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shawnxstyles · 1 year

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green and gold

DATE: MARCH 29, 2023

summary: tom invites you to the brothers trust charity event that you didn’t really want to go to. you made up countless excuses, trying to run away from him like you usually do, but were convinced anyway. during the event, tom finally confronts you about always running away when he’s close. years of pent-up feelings are unraveled along with some clothes to make up for all the time you lost.

request: yess

song: dress- taylor swift

words: 7.7k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight masturbation, some nipple play], exhibitism, small praise kink, unprotected sex [coming inside], dirty talk), pining, lots of fluff, and some language.

note: i used this image because it was one of the only ones i could find of him at the event where he wasn’t with other people lol. this is hardly edited

best friends to lovers :) famous!tom x female!reader

–

You really didn’t want to go tonight. You had so many reasons, or excuses is what Tom said, why you didn’t want to go to a high-end charity event. But your best friend put on his puppy dog eyes and played the “I need you by my side tonight” card. It was truly an unfair move.

The “reasons” you gave Tom were all in-the-moment excuses. Like “I have to clean my entire apartment and it’s going to take a week” or “I’m not going to feel good for the next week”. Yeah…your excuses got worse every time he asked.

Tom told you a week in advance and it went like this; he asked if you wanted to go, you said no for three days straight, and then eventually caved because of those stupid puppy dog eyes. That’s how most of Tom’s requests for your presence went. At first, you loved the idea of all the fancy clothes and luxurious events, but after about two nights out, you were already sick of it. You respected that Tom did that and more for a living.

Like every other event he convinced you to go to, you shared a suite in some grand hotel that still made your jaw drop from its lavishness. He made sure his team arranged an outfit for you each time, every dress more opulent than the last. The dresses he got you always fit you so perfectly, you were in disbelief when you looked in the mirror at the final results.

Tonight was no different. Well, it was a bit different. As you stood in front of the full length mirror, you stared at your figure way longer than you usually would have. Tom ordered you a long, green dress with velvet fabric that comforted your skin. It was snug, flawlessly fitting, and had a huge slit that showed your entire leg. You made sure to shave everything and wear your tiniest pair of underwear, so nothing could be seen.

You weren’t a celebrity like Tom. Yeah, sometimes you went to events with him, but only for support. You were seen on the media with him a lot, and after at least a year of fans either “shipping” you two or hating you, they finally understood the idea that a man and a woman can be friends.

No matter how much you hated it, that’s all you two were. That’s all it was ever going to be.

You and Tom have been friends since you were kids. You only ever saw him as a friend, and he, the same. But as puberty hit and hormones developed, the line of friendship began to blur for you. When he had a few girlfriends (all for short periods of time), it became clear to you that he had no interest in you outside of a friendship.

His name got huge after he landed the iconic role of playing Spider-man for the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But your relationship together never faded, along with the confusing feelings you learned to label as a crush. Your “crush” eventually turned into a “like”, and then…well, you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t in love with the man.

And as you smoothed your hands over the velvet dress, your heart swelled at the idea of it all. A girl in love with her best friend.

You took a deep breath and pulled your conscience away from your reflection. You hastingly put in the dangly, gold earrings with matching green gems that Tom also ordered for you. Sparkling gold heels rested by the bed, waiting for your feet to become ridiculously uncomfortable. You strapped them on and grabbed your black clutch on the bed. You peered one last time at your shared hotel room before walking out and to the elevators.

Outside, a car was ready to escort you to the event. As you rode, you made light conversation with Tom’s driver, Eddy, and asked about his family and how his night was. While entering, sitting, and exiting the car, you repeated numerous thank you’s just like you did every time he escorted you. A few events ago, you overheard him say you were something along the lines of “kind-hearted” and “a keeper”, which made you smile to yourself. But you swear Tom replied saying “that’s the goal”.

Maybe it was all in your head, but it never left you. Even if it was, you wanted to hold onto it–the sliver of possibility that there might be something between you and Tom.

You trailed up the long, creme cemented stairs and opened the double glass doors. The lobby was roomy and extremely tall for no good reason besides the glistening chandelier that hung from the roof. The floor was covered in red velvet carpet with a white and gold marble outline. Heels padding the carpet, you checked in easily and were directed to the ballroom area. You followed and strutted into the decked out event.

Similar to the lobby, red velvet and marble decorated the floor and walls. The foundation of the walls were dark wood, which matched pleasantly with the other colors. Accents of gold were everywhere, including the white-clothed tables; candle holders, golden tassels, and picture frames. Voices buzzed all around you, but you hardly acknowledged anyone before taking in the beauty of the room. This was definitely one of the fanciest events you’ve ever been to.

After a welcoming look, you scanned the crowded tables for a familiar face. Or, familiar faces. Since this was The Brothers Trust charity event, all of the Holland brothers were present. That being said, it was also one of your first questions you had asked Tom when he asked for you to go. Why would you need to go if he had the support of all his brothers? You would just be there.

But that’s all he wanted. He just wanted you there. At his events, by his side; in his house, in his bed, in his arms–he always just wanted you there.

You got easily distracted by the outfits and people that it took you a minute to find him. But when your eyes spotted his face, your heart skipped a beat so frequent and fast that it became comfortable. Tom stood in a criminally charming tux by a table of middle-aged people, conversing with a wide smile plastered on his tan face. You watched as he laughed whole-heartedly when Harry made a joke, clutching onto his arm for support.

Without noticing, you had swallowed all your saliva and weren’t breathing correctly. Once your brain and body wanted to function, you used your legs to wander his way.

Tom was busy talking to one of his associates at another table when you caught his eye from across the room. The words that left the older man’s mouth turned into a muffled hum along with all the other voices in the room as he gazed at you. He’s seen you in a numerous amount of dresses, all beautiful and glamorous in their own way. But the dress you’re sporting tonight caused his breath to hitch in his throat and heart stop–correction, it made everything stop. Everyone around you blurred as he absorbed the image of you strutting towards him in that dangerous green and gold.

Dangerous because he might not be able to hold himself back tonight.

“Uh, Tom?” The associate questioned, causing Tom to shake his head and peer down at the man. Before the man could continue about whatever he was talking about, Tom politely, but quickly excused himself with a pat on his shoulder and met with you in the midst of the room.

He inhaled deeply to appear unaffected, like you didn’t just ruin his entire night–entire life–by taking his breath away and looking drop-dead gorgeous. He wouldn’t be too surprised if you killed him.

“This place is ethereal,” You said, head spinning and arms waving. “I cannot believe you made me come to this.”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“Tom, I just said it was beautiful. Of course I like it. It’s just…a lot,” Your arms cross and you tuck your clutch under your armpit. “I don’t think this scene works for me.”

“Me either. You stick out like a sore thumb,” He teases with an exaggerated sigh. You dramatically gasp.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” You whisper-shout, leaning closer to him. He feels your breath fan his cheