting on his sternum. You had your hand there once, you recall.

“I got prescribed one on the first day of freshman year, just like everybody else. But it wore off.”

“Sure about that?” Your eyes narrow.

“Sure as I am that I saw you makin’ googly eyes at him at the Family Video tonight.” Eddie crosses his own peepers for effect. Your attention darts back to the screen.

“I was not–”

“You can just say it, Lace.” His face is a twisty little smirk, if you’d care to look. “Regardless of how utterly pedestrian it might be.” That was a dig at you, by the way. That was an almost eerie impression of you. 

“The things I felt in seventh grade don’t really have a lot of gravitational pull on me anymore,” you shrug, not giving. Because, when you think about it, you don’t have to give. It was a baseless kind of thrill, seeing Harrington tonight. One hit wonder. “He’s a cute boy. Reminded me I have a pulse. Nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie’s quiet for a few seconds, flicks his eyes up to watch the TV from upside down. Nick places an ice pack on a drunken Nora’s head. 

Hmm… what hit me? 

The last martini.

He smiles as you smile, and he wonders if you’re thinking of the same thing he’s thinking of. 

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Funny you mention seventh grade…” Eddie trails off, tugging at the rug underneath him.

“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?” Your voice is distant again. 

“Little bit of both.”

“Why?”

Well, he thought you might be fucking with him, but– “... God, you really don’t remember, do you?”   

“Remember what?” He sees your brow pinch, he’s getting to ya.

“Not a fucking clue.” No give, no glory, eyes on the peeling ceiling. 

“Remember what?” You’ve snapped your neck and are looking down at him now, thirsty for him to fucking spill it already.

“Total–” he blows a raspberry, “--blackout before freshman year, right?”

“Eddie.”

His name makes him sit up. Pavlovian, sure, and he’s trying to deny the fact that he’ll do just about anything you say when you call him Eddie in that slightly-tinged sour way and not Munson like you’re writing him off. He’s trying to deny that. He swears.

“Nancy Wheeler’s thirteenth birthday party.” 

You two are shoulder to shoulder, him facing the couch, you facing the screen, his breath warming the bare skin of your off-the-shoulder top which is an insane thing to be wearing in the dead of fucking winter, but praise Jesus hallelujah you’re wearing it. Your expression is unimpressed. 

“... yeah?”

“We played Seven Minutes in Heaven.” He lays that out a little too plain for your liking. Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven at a thirteen year old’s birthday party is like the non-denominational Hora for pseudo-white bread Christian teenagers, at least in Hawkins. Everybody does that shit. But hold on.

“... you were there?”

“Fucking obviously, dimwit, that’s the setup to the whole story.” He sighs in a puff, and he’s very close to you. Chin almost on your shoulder like that night at the Quarry. “Tommy Hagan ripped into me for like, fifteen full minutes because my spin of the bottle landed on you.”

Confusion is a disease and you’re terminal. “That was… not you.” 

Insistence is a disease and Eddie’s fatal. “Yes. It so was.”

“That was John Hudson-Wasserman.”

“That was not–,” Eddie full on splutters, like slapstick splutters, reeling his head away from you, “you’re gonna get me confused with John Hudson-Wasserman? The guy who was like, pathologically obsessed with the Kennedy assassination? The guy who moved to Des Moines like, two weeks after that party?”

Then you’re spluttering back all of a sudden. Everything you two are doing is contagious. “His parents named him after John F., can you blame him? –actually, I can totally blame him, that was bizarre.”

“Lacy.” Well, the way he says that straightens your spine. “Use that pretty little brain to think for a second, huh? There’s one unmistakeable detail I bet I can get to jog your memory.”

But you’re already there. Activated. Like a sleeper cell. 

“Your hair was all buzzed off. You had that bandage on your head.”

“I did. And you asked me what was under it, and I said–”

A hole. They cut out a part of my brain so I’d be– The Wheeler’s linen closet was tiny and you were breathing in lavender detergent from all angles. 

The boy in front of you, scrawny and angry, had an aura around him like a firework. You knew it was dangerous, but you wanted to look closer. 

–less of a freak? you finished. Such was the accusation du jour for this kid. 

Less of a danger to society, he said, chest puffed. They let me keep it in a jar. Just in case shit gets really real and I need to shove it back in. 

You don’t quite know what to do with that. Like. He is so weird, and his hair is unevenly shaved and he’s got little cuts and scratches and scabs all over him. Like he’s been running through brambles. He looks like a kid someone found in the wild. 

Did you name it? you ask, finger drawing circles on a nearby towel. Your jar brain.

Eddie Junior, he told you, crossing his arms. 

Aren’t you already Junior? Shouldn’t it be Junior Junior? 

His jaw hardened. No. I’m Eddie. 

You nudged forward on your toes to get a better look at the bandage– he was taller than you. It lumped out of his head, unmissable. Nothing to be done about it. 

He seemed to cringe away from you. 

Don’t try anything, skank. 

You bounce back onto your heels. 

I wasn’t, asshole. We don’t have to do anything– just… like… did it hurt? 

He paused for a full ten seconds (you counted) and swallowed real hard. Eyes wide as hubcaps, and dark, and frightened. He craned his neck toward you a little. 

Then the door swung open, Tina Burton standing there hand-in-hand with an irritated-looking Steve Harrington. Time’s up, losers! 

Al hadn’t asked if it hurt, when he beat the crap out of him for doing something so stupid. Wayne hadn’t even asked if it hurt, when Eddie came back from the hospital like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

You were the first, and you were the last, and it was before everything. Before you were even Lacy.

“What happened, anyway?” you ask. Soft. Like that last time.

Now, in retrospect, Eddie sees the error of his ways.

“I lit all my hair on fire with a butane torch.” 

“You what?!” 

“It’s not– entirely my fault! I think I saw someone with hair on fire in an X-Men comic and I thought, y’know, that’s an achievable look.” That’s a severe understatement. It was Johnny Storm from The Fantastic Four and Eddie believed that he could be like Johnny Storm only more badass and maybe with like a sick motorbike. What, you’re telling me you didn’t go through a pre-teen-to-mid-teen phase where you were secretly convinced you had superpowers? Smarten up. 

“And how high–”

“Yeah, okay, I was also hitting a Reddi-Wip can like crazy.” The nitrous oxide did not help these delusions. 

“Why the big bandage?”

“Eh, I got some, like, bitsy little burn. Total overreaction.”

“Do you have a scar?” Before he can answer, you’re parting his hair, right near the place you remember that bandage being. Eddie freezes, your frigid fingertips searching his scalp. You are… very close. 

“Uh– no, I don’t.” He gulps, avoiding looking at you directly in your bright, curious little face. “Can I tell you something truly fucking dumb?”

“Wouldn’t be out-of-character for you, that’s for sure.” 

Deep, deep breath. Fucking shit fucking goddammit fuck. Balls. “I regret it.”

“The hair thing? Yeah, you’d think–”

“No. Not kissing you.”

“Oh.” Your hands drop from his skull but don’t exactly leave his hair. Just kind of wound in there, hovering, the way you feel like you’re hovering now. 

“You asked me if it hurt, and then I was gonna– but then, fucking Tina–” Eddie says, eyes dashing to you in these minute little glances. Away, back, away, back.

“Fuckin’ Tina,” you breathe. 

“--and Harrington.”

“Ah.” You shut your eyes. He didn’t notice you were wearing green eyeshadow until right now. “The square root of the problem.”

“Huh?” Barely heard it. Too busy looking at the glitter on your eyelids. The way your eyeballs shift around underneath.

“You’re totally lemon sour bitter with Harrington because you think he made you blow your shot with me.” You open your eyes with a squint.

“That is so not–” Break a spell, why dontcha! But then, Eddie takes a bite. “Actually, if you pop-psychology that, there might be somethin’ there, but… I regret it because I didn’t just–”

You cut in. “Go for it.”

“Shoot.” He confirms.

“Power. Forward.” You emphasize, lips curling.

“Cheer. Leader.” Eddie says, gravel in his voice.

Do you know that your hand is still in his hair? Like, are you physically aware of it? (Answer: no.)

Nick. Nicky?

What.

You asleep?

Yes.

Good. I wanna talk to you.

Your head swivels back from the screen. He watched you look away, dart your tongue out onto your lip, look back at him. 

“Eddie.” There’s fizz in your voice.

“Yes, Lacy.” He wonders what flavor. 

“I think…” and you finally extract your hand to lay it in your lap. Withdrawing, willing to be shot down, but you’re you and you know that you won’t be. “We could make a case for making up for lost time.”

Eddie’s mouth has become very dry. “... meaning that…”

“Eddie, I think that you should kiss me like a seventh grader– eighth grader? So weird, why did Wheeler have eight graders at her bir–”

“Lacy. Back on track, please,” which is another horrendously pin point perfect impression of you. And he needs to be sure that you just said what you just said and that isn’t the ghosts of Lipton landing talking.

“We should try it out. An honest-to-god, never-been-done-before Seven Minutes in Heaven kiss. I happen to think it’d fix something in you.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs.

“No, I’m serious!” And it is kind of fizzing out of you, and you might not be entirely just talking about him for this next part, “I think you’re holding onto a lot of pent up energy that may have just gotten even more pent since we became, y’know–”

“Zoo animals with parallel enclosures?” Eddie says with an arching eyebrow. 

“Wow,” you swallow a breath. “That really sounded like me.”

“I’m afflicted with a Lacyism from time to time.”

