#Let It Fucking Burn Baby

[saikis1truelove]

if I see 1 more mischaracterization of saiki

y’all better sleep with BOTH eyes openIVEHAD ENOUGHH

#fuck you all #faun let’s kiss #married to faun #baby maker 300 #teruhashi kokomi #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #so done with you all. #burn alive

[butch-bakugo]

It still blows my mind that no body wants to own movies or CDs. Like I don't like not owning any movies or shows I like and wanna rewatch. Maybe I sound like a boomer but I'm not planning on paying for Netflix for the rest of my damn life just for this one movie I love that their hosting. Imma go on the internet and get the DVD.

We really shouldn't allow these streaming services to kill DVDs and CDs. We should not let them kill physical media. They want you to not have a physical copy, so that when you stop paying, you don't have access to the product your paying for. Buy more CDs. Buy more DVDs. Buy a damn VCR. I mean shit, a fucking Xbox or playstation can play any DVD, blue ray or not. Your car has a radio for a reason.

Don't let them kill physical media. Because if or when the cards fall, you'll be left with nothing.

#levi speaks #listen im not the type to be like all streaming services are bad #there are some good ones #but dont contribute to somethign you know is killing your ability to access it without their help #they make more money for you paying every month for a netflix and Spotify subscription then you going out and buying the dvds and cds #subscriptions make more money than one time purchases #and you've been raised that thats normal #it isnt #its greed #what happened to personal piracy? #burning cds with your favorite tracks #recording movies off the tv #lets bring digital piracy back #cause theirs no way im paying $7 a month just to listen to one song #im finding the youtube lyric video on the internet using the ytube to mp3 downloaders and listening to that file all on my own #fuck you netflix and spotify and every other bs service #except for shudder shudder is fine #shudder is baby girl and highlights young small horror artists #fuck everybody else #the only reason i can justify netflix is because they have enough Netflix exclusives that make it worth it #they dont put their money where their mout is in terms of representation tho

[margumis]

#mars mayhem #poll time baby #i personally was the one who screamed at the others for wanting to kill the bug #and then eventually the one who cried because they didn’t let me take the bug outside and killed em #UNLESS IT WAS A ROACH FUCK THAT BURN IN HELL!! #i have a phobia of roaches.

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

People on social media will get mad as hell and call you problematic if you enjoy a villain for being, well, a villain.

#txt #“this villain promotes bad values” ok and what's your point? #just because a character is morally questionable it doesn't mean i can't like them lmao #we are in an age where you can't like anything that isn't “pure” and “progressive”. fuck off #now if the villain's stans are actually trying to paint them as a poor misunderstood angel victim that's DIFFERENT #and let's be honest stans (usually female mind you) do this when the villain is attractive/hot/sexy #if a dude is ugly or fat there is no way you would have swarms of women defending that son of a bitch #but because he was drawn to be hot (or the actor who plays is hot) some chicks are READY to paint him as a poor baby #like... baby you are missing the point #just appreciate that son of a bitch as he is. there is no need to “sympathize” with him #i miss it when villains were villains and people appreciated that about them #anyways yes a character can be a very shitty person and you can still like them because that's the entire point of them #they are the antagonist/villain #i enjoy palpatine as a villain but that doesn't mean i think he was a poor lonely wholesome baby #that piece of shit deserved to be burn in hell lol but he still is a fantastic villain #but again tumblr twitter and fandom in general have no grasp of the concept of enjoying villains because they are villains #one side thinks you are fucking evil and disgusting if you admit to enjoying a villain #and the other side wants to find every justification in the book to paint the pos as an actual good person who is misunderstood :( because #that mofo has a six pack and a nice smile or is generally visually appealing lol

[cambria-writes]

i did it. it's finally done. it's over, and i finished it.

thank you so much to everyone who's followed me and this story, who's commented, liked and reblogged. you've all helped give me back something i had lost a long time ago: the ability to write.

i'm so thankful to have found this fandom and the people in it, and i wouldn't change a single thing about the journey that was writing Ravenloft.

some things to know about this chapter:

i only discovered literally two days ago that july 1st is not, in fact, universal moving day. that's apparently something very unique to my part of canada lol, so that's why i had the moving take place that day. might not have even registered for anyone else but me but i felt like i should explain that just in case.

additionally, i don't know fuckall about indiana, never been. the market place arena is no longer there, either, so it took a bit of guesswork to figure out what to do. thank you to @bramblequill for answering my very strange questions. ♥

lastly, i have no idea how school works in the states. i just went with september 2nd as back to school since it was the tuesday right after labour day, and the internet told me that 8:30am as a starting time for classes was reasonable so there we go.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader rating: E, 18+ warnings: SMUT, female anatomy used but otherwise no real physical description, fingering, masturbation (m and f), cum swallowing, so much swearing, Wayne calls Eddie son and reader calls Wayne his father, smoking (cigarettes and weed), alcohol consumption, vague reference to choking, mention of flagging/the hanky code, Eddie doesn't whip out the sadism though, mention of using handcuffs, i guess this is semi-public sex actually, Eddie's a gentleman though, mention of an alternate timeline where Eddie does die, mention of death broadly, reader has anxious responses to shit sometimes, Good Girl is said a few times, god I'm running out of brain RAM please let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 7,512

thank you again!!

Previous Masterlist

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨

July 2nd, 19863:27AM

You don’t know where you are when you first wake up. There are no lights on, there’s a familiar but distant sound, and it’s too fucking warm. After a few seconds of tensely paying attention, you realize that the familiar sound is the compressor in the fridge.

Right. You moved yesterday.

When you bother to open your eyes and look around, you realize why it’s so dark. You never bothered to plug in your alarm clock and you can’t see the time on the stove from here, but it’s definitely still night. Quiet enough that it’s probably not even 4am yet.

You roll to turn around, but promptly end up yelping and falling right on your ass. The vague but bitter thought crosses your mind that you’ve somehow developed a habit of falling and injuring yourself in whatever bedroom you occupy.

Said bedroom door cracks open slowly. From your spot on the floor, you get to see a very tired Eddie—is he even actually awake?—slowly emerge from the opening door.

“Fuck was that,” he mutters, right before unhinging his jaw to yawn. You sigh and let yourself fall back on the floor, limp, staring up at a ceiling fan that refuses to work.

“Forgot where I was,” you say quietly, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Go back to bed dude.”

Eddie grunts, but you don’t hear the tell-tale squeaking and creaking of floorboards. Instead, when you move your arm out of the way just enough to see, you catch Eddie scratching the back of his head and looking back to the hallway. He clears his throat, and you cover your eyes again before he catches you staring.

He probably caught you staring way too much yesterday, so you’re not sure why it matters. It’s not like he’d make a big deal out of it anyways—not the way Steve and Robin did when they were helping you carry the sectional couch Mrs Henderson insisted you take from her basement.

(It’s fine, she had said, I can’t really look at that old thing anymore, she said. You didn’t ask, but you’d assumed that it was the same as everyone in Hawkins; just trying to get rid of all the leftovers from The Earthquake and what had preceded it.)

You’re jostled out of your thoughts when you feel Eddie’s shoulder—bare, from the cut-out Black Sabbath shirt he’s warning—against yours. He feels cool and clammy, like he’d been tossing and turning around in the heat, too.

“Ahh,” he sighs, folding his hands over his chest. “You had the right idea. Floor’s cold. Fuck this heat.”

You hum in agreement, and turn your head to properly look at Eddie.

“You could go back home,” you say quietly. When you don’t get an answer after a few seconds, you scoff lightly and turn to stare back at the ceiling. “At least he wouldn’t be boiling alive.”

You nearly squawk when you feel a hand taping on your hip. When you turn to look at Eddie again, his eyes are closed, still, but he’s very clearly frowning.

“Y’r being stupid,” he mutters, taking a deep breath before forcing himself to sit up, leaning back on his hands. He rotates his shoulders and—and he’s saying something else, you know he is. But there’s... there’s something about his shoulders.

Have they always been that wide?

You know your mouth is hanging open when Eddie turns to look back at you, and you only snap it shut with a click when you see him grinning.

“Didn’t catch a word I just said, huh.”

You try to speak a first time, but your voice cracks on the first syllable. Clear your throat and cough once or twice before trying again. This time you get yourself up on your feet and head for the door.

“Not a word. Too tired. Want a beer?”

Eddie blinks at you owlishly for a second before letting himself fall back to the floor. You’re about to take that as a silent refusal when he grumbles.

“Do you even know what time it is? Beer?”

You scoff again and cross your arms from your place at the door.

“What, like you do?”

Eddie simply raises an arm in response. You frown, open your mouth to ask why the fuck he’s raising his hand in your damn house, when you notice the watch still on his wrist.

(You try not to remember a very different, broken watch keeping time for the dead.)

“Right, well,” you dither, clearing your throat again. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Do you want a beer or not?”

Eddie sighs, putting on a show about being put out and disappointed and too tired, but the hand he rests low on your back to herd you out of the room is gentle. The quiet ‘sure’ he whispers also sounds far too caring and indulgent.

You practically inhale half of the first beer you pull from the fridge. If Eddie’s got any thoughts about that, he keeps them to himself. You sit down at the table—square, angular, nothing like the one that was in your hideout—and lean back in a chair that still smells like sawdust and campfire.

Leaning back in his own chair across from you, Eddie takes a slow look around. You see him pause to look at what you’ve already put up on the fridge. There’s a character sheet, a small pebble that’s been glued to a magnet, a note from your parents and a small magnetic photo frame. You can already feel your face heat up when Eddie points at it.

“That wasn’t there when we had pizza,” he says, slowly and a bit incredulously. You can only hold his gaze for a second or two when he turns to you for answers.

“I, uh,” you stutter, biting your lip and picking at the label of the bottle in your hands. “That’s—my mom, uh.”

It’s a polaroid.

By any other metric, completely unremarkable. Unnoticeable, probably, to anyone whose face isn’t actually on the damn thing. And if your mother hadn’t taken you aside yesterday morning to hand you a small, old and beaten-up looking shoebox, you probably wouldn’t ever have remembered that photo exists.

It’s Eddie, surrounded by trees, and wearing a cloak that had definitely been about twelve sizes too big. The hood swallows most of his head; the only thing that’s really visible is his smile. Honestly, most people probably wouldn’t even be able to tell that that’s Eddie Munson, in that photo.

But you remember taking that. Remember flapping the polaroid around madly while running away.

You shake your head against the memory. Those times are long gone, now. So why...

“Yeah,” you end up whispering, before taking a deep breath and letting out a deeper sigh. “I’unno. When my mom gave me an old box of pictures from middle school, I kind of...” You look over at the fridge and take another, albeit significantly more moderate, drag of your beer. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

Eddie slowly stands and walks over to the fridge. Takes a sip of his beer while he looks at the photo. Takes a quick look at you before taking a step back from the fridge to look at what all else you’ve put up there so far.

“You still got that box?” And bless him, you know he’s trying to be nonchalant about it, but there’s an anxious tone undercutting his voice clear as day. You chuckle and make your way back to your room and to your closet.

It’s only when you pull the small shoebox out and you’ve got it cradled in your arms do you realize the significance of this.

Almost everything that was in the trailer was lost; it’s honestly a miracle anything survived at all. But among the losses, you remember Wayne bemoaning the loss of the few pictures that he’d been able to take of Eddie over the years.

You look down at the box a bit more misty-eyed. You hope that there’s something helpful in here. Something nicer.

When you make it back to the living room, Eddie’s still standing in front of the fridge. His brows are pulled together and the sip he takes of his beer nearly dribbles down his chin. You hold the box a bit closer to your stomach when you move to stand next to him.

“What are we looking at?” you ask, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. You put a hand on his arm and laugh. “Hey there, have a nice time up in the clouds?”

Eddie laughs a bit thinly, points up at the fridge. “I was just. You kept the—the lyrics. From middle school?”

You stare up at the piece of turns, crumpled up ruled paper. You remember carrying that everywhere with you, in middle school and high school. Carried it in your wallet for a while, too, though...

You turn back to the table to gently put the shoebox down. “I didn’t think you’d remember writing that,” you say quietly, pulling up one small stack of photos neatly held together with a rubber band.

Eddie scoffs. “Are you kidding me? You basically whined at me for weeks to come up with a love song for... what was—”

“Shanon,” you add quickly, blindly reaching for your beer bottle while sorting through photos. “Blonde, grey eyes. You were infatuated.”

You don’t see the sad, self-deprecating grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shanon... yeah, no, didn’t write that for her.”

You take a second to bring the bottle down from your mouth. Turn around to look at Eddie, but he’s still resolutely looking at the paper haphazardly stuck to the fridge. It’s at an angle. It’s starting to drive you crazy. Eddie chugs the rest of his beer, puts the empty bottle on the counter by the fridge, and turns around.

“Woah there pal,” you start, chugging your own beer with a wince. You put the bottle back on the table behind you. “What’s that look for?”

You feel like your heart’s beating a frenzy in your throat. You’re pretty sure you just felt a heart palpitation. The look on Eddie’s face is intense in a way you don’t recognize. Not like when he's DMing and he’s about to throw a real wrench in everyone’s plans, and not like in the Upside Down.

No, it feels a lot like how he looks at you out in the fields by the junkyard.

You would take a step back when Eddie starts walking toward you, but you’re already leaning against the table behind you. You try to straighten up to maybe attempt to look less frazzled than you feel.

The beer’s already making your head feel fuzzy and your lips feel numb.

Eddie stops about a foot away from you, and you’re not sure how to feel about the fact that you have to crane your neck up to actually look at him. He opens his mouth, looking down at your with a frown. He tries a few times like this, before sighing and just.

Letting himself slump over to rest his head on your right shoulder.

You stay like that for a bit. You can hear the hitch in Eddie’s breath when he tries, again, to say something. After the third or fourth time, it feels like something’s squeezing your chest. He’s clearly got something on his chest he wants to get off—something heavy—and you know how that feels. How that goes.

Your left hand comes up to brace the back of his head before you can think of the implications.

Whatever. Fuck the implications.

“You can take your time, y’know,” you whisper, slowly slumping back to lean against the table behind you, forcing Eddie to take a step forward if he wants to stay in his spot.

“I can’t, I really can’t.” His voice sounds strained, and you flounder. You’ve never really had to struggle to get people to talk to you—not the people who actually give a fuck about you, anyways. And you can’t think of a single time, barring the obvious fuckery of the Upside Down, when Eddie was hesitant to talk to you.

He gently grabs the hand in his hair and pulls it away to straight himself out again. His eyes are closed when you can see his face again. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand.

“Listen—“

The phone rings.

You haven’t even put it up on the wall by the doorway yet. It’s still on the counter, where you’ve left it, right by the fridge.

The shock of it in the quiet of the dining room makes you trip over yourself. Eddie catches you and, practically in the same motion, spins to direct you to the phone. Out of breath, you pick up.

“Ye—hello?”

“Hey, hon,” comes Wayne’s tired greeting. “Sorry if I woke you up, but is Eddie still with you?”

You blink a few times, staring out into nothing. You only wonder for a second why he’d call so late when you’d likely be out cold, but when you turn to face Eddie—now leaning back against the table—the realization comes all at once.

“Ed—yes, oh my god, Wayne, I’m so sorry,” you rush to say, turning back to the counter and cradling the receiver. “Yeah, he helped me unpack and we kind of crashed, I should have had him call—”

“Hey, hey,” Wayne chuckles, and the lightness of the tone helps you breathe a bit easier. “It’s fine. Sorry I woke ya up.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” you reply quickly. “We’ve been up for a bit going through some stuff.”

“I won’t keep you then. Just tell that idiot son of mine to call next time.”

You let out a quiet bark of laughter and promise you will. You don’t think you’ve ever referred to Eddie as his son before. Guess the whole town going to shit changed a few things. Said idiot son has the decency to look a bit ashamed when you turn around and lean back against the counter.

“Probably shoulda called before we called it a night, huh,” Eddie says with a wince.

There’s a beat of silence that’s almost awkward before you clear your throat to speak.

“You uh, you were going to tell me something?”

Eddie stands there, expression not unlike shock on his face. He opens his mouth two or three times but eventually settles on a shrug.

“Don’t worry about it, I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” The end of his sentence almost trails off its so quiet. It’s clearly a lie, but you’re too fuzzy from the beer and fatigue from moving to push the issue any further.

You push yourself off the kitchen counter and brush your hands off on your thighs.

“Well,” you start, feeling a bit awkward while you amble toward the hallway. “I need to go back to bed. Let me know if...” It’s your turn to trail off, because you’re not sure how to end that sentence. Let you know if what, a demodog comes bursting in through the window?

You look anxiously over your shoulder at the window over the sink. It’s fine. It’s nothing, nothing’s there, you’re good. You clear your throat.

“Right, so. I’ll just.”

Eddie nods but doesn’t look at you. Your room is bright with birdsong and the rising sun by the time you fall asleep.

17 July 19861:37AM

You’re not entirely sure what motivated you to get out of bed, climb into your car, and make it to the Munsons’. It’s not like you couldn’t have just grabbed the phone and dialed Eddie’s shiny separate number. (You’re beginning to think the hush money bit was real.) You’ve called each other at the worst times of night and day for dumber shit.

This time, though, the nightmare felt a little too real to ignore and sleep off. Like you usually would have done.

It was like you had never existed; like everyone had gone into the Upside Down without you, without an extraction team, without a backup plan. And you had to watch while Eddie sliced the blanket rope. Horrified, you watched Dustin sprain his ankle in his rush to get back.

Eddie, gasping and choking on his own blood, saying he hadn’t run away this time. Eddie, glassy-eyed and gone, torn to shreds by bats left motionless by what you now know to have been Chief Hopper’s own attack all the way in Russia.

You take a second to control your breathing once you’re at the squat triplex. Eventually you uncurl your stiff and sore fingers from the steering wheel and force yourself out of the car. Your legs feel like jello and your head like lead.

You consider trying to climb up to the third floor, somehow, if only for a second. You know Wayne’s likely to be up so you shouldn’t worry too much about either ringing or knocking but... Shake your head and hit the button for the third floor before you can think more about it and chicken out.

You’re let in surprisingly quickly. When you make it up to door number 3, Wayne’s leaning against the doorway.

“Bit early,” he says, uncrossing his arms once you’re near. Puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “Everything okay?”

“Nightmares,” you answer quietly. You curl and uncurl your fists at your sides.

“Come on,” Wayne says after a beat of silence. “He’s in his room. Coffee?”

You shake your head. With one last squeeze of your shoulder. Wayne wanders back inside, and you aim straight for Eddie’s bedroom door. Your fist is up to knock when Eddie opens the door, looking disheveled but extremely awake.

“Hey,” he says airily, out of breath as he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail. “I was about to head out—you weren’t answering your phone so.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything or explain before pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He throws his jacket—leather only, sans denim, as it has been for a few months now—over the back of the chair as his desk.

Nothing much else is said, which is how these nights usually go. Neither of you need to be rehashing what happened in the Upside Down, the earthquake, your constant passing out. Tonight, though, there is one thing that eats at you. Eddie has to nudge you, sitting next to him on his bed beneath the window, to pass the joint over. When you take it, he makes a point to lean forward to try and get a good look at your face.

“Did... did something happen? Before you got here?” he asks, and the concern in his voice twists your gut unpleasantly.

“It’s just—it’s nightmares. You know how it is.” You make a point not to take too deep of a toke of the joint before passing it back over, turning your head to blow the smoke out through the open window.

You can just barely see Eddie narrowing his eyes at you in your periphery. For a second, when he straightens up and leans back against the wall next to you, you think he’s dropped it.

“If it was just nightmares, you would’ve called.”

You snort and look the other way. Again, though, Eddie nudges you to turn around and take the joint. Carefully and, thankfully, not too quickly, he grabs your wrist as you grab the joint.

“Hey. Come on. Talk to me, please.”

Your eyes burn and you can already feel your nose getting red and itchy. Your whole face feels warm. Either to spare you the embarrassment of it or a second, secret reason, Eddie pulls you into his chest and you just start crying.

You’ve dreamt of people dying before. Tons of times. Even before El tore a massive hole through reality in Hawkins. But that—feeling powerless in a situation you know could’ve happened if you hadn’t just been around and stuck your nose where it arguably shouldn’t have been—and seeing Eddie die in a way you just couldn’t help?

That was brutal.

17 July 19869:12AM

You have no idea when you fell asleep. Your eyes feel sore and dry, your throat feels strange and your neck hurts. You’re cursorily aware that you’re in Eddie’s room—the smell of weed, incense and whatever cologne he wears usually gives it away.

Very quickly, you realize that you’ve fallen asleep on Eddie’s chest at an awkward angle. You’re both barely sitting up, still leaning back against the wall underneath the window. God, you drool on him. Fuck.

Okay, this is fine. You’ve literally had worse.

You take a deep breath and, as smoothly and quickly as you can, roll off the bed and onto your knees. It’s not graceful, but when you look back, Eddie still seems to be sound asleep. You pray to whatever’s out there that he stays that way until his shirt’s dry.

You tiptoe out of the room and turn the knob before shutting the door behind you. The rest of the apartment is empty, and with how late you heard Wayne ambling about, you’re sure he’s not ready to get up any time soon, either.

By the time you leave, there’s breakfast ready to be reheated in the oven and you’ve left a note on the coffee maker saying to just turn it on.

When you walk outside to your car, though the sun’s been up for a while, the fog still clings to the ground. You sit in your car for a few minutes, staring at the water droplets slowly evaporating on the windshield. When your heart rate has gone back down to something human and manageable, you start the car and head home.

13 August 198612:07AM

If you were bubbling with excitement before the concert, now you feel like soda that’s been left out for a few hours. Flat, maybe, but still just as sweet as it was before, if not moreso. You still feel all the enthrallment that you did before and during the concert, but now you feel...

Well, post-concert blues. That satisfied feeling of having witnessed something amazing, but the accompanying sadness and mourning knowing that you’ll never be able to relive this same experience again. It’s come and gone and now all you can do is remember it.

You slap your thighs to bring you out of your own head. This is going to be a good fucking night. Eddie literally bought you tickets to see Judas Priest and drove you both all the way out here. Refused to let you drive for a singular second, too.

“You still that hyped?” Eddie asks, laughing, holding his lighter out to you. You light up your own smoke and laugh.

“Nah, just trying to get my head back in the game. Too much shit rattling around in here.” You tap your head with the lighter before handing it back.  Eddie takes a second before grabbing it, though, and you have to wave your other hand in front of him to snap him out of it.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s out of it,” you laugh, bumping his shoulder with yours when he finally takes the damn lighter back.

Quietly, from inside the van, you can hear the opening bars for Wild Nights.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grunts, crouching down to tie the messy laces of his right shoe. “I’m the one who drove three hours to get here, and had to convince your parents that I wouldn’t murder you and dump your body in the river.”

You can’t help but cackle. You know for a fact that neither of your parents called the Munson household, but you also know that it’s something that they very easily could have done. Looking out at the White river from your little spot at the state park, you open your mouth to say something about how overprotective Wayne can be, but then something catches your eye.

“They literally,” you start, reaching over to pluck the scarf from Eddie’s back pocket. “Did not do that.” You twist the scarf around in your hands a bit before trying to whip it at his ass. You miss horribly and end up snapping the tip of the scarf on his thigh.

You burst out in laughter, full bellied and unrestrained, when Eddie yelps and topples over to the right. You try to apologize and ask if he’s okay, but you doubt that anything intelligible makes it past you wheezing, squeaking laughter.

“Alright, that’s it,” Eddie grumbles, tossing his half-smoke cigarette into the gravel before stalking towards you. He’s clearly not upset, but you make a mad dash for the riverbank anyways.

The toes of your shoes have just barely touched water before Eddie’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you back. You shriek and kick once or twice before letting yourself go limp.

Half an hour later finds you in some park along the 36, hair and clothes still damp and cheeks sore. You’re both sitting in the back of the van, doors open, passing a joint between you and looking out onto the park.

“I like what you’ve done with this old bitch,” you comment, tapping the plush—carpeting? blanket?—that Eddie’s laid down in the back. “Is there a camping mat under this or something?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, been going out in the woods after work sometimes just to like... relax, y’know?” You nod; you ran to the woods a lot as a kid, too. “Right, so I kinda made it more comfy to get high in. That’s it.”

When he passes you the joint, you look back at the front where you’d left the scarf. Handkerchief? You’ve had the question in mind ever since March: is he the S or is he the M?

“Seriously?” Eddie balks. “That’s what’s been on your mind this whole time?”

You turn to look at him and blink owlishly.

“Oh. Oh god, please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

Eddie laughs, and it almost sounds a little mean. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and making its way to your face. Your cheeks itch with it.

“Right, you’re too baked and tired for this,” Eddie declares, and even to your ears he sounds way too composed and, frankly, sober. Though you guess he’s maybe had a bit more time to get used to smoking weed than you have.

“What, no!” You whine, trying to reach across him to snag the joint out of his left hand. Unfortunately, the best that’s done for you is get you splayed across Eddie’s lap once you inevitably lose your balance.  “Fuck you.”

Eddie’s almost unnaturally still beneath you. And you’d look up at him, if you could, but even fucking cooked, you’re very aware that you’re laid across a man’s lap.

Your throat feels too tight when you swallow. You move to brace an arm on Eddie’s thigh to prop yourself up, but his hand on the back of your head has you freezing in place. When the hand starts petting down your head, your neck and your spine, only to start again at the top, you start to go limp. This isn’t so bad.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs, and you get the feeling you’ve spoken out loud again. “You would think that.” The embarrassment is enough to make your eyes sting. There’s a beat of silence, and then Eddie leans over to whisper in your ear, “Good girl.”

You swallow thickly. You had intended to follow-up by asking whether or not Eddie was even interested in the opposite gender. But you suppose that answers that.

There’s a tension in your gut and shoulders that makes you second guess yourself. You get the words out before you can think too much about it.

“What do I have to do for you to say that again?”

The hand petting you takes its time reaching the bottom of your spine, and then stays there. Warm against your lower back, and just high enough to say he’s not actually touching your ass. Awfully cordial.

“Depends,” Eddie hums, and you hear him take another toke of the joint before crushing the tip of it between his fingers and chucking the extinguished butt somewhere you can’t see. “Why?”

This time, you do prop yourself up, both hands on Eddie’s thigh. If it had been anyone else, the distance between your faces would have been the epitome of discomfort.

“I want you to say it again,” you answer quietly. It’s getting harder to keep your eyes on his and not let them drift down.

“Say what again?” Eddie asks, and you don’t know if you love or hate the shit eating grin on his face. You should have expected this, though; putting you on the spot was part of the whole point, wasn’t it?

“I-I want you to...” you start, but your throat feels too small for the words that are trying to come out. Eddie’s hand at your lower back comes up to rub comforting circles between your shoulder blades. Your face and neck are on fire and everything feels itchy.

“Come on,” Eddie whispers. You realize that you’ve been staring at his mouth, and when you look, he is very much looking down at your mouth. “Won’t laugh. Promise.”

The sigh that leaves you almost surprises you.

“I-I want you to—I want you to call me a good girl. Again. Please.”

The hand between your shoulders makes its way forward to cup your jaw.

“Good girl,” Eddie breathes, and it’s like your whole body vibrates, shudders with the satisfaction of it. “Fuck,” he chuckles, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’re really into that.”

You want to say that you shrugged, but the reality is that the sound that comes out of your mouth couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a whimper.

“Can I—” Eddie starts asking, but you cut him off nearly right away.

“Yes.”

You would think kissing your childhood best friend, whom you’d lost touch with for several years and had recently gone through several traumatic events with, would be somewhat awkward and clumsy. But, unlike when you were teenagers, you and Eddie both, clearly, had the advantage of some gained experience in the meanwhile.

There’s no chastity in the kiss; from the moment his mouth locks with yours, it’s open-mouthed and breathless. Eddie pulls you closer, helps you sit across his lap properly, and you fist your hands in his shirt. In his brand new Judas Priest shirt. You know he doesn’t even particularly like Turbo, as an album. Almost none of it is his preferred style.

You whine into the kiss, and you chase Eddie’s lips when he pulls away. He helps shift you off his lap and quickly instructs you to move back and lie down. The van is plunged into near pitch-black. You move back until you feel what you think is the back of the driver’s seat. You don’t lie back yet, instead reaching out for Eddie.

Your hand knocks into what’s apparently his arm. His mouth finds your again in the dark as your fingers find their way into his hair. You gasp when Eddie roughly pulls you down, firmly gripping your hips one second and cradling your head to make sure you don’t hit it the next.

“You sure this is fine?” Eddie asks, though his lips are moving down to your neck, teeth nipping at the skin.

“It’s fine, this is fine,” you rush to say, letting your hands wander up under Eddie’s shirt. You’re  sure to keep your touch light when you come across the scars. “This is so fucking fine,” you breathe.

Eddie’s shirt rises with your wandering hands, and he gives you a second to pull it over his head. You have no idea where you toss it and you honestly couldn’t care less. His hands, in return, take the opportunity to make their way under your shirt, and you want to scream. Your entire body feels like a coil being wound tighter.

It’s unfamiliar, how intense it is. You don’t think you mind.

Eddie knocks your knees open to settle between your legs rather than straddling you, though you’re more preoccupied by your shirt—identical to Eddie’s, because you couldn’t help yourself—being peeled off and thrown into an equally unknowable direction. His hands on your ribs feel like irons smoothing out the trembling wrinkles of them, and the shuddering sigh that you let out makes Eddie chuckle.

“Poor thing,” he laments, one hand at your waist prompting you to arch your back, the other sliding up your back to somehow expertly undo the clasp of your bra. “Been holding out for a while, huh.”

It’s not a question. You twitch, about to bring your hands up to hide your face, but—there’s no real point, is there? In this kind of darkness, it’s not like he’d be able to see how red your face is. You have a feeling he’d reprimand you for trying to hide, anyways.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna look at me,” you breathe into his mouth. Saying it out loud makes it feel silly, especially here and now. You don’t hold it against him when Eddie laughs. You can hear the shock in it.

“We’re both idiots,” he mutters, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth, down your neck, nipping at the collarbone on the way. He presses his lips to your sternum, hands gliding up your sides to palm at your breasts. Nothing like the fumbling messes of your first adult years; Eddie’s hands are slow and deliberate. He’s not feeling you up for his own sake—though you don’t doubt that it in no small way contributes to the hardening length you feel growing at the junction of your thigh—but for yours. This feels entirely like a massage for your benefit.

To his credit, it’s working. Whatever tension you were holding in your shoulders is slowly melting away under his hands.

His mouth continues its trail down, licking a stripe up your navel before he stops at the button of your shorts. You don’t let him ask, you just unbutton them for him. He doesn’t move until he hears you start to pull at the zipper. He doesn’t leave you time to pull it down all the way before he’s tugging your shorts off like they’ve personally offended him.

The cold air makes you realize he’s taken your underwear with them. He lightly rests his forehead on your stomach and breathes in. It almost makes you choke.

“God you smell good,” he growls against your skin. While his mouth trails kisses back up your torso, you feel one hand sliding gently up your chest to rest at the base of your throat. The other slides two fingers through your slit.

Eddie groans like he’s in pain.

“I won’t—not here, fuck,” Eddie mutters, nuzzling between your breasts, and you buck your hips into his hands when one of his slicked fingers finds your clit. “First time we gotta do it right but this, we can—I can give you this,” he whispers, so low you figure he must be talking to himself more than he is to you.

One finger prods at your entrance, and then he’s got two fingers inside of you. The first few pumps, though heaven, don’t do much. But then Eddie curls his fingers, and it’s like he’s a puppeteer who’s pulled on all of your strings all at once. He exhales sharply and sounds entirely too pleased with himself when he speaks.

“There she is,” he whispers, mouthing at the spot on your neck just below your ear. The warmth  makes you shiver and clamp down on his finger. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Eddie’s hand practically turns into a machine. You don’t think you’ve ever been able to get yourself so close to cumming in less than a minute. The hand at the base of your neck creeps just a little bit higher. When you gasp at the pressure his fingers apply, you have to grab at Eddie’s wrist to keep his hand there.

“You’re perfect,” Eddie sighs, and you can feel more than see him toss his head back. “Fuck, wish I could see your face right now.”

“Next time,” you reply quickly. “Please, fuck, I’m so close, please please please,” you whine, reaching your other hand down to rub at your clit.

“Holy shit that’s so fucking hot,” Eddie groans, and bites down on your neck, just above where his hand collars it nicely.

The sting is what sends you careening over the edge, cumming with a drawn-out moan. Your hips jerk erratically in spite of yourself, chasing Eddie’s fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm. When your arms go limp, you distantly register the sound of his belt coming undone and the distinct sound of him spitting. There’s a slick sound and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that.

That Eddie Munson is jerking off over your naked body.

“Fucking christ,” you whisper, out of breath, and force yourself to sit up.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans, and you blindly reach out for him. He grabs one of your hands on his chest, laces his fingers tightly through yours. Your other hand, however, makes it down to his, wrapped around and pump his cock.

You shimmy back just enough to be able to lean down to lick the tip.

“Jesus f—I’m gonna,” Eddie chokes out. He doesn’t finish his sentence when you bat his hand away and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and suck.

You swallow more of him down as he cums, swallowing around him once or twice before he brushes a hand up your forehead and lightly pushes you back and away. You kiss his navel, instead, then his sternum, until he pulls you up with two hands cupping your face, and makes you kiss him, instead.

You didn’t think you’d be turned on by a guy kissing you after you’ve just swallowed his load, but there are apparently a lot of things you’ve yet to discover about yourself.

Carefully, mouths still touching but not quite kissing, Eddie maneuvers you both so that he can lie down on his back, and you can lay your head on his chest.

You throw a leg over his for good measure.

“I’m not moving anymore,” you groan, burrowing your face into his chest.

“Can’t blame ya,” Eddie says, breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

There’s a moment of silence, and then both of you start laughing. The bouncing of his chest makes it hard to stop laughing. Your gut hurts, your cheeks hurt, and you are entirely too sweaty. You could not care less.

“So,” Eddie starts, once you’ve both been able to calm down and breathe like normal people again. “You mentioned a next time?”

You hum and close your eyes against the darkness in the back of the van.

“Mm, it did not escape my notice that the handcuffs were something you managed to rescue from the trailer,” you mumble, throwing an arm over Eddie’s chest and squeezing.

“...I don’t think I hate the idea of you in chains, actually.”

September 2nd, 19867:58AM

You’re woken up entirely too early by your phone ringing. You don’t need to look at the time to know it’s too early; if you can’t hear cars driving around yet, it’s too fucking early.

“Mmn, gmorning, what,” you slur, wedging the phone between your chin and shoulder and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Morning to you too, sunshine,” Eddie greets you brightly, and the warmth that bubbles up in your chest at the sound of his voice feels almost euphoric.

“You’re a weapon,” you say fondly, moving from where you’ve finally wall-mounted the phone to the wall by the fridge and making your way to the kitchen counter, which you promptly hop up on. “Wait,” you whisper, leaning forward to look at the calendar you’ve stuck to the fridge. “It’s September 2nd.”

“Mhm, congratulations, you can correctly identify the date.”

You ignore the snark.

You have entirely forgotten to ask Eddie whether or not he’d been made to repeat his senior year—again—despite everything that had happened over spring break. It felt awkward to ask now, though.

“You, uh,” you stutter instead, trying to find the least offensive way to go about finding out. “You’re calling, uh, early. Special occasion?”

“Of course,” Eddie says haughtily, and you can almost imagine the expression on his face. The kind that says ‘I know something you don’t and I know you’re too much of a coward to ask about it’.

“Come on just say it man,” you plead, letting your head fall back and reaching up to keep the receiver in place.

“My lady, I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Fucking dick,” you say under your breath. Take a deep breath, bring your head back up and square your shoulder. “Edward Munson, did they or did they not let you graduate?”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter so loud you have to pull the receiver away from your ear for a second. His tone and demeanor make you want to believe that he’s finally been cut some slack, but...

You manage to get a single sound out before there’s a knock at your door. You hold the phone away from yourself again, narrow your eyes at it like it’s Eddie in your hands instead of the receiver, and put it back to your ear. You cut off whatever he was saying when you speak again.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’s someone knocking on my door at,” you pause, turning to look at the time on the stove. “One past eight in the fucking morning?”

“Dunno, sounds important if it’s this early though,” Eddie replies, a bit too easily, and you sigh.

“Whatever, I’m putting the phone down. Don’t hang up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff and put the phone down on the counter, making sure it won’t fall off. By the time you make it to your front door, whoever’s there has decided that knocking nonstop is clearly the best way to get your attention.

You honestly should have expected Dustin Henderson at your doorstep at eight in the morning on back to school day. He’s suspiciously got an arm behind his back. You sigh, again, and unlock the deadbolt and undo the latch before opening the door.

“Alright,” you say, one hand on your hip and the other hand held out. “Fork it over.”

“I have no idea—” Dustin starts to say, but the deadpan stare you level at him makes him clear his throat instead. “Right! Here you go.”

“Thank you kindly, now hold up,” you say, holding a finger up and quickly walking over to your fridge to pull a bottle of water out. When you’re halfway back to the door, you call out, “Heads up!” and toss the bottle over.

Dustin barely manages to catch the thing, but doesn’t do so without a comical amount of fumbling.

“Awesome, now that you’ve done your Dungeon Master’s bidding, go the fuck to school, nerd,” you chastise, flicking the bill of Dustin’s cap.

“Man, you’re mean, you know that?”

“Sure, that’s why I’m making sure you’re staying hydrated on that damn bike,” you retort, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Go on now, shoo. Go get an education.”

You wait until you can’t see Dustin down the road anymore before closing and locking the door, and wandering back over to the phone.

“Alright,” you say, wedging the receiver under your chin again and tearing open the envelope you’d been handed. “This better be worth it. I was up until 3am and I’m fucking beat.”

Eddie stays quiet, but you can practically feel the frantic energy of him through the phone. You pull the paper—papers, it’s a whole damn stack of them—and then promptly drop them all on the kitchen floor when you catch the title on the first page.

“Edward,” you start, tone harsh.

“Hey, woah, okay,” Eddie  rushes to start. “Okay, I graduated, right? Like, everyone was let through because of all the bullshit. That’s not really important right now though?”

“Ed,” you start again, lower and calmer. “That thing said ‘Thrasher Records’. I don’t fucking know who they are but there’s fucking record in the name, babe.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. You can hear the face-splitting smile. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, and you know he can hear the smile splitting your face, too.

You don’t change out of your sleep shorts and Judas Priest shirt. You’re at the Munsons’ in just under five minutes—which, yes, is probably a little bit criminally fast, but it’s not like Hopper’s gonna care—only to find out that Edward fucking Munson hadn’t even told his own damn father.

You give your boyfriend just enough shit for him to want to make up for it.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@bramblequill @storiesbyrhi @averagestudent03 @alovesongtheywrote @doratheignora @fnlyroe

#ravenloft #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #slow burn #smut #THIS ONE HAS SMUT #NINETEEN CHAPTER SLOW BURN BABY LETS FUCKING GO #nineteen fucking chapters man #anyways #mild d/s if you squint #this is my baby man #my magnum opus #until i make another one anyways

[jtownraindancer]

"How many times have you done this before?"

"More than you, by the looks of things."

Burn Gorman guest starring as Sean Finnigan, Merseybeat, 2001

#you would not believe how long it took me to find this show- let alone this episode; truly herculean #burn gorman #(i couldn't catch the cop's name I'm so sorry) #merseybeat #sean finnigan #my gifs #if i ever find a netter quality of this episode I'll update these but until then- #man i need a tag for burn now fuck #practically a baby here; glad to see he started a life of crime so young lol #still a sarcastic little shit; love that for him ♡

[frecklystars]

Me cooking dinner for everyone (all my Ryan F/Os) Ken has to come by with another plate and I’m like “didn’t I just give you an entire burger” and Ken says yeah but he needs another because K took his food and then Luke says “yeah he ate my food too” and K is at the table in tears shoving spoonfuls of fresh veggies and meat in his mouth openly weeping “I’ve been eating nothing but instant protein-grub noodles and rice for my entire life Please just Let me Have This I Beg of You”

#i burn the eggs by accident he says no problem and still eats them saying they’re amazing #meanwhile ken is having trouble trying to eat the food that isn’t plastic #he’s like what do you mean I can’t just imagine taking a bite. oh god. this burger is huge. how do I fit my mouth around it #Six is absolutely housing an entire stack of pancakes all by himself in the corner of the room he’s not letting anyone have it #Colt is butting heads with him #no I don’t know Colt yet but he’s included. what food does he like? don’t know yet... MY COOKING #I can’t cook for shit but I’ll learn for my hungry boys <3 #that was painful to type I’ll never say that again Lmfao #i make apple pie just for driver bc I know he likes it #driver nuzzles me the entire time I’m baking he’s snuggly asf. he’s exhausted too #stayed up all night on a getaway job. knows I stayed up all night having nightmares and being unable to sleep again #he gets it. he doesn't force me to try to sleep he knows i can't. but he encourages me to lay down after cooking #and to rest my eyes for a bit. and then it turns into a huge snuggle pile #we've got [counting on fingers] one two three... ten... a dozen Gosling F/Os #one of my best friends says it's like a flock of baby geese following me around SLKDFJSLFSDF #so fucking cute #Luke is canonically snuggly. idk Jacob or Holland yet... I'd want them to cuddle too #all of them are trying to have contact w/ me in SOME way once we're snuggled in bed #Ken's gotta hold my hand and put his head on my tummy HE'S GOTTA. or he'll PERISH #Lars isn't one for touch very often unless if he's the right person. I am that Right Person #but he will still just hold my hand and let everyone else do the full body snuggling #K's sitting up just like Six is when he's resting. alert. protective #Six is relieved he doesn't have to tie his shoelace to the door or worry abt intruders. he can just fall the fuck ASLEEP #they've all got full tummies and maybe some of them chat with each other #while others are like SHH LET KERI SLEEP. but im like no no your voices are like angels to me pls keep talking #esp Luke and Sebastian their rasps will lull me easily #love notes

[mashmouths]

florence welch shouldn't be allowed to write songs bc what if i listen to one and it punches a hole in my chest. no for real what do i do i'm bleeding out in my kitchen.

#category 5 'the bomb' moment jesus christ florence. she let it burn but it just had to be done!!! #i've been listening to this song for a good 30 minutes and crying to different lines like i'm putting emphasis on every word in a sentence #every time i repeat it. are you all fsmiliar with that post. #maybe i should be concerned that any amount of academic engagement and my mental health collapses for several hours. fuck it we bawl <3 #happy eating dinner in tears tuesday i guess #tea this song is ripping me to ribbons how could you do this (introduce me to a song that i love) #this post does not reflect my beliefs i am very happy that florence welch makes music but like. warn me next time. #yes i've heard this song many times before tonight i just didn't expect it to hurt me this badly <3 #a post #sorry ignore me being tired reduces my emotional tolerance to that of a toddler #it's just. when will someone tell me to come here baby and tell me something awful and true that only they could know and think my hands are #the most beautiful thing they've ever seen. florence how could you do this.

[hauntingblue]

Yabushige count your fucking days. I am so mad

#the fucking flash forward. insane #toranaga in the fucking forest... ALL YOU HAVE LEFT IS THAT FUCKING EAGLE!!!!! NO SON NO FRIENDS!!!! #ishido blaming toranaga...... you should seppuku yourself...... shameless.... #so all out war now??? no toranaga invasion???? mmm..... #yabushige has lost it.... all that for nothing... oof #oshiba and her kid finishing marikoa poem..... i think i huave covid #HIS SHIP?????? #toranaga did this to keep him here knowing he wont stay now that mariko is dead.... i know it #the christians???? mariko???? to keep him here too?? #omg fuji......... #toranagas baby is so big ajdhaksj 'i have more sons thanks to you' hello???? #OSHIBA TURNED!!! ISHIDO ITS SO OVER!!!! #NO!!! LEAVE FUJI ALONE LET HER BECOME A NUN!!! ANJIN YOU ARE ON THIN ICE #toranaga is sucha bad bitch #i feel like anjin really felt ashamed about his first intent to arrive to japan and that mixed with marikos death... he said fuck it #and then toranaga turns it around and says nah... I am using YOU!! get your pussy up!! get your ships up!!! #'que la muerte le sea leve' thats what me and my friends say when we say goodbye to go to class ajshajanaakak i love this guy #favourite secondary character #this shot is so pretty... with the tree and the sea... the framing.... #SEE how toranaga burned his ship!!!! bc he wants to keep him!!! thats his foreign pet!! #he makes him laugh and distracts his enemies ajdhajdjsj.... his jester... #beef squashed with my girlfriends husband 🤝🏻 now we hold respect for each other #that was so good #i said yabushige better count his days and here we are.... #i post about someone and they die. 3/3 sobfar #if i reach far enough shogun is about a daimyo and the psychosexual relationship between him and his foreign pet... #he makes me laugh... and the last scene is the anjin laughing while looking at him... okay..... #talking tag #watching shogun #also!!! toranaga wanting to be shogun!!! this man is so complex!!! i hate him!!!

[musicalchaos07]

@jancyweek2022 Day 7: au/canondivergence or favorite quotes

Season 4 AU

After a disastrous summer, Jonathan is just trying to keep his head down and finish senior year before going off to college with Nancy. For the most part he’s succeeding, helping Nancy with the school paper, working on the yearbook, guiding Will and El through the hell that is Hawkins High School, and finding peace in some occasional recreational drug use. But, when head cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham ends up gruesomely murdered all signs point to the unexpected person who was seen with her last: Jonathan Byers. Curiously, Jonathan has vanished from Hawkins overnight with his car seemingly abandoned on the road. Convinced that the creepy Byers boy has finally snapped, and fueled by an overzealous bigot, the town sets out on a manhunt to find the missing teen. While Hopper attempts to investigate and calm the mob, Joyce panics that she’s once again lost a son to the Upside Down. Now it’s up to Nancy, Will and the rest of the Party to find Jonathan and get to the bottom of this mystery before it’s too late. 

#jancyweek2022 #Jancy #Jonathan could’ve had Eddie’s plotline I scream from the rooftops #Charlie Heaton would've BODIED it tbh #Chrissy baby I’m so sorry you still have to die #Also Jonathan was 100% just taking Chrissy's photo for the yearbook #or giving her weed #Tragically we lose Argyle but also Jonathan gets a plotline #Is Jonathan in the upside down? Is he just hiding? Who can say??? #Nancy Wheeler is also on a manhunt. Specifically her man who took him. #But also let her kill Jason as a treat #The DRAMA that would be Will having Jonathan’s season one plotline with Joyce??? Like can you imagine??? #William screaming crying and throwing up not because he's gay and Micheal is stupid but because his brother is missing????? #Hopper survived because fuck the Russian plot honestly I said what I said #Hopper: frantically trying to control a town keep his daughter safe and find his step-son #Joyce: burning Hawkins to the ground #Nancy: Driving around Hawkins blasting The Clash like here Jonathan come out come out whereever you are baby #El still goes to get her powers back bc Joyce in convinced Jonathan is in the UD and she wants to save her brother uwu #but maybe like at the lab or owens converted the Starcourt ruins to nina idk #the best part is that the triangle would be dead dead #cause Steve might be an idiot but he's not bringing up 6 nuggets when Nancy's boyfriend is missing/dead #I imagine Steve would still be involved because Dustin loves Will and is like we gotta help #And Steve is like yea Byers is weird but he wouldn't kill anyone #I also imagine Max told Chrissy to get weed from Jonathan because he's non-threatening #Jonathan: Can I have a normal year? Vecna: It’s gonna be a no from me. #If you read the tags this far congratulations #stranger things #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #nancy x jonathan

[altruistic-meme]

cue me as always trying to convince myself “no no we want to make it like canon but with only a few changes” only to remember.............. this isn’t a canon divergence au, not really. not anymore. i can fuck up whatever i feel like and no one will stop me.

#>:] #im not even fucking with things MUCH #just little things #but i have to stab my brain with a stick every time it tries to go ''but! but canon!!!' #baby we are burning canon over a fire like a marshmellow. #as in setting it aflame and letting it burn until it gets that smoky crisp that i prefer on my smores #shh ac #wip: dare(d) to do it

[vanilladella]

my players psychologically tortured n bullied every townsperson they came across EXCEPT the women. the women they flirted w shamelessly

#first they bullied a teenager doing his job #then they had a lil drink break n flrited w the innkeeper #then they pestered an alcoholic w missing daughters #then they threatened to burn down a guys house bc he wouldnt let them in or talk to them #(he saw them kill his sister n is terrified) #then they went to the sisters baby daddys house n accidentally revealed they killed his girl AND child #then they went back to the tavern #flirted w the paladin who hired them n fought over who gets to sleep next to her #n then our aasimar bard fucked the innkeeper #n theyre so in love w both the paladin n the innkeep that ive had to make character sheets for both if em #bc they wna take them along

[rhizomehaunt]

saw a climate post that was essentially haha we're fucked and while i refuse to give into nihilism and don't believe despair is a helpful organizing principle wow did it activate a lot of cptsd for me and now i am about to have a panic attack

#panic! does not lead to action a lot of the time just more panic #i fucking hate when ppl are just like “well we're on track for this so it's inevitable so we're doomed” like #people in power are counting on u to be too worn down to do nothing !! i'm all for grief & rage but baby resist despair #on that note always quoting mariame kaba “let this radicalize you rather than lead you to despair” #hope is hard in a burning world but i refuse to concede mine to the imperialist racist fascist capitalist powers that want me to despair

[jooyeone]

x

#went back to watch some parts of the video that i missed and i got to yoongi saying he's burned out and has nothing left to say anymore #that 6-7 years ago he had a lot to say without yet having the skills but now he has nothing left to say anymore. #not to project but i'm crying like a fucking baby. this is what the entire last year was like for me this is all that it was #and it led to some very difficult decisions and life readjustments and had i heard someone. fucking anyone #let alone yoongi say this while i was burned out trapped lost and fucking fighting to stay afloat ... #i don't know how any gifmakers can gif this video i'm importing frames into ps without being able to see the screen through the tears

[sixftmp3]

hm. gender rant.

#vent #sometimes i feel like my coworkers just treat me as 'girl who uses he/him pronouns' #specifically two of my supervisors #like. they gender me correctly its fine for the most part #it just kinda gets under my skin #like DONT FUCKING BABY ME. IF I BURN MYSELF ON THE HOT DISHES THATS ON ME #let me be a short dumbass. 'do u need my help to reach that' NO i am going to drop the espresso beans on my fucking head let me a dumbass #if i drop the big box of cups and fall over god caught me slipping and is keeping me humble #this just turned into me saying all the dumb shit thas has (almost) happened to me at work.

[littlepetbee]

.

#people keep going on about how ~generous it is that my BIL lets me and my sister live in the house with him and his wife aka my other sister #and it's so hard not to be like 'UM IT'S MY DAMN HOUSE' #because um it's my damn house #me and my sisters have been planning to move out together for years...we just had to wait until we could swing it financially #and my sister is the one that bought the house and specifically got one with rooms for us #BECAUSE UM. IT'S MY DAMN HOUSE #IT'S NOT GENEROUS TO ALLOW ME TO LIVE IN MY OWN DAMN HOUSE JUST BC HE'S IN A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH MY SISTER #they've been married for a month. romantically involved for a few more than that. have known each other just a year+ in total. #whereas we've all been sisters for 25 years HELLO #what...was he just supposed to kick us out??? ARE YOU INSANE??? is that truly how people view marriage and ~romantic shit?? #THAT ALL OF A SUDDEN YOU'RE THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT MATTER AND IT'S GENEROUS TO NOT SEND YOUR WIFE'S SISTERS BACK TO AN ABUSIVE HOUSEHOLD??? #sorry i know i'm yelling a lot i just hate people's view of marriage/commitment/romantic relationships with the burning passion of 1000 sun #i cannot BELIEVE that my aro ass is considered the abnormal one when everyone else is apparently sociopaths smdh #...ftr there are zero issues with my BIL...he's really great and wants us to be live-in aunties for the baby #and whenever they talk about moving in the future he's automatically factoring in space for us bc we're welcome until death do us part #if that's what we want #so yeah no problem with him just EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE #personal