#if cops seem to ask you questions at random you can also say this:

[idk-bruh-20]

The scene in NWH with the cops

Just thinking about how Marvel having MJ and May yell "DON'T SAY ANYTHING WITHOUT A LAWYER" while demonstrating the manipulation tactics that police use in casual conversation with Ned to get folks to self-incriminate - in one of the biggest movies of all time which was viewed by 20 million people in America on the first weekend alone - was very cash money of them actually

#thoughts #marvel said: don't talk to cops :) #spider man no way home #spider man nwh #nwh #no way home #peter parker #may parker #michelle jones #ned leeds #remember folks: #DON'T TALK TO COPS #in america you can say the following: #I want a lawyer and will now remain silent #I do not consent to a search #BOTH of those things :) #if cops seem to ask you questions at random you can also say this: #am I free to go? #and if the answer is yes: Leave. #be polite about it because there's no reason to give them an extra reason to fuck with you #your safety is the most important thing #but yeah even if cops stop you and it seems legit just imagine they're stopping a random civilian to get dirt on spider-man #give :) them :) nothing :) #SO many people got to see this play out in nwh and for that I'm grateful

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench. 

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.” 

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities. 

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?” 

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.” 

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along. 

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?” 

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected. 

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands. 

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.” 

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck. 

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness. 

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more. 

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs. 

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face. 

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?” 

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans. 

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. 

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid. 

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man. 

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

***

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip. 

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on. 

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk. 

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting. 

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip. 

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message. 

I’m serious. 

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color. 

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap. 

I’m fine with it if you are. 

Putting bats on my forearm. 

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing. 

I’m more than fine with it. 

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you. 

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear. 

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other. 

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them. 

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?” 

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom. 

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission. 

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this. 

This looked like fear. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide. 

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously. 

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce. 

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?” 

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor. 

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand. 

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand. 

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle. 

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.” 

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

 When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off. 

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.” 

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you. 

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal. 

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved. 

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low. 

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?” 

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.” 

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway. 

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing. 

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall. 

***

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar. 

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism. 

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it. 

On Halloween, he could just be. 

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer. 

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license. 

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie. 

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set. 

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout. 

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable. 

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you. 

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him. 

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life. 

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy. 

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second. 

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you. 

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?” 

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.” 

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart. 

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?” 

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction. 

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it. 

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking. 

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap. 

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.” 

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles. 

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine. 

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.” 

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?” 

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?” 

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room. 

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be. 

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing. 

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled. 

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out. 

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.” 

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.” 

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.” 

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis. 

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped. 

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like. 

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now. 

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel. 

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message. 

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins? 

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on. 

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze. 

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie. 

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire. 

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again. 

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine. 

“Are you?” You heard him ask. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?” 

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz. 

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line. 

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous. 

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…” 

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?” 

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.” 

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke. 

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it. 

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way. 

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all. 

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat. 

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours. 

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day. 

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

 You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear. 

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question. 

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.” 

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled. 

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles. 

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too. 

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.” 

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did? 

Ah, fuck it. 

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.” 

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.” 

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?” 

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before. 

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out. 

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don’t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere. 

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped. 

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you. 

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked. 

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him. 

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #impossible to hate you #ithy #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

[amostimprobabledream]

Breathe you in like smoke (Dabi x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56030950

He's doing it again.

You don't look up from your phone as you hear it. A breathy, feminine giggle and footsteps. The smell of perfume hits your nose, and you scrunch it on reflex - it's sweet and tangy at first but fades into something acidic and cloying the longer it lingers. And she's put on way too much. Hastily, realising you're wearing your emotions clearly on your face, you smooth out your expression again even though nobody is looking at you and probably don't give a shit what you're thinking.

Dabi leads the girl, who is drunk and giddy, no doubt she either has no idea who he is and just thinks he's a dangerous-looking bad boy. If only she knew just how bad he actually is, she'd likely run out of the place screaming and speed-dialling the cops with a manicured finger. Her footsteps are clumsy as she totters after him, his own footsteps sure and slow on the rickety stairs that lead up to the loft, a room Dabi unilaterally claimed as his own and nobody had either the energy or balls to protest this decision.

Irritation stirs in the pit of your stomach, despite your best efforts to maintain your air of nonchalance on the outside, like you're doing nothing more noteworthy than catching a bus. Dabi does this from time to time, picks up some random who doesn't know or care to know his identity, luring them back to the base for a quickie before unceremoniously booting them out again. You're convinced he has some form of exhibition kink, because he doesn't care to keep the noise down and neither does whoever he's pounding into the mattress. Spinner has complained more than once, but Dabi’s response is simply that he’s jealous his ugly ass could never.

Well, nobody’s ever called Dabi the epitome of tact.

And here you are, steeped in unrequited lust and a considerable amount of frustration as you have to sit and listen to this rigmarole and wishing, just once, that it was you he was leading upstairs.

You’ve honestly no idea if Dabi had an inkling about how you feel about him. You’re not stupid and know that to wear your interest openly will get you nowhere - he held everyone at arm's length, even his own comrades, and his primary concerns are his own goals. The fact your ears always prick whenever you hear the heavy tread of his boots entering a room, or whenever he rasps out one of his sarcastic jabs in response to the group's antics, or the way your skin tingles if he ever accidentally touches you, shoulder skimming yours when you were hunkered down, waiting in alleyways to pounce on unsuspecting victims to rob or worse, a graze of his fingertips if you occasionally requested he light your cigarette for you. His azure eyes seem to see everything, and yet they look through you in a way that makes you want to weep on your weaker days. You can act as uncaring and indifferent as him outwardly, but on the inside? On the inside, it's like your chest is being squeezed by his apathy. Even the littlest approving glance or backhanded compliment can lift your mood like nothing else, whereas one of his cutting remarks will have you picking over the subject of it for days, wondering if you'd slipped even further down in value in his eyes.

You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over and catching it just in time.

"I'm going for a smoke." you announce to nobody in particular.

"Have fun!” Twice says, waving at you like you were about to board a train. "Take a flyin' leap!"

You disappear out the door, passing where Kurogiri and Compress are playing some card game. Strictly speaking, you don't need to go outside to smoke, it isn't like anybody in the League cares about breathing in your secondhand smoke, but you prefer the privacy of smoking outside, just you and your cigarette and your simmering thoughts. People (usually Himiko) bugging you to ask questions while you were trying to get your precious nicotine hit makes you quite homicidal.

Given who you were affiliated with, it’s best not to be seen just casually hanging around on the street corner. So, you round the building and climb up the rusty fire escape, taking care to compensate for the missing rungs of the ladder or patches of rust that will scrape your hands. The stink of rotting garbage is fortunately not as bad as it could be, the wind is blowing the smell in the other direction.

The base’s rooftop is nice and quiet, and you pop a cigarette in your mouth and cup your hand around the end of it to light it, the snick-snick of the wheel grazing your thumb sounding loud in the silence. A spark flares to life and you lean into it, pulling in a lungful of smoke with relief. It settles something in you, smooths over your frazzled nerves like a comforting hand stroking your hair.

As you take the cigarette between your index and middle finger, you hear a noise, and your head turns. It came from the window built into the brickwork.

Like someone driving past a car accident, repelled and fascinated at once, you slip closer. You can't stop yourself, it's as instinctive as breathing, and you suck hard on your cigarette as your eyes take in the tableau before you.

The girl Dabi brought in is on his futon on all fours. Her little strapless dress has been shoved up over her hips, the shiny black material reminding you of an oil spill. Her face is splotchy, and her makeup looks like it made its excuses and left some time ago - there isn't much glitter left on her eyelids and her lipstick is blotted on her lower jaw from sloppy kisses. Behind her is Dabi and you stifle a gasp at the sight. Normally you never see him out of that black duster he seems to have glued to his body, but now?

Now, you're treated to a very different sight indeed. He's shirtless and though his lower half is obscured by the girl, you can see enough. It's surprising how broad his shoulders are - a swimmer's built, broad shoulders, toned arms that taper into a small waist. He's more muscular than you were expecting too, you can see the tendons in his arms flex as he wraps a hand around the back of the girl's neck.

"Stay still,” he orders her in a husky voice that has you stiffening on your rooftop perch, crouched there like a gargoyle.

She’s panting with excitement already and you hear the jingle as he loosens his belt – not even bothering to slide his jeans off, just undoing the fly and unbuttoning them.

You lean closer to the glass, eyes glued to Dabi, watching him with the rapt attention of someone observing a tragedy on the news in real time. His torso is a map of scars, velvety under the moody lighting on his room, yet you’re enraptured by the sight of him, drinking in the sight greedily. After all, who knows when you’ll get a chance to see this again?

Envy tugs at you and you moodily inhale on your cigarette. What the fuck has this woman got that you haven’t, anyway? What makes her so special he’s willing to fuck her and not you? Your eyes narrow into an angry squint, though that’s partly to protect them from the veil of smoke.

“This what you want, huh?” he asks mockingly to the girl, giving her ass a sharp slap that makes her jolt, and ridiculously, you copy the action like her shadow.

“Yes, yes…” she pants, rocking her hips back, like she just can’t wait anymore, her body quivering in excitement. “Please, please fuck me…”

He laughs, and fuck it’s hot, so rough and condescending. He grips her hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh where no doubt there’ll be finger-shaped marks by the time morning comes.

“You dirty slut.”

He doesn’t seem like he minds too much though, and after a moment’s adjustment he’s leaning forward and the girl’s body jerks as he sinks his cock into her – you don’t need to be able to see it from where you are, the look on her face tells you everything you need to know. Her glossy lips drop open, and she throws back her head.

“Oh-! Oh, god!”

“Yeah? That feel good?” he growls.

Yes. You mouth in answer, her response coming out garbled. You glance around – ridiculously, because you’re on the roof and it’s not like anybody can see you, not unless they were flying directly overhead and somehow you think a helicopter or a plane have more important matters to bother with – and slowly undo your own jeans.

Fuck, you really thought you had more dignity than this, touching yourself to the sight of Dabi fucking someone into the mattress, panting and needy and frustrated, but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t want to stop.

Your fingers slip past the flimsy cotton barrier of your panties as you shamelessly ogle the scene below – the woman doesn’t seem to be wearing any herself, so Dabi thrusts into her unimpeded, making a growling sound that tends a shiver through your body. If you close your eyes, you might even be able to trick yourself into thinking his raspy instructions are aimed at you;

“That’s it. Fuckin’ take it.” He demands, slapping her ass again. “S’what you’re here for, isn’t it? To be fucked.”

Oh god. You think to yourself – you’ve always had a bit of a thing for voices and Dabi’s, when he bothers to talk, is nice. Raspy with a hint of a growl, and you’ve seen him use it to shut up an entire room of bickering people before.

“My own little fucktoy.” he says, a bite in his words, but the woman doesn’t seem to care, only her own mounting pleasure is important, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stop yourself from responding verbally to things not aimed at you. If he heard you up here, you’d be utterly mortified.

Yet, the thrill of it, knowing that all he has to do is look up and he’d clearly see you through the skylight, is doing it for you in a way you’ve never experienced before. There’s a power in being an observer somehow, passing judgement while sitting up here, literally above it all. By now your fingers are soaked, and you’re going to have to sneak back to your own room and find some drier underwear to replace these, but right now it feels so good, such a release, that you don’t care. You don’t care about anything except chasing your own high, pulsing heat building in your core as you sink your fingers in deep, shamelessly using your own teammate as visual and audio aid. Your breathing falls in sync with their panting, fogging up the glass.

Hey, if he didn’t want you using his one-night stand to get yourself off, maybe he should keep his voice down and close the fucking blinds in future.

Dabi's really going at it now, grunting with the effort, plowing into her from behind. The dim lighting plays across his muscles and you're tracing each ridge with your eyes, like you're trying to make a mental map of them. The girl beneath him is moaning away like a pornstar, but Dabi seems disconnected from her, his teeth gritted, one hand gripping the back of her neck to hold her in place.

Your hands shake as you thrust your fingers deeper inside yourself, a whimper muffled behind your teeth that sinks into your bottom lip. Your knees are cramping from your crouched position and there’s a cold breeze whipping up between the alleyway below, creating an impromptu wind tunnel, yet all these unpleasant sensations around you, it only heightens the pleasure building in your cunt, heat sending you breathless.

“Oh god, yes, like that!” the woman wails, throwing her head back, and Dabi growls at her to shut up, even though there’s nothing about his tone or actions that imply he mean it.

She’s making such a racket that you can’t help it – when he pushes her head down so she’s practically kissing the mattress, grabbing her hip and lifting them up so he can plunge even deeper into her, you let out a gasp of your own.

“Oh, fuck yes-!”

And then he snaps his head up and locks eyes directly with you.

You can’t even squeak and pull away – his gaze pins you to the spot. Did he know you were there all along? Prickling shame races up and down your limbs, like you’re being jabbed with a cold needle all over.

Oh my god. You think helplessly, heat scorching your cheeks. He is NEVER going to let you live this down, is he?

But then he grins, wide and sharp, and he starts going even faster, hips snapping against the girl’s in a rough, mercilessly rhythm that rachets up her moaning louder and louder, the lewd smack of skin on skin audible beneath it. And all the while Dabi is watching your dumbstruck expression with a savage smile, knowing you’re unable to pull yourself away. Not until he’s done with the both of you.

She cries out in throes of ecstasy, but you can’t move, can’t bring yourself to keep going now you’ve been caught, even if your bottom half isn’t visible through the skylight – he knows what you were just doing and he’s certainly know if you started up again. Instead, you just sit there dumbly, mouth hanging open as you watch him fuck her to orgasm, her body jerking like a marionette with its strings cut. Dabi puts on a show of his own when he comes, clutching the woman’s hips like his own personal stress toy, throwing back his head and arching his back, all sinuous, writhing muscles.

And all the while he watches you from slitted blue eyes, revelling in the flustered, astonished expression on your face. It’s a good look for you, he decides.

When he’s spent, the woman collapses onto her side, panting, and Dabi tucks himself matter-of-factly back into his jeans without an ounce of self-consciousness to be seen.

“We’re done here. Get out.” He orders her in a toneless voice. Talk about wham, bam, but no thank-you ma'am to go with it.

She turns her head to look at him, astonishment and a smidge of indignation writ large on her face.

“What? Seriously? But how am I meant to- “

“I don’t give a shit. Go.”

He stares her down, all insolence, looking at her like she’s nothing, a bug under his shoe. Quite the contrast for someone who was bottoming out inside her but a few moments ago, and you wince slightly at his coldness, despite yourself. The woman backs down immediately, tugging her dress back down and scrambling awkwardly off the futon. Dabi doesn’t even deign to turn his head to watch her go, merely tracking her out of the corner of his eyes as she stuff her feet into her high heels (which she looks like she’s regretting now), and she’s gone in the blink of an eye, leaving only a lingering silence and tang of her sickeningly-sweet perfume.

Dabi tilts his head back lazily.

“Having fun up there?” he calls up to you, amusement lacing his words, like it’s all a private joke only he is in on, a smirk widening his scarred mouth. “Fuckin’ pervert.”

“I didn’t- didn’t mean to- “you begin, hearing how defensive and ridiculous you sound – you were literally caught right in the act, yet some remaining shreds of self-preservation insist in the falsehood anyway. And it is true that all you wanted to do was have a smoke in peace, at first.

Your words sputter and die an early death when Dabi cuts you off, a command that you have no choice but to obey, his finger curling in a beckon and his cerulean eyes gleaming with promise.

“You like to watch so much? Then come down here and I’ll give you a real show.”

#Dabi x Reader #My Hero Academia #Fanfiction #Reader Insert #MHA Dabi #Smut

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For the X-Men/Gargoyles AU (where the X-Men are set in a Gargoyles-esque universe, but they take the place of those characters), I think I've figured out the new dynamics. This is different from the Gargoyles series, because trying to fit a few X-Men into one character's place was very difficult. So what did I do? Changed it around a bit.

Let's look at it this way:

Logan/Wolverine and Ororo/Storm take the place of Goliath, being a couple or good friends, while Victor/Sabretooth and Raven/Mystique take the place of Demona. So each pair is a friend to the other or a sibling, but aren't romantic. So, Logan and Victor are brothers, Ororo and Raven are sisters, but Logan and Ororo are really good friends or mates, and Victor and Raven are really good friends or mates. Take your pick.

Xavier becomes David Xanatos, and Magneto becomes a mix of Owen Burnett/Puck and Fox, and surprise, they're reincarnated gargoyles this go (which wasn't in the show, but this is my au, so it goes).They're like a cool, mysterious older couple, who always seem to know something Reader doesn't (they know a lot of things they don't, but they'll reveal everything in due time...) (Victor and Raven know, too, and it's the one reason they haven't tried to kill Reader... with the information they have, why would they?)

Hank/Beast takes the place of Hudson, Gambit takes the place of Brooklyn, Kurt takes the place of Broadway, Evan takes the place of Lexington... Bronx, I'm not sure if any of the X-Men had a pet (I'm using X-Men Evolution for this, by the way), so I guess I can add an extra teen... so let's go with... Kitty (why not?).

Reader takes a new role, which is... different to Elisa's. They do some detective work, possibly, but as a teen, maybe. Or maybe they're an assistant to Xavier. They could just be some random person who happened to stumble into all of this. But they take the main character role, I guess, who isn't a gargoyle (they were one in a past life, though, so do with that what you will)

Scott and Jean take the place of Matt Bluestone as well as Coldstone and Coldfire. They're Reader's older friends, (and are the reincarnated spirits of two of the long dead gargoyles from the Wyvern Clan Massacre). Rogue is also their friend, and is like a mix of Morgan the cop, the chief of police, and Elisa's family... (maybe she is related to Reader? maybe not? and she is Kurt's long dead sister reincarnated... so that makes her Raven's daughter, but a human in this new life).

Lance, Todd/Toad, Fred, Pietro, and Wanda are here, too. They might be a version of the Pack (a kid/teen version), they could be a gang similar to one in the series, maybe they're just also random people dragged into this mess. They are there, and that's that.

Now, I say this would have it's own 🌕Longest Night❄ AU, which would be where the adult gargoyles (the reincarnated ones too) are affected by a magical artifact, during the long nights of Winter, and go about surprise adopting (kidnapping) their reincarnated kids... And their gargoyle kids are affected too, but are in a hatchling/younger state of mind. So they aren't going to be much help to Reader or the others. Let's just hope the long nights ahead don't last... And if they do, how do they stop them?

(Ask any questions you want about this au, I'm working on it right now, the Haunted Mansion AU on a break while I work out the main au branch...)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #platonic yandere xmen/gargoyles au #🌕Longest Night❄ AU

[twstfanblog]

I love your writing so much! Your Yuu OC is so cool and I am so obsessed with their energy <3

Writing request time~! Can I get some headcannons of Yuu visiting all of the twst clubs for the first time?

HI FRIEND! Sorry this took me so long to do! But ok, so I actually have this planned out as a chapter in my main story fic. So this is a perfect way to get it all written out for myself!

BUT ONTO THE ASK! MY YUU'S FIRST IMPRESSION OF THE NRC CLUBS!

BASKETBALL CLUB

Hi Jamil~ Flirty to the max, making him miss the shot he was trying to do

Isn't into sports in the slightest, but wanted to see what was offered at the school

Is honestly, too physical to play basketball, she'd be elbowing people in the ribs and Floyd would be supporting her

So for the safety of the other teams, Yuu was not allowed to join

Promises to come to the games to cheer for Jamil and Floyd (And Ace, but fuck him)

TRACK CLUB

Not a chance in hell. Boobs too big to be running around

Made fun of Deuce for thinking the school would have what is basically a motorcycle club

Did tell him it was a good choice of club since he wanted to be a cop in his future

Left the second Vargas showed up

BOARD GAMES CLUB

"Oh cool, Ortho's brother" "I have a name." "I don't care."

Liked the idea of the club, but couldn't see themselves actually joining. Enjoyed making Idia think they were gonna join

First meeting with Azul takes place here

Told them about the concept of 'The Game' and let that seed of chaos be planted into Idia's head to use against Azul at the most random of times (Sorry I made you lose UnU;)

EQUESTRIAN CLUB

"How much money does this school have?????"

Another they had no intention of joining but was really interested in watching

Later on, they help out with basic horse care if free time permits

Yuu: Wow this school really has whole-ass horses on campus? Silver: Silver: As opposed to??? Half-ass horses??? Yuu:

Yuu states only one 'Funny Bitch' can be in a club at a time and Silver clearly holds onto his title well

LIGHT MUSIC CLUB

HI KALIM!

If Yuu had a will for public performing this would be their club! sadly they don't so they didn't join officially.

Yuu still has their music library so they share their world's music with them a lot later on.

Not a member, but will pop in from time to time to do a jam session with them

Lilia gets her a shirt that says 'LMC #1 FAN' on the back as a gift

SPELL DRIVE CLUB

Another sport club that was interesting, but not something they'd do

Only goes to the games if dragged there by the other firsties but is an aggressive fan for Epel

Kepting asking Leona dumb questions because he was trying to sleep DURING TRYOUTS

Yuu likes the concept of Spell Drive, just doesn't have the care to really play or watch it

Has told Epel he should hit someone with his broom though

SCIENCE CLUB

Trey says 'No' with a smile

He's not TRYING to kill Yuu's budding passion for magical sciences, he's TRYING to protect the masses from the bioweapon they're probably gonna make on accident

Rook is so excited, he wants Yuu to join the club so badly

Trey knows Yuu will either make something that will actually kill someone or would drink something they're not supposed to on accident and die.

Yuu was not allowed to join the science club UnU

MOUNTAIN LOVERS CLUB

Honestly, feels so bad for Jade. Dude's clearly got a passion for his hobby and wants to share it with others

But also "Jade are you actually confused why no one wants to join your club and be alone with you in the fucking woods?????"

Not too excited for all the hiking the club seems to be (Interest is peaked at the opportunity to pet a bear though)

Promised Jade if they didn't find a club to join by the end of the day, they'd circle back and join his club

"I'm friends with your brother, you can't make me disappear that easily" "We'll see~"

FILM RESEARCH CLUB

What are you researching????

Honestly, the whole time just asked Vil questions in an attempt to frustrate him and point out how the club was a THEATER CLUB more than a Film Research club

Ends up joining because they ARE a theater club kid and is more than willing to take on the backstage work, that's their favorite part

Does end up being known as having infamously bad movie tastes and ended up traumatizing the whole club via trying to prove a point to Vil by sharing a movie from their world

OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE FILM RESEARCH CLUB~!

GARGOYLE RESEARCH SOCIETY

Didn't know Malleus even had a club until he told her that night

Malleus didn't know the club fair was that day

Yuu shared their pint of depression ice cream with him while he pouted

Compromised in simply joining him on his walks or letting him info dump about a new gargoyle he found or his favored styles

Yuu will walk around abandoned areas themselves sometimes and take pictures to show Malleus to ask if he knows the gargoyle or not

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc

[lauratheghost]

My trip to Montreal

& the Sleep Token show

(long post below)

The Trip:

I went with my sister, who did the driving. The drive there was awesome. We left at 5:30 a.m. and there was no traffic at all. The border took five minutes. We laughed at the "warning Canada ahead" sign (that was like five feet in front of the border 😂)

It was like an hour of driving through massive farms before we reached the city? Idk why but I didn't expect the farms.

Driving in Montreal was another story. It was terrifying 😭 I have car anxiety in general but it was so stressful. It made traffic in Boston not seem so bad. The way the lanes were marked was confusing to us, and some of the signs were also confusing. We hit a speed bump going crazy fast because we had no idea what the sign meant and the actual bump on the ground wasn't yellow (now it seems obvious though, ok 🤷🏼‍♀️😂) and the buses drive crazy fast and one cut us off and almost hit us.

Our phones didn't work as soon as we crossed the border. We tried to add a global package to our plans but it still didn't work. This was only a major problem because we needed GPS. If we missed a turn we would have to find a Harvey's or Starbucks or something to get their wifi and reroute. It took us a long time to get to Laval 😂

Once we got to the hotel we parked the car and didn't use it again until we left. But we took taxis and that was cool! I don't think I've ever taken a taxi before and the drivers were really nice.

We loved our hotel and we could see Place Bell from our window. The area was so nice, and very clean for a city. It feels like Laval is an up-and-coming city because of all the construction we saw, and our hotel was also new apparently.

Everything was so cheap? The lattes I bought were like $6 CAD so $4.40 USD. In my hometown, lattes are double that. All the food and snacks were such a good deal. I stopped obsessively checking my bank account after a while because everything seemed so inexpensive 😂 (Also, I'm a cheap person so this is saying something lol)

It was more of a culture shock than I expected. I knew it was going to be a lot of French but I guess I didn't grasp the reality of that until I was there. Thank God I took french in high school. I could not really hold a conversation, but I could read some signs and menus and kind've get the jist of what people were saying to me.

Everyone was so kind and helpful. We asked a lot of strangers questions and they were all very nice. I only had two small experiences with rude people (and I laughed about it)

Crosswalks were also a bit scary lol. It was weird that some cars still go when the crosswalk button goes off. In my area, all directions of traffic stop while people cross.

My hotel was 50 % people with Sleep Token shirts and 50 % hockey players 😂

We LOVE Tim Hortons 😍 Their iced mocha latte was amazing. I wish I had one in my town now.

Three days went by so fast! It felt like one day.

We went to Mount Royal Park, the Cosmodome, the Biosphere, and La Rhonde. I rode the ferris wheel even though I'm scared of heights. I think my heart stopped for a second but the view was beautiful. 😂🥰

Some random things we noticed- nobody really wears jeans or Crocs 🤷🏼‍♀️😂 everyone dresses a bit nicer. And we didn't see any cops besides event security the entire time we were there, which is unheard of in Massachusetts, I see cops drive by twenty times a day everyday probably. There were lilacs everywhere which I loved. So many people biked- it made me want to be more healthy and active. Public transport seemed very available and I'm jealous of that because public transport where I am is trash.

Can you drink in public? Idk, but we saw a guy drinking a twisted tea while casually crossing the road lol.

The Show:

People were lined up starting around 7 pm the night before 👀

At 5:30 a.m. there was maybe ten or fifteen people camped out with tents and everything. I applaud their dedication, but I could never 😭

I kept an eye on the line and once the merch stand opened I went over and bought a shirt beforehand. I got a t-shirt with the tour dates on it 🖤

The line system seemed really unorganized. Nobody knew what line went where. Besides that, getting inside was easy and I liked the venue.

Our seats had a good view, but we were so high up it made me a bit anxious. It was a little hard to see III because of the fog/lights, and Espera was kind've blocked by a light fixture, but I had a great view of IV and II which made me really happy 🥰

ESB's opening set: So, they are not exactly my cup of tea BUT I don't think they deserve the hate they've been getting. My only problem was that the singers scream sounded the same over and over. I wasn't sure if he was saying the same phrase or not, but it made every song sound the same. They did have some good moments though! There was a moment where he screamed lower/more gutteral and I liked that more. There was also a moment where the guitar and instruments sounded really cool but I can't explain it. I was glad to see they had a little mosh pit going too.

Sleep Token was amazing as expected. I'm forever in awe of how good Vessel sounds live. I was so happy I could see II good too, I loved watching his little dances and hand gestures. I saw III do his little swimming motion and he did get a pit! A pretty big one too from what I saw. I didn't expect them to hand out drumsticks and stuff so early, because they didn't play TMBTE or Euclid yet- but they were just doing that fake-out encore thing I guess. 😂

I love the diversity of the fans at their shows- all types of people and all ages and it's so nice to see 🖤 The guy sitting beside me did not look like someone I would expect to listen to Sleep Token, but he was singing every word and recording all the same parts of their songs as me 😂

After the show I got to meet @shatterthefragments !!! It was so great, and they made awesome ST keychains- I will treasure mine forever 🖤

I still haven't really processed any of this yet because after the show I was constantly busy- between packing up and doing the few last things we wanted to do in the city, and then driving five hours back home. There's videos and pictures from this weekend that I haven't even looked at yet. I will definitely post some videos or photos here soon though

Overall, I give this trip a 9/10

I'm so glad I impulsively bought tickets and got my passport renewed. It was so fun and it makes me wanna travel more in the future. 🖤

#sleep token #personal #ramblings #traveling #montreal #canada #laval #place bell

[andreabandrea]

To be honest I think some people on this site are having too much fun with slurs. Don't call random people fag/dyke. Know which slurs are off limits for you and why. Slurs are hurtful to a lot of people and have a long history and aren't just secret cool words that only some people can say. Being a genderfreak fagdyke doesn't exempt you from transmisogyny and racism, and everyone can benefit from learning about social justice and intersectionality.

So long as I'm talking I want to say that I think its lame that in an attempt to combat strict policing of lgbt identities, some of you have become the cops. Sure, some lgbt people have undefinable genders and constantly shifting experiences with attraction. Some lgbt people also do have a very rigid "I felt like a woman trapped in a man's body and I transitioned and now I see myself as a binary woman" or "I am a woman and I am only attracted to women" type experience. You're not better for having one or the other, and it is weird to constantly ask this "are you sure? what if you're wrong? what if [insane fictional scenario]" type of questioning that so many of us have heard so many times already from cishet people. And on that note if I see one more person say that a cis male twink is fundamentally 'the same' as a trans woman I'm going to start killing people on the street.

This policing always seems to come down the hardest on trans women and lesbians and I want you all to think really hard about why this is. Have some respect for and decency toward your siblings and remember that your words and actions affect other people.

#bandrea blabbers #tbd

[dramatisperscnae]

@thegirlwondcr [x]

"Okay, first off--thank you, thank you, thank you." Emma started off, trying to ease into actually answering his question. "Also, you are my favorite brother, I don't know if I've ever told you that, but you are." This seemed like the best way to approach this. The happier he was, the more chances she had of Bruce never knowing about this. The crime? Embarrassment, to say the least. A misunderstanding that escalated way too quick, that probably would have never happened if she had never been trained as Robin. "I was just getting a few snacks at this convenience store. Because there are just some snacks Alfred will refuse to get me because he says they are way too unhealthy, but sometimes it is just nice to have an overprocessed snack full of dye." Emma justified before actually getting into the crime at hand. "Well, I bought some snacks and on my way out some random customer said 'Hey you didn't pay for that' when after I just did that. So naturally, I argued with him, and then he reached over to me to which I then punched him in the face because I thought he was trying to attack me or something. Then he punches back, and then we are just punching back and forth until the cops showed up..." Then she hesitated, embarrassment and regret clear on her face. "Turns out I had left a pack of crackers in my pocket..." "But you have to promise not to tell Bruce about it, he will bench me for an entire year. You also can't tell Alfred because then he's going to just make me eat vegetables nonstop for the next six months." She begged of her brother. "Nobody got hurt! Well except for the guy--but broken noses can heal! And I can cover all my bruises in concealer or just say I fell off the bleachers like five times."

Quite honestly, it was all Dick could do to keep a straight face as Emma launched into her explanation. He hadn't really cared why she'd been at that convenience store - if she wanted snacks she could have snacks, he wasn't going to tell her no considering his own eating habits would probably have Alfred giving him a lecture on proper nutrition if the man ever found out - he'd been more interested in why she'd been in a fight.

Turned out, the story was so incredibly facepalm worthy Dick really had to fight not to laugh. An overreaction of epic proportions that, honestly, as a lone girl on Gotham streets, Dick couldn't entirely fault her for; strange men grabbing for you would make anyone react, and some people's fight-or-flight only had one setting. Add in an accusation of theft and, well, it was almost understandable.

Almost.

The good thing was that Emma seemed to understand she'd fucked up. By rights Dick ought to be delivering the lecture he knew Bruce probably would, about responsibility and reasonable application of force and all that jazz, but quite honestly Emma seemed fully aware of what she'd done and why she'd been in the wrong here. Mostly, anyway. And she'd almost certainly be getting that lecture from Bruce anyway once the man heard about it; Emma was incredibly naive to think it wouldn't get back to him somehow.

"You honestly think you got dragged down to GCPD Central and Commissioner Gordon isn't gonna hear about it?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow. "And once he hears about it, Bruce definitely will. This not even getting into the fact that since Bruce is your legal guardian he's probably already been notified anyway even though you called me to come get you." No, there was no way Bruce wasn't going to know about this. What there could be was Dick on Emma's side to try and soften whatever punishment might be coming.

"Look, you know you fucked up, right?" he asked. "Forget about should'ves and shouldn'ts, you know you fucked up, right? Maybe the guy could've handled his side better, but you going right to violence?" That wasn't how Bruce trained her. Dick knew that for certain. Especially in civilian life, de-escalation should be the immediate go-to.

#thegirlwondcr #dick ic #dick verse: gone solo #[Dick just out here trying not to laugh at the entire situation and be the responsible one for five minutes XD]

[inbabylontheywept]

So, the funniest not funny thing that I've run into this week is that some guy tried to commit suicide by cop at my facility. He just parked in front of the gate and pressed random codes in until the system locked everything down. We were actually pretty freaked out about it until the security forces came back from the gate and told us about it while laughing. So, first thing to note about the security forces on site is that their normal job is getting on quads with AR-15's loaded with blanks and chasing the deer off site. This is for the deer's welfare (we do not want deer wandering into the microwave testing area) and for ours (we do not want anything to disturb the asbestos pit while we are downwind). These are goofy, cheerful 19 year olds. They have the coolest job in the entire world. They didn't even realize that this could be a real threat, they assumed it was just some dumbass trying to walk in by spam pressing the buttons hoping they'll work. (Button spamming is a surprisingly effective strategy, I am not going to tell you how many codes around the base are just the same four numbers over and over.) Anyway, security arrived at the gate to ask the guy to stop and go away, and the guy took the time to announce that he hated the US military and was a member of ISIS.

The first part is not a big deal, the second part was. The security forces, bless them, decided that this seemed unlikely, but worth testing, so they asked the guy a simple question: Could he say literally anything in Arabic? And the guy say, "Allah."

The security forces were like okay, fair, we set the bar pretty low. Can you say anything else, and the guy literally couldn't. Not even dumb shit like "Kebab." He just kept yelling that he was a real goddamn member of ISIS and demanding that they shoot him. They tried to convince him to move his car, and he said that he was going to refuse to until they shot him, and they were like "What if you moved your car, and then we shot you? In case you can't move your car after being shot," and the guy refused. He then threw rocks over the fence until the security forces backed up like another 20 feet, and told him that everyone there was paid hourly. Then he left. So. You know. Stressful, in the sense that having someone who is dangerously unwell show up at your job and try to provoke violence is stressful. But also funny, in the way that the 19 year old dorks tried to reason with this guy, and the failed bluff check that was their attempt at getting him to move his car. And then him driving off him a huff when he realized that getting paid to do nothing isn't nearly as annoying as he hoped it was. (Security said they got his license when he turned around and passed it on to the police. I have no idea what happened after that, but I can guarantee you that the police will have handled things with less grace and tact than those 19 year olds on their quads.)

#storytime #we do have an asbestos pit #theres actually a ton of flowers and grass and stuff on top because we cant mow there #so the deer fucking love grazing on top #honestly no idea why they like the microwave testing area though that area is kind of crusty

[marmakar]

Got a random question! Do you have any Sexuality Headcanon on the major characters? I would love to hear your Sexuality headcanon on Donald Love.

Yeaaah, sure! I don't know which part of GTA series to take, so I'll take characters that I have headcanons for.

More often I'm just starting from the canon and what we have.

Donald Love: Homosexual (GTA 3 and VC it's not expressed, but in GTA LCS we can know a lot. Honestly, he just leave main protagonist with compliments and they look more like flirting. He is trying. Come on! Donald's first mission's cutscene literally begins with when he happily trying to dance with Toni and hugging a person he doesn't know at all. And another interesting detail is that he would say "WE" about any mission, when Toni rejected. And only at the end, Toni nevertheless began to speak on behalf of "WE", ahah. Another fact. Donald gave Toni a mission to steal the bodies of only men's character. IDK maaaan. Kinda SUS character. We LOVE Mr. Love).

Lance Vance: Bisexual with homosexual tendencies. At first, in the VC his behavior seemed SUS to me. Probably the moment he calls Tommy after mission Cop Land and begins to literally complain at some point that he doesn't pay attention to him like he is his boyfriend fr: "Why should I be? You don't care about me, do you? You gotta look after me a bit better". Well, in the VCS only this feeling finished off. More gay jokes update, LMAO. Lance is so cool underrated character.

Asuka Kasen: Bisexual in canon, but I see her as a lesbian. In the plot she is literally have BDSM session with Maria in GTA 3. I didn't play or watch walkthrough GTA Advance, but I just read she also have BDSM session with Mike (GTA Advance Protagonist). A cool dominating woman.

Reni Wassulmaier: Pansexual and just ICON. This is not discussed!

Ahh enough for now. It’s difficult for me. My memory is fish's memory. If your want to hear about character who doesn't mention here, just ask about, it will be easier for me to write.

Don't forget the truth: "Bruh, all characters in GTA is gay (c)" /j

#?'s #donalni #asuria

[villainessbian]

Hello. Sorry if this question will be too controversial for you, I understand.

You seem like a well studied person, so I wanted to ask if you could help me research something I don't know where to start with.

Recently I've seen a growing discourse on twitter about... Whether trans women or trans men are more oppressed. And in my opinion, measuring the degree of oppression is very easy! But no-one in this discourse is doing that. You can do so by looking at the rate of poverty among different genders of trans people, and which group experiences more crime directed at them, and which group is more happy.

But I'm not sure how to find the research for that. I'm not an academic. Do you think you could help me?

Thank you 💗

Measuring the degree of oppression is not easy, I don't think these stats exist at all (because who would pay for them? no one with that kind of money wants us alive), and oppression is not the olympics.

Discourse-y things under the cut.

In my experience transfems seem to be "more oppressed" in the sense that the pressure to oppress transfems is stronger. Everyone agrees transfems are the ones that the overwhelming majority of discourse targets, even the people who disagree with the conclusion and say that this is proof of invisibility of non-transfem trans people. Find a random act of transphobic hate, and the likelihood that the person who did it even knows transmasc people exist to be a target isn't very high. Look at the "accidental ally" posts and 99.9% of them is bigots trying to be transmisogynistic at transmascs because they're used to transmisogyny.

And the final point - transmisogyny exists as a separate thing. Transphobia targeted at transfems, transphobia targeted at transmascs, generic transphobia targeted at everyone are three different expressions of the same thing. Transmisogyny is a separate thing on the side, and the attemps to mirror it with "transmisandry" or "transandrophobia" all just point to the aforementioned "transphobia targeted at transmascs" and nothing different, nothing specific. Transmisogyny stands "on its own" in a way, though it is specifically the interplay of transphobia and misogyny into creating something new. The way trans women (and transfems in general) are simultaneously not believable victims, easy victims, and "no, actually perpetrators" of interpersonal violence, especially sexual violence. It coexists *all at the same time* in people's minds that trans women are not women, and that desires that target women can and do target trans women. That trans women hold less power than other women to stop you doing whatever, but also that they hold more power than you on what you do so they're responsible for what you do to them. That trans women are dangerous, and that they're the easiest demographic to focus on for an attack. The theory that they're part of a secret cabal to control the world ("cabal" used on purpose - this theory HEAVILY overlaps with anti-semitism) coexists with the knowledge you can call cops on trans women and endanger their lives instantly even if you were aggressing them. When KJK/posie parker had her rally and Nazis showed up sieg heiling with a "destroy pedo freaks" poster, "pedo freaks" was aimed at trans women specifically. Hell, the terf rhetoric that does target transmascs specifically (all the lost lesbian/brainwashed autist/permanent damage to sweet kids/etc bullshit) assumes more often than not - if not always - that transmascs are passive victims of the horribleterrible "trans ideology" spearheaded by public enemy number one, the predatory "man in women's clothes/womanface."

In the purest senses of "who has the most kinds of oppression" and "who is targeted the most directly by oppression," transfems are "more oppressed" than transmascs, but just saying that accomplishes nothing and serves little purpose. You can't predict how easy someone's life is because of that. Is it also shit for transmascs dealing with all this? Definitely. And transmascs dealing with transphobia also have to deal with misogyny - this time not as an interplay, but as something that inevitably happens as a second step. When transphobia is aimed at transmascs, a huge part of it leads back to some "you should have been a woman and become an objectified baby oven" horror scenario.

The social pressure to hate transfems is stronger, there is a special social construct/social dynamic that materialised specifically out of trying to destroy transfems, but that's like comparing losing two fingers to losing a hand - we want no one to lose anything, not discourse about which one is worse. Recognising that transmisogyny exists doesn't serve the purpose of being a gotcha to transmascs, it serves the purpose of fighting transmisogyny. Fighting transmisogyny doesn't happen without fighting all transphobia. (It is possible to fight transphobia without going the "extra mile" to fight transmisogyny, which kinda leaves transfems behind to deal with their issues, but for all the internet discourse I've seen I've literally never met someone who did that. I've heard of bad people doing that because they don't care, but I haven't even heard of them on my continent).

Plus, everyone's situation is different. You can lose two fingers and die to gangrene, you can lose the entire arm and heal well. I don't see how stats would be able to accurately reflect the diversity of factors. You'd need to check for so many things. Weigh against time. There is no unbiased sample that doesn't figure in the millions at the very least with such a diverse group.

[lazysailor]

3-Avery

Avery thought the moment the shot gun was pointed at his head his sixteen years of life would end here and there. But his thoughts were turned out to be false as the girl slowly lowered her shotgun and eventually she dropped it on the ground.

“Oh thank you.!” Averys says at the moment.

He didn’t know exactly what to say and thanking her seemed to be the first thing in his mind. Avery then quickly realized he didn’t even know if he was allowed to come inside the deer stand.

“So uh, can I come in?” He asks Kayden.

She seemed to think about it for a moment before she stepped aside like she was letting him in, it was clear she was introverted or just didn’t like to speak. Avery climbed his way inside the deer stand and she shut the door behind him once he was in. He quickly saw that the deer stand was already set up with a sleeping bag and another one was wrapped up in the corner. So Avery grabbed the bag and sat down next to the girl's sleeping bag along with him taking his backpack off, like there wasn’t that much room in the deer stand anyway. He sat down on his sleeping bag and turned around to face Kayden who was still standing by the door.

“Are you gonna sit down?” Avery asks her

She seemed to think about what she should do, but she then shortly sat down next to him on her sleeping bag.

“My name’s Kayden.” She suddenly tells him while she seems to be avoiding direct eye contact with him.

Avery knew it wasn’t smart to tell random people his name, even now it was a big risk since he could get ratted out to a juvey cop easily if he told someone his name. But he had this gut feeling that she wasn’t gonna rat him out since she appeared to be in the same situation as him.

“Well my name is Avery, it’s nice to meet you Kayden.” He tells her with a smile and he holds out his hand for a handshake.

It seemed like she took a minute to process what he was trying to do with her. But once she understood she carefully shook his hand.

“It’s also nice to meet you, Avery.” Kayden tells him while she was now making eye contact with him.

They sat in silence for who knows how long, they both just met each other so there wasn’t that much room for conversation. Eventually Avery came up with a question he felt like he should ask her. It was about how she nearly shot him earlier.

“So why did you try to shoot me earlier?” He asks her

“I don’t know..I guess it was just because I thought you were a juvey cop or something, and I didn’t want to get sent away.” Kayden tells him with what seemed like honesty in her tone.

Avery thinks about what she just told him. It actually made perfect sense, yes killing is wrong, but it seemed like to him she just resorted to that in the moment.

“I don’t blame you, I would try to protect myself if a juvey came near while I was on the run.” He says to her.

They both sat in silence again for a few moments.

“Sorry if I scared you earlier.” Kayden apologizes to him.

“Who am I kidding? I definitely scared you.” She says to herself quietly but it was loud enough for Avery to hear.

“It’s fine Kayden, I can now understand why you restored to that.” Avery reassures her

Avery then noticed the heater and pulled it towards the both of them, he then turned it on. The room almost turned warm in an instant as the November night was kicking in. Avery also noticed that Kayden seemed to get more comfy now as she was under her sleeping bag. He then thought of an idea that could’ve been seen as smart or stupid, but he decided to go along with it either way.

“Hey Kayden.” He simply says so he could catch her attention.

“Yeah.?” She simply asks as she turns around and faces him.

“I’ve been thinking about it and I was wondering if you wanted to travel like a duo, an AWOL duo?” He asks her

#unwind #unwind dystology #unwind fanfic

[chucktaylorupset]

Dashboard osmosis question: disco elysium

dashboard osmosis meme!

*presses hands together and inhales* chucked me straight into the deep end with this one.

Disco Elysium is a futuristic sci fi maybe cyberpunk video game (?) with gameplay that is a lot of multi colored text and thus the fandom should be friends with us over here in the land of 17776 for medias that make people point and howl homestuck!

it is a game where you can sit in a chair wrong and it kills you?

It is about some fucking guy who is not doing great. i knew his name at one point but i HARRY HIS NAMES HARRY. I REMEMBER. harry duboit/dubois?? dubois. harry dubois.

harry has maybe brain damage and lost his memory? And his brain is constantly multitrack drifting so you see all possible lines of thought even if there's only one which he'll say out loud. Despite his some fucking guy, basic sad white dad energy, he is constantly saying the most unhinged of shit only some of which is communist.

he is also constantly failing at things i think this game uses a random skill check plus ability score modifier so he will end up shitting and pissing and killing himself after you asked him to, like, buy four packets of ramen noodles which im sure is frustrating and endearing

The other buddy in the central buddy cop dynamic is Kim Kitsuragi who is the divine saint of everyone but specifically transmascs, he's gay, if you're willing to work for it,

he's also the best, everyone loves him, they would rather die than disappoint him, he is also weird but you wouldn't know it because there's never time to talk about it with how everybody gushes about loving him. i am tentatively hopeful he is helpful to the whole harry being literally too dumb to live thing, but he also doesn't seem to care at all about harry's brain injury so maybe not

my guess would be that kim and harry are trying to solve a case since they do seem to be bastard cop partners but honestly i have no idea about anything to do with the plot. harry and kim have enough vocal specificity to spawn a bunch of memes that are also really long walls of text that i scroll through without reading.

#how'd i do #ask meme #my post #disco elysium #dashboard osmosis

[martinys-world]

The Girl (2)

so chapter 2 is out. please let me know what you think in comments. the drawing took the longest. also because the movie is new at the time of typing this. I was stuggling with doing all of this by mermory --love you all

“SLIVER! Wake up dog.”

I launch forward. Breathing heavily. Feeling my surroundings soft floor. Car windows in front of me. I am on earth I am in reeks car, in the Back seat. 

“You look like you were going to mess someone up.” 

Now I am differently on earth.

“Hey reek.” 

I slowly climbed out of the backseat of his car. There was no way I was going back to sleep any time soon. 

“Are you fighting that monster again.” 

“Yea something like that.”

Monster was the excuse I used to when I toss and turn. No one ask anything more. I  pulled out my two bags. They were basically my lifelines. A mini purse backpack I put around my waist. While the black and green on was on my back. I got to do a lot today.

“Thanks for letting me crash in the back seat.”

I was shaking my head getting the bed rest hair gone. 

“No problem. You help me more than I can ask for it’s the least I can do.”

“Either way thanks and call me if you need me.”

“Hey before you run off will you be okay.  I have seen you toss and turn in your sleep and beating up those “monsters” before, But not like this.”

“I mean it one of those dreams where it seems like a memory but it’s not.”

“what’s the memory?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t being clear.”

My watch began beeping. 

“I’m going to be late. I got to go.”

“Hey, be careful and No more disappearing without a word.”

“I’ll try, can’t promise.”

Someone holding a bag of apples when one apple began falling to the ground. I put my knee out and let it bounce back. In the bag. Putting the ear buds in my ear so I can dim the world around me. I pulled random granola bar out my purse. I need something in my stomach, Or I will be the monster in real life. This will have to do. Substation was my fast possible route to get to where I am needed.  The subway gets me a moment to write in my journal. I always wrote in something, ever since I little I would wright anything that was worth remembering. That not the first time I dream about something like that. but this is the first time interacting with the environment. 

These dreams play out like a movie. I was always on the side just watching everything unfold. like people do in a theater. most of the dreams that I do remember are fragments. I had one were two lover’s kisses. I had one where a farther is knocking down his daughter. There are too many that I remember. my mine can't remember the last time a thing like this happens. This is diffidently first time some being has died. 

Why did he say midnight. Who midnight I am sliver and no one else. After sitting in a spot that was safe as you could be. I open my big bag and pull out a notebook the said ‘I need space’ and it had a galaxy in space background. It a sketch book but I write and draw in it. a ton of people have called it many names. Reek called it a journal before. I had many people call it my dairy. Buster jokingly said before it my evil planner. Yea right buster. I can't hurt a fly even If I wanted to. In a way It’s a journal of me. my life, people I meet, my dreams. I hope this journal shows that I was not perfect. I am human just like everyone else. 

After going to a blank page. I was sketching the whole dream; the face of the ape was first thing that came to mind.  The sequence was mushy, but I did my best on all the important parts. 

Above the guy that won the battle.  I wrote scrouge in big sharp letter. Underneath him. I wrote bad guy with a question mark.  Because to everyone can be a bad guy to a family like scourge could be bad to just this ape and his family. Then have no fire with me. I have a feeling that not the case. it a possibility can't full rule out the. ‘Proven until guilty’ what the cops say.  Above the ape I wrote Apeling. Leader of the maximal.

Why did I write that and why did that feel right. Who are the maximal? Confusion filled my brain with how I know any of this. Let alone where did these works come from?

“You will know soon.” A whisper came from my left.  there was no one there when I turn my head. the seat was completely empty and there was no one behind me that could be close enough to say it. 

“Next stop Broadway Ave. “

Closing the book and grabbing my bags. I slip past people.my body has a flow. I slip pass people without touching them knowing I was there. anyone would use it to their advantage when its places like this.    At these times it almost completely true and I used it. I have gotten to the top of the stairway without any issue. 

“I don’t want to, but I need too.” I spotted the clinic with its massive red plus sign. Speedy across the sidewalk to reach it without any difficulties walk over. I pull out a 10 I had in my pocket and put it in buster cup. 

“Hey sliver.” 

“Hey buster. Keep both of stomachs full.”

“You know I feed him before I feed myself.” 

 Buster was a homeless guy with a lot mental and physical problems. He is ex-military soldier, who lost his arm in battle. With the battle on top of that he has severe PTSD. Then there Altan a small brown and white boxer, that found his way in buster arms.  Altan means second chance. Buster even admitted feeling like he gotten a second chance, ever since he meant the boxer. 

“That is loyalty, at its finest”

I open the door. where there was no line, making me not delay any longer. 

“Here for sliver.”

 The lady behind desk. Look at her Monitor. 

“Ahh yes for your shots right.”

“Yea” I said grimly. 

“It will be over before you know it.” She said with an empathetic smile and pointed to the waiting room.  

No one hates them like me. me and needles have a VERY bad history. Before I can go down memory lane. I spot an eleven-year-old by his self. Seem like Noah was trying to speed up the waiting process again. 

“Hey tails”

“Hey sliver, you getting your shots done?” 

“Yea, you know me and needles. Did you finish that level with bowser?”

No, I gotten him down like 5 percent. One attack away from wining. Then I died.”

“Oh man. You were almost there. You were one hit away?”

“Yea.”

“how about this, I help you beat him tonight?”

“It sounds like fun.” 

“Okay I have nothing planned after this, so I can follow you home.”

“My brother has an interview.”

“I can still follow and keep you company. An interview takes about an hour.” 

“SLIVER.” Said a nurse in blue.

“Looks like my que. Hey, can you watch greenie I have a feeling you would be here a bit.” Only grabbing my purse and my journal that still in my hand.

“Sure.”

“Be back tails.”

Nothing special happen. They ask the classic questions. Took my measurements, and weight. Am I don’t any drugs. Am I smoke so on so forth. 

When I was left in the room, I wrote in my journal my weight and height. I still average size, but I grew an inch. Now, I am 5’5. I went to the page with the monkey and robot. I know I need to add more. Like that ball or sphere in my dream and they shape of that key. Just trying to do whatever to distract myself.  Form mine understand this “scourge” is linked to this “Unicron” in some way.  I am guessing, that this Unicron eats planets to fill their hunger. These Maximals are keeping this key away. I drew just a diamond because the closest I can draw it because it went with that second ape.  I barely saw him for a minute.

Okay main thing to take away from this dream so far. key from Unicron. This Scrouge and Terrorcons do whatever Unicron says.  These Maximals are this guardian of this key. That would make him more powerful. They swore to play keep away.

This is all to my understanding. Many questions are going through my head. what is this key. where did the rest of the Maximals go. what more is out there? who is this ‘midnight’? the biggest question that I have was, why me? I just a nobody that just run and knows a lot of random facts. 

I just kept sketching I just let my hand wonder.

 A doctor in white coat came in. my right sleeve was already rose up for her. So, I can get this over.  my legs were crossed, so this book was in some what a stable condition.

“that’s a nice wolf you are drawing there.”  

A black wolf was under the word midnight. Was that midnight?  My gut was saying yes but didn’t want to trust it on something as a drawing. I can't seem to find a reason to disagree. 

“Thank you.”  I said trying to be polite. Now realizing she was cleaning up.  

This wolf was nothing like me. I am a human from my planet earth. I am walking on two feet not four. I have hair, not fur. There so much that different between the two of us. could the ape confuse my kindness for her, or Mr. Apelinq could have been having a life flash before his eye’s moment. 

I HATE not knowing. I also know that I am not getting an answer.  While I was going down this worm hole of possibilities or theories. The appointment was over before I know it. Prefect timing to as I was walking out sonic, and tails were about to start there’s. 

“I got it tails, go.” 

I traded places with him. I pull out the last cholate chip cookie I had in the green bag. Staring monkey with graphite eyes. Like he could talk back.

“How can I solve this mystery?

Tag: @apexprime.

#transformers-x-reader #transformers x reader #transformers #rotb #tf rotb #tf x reader #optimus #beast wars #fanfiction #unicron

[discogranny]

Guide for calling 911

911 dispatchers are trained to fulfil a lot of tasks at the same time. As the caller, you’re kept in the dark about all that we do to save both of us time. I’m gonna pull the curtain that veils 911 a little to try and relieve some stress you might feel before calling us.

A lot of calls start out by people saying “I don’t know if it’s an emergency” or “I don’t know if I should call you but…”. Overall, don’t worry about it! Worse case scenario we transfer your call or give you a phone number to call to receive the help you need. There’s never a situation where we’re mad you called us. We know you have a need and we’re there to fulfill it.

Firstly, when you call 911 it’s primordial you know where you are. If you do not know the address of your location, try to look around, if possible. Dispatchers need a location to send emergency services to you.

Try to find the nearest street corner, store-fronts sometimes have the address written on them, even a park or a landmark can be good. The same goes with highways, look for an exit sign or a km/mile marker.

A lot of people do not know what highway marker are so they usually look like a variation of this all across North America :

Secondly, it’s the call-takers job to take control of the call. Pointed questions will be asked. While some might seem random and maybe extensive, they all serve a specific purpose. (What service do you need? Do I need to transfer your call to another call centre? What are the risks, for both you and the emergency responders? How many people are needed to help you? Etc.)

When a question is asked, answer it directly. Try not to trail off or change the subject. Because we will be forced to come back to the same question before we move on, making both of us lose time.

Thirdly, everything said needs to be written down so only answer to what is asked, f.e. if you’re asked to provide a description, it’s highly likely we ask one item at a time. Otherwise we might miss an information or get them wrong. It sounds stupid but usually people speak faster than they type so this is to prevent mistakes on the call-takers side.

And here is an obligatory reminder : 911 calls are recorded. All of them. Don’t lie to us and don’t make threats. If you don’t know something just say it, we won’t hold you accountable for something you didn’t see or might’ve missed. But the calls can be used in trials and you don’t want to end up in the crossfire of the court because you threatened someone or lied about what happened. Never say you want to kill someone or beat someone up, It’s understandable to be frustrated but cops will use that against you.

Also try not to scream, cry or talk to other people while on the line with us. Cryings the hardest to control on this list and we understand it but try to ground yourself a little, we really appreciate the effort and it helps us a lot to understand you better.

Now here’s a rapid fire list of advice :

1. Google your foreign friends police department’s phone number. If something happens and they need police/ambulance, you could save their lives and a good amount of time by calling the PD directly they’ll be able to help faster than your local 911 call centre could, since if its in a different country we often don’t have a direct link and cannot transfer your call. So having a direct number is very useful. (you’d obviously need their address for this)

2. Save your car’s information on your phone. Make, model, colour, year, licence plate. If it gets stolen you’ll be able to give all the information.

3. If you’re calling about someone specific, try to have their full name and date of birth ready. In worse case scenarios, this can help us and the emergency services greatly to find them in our systems (to get hold of a family member, triangulate them or even previous addresses).

Now go live life and let’s hope you don’t have to call 911!

#911

[nancy-drew-is-bae]

Nancy Drew: Curse of Blackmoor Manor Thoughts/Review (a thread)

I have a feeling there will be updates to these lists, but here is the first category!

Group 1: No Spoilers (Minimal discussion of gameplay. Characters are discussed at surface level. No culprit mentions at all, duh.)

Where are the bathrooms? Or even just one honestly. I know the manor was built in the mid 14th century, but I find it very hard to believe that no one in the past 700+ years thought it reasonable to add indoor plumbing. Especially given the well that used to be full of water with a functioning sprayer nozzle.

As a follow up to that, where is Mrs. Drake getting water from to water all of those plants in the conservatory? She says the well dried up when Alan died (ten years prior to game start), so where has she been getting water from? Don't even try to tell me that this 78 year old woman is walking up and down 2 flights of stairs with a bucket of water (1 gallon of water weighs about 8 lbs, for reference). The conservatory contains between 75-100 plants (my best estimate) including TREES. Just think about how much exertion that would involve to carry that kind of water up and down stairs at 78 years of age. But lets just say, for the sake of argument, she is carrying the water down the stairs. Where would she even get it?? There are no sinks in this stupid (affectionate) house. She can’t use the kitchen – it went kablooey. Again I ask, WHERE ARE THE BATHROOMS?

Speaking of Mrs. Drake, keep in mind she’s 78. Is she seriously cleaning the whole manor by herself? The Penvellyns are basically nobility and Hugh is currently a diplomat. How do they not have house staff like a maid? No wonder Mrs. Drake is so anal about tracking mud on the floors. Honestly, I don’t blame her. But also, just hire a maid? They can afford to have high quality food ordered, and delivered mind you, for an indefinite period, but a maid is too much? Ridiculous. (I’m well aware of Mrs. Drake’s spiel about “self-reliance” and house staff being gossiping “ne’er do wells”, I just think it’s ridiculous and a cop out)

Why is Mrs. Drake only grey in 4 spots at 78 years old?

Is The Boar’s Head Pub delivering meals on fine china and silver platters? Or is Mrs. Drake taking meals from a Styrofoam to go box and plating it all fancy? Is the delivery person entering Nancy’s bedroom at random and without warning or is Mrs. Drake taking it in there? If Mrs. Drake is using the manor’s dishes, how in the world is she washing them? She can’t use the kitchen – it went kablooey. Again I ask, WHERE ARE THE BATHROOMS?

The library has 1-2 additional floors Nancy can’t access. Next to Nigel there is what appears to be a staircase on the secondary floor of the library, but only part of it is visible. The question remains, does this lead to a third floor of the library that isn’t otherwise visible at all, or is it the entrance to the second floor? There isn’t a way to reach the second floor from the main room of the library.

Where are Ethel and Nigel staying??? Mrs. Drake refers to them as also being house guests, but there are no additional bedrooms! Also, she says Jane is “staying with us,” which makes it sound like she is temporarily visiting, but like, she lives there? Her dad owns the place, why wouldn’t she live there lol.

Why does Nigel leave his laptop sitting out overnight and without password protection? Or for that matter turned on?? How does he have his laptop powered on 24/7 without being plugged in? Especially in 2003, good golly.

Why is it always daytime outside the window in Nancy’s room she stays in? The lighting is always identical in the conservatory as well and seems to indicate sunlight coming in through the glass roof.

Are we given a reason why Hugh and crew move back to the manor? They’ve been living in America for 10+ years and Jane was in public/private school. Linda was from America as well, so why exactly did Hugh uproot his entire family to go live with his elderly aunt he isn’t even close to?? Maybe I’m just not remembering the reason, but it seems strange to me.

Jane loves Brady Armstrong, but she doesn’t own a TV. I guess she watched the Heartthrob Channel in America, but still. It seems weird she doesn’t complain she can’t watch TV anymore.

Why doesn’t the manor have any sort of formal sitting room, piano room, living room, dining room, etc? If there was a door or two that we couldn’t enter (like they’re locked and Nancy says it’s off-limits) I could be much more forgiving. But as is, there’s nowhere a sitting room, bathrooms, additional guest rooms, laundry room, closets, etc. could be. For goodness sakes, Jane doesn’t even have a closet, dresser, shelves…ANYTHING for storage in her room. Like, where are all her clothes?? How are any of the characters getting clean or going to the bathroom? WHERE ARE THE BATHROOMS

How is Loulou 80+ years old when virtually no one seems to feed her besides Nancy? Jane has the fancy cake supplies, but what was Mrs. Drake feeding Loulou for the past 10 years?

Why and how has Mrs. Drake lived at Blackmoor by herself for the past decade? She’s elderly, this seems unwise.

How are the Penvellyns able to heat a massive greenhouse (essentially) in the middle of the UK such that they can keep palm trees alive for decades??

Nancy’s phone time is in military/24hr time, but she doesn’t have a way to “google” or ask anyone how to read military time. If you are a sheltered 10 year old in 2003, I’m not sure how the game expects you to be able to decipher the time…I guess if you looked at the clock in Nancy’s room you could figure it out, but still. She could have had an article on her phone about it.

Why doesn’t Nancy ever drink tea in this game?? She’s in the UK, that feels like a hate crime or something. Granted, even more concerning, Nancy never drinks anything during the entire game, despite eating numerous meals at Blackmoor.

Nancy having numbers on two separate phones with no overlap is not ideal. To put it lightly.

Some of the random spots where Nancy can use her phone feel somewhat passive aggressive (like in the library).

You can see slightly higher towards the ceilings before stepping through the doorways even though you should be more limited on how high you can see from outside the room. (This might make absolutely no sense and I apologize)

The East Hall is more like a closet than a hall.

Hugh and Linda decided to unpack their books and framed photos in their bedroom, but not uncover the furniture to maximize how much it feels like an estate sale.

The ceiling rafters are visible through the solid wood bedframe in Linda’s room. Multiple items within this one room are reflective or translucent that I feel like shouldn’t be and it truly feels like a fever dream.

Jane and Nancy’s rooms are extremely similar in size, windows, etc. and they’re also on the same wall of the hallway upstairs. Linda’s room is completely different and on the same wall (right next to) Mrs. Drake’s room. Does this mean Linda and Mrs. Drake have similar rooms too?

The way Nancy says “loop de loop” sounds like her mouth is full of toothpaste and she’s impersonating a washing machine rinse cycle.

The game contradicts itself about when Randulf the Red was alive and gifted the Penvellyn lands. Most sources cite the middle of the 14th century; however, Nancy’s web search says the 12th century and Nigel himself says the 15th century. According to the Penvellyn family tree in Jane’s room, Randulf died in 1401, but no birth year is listed. Is the game trying to insinuate he was vaguely immortal or was it simply a continuity error? I’m assuming the latter.

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