#sometime around 1985 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serv0z · 2 months ago

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cant remember if i posted these here yet but !! huzzah !! the refs I made for and before the Phony pmv yapping about it under the cut!!

All of this is based on how I view them and the timeline. Personally I think its: Fredbears opens sometime in the mid-to-late 70s, during this time the fnaf 2 location opens up within a year or two of Fredbears debut. Somewhere between 1982-1983 (pre-bite) Circus Babys opens up and then closes that very same day (Elizabeth dies). Following this is FNaF 4 at Fredbears where the place lasts about another year or 2 before closing in 1985. (Charlie dies in this period of time and the missing childrens incident takes place.) Little note is after SB shuts down the rental reopens !! Thats why its open by the time Michael goes there. FNaF 2 location shuts down 2 years after in 1987 due to the bite + the tampering of the animatronics. Shortly after the FNaF 1 location is properly opened up and deemed 'safer' since they aren't allowed free-roam in the day. Of course everything goes to hell here and the place begins to shut down in 1993 (during which the game takes place). Then SL happens at an unknown time between here (maybe 2 years after? in 1995? not sure) followed by FNaF 3 in 2023 (i do NOT believe ffps takes place in 2023 it doesnt fit at ALL). I think FFPS takes place about 2 or 3 years after in 2025 or 2026. I dont have anything for SB or HW bc it wasnt the focus so nfkjfn hopefully this all makes sense, at some point i may do refs of the missing children but because this was michael centric I mainly drew refs for him. I figured Michael looks more like his dad (especially by SL bc. yk.) and Elizabeth looks more like their mom,, Evan is somewhere inbetween. Michael and Elizabeth got their moms freckles, Evan didn't!! All of them got her darker skin though since Williams a fucking ghost. I am all for the hc of Michael tanning in fnaf 4 its so stupid and def smth a 14 year old boy trying to fit in would do I know I posted some of my Michael ideas like 2 years ago? Specifically post-SL. I feel the scooper wasnt completely centered, aiming more to his left side rather than completely centered. The damage was done, shattering his ribs and spine and really that arm was unsalvagable. I think hes replaced parts of himself with metal, like using it to connect to whats left of his spine to be able to stand properly, making a new arm either alone or with help from Henry or smth as well as needing a cane and/or leg braces to keep himself balanced. It's not farfetched since William in the books literally does something similar and it would help him look "normal". I also made the outfit bright and colorful to help sell the act. FFPS has some pretty bright colors for their front and to tie it in I added pink to his design and made it more fun and interesting, especially since he'd be around and children would be running past him and adults keepig an eye and such and the mask would probably be pretty intimidating if he didnt make it a bit more cute. Yes, that is the bow he was wearing during FNaF 1 btw!! Michaels necklace in fnaf 4 was a gift from his mom. Cant decide if i want her to leave or she passed. I think maybe if she left michael went with her? after 87 i mean. some point during those years she died and he was living on his own before returning to figure out the things his father left behind and try to find him, returnning for fnaf 1 and forward. Michael living with his mother is WHY he never noticed anything with William, he was still grieving his siblings and William would be too focused on his work to support him at all. His mom helped him work through some things, got him into therapy which he promptly dropped a bit after she died because he just. didnt have the motivation. He was alone before ending up back in Hurricane and looking for his father and learning all the atrocities committed.

I feel like Elizabeth being the youngest just. makes sense in my mind? Maybe its a personal preference but. Evan gives me middle child vibes more than youngest. Not to play into stereotypes but; older sibling having to be the 'responsible' one (and then rebelling this idea), the middle child being overlooked or ignored (nobody stopped the bullying.) and the youngest being given her very own animatronic (implimented with things she enjoyed.) side note if u call elizabeth a brat or spoiled im legally allowed to shoot u!!!!!1 Elizabeth also just. sounds very young to me with her voice and how she acts. It all gives off 'young child' rather than 'spoiled brat who gets anything she wants' yk? Her dying first ALSO just makes sense, especially witht he idea Evan saw it. She dies, he witnesses it and nobody believes him and shes just declared missing. the place goes down and its declared a 'gas leak' rather than 'my sister got eaten by an animatronic'. (I figure mrs afton is grieving and thats why she doesnt notice the bullying often.) It also works with the fnaf 4 scenario. William being fed up with him whining, not wanting to be given away by his own child so a plushie he can talk through and monitor him through, as well as setting up the illusion disks inside the room. The nightmares weren't just bad dreams, they are implied (at least from what i recall from the trilogy and ucn lines) to be real. it ties into his fear; animatronics with stomach mouths that have come to swallow him whole for what he saw. tormenting him. Its not just a bad dream to him, these are either based on how he percieves them or how he explained what he saw and William used this against him. The test with illusion disks began here. (it could also explain michael knowing abt them later in via security log book!!! the disks didt just vanish!!) This also curb stomps the idea william only began killing due to the 'loss of his children'. Not even possible. Look at the blueprints of the funtimes and compare. Those things were designed to lure, trap and kill from the very beginning. Circus babys was one of the VERY FIRST buildings to open, it just became a rental cental solely after shutting down where they were tortured and experimented on. He made these LONG before 85. anyways thats just my interpretation of the whole thing up to ffps. I dont remember everything from AR, hw, hw2, sb and ruin enough to make my own opinions on its timeline (i do have strong opinions on whats happened during it and right before but nothing leading up the opening or years and such) I mainly grew up heavily fixated on the base games, nothing really past ffps. as for Henry, he was briefly as bad as William with his work I think. If i picked up anything from the books and even the games, he was heavily focused on his work that he didn't notice his daughter die and had an animatronic watching over her instead of himself or family. i dont know if Sammy would exist in gameverse. If he did I imagine he either died/went missing very early on causing mrs. emily to leave, mrs emily left WITH him or he simply didnt exist bc Henry only focuses on Charlie here so either his son odesnt exist in this world or hes gone in some way shape or form. Henrys design is pulled from the books a bit. I wanted to make him bigger? William is slim and maybe a bit offputting but hes charming enough to get out of things. and Henry is more enthusiastic and rounder, having a loud and happy voice. I think he truly enjoyed making Fredbears happen. Cant decide if I wanna say he was in the Fredbear suit when Charlie died (giving cake) or if he was in a backroom working on things. Whatever it is I also think William tried to pin things on him. Errmm!! thats all i hve to say rn :3 its 8am im so tired so if this makes no sense. mb gang

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joequiinn · 3 months ago

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

WC | 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead.

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

addt. Author's Note | I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @feralgoblinbabe @frogtape @fromasgardandback

@fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive @rach5ive @sapphire4082

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

@teethvenom @tvserie-s-world @twihard28 @urlivingdeadgirl @v1per1ne

@wefracturedmotivation @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em

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earthstellar · 1 year ago

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Old Transformers Games You Can Still Play!

Following up on my Transformers Flash Games post here, I thought I'd go through the Internet Archive and pull up all the currently available Transformers games! :)

Some of these can be played in browser, while others may require DOSBox or other virtual machine to run-- I still don't know how to make old software work on modern shit, otherwise I would be messing around in Windows 3.1 right now LOL, but if you know how to do that, have fun!!! :)

In chronological order, and games in bold can be played in browser:

The Transformers (1985) - Commodore 64

Transformers: The Battle to Save the Earth (1986) - Commodore 64

Transformers: Generation 2 (1993) - Tiger Handheld

Beast Wars (1998) - Windows 95

Beast Wars Transmetals (2000) - PS2

Transformers The Game (2007) - Windows XP/Vista

Transformers Creative Studio (2007) - PC, Check Specs

War for Cybertron (2010) - Windows XP/Vista/7

Transformers Rise of the Dark Spark (2014) - PC, Check Specs

Transformers Devastation (2015) - PC, Check Specs

There are almost certainly a few I've missed, as sometimes searching the Internet Archive can be tricky depending on how things have been tagged etc., but when I have the chance to do a deeper dive I'll update this post! :)

Hopefully this is helpful for someone!

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #transformers games #war for cybertron #beast wars #g1 #transformers g1 #transformers g2

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north-noire · 11 months ago

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My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

#yeah in this au my michael and william actually have a decent father-son relationship even after the bite. even after all that will's done.#michael just... isn't aware of what his dad did yet for the meantime.#ik william isn't a great father at ALL in canon but let me WRITE my AU the way i want okay?#hidden hands au #fnaf au #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf fanart #michael afton #mike afton #fnaf michael afton #fnaf mike afton #long post #my art

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colourstreakgryffin · 1 year ago

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Hello!

Could I request some hc's for platonic Alastor and Reader where he treats Reader like a little sister?

Y E S! LET’S GOOOOOO! I LOVE ALASTOR! MY DEEREST— sorry. Sorry… I am so excited to finally have a Hazbin Hotel request. Thank you soooooo much, infinite amount of love and support to you, darling! Thank you!

