mothmans-left-buttcheek

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

Pretend I'm a Random Girl

Older!Modern! Eddie Munson x Older!Modern! Reader

ao3

Word Count- 1.3k

Summary- You've been seeing a new trend for couples on TikTok, so you decide to put your partner Eddie to the test... he doesn't react how you expect him to.

Warnings- Eddie is a 59 year old man in 2025... let that sink in

A/N- First x reader fic, omg, but look I thought it'd be funny. So enjoy some fluff of old man Eddie!

Your thumb grazed easily along your phone screen. The light of dancing videos, cooking recipes, and out of context trauma dumps illuminating your face as you doom scrolled. TikTok wasn’t anything like any media you had, hell you didn’t even have proper social media till the 2000s. But it wasn’t hard to understand why so many young people were addicted to it.

One trend was reoccurring on your “for you page.” A trend where women tested their romantic partners by pretending to be strangers and flirting with them. The results were hilarious! Mostly they’d shout and scramble away from their partner, some even harshly pushing them onto the ground.

So, knowing full well Eddie barely touched social media, you decide to give it a shot.

You find him standing over his table in his office, the surface still covered in miniatures from his friend’s most recent D&D session. His long wavy hair is mostly grey, the ends of his hair managing to retain some of his youthful brown between silver strands. He was dressed casually, his arms and neck peeking out of his clothes to show off the art gallery on his skin he’d been building for decades. His tongue is poking out of his mouth as his wrinkled eyes flicker back and forth between his notes and the table, mouth framed by a modest but maintained beard.

You walk right past him, placing your phone down on a nearby coffee table with the stealth of a well trained rogue. Walking back towards him you put a gentle hand on his shoulder, “hey baby?”

Eddie’s still glued to the map he designed. He holds out a groan of acknowledgment as he moves a few more set pieces around. When he’s finally got the reins on his attention he turns around to look at you. “Yeah sweetheart?”

“Pretend I’m a random girl,” you spit out before launching yourself at Eddie.

Your hands hold his face firmly, ready for him to dash or thrash out of your hold. Leaning into him you deliberately kiss him, pecking his lips and pulling away to catch his reaction.

There’s no running, screaming, or pushing. No snide remarks, or horrified comments pretending to be offended at the hypothetical random woman. No. Instead his brows raise and eyes widen, a grin stretching his lips before his expression softens and his eyes glimmer.

His arms snake around your waist and pull you closer, “woah, hey, don’t stop there! Come ‘ere!”

“No- no Eddie-“ your voice is muffled as your lips are squished together, Eddie eagerly dipping you in his arm and kissing you with the eagerness of a kid in a candy store.

When you find your footing again you slightly push away from him with a laugh, “why’re you making out with a random girl?”

His smirk hasn’t left him as he shrugs innocently. “Cause you’re not a random girl?”

“I just said I was. I said ‘pretend I’m a random girl’ and then I kissed you,” you argue.

His expression finally drops as he quietly says “oh.” Lips pursing and eyes narrowing, his gaze migrates to the wall behind you. When he looks back at you he shrugs nonchalantly, “I didn’t hear that part.”

No, of course he didn’t hear that part, his undiagnosed ass was hyper-fixating. You let out a small huff and gently push him away, “okay well that’s what I said. Let’s try again.”

“Alright, I got it,” he insists with a casual wave of his hand. Eddie clears his throat before putting on a confident walk. He closes the narrow distance between you two with all the swagger he can muster and a playful grin you’re all too used to seeing. “Hey sweetheart, let me get you a-“

“Eddie!” You scold him.

Eddie’s palms raise in the air as he immediately tries to come to his own defense. “What? What’d I do?”

“You’re buying a random girl a drink?”

“I’m buying you a drink!”

You keel over with your hands on your knees, letting out a sound that’s halfway between a wheeze of mirth and a groan of frustration. You snap back up and try again, reeling in your dramatic reaction so he wouldn’t flake out on the video all together. “No, that’s not what I meant-“

“Is this not the role-play scenario you wanted? Pretending to be strangers and shit?” Eddie asked, completely confused.

“No. We’re still together.”

“Then  how are you a random girl?”

You clasp your hands together, taking a deep breath as you try to explain, again,  the context for this video. “How do you act when women flirt with you?”

Eddie snorts, raising a brow at you and settling his hands on his hips. “Sweetheart, women are not flirting with me anymore.”

“Okay fine-“ you sneer, waving your hands in the air to dismiss that prompt. “When women did flirt with you, what did you do?”

“Fuckin’ ignored ‘em,” Eddie stated without a second thought, swiping his hand across his chest like he was physically moving someone out of the way.

You clap your hands together before pointing at him, “okay great! Do that to me!”

Eddie stares at you for a long while, his brows furrow, deepening his crows feet, hands still poised on his hips. You get a little antsy as you know your phone is still recording and you haven’t gotten anything good from him yet.

“… no,” Eddie insists with a whining tone.

“Eddie-“ you groan in defeat.

“I’m not gonna ignore you- that’s stupid! This is stupid- what is this even about? Who is this for?” Eddie insists, annoyed and making damn sure you know it.

Now you know you’ve lost, and any hopes of going viral have been properly squished. You stomp over to your phone, snatching it up and turning it off, sliding it back into your pocket. “It’s a TikTok trend.”

He scoffs back, letting out a gruff laugh and rolling his eyes. “Of course it is. You gotta get off that app, it’s rotting your brain. Half the shit you see is fake.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” you mumble, tired of hearing Eddie’s latest speech about new aged conformity.

He snatches you up before you can walk out the door, snaking his arms around your waist. He leans back against his table while pulling you close to him, his worn face holding the same fresh affection he’s held for you for years. “You don’t need that bullshit to prove my loyalty.”

You accept his words without much reaction, used to his adoration by now. But he’s not satisfied with your neutrality, so he leans down and kisses along your neck. “I fucking adore you,” he mutters against your skin, kissing a little more deliberately on spots you’re sensitive. You ease in his arms, head tilting ever so slightly for him.

He kisses up your neck, pecking your jaw and your cheeks, before happily kissing you again. “Nothing fake about this,” he said softly but with confidence.

You offer him a small smile back, running your hands up his shoulders. “I know. You’re just terrible in front of a camera.”

He laughs back, hands dragging down your sides as you pull away, “yeah I know. I don’t get social media. Kids should just sneak out and get drunk like we used to.”

“Right, cause we turned out so great with that kind of upbringing,” you remark sarcastically, pulling out your phone again.

Eddie chuckles under his breath, turning back to look at his table. He remembers something, looking back at you from over his shoulder, “oh- did you see that video on Facebook? The bunnies jumping on the trampoline?”

You glance up at him, your attention still glued to your phone. “That’s AI.”

He straightens up, face twisting instantly, “no it’s not. It’s someone’s ring-cam footage.”

“Yeah, generated by AI. It’s fake, babe.” You state plainly.

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, struggling to find the words as he doubts his own perception. You give him a quick peck on the cheek before you make a brisk exit, going back to the couch probably in search of a trend Eddie will have a better time grasping.

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

quality art

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

sometimes I think I'm putting too many sex scenes into something . and then I look at what's happening in the world and I'm like oh yeah there's a massive puritan shift and censorship wave happening. why on earth am I feeling guilty for writing self indulgent fanfic lmao. I think I will make the characters do it sloppy AGAIN !!!!!

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

As a certified Billy hater and Eddie’s literal wife, I think people are sleeping on Mungrove

Cause hear me out…

They didn’t run in the same circles. They didn’t have the same friends or go to the same school clubs. But somehow they were never far from each other.

They’d end up at the same parties, Billy revving up the crowd shit-faced while Eddie dealt weed in a quiet corner. They’d wind up at the same bars, Billy schmoozing up some brainless chicks while Eddie excitedly chatted up the band between sets. They’d take smoke breaks in the same abandoned corners of the school, always awkwardly shifting around the other to avoid direct confrontation.

They didn’t talk to one another, they had no individual reason to. In their own minds Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson were nothing alike. Billy was the reigning king of Hawkins, the untouchable bad boy, Hercules in a sea of mortal men. Eddie was the freak, the senior year repeater, the no good trouble maker the whole town would be better off without.

But they moshed to the same local bands, bought the same beer at crowded bars, scrolled in the same music section at the local record store, preferred rough denim and black leather, and drove like goddamn maniacs on the road.

With every similarity that gradually brought the two closer, they found a difference they couldn’t ignore.

Eddie couldn’t understand how popular Billy was. The guy was dismissive, aloof, competitive, short tempered, and got away with everything. What was baffling to him was the heinous wrath Billy kept pent up inside him. It seeped out like steam in a steadily boiling pot. You could see the frays around him unraveling before the threads suddenly snapped and all hell broke loose. He was destructive, and sometimes Eddie believed he was a sadist with how cruel he was to others.

Which made no sense to him, the guy had a whole family! Sure he was a child of divorce, but his dad remarried. He got a second chance to have a family. Eddie never even had one chance to begin with. Despite Billy having both parents and a sibling to boot, he was an asshole. He broke property if he couldn’t get his hands on people first. He tormented everything around him whether it was sentient or not. Eddie couldn’t even cuss under his breath without someone taking offense! Eddie always wondered ‘why does he get to lash out and I don’t?’ ‘Why does he deserve a family and I don’t?’

Billy was just as familiar with Eddie’s reputation. He was a screwup, he lurked in the halls like a creep, and deliberately took time out of his day to be obnoxious. He was usually guarded and not well spoken. He only seemed to be having a good time when making some rebellious fuss or turning his nerd business into everyone’s business. He was wild, rough around the edges, and the smuggest bastard around town.

It took a while for Billy to hear about his predecessor and how Eddie was given all his father’s sins. But there was a quiet voice in Billy’s head that begged to switch places with him. What he would give for his dad to walk out of his life, to have one day where he could come home and not get his face shoved into a wall. He heard rumors Eddie’s mom was dead. To him, dead was more respectable than how his mother left him. But the most offensive part of Eddie was how seemingly unaffected by all of this he was. His smile was still brilliant, his speeches never shortened, he was a consistent nuisance but never lashed out.

All Billy ever did was exude his father’s cruelty onto others. All Eddie ever did was counteract his father’s abandonment with exorbitant acceptance to others. But somehow Billy took the crown and Eddie got the gutter.

It might’ve been the leather and music that tied them together, it might’ve been the drugs and booze that kept their conjoined company entertaining, but it was their differences that solidified their closeness. The fascination of looking into another person and seeing everything you wanted; the permission to be mad, the motivation to be happy. It was the twisted affection of envy that tied them together. Somehow that worked for them. Always on the edge of loathing the other but never really being able to commit to it.

They couldn’t hate each other. They were undoubtedly two sides of the same rigid coin.

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

And THATS how it’s done😤💖💖💖

Time-lapse! I tried to add it to a reblog but Tumblr wouldn't let me do that for some reason lmao

Anyways for those who are interested, I hope you enjoyyy♡♡♡

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬... 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐨...

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 😭😩) 𝐀��𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

LAWD GIMME THIS MAN IN A SNACK SIZE SO I CAN STICK HIM IN MY POCKET AND CARRY HIM AROUND

Also need more Lottie lore NOW😭💖

I'm so normal about him..♡

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

I Drew Malewife #3

was too nervous to draw Caleb and Sylus so I decided on the cookie fiend hehehe ♡

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

modern au Eddie Munson x Alt!Reader

the first time Eddie hears about metalheads not dating alternative girls, he thinks someone is lying to him.

no seriously, refuses to believe that guys like him aren’t also dating girls like you. because in his mind, there’s no other women to date when you listen and like the things he does, it goes hand in hand. so when he makes a joke about having to fight off other metalheads and you brush him off saying “I’m not really their type”, he fucking laughs. legit thinks you are being self conscious and tries to reassure you that you are a smoking hot babe and men would be groveling at your feet if he let them. except, you roll your eyes and say pretty confidently, “no really, I’m not their type.”

Eddie drops it, but it doesn’t really leave his brain, so the next time he practices with the band, he brings it up. he kinda expects them to also laugh it off, say you’ve gone crazy. instead, they get quiet and give him a look. awkwardly, they shoot each other a look, not wanting to be the one to respond first. unfortunately for Garreth, he’s the first to break the ice.

“Eddie, have you never noticed??” Garreth asks, a little taken aback that Eddie is now questioning this.

that night, Eddie spends most of his night ignoring homework and looking over all his favorite bands and who they date. and wouldn’t you know it, everyone else was right. he sees playboy bunnies and those same girls who never gave him the time of the day in high school cuddled up to his favorite bands.

from that point on, he starts to notice the other bands he’s played with on Instagram and their girlfriends. and 9 times outta ten, they are dating some girl who definitely doesn’t look like she listens to metal, and a quick look at her page confirms that everytime. he starts to feel like a crazy person going through all these profiles, lowkey stalking these pages.

so the next time he sees you, he basically beat hugs you and traps you in bed. can’t stop apologizing that metal heads are apparently stupid and you waited so long for your Prince Charming to come, which makes you laugh and cringe at his wording.

“its fine, us alternative girls aren’t completely ignored.” You joke, giving him a teasing smile.

“wait, what?” Eddie says, now seeing the first layer of the onion beginning to peel back before him.

“Blue collar boys go crazy for girls like me.”

and just like that, you opened up a can of worms. Eddie doesn’t have to worry about another metal head stealing his girl, but instead some nice mechanic stealing you or a carpenter flirting with you.

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

Kpop Demon Hunters OC

Y’all remember the hunters from the 20s? Yeah. I couldn’t forget about them. So this is the villain I made for them Joo-won, she is a Kumiho, this took ages🥰🥰

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

Allie my love you’re crashing out in 4K have a snickers😭😭

Anyways- love this chapter, it’s so messy👀💅

A Freak and A Basket Case— The Seven Inches of Satanic Panic Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

[ Click here for “Sounds From A Freak and A Basket Case” ]

God bless my beta readers for this chapter: @writhingg , @theold-ultraviolence , @mothmans-left-buttcheek , @lornadoones-and-earlgreytea , @rxqueenotd , and @melodymunson . Thank you for putting up with my waffling and for watching me go off the shits.

This is hours of me plugging along trying to make sense of what monster I have created. I also wanted to make a character that who is, in moments of extreme stress and trauma, objectively horrible and mean. I had to break the cycle of having a perfectly innocent and justified character.

Tag List: @melodymunson @writhingg @jozstankovich @rxqueenotd @i-trash-about-things @ali-r3n @somnambulic-thing @mothmans-left-buttcheek @theold-ultraviolence @writinginthetwilight @lexr86

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses), references to the film “Deliverance”, mentions of homophobia and homophobic slurs, period typical sexism, suicide ideation, recreational drug use, hurt/comfort, angst, smut themes, mentions of sexual harassment

Word Count: 7,668

[Previous Chapter] — [Master List] — [Next Chapter]

Chapter Four — Better Be Good to Me

“ Yes, I know you keep telling me that you love me.

And I really do wanna believe.

But did you think I'd just accept you in blind faith?

Oh sure babe, anything to please you… ”

“Mira, look who it is! Ahí esta Alejandreener!”

Fuck…! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Alejandra was trying to be subtle, to come in without a trace. Busting a mission to make it into the house without someone in the room smelling pot, or seeing her receding eyes. She didn’t want to deal with anyone’s bullshit tonight. There was already enough on her plate as it was. All she wanted at this point in time, was to come home to an empty house and break down sobbing.

Too many overwhelming feelings and intrusive impulses were scrambling her masking, and linear thought trains were derailed from their regularly scheduled routes.

There was a pain in her hand, and she couldn’t stop rubbing it. One hundred percent of all coherent thought was pushed out of her zooted mind because of her palm, and the pot.

Unlike before, she couldn’t summon her pretty grounding thoughts.

No more mental pictures of bedtime apple tea by a fireside hearth, with all the curtains open in a rural Appalachian cabin. No being nestled in a hazel shrub overlooking a loch— the loch— and watching a snakelike head rise from the water. And certainly no starlit image of wandering the desert at the witching hour, armed with only a pair of binoculars and a tinfoil hat. That way, at least the aliens couldn’t steal her memories while they probed her ass.

Try as she might, she could not summon one pretty fantasy to chase away the misery. The pain in her hand and her heart was too much.

Typical with her luck with fate. And, let’s be honest, fate was a cruel bitch from the get go.

Scruffy and Tiffany blew her cover the moment they heard the key turn in the lock of the doorknob. Two dogs with voices contradicting their sizes came tearing down the hallway to the door, barking as if she was an intruder they intended to tear into pieces.

Of course if the dogs were back inside, and not in the dog run at four PM on a Tuesday afternoon, that meant only one thing:

Jaime hadn’t yet left for his shift working security at the Hawkins Water Utility Building…

Fucking shit…

“Shut up, huevón.” She snapped quickly, sucking on her palm. “Sitting there on the couch, picking your ass… Don’t you got work?”

“I do, cabrona bitch. I got an hour before my shift starts.”

Jaime Luiz, anglicized for the people of Hawkins as “James” (and henceforth Jamie), was seated like a king on the family’s ratty, mustard yellow couch in the living room. A diminutive ruler with tawny skin, slicked back hair in shoe polish black, a blue button down shirt with cut crease slacks, and a bad porn-stache he’d been growing since middle school.

Because nobody stayed home during the day to heat up dinner for him, a bag of cheese Ruffles was torn open and laying haphazardly on his lap. Balancing precariously on his knee was an ashtray, and a small can of Frito brand dip.

Miasma was in the air. Alejandra nearly choked on the cloud from the clove cigarettes he’d been chain smoking, and she hoped the sickly sweet stench would drown out the acrid smell of pot.

Jaime turned away from the television to look up at her, evidently Alejandra’s homecoming was a touch more interesting than the music video playing on MTV. ‘We Don’t Need Another Hero’ was blasting at full volume. Not even Tina Turner’s wild blonde halo, metallic bronze lips, nor her golden chain mail draped across her athletic body were able to recapture Jaime’s attention.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“School.” Alejandra immediately replied, looking away from him.

“This late? Thought you get out at like three? It don’t take that long to walk over… here…”

When she heard her brother sniff, she booked it.

FUCK!

With her yapping shih tzu hot on her heels, Alejandra finally made her way to her bedroom and shut the door. Kicking a couple boxes in front for good measure, she began to strip.

Lucky for her there was sanctuary: a door leading to an oasis of an avocado green bathroom that she did not have to share. So instead of stewing in the stench of longbottom leaf, there was always the option to shower off the incriminating smell. Eddie’s deodorant and the reefer were marinating with other equally embarrassing odors, and she’d rather lather it off now with liberal amounts of Zest, and Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific before Jamie had any further suspicions.

Carhartt jacket flying into an inconspicuous corner of the open closet along with her backpack, she narrowly missed three full milk crates of vinyls in the process.

Fuck… well… at least she made the shot and didn’t break anything. Twenty points.

After smoothing out her hair, spraying a bit of Love’s Fresh Lemon in the air, and unlacing her chucks, she was just about to go into the connected bathroom to turn on the hot water, when she heard the jimmying of the lock, and then the creak of the door opening.

“So how’d it go?”

A growl left her throat.

As usual. No boundaries in her own fucking house. White kids got a polite knock, and their parents allowed them to bestow permission for anyone to enter. In this Hispanic ass house, knocking was a courtesy that only dad adhered to. Mom did not care what you were doing before deciding to walk in— and inevitably used the time to scold her daughter’s indecency, even if she was just trying to undress for the evening in the privacy of her room.

Jaime had even more fucked up logic. Arguing that he paid half the bills, therefore he was the man, ergo: no space was private if he wished to enter. Jaime ran the same gamut in New Mexico, it was not going to change in Hawkins.

“Shit.” Alejandra said, after a minute of gathering her thoughts, “Pure shit. Tired of dealing with people.”

“Yeah? What’re they saying— ewwww, Dreener! You still have all your roña everywhere…!”

Jamie kicked at a cardboard box, and sat down on her bedspread. Tawny arms crossed over his chest as he watched her gather pajamas. Luckily she still had her dress and cardigan on, otherwise she wouldn’t be entertaining a conversation. A black shirt with fading patches of gray that used to be purple— before she got a hold of it with the fabric dye— and bright pink dolphin shorts were slung over her shoulder as she dodged boxes.

“The usual. You know how the gringos are.” Alejandra said.

“You gotta be careful when you’re dealing with that shit, man.” Jamie said immediately. “You know how it is; they don’t like us here, but if you keep it cool you can coast on by. Just keep it straight and don’t make waves, esa.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it could change though.” Alejandra said, nibbling on her palm’s hurt-spot.

“It won’t… people will always start shit.” Jamie sighed. “Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. Whose cologne you wearing?”

“Excuse me?!”

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he sniffed. “You smell like Old Spice, and mota. And you’re walking around all ondeada.”

“Who the hell has you smelling me, cochino!” Alejandra said, avoiding turning around so he wouldn’t see her watering red eyes.

But Jamie was up and off the bed like lightning, so close she could have turned around and slapped his grin right off his face. He had his hands on her shoulders, shaking them slightly as he tried to get Alejandra to turn around.

“Pinche morra, don’t get mad at me! You’re the one all coming home smelling like a skunk’s ass. A la ve, your eyes are all fuckin’ red too!”

“Get the fuck away from me, bro!” She couldn’t help the nervous pot giggles. Too high to even try and deny it as she shoved her brother away.

“Looks like a fuckin’ red rocket!” He laughed.

“You are fucking cochino, get the hell out of my room!”

“Come on, Dreener. Who gave you mota?” He laughed.

“Oh my god…” she sighed, “If I tell you, will you leave me the fuck alone?!”

“Swear to God, I’ll stop bothering you.”

“… my boyfriend smoked with me…”

You could have heard the record screech in real time. Certainly, she heard her brother’s neck pop when he whipped back to look at her.

“Wha-… huh?!” He exclaimed.

Shyly, she began chewing on her cardigan sleeve. A gap tooth smile on her face as she looked down at the floor.

“… I kinda, maybe, just a little bit… might have a boyfriend now.”

“En Serio?”

Jamie’s face dropped, his mouth hanging open as he searched Alejandra’s face for the ‘gotcha’ moment that would never come.

“This isn’t like a prank, is it?”

“Nah uh, en serio bro.” She laughed.

It was so worth it seeing Jamie’s smug demeanor drop into one of pure shock, almost awe.

“Oowee, and who’s the poor dude you had to tie up in a basement?” Jamie asked.

“You don’t need to know, fucking annoying ass entrometido!” She yelled, “Jesus, you’re all fucking nosey!”

Jamie dodged before she bent to the side, the sock she pulled off her foot flew weakly at her brother. The hit didn’t land, and Jaime laughed at Alejandra’s poor aim and at the way she teetered unsteadily on her feet. One foot criss-crossed-applesauced the other, and she yelped when she had to use the pain hand to hold herself up on the doorframe.

“Calm your tetas, Dreener! A la...” He laughed, “So… what… is this vato a big nerd like you or what?”

How could she even deny it at this point? Eddie could pull more fantasy facts out of his ass— even while high— than she ever could sober.

“Yeah… Yeah he is. He’s into fantasy.” Alejandra replied.

“Of course he is… What’s the nerd’s name?”

“Eddie. His Name is Eddie.”

Jamie frowned slightly.

“Eddie? He’s a little gringito, or what?” Jamie asked.

“No shit, Sherlock. He likes Dungeons and Dragons, and the Lord of the Rings, and Dune, and music…”

“And he’s apparently a pothead who gave you ditch weed.” Jaime said, sniffing the air, “Puro stems and shit.”

“And you’re the only one who could tell the difference, fucking marihuano!” She shot back.

“Hey, I don’t smoke that much!” He cried, “I ain’t even smoked since we got here…!”

He wouldn’t ever admit it.

Never owning up to being called on the carpet like a man.

Her brother could strut his shit around everyone like he was god emperor. Pointing and laughing at the flaws of plebeians, excluding those who did not serve him, but admitting his own shortcomings was not his strong suit. But that was life in the Perea family.

That was life in la raza too, yet not one person wanted to admit it. You hid the weakest points of your life under a mask of bravado, whether or not you were a man or a woman. All because the insults and judgement from the white community were nothing in comparison to the dressing down you got from within the confines of your own safe circle.

White people could lob their uncreative, overused slurs and you could laugh at it and walk away. Your own people could hit highly specific insecurities, and make you want to die.

And Alejandra was no stranger to being picked apart for niche insecurity.

“Bullshit! I could smell it in your room the first week we came to Hawkins, fuckin’ liar. I know you didn’t have any on you when we left New Mexico. So you had to have gotten it here.” She shot back.

“Okay whatever, so I found a guy…” he admitted, face turning red. “At least I don’t walk around the damn house reeking of it, along with some dude’s cologne— toda puta— like you!”

“No, because you just walk around smelling like a fucking stereotype: Tres Flores and Tecate. El Mas Chingon my fucking asshole, fucking mocho ass loser.”

Jamie barked out laughter at that one, his easygoing demeanor only serving to piss Alejandra off even more. It was like she was a tiny poodle barking at a Doberman. Immediately Jamie tried redirecting the anger when she opened her mouth again.

“It could be worse, pendeja. I could smell like that weird kid on our street back in Albuquerque, remember the weird one? He always smelled like sobaco, the shit was his name…” he put a finger to his lips, trying to remember.

Alejandra knew immediately the face but not the name of who he was talking about, even high she wouldn’t forget the people back home. Even the worst of the worst from Los Alamos— or even Taos— were worth ten of the people here in Hawkins.

“Oh fuck!” She laughed. “What the hell was his name… FUCKING RAYMOND!”

“Raymundo!” Jamie laughed. “Fucking Raymond, man… Can we at least agree that we both smell better than that torcido?”

“Whatever, bitch…” she laughed. “What the fuck made you think of him?”

“The Old Spice your vato got all over you. Raymond tried using it once. Thought it would cover up the pit smell when the homegirls in Hernandez gave him shit.” Jaime laughed. “Goddamn, I hope Eddie isn’t as lame as Raymond, is he? Raymond was into all that dragons bullshit.”

“Oh hell no, bro.” Alejandra grinned, taking her pajamas into the bathroom and dropping them on the countertop over her Gillette Supermax, “Eddie’s the real deal, vato. He’s a metalhead... muy chingón.”

Jamie mock whistled, clearly unimpressed.

“Eeee… So if he’s a metalhead, does he have like, all the long hair, leather jackets and all that bullshit?” Jamie asked.

While her brother appreciated metal music, he still had the typical machismo mentality. Long hair and tight leather pants were for girls, and any metathead he saw in public was branded más puto for life by him and his friends.