“Is that like astigmatism? Because you should get that looked at.”

“Who died and made you my optometrist?”

“Eddie.” Your voice, coming from your face, which is all dappled in the unserene technicolor glow of the Eckers’ Christmas lights, highlighted by the blaze of the black and white on TV. You make it look like stained glass. He would walk into oncoming traffic– “You trust me, right?” He would go and play on the freeway if you asked him to.

Eddie, Christ, he’s got to gather himself. Like the sweat gathering on his palms, he thinks, great work ethic, I need some of that. He gets a bright idea, brighter than those twinkling lights. “I think I need full authenticity in order to make this experience worth it.”

“What?”

“We need to find a closet.”

It’s pretty much a hard no on whether or not the Eckers have a linen closet (you’re a long way from Maple Lane now, babe), so it’s agreed that you’ll give Granny Ecker’s wardrobe a shot. You follow Eddie in there with tentative steps, like you can almost feel her watching all the way from the Best Western in Indianapolis she’s no doubt staying in. Trespassing is bad, yadda yadda, but it’s also exciting.

It’s exciting, being in here with him. 

He glances back at you, eyes a glimmer in the darkened bedroom. “After you,” and he flourishes a hand toward the open closet. 

You two are so not seventh graders anymore– heads bang against hangers, you’re kind of melting into a lot of denim and fleece and you… you don’t have much breathing room. No lavender detergent, just the beer-and-old-weed-sweet smell of Eddie Munson pushed close to flush against your chest. The scent of that shampoo you both use caught somewhere in the middle. 

Your breathing is so shallow, you feel like you might be having an asthma attack. You don’t have asthma. 

“Tight,” he says, and knits his brows, “I mean–”

“Cozy,” you correct, unsure of where to put your hands.

“We’re not cozy people.”

“So let’s do this,” you attempt to smooth your face into something resembling nonchalance, “Kiss me like a seventh-or-eighth grader, Eddie Munson.”

He clears his throat, shaking his head. A smile keeps flicking and dying on his lips. Heart about to burst out of his chest because of how weird this is, because of how weird you are, because of how– how– 

Eddie knits his fingers behind his back in an imitation of you, your girlish pose, and leans forward. About ninety percent, just in case you decide this was a stupid idea, or you don’t like the look of his face up close, or– or–

You close that perfect ten. Your lips feel like flower petals. Light. Baby-soft. Crushable.

It’s so chaste and it’s so innocent. It’s so the diametric opposite of the two of you, brash and harsh in your diverging, abstracting ways– waving only to meet in the middle. It’s pretty, like you are, and Thumper-from-Bambi-thumping-his-foot nervous like he gets around you.  

You pull away a fraction, and Eddie swallows a sound. To save face, he is about to say something– I give it a six or that’s what I’ve been missing out on this whole time or you flap that mouth an awful lot for someone who doesn’t know how to use it, something equally goading. Something that would make this… normal.

Until you take his bottom lip between yours. And it’s wet there. And it’s warm. And your lips are so, so crushable– 

Eddie’s fingers unweave and find your arms, find your waist. Slow, slow, he takes it slow because he could scare you and he doesn’t want to scare you. You’re curving into him, lips slicking against his, and then his tongue licking it’s way into your mouth which you just fucking open for him and it’s so good–

–and he tastes like salt and smoke and he holds you like he’s anchoring himself against you. Your hands wind on up, up, up his chest, catching on his t-shirt where his chest is (duh duh duh you fucking idiot), where his heart is thrumming under that smatter of a tattoo you got caught staring at that night in his trailer. It’s all you’ve got in you not to tug it up and off him, but Christ, no, because you need to keep kissing him. It’s so nice, it feels so nice, kissing him, when was the last time something felt as nice, that’s all you can think with sensation seeping through your body like a sugar rush. Hands move to either side of his neck and he makes a noise. 

Your fingers, fishing hooks in his hair, pulling him closer and closer to you. 

The heat. Of his body. Matched only by the heat gathering in the cherry pit that lives in your stomach. 

And he needs, god, Eddie needs it fucking bad. It is a lot of things. It includes your tongue so far inside his mouth that you can taste the Tab on his uvula this time. It includes more of your tits pressed against him, so he can feel if your nipples have hardened under his touch. It includes this moment, just this moment, just kissing you as your body winds around him–

But then you pull back. Before he can whisper the little, “No…” that’s coming like a reflex, you cover his mouth with your hand. The mouth that’s all slick from kissing– you. 

Jesus Christ. You had really done that. The stupid, idiot both of you. 

“Guys?”

Eddie, dizzy and down-the-rabbit-hole tipsy Eddie, gets the impulse to lick your hand, to take your fingers in his mouth and just start sucking, but he doesn’t do it. Because he has now snapped to the fact that that’s Ronnie Ecker calling out for you. 

The two of you, twisted around each other like snakes in her grandmother’s closet. 

“Go,” you hiss– no, you breathe. He was just expecting you to hiss. But you’re breathy and unsure about the command you’re giving. Still, you jerk your head. 

Well, Eddie’s pretty hard up about telling you this, but, “Can’t. Need a sec–” Like, can’t you feel that?

Eddie’s standing more than half to attention, pressing in between the both of you. 

You let out a jagged breath that sounds like oh, fuck, and it’s not the kind of oh, fuck he was hoping to hear and his heartbeat stutters. 

And then you’re gone. 

Eddie stands there, hands held aloft around the ghost of you that was there, that was right there and kissing him. Like you meant it, like it wasn’t an experiment or a joke or a dare or anything other than what you wanted. You wanted him. You wanted him. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he breathes into his hands, dragging them down his face, his lips, the smell of you still lingering around him. “Oh… I am so fucked.”

Kentucky fried fucked. 

You make your way back to the living room on trembly legs, reaching for every steadying surface, attempting to destroy the evidence of a swollen mouth and Munson-finger ruffled hair. You find Ronnie sitting upright on the couch. Nick and Nora have nearly solved the case. You don’t give yourself enough time to make a mask of your face that could easily lie to her. 

“Munson had to pull trig,” you say, and it’s not steady enough for Ronnie to not call bullshit.

But she doesn’t. Not outright anyway.

“He okay?” she asks, nearly wary.

“I don’t know. Could be comin’ out of both ends, I don’t know,” you start scrambling around for your bag and your shoes and your coat and not your right mind because you left that back in the closet, somewhere between Eddie’s teeth and tongue. “Look, I hate to ditch on you, but my mom–”

“She’ll be on your ass,” Ronnie says, measured like a cup. “Sure. Go on. I’ll think about calling 911 if he chokes.”

Breathing out some piss-poor rendition of a thanks, you dip out of Ronnie’s and past his van and all the way back the lot towards home. 

It’s freezing. You’re not. For once.

When Eddie finally reappears from the closet, Ronnie is sitting in the exact same position. Except this time she looks somewhat judgier– maybe because it’s easier to be judgier toward Eddie than it is toward you. Some kind of girl politico he doesn’t understand. 

“You feel better?”

“Huh?” Eddie says. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Do you feel better. Lacy told me you had to barf.”

“I… I guess.” Eddie has already cashed in his once-in-a-lifetime lie convincingly to Ronnie Ecker voucher. 

“She also told me you maybe shit yourself?”

Alright, well, that was unnecessary. “Alright, well, that was unnecessary.”

“I guess I was just hoping that…” she sighs, crossing her arms, “... that you weren’t puking and shitting yourself…” she sits back against the couch, “... when you were making out with her. In my… bathroom?”

He really does consider leaving out this detail. “Granny’s closet.”

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

“She’ll know. She’ll kill me.”

“Oh, she’ll kill ya,” Ronnie mutters, “And then I’ll go to work on ya.”

—

You two have got to stop fucking each other over like this.

Fucking each other over, conceptually, actually, is interesting. Because Eddie’s done a whole lot of fucking you over in his mind since that closet. Sliding your panties aside and fucking you with his tongue, polyester lace of your stockings creating static against his hair, sparks snapping off your inner thighs as you rub against his nose. 

Following you back to your trailer and fucking you with his fingers against the cold, metal exterior, your nails digging into his neck and your voice stabbing his name into his eardrums. 

Pulling you into his lap in the driver’s seat and tearing through the cotton of your underwear with sheer animalistic fervor, making you lean back against the steering wheel as he sucks your tightened nipples, cock safe and warm in the slick, deep wet of you. 

Somethin’ like that. He didn’t sleep much this weekend.

Mind stuck on the one track, your lips smacking against his. Now in fabulous 3D!

In every single one of these fantasies, too, his idiot sap ass is whining your name fifty billion times more than you’re whining his– so much so that it breaks the fantasy barrier and he’s crying, “Fuck, Lacy-yy–,” into his limp pancake of a pillow, cum careening down a fist that should have nerve damage by now. 

He is exhausted. And to make it worse, he hasn’t seen you. 

He hasn’t even been avoiding you this time. So that’s all on you, you bitch.

“You bitch…” he mumbles, head resting against the cold brick of the newly-unisex senior bathroom, which has become a hellhole in no time. First period on a Monday is usually an okay time to get a bit of peace and fucking quiet, though, because everyone else is at least making an attempt at starting the week off on the right foot. 

But not Eddie. Not worn out, prick-tired Eddie. 

And not whoever is doing a horrible job of hyperventilating in the stall next to him. 

“Excuse me?” a breathless voice says. He thinks he kinda recognizes it but–

Then, ew! Some gagging, some violent coughing, a little ugh, Jesus, please not again–

Eddie slides out of his stall and knocks on the next door– and it swings open with ease. 

She’s crouched over the cistern–gross, fucking gross–and tears are streaming down her peachy cheeks, catching on her pointed chin. 

“Christ, Wheeler. S’matter, you pregnant?”

Nancy Wheeler’s eyes flash in a flare of rage, a choked scoff spitting out of her. She’s about to fucking cuss Eddie out, it looks like, which he kind of wants to see, but then whatever straw that’s holding that together snaps and she lets out this wild sob of total incredulity. 

Ohhh, as much as he would love to bolt out the door like it’s not his problem, Eddie realizes that this has now, somehow, somewhat become kind of his problem. 

—

“I gotta talk to you.” 

Ronnie Ecker appears like a lightning flash, knocking you clean out of your reverie of slowly crawling fingers and lips and teeth and guilt that had been plaguing you all weekend. 

You had spent most of the last forty eight hours staring into the middle distance, ready to glue upright nails into your shoes and walk on them for penance. You fucking stupid slut. Kiss me like a seventh-eighth grader, Eddie Munson. You unbelievable fucking cowshit. See, because, okay, do you know what you’ve done?

You’ve taken the first real friendship you’ve possibly ever had in your life (save for Phoebe, God rest her soul that moved to Saskatoon) and completely entirely fucked it sideways, and sure, you’ve also spent a lot of the weekend thinking about other things getting fucked sideways, like you since you’re now cursed with the knowledge of the vague suggestion of the outline of Eddie Munson’s dick but moreso, foremostly and mainly you want to fucking take a swandive off the edge of Sattler’s Quarry. 

Addendum– there’s too many quarries in this fucking county. 

A ping-ponging of guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-orgasm-to-guilt-to-slinking your way to first period the long way that’s only now broken by Ronnie Ecker coming down on you like an Acme anvil.

Meep meep.

She knows. Of course she knows.

“Ronnie,” you whisper, eyes following her as she lands herself into the aforementioned Munson’s seat behind you, “I can explain…”

“Don’t!” There is this vigor, this knife’s edge in Ronnie’s voice that is terrifying and kind of thrilling but mostly scary and having been in the presence of Granny Ecker even those few times, you knew she always had it in her. 

You recoil. A little.

“If Eddie wants to be a fucking moron about you, please can we just let him, and not–” Ronnie’s mouth clamps closed like a Muppet’s might. Like she’s physically trying to calm herself down. “Look. I really like being your friend.”

Oh, Christ, your heart. “I r– I–”

“You’re dogshit with the emotional stuff, I get that, but I’ve been friends with that asshole so long that wearing my heart on my sleeve is like, second fucking nature so I’m not and I’m pissed off, frankly, that there’s a chance of him coming between, like… us.”

You and Ronnie. You, and your friend Ronnie. “Oh, it’s–”

“Because technically, by absolute technicality, I was your friend first, okay? We were lab partners first and I thought we had a vibe goin’ in Biology and I was the first person you wanted to talk to at the Hellfire table even if it was a thinly veiled ploy but you’re so good at ploys and you’re such a piece of work and you’re so funny and I wouldn’t know what Ponds cold cream actually does if it wasn’t for you. Fuck.”

“Granny’s a soap and water girl.” There’s a fluttering in your chest and a thickening in your throat. You swallow big, and you think you might actually start– “This doesn’t mean I’m gonna try fencing, Ron.”

“But it’s fucking cool, even if we do it with sticks.”

You take her in, baseball cap shoved over her coiled hair, darned-all-to-hell sweater sagging out under her overalls and you really feel like something is about to bust out of your chest. Your honest-to-god friend, Ronnie Ecker. 

“Miss Ecker, last time I checked, that’s not your assigned seat.” God, Kaminsky’s such a relentless dickwad.

“I’m having a conversation,” Ronnie says, with the kind of as-yet-unheard volume from her that makes the rest of the class go ooooh!

Jesus fucking Christ, have you turned Ronnie Ecker into a bad girl?

“I don’t give a shit!” rumpled Kaminsky says, slapping that dusty chalkboard duster full of dust, “Have it in detention.”

“Hey! That’s–”

But if you can do one thing for Ronnie. “No can doozy, Mr K, Miss Ecker has a prior commitment.” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, not you again,” he mumbles not-quite-under his breath. “And what is that? Lacy?”

Before you can even say the words peer tutoring, none other than Eddie Munson is barrelling through the door. He stops comically short at the top of the classroom, gesturing to Ronnie in his seat like what the fuck? 

“Lacy!” he eventually says, and he’s breathless and flustered and just like you imagined him in–

“Munson, what in the name of the goddamn Father Almighty–”

“Weekly Streak–” and guy is just snapping his fingers, blinking wildly at you, “–thing!”

You stare on in a state of confusion until you spy Nancy Wheeler right in your eyeline, right through the open classroom door. Her little face streaked with tears, and god, she looks like shit, and she’s beckoning to you with a flutter and a fury. 

“No, of course!” a little murmuring, uh, shit, and you hurry to the top of the classroom, slamming the homework that Kaminsky’s obviously going to ask for on his desk with a rattle. 

“Kaminsk, my man, the future of print media is forever in your debt!” Eddie calls, ushering you out the door and into the echoey hallway. 

“What is going on?”

Both Eddie and Nancy shuffle you down the hallway, avoiding the monitors (rat finks!), dipping under the east stairwell. A great stairwell. So much illicit shit has happened in this stairwell and you have an itemized list of it all, somewhere in your brain. The kind of person people tell things to.

Nancy’s just full tilt gulping like a fish out of water, and Eddie’s all, “Wait, shit, are you gonna barf again?” and you’re all, “Answers, please, tout suite!”

“I’m late.” Nancy’s voice doesn’t even tremble. She’s that scared.

“Fuck.”

“Very?”

“Extremely.”

“You’re sure?” you press, and suddenly you’re the kind of person that grabs Nancy Wheeler’s shoulders. 

Her lip trembles. “I mean, I haven’t–” 

“Well, we gotta. Right now.” And it occurs to you that Eddie is just standing there, a polite enough distance away that he’s involved but kind of not involved, but respecting the space that you two need. How does he know how to do that? How does he always know the right… “Eddie.” 

He snaps to attention, mouth all serious and eyes all eager. You want to kiss him again, but this shit is not about you. 

“We need a ride to the drugstore.” 

The three of you pile into Eddie’s van, him insisting on doing the honors of opening the passenger door for you again, and Nancy quietly requesting that you share the passenger seat with her. You two are squished together, her spindly thighs overlapping yours. Denim versus dark suede. There is a very tense silence in place the entire van ride there, Nancy digging her nails into her palm and Eddie nervously thrumming against the steering wheel. The tape deck plays resumes mid-play– Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. 

For your part, you experience a harsh zoom-out moment– Nancy, who you’ve learned is almost as strong-headed as you, just on a better moral track (lawful good versus chaotic neutral, you think Eddie once framed it), is stranded. She’s the eldest sibling to that little shitstain Michael and Holly, who’s a baby so to you has no discernible personality, and her mother is kind of an airhead and her father… you don’t know shit about, but it’s Hawkins, so dads. The responsibility of everything seems to fall on her all the time, and you can only be so resourceful as a teenage girl in a town like this. Especially when the other teenage girls seem to, at best, keep you at arm’s length, or at worst, ostracize you. 

And Nancy had lost Barbara Holland. Who, when she mentions her, is talked about with such a glow that’s followed by such a wave of sadness that it nearly takes you under too.

She misses her so much. She misses her best friend so much. 

Barb should be the one dealing with this. Not you. Which sounds like you’re shirking responsibility. But really, it’s because you don’t know if you fully deserve the privilege of helping Nancy. 

Truth is, Nancy would probably be okay, handling this on her own. Sure, it’d be another inch of depth added to the chasm of loneliness building in that poor girl’s psyche, but she’d do it, because she’s Nancy and she handles things.

Just like you’re Lacy and you handle things. 

But however Eddie Munson ended up as part of this situation… he brought her to you. Because he knew you’d know what to do. So she wouldn’t have to do it alone. 

Because Eddie doesn’t want people to do things alone. 

You only really have that impulse if you know how terrible it feels. 

And if you don’t see kindness as a weakness.

Which Nancy doesn’t. And Eddie doesn’t. And you… don’t want to, anymore.

You reach and peel Nancy’s fingernails from the grooves they’re digging into her flesh. You don’t even look at the half-moon marks they’ve made. You just glue her palm to your palm and web your fingers. And over the frizz of Nancy’s perm–the nice kind, salon kind, the kind that doesn’t stink of egg–you look at Eddie, just as he glances at you.

He smiles, small and unsure and wavering. You bite your lips between your teeth and try the same. 

“Shit, I don’t think I can go in here.” 

The van has skidded into an inconspicuous (but not entirely, because have you seen that fucking vehicle) place near the drugstore.

“Why?”

“People– the pharmacist knows my mom and everything,” Nancy shudders, “There’s no way that people won’t have something to– fucking say.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and you give him a look like, welcome to the Nancy Wheeler Actually Swears Club. Care for a canape?

And y’know, you could argue so what. So what if people have something to say. You’re young, mistakes happen, the world keeps turning. But one skip in a perfect twelve-inch record of reputation like Nancy’s can make her life a living hell. You know that. 

Shit, she knows that– you weren’t not aware of that stroke of creative genius vandalism that went up on the Hawk marquee that one time.  

And it would shatter Nancy’s mom’s heart. And while you don’t have the same time of day for her, Nancy really loves her mom. 

Once you’ve ruined your reputation, you can live quite freely. 

That moveable feast motherfucker was onto something. 

Click, and Eddie’s glovebox pops open in a clatter of tapes and a one-hitter and other ephemera. You reach in, retrieving sunglasses you’d left in here a little bit ago. 

“So let’s give ‘em something to talk about,” you say, sliding on the shades. 

Nancy clutches your arm, eyes wide and searching. “Lacy.”

You shrug, like it’s nothing. Except nerves have started nibbling at you. “Spot me a ten. What am I, a goddamn Rockefeller?”

“Not anymore,” Eddie Munson grins at you. Sun breaking through the bleak midwinter. The nerves cease their nibbling. 

—

The tension doesn’t exactly ease when you make a beeline for the drugstore (particularly because you’ve just accepted a goddamn miniature hero’s quest and he’s a little… well, he’s not not watching your ass as you walk away, let’s put it that way). 

Eddie and Nancy Wheeler are still absolutely enormous universes apart. Not even the same species. He doesn’t mind keeping it that way. This right here is just, like… the right thing to do. 

He moves to turn the radio down, figuring that the thrum of Fade to Black might be a little much for her right now. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for–”

“No, it’s okay.” Wheeler smiles that flat, priss smile reserved for the barest of polite gestures. 

Eddie nods, propping his elbow against the window, cupping his face in his hand. He keeps kind of sneaking sidelong glances toward Wheeler, because– well, had you told her anything? About… Seven Minutes in Heaven? Does she even remember that, from her birthday party all that time ago? He knew that you two weren’t exactly tight, but were well on your way to getting tight, but not as tight as you are with Ronnie and certainly not as tight as you are–or were–with him and Jesus Christ almighty, he’s got to find a synonym for the word tight.

“You… play Dungeons and Dragons, right?” Wheeler asks all of a sudden.

Eddie glances down– he is in fact wearing his Hellfire shirt. She’s a sharp one, that Nancy.

“I dabble,” he says, a derisive little chuckle that’s not all-the-way mean spirited.

Wheeler bobs her head. “My brother, Mike,” she says, and he sees now that it’s an effort to keep her nerves steady, “he loves it. Like, he’s totally obsessed. Him, and his friends, they’ve got their own little party going. Majorly long campaigns, very involved.” 

“Campaigns, parties. Using terminology like that, I’d say you’re something of a dabbler, Wheeler.”

Nancy chuckles. “I– may have dressed up as an elf for one. Or two. When I was way, way younger, though.”

“Well, your brother– Mike?” Eddie checks and Nancy nods, “Once he gets to high school, why dontcha tell him to look up Hellfire. Could be the best-worst decision he’ll make for the next four years of his life.”

“Right, because you’ll be passing the torch,” she says, grinning.

“And possibly to a Wheeler. Oh my stars and garters,” Eddie gasps, clutching his chest in mock-shock. 

Wheeler laughs and, okay, maybe she’s not so bad.

“Shoot, we have movement.” And out you come, holding the Advance pregnancy test over your head, gleaming and victorious– but Eddie and Nancy flap their hands, willing you to put that fucking thing away! We’re being subtle!

Climbing back in the van, you announce, “Alright, so the good news– no doctoral interference, obviously. The wonders of modern medicine, everybody give thanks to Johnson and Johnson, et cetera. The bad news– who knows of somewhere we can steal–” you glance back at the box, “--thirty glorious uninterrupted minutes of time?”

“Lacy, I can just–” Nancy starts, but you stop her short with a tap to the head. 

“And have you sitting in class all day with your guts churning because you don’t know what’s up or down that spout? I think the fuck not. We’re doing this now.” This is out of the goodness of your heart, you swear it is. 

But there might be a fraction, just a generous sliver, that still loves the drama. 

Like Steve Harrington, it’s not an immediate shed of the ego. It’s a slough. 

“Well, my place is a no-go,” Nancy tells you, shrugging into herself. “My mom will definitely be home.”

“Ditto,” and your mother is the only person you know that loves gossip more than you do. Besides Eddie, of course. 

After a beat or two of wondering silence, Eddie raises a hand. “I may… have someplace… we can go.”

—

How many cherry bombs does it take to make a boy’s bathroom look like the bombing of Dresden?

“So fuuun fact, turned out that some nerd swiped a hunk of sodium from the Chemistry lab and just blew this mother to shit,” Eddie brightly informs you and Nancy as the two of you pour over the instructions for the pregnancy test kit. 

“While everyone was distracted by Heather Holloway’s implants, you mean?” you murmur, scanning over the small-sheet size booklet.

“Streets are saying she was an accomplice.”

Holy fuck, these instructions were involved. Nancy stands clutching the little rectangular tray that her pee is supposed to go in, nailing Eddie with a look beyond normal categorical nerves. “You’re sure no one’s gonna come in here?” 

He shakes his head. There might as well be police tape all over the door of this bathroom, that’s how off limits it is. “It’s cold, it’s broken, it smells gross. Maybe some people are using this place to huff paint, but I can guarantee, Wheeler–” and he bends a little to meet her earnest eyes, “--I will bark like a fucking rabid dog to clear ‘em away if I need to.” 

Nancy nods shortly. Jerk, jerk. She disappears into the least dilapidated stall with her pee rectangle. 

“God, she is so scared,” Eddie murmurs to you, crossing his arms. 

You’re still studying the instructions. This shit has droppers and test tubes and color changing strips, oh my. “Pissing shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

Wrong.

“Guys.”

“Yes?” “Yeah, Wheeler?”

“I’m a little, ahem–” Bladder shy. Perfect. Awesome. Not that you guys aren’t going to be shacked up here for thirty minutes anyway, but that’s only after Nancy Wheeler goes number one and you, like, mix up the pregnancy oracle potion. 

Shit. “We’ve gotta do something to like, make her chill out–” Eddie half-mouths at you. 

“Yeah, but she’s so high strung, that’s like–” a spark hits you. “Wait, have you got anything on you?”

“Fresh out. Waiting on a shipment from Lipton landing.” 

You smack him, not even thinking, and he winces. “And all that shit you were smoking the other day, that was–” “That was market research, babe, and I told you that–”

Nancy clears her throat from inside the stall. “Please, don’t quit bickering on my account. I’m only trying to figure out whether or not I need to start rehearsing lullabies.” 

Damn Nancy, Eddie mouths and you almost laugh. Wait.

“Nance, what’s your favorite song?” 

“Huh?”

You shake your hands. “Like, the song you absolutely cannot go without hearing? The one that makes you feel, just–”

“Ticklish?” Eddie suggests, the paragon of knowledge, the pinnacle of your annoyance. You thump him again. “I need a safe word.”

“Um– uh…”

“C’mon, Wheeler, the song that makes you feel just… awesome and chill and on top of the fucking world, c’mon!” Eddie encourages, kicking detritus around the bathroom floor.

Nancy eventually, eventually mumbles something. 

You pivoting around on your heel by the sink. “Louder, Wheeler, I wasn’t born with sonar.”

“It’s– it’s ‘Just What I Needed’.”

What? Eddie mouths to you, arms binding across his chest. 

“What, like– The Cars, ‘Just What I Needed’?”

A pause from Nancy’s end. “... yeah.”

You know this song. You know that song, right, it’s like duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-DEW… Shaking yourself out, you brace up like a boxer heading into the ring. 

“Gimme a lead in, Nancy.” Holy fucking shit, you’re really doing this. Nancy hesitates, probably because she can’t believe any of you are really doing this. 

A mumble… “I don’t mind you comin’ here…”

“--and wastin’ all my time!” you jump in, “”cause when you’re standin’ oh so near, I kinda lose my mind…” 

Visions of a plush lilac bedroom, yours, and a mountain of clothes and makeup and drained wine cooler bottles on the floor. You, standing on your bed in your socks and shorts, vamping– Tina and Carol singing hairbrush backup, Nicole on air guitar and Cass smoking out the window. There were flashes of this, you know, when it wasn’t all boiling vitriol and subtle shivving and one-up-manship. When you and those girls that you wished you weren’t near but knew you needed actually felt like friends. 

A memory like that makes you feel empty. 

“It’s not the perfume that you wear,” oh my god, “It’s not the ribbons–in–your–hair,” is he really, “And I don’t mind you comin’ here– and wastin’ all my time!”

Why the fuck does Eddie Munson know this song?! Your jaw drops open, your eyes go wide and your feet stamp against the tile like a goddamn kid. Yes! Yes! Amazing! You’re both so fucking out of tune, like there is absolutely a reason he does not sing a single note in Corroded Coffin but by god alive, you’re giving it everything you got in that fucked up boy’s bathroom. 

Eddie’s so much better at it than you are, pouring every bit of obnoxious showmanship into it that he possibly can– complete with pulling you in for a fully nonsensical dance number. You spin into him, crashing into his chest with a clumsiness you never thought possible, laughing so hysterically that you can barely get the words out. He’s holding the reins, and holding that falsetto so badly you think the mirrors will shatter. 

Your skin is buzzing, your heart is hammering and Eddie is pressed against your back and you are both scream-singing to the door of Nancy’s cubicle– “I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed! I needed someone to feed– I guess you’re just what I needed! Just what I needed I needed someone to–”

“Pee! Pee, you guys, I’m peeing!” Nancy’s voice, bright and high from actually laughing, rings from the busted toilet. 

You and Eddie erupt into a triumphant yell, him shaking you like a rag doll against him. The laughter peels away and then it’s just kind of him, looking at you from over your shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around your waist. His lips, a little cracked. Breath a little labored. Lashes still so long. You nearly–

The door flings open and he jumps away from you first. Nancy heads toward the sink and you resume the position, helping her figure out the Chemistry play set that holds the answer to how the rest of her life pans out. Thirty whole minutes, they’ve got to wait. 

Nancy notes the time on her watch. 

She even suggests that you guys can go at one point, but Eddie reminds her that a) he’s keeping an eye out for paint huffers and b) “... y’know, maybe it’s not so great to…” “Do this on your own,” you finish for him. Nancy nods, silent and grateful and so fucking nervous. 

At about the seventeen minute mark, when you and Eddie have smoked four cigarettes each and Nancy has tried a puff of one (“Nope,” she hacks, “still totally vile…”), Eddie tosses this stink bomb between you two. Nancy has excused herself to stand with her head against the cubicle door. Something about calming her nerves. Coming up with a plan. Something to tell Steve, no doubt. 

So it’s just you and Eddie, you sitting on the edge of the sink and Eddie rhythmically kicking the wall. 

“You ever wanna be a mom?”

“Jesus, what a time to land that one on me.” You almost make a joke like you haven’t even stuck it in me yet, but that’s in bad taste. And implies a yet. 

Eddie smiles over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes. Stupid. Stupid eyelashes. “Grounds of relevance.”

You pinch your lips between your teeth. “... fine. But, I fully reserve the right to change my answer given the fact that we are eight-shitting-teen years old.”

He points to the cubicle and mutters, “Well, she’s seventeen.”

You, wide-eyed at his dumbassery, mouth I know!

“Okay. Sorry. Go.”

“Fuuuuuck no. No babies pour moi, merci, c’est bon, au revoir!”

Eddie turns to lean against the wall, propping one leg up. God, but he does lean great. 

“Why?”

“Genetic fate.”

“Huh?”

A sigh flutters out of you, shoulders slumping forward. “A certain… how do you say, thread of assholery runs through my family, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” 

Eddie nods sagely and you kind of want to punch him for it. “Daddy issues. Right.”

“Uh!” A hand flies up in your defense. “Let who among us here without them cast the first stone.”

From the cubicle, Nancy calls, “Not me.”

Surrendering, Eddie grumbles, “Yeah, not me either.”

“Glad we agree.”

There’s another tick and tock of silence, and you get the distinct feeling of something being pried open in the atmosphere. 

“... whatever happened with your dad, anyway?”

Ah. The million dollar question. Whatever happened with your dad, so-called upstanding member of the Hawkins community, poor little poor boy done rich, scaling his way up the ladder of property management in this delightful little Midwestern enclave?

“Not a big fan of the news, are we, Munson?”

He seems to grimace at you tugging on his surname. “Print’s too small.”

“Taking offense to that,” Nancy chimes. 

“It was the big ‘E’,” you say, kind of not into bantering about it. 

“‘E’... ‘E’... ‘E’...” Eddie kicks the wall on each utterance. Possibly forgetting that he could also be the big ‘E’, if he wanted. You wonder if, just in terms of size…

“Embezzlement, Eddie,” you cut that thought off cold. 

His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting under his shaggy bangs. “Shooooot.”

“Score.”

“What all did he, like… embezzle?”

The raising of the hackles is not entirely intentional. “Y’know who’d be able to answer that question, Eddie?”

But he sees it. He calms it. In unison, you both shrug, “Al Munson.”

Boom! Cubicle door flies open again. You’re starting to think that Nancy might just love making an entrance. Lot of flourishing happening here. Not entirely unlike Eddie in that way. 

“It’s time.” 

Each and every one of you beeline to where the test is set up on one of the sinks. Nancy gingerly plucks the offending strip from the test tube and Eddie, a man with money on his mind, asks another million dollar question. “So how do you know…”

You grab the instruction leaflet that you’d been tearing corners off of, making it look nearly moth-bitten. “Wait, it’s white, right?”

“It’s white,” Nancy whispers.

“It’s not, like… off blue, or…”

“No, that is white,” she’s trembling. “Is white– is that good, or– I can’t remember.”

“Nancy Wheeler…” you breathe, peeking over the paper, “Congratulations. You are nobody’s mother!” 

She emits a shriek like nothing you’ve ever heard and barrels straight into you, near knocking you off your feet with a strength you didn’t know this little waif was capable of possessing. Her arms wrap boa constrictor tight around you, her words bubbling over like a shook up can of pop. “Jesus Christ, I’m so relieved, I just– I–!”

“You’re relieved?!” Eddie yells, ringed hands tearing down his face, “I’m way too young to be an uncle! Fuck! Thank god!”

Nancy chokes out a laugh through her tears, tears of relief, thank god and– and you don’t know if it’s selfish and you don’t know if it’s possible but you hope… you hope that’s helped close the chasm. Just a little bit. That she didn’t have to do this all alone in a shithouse bathroom that smells like sulfur and piss. 

Breaking away from you (damn, you wish you knew how to hug), Nancy straightens herself up. Not that she needs to. She’s a pretty crier, that bitch. 

“Just one more thing, you guys.” 

“Anything,” you say before you even know you’ve said it. 

“This is… between us, okay?” her eyes dart from you to Eddie, and you both take a step closer to her. Ceremoniously, Nancy holds out her two pinkie fingers. You link. Eddie links. His finger looks comically large compared to hers– and yours, when he reaches and hooks it around your unsuspecting baby finger. 

“No one can know. No one needs to know.” There’s that headstrong Wheeler reserve you’d been missing. 

“Cross my heart,” you proclaim.

“Hope to d– well, I don’t hope to die, that’s a little dramatic–”

“Eddie!” you both bark, varying degrees of amusement. Yours is on the lower end. “Swear on something real,” you push. 

He hesitates a moment, then gives Nancy a look. “Alright. Swear on Hellfire.” 

“Swear on Hellfire,” Nancy grins all tight, and kisses her right hand, hooked into Eddie’s finger. “Lacy?”

“Swear on Hellfire…” You mumble, rolling your eyes and kissing your Nancy’d hand. You need to swallow, first, before you tug your hand that’s hooked into Eddie’s toward your mouth. 

And he does the worst thing. He leans down to meet your gaze, suckering you right in as his lips pout. They’re hungry. You’ve met those lips. “Swea-aar,” he sing-songs. 

“--on Hellfire, okay,” you scoff, half-laughing into the little kiss. 

“Ha!” Eddie barks, so fucking loud that it jumps off the walls. “Trick! You just made a deal with the devil, ladies, so I hope you enjoy eternal damnation at the hands of yours truly!”

Dumb as he is, Eddie might be right. If the way you’re looking at him is anything to go by.

author's notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS MOTHERFUCKERS. WE GOT IT WE DID IT WE MADE THEM KISS WE MADE THEM REALIZE SOMETHINGS NOT ALL THE THINGS SURELY BUT IT'S. IT'S SOMETHING. IT'S A START! on to the fun bits, like the jokes in the christmas crackers - absolutely obsessed with the mental image of eddie munson's bangs grown too long and he looking like this - cherry bombs down the john is a reference to the classic prank but mostly to american graffiti my beloved. later in the chapter, eddie says that some kid just threw some sodium down there which is something i read about on this reddit thread when researching cherry bombs. domestic terrorism at hawkins high! - p.t. barnum is that mfer that the greatest showman is based on. horrible man! not a fan! - heather holloway's jayne mansfield titties got me thinking about the jayne mansfield-sophia loren photo which has its own wikipedia page??? anyway, lacy coded! - black christmas is a stunning christmas horror film from 1974, which is loosely in part based on a bunch of murders that happened in the westmount neighborhood in montreal, quebec. fun fact, i just moved back from mtl after living there for a year. anyway black christmas kicks ASS - lipton landing is 100% a juno reference. big up my king elliot page - the thin man is one in a series of fantastic lil films from the 1930s all about nick and nora charles, a married couple that get drunk and SOLVE CRIMES. i'm not doing it justice by describing it that way but myrna loy and william powell are the royals of married banter and i model everything i write after their rhythm, more or less. - you're trying to tell me eddie munson didn't do whippets as a kid fucking wise up - one of my personal precious favourite recurring jokes in this series is 'who died and made you my x' and baby. i love a recurring joke - ronnie saying "oh she'll kill ya. then i'll go to work on ya," is a special reference because a) it's from my favourite film of all time, ocean's eleven and b) ayo edebiri, who i've fancast as ronnie ecker, has an ocean's eleven tattoo. we are sisters and also wives! - meep meep! - all i could think about when writing about how guilty lacy was - another metallica needle drop!!!! - pregnancy tests in the 80s really were that insane and involved! there's a great scene in glow (rest in fucking PEACE! gone but never forgotten) of alison brie's character using one, and here's more of the history - maybe the best needle drop of this whole series imo - finally peeped into those daddy issues. look forward to more of that and with that my hellcats, i wish you the merriest of holiday seasons wherever you find yourself and whatever you're doing. i will be back after the christmas break because i have to fully wreck my bank account and see every single person i have ever known and drink every espresso martini on dry land. sorry if there's typos in this, i have been labouring over it for... ever. reblogs, comments, likes and asks are always appreciated and i love you so much it's bordering on criminal! thank you!!!!

[py-dreamer]

Yea!!! Can you tell I have favorites lol

so since it's the 20th in my time, it is officially my birthday today!

But I wanted to get this out regardless so kinda count it as the previous day's ig

I will be posting something later today probably but it will most likely just be a compilation of all the cakes I've done thus far.

Ok but um on with the cake!

It's like a cheesecake and I basically copied Tengen's cake with like a jelly filling with fruit suspended in it, peaches (obviously), strawberries and blueberries cause I like them and sod it I'll put them on this goddamn cake!

The thing Wukong's sitting on is one of those peach ice creams that's gotten so popular lately with the sprinkle of pink dust thingy on top.

On either side of the cake is the fillet from the journey and the hat from the brotherhood era, one from his reckless past and one from his redemption and I just think that's neat.

The blue puffy stuff is meant to be his nimbus clouds represented as cotton candy.

I have the baiju jar in there as reference to Wukong becoming immortal again due to the all the wine made from the peaches of immortality at the festival.

The staff as a little candle was so fun! And I like pocky so I chucked them on there to fill space and it looks good so sue me

The grey thing behind the staff and balloon is meant to be the Buddha's hand that trapped him under the mountain and a reference to his imprisonment under 5 phases mountain.

Peach popsicle! Of course I had too! A lil something from the present for our (shadow) peachy friend

Mk's stone as well, had to add his son in there too. The baby ever.

(probably just a cookie but it's the thought that counts)

The two sugar cookies are meant to be his logo (aka the lmk logo) and fireworks, again taken from Tengen's cake.

The sun is a candied/tanghulu esque orange thing. Like an orange slice coated in yellow melted sugar shaped like a sun and the phoenix feather cap since I consider it iconic enough to put in here. I didn't want to put it on him, blocking a lot of the decorations so I just hung it to the side and I think I'm happy with that.

A lot more monkeys here! It was very fun popping them in! I know I only gave Mac 1 but I mean Wukong's the monkey king for a reason. Let him be a loving grandpa and invite his subjects on the cake with him. He granted them immortality by ripping their names out the book of dead, let them have a place on the cake too

Also, yes that is the origami pilgims in the bottom left, I couldn't leave them alone could I?

Now the elephant in the room (or at least in my head), yes I did use @maplesleep's matcha pancake design for flower fruit mountain.

Cake on cake. Bit much but hey, I like cake and pastries better than candy normally so win for me.

And I couldn't just make cake about Sun Wukong without mentioning his home/origins of ffm. I do genuinely love the inginuity and adorableness factor of the pancake design and hope they don't mind me slapping it on my...cheesecake? Jelly cake? Jelly-cheesecake?

(also I have to ask @maplesleep, did you watch the 3rd emirichu anime cafe video, specifically the urusei yatsura cafe as inspiration for the 'sun wukong's strawberry sponge cake punishment' parfait thingy, gorgeously drawn btw I used those drawings as inspiration quite a bit for these cakes, or saw the urusei yatsura collab anime cafe

cause I couldn't help but notice the similarities between that and the 'shinobu's maiden strength parfait' cause if you didn't that be a pretty funny coincidence lol)

So what do you think? You think I could make it as another lmk food chef for lego? Can I join the club lmao?

I do realize in retrospect the disrespect I did Mk by making his cake so plain by comparison to his mentor's. But I think that's a testament to my improvement and attention to detail when making these cakes as the days have progressed!

I consider Mk's in particular to be the most lacking and I lowkey feel so bad for my boi for not giving him the main character status he deserves.

I might draw him again, idk. Not anytime soon though, like I said, I'm quite busy now more than before and I need a break, still glad I could serve y'all another slice of cake though!

[so-long-soldier-writes]

It's a Cruel Summer, With You

kai parker x reader | requested

summary: kai's never had anyone tell him they love him. he panics when he hears it for the first time.

tags: based on cruel summer by taylor swift, mild enemies to lovers, drinking / alcohol, secret relationship, summer love, love confessions, fear / panic, past trauma affecting relationships, emotional hurt, unrequited love (but not really), break-up, heartbreak, unhappy ending, one teensy edgar allen poe reference

word count: 5k

a/n: anon, i apologize once more for the amount of time this took! i hope you like it, and i hope i did taylor swift justice. 🩷 i also hope it makes sense bc sometimes i feel like my thoughts are just all over the place 😅

You were staring daggers into the back of his head, three days after a drastic turning point in their lives. And he, feeling your eyes upon him, turned to face you and smiled. That enraged you like nothing else; no man had ever had such an audacity with you, to raise the hell that he had and still offer a smile. You looked back down at your drink, still fuming, and still aware of him watching you, and texted your friends about it. One replied with an equal disgust, another sent a funny-to-her joke, and there was no response from the third. 

“Maybe he’s got a sweet spot for you,” she had said.

“Ha.”

A sweet spot that’d make him kill you last, maybe.

You rolled your eyes exhaustedly, but by the time you looked back down, someone had slunk into the booth across from you. You jumped, then rolled your eyes a second time at the realization of who it was.

“Hey cutie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kai shrugged, unbothered. He kept eye contact with you in a way that made it hard to look away; his blue eyes seemed to pierce right into your soul. They weren’t bright, like Damon’s, but instead had a touch of darkness in them. Like storm clouds rolling in on a bright, sunny day. They threaten rain, but you’re not sure if the downpour will come today or tomorrow.

Kinda like how he came into Mystic Falls. 

“What do you want?” You bit, after about thirty seconds of staring.

“Are you scared of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you afraid of me?” He repeated, eerily softly. 

“Why would you think that?” Forced bravery is better than none, especially when faced with Kai Parker. 

“There’s a slight tremor in your voice. Only one finger touches the table, as if you’re unable to settle. You struggle to meet my eyes.”

“What are you, a psychologist?”

“I’m a sociopath.”

Shocker. 

“So?”

“I notice things.” He took a sip of your coffee. Reached out across the table, met your eyes, and sipped your drink. Again, the audacity. “I spent a lot of my childhood isolated. I had a lot of little brothers and sisters, and they were all taught to be afraid of me. I know how to read the signs.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s what they’d say, too.”

“Well I’m not your siblings, and I’m not putting up an act. I don’t trust you, and I think you’re an ass, but I’m not afraid of you.” Your statement’s bold, but he had struck something fierce in you. A nerve, maybe on purpose, that wasn’t going to let him win this time. 

Kai smiled at that. His gaze dropped to the table, surveying your hands once more. His own pointer finger dragged along the wood. “I like you, Y/N. You’re plucky.”

The words took a moment to register - Kai saying he liked you. Kai didn’t like anyone. 

He got up to leave, causing you to turn towards him, prepared to jump out of the booth if you had to. “Well don’t.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

“I don’t want you to like me. I want nothing to do with you; you said it yourself, you’re a sociopath, and I don’t need that kind of bad energy in my life.”

That seemed to be funny to him, judging by the way he chuckled. “Okay, Y/N.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I won’t like you then.”

And with that, he was gone. 

Of course, he wasn’t gone - gone. Kai was never gone - gone from anything, even when people yelled at him to leave. He would disappear for a couple days, but he always came back. 

And somehow, after your interaction, you’d see him more frequently at the grill, too. He’d never talk to you, but you could feel his gaze. His stone cold blues would linger on you, almost like an animal stalking prey. 

It made you anxious, jittery. But somewhere, secretly, also a bit excited. 

He was dangerous in a way that drew you in. He had this aura about him that intrigued you as much as it scared you. You knew what he had done, and what he was capable of, and yet he still occupied the curious corners of your mind. 

And somehow, he seemed to know that. 

♫

How it happened from there is something you still question. Death glares became stolen glances, became blushing smiles, and by the next time he joined you at your booth, you didn’t try to fight him off. Kai ordered an uncharacteristically pink cocktail to match your own tropical choice. Neither said much as you both drank the rum mixtures down to the ice. You communicated in eye contact, mostly, as if daring the other to speak. Your stubborn personalities that should’ve clashed seemed to meld together instead. An intense staring contest was born. You found yourself entertained in the game, and quickly, enjoying it, too.

The booze soaked your brain as you continued to drink; your thoughts were fuzzy, and whenever you tried to catch them, they’d dissipate like cotton candy dropped in water. When Liv closed the restaurant around midnight, she unknowingly crashed the floodgates that weakly stood between you two. Ten feet out onto the street, you fell into him and he held you up. You laughed in his arms, partly due to your own drunken state, but partly that it’s Kai keeping you on your toes. He held you tight until you found your footing, just for you to crash your lips onto his unsuspecting own. The witch, taken aback but not opposed to it, let you taste him for a moment before kissing back. He pushed you up to the nearest wall, feeling and exploring, before hailing a ride back to your place. 

It had been forever for both of you. The uber driver with a ‘no touching’ rule sobered you up a little, but not enough to make you think twice about it. By the time he laid you down on your sheets, any doubt in your mind had fizzled out. He was a gentle lover, much to your surprise, likely because it was such an unfamiliar feeling to be so intimate with another. The little control you tried to take was met with a laugh, and you understood the signal. You didn’t mind being underneath him, though, nor did you mind him staying the night.

Guilt struck you when you first woke up in his arms, but not enough to barr yourselves from meeting again. The first few times you had to be drinking to convince yourself it was okay, but the more morning-afters you spent together, the less ashamed you started to feel. With time, nights started to feel less like hookups and more like something else. He became something you adored when you had, and craved when you did not. The feelings were mutual, though harder to pull out from the siphon, until you asked him directly, putting both your hearts out for the other to grab.

“What are we?” You asked, head leaning on the vending machine as he fetched himself a post-high gatorade. A bag of cookies were held in your own hand from the exchange you made one minute prior. 

“Having fun,” Kai replied.

“Kai…”

“Or so I think,” he followed his words, questioning the look on your face. 

“Are we anything more? Will we ever be?”

A loud voice down the hall that vaguely resembled his sister made a sharp remark to another person. His response sounded closer, as if they were heading in your direction. Kai grabbed your arm and muttered a simple cloaking spell until they both passed. Liv and Tyler both disappeared into her room, then Kai removed his hand. His touch lingered on your skin for a moment. You’ve grown to quite like the feeling. 

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’m not exactly the person for relationships, if you aren’t aware. I’m a sociopath that was locked in complete isolation for eighteen years.”

“I don’t care.” You grabbed his hand and laced your fingers together. “I like you. I don’t want this to stop. I want it to be more.”

“I’m not built for this.”

“But do you want it?”

His mouth went dry as he already knew the truth. He did. He wanted you so much, but fear held him back like a dog on a leash. He didn’t have much slack. “I want you,” he finally said. “I want this to work.”

“I’m not good at relationships, either. We’re figuring this out together.”

Kai seemed to accept that better, and two minutes later, he climbed back under the sheets with you, turning on a movie and sharing snacks until you fell asleep. 

♫

As your relationship progressed, it was tested, like all relationships ever are. You grew closer, more comfortable, as summer went on. Much of your time spent together was at night; you hadn’t told your friends, not ready for their questions nor their judgment, nor did you want the word out to his coven yet, afraid of whatever wrath his father could bring if he were to disapprove. You were still figuring things out, still learning about each other, and testing yourselves through time, and that was okay. Life isn’t something to be learned in a day, it’s something in which to be present to see where it takes you.

So, you let yourselves live, to do just that. On top of rooftops and beside small creeks, you snuck out to enjoy each other’s company. Mystic Falls has a lot of places to hide if you know where to look. 

A couple times, you’ve almost ran into others. More than anyone being Liv and Tyler, also avoiding her father. Once, you’ve ducked under bushes to hide from Bonnie. Kai kissed your neck while his hand was clamped over your mouth, daring you to give away your position, while playfully inhibiting your chance to do so.

Sometimes, you were drunk when you found yourselves venturing the town together. The bar in which neither Matt nor Liv worked became a hotspot for you. But instead of ending the night short, you opted to explore the late hours in each other’s company. The alcohol wore off quickly, but the drunkenness brought on by your unconfessed love never did. 

Kai, as it turns out, was easy to fall in love with. He was charming when you first met, but you were tickled to learn that underneath his manipulation tactics, he could be just as endearing authentically. He was a jokester and a flirt, whether across a room when you’d spot each other in public, or when you were hanging out together alone. You were never afraid to be alone with him. If your friends knew you were out with him, alone, at night, they would’ve freaked, but he always made you feel safe. And, once he felt comfortable being vulnerable with you, he revealed a side that could be sweet, too. 

Even after arguments, you were able to patch things up as if they hadn’t happened. Sometimes, he’d be bristling and volatile, but you knew that a lot of his anger came from a place of fear. You learned what to say that would calm him down; you told him what he needed to hear to feel safe again. You’d provide him with the comfort he’d always desired, and when he settled, he’d melt into your touch and softly request forgiveness.

You complimented each other perfectly. And while it took you a moment to name the emotion, the feeling had been there all along. It was love. 

♫

You were only slightly drunk the first time you realized the truth. Kai was painted in perfect, purple lighting, and his eyes seemed to sparkle when they met yours. You stumbled towards him and put your arms around his neck. He caught you, hands finding your waist. The music seemed to fade out as you swayed with him to the beat. It was as if a bubble captured you both, drowning out the rest of the world, making him your world, and in that moment, nothing else existed. You kissed him quickly, desperately, like an addict gone too long without a hit. He met you halfway, equally addicted. 

And then, because you were young, and stupid, and courageously in love, you blurted out the words swimming restlessly in your mind,

“I love you.”

You looked up at him, not expecting an answer just yet, but to offer an encouraging smile. Before your gaze even reached his, his body tensed. His hands felt like ice upon your nervously warmed skin, and his once-strong grip on your waist loosened. Kai wore an expression of confusion, different from the emotion that you tasted on his lips. You opened your mouth to retract the words, but nothing came out. The bubble that consumed you seemed to crack; the music previously blocked filled your eardrums once again. 

A fraction of a second later, you were guided to a hallway by your fingertips. The narrow path reduced some of the music, but most of the traffic. The man of your affection took to one wall, leaving you in the middle. You tried for his hand after he let it go, but dropped it at the discomfort he seemed to feel in having you hold it. 

You racked your brain for the right words, but nothing seemed perfect. You stared at the ground beneath your feet for a half second longer until he spoke, 

“You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t. What did I do wrong?” He only shook his head, prompting you further. “Was it what I said or when I said it? Because I don’t think it’s wrong of me to confess what I feel for you when I know that it’s true.”

“It can’t be true. You can’t feel that for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Provide me with a reason,” you interrupted, “or let me do as I please. I want to love you. I do, and I won’t apologize for it.” 

“Y/N-”

“We’ve had some tough times together, I know we have, but we’ve gotten through them. We - us, together - have worked through so much to get here. Of course I love you, there’s so much effort and, and, love, that connects us.” You paused, letting your thoughts catch up to your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t even have to acknowledge it, if you’re not ready. I know it’s a big step.”

“You can’t go there, Y/N.”

“I know, okay, maybe it was too much, too soon. I’m sor-”

“No, you can’t ever go there. You can’t love me and you shouldn’t. I’m not designed for relationships, they’re not meant for me. Do you not remember the things I’ve done?”

“We’ve talked about this, Kai. You confided in me about your fears, but we handled them, I thought. Do you not remember what I said?”

“I do, but-”

“‘Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway’.”

“By Poe,” Kai finished.

“And it’s true. I don’t care about the things you’ve done. I want to love you, and I do.”

“But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t excuse the things I’ve done just because you want to see me for someone who I am not. You shouldn’t be so desperate to see a difference in me that you convince yourself you love me.”

“What?! Kai, I’m not excusing nor am I desperate. I know you’re different from the you that wrought pain upon the town. That guy’s gone, buried, with this you in his place. And I quite like this you, and I’ve learned to love him, because his progress is worth loving. He is worth loving. You are.”

“The old Y/N would never say such things about her sworn enemy. You’d never dare hold his hand, nor kiss his lips, nor say such things, because you’d know better, and if you did, it’d be because of some horrible nightmare, or some instance where I spelled you to get what I needed, because Y/N, we’re living in a fantasy, and none of this is real.”

“I don’t understand! This is real! We’re here, together, and we were dancing, and we were happy, and now we’re in this hallway. Still together, but now questioning if the summer we’ve spent together has all been a hoax, or if that’s the booze talking.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You have to be, to think what you’re saying is true.” You paused, heartbroken, and afraid to show it, but pretty sure the choke in your words already had. “So are you saying you’ve never meant it? All the times you’ve kissed me were just folly? Or the nights we stayed up until the sun rose again were only dreams I made up?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N. I know what we’ve done, and I know we’ve shared moments, but a fantasy is all this is for us. Something we want, but cannot have. We have to wake up some day.”

“I disagree, I think we can make it work.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This was never supposed to be a long-term thing.”

“But we said it could be! We said it could make it work!”

“And that’s what makes it a fantasy! We both know that’s a lie.”

“Kai, I don’t understand. Ten minutes ago, we were fine. Yesterday, you gave me a kiss that swept me off my feet; that replaced all my organs with butterflies; that made me feel like full-bloomed roses on the nicest day of the year. You made me feel cherished, and happy, and beautiful, but now, I feel like I’m on the end of a well-thought out joke, and everyone’s finally allowed to laugh.”

“I’m not saying this to break your heart. I’m just trying to be realistic.” He reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek, but you smacked his thumb away. 

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but you still tried to talk through them. “I thought we were being realistic when we stayed up talking, all those nights, about how we knew each other’s flaws but were willing to work through them anyway. I would think, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t have spent a whole week together and considered getting an apartment to share, because we work just that well.”

“That only proves my point further. We haven’t been together long enough to make big decisions like that.”

“Then we’ll put it on pause and address it later.”

“Y/N-”

“Why are you doing this? Why does it seem like you’re giving up on us? Why are your words sounding like a preface to a break up?”

“Because they are,” he confessed, “because they have to be.”

“What do you mean, ‘they have to be?’”

“We can’t work. You can’t love me.”

“But I do, and I want to, and we do! We’ve managed to make it work, despite our-”

“But how long do you think we can keep this up? When will our differences outweigh our desires to stay together? When will we tell your friends about us? My family? We are too different for us to work, and I’m too damaged to be loved by you. We have to stop living in this fantasy.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.”

“So what, have you been planning this? Have you been waiting for the perfect time? Funny, that the perfect time seems to be when I tell you I l-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “don’t say it again.”

“What?”

“The less you say it, the less you’ll believe it.”

“That’s bullshit. I believe it in the deepest corners of my heart. You’re etched into my bones. You’re the shimmer of light in the darkest parts of my mind. I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it, and I won’t believe that I’ve made this all up in my mind. It’s okay that you don’t love me, but don’t you dare try to say you feel nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“‘Tell me all the terrible things you’ve done, and let me love you anyway’.”

“You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t have a choice. I don’t. I can’t control my heart nor its desires. It wants you; you have it. Tell me you don’t crave it. I know you crave love, Kai. I know it in the way you kiss me, and in the way you hold me. I know it from the time you confessed, at two in the morning when you were too tired to hold back, and I know it from when you told me, clear as day, on that Wednesday afternoon. I love you, and I’m not afraid to love you. Why don’t you give in to what I know you want?!”

Because your love isn’t mine to take. 

Because I don’t deserve it.

Because you’re a gemstone, perfect and pure, and I’m the dirt from which it was pulled.

“Because I don’t feel the same for you,” he said instead, “I’m not capable of love. I’m a sociopath, and anything I’ve ever said was for my own fleeting pleasure. It’s over now. I’m done. I’m bored with us.”

“What? No. Something’s wrong. This is not the same Kai I spent the summer falling in love with. Are you Damon in disguise? Pulling some sick prank?”

“I’m not, Y/N. It’s me, being realistic, and telling you I don’t love you, and I never will. It’s time to go home, Y/N, and to your own bed, in your own sheets.”

The tears streaming down your face run your make-up, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “But my sheets smell like you.”

“Then wash them.”

The harshness in his tone was unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. When you finally brought yourself to meet his eyes, there was no light inside them, no humanity. His jaw was tensely set, and for the first time in months, you saw the Kai that everyone feared when he had broken himself free of his eighteen-year punishment. Scared and sorrowful, you backed away from him. He didn’t follow. You backed further and further away until you were stumbling out of the bar. The wicked August heat kissed your neck like he used to -  passionately. You grabbed your hair, fumbling it up into a bun to get it off your skin, then searched for your phone to call a ride. 

As the white sedan approached your meeting spot, you trained your blurry vision on the door, but Kai never came out. He never shouted your name, hurried down the steps, nor caught you in an apologetic embrace, blaming his temporary ignorance on too much to drink. He never peered through a fingerprint-stained window, watching you from the glass, wondering if it's too late to take back what was said. It was just silent, as car engines roared and drunk couples chattered around you. 

When your ride finally came, you cried harder than you ever had in your life. Your driver glanced to the backseat, but didn't know a good time to interrupt, so he didn't. He offered a polite smile as you got out, thanked you for the five-star rating, and made sure you got in your apartment safely before pulling back onto the road. 

You barely made it through the door before crashing on the couch. Exhaustion settled in your bones halfway through the drive, and you couldn’t even think about climbing the stairs. The worst headache of your life pounded in your skull. Water was too far of a walk, so you let it throb. 

You tried your best not to think about Kai. His words rang in your head on repeat like an old antique bell - loud, heavy, constant. It almost felt like the whole night was a fluke. A nightmare. A spell, perhaps done by his father, or one of your disappointed friends. When you wake up, he’d be there, kissing your fingertips as the smell of coffee fills the air. You let this thought comfort you, and let it soften your heart. Although, deep down, you knew the truth. 

He wouldn’t be there. He didn’t want you. 

You’ve never known pain like this before.

♫

You can only ignore your friends for so long. Blaming a long to-do list can only give you so many excuses, and when Caroline messages you mid-afternoon on a Friday if you’d meet them at the Scull Bar, you realize you don’t have any more excuses left. So, cautiously, you pull yourself from your bed and drag your feet to your closet. You still haven’t washed your sheets, despite wanting to be rid of his once-comforting smell. It’s more stubbornness than anything, refusing to do the chore. If he thinks throwing a piece of fabric in the wash will rid you of him, he’s a damn fool.

You hadn’t been lying. He owns a part of your heart, and that can’t be simply washed away with some eco-friendly detergent.

Truthfully, you think, ignoring the heaviness in your bones as you enter the Scull Bar, the only way to remove him would be to carve out your heart entirely; to separate it from its lifeline and from all that’s familiar. But, you can’t, so you choose to let it bleed instead, and hope it doesn’t seep through your clothes. 

A vague sadness hangs above your heads, but none of your friends know the cause. You told them you were tired before joining them. You must not have gotten a good night’s sleep.

After all, it’s the first time in Mystic Falls where something tragic isn’t happening. Damon and Elena are planning out their lives, Stefan and Caroline are newly together, and Bonnie and Enzo, a quite unexpected pair, seem to be happy. Jo is five months pregnant, and Kai has left her alone. The girls wonder if that’s of his own volition, or if someone or something is distracting him, but you don’t offer any suggestions. When they then ask you about your own dating life, you only shrug. They tease playfully, having no idea about the wreckage your heart is still trying to piece back together. The cause seems hopeless. You don’t even have the energy to confide in them. 

The topic finally changes, but only because the one who dropped your glass heart enters. You turn when you catch a bit of his familiar cologne, but remind yourself he’s no longer yours and turn again just as fast. The girls let their gazes linger on him as if daring him to bother them, and for a moment, Kai wonders if you told them. But then, as they shrug and go back to their conversation, he knows you didn’t. Otherwise, they’d be hurling bitter words and sharp tools at him for breaking their best friend’s heart. 

And honestly, he wishes they were. 

It’s what he deserves, after all. 

♫

“I love you,” you had said, only a couple weeks ago. 

His heart stopped. His throat went dry. 

The words seemed to have been shouted at him, despite the booming bass around them. You weren’t yelling, though, you were simply telling the truth. 

A truth he wasn’t ready to hear. A confession he didn’t know how to process. 

How could you, a perfect person, love him, someone so tainted and dark? 

How could he ever love you the way you deserved? 

He did love you, of course. He knew it long before you ever confessed, but it was never something he felt okay to share. 

You always made him feel safe. Comfortable. Dare he say it, loved. 

But love was something he had never felt before, and to have something means that it can be lost. And to not lose it tragically, he must be the one to take it away. 

Hearing the words fall from your lips was both the best and the worst thing he could ever hear. He craves love, he knows he’s admitted it. He craves it more than anything else in the world. But wanting it and having it are two very different things, and now that he has it, he regrets asking for it. 

He had to hurt you then, before your soul could be completely shattered later. He had to stop it. Right then. Before he let you in too much and you got too attached.

So, he lied. 

He broke his own heart with every word, but it was nothing compared to the damage he knew it was doing to your own. He wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms, hold you tightly, and say it was all just a spell - an outside force trying to drive you apart - but he couldn’t. His fear of hurting you triumphed over his love for you. His mouth spoke before his mind could process the words he professed. He became unrecognizable to himself by the time he delivered his final blow. Your tears stained your perfect face and your posture was defeated, but he was no longer the one that could offer any solace. He was now the one that ruined you, and there was no coming back from what he had done. 

How terrifying it is, that three little words can make or break you. 

How terrifying it was, to wake up the next morning and realize the damage caused. To have to come to terms with the fact that he had broken the only good thing in his life. To imagine the love of his life sitting on the couch, stirring coffee, with a head full of questions neither will ever be able to answer. 

“I love you, Kai Parker. I love you, and I don’t want to apologize for it…”

“I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

[gloriousburden]

Why are we just supposed to forget that Loki is a Frost Giant? This is A BIG THING!!! This is the big dark secret, the scandal, the controversy, the tragedy, the horror, the origin, the defining moment, the catalyst, the turning point of no return, and now we're just expected to ...not think about it?  Or treat it like it's no big deal, as if it's the same thing as saying Loki has a double-jointed thumb, it's just useless information now? Or laugh about it, as if it’s some kind of embarrassing, hilarious accident of birth Loki deserves for existing?  Can you imagine how incredible, how cathartic, how satisfying it could have been, if only? If only.

OH MY GOD YES!! Between the play (Supposedly written by Loki though he felt immense shame over being Jotun, as well as the overall discrimination against Frost Giants from Asgardians…) from Ragnarok, the Loki/Sylvie blanket scene (I don’t care if it was flirting. NEITHER OF THEM WOULD GET COLD FROM A SMALL BREEZE. I DON’T EVEN GET COLD FROM A SMALL BREEZE!), and "Because I see a scared little boy shivering in the cold and you kinda feel bad for that ice runt." From Mobius being like the only reference to Loki’s heritage in the series?! Ugh.

“Am I cursed?”

“Laufey’s son?”

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?

“What, because I.. I.. I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

“You know, it all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all these years, because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

“I’m not your brother! I never was!”

“He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?”

(These quotes make me so sad. Poor Loki. He really went through so much.)

Yes, because the same Loki who was in so much distress about his heritage would crack jokes about it and talk openly about it in front of the common people of Asgard, who view Frost Giants as monsters to tell scary stories about to their children, and enemies.

If Loki didn’t find out that he was a Frost Giant… a lot of things would have gone differently not only for him, but as well as other MCU characters. It is essential to his character, and should’ve been talked about more outside of it being used to belittle him, comedy relief, and outside of AUs such as the What If? episode.

It is so unfair. I do also wish it was talked about in TDW, though I know the movie wasn’t necessarily Loki centered.

Haha guys he’s blue and adopted and a runt. It’s so funny and totally not an essential part of his character. It’s not like he’s deeply affected by any of this, or anything. 🤦🏻‍♀️