Platonic! Alastor- Hopping Little Heart

“Al… can you just stop it”

You grumble out loud enough to be heard with sharp eyes glaring over your shoulder, annoyed by the constant babying and half-condescending treatment the Radio Demon himself gives you

Alastor, ever since he met you and managed to trick you into giving up your soul to him, treats you like you’re a child under his care. Like you’re an incompetent incapable little girl that he has to take care of as your older brother. It’s annoying, you’re 25 and been in Hell since 1985. Yeah, he’s 33 and been in Hell since 1933 but still. These whole behaviours of his is driving you more crazy than you already are

“Hmm… Let me think over it… I don’t think I will stop brushing your hair, my dear” Alastor hums out in a snarky yet dapper fashion, his transatlantic-accented voice echoey and menacing with the usual radio lace as he continues to brush your hair humming out a old-timey tune under his breath, long sharp fingers holding nice silky strands over his palm. You’re getting ready for a special party Princess Charlie Morningstar is arranging as a celebration for the first client, Sir Pentious, being redeemed. Here is Alastor behaving like you can’t doll yourself up on your own

Sometimes, you seriously think Alastor views you as an eight year old and he’s adopted you as to act like your surrogate older brother-caretaker. He’s overprotective, he shoves you away from arguments as to ‘protect your little ears’, he is quite favouritistic over you that it’s obvious, he gives you all kinds of cute gifts, he lets you touch him when nobody else can. As compared to how he treats Husk and Niffty, the overpowered Overlord treats you much more civil. He does act like a clingy loving boundary-stepping brother, it’s weird…

Even Charlie notices it but nobody really wants to point out, other than Vaggie, how weird it is to see Alastor baby and babytalk you in the Hotel Lobby, with no shame, like you’re five years old. Who would ever think a narcissistic, violent but yet charismatic demon like Alastor could express genuine affection to anybody else? Alastor, in a rather impressively fast pace, ties up your hair in a cute fluffy bun for this upcoming party. As if he’s tied up women’s hair many times over

How about himself? Will he attend this party? No but he’ll go to watch over you, that’s it. He isn’t going to participate in the event, he isn’t on the side of redemption. He’s here for his own amusement and he especially isn’t a fan of get-togethers, even if he behaves and dresses like he attends the most lavish rich parties all the time. He isn’t much of a party man and he just wants to make sure his surrogate little sister isn’t being creeped on

“Look at that, darling. Simple magnificent” You can’t help but roll your eyes at Alastor’s half-praise whilst putting in a nice pair of diamond earrings, himself readjusting your dress so it’s comfortably hugging your body. Hearing the Radio Demon speak in usual half-talking down, babying manner to you, he always does it. On his end, he was admiring how pretty you look when he finished fixing you up. You’re the most pretty girl in this shitty Hotel and he’d love to rub into Vaggie’s face, he is still very annoyed at the Hotel Manager insulting his relationship with you. However, this is too risky, getting into a fight with Vaggie at the party will cause his murderous itch bubble over

And he doesn’t want to be violent or monstrous around his little sister

“Thank you, Al… you know, you can go now. I can walk to the Lobby on my own, I am not five” You’re not very good at expressing your desire for space with this demon, nobody has the confidence to tell Alastor what to do or to fuck off, and Alastor himself has absolutely no grasp on personal space so even when you spell it out for him, he just ignores it. Picking you up from your chair in front of the makeup mirror with zero effort and placing you down before him

All ready, pampered and sparkly to a degree he thought you were outshining the Hotel room’s light, Alastor’s wide sharp toothy grin almost feels less of power and dominance, and more genuine and prideful over… what? Over you?

“My dear. I can’t just let such a precious princess go out there all on her own. Allow me to escort you, as a family member. It’s the least a brother can do” Your suspicions over this Overlord’s intentions towards his brotherly-like affections to you has been confirmed. He does view you as a little sister and whilst his treatment of you, though trying his best to be affectionate and caring that comes off as belittling and bothersome, he doesn’t just view you as another soul to be exploited as to serve him and the Hotel he’s investing in

It’s kinda flattering and you just think for a bit whilst Alastor offers out his arm for you with patient silence and his grin never dying out, blood red eyes still locked on you like a proud older brother. Maybe, you’ve been a bit too harsh to this possibly really lonely deer-featured sinner. Maybe, you can just give him a chance and let this whole surrogate older brother-younger sister bond he is trying to develop with you actually blossom

“Careful of your heels. Don’t want you slipping on the floor. Niffty just waxed them”

A/N: Lmao. Fuck, didn’t read the HCs until after I finished writing. Sorry, hope this is okay!

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic

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supernovafics · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, “the beatles” slander (sorry?), just a lil bit of angst

summary: in which you force you and steve to have a housewarming party

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

“Oh no, you’re playing The Beatles at full volume... On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be for you right now?”

Hearing Steve’s voice right then put a timestamp on how long you’d been in your current position— lying in the dark on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, an oversized hoodie, which just so happened to be Steve’s, covering your body; even the hood was pulled over your head because you wanted to feel completely cocooned.

He finished his shift at Family Video at seven and the drive usually took no more than twenty minutes, and you’d gotten home from your last class around five. That meant you’d been sulking for over two hours. A part of you felt a bit disappointed in yourself.

Not enough to stop sulking and get up from the couch, though.

Steve flicked on the light, which made you groan and pull on the strings of the hoodie so that your eyes were covered too, and then he walked over to where the record player sat atop a low shelf that was full of books, magazines, and random trinkets including a pink piggy bank that contained stray arcade tokens rather than actual money. He turned off the record player, putting a stop to the Abbey Road vinyl that you had been playing on repeat for hours. You absolutely detested The Beatles so whenever you were in a melancholic mood, it felt only right to play their music.

“Our neighbors probably hate us now,” Steve said as he joined you on the couch, moving your legs for a moment so that he could sit down and then placing them over his lap. “If we don’t get the cookie basket from Miss Johnson for Christmas, I fully blame you.”

He expected that to get a laugh or at least a smile out of you. The mention of the sweet old woman a few doors down who had given you two a welcome basket full of freshly baked muffins when you moved in and then promised to bring you the cookies that she always made and gave to people in the building during the holidays.

You didn’t do either of those things though. Your mouth felt too stuck in a straight line to even think about smiling. Therefore, you instead disregarded everything Steve had said since he’d entered the apartment and mumbled, “Why are guys such idiots?”

He placed a hand over his heart as if he’d just been wounded. “Ouch.”

You pulled the hood off your head and then propped yourself up by your elbows to finally look at him. “Obviously, you’re the exception.” You then thought about your words for a brief moment. “Well, sometimes.”

“Double ouch,” He said. “But yes, guys are idiots. Which one are you talking about, in particular? Charlie?”

You sighed and looked away. “Sadly.”

“He’s lasted longer than I expected,” Steve told you. He fully thought that the crush you had on this guy from your early morning Statistics class wouldn’t stem past a few weeks.

“At this point, I wish I didn’t like him anymore,” You responded and then looked at Steve again, a small amused smile gracing your lips as you thought of something. “Any hot people come into Family Video lately?”

Steve simply laughed and shook his head at you.

It was almost too easy for you to develop a crush on someone. So much so that many of them you wouldn’t even mention to Steve or your other friends because of how fast they’d come and go.

Most of the time, the inevitable abrupt ending of the crushes would leave you feeling something adjacent to heartbreak because most of the guys you’d ended up liking were, in fact, idiots, or you’d feel disappointment because your feelings never lived up to how they were at the beginning of the crush. But there was always still something about the idea of liking someone that was surprisingly fun to you. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a hopeless romantic, but it sometimes felt as if you were exactly that.

You finally sat up from the couch and moved close to Steve. “Okay, spare me the supportive best friend ‘we’ve known each other since we were ten and I only want the best for you’ spiel for a few moments and just answer a quick question for me, okay?”

Although he was completely confused and would’ve killed for more context, Steve nodded at your current antics. “Okay.”

“If we had just finished a really hard test, and you were worried about how you did on it, and I did this,” You grabbed his hand, linking it with yours and giving him the sweetest smile that was typically only reserved for when you were hardcore flirting with someone. “While saying ‘I’m sure you did great,’ you would understand that I have a massive crush on you, right?”

He glanced down at your intertwined hands for a brief moment before ultimately nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly,” You said as you dropped Steve’s hand and then slumped back against the couch. “So Charlie pulling away— no smile back or anything— and simply saying, ‘Thanks. You probably did good too,’ in response to that means either he can’t read my stupidly obvious flirting cues, or he’s not into me. And, honestly, I’m almost certain it’s the second one.” Suddenly you were hit with a fresh wave of sadness and you pulled the hood over your head once again. “Please put back on The Beatles and let me wallow in peace for the rest of the night. I promise I’ll be better by the morning.”

“I’d rather hear Harold running on his squeaky wheel all night than The Beatles on repeat,” He said and you actually perked up at the mention of the pet you two had gotten only a few months ago, barely a week after you’d fully moved into the apartment, the brown and white furry creature formally known as “Harold the Hamster.”

Currently, he was sleeping only a few feet away in his cage that sat on the coffee table. Somehow he managed to be completely unbothered by the music you’d been loudly playing.

“Okay, how about this,” Steve started. “Let’s order a pizza from that place close by. I’ll even suffer and let you put olives on it.”

You pushed the hood off your head again so that you could look at your best friend, only slightly intrigued by what he was saying. “Keep talking…”

“And then we’ll watch The Breakfast Club because you love it and you immediately rented it out from Family Video when we got it in,” He continued and you perked up even more at the mention of one of your favorite movies. “Which, by the way, is a copy that is weeks overdue and has probably racked up an insane amount of late fees at this point.”

You smiled at him. “Good thing I know someone who works there. And he would never let me pay any late fees.”

“Wow, he sounds like a great guy.”

You shrugged as you looked away from Steve. “Meh, he’s alright.”

He immediately poked your side, causing you to laugh loudly. “I’m gonna make you pay all of the late fees now.”

“That’s very evil,” You said with a shake of your head, but you were still laughing because you knew that he wasn’t being serious.

Steve ordered the pizza as you put the Breakfast Club tape in and then you both settled on the couch again. You had probably watched the movie five times since you rented it, but somehow you hadn’t grown tired of it yet. Instead, it managed to effectively take your mind off of Charlie and the entire situation with him, at least for the time being.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve may have been the one who worked at Family Video, but you knew that place so well it was almost as if you worked there too. His almost never-changing schedule was practically seared into your brain, and you knew the exact times the place was always busy and the moments when it was pretty much dead aside from a handful of random customers.

Somehow Fridays at noon were one of the store’s emptiest times.

Steve was standing behind the counter sorting through movies on a cart when you walked in.

“Hello,” You smiled at him. “I come bearing one not-at-all overdue copy of The Breakfast Club and very fun news.”

Steve was quick to smile back when he saw you, but it dropped when it seemed as if he remembered something. “Shouldn’t you be in your Psychology class right now?” Just like you knew his schedule like the back of your hand, he knew yours. “Your parents will find a way to blame me if you’ve dropped out of school, y’know.”

“My professor canceled last minute; her sister went into labor. So, don’t worry, you won’t be hearing any sort of lecture from my parents,” You answered as you dug in your bag for the movie.

Steve grabbed it from your outstretched hand and placed it on the cart before looking back at you. “What's your news?”

“Okay, so remember when we were ten and on that cruise, and you liked this random girl from New Jersey— Rebecca, I’m pretty sure her name was?” You said. “She was sixteen, completely unattainable, but I still tried to help you talk to her.”

That cruise was actually when you and Steve met. It was a very weird serendipitous kind of moment where your parents bumped into his at the buffet one of the first few days and found out that they not only lived in Indiana, but in a town that was two over from yours, and they even had a son that was the same age as you.

You had been somewhere sitting by the pool when this romcom-esque “meet cute” happened, but when your parents found you, they introduced you to Steve. Although at first, it felt like a friendship that was being forced upon you both, it was still nice to have someone other than your parents— actually, someone better than your parents— to hang out with on the ten-day trip.

You beat him countless times at air hockey at the arcade onboard and the two of you spent most of the nights successfully sneaking into the “club” that was only meant for kids fifteen and up— which was where his crush on Rebecca began and subsequently ended.

“Yes, I remember that, not my finest moment. But, I also don’t blame her, it probably would’ve been weirder if she wanted to flirt back to a ten-year-old,” Steve responded and then furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, I’m confused, though. Is your news that you found her or something?”

You immediately shook your head at his question. “No, what I’m gonna say actually has nothing to do with that, but I wanted to remind you of how supportive I was of you during that time, and how supportive you should be of me right now with what I’m about to say.”

“I’ll always support you,” He didn’t hesitate to tell you. “Unless you’re pitching the matching tattoos idea again. And then, in that case, I guess our decade-long friendship will have to end here.”

“One day I’ll eventually convince you to do it; mark my words. And the tattoo will be one of those stupidly cringey ones where we each get a flower with the other person’s name blooming out of it.”

Steve did nothing but groan and shake his head at you, which only made you laugh.

“But, anyway, my actual news is that we’re having a party tonight,” You said and then continued before he could say anything in response just yet. “Kind of like a housewarming party. I realized that we never really had one.”

“We did have one.”

You shook your head and let out a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Robin and Eddie coming over on our first night and all of us smoking weed on the fire escape and then falling asleep on our mattresses in the living room because we didn’t have any furniture yet did not count as our housewarming party.”

Steve laughed a bit. “It was very fun, though.”

“It was great,” You agreed with a nod. “But, not an actual party, so that's why we're having one tonight.”

Steve only looked at you for a moment and you knew that he was trying to read you. He was the only person that you were certain could completely see through you— he could tell what you were feeling even when it was too hard for you to put those muddled thoughts into words, and he could see right through all of the bullshit you’d spew at times. Sometimes it annoyed you, but most times it felt nice to be so completely seen and understood.

It only took a second for things to seemingly click into place for him. “Is all of this about Charlie?”

“No,” You immediately answered, but you didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.

Of course, Steve didn’t believe you at all and he didn’t have to verbally say that for you to know, the unspoken words were clear in the deadpan look he gave you.

“Okay, fine. Yes, it is,” You said and then sighed as you leaned against the counter. “I saw him today and he said that he was planning to go to this party tonight and he wasn’t that excited about it, but it’s better than doing nothing on a Friday. And then for some insane reason, I blurted out that he should come to my party tonight instead. In hindsight, I probably should’ve immediately backtracked when I said that, but I didn’t and instead, this whole “housewarming party” plan was born.”

“Is there any way I can say no to this?” Steve asked and you quickly shook your head.

“Sorry, but no. Remember what happened on the cruise. Remember how I tried to be helpful with Rebecca,” You told him as you walked around so that you were behind the counter with him. You began sifting through the cart which was full of movies that people had just returned. “And honestly, I just wanna use this party as a last-ditch effort to see if he likes me, and if not then I’ll just make out with someone else at the party to get over him. So, actually, this is a win-win situation no matter what, and this party needs to happen.”

Steve only sighed in response at first, which made you look at him again. He then was quiet for a moment before ultimately nodding and plastering on the brightest and fakest smile you’d probably ever seen from him. “Okay, fine, let’s throw the best two months late housewarming party ever.”

You smiled back at him. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to tell you.

One of the main things being how even though he hadn’t met him yet, he knew that Charlie definitely didn’t deserve you basically throwing a whole party for him just for you to see if he liked you back. Also, how actually most of the guys you ended up crushing on didn’t deserve your attention for a second.

However, he knew that he couldn’t tell you any of that. Not when you’d been there through his ups and downs when it came to dating, and not when you were always supportive; even though a lot of the time it was easy to tell that you weren’t the biggest fan of the girls he went out with.

Early on in your friendship, it was unspokenly decided that bearing through each other’s plethora of shitty relationships just came with the territory of being best friends, and whenever things inevitably went downhill you’d both just be there for each other to pick up the metaphoric pieces.

However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t internally roll his eyes when about an hour into the party he finally did meet Charlie. It was a brief interaction where you introduced them when he entered the apartment and then Steve almost immediately walked away because he knew that you wanted to be alone with Charlie. Well, as “alone” as you two could be with a party that was in full swing around you.

Your shared apartment quickly became full of at least forty people. It was a mix of people from your classes, the small handful of people from high school that you still sometimes talked to, a bunch of people that Steve knew, and anyone else that Robin and Eddie also wanted to invite. For a party thrown together at the last possible second, you both had to admit that it was a pretty solid turnout.

And also for a party that Steve hadn’t really wanted to have in the first place, he was actually having a good time. He was playing a drinking game version of Uno with Robin and a few others circled around the coffee table; Harold’s cage was placed next to him on the couch for the time being.

After a second round in a row where Robin won— she was always crazy good at the game— Steve wanted to ask you to join because he knew how much you loved the game, even though you were very bad at it. He was even tipsy enough that he would’ve been fine with Charlie joining in as well.

He looked around, trying to find you, and it was something that should’ve happened in seconds. No matter what, it was always somehow easy to spot each other in any sort of crowded room— how effortless it always was almost felt equivalent to some weird kind of party trick. However, this time, Steve couldn’t find you.

At first, he thought that that meant that things were going well with Charlie, but when he eventually spotted him standing in the kitchen talking and smiling at a girl who was definitely not you, he had a feeling that things had probably gone the opposite.

“I’m gonna sit out this round,” Steve said to Robin as he got up from the couch.

The short walk to your bedroom was more difficult than expected because maneuvering through all of the people in the apartment proved to be a battle in itself. He ignored the sign on your door that said “Keep Out!” which you put up right before the party started to discourage people from going into your room and using it as a place to make out or have sex; Steve also had a sign on his door.

When he walked in, he didn’t see you on your bed or sitting at your desk, or even lying on the floor, so he headed to the door right next to your closet that led to your bathroom.

“Hey, you in there?”

Twenty minutes ago, when you went into your bathroom, you had initially thought that you didn’t want to talk to or see anyone— you wanted to wallow alone and in silence. But, it turned out that hearing Steve’s voice right then didn’t annoy you or make you upset. Instead, it was the exact voice you wanted to hear in that moment— because, of course, Steve never counted as just anyone.

You were sitting in your empty white tub. The cool porcelain felt nice against the exposed parts of your skin that the dress you were wearing didn’t cover, and you thought that the small confines of your bathroom would be the perfect place to spend the rest of your night; a night that had gone downhill almost too fast.

“Yes,” You mumbled, but it was loud enough for Steve to hear.

“Can I come in?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yes. But, please don’t turn on the light.”

“Okay.”

You heard the door open then close and then the sound of the shower curtain being pushed to the side caught your attention and you looked up at Steve.

“What happened?” He asked. Your eyes had long adjusted to the darkness so you could make out his face fairly well and you could see the concerned look on it.

“I don’t wanna lie and say nothing, but I also don’t really wanna talk about it right now.”

“That’s okay,” He said with a small nod. “Can I sit?”

You didn’t verbally answer and instead simply pulled your knees up to make room in the tub for him. He got in, pulling his knees up as well, and for a few moments, it was quiet. You could faintly hear the sound of music coming from the living room, but you couldn’t fully make out whatever vinyl Eddie decided to play on the record player.

“Someone gave us a plant,” Steve told you, breaking the silence. “Housewarming gift.”

“Oh, no,” You responded with a small sigh. You and Steve were probably the least “green thumb” people ever. “It’s gonna be dead in a week.”

“She said it’s a low-maintenance one so we’ll see how true that is,” He said as he shrugged. “Now that I’m thinking about it, though, is it weird that we can easily take care of a hamster, but a plant will barely last a week with us?”

You shook your head. “Harold provides us constant love and affection— even when he’s running on his squeaky wheel at three in the morning, it’s somehow still adorable— a plant does not do that. So, which one are we gonna remember to care for?”

“Very, very true.”

“At least one person gave us a gift, though,” You said. “Now that I’m remembering that we called this a housewarming party, I’m actually kinda upset that we didn’t get any more presents. Where’s our fancy plates and cookware, or even a nice throw blanket?”

You were only slightly joking with your statement, you would’ve actually loved getting a blanket.

Steve laughed a bit. “If that’s what you wanted then we should’ve invited our moms and their friends.”

“Fuck, we really should’ve done that when we moved in. Such a missed opportunity.”

“I fully think that if we did do that our apartment would look eerily similar to Miss Johnson’s,” Steve said and you could imagine it completely. Frilly white curtains in the living room instead of the black ones that were currently up that blocked out the sun perfectly, and flowery pillows on the gray couch instead of the sage green ones that you found on sale a few weeks ago.

You inwardly shuddered at the thought. “Okay, yes, that’s probably true, but at least we would be using nice plates and not the Mickey Mouse ones we got from that thrift shop.”

Steve jokingly gasped, offended. “I love those Mickey plates, actually.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Just for a moment, it was nice to completely forget about what happened not even an hour ago and what led you to essentially hide away in your bathroom in the first place.

Things got quiet again and it was the kind of silence that you liked; the kind that made you feel completely comfortable with spending the rest of the night avoiding everything and staying right there in your tub with Steve, and you knew that he would’ve been okay with that too. Even though your bodies would’ve probably started aching after just thirty minutes of being in this position, and he was taller so it would be worse for him, he wouldn’t have complained.

You focused on the muffled sound of the music playing in the living room. This time you managed to make out the familiar beat of the song; Somebody to Love by Queen. You let out a sigh because that song playing right then somehow felt way too on the nose.

Steve reached over and lightly poked your knee. “You okay?”

You were so close to pushing the question away again, avoiding the topic and bringing up something else completely— maybe saying that you actually loved those damn Mickey Mouse plates too— but you actually didn’t feel like brushing the topic away anymore.

“He doesn’t like me,” You abruptly said, voice quiet. “I was tired of trying to read between lines and shit, so I just asked him, and he said no.”

You noticed the sad look cross Steve’s face, which only made a fresh wave of embarrassment and sadness wash over you, but you kept going before he could say anything just yet. “And then to make that whole moment even more embarrassing for me, after he said no he pointed at this girl— I don’t know her name, I think Robin invited her— and asked if I knew if she was single or not.”

Steve’s response of “What the fuck,” was immediate and it was really nice hearing how angry he was on your behalf and it made you smile a bit.

“This past hour has been extremely humbling for me. And I know I said I’d find someone to make out with if things didn’t work out with Charlie, but I’m not even in the mood to do that,” You told him as you leaned back against the cool tub and closed your eyes. “And you wanna know what the worst part of all of this is?”

“What?” “I’m not even drunk right now, so I’ll sadly remember all of this tomorrow.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you expected Steve to say in response to that, but you fully did not expect him to laugh. You opened your eyes and lightly kicked his leg. “Wow, thank you for laughing at my pain.”

“I’m sorry. I am a little drunk right now, so you saying that you’re not is kind of funny because it feels like the roles are reversed,” He said and you slightly hated how right he was. At any party you went to, he was usually the sober-ish one helping you out whenever you drank too much. “Robin and I were playing the Uno drinking game with some people.”

“What? I can’t believe I missed that.”

“We can go play it now. You’d honestly probably win for once since you’re the only one of us who isn’t drunk.”

“Ha ha,” You said with a roll of your eyes as you reached forward so that you could playfully hit him. “I know I’m the worst at that game, but it doesn’t make it any less fun.”

“Okay, come on, let’s go play,” Steve said before standing up, and then reaching his hands out toward you so that he could help you up.

He was trying to cheer you up, you could clearly see that, and you almost took him up on his suggestion. But, the thought of leaving your bathroom or even the comfort of the tub didn’t sit well with you. Mainly since you were unsure if Charlie was still out there and you didn’t want to see him or what he was doing because you knew you’d only feel embarrassed all over again. Yes, it was your apartment and you could’ve easily kicked him out if he was still there, but it felt so much easier to simply stay right where you were.

You looked up at Steve and shook your head. “I don’t really wanna play, actually.”

Steve sat back down with you. “Okay, I haven’t seen you this upset over a guy in a long time. What is it about Charlie? Why is he so special?”

It only took a second for an answer to come to your mind because it was something that you had actually been thinking about a lot lately but had yet to verbalize it.

“I don’t– I don’t even think it’s really about him specifically. It’s just, I’m so tired of having crushes— of liking a guy and it going absolutely nowhere… I want something real. It’s been what feels like forever, and the last time was with that guy whose name we will never say in this house. And we both know how that horrific relationship ended.” It was rare that you ever talked about that relationship anymore, so hearing you mention it right then— even in just a minor way— actually surprised Steve, it even surprised you a little bit. That relationship was something that went on from the end of your Sophomore year of high school to the middle of Junior year; close to a year of your life that you really wished you could get back because you put up with a lot of shit that you now knew you shouldn’t have.

“I want something good for once, and I thought that maybe I could have that with Charlie. I thought maybe he wasn’t an asshole. But, now I’m back at fucking square one, and it’s just so…” You trailed off with a sigh, not bothering to finish your statement.

“It’ll happen. You’ll find someone. Someone actually good,” Steve told you, his voice was soft and you could hear the sincerity behind his words.

You let out a sigh and leaned your head back against the wall. “Sometimes I hate talking about relationship stuff with you.”

“What? Why?” Steve asked. He sounded genuinely confused and for a second you felt bad because there wasn’t supposed to be anything you didn’t like talking about with him— you were best friends.

“Because you can get a date with any girl ever, and you could probably easily be in a committed, serious thing if you wanted to. Meanwhile, I’m getting rejected left and right or falling for complete idiots,” You answered, letting the words fall out and not really thinking about them too much because they just felt way too true. However, once they fully registered in your head, you could feel yourself inwardly cringing. “Ew. Oh, God, I sound pathetic. Please forget I said anything.”

“It’s not true,” Steve told you with an immediate shake of his head. You almost said “Which part?” but he continued before you could ask that question. “I go on dates, yeah. But, none of them are close to, or are even leading to, something real. Even if I wanted it to, the girls I date don’t want something real with me.”

You considered his words for a second. “Well, in that case, they’re idiots.”

“Charlie’s an idiot too.”

“Cheers to that,” You responded. “God, I wish I was drunk right now.”

Steve laughed at your words and then opened his mouth to say something. For some reason, you had a feeling that he was going to try and coax you out of the bathroom again, and you were still unsure if you wanted to get up just yet, so you decided to say something before he could. “Do you ever want something serious?”

He was quiet for a second, as if really thinking about your question. “I don’t know… It changes a lot.” You nodded at that before he continued. “Most of the time I think I do, though.”

“Well, with what you just said about the girls you date and with what happened to me tonight, I think you and I are just gonna be alone together forever.”

He let out a small laugh. “I think so too.”

You smiled at him. “And I know that should sound at least a little bit sad, but right now, it honestly doesn’t.”

He smiled back at you. “Yeah, that actually sounds okay.”

Neither of you got the chance to say anything else because the sound of the door opening caught both of your attention.

“Okay, two things,” You both recognized Robin’s voice before she pulled back the curtain to look down at you two. “One, I really need to pee so I need you both to get out of here, please. And two, Eddie pulled Harold out of his cage and is trying to teach him to do tricks.”

You groaned as you started standing up. “Oh, God. Not again.”

Steve followed suit, standing up as well, as he rolled his eyes. “Why is that always his go-to thing to do when he’s high?”

Robin laughed, you easily noticed how tipsy she was. “And what makes it even funnier is that he does this all the time but Harold has not actually learned any “trick” yet.”

“The day that Eddie somehow teaches him how to “roll over,” I will pass away in shock,” You said as you adjusted your dress, fixing how much it had ridden up while you were sitting in the tub.

You and Steve stepped out of your bathroom to let Robin use it. But, you hesitated to open your bedroom door and let you two step back into the party happening in the rest of the apartment.

Steve easily noticed your hesitation and his hand found yours, giving it a light reassuring squeeze. “You handle Eddie, and if Charlie is still here, I’ll tell him to leave, okay?”

You inwardly sighed in relief hearing him say that because, of course, he knew the exact thing you had been worried about.

“Thanks.” There was so much more said in the simple one-word— thank you for reading my mind, thank you for always being able to do so, thank you for being the best goddamn person in my life.

Steve nodded and gave your hand another squeeze, hearing all of those underlying words and then some. “I have been waiting all night to do this, actually, so thank you. And we’re playing the Uno drinking game after.”

You smiled at that and gave him a quick nod. “Okay.”

You then opened your door and stepped out, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze of your own before pulling away as you started making your way toward Eddie, who was sitting on the couch with Harold in his lap. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected when you briefly noticed Charlie standing in your kitchen and talking to the same girl he had pointed out to you earlier.

“Edward Munson put Harold back in his cage right now.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(also requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 days ago

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hello! do you have any notes on the second point of view??

Writing Notes: Second Person POV

Second Person Point of View - structured around the “you” pronoun, and is less common in novel-length work.

Example: “You thought you could do it.”

Second person can allow you to draw your reader into the story and make them feel like they’re part of the action because the narrator is speaking directly to them.

Writing in second person for any great length is a challenge, and will stretch your writing skills.

Lorrie Moore is well-known for her innovative use of second person narration in her short story collection Self-Help (1985).

Sometimes referred to as second person POV.

Second-Person Narration is a little-used technique of narrative in which the action is driven by a character ascribed to the reader, one known as you.

The reader is immersed into the narrative as a character involved in the story.

The narrator describes what "you" do and lets you into your own thoughts and background.

The most well-known piece of fiction that employs second-person narration might be Jay McInerney’s novel Bright Lights, Big City.

At the subway station you wait fifteen minutes on the platform for a train. Finally a local, enervated by graffiti, shuffles into the station. You get a seat and hoist a copy of the New York Post. The Post is the most shameful of your several addictions. — Jay McInerney, Bright Lights, Big City, 1984

You will also find second-person narration used in the "Choose Your Own Adventure" style of books popular with younger readers, in which readers determine where the story goes by which page they turn to next. Allowing the reader to "be" the central character in the story provides an immersive reading experience, enhancing what is at stake for the character and reader.

Second-person point of view directly addresses the reader, works well for giving advice or explaining how to do something.

A process analysis paper would be a good choice for using the second-person point of view, as shown in this paragraph:

In order to prepare microwave popcorn, you will need a microwave and a box of microwave popcorn which you’ve purchased at a grocery store. First of all, you need to remove the popcorn package from the box and take off the plastic wrap. Next, open your microwave and place the package in the center with the proper side up. Then set your microwave for the suggested number of minutes as stated on the box. Finally, when the popcorn is popped, you’re ready for a great treat.

While the example above outlines best use of second person, academic writing often avoids second-person point of view in favor of third-person point of view.

Second person can be too casual for formal writing, and it can also alienate the reader if the reader does not identify with the idea.

Second person point of view is often used in:

Nonfiction, like self-help books.

Immersive mediums, like video games.

Advertising slogans, which aim to sell a good or service.

Song lyrics, which connect with the listener by placing him or her directly into the narrative.

Although the second person is a less common choice for fiction writing, when done well, it can give a story a unique and powerful perspective.

Reasons to Write in Second Person POV

Writing in second person point of view has its challenges—mainly, asking the reader to suspend belief to the point where they imagine themselves to be part of the story. However, there are also advantages to using second person point of view. Second person point of view can:

Present an uncommon point of view. Second person is rare in literary fiction. Most novels are written in one of two styles: first person, which involves a narrator who tells their story, (“I ran toward the gate.”), or the third person, which is the author telling a story about a character (“He woke up that morning.”). One of the first popular novels to successfully use the second person was Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City, which put the reader in the center of a fast-paced, party lifestyle in New York.

Create excitement. Second person takes the reader and puts them in the middle of the action. In the Choose Your Own Adventure books, a popular children’s series, the reader is in the driver’s seat, instructed to make decisions that direct the plot.

Provide an opportunity to reflect. Writing in second person provides authors with the opportunity to reflect. Always a writer to push the limits of storytelling, Margaret Atwood has used second person in several short stories, like Bread. By using “you,” Atwood forces the reader to examine societal inequalities.

Adding humor. Approaching a story with a unique perspective, like a second person point of view, can help add levity. In Lorrie Moore’s short story How To Become a Writer, she uses the second-person narrative voice to try to convince the reader to become an astronaut, or a movie star—anything other than a writer.

Tips For Writing in Second Person

Follow these tips if you’ve settled on writing in the “you”:

Study those who went before you. While stories told in the second person are less common than first and third-person points of view, there are plenty of novels and short stories that can show you how it’s done. Other works worth investigating are Tom Robbins’ Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas and Italo Calvino’s If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler.

Imitate the masters. Take a well-known book written in the first or third person and try writing a page from a second person point of view. Dan Brown wrote his Robert Langdon series— Angels & Demons, The Da Vinci Code, Inferno, and Origin—in the close third person. Pick an action-packed page and rewrite it as if the reader was Robert Langdon.

Stay conscious of the narrative voice. Second person point of view can be difficult to articulate and it’s easy to slip into writing from your perspective. Be vigilant about always thinking of who the character is and remove yourself from the equation.

Be descriptive. People are used to making observations when reading a book. If you put the responsibility of character or protagonist on the reader, it’s your job to make it credible. Bring them into the world by elaborating on details. Appeal to their senses and emotions with vivid detail to describe the setting, other characters, and events.

Stay present. To ramp up the tension, use the present tense. It brings the reader in even closer and adds to the pacing of the plot. Using present tense and active verbs make it feel like it’s happening in real time. Read The Diver’s Clothes Lie Empty by Vendela Vida, a second person, present-tense story chronicling a woman’s journey through Morocco.

IN ACADEMIC WRITING. Replacing "You":

Sometimes you needs to be replaced with nouns or proper nouns to create more formality to clarify the idea. Here are some examples:

Inappropriate Use of "You" — Revised to Replace "You"

Quality of education decreases when you allow overcrowded classrooms. (Are you, the reader, allowing the conditions?) — Quality of education decreases when state legislators allow overcrowded classrooms. (Identifies who is doing what.)

On Saturday afternoons, you usually have to stand in long lines to buy groceries. (Are you, the reader, shopping in on this day and time?) — Saturday afternoon shoppers usually have to stand in long lines to buy groceries. (Identifies who is doing what.)

In many states, you have prisons with few rehabilitation programs. (Do you, the reader, have prisons?) — In many states, prisons have few rehabilitation programs. (Identifies the actual subject of the sentence.)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps with your writing!

#pov #second person pov #writing tips #writing advice #writeblr #writing inspiration #creative writing #literature #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #on writing #spilled ink #dark academia #writing reference #light academia #writing ideas #writing resources

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space-invading-pigeon · 10 months ago

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Look I love the Steve has Awful Parents trope but hear me out: Steve's parents are genuinely great people, but his dad's a bit of an idiot and his mom has to be supervised because she never quite learned how to watch her mouth. Steve has some pretty severe anxiety so he genuinely thinks his parents hate him if they aren't there to reassure him.

His dad, Samuel Harrington, is smart but dense; he misses a lot of social cues and sometimes has to be reminded to do basic functions like brushing his teeth or taking his socks off before stepping into the shower. He's bigger than Hop and crazy strong, but is the definition of a pushover when it comes to his family.

Now his mom, Penelope, is small and looks like a shy, demure housewife; she's a shark in human form. She's petty and a bit vindictive, but she has a soft spot for kids and (most of the time) her husband. Her best friend from high school, Wayne Munson, is the only person to insult her and not regret it (he uses that power to make sure she stays humble).

The annual, month-long trip that Samuel Harrington has to take every November means that they aren't around for the first two years of the worst experience of Steve's life, but the summer of 1985, Penelope Harrington gets into a fistfight with a firefighter after he tries to stop her from entering the mall when she hears little Erica Sinclair screaming about her brother and friends still being in the burning building. Samuel Harrington is holding her off the ground as she spits vitriol at the useless first responders when he catches sight of Steve and just walks away from the person his wife has reduced to tears. They lose sight of everything except Steve, sitting beaten and bloody in the back of an ambulance, clutching his coworker with one arm and cradling his other arm to his chest.

#steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #guess whos back on this hellsite #found this in my drafts #its definitely not done but im giving it to you anyway because otherwise it will never be finished

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stopthatfool · 9 months ago

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thinking about twink maverick and wondering how people think he’s a twink. genuinely. I look at these images and see, while yes a short man, a man who is also muscular and probably weighs a ton in pure muscle

If he’s a twink then everyone in that movie is a twink. and i dont think that’s correct.

According to wikipedia, this is what they say twinks are:

So let’s break this down.

1. Late teens to twenties

Sure. Maverick is in his twenties. But only looking at age would technically make me a twink so whatever. Let’s move on.

2. Slim to average physique

Maverick does not have an average physique. That man is built. He is in peak physical condition. He doesnt just sometimes work out, he is actively working out. Look at his arms! His trapezius! Those muscles are clearly developed and strong! In certain uniforms, his waist appears smaller, but that’s what the flight suit does to all silhouettes. Maverick is built like a brick, yes with hips, but he’s not little. He’s short of course, but he’s not small. He’s not lithe, he is muscular, he is BUILT! Look at the left bottom picture. Look at how rectangular. Look at how NOT lithe he is. Look at how not skinny he is. Like come on now.

3. Youthful/feminine appearance

While he is extremely youthful looking as Tom Cruise always appears, i disagree that tom cruise/maverick in Top Gun looks feminine. But that’s not to say that tom cruise has never appeared feminine or twink-like in any way. Legend (1985) is an example of his twink and feminine abilities. But for maverick i would argue that he looks very masculine. Boyish, which some argue is another visual feature for twinks, but not feminine (in my humble opinion).

4. Little to no body hair

To think that maverick has no body hair is just maverick unibrow erasure and i wont stand for it. But seriously. While tom cruise was waxed and oiled up for top gun, this is also happy trail erasure. I will now provide proof.

One of them is from mission impossible but um idc. It’s proof that Maverick HAS body hair, both around his chest and in … lower areas… but Maverick is not hairless enough to be a twink, especially because he doesnt fall into the other necessary categories to excuse/ignore his body hair.

5. (Kind of a half point because not all definitions and understandings of the word twink align with this) but it seems a lot of modern connotations of the word twink are parallel to exclusively bottoming

See here the most popular definition of the word twink on urban dictionary. I dont think that Maverick exclusively bottoms. Maverick FUCKS too. Like it’s not just Ice doing the fucking. Like Mav fucks. He fucks, guys you dont understand he fucks.

Therefore, Maverick, in my opinion, is not a twink. He is Maverick. The end.

#coming out of hibernation to argue that maverick isnt a twink #this isnt anything against twinks like im not anti twink and just pro lets use these slang terms semi correctly #dont ask me about my thoughts about the term twunk #it’s complex feelings #also i dont touch on flamboyancey because what the fuck does that even mean anymore #nothing means anything and everything means nothing #top gun #top gun 1986 #maverick #pete maverick mitchell #stopthatfool debates the meanings and labels of gay slang terms and whether they apply to fictional characters #aka stopthatfool goes fucking crazy and dies #stopthatfool goes crazy and explodes #icemav #because they both fuck #tom iceman kazansky #iceman

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colleendoran · 2 years ago

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Misunderstanding

I received a note from someone who was upset I “failed to cite Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics” in my research for my work on Neil Gaiman's Chivalry and the essays I wrote about it.

I really appreciate that people want to make sure credit goes where it's due, and I have a lot of respect for Scott McCloud's accomplishment with his wonderful book.

I haven't read it myself in some years, and didn't cite it in my articles because I didn't reference it. I don't even know where my copy is so I don't know what McCloud referenced, either.

The information in my articles re: illuminated manuscripts and the Bayeux Tapestry, as well as other theories about the development of sequential art from prehistory, not only predate McCloud's work (and in fact, predate McCloud's birth,) but they are so common and so well known in comics circles that asking me to cite them seems as weird to me as asking me to cite the information that George Washington was the first President of the United States.

A part of me wonders if someone is trying to play, "Let's you and him fight."

No.

But I’m happy to bring to your attention some reading material.

Stephen Becker in his 1959 work Comic Art in America: A Social History of the Funnies, the Political Cartoons, Magazine Humor, Sporting Cartoons, and Animated Cartoons was among the first to discuss the Bayeux Tapestry as comic art. I read that book sometime in the 1980’s. I think a lot of people assume the Bayeux tapestry as comic art was McCloud’s idea, but we don’t all walk around with a reference library in our heads, so there you go. I can’t find my copy of Becker’s work to quote, but I did find an article by Arthur Asa Berger with a mention of the Bayeux Tapestry as comic art in the summer 1978 issue of The Wilson Quarterly.

My first exposure to the idea of comics as descendant of fine art was Maurice Horn’s 1976 The World Encyclopedia of Comics which was my first read re: comics history. I still have my tattered 1976 edition.

While Horn scorned the idea that tapestries and manuscripts could be comic art (see, it was a matter of discussion way back then, so much so that authors were writing snarky asides to one another about it,) he believed the origin of sequential art was in the Renaissance sketches of Leonardo da Vinci - which I think everyone now agrees is kind of a bonkers idea.

I think Horn was just intent on elevating the comic art form by hooking up with da Vinci.

You go, boi.

Comics as descendant of art on scrolls is a very common theory, the easiest to trace being in Manga! Manga! The World of Japanese Comics by Fred Schodt published in 1983 when I was still a teenager. I can't find my copy to show examples, but this text is still in print and you can go read it for yourself.

I was introduced to manga by cartoonist Leslie Sternbergh and bought Schodt’s book at Books Kinokuniya on (I think) a trip to New York around the time of first publication of Schodt’s work. And years later took a trip to Japan with Fred Schodt and a group of cartoonists including Jeff Smith and Jules Fieffer, Nicole Hollander, and Denys Cowan as the guests of Tezuka Productions.

Here we all are.

So, I’m familiar with manga, see.

As for comics as descendant of cave paintings, hieroglyphics and ancient art in general, Will Eisner’s 1985 Comics and Sequential Art not only made all of those points, but made those points with comic art examples. Like these.

And this.

And more than a few words on this:

I find it amusing that someone is questioning why I didn’t cite McCloud when what you should probably be questioning is why more people don’t cite Eisner who produced his book eight years before McCloud published his and who is well known to have influenced McCloud.

Whatever. My book's autographed.

I also danced with Eisner. Eat your heart out.

Understanding Comics is a terrific work with huge advantages over every book (that I know of) about comics that came before: it taught comics entirely in the language of comics.

But the discussion in it about the origins of comics and my work especially re: illuminated manuscripts/tapestries, did not originate with McCloud. I research illuminated manuscripts because it’s my hobby and it informs my art.

I encourage everyone to read Understanding Comics because it is an outstanding work.

But it’s not the book that introduced me to the concepts of the development of comic art. It’s not even the point of origin of those concepts. So, there is no reason to cite it.

Also, shocking as it may seem, I occasionally come up with ideas on my own. While I'm younger than McCloud, I've actually been a comics pro longer than he has. So I've had plenty of opportunity to, you know, read things and toss things around, and decide for myself.

When I first read Chivalry and first begged Neil Gaiman to let me adapt it, my head full of the work of Alberto Sangorski and his art for Tennyson’s Le Morte D’Arthur, Understanding Comics hadn’t been published yet.

It's been a good twelve years since I last read McCloud's work, and I don't think I've spoken to him five times in the last three decades. But I'm pretty sure he never mentioned Sangorski.

I hope that clears everything up, and maybe introduces some of you to some works you might not be aware of.

Have a great day.

#understanding comics #comics history #neil gaiman #scott mccloud #chivalry #jules fieffer #tezuka productions #manga #will eisner

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r4fe-cam3ron · 2 months ago

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— BUT I WILL TRY TO DROWN YOU OUT | e. munson x reader

| warnings; this is a flashback so this is to my ‘truck driver!eddie’ au (this can also just read as a plain eddie fic!), i try to keep this as gn as i can - but sometimes there will be a few slip ups, FATHERS!!!!!!, eddie has a sister, this one is slightly long, mentions of alcohol, abuse, and blood!

| an; i’ve missed writing for him and his little family so so much :( but i wanted to do some more back stories for this au as well!

— special tags; @munsonbee - you always have the most wonderful things to say about this au and i will never be able to thank you enough for showing so much love to this and me :(

— THANKSGIVING | 1985.

Eddie fears that this was forever. This…sickness that he inherited from his father. The pushing away, the pulling back when things get too hard too quick.

Or maybe things were good and he had to ruin them just as his father did.

You had arrived, catching Eddie slightly off guard. Especially from the two trays you carry inside the trailer. He blinked owlishly, which caused Wayne to smack the back of his head in a teasing manner.

“Go help. I raised you better than that, boy.”

Eddie was quick to stand then, hopping off the bench where he had sat next to Wayne, jogging up the steps and inside to the warm house. “Uh, what are you doing here?” He wipes the sweat from his palms, watching as you shove something into the stove under the ham that Wayne had been cooking.

You shrug and turn to the refrigerator now, pushing what looked like a pie inside. You then walk to him, folding your fingers in front of you as you rock on your heels with a shy smile - you look so pretty Eddie short circuits.

“I wanted to see you,” You nod. “My family always has our thanksgiving meal early. And my mom talked to Wayne before I just popped up.”

Eddie smiles softly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

You nod and step closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders now. “I know. Still - manners and all,” You move your head side to side. He grins and presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you close. “Would you want to come stay with me tonight? We're setting up the Christmas tree.”

He chuckles and you pull away, pouting at him. “Why are you laughing? It’s tradition.”

“For you. I think it’s ridiculous.”

Your arms slightly loosen their hold when the words slip out, the playful pout now a frown as you look away from him. “I mean, you don’t have to come,” You shake your head and pull away from him. “I just thought since Wayne has to leave tonight you’d have someone to stay with on the holiday.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s just another day.”

Slightly pursing your lips together, you only nod this time. You turn from him and walk into the kitchen, opening the cabinets. Eddie’s suddenly confused but ignores it, stepping into the kitchen as well.

“Need help?”

“No.” You reply shortly, turning towards the table and placing three plates out onto the table.

“Add another,” Wayne’s voice catches her off guard, looking over at him. “Uh, Alan is coming.” His eyes cut over to Eddie who’s jaw ticks slightly.

You only nod, walking over and grab another plate, placing it down onto the table along with the others.

When Alan Munson arrives - Eddie’s honestly surprised - there’s another woman on his arm, and an air of cockiness, cheap cologne, cigarettes and leather. He’s loud - extremely loud.

The woman next to him - Alison you come to learn - is a pretty brunette with wide eyes, almost like Eddie’s mother’s eyes.

And even if you were still slightly upset at Eddie for his comment earlier - which was a petty comment - your hand grabs his from under the table, squeezing when you feel his foot bouncing.

He barely touches any of Wayne’s ham he had cooked - and it was something he looked forward to every year.

“Don’t waste your food, kid,” Alan slaps his shoulder roughly. Eddie winces slightly, moving closer to you. “Raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me though,” Eddie quickly retorts. “Wayne did. And I can put it up for later - that’s what we usually do on Thanksgiving. If you would’ve been there, you’d know.”

Alan’s chewing slowly comes to a stop, brows lifting slightly as he stares at him. “Watch your tone, Edward.”

“Of course, Alan.” His fork clatters into his plate as he stands, the chair sliding out from under him quickly. You flinch when it hits the wall, the frame rattling.

The door opens before Alan or Wayne could say anything. Georgia steps in, a bottle of wine in her hand as she lifts it up. “Uncle Wayne! Eds!” Her voice is slightly raspy and her lips pulled into a grin.

It drops when she sees Alan.

“You didn’t tell me he was coming.” Her eyes look at Wayne who finally stands.

“I didn’t think he was going to show up.”

Georgia looks at him. “Always like you to show up randomly.”

“My first born,” He looks at Alison who leans into his chest, cheetah print boots pressing into the floor. “Georgia. Just like her mother with that complaining.”

“Don’t you talk about her like that. Georgia or mom.” Eddie snaps, looking at him.

“Eddie—” You stand from your chair. Alison stands when Alan stands as well, moving out of his way.

“I said to watch your tone, son. I’m not foolin’ ‘round,” Eddie’s stomach churns when the smell of beer drifts into his face. He has the right mind to throw up all over Alan’s snake-skin boots. “Or I’ll make you—”

“What? Regret it?” Eddie steps closer to Alan. He notices the smirk that pulls at his lips. “I’m not some kid you can toss around anymore. I hit back now.”

“Eddie.” Wayne warns him. He knew this is what Alan wanted and he hates that Alan is getting what he wanted. But Eddie is his fathers son. His blood is in his veins - no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

“Maybe Georgia’s more like me,” Alan nods. “You’re more like Elizabeth. I know that defensive look any—”

Eddie throws the first punch before his mind has time to think about it. He watches as Wayne stumbles a bit, the spikes on his boots clicking slightly.

Your hand covers your mouth as you watch with wide eyes, your heart beating in your ears.

Eddie’s anger has multiplied now - it’s burning his fingertips, tingling through his legs. He will not allow a man who never actually knew his mother to talk badly about her.

There are nights when he prays for forgiveness for killing his mom - not that he actually did - but he knows that she would’ve still been here if it weren’t for him.

Eddie knows she loved both him and Georgia fiercely. He also knew that she thought having him would maybe fix Alan like he was when Georgia was born. But now, he sees that he didn’t fix it.

He made it worse.

He killed his mom.

And if he could, he'd time-travel back to before she even met Alan and would warn her. Warn her about how evil he was - the epitome of the devil.

Even if that meant he wouldn’t have a sister.

Even if that meant he wouldn’t be born.

He wished that she would’ve been happy.

He wanted to give his life for hers so she could live again. The only thing she’d be afraid of was bees and not the hand of some man who didn’t even deserve the clothes on his back.

Alan slowly stands from his hunched position, a small laugh breaking free from his busted lip as he shakes his head. “She never fought back though.”

Eddie lets out a scream and he feels the tears that had suddenly dropped down his cheeks. His hands grab the collar of his flannel, tossing him to the ground before anyone could stop him.

There’s a buzzing noise in his ears when his knuckles meet Alan’s face and he can still feel the tears that slip down his cheeks. The punches grow weaker, his bloodied hand dropping to his chest as his shoulders shake with sobs.

He’s knocked onto his back then, Alan shifting onto his knees. The sound of the buckle makes his eyes squeeze shut. He's six years old again after that one time he accidentally stepped on a single cigarette.

He can feel the tingling from the metal across his hands again.

Wayne interferes before the belt could even meet Eddie’s back, shoving Alan into the wall across the room. Eddie stays laying on the ground, shoulders shaking.

You watch as Alan gets tugged out of the trailer now by Wayne’s hand on the back of his head. Alison follows after them quickly. You look down at Eddie, walking over and kneeling by him as your hand lands on his back.

He’s quick to pull away from your touch as if you’d burned him. “Don’t touch me,” He seethes. Your own tears had formed, watching Eddie cry on the ground. “Don’t. I don’t need you or your pity.”

Your heart breaks and you shake your head. “No…No, baby. Don’t—I want…”

“I want you to leave, now,” He stands from the ground. You’d seen too much. You’d seen how frightening he was and that’s how you’re going to remember him for the rest of your life - that’s what he told himself. “You’re only with me because you took me on as a charity case. That’s it. There’s nothing there.”

You quickly stand from the ground, shaking your head rapidly as you reach out for him. He steps away, eyes narrowed at you, expression stern. “No…no, I love you. I’m in love with you, Eddie. Please,” Your voice breaks. “Don’t shut me out. You’re shutting me out.”

“Leave!” His voice makes you flinch and another tear rolls down your cheek as you stare at him. A small noise leaves your throat when you look away, face crumbling as you walk away from him quickly.

Georgia stands there, wine bottle still in her hands as her eyes remain on Eddie. She wanted to lecture him but she also knows now is not the time. He’s shutting himself down and there would be no way of getting through to him until he cools down.

Once he knows you're gone, his shaky hands reach for the pack of cigarettes that are on the counter. He walks past Georgia who now sits on the couch by Wayne, walking out into the cool air.

He stops when he sees Alan, jaw ticking. This is the longest he’s stayed after any type of holiday. He walks down the steps and sits on the last one. He slips the lighter from the pack, lighting the end of the cigarette.

Inhaling deeply, he blows out the smoke and stares up at the sky. It’s silent between the father and son.

“I don’t think you’re a good person.” Eddie finally speaks up.

Alan lets out a small laugh and it causes Eddie’s blood to boil. “And you are?”

Eddie thinks for a moment, inhaling more smoke, letting it swirl in his chest before blowing it out. “I’m too much like you for that,” He says. Alan stays silent and stares at the back of Eddie’s head. “I almost forgot your voice.”

“What?”

“Your voice,” Eddie says. He can’t turn and look at him. “I almost forgot what it sounded like. I was hoping it’d be completely gone from my memories until I could make a new one for you - make you sound more happy. Create different memories than what I have,”

He looks down at the ground. “Then when you popped up - like you always seem to do when you want or need something - everything came back to me. Just like that time you busted my hands up with the metal of your belt - the same one you’re wearing now,” Wayne looks down at his thighs, clenching his jaw.

“Just for…accidentally breaking one cigarette. One,” He puts out the rest of his cigarette and stands. “I wish I could forget your voice instead of mom’s. Because hers,” His voice cracks. “Her’s is almost gone. And she can’t just pop up when she wants to, to remind me what it sounds like.” He makes his way back up the steps and towards the door.

“I did love you all.”

Eddie stops, eyes closing as he shakes his head. “That wasn’t love. That was you angry at your responsibilities and you didn’t know how to handle them. But that wasn’t our fault, Alan. You could’ve left. Saved us the pain,” He looks at his back now. “We wouldn’t have cared.”

Alan says nothing else then. Eddie walks inside, shutting and locking the door behind himself and walks past both Wayne and Georgia again to his room. He falls onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling.

The glow-in-the-dark stars that you’d bought and stuck up on his ceiling lights his room up enough. He stayed silent, his breathing wasn’t as heavy as it was before and his heart had calmed down a significant amount - luckily.

He feels the bed shift and a shoulder brush against his.

“I’ve missed you.” Georgia finally says, eyes staring up at the sticky stars.

“Hm.” Eddie nods, tapping his fingers on his stomach. He doesn’t necessarily believe it - she never calls. Never visit. When she graduated, she left without looking back.

He didn’t hate her for it. But he didn’t like her for it either.

She looks over at him. “I do, Eddie,” She nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you with me. But I just…I needed space from here. From everything that reminded me of—”

“Reminded you of dad,” He nods. “I know. I’m sorry I’m so much like him.”

“Reminded me of mom,” She finishes. He looks over at her. He can make out the quiver of her chin. “From everything that reminded me of her,” Her voice catches in her throat and she sits up, wrapping her hand around her throat, rubbing at the tightness.

“You remind me so much of her and I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I hate her,” She finally blurts. “I hate her so much for leaving. She wasn’t supposed to leave us. He was,”

Eddie slowly sits up now, staring at her. He’s never seen her cry. She was always the one who held it in - wiped his tears. Sometimes Georgia envied how easily he could cry.

“But she’s the one who’s gone. I love her. And I miss her. But I hate her. Everything is so confusing. I-I don’t know…I don’t—” Her chest heaves and hands become shaky as they push through her hair. Eddie pulls her close, hugging her tightly as she had done him so many times as a child.

His eyes close as his cheek presses into the top of her head. “It’s okay…I know,” He whispers. “I know.”

It takes a while, but eventually her sobs are reduced to sniffling. She pulls away, wiping at her face and nose - her head pounds. “Sometimes I believe Alan is a good man,” She says. Eddie looks at her quietly. “He’s good when I compare him to his own father. And…and that’s enough for me not to…for me to try and not hate him,”

Her breath shudders when she inhales and she looks at him. “Dad and I are more alike than I care to admit,” She nods. “And when I feel that pure…rage - that pure anger - I realize how much we are truly alike. And it feels like a sickness that has no cure.”

Eddie stares at Georgia quietly. She always reminded him of their mom - a gentle, caring person who truly would lie their life down on the line for anyone.

He always reminded himself of Alan. A man who pushed and pushed and pushed until everyone around them finally realized there’s no sense in keeping close to him.

But maybe they’re both just like Alan.

“I’m sorry for not calling.” Georgia looks at him with shame.

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s not your fault.”

Georgia says nothing but she knows it is. She stands from his bed. “Call that girl, okay?” She looks at him as he looks down at his blanket. “Or just go to see her.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll still be here for at least three more days until I go back home,” Home. That pained him to hear from her because he wanted somewhere to feel like home. “I want to meet her. But you need to apologize to her.”

Eddie nods slightly. She walks out of his room but turns and peeks back in.

“I love you, buttercup.” Georgia sounds just like their mom.

Eddie looks up, smiling softly when he feels tears pooling in his eyes. He prays he can still remember her voice - even when he’s old and wrinkled.

“I love you, superstar.”

Georgia smiles and grips the door frame slightly before stepping into Wayne’s room he’d given up for three days so she could sleep comfortably.

Eddie stands from his bed, grabbing his warm jacket and slips it on before walking out of his room. He stops when he hears snoring and ticking from the chair.

Looking over at Wayne - a man who welcomed a teenage girl and a young boy into his home - he smiles softly. He steps over, grabbing an extra throw that was on the couch and places it over his knees. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head before stepping outside into the cold.

—

He wants to back out, wait until tomorrow to visit you. He sees the television playing It’s A Wonderful Life, although the movie is almost over. There’s some Christmas lights already hung around inside.

His eyes stop on the tree and his heart pulls in his chest. It was too late to join.

The door opens and he stands up straighter when he notices it’s your mom. “Hi,” He says. He doesn’t know how much you exactly told your parents, but judging from the slight pitiful smile that pulls on her cheeks, you said enough. “Uh…is she—”

“You can come in,” She cuts him off. “It’s cold out and I made my hot chocolate.”

Eddie peeks in and sees you looking at the door at him, arms crossed over your chest. You nod slightly. He then looks back at your mom with a small smile, stepping in when she steps to the side.

She shuts the door softly, locking it behind him. “You’re also staying. Roads are icy and it’s starting to get late.” Eddie follows her into the kitchen as you follow behind as well.

A red cup filled with rich hot chocolate and melted marshmallows is placed in front of him after he sits down at the table, shedding his jacket. You grab it from his hand and hang it up before sitting next to him. She places a plate of warmed pecan pie in front of him as well.

Your mom grips his shoulder softly, walking out of the kitchen allowing you both to have some space. The main light in the living room turns off, the glow of warm Christmas lights are enough to keep it well lit.

Eddie takes the first sip of hot chocolate, cheeks and chest warming instantly. The glass almost burns his palms as he lifts it and then puts it down.

“She still thinks you like pecan.” You finally speak.

Eddie glances at you before looking down at the pie, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah…I feel bad for saying that I liked it.”

You smile and reach for the plate, eating it yourself so a slice doesn’t go to waste.

“I wanted to apologize for what you saw tonight and for what I said,” He looks at you. You stare down at the plate, playing with a pecan that had fallen from the caramelized sugar. “I…when I get angry - too angry - I tend to shut down on everyone and everything. It’s not a good thing, and I do want to work on it,”

“I should’ve never said that to you,” He shakes his head. You finally look over at him, nodding your head slightly. “I love you. And that scares me because I don’t…I don’t want you to end up regretting it.”

You place your fork down and stand from your chair holding your hands out. He grips your hands and you pull him from his seat. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close.

“I wouldn’t regret it,” You shake your head. “I don’t,” You pull away and cup his cheeks. Your chin dips slightly as you stare up at him. “You’re my best friend, Eds. You’re all I want - I can never see myself with someone else.”

The laugh he forces out is watery and his brows pinch together as his eyes stare down at the ground, blinking away the tears that blur his vision.

Pressing a kiss to his lips before the corner of his lips, your arms wrap around his neck once again, pulling him close. He leans into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as his shoulders shake.

Your hand rubs at his back while your other tangles into his hair. “It’s okay…It’s okay,” He adjusts his grip onto you, fingers and rings digging into your skin. “I’m here,” You kiss his temple, moving your forehead to his, nodding slightly. His nose brushes against yours as he nods with you. Your hands cup his jaw once again.

“I’m here.”

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ✿

#joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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