Since the late 1970’s, no wannabe Dave Mustaine, or off-brand Blackie Lawless that lived in New Mexico, could eat a phallic shaped food without having flashbacks to Jaime Luis Perea and five other guys screaming “CHUPA” from the bed of an ancient pickup.

When it came down to it, Jaime was no better than the preps and the jocks. Maybe even worse. He hounded and pushed buttons with anyone who deviated from his highly specific standards of normal. Just by the tone of whistle, Alejandra could already hear the homophobic insults he was thinking about Eddie in his head.

“He’s not gonna wear a fucking leather jacket in this heat, you idiot.” She said, “But he does have a battle vest he made himself. And he’s got the ripped jeans, the rings… He even plays in a band that almost got a record deal and everything!”

“Oh my Jesus… What’s the name of the band?” Jaime asked.

“Corroded Coffin.”

“… Corroded Coffin?”

Jamie looked genuinely confused, before he burst out laughing.

“Corroded Coffin?! The hell kind of name is that joto shit?”

“Shut up, asshole!” Alejandra screeched, “You just don’t get the genius behind the name; it’s metal as fuck! Dare I say gothic as hell too! Just perfect for me, you know how I’ve always wanted to be like dark and mysterious like Barnabas and Josette—…”

He laughed even harder.

It was just like him. Laughing at anything remotely creative. To Jaime, unless your name was Robert Plant, Bobby Womack, James (or Bobby) Purify, Eric Clapton, or Tina Turner, everything you did was stupid. Typical bullshit sibling banter, but the way he was so dismissive of Eddie, and the fact that Eddie himself was also a victim of bullying, made Alejandra angry and defensive.

“Dios mío… you’re perfect for him then, Drácula.” He laughed, “Always wearing black, like you’re at a fucking funeral.”

“Simón! We’re so goddamn perfect together it hurts! He’s my Paul, I’m his Chani. I’m his Leia, he’s my Han. He’s my Alan, I’m his Madison…” she rattled off names of every couple she could think of in the media she consumed, from conventional Romeo and Juliet answers, to the more obscure. At one point even throwing a Jim Henson couple in there, but she stopped because she couldn’t decide if Eddie was more like Jen or Kermit.

After a while, when the reefer made her forget what she was saying in the first place, Alejandra turned to see Jamie with his cheeks puffed out. Clearly trying not to just burst out again laughing in his sister’s face.

“… You’re such a fucking weirdo.” He said, voice strained.

“Oh, shut up and leave me alone!”

He did laugh at that, and it took everything in her not to beat the crap out of him.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry.” He wheezed, “Sorry!”

There was silence for a beat. The two staring each other down. Alejandra didn’t know what to say anymore, and neither did her brother. Surprising. Considering he usually had half a dozen clever insults and heckles on his person like multiple concealed carry arms. She was about to just kick him out of her room when he finally spoke up again.

“You sure you’re not rushing into this?” Jaime asked gently.

“Hey, I can go as fast or slow as I want.” She snapped, “Eddie said relationships don’t have rules. We can go at our own pace. Whatever feels right to us. And it feels right to jump on the chance before someone else gets to him.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid, dude.” He said, leaning back into the wall as he propped up his feet on the bedspread, “Otherwise you’re gonna get hurt, and you’re gonna get knocked up-…”

“A la verga, bro! What the hell do you think? I know I sound desperate, but I’m not that goddamn desperate to get knocked up to keep him.” Alejandra whined.

“You’re already jumping into this shit way too fast, Dreener. You’ve known him what, like a day? I don’t know how many times I’ve seen this shit happen: girls meeting guys and think they’re in love. Then the next thing— sas—she’s popping out a kid in nine months. Don’t think for a second that you’ll be any different.”

“I know I’m different.” She growled, the irritation coming back full force. “I know I’m different… Eddie said I was, and everyone else knows I’m different too...”

“You’re still just as vulnerable as any other girl. If you fall for bullshit so easily, you’ll end up all fucked up in the end. Just be careful with this Eddie guy, okay? He’s some virgin nerd. You don’t know what he’s after-…”

“… he’s not a virgin…” she said softly.

Jamie paused his rant, looking up at her wide eyed.

“What?! You… how the shit do you know that?!” He demanded.

Stubby fingertips grazed the pain mark on her palm. A neat little pin prick on the meat. Her nails flick, flicked, against the mark.

Self soothing, or self harm. The difference wasn’t apparent.

“He told me…” she mumbled.

“… how many girls has he been with?”

He leaned forward, waiting for an answer. The world stopped spinning on its axis for a minute.

The feelings were bubbling and frothing in her stomach, hurting her physically from the shock in taking in the van revelations. At first, she had been too high to understand what Eddie was saying when he started talking about the girls who wanted to ‘get with the freak’. There were a lot of names… evidently even nerds got more ass than a toilet seat.

Eddie was high-yammering, like a Walkman with a broken pause button.

Blabbering out names like Cindy, Kimberly, Nicole, Jessica…

“He said he had an ex that he did it with all the time in his van…” she admitted, “And that there were a couple girls at the high school that wanted to do it with him on a dare.”

Generic, faceless, mean and terrible girls got to have a turn in Eddie’s van. All kinds of girls. Girls that wanted to be corrupted by a weirdo, and have their dirty pillows touched.

Whether it be road head for a little extra reefer, or getting fingered by the freak on a dare, Eddie counted it all as sex. And then he started on about what they looked like… Every detail of their features he found attractive, the body parts he could still recall even while on substances, each was a poison.

“Chingao…” Jaime breathed, “Have you guys…”

“NO! No… no he…”

After doing the tongue thing, the two had hit at least third base at Lover’s Lake.

Climaxing at the same time, through two layers of clothes: nylon tights and denim, grinding in the van until there was an embarrassing wet spot blooming directly on the fly of Eddie’s ripped up jeans.

He came, Alejandra came, and it had been the first time she had been so goddamned careless. Without thinking, she had opened her legs to him for more, and he’d stopped her short. Pressing her knees closed.

“No, no. Sorry lamb chop. Normally I would, but not this time…”

“He said he didn’t wanna do it like that in the van while we were too high out of our minds…” she replied, recalling the way he’d almost withdrawn completely away, “He said it wasn’t the right thing to do if we tried to do it stoned. He said if something happened he wanted us to be sober, for it to be special…”

“Well… at least he wanted it to be different…” Jamie admitted.

What difference did it make if it was different, or the right thing to do?

She was already bitter and moody about it, feeling rejected and all types of ways about how this impromptu date had gone down. And that wasn’t the only thing she was bitter about…

“I won’t fall for his bullshit. I won’t get knocked up because… ugh… Because I’m so fucking pissed, bro…” she growled.

“Why?” Jamie asked.

“Because he didn’t fucking wait!”

Alejandra kicked her wicker laundry hamper, pouting and stomping like a petulant, spoiled brat.

Fuck the box that the Reverend Mother had for Paul’s hand. The entire van had been a box. Charring Alejandra alive with her own anger and jealousy, and she knew when Eddie had dropped her off that outwardly she would appear unscathed.

“Fucking cochino ass vatos, bro! Just going along with whoever shows a passing fancy, instead of waiting for someone to show up who really cares… Why… why didn’t…”

But like Paul, she would be forever changed by the pain. A constant reminder would linger, a phantom of the hurt, and her heart knew that from here on she had been conditioned to hate and scorn every woman who so much as looked upon Eddie The Freak with some kind of desire semblance.

The more he had rambled on about his previous little sticky fumblings in the van, the angrier Alejandra got.

And then, he had to go and mention Paige.

What the fuck was that about?!

Paige Warner had been a whole grown up, with a career and everything. Apparently she signed on bands for record deals, even though it honestly sounded like she was shit at her job. Eddie wasn’t shy about details. From the sound of it, his ex had never signed on not one single band for a booming career— yet in the moonlight she had a great ass when her dark wash Wranglers came off.

Alejandra had been on her back, legs spread as Eddie carefully removed her wet tights, and she was pinned like a butterfly to cork as he continued high-yammering about how doing this for her reminded him of how Paige would make him maintain eye contact as he mopped up her cum from her legs.

When Alejandra moved over to the other side of the van’s bench seat, and felt something pierce the skin of her palm, of course the cause had been a bauble belonging to Paige.

“Oh God, Bev was right…” Eddie had laughed, “Paige really did have stupid earrings. Look at all these pokey parts, you probably need a tetanus shot after that shit. I’m so glad you don’t wear earrings like she did. Even if they did make her look like a badass, they’re kind of obnoxious in retrospect.”

And again, Alejandra kept quiet as Eddie continued talking to himself.

The more he talked about Perfect Paige Warner, the more it burned Alejandra’s ass.

“Why didn’t that dumbass wait for me?!”

The tears began. She sobbed, unable to contain the hurt. A dam burst in her heart. A goddamn-metric-fuckton of sadness and self loathing was the only balm that soothed the burn of the pain-box.

Staying trapped in the van had made her sick. And because Eddie was her ride, she had to sit there and take it all in.

Luckily by that time the ditch weed had begun to work magic. Once her eyes began to wander, Alejandra found a focal point and zoned out during Eddie’s rambling about how this new, scary thing that was starting between them was special and different. Even though she preened for praise, she didn’t truly listen when Eddie said he wanted things to be better than what he hoped for with his ex. He kept saying he did not want to taint what had bloomed now with his own miserable fuck ups.

Eddie wanted something tangible. Something real. Big emphasis on wanting that reality with Alejandra, and nobody else.

But because he interspersed his desires with dirty details about what went on in the van, his words were just that. Empty and without substance. A vanity cake dusted with powdered sugar and honey, full of nothing but hot air when you took a bite.

“He shouldn’t have wasted himself on someone like that… Not on some stupid bitch who didn’t even go to him in his hour of need! Not on some stupid whore with stupid earrings, a stupid job she wasn’t even no good at, and a fake personality she only used to lure Eddie in, so she can be like all the other stupid girls who hog all the good looking boys away from those who would really truly and honestly love them—…!”

Jamie began to laugh.

It was ugly.

It was unchecked.

It totally invalidated everything she felt about the situation, and painted her the exact color of crazy everyone always thought she was.

Regardless, her brother began to howl.

“En serio?!” He exclaimed, choking on a guffaw, “Dude! You expected him to save himself for you?! You don’t own this guy, he had a life before you. You’re just all fucking jealous!”

“Shut the fuck up, cabrón! No I’m not!” Alejandra cried.

“You are!” He laughed, pointing at her bright red face, “Holy shit! You’re jealous of girls that ain’t even in the picture anymore! You’re fucking crazy, fool!”

Hold it back… hold it in… don’t go for him unchecked…

Should she give into temptation now, Alejandra was coherent enough that she knew: if Jaime’s balled up fist did not lay her ass out on the floor, her own two feet would do the work instead. A singular reckless attack would only make her brother’s mocking even worse. And quite possibly, cost her a few teeth.

“It’s not fucking funny!” She whined, “It’s not funny, pinche cabrón… Eddie’s… he’s the only guy that’s ever paid any attention to me! He’s perfect for me… I’m perfect for him! Why couldn’t he just wait and hope that there was someone perfect for him out there, that I was out there…?”

“Because that ain’t how shit works, Dreener.”

Dark eyes surveyed her seriously. Jamie was sat ramrod straight, hands held out before him. An attempt to speak to her jealousy directly, to quell its fury.

“Eddie’s his own man, Dreener. He’s got his own needs and wants outside of you. He’s got a life beyond you. You can’t expect someone to just sit there with their thumb up their ass, waiting for life to pass them by. A la chingada, mujer. You’re already all fucked up getting hung up on the what ifs…”

Jamie paused, as if thinking carefully. But because he usually just dolled out pure unfiltered shit talk no matter who was in front of him— the pope, the president, their grandmother— he continued.

“And for reals, dude? You got some ass backwards way of thinking.”

“But…”

He held up a hand to quiet her. A quiet ‘shut the fuck up, a man is speaking’.

“Do you even hear yourself when you’re talking out your ass?” He asked, “I know you’re high right now, but goddamn dude. You are fucking crazy, fool. You’re like, basically making this relationship into like a— como se llama…? Like this dude is fuckin’… an object or bullshit. That ain’t how real love works. You can’t get all worked up about shit because your panocha isn’t the only one he’s ever stuck his dick into.”

The vulgarity stopped her in her tracks. Her words stumbled over one another as they came out of her mouth.

“But… but it’s not fair, because I wouldn’t have treated him like the other girls did…” she tried to defend herself, “I… I’m not a bitch like Paige… She— she didn’t even do her job right, or even make Eddie famous!”

Apples and oranges. Paige’s name would never be in magazines like the guy who made the exploding guitars for KISS, but regardless, there was one glaring factoid that set her apart from the rest:

The woman had a career.

Someone had looked over her resume, decided she was the best fit for the company, and actually paid money to hire her for a full time work position. Some Bozo had really kept her on the payroll, even though Eddie couldn’t name one band she had successfully given a shot. Not even Little Miss Perfect Paige managed to sign on Eddie for a promising solo career, but he admitted to Alejandra that the whole thing was his own fuck up.

Yet the career, the paycheck, and the ability to wire a three thousand dollar bail bond, was far more than Alejandra, who never worked a day in her life— not even for chore money— had ever done.

“Dreener, who cares?! You ain’t better than whoever fuckin’ Paige or Patty or whoever-the-fuck is, just because you say you’re not a bitch— but let’s be real dude, you are a bitch. You don’t know those girls, nor do you know even what went down between them and Eddie, and that ain’t your fuckin’ business. Just because you made that choice to stay ‘pure’ or whatever, that don’t mean you get to strut your shit and act like you’re all better than everyone else—…”

“BUT I DIDN’T GET THAT CHOICE!”

Alejandra was at the breaking point. No one gave Alejandra Juanita Perea a choice to decide who she wanted to give herself to. The decision was made for her. Like a little nun, everyone decided she should be cloistered away and remain unshared, but god knew there were plenty of guys back in New Mexico who she would have shared everything with.

Fuck Jaime. Fuck him!

“That’s a fucking crock of shit…” she hissed, “I didn’t get that choice to save myself for someone! Everyone else made it for me because no one fucking…”

Her own brother didn’t know her. She realized then and there: Jamie didn’t know her, nor did he even want to understand how she felt about all of these overwhelming emotions. Alejandra was not as prudish as everyone believed her to be.

Frankly, the thought of doing the Dirty Sex had always thrilled and excited her. She was no Mother Mary. Like a majority of the population she felt the same bouts of heat and pleasure-flush everybody else did. And the Dirty Sex was the big thing she wanted to try. It was special attention that was exclusive to the individual, and Jesus Christ did she want special attention. Any kind of attention really.

Mom believed in all that bullshit purity. Save yourself for missionary with lights off after marriage.

Fuck that, Alejandra thought, she had wanted romance and hot fucks, bent over and dicked down in a cave just like Ayla and Jondalar did in The Valley of Horses.

It had come on pretty quickly. Alejandra had once found her brother’s copy of Valley of the Dolls in a more innocent time and discovered that actually, the messy exploits of Anne, Neely and Jennifer were just the pepperup potion she needed for the nights when her aching loneliness was too much to handle.

Judy Blume had nothing on Jacqueline Susann. How could you go back to Deenie or Blubber, when you had books about a dude’s dingle flapping in the breeze and bombshell babes who massaged the inner corners of their thighs?

So in those vulnerable moments of awkwardly awakening her more sexual thoughts and feelings, when she thought Tony Polar and Jennifer North were the pinnacle of true romance right behind Duke Leto and Lady Jessica, she began the hunt to find someone to share these love-feelings with. Her adolescence in the seventies was a perpetual summer of love.

Now? She felt only hate.

Pure, blazing hatred.

Tiny fists knocked against the green, mid-century mod wallpaper. Ineffectual, and not even enough to scuff the geometric pattern. The sound was more of a pulse. A beat to set the music of her anger.

“Eddie got a choice to do it with someone… Those girls he did it with got a choice to do it with someone. I didn’t get no fucking choice to do it with someone because…! No one… no body even fucking wanted to…”

It’s too goddamned much.

Too fucking much to think about.

Her mind was a whirlpool, Charybdis incarnate as she was pulled in twenty different emotional directions.

There were a lot of guys she projected a fantasy onto. Each one was a clone of an idea: some Prince Charming who didn’t exist and perhaps never would. Did the men she fell for fit into the dark, brooding, messiah narrative that she lusted for?

Probably not, if she was honest.

None of them probably even came close to being a carbon copy of her then fictional crush: Paul Atreides, who didn’t even exist— and who had a true love anyway— and even he neglected his legal wife for his true love, too.

Where was her Paul Usul Muad’dib Atreides among these men?

The list of prerequisites was endless. Comprised of qualities Alejandra naively believed a lover should have.

A perfect man, according to her, should have a smattering of this and that: someone who could share her passion in music, someone she related to culturally, a lover of books, someone who lived with their head in the clouds as much as she did, those who had a zest for life and living that she had lost…

For the most part they remained faceless. Occasionally, they had some quality Alejandra had projected onto them. If you squinted in the low light, they might have had some tiny resemblance to the picture she painted of her ideal man. But this was reality, and at the end of the day, real men left her wanting.

They were imperfect beings. Laden with heavy yokes. Teenage alcoholism, short tempers, crippling addictions to pills or casual sex. Any kind of problem one could think of.

But still, she tried to reach out and love them.

She tried so hard to give every single one of them a fair shot. To find out if there was yet a Paul out there who would choose an Alejandra over a Chani. Everyone deserved a chance, she thought, and yet as much as she tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, not a one of the guys she selected extended that same courtesy back.

The results were the same: they’d look her up and down, and then make the decision. A resounding no.

They looked at her. Little Alejandra Perea: jabbering nonstop about books, while dressed in baggy black clothes and an oversized jacket, at least five sizes too big to hide her gangly body that had disproportionate features in all the wrong places. In sixth grade, all the girls hadn’t yet filled out, and they would laugh when Alejandra had shown up to school without a coat or a sweater to cover up.

Because at eleven when puberty hit her like a train, her tits were embarrassingly uneven, like sagging water balloons that practically fell in her lap when she sat at her school desk. Mom wouldn’t buy her a real bra until she turned twelve, and it was just too embarrassing to have boob sweat stains at the bottom of her shirt. And even then, it was all the more embarrassing being turned away from JCPenny and Mervyn’s because they didn’t carry the bigger sizes that she needed at such a young age.

Pretty dresses wouldn’t fit on her awkward frame, so mom had to make them for her. Everyone teased her. Laughed at her. Said such horrid and hateful things. Developing early didn’t mean anything good in the real world, all it meant was that she had become a bigger target for negative attention.

Maybe her classmates were all too young to understand such complex emotions… Maybe, everyone back home was far too naive and ignorant to know quite how to love a love starved little girl. Because when she tried to share her love with people, they all thought the same thing: not a fucking chance in hell.

No matter how hard she tried to understand why there was so much resounding rejection, she never could quite figure it out. All she knew was she was nothing to them. She was little more than furniture. A shy wallflower. That one weird girl with even weirder obsessions, and a weird overdeveloped body that didn’t match with everyone else.

And if she went scrambling after someone, trying to be a Chani to attract a Paul, the boys always spoke down to her. Harassed her. Taunted her. Snapped her bra straps and ran away, but she didn’t understand why they did it. She felt as stupid as everyone said she was.

Everyone always thought she was a slow minded, child-like freak.

But not Eddie…

You think you’re the only one in this van that does weird, out there shit?

Eddie had grabbed her by the backpack. Staked his claim on her. Stolen her from Hawkins High like a bundle of contraband…

He saw the woman Alejandra, not the little girl.

We’re both weird.

The two of them could throw Dune references at one another without stopping, and he’d listen eagerly to her talk about the other books she had read. Not once did Eddie Munson ever judge her, or call her a fucking child.

Instead, he did the Pee-Wee Herman laugh for her because she liked it. He asked her what the craziest thing was she’d ever read in a sci-fi book.

Only one other person in the world wanted to know these things about her, about the things she cared for, and that man was not in Hawkins, Indiana.

We’re both freaks…

Eddie said he would lend Alejandra his copies of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, because she had never read those books before. Then he said something about how their blossoming connection would be told at campfires by halflings, a romance saga to rival that of Beren and Lúthien.

He said he would always be there for her, a Sam Gamgee to her Frodo, that would carry her pig-a-back when she couldn’t walk a single step further through the burning mountains of despair and Doom.

Alejandra wanted to get to that part of the books to confirm if this was a good thing or not. The way he spoke about devotion in terms of characters, it was just like what she did all the time.

I don't care if you're weird.

She wanted to know everything about him and share his inside references. She wanted to meld their bodies together, for her mitochondria to be friends to lovers with his mitochondria.

She wanted to be one body, one soul. To fit in the empty space between his ribcage, to feel the warm affection that lived there…

I like it.

Eddie taught her to do the tongue thing, with an asserted promise of teaching her so much more.

He let her grind on him to orgasm. He let her have an orgasm, and then even had one with her. Because of her.

I like you…

“Get the fuck out of my room.” Alejandra said, sotto voce, to her brother.

“Hey, wait a minute-…”

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…

“Get. Out. Of. My. Room.” Alejandra hissed.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

“Dreener, listen-…”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

I will face my fear…

She didn’t wait to hear his sputtering protests. She didn’t want to hear his bullshit.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

In fact, she wanted everyone to stop talking to her right the fuck now.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path…

With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Alejandra shoved Jamie as hard as she could out of her room, slamming the door behind him and locking it deftly before turning on her record player so loud it set off the barking of the dogs. In an attempt to make him give up and go away rather than try to jimmy the lock again, she held the doorknob in place, sinking to the floor with her full weight against the door. Her pain hand throbbed and thrummed with the sting of Paige Warner’s earring, but she didn’t care about it anymore.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain…

The choice of record wasn’t the angsty anthem she wanted, but No Jacket Required opened immediately with the punchy percussions in Sussudio, and it did good to drown out her brother’s persistent banging. Even if that was the one song that still skipped every goddamn time on the album. Alejandra didn’t care. She’d blast Phil Collins from dusk to dawn, until everyone on Cherry Street knew the lyrics by heart without having to read the inside of the sleeve.

Jaime was a bastard. Jamie didn’t know shit from fuck. No one did…

They didn’t get it. They were all just fine. Going through their mundane lives like nothing was wrong, when everything in the entire fucking whole goddamned world was wrong.

Everyone lived their lives, fucked, ate, shit, and everything was all peaches and cream. In no uncertain terms could she even begin to tackle this problem the way she wanted. And she wanted very much to take that shitty van that Eddie Munson drove, and solve all of her problems bowling-ball style. Every motherfucking grievance lined up like a pin in a lane— then BLAM! Ya no more, motherfucker.

If she could have used The Voice to help herself get over this pain, or time travel back to the year before Eddie had been taken for a ride and her world went to hell, she would have done it then. But it was not to be.

Because the world wasn’t like how it was in books.

The world was messy and complicated and stupid…

And it just wasn’t goddamned fair.

Deep down in that pit of her stomach, where the dull throb hurt the most, Alejandra knew she deserved this pain.

Side quests were forbidden, and yet like a dumb asshole, she couldn’t stop seeking them out. By allowing herself to forget her mission, straying away from task, being punished in this way was just what she had to deal with. Once before, she had told herself that trying to find love anymore was just a stupid tchotchke in the jumble sale of life.

A hardened Bene Gesserit woman needed nobody and nothing in this world. Alia of The Knife never needed anyone to love her, and look how successful she’d been: a political assassin at age four. Ayla, the Woman Who Hunts, left her kid and life behind, and she of course fucked it all up when she went after limp dick in a cave dwelling. And right now, she was an Ayla, not an Alia.

The world, and by extension love, had Alejandra’s hand in a box of searing fire-pain, a poisoned needle at her throat. To move away, to flinch even the slightest bit, was to forfeit to death.

But Alejandra was a special kind of stupid. A true masochist. A pendeja who would never stop putting her hand in the box, because she’d foolishly hoped that maybe if she stuck her hand in, the fire would warm up the cold of her dying heart the second-third-fourth-fifth-twentieth time’s the charm.

She couldn’t lose Eddie to another Paige waiting in the wings.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

So instead of fighting the good fight within herself, she decided to go with what she knew: keep her mouth shut, her head down, pretend it didn’t burn, and show Eddie Munson that she could be ten, twenty, one hundred times better than any two-bid bitch with stupid earrings.

She had to pretend like certain things he’d said didn’t tear her whole world apart. If she had to pretend like she hadn’t spent the aftermath of their first date harboring resentment over an old flame, just to keep him from leaving her, she would.

Anything to quel that ugly, disgusting, green-eyed jealous beast in her heart that wanted desperately to derail from the mission, and cause a fucking public scene.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…

“ The old woman said : “You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”

The itch became the faintest burning. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded.

“To determine if you’re human. Be silent.” ”

— Frank Herbert

Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

¡ASK GAME! (KPDH)

- The way this little game will work is that whoever is interested in asking the Saja Boys some questions will slip them directly into my inbox, and I will try my best to draw and interpret each member answering the question accurately.

- If you'd like to ask a question to all of the Saja Boys collectively, text "Saja Boys!" before jotting down your question(s). If you want to ask an individual in the group a question. Text their respective name. For example, "Beomseok/Abby! What's your favorite color?"

- Any questions of any variety are allowed! It can even be a statement! SFW and NSFW, although SFW is preferred so I don't get shadowbanned on Tumblr. I'm only allowing three questions per person so I don't get a bunch of repeated questions, so think about it before you send them my way!

- Make sure they are simple and easy to navigate. If you ask an NSFW question and you are not of age, or have no age in your bio, I will be deleting your question and blocking you. SFW questions for minors ONLY.

- Now! If you have any other questions on something I didn't cover or the types of inquiry specifics I missed, please let me know in the comments! Other than that, I hope you enjoy this little game! The Saja Boys are hoping you have some fun with them!♡

RESPECTIVE (Preferred) NAMES:

Jinu = Jinu (duh lol)

Beomseok = Abby

Jae-Hyun = Romance

Garam = Mystery

Daeun = Baby

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

a pose that didn't got pick in a comm, i thought it looked too cute to just throw it out so i did a quick coloring to share with you guys tehe

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

Your honor, I love them

I've created not one, but two new members of Huntrix! I present to you Ha-Rin and Naru! They work internationally to keep the Honmoon everywhere else in the world (That makes sense right? Lol). Hopefully, it looks like they blend well with the others! Also if any of you have a better name idea instead of "Huntrix International", please lemme know!

I hope you like them! Enjoy♡♡

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

Yeah, hey, I’m unwell actually

I've Been Bewitched..

𝐁𝐘 𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒(𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐬):

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

Look at how talented this bitch is SHE DID THIS SO FAST!!!

♥︎¡¡𝐒𝐀𝐉𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒!!♡

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐏𝐨𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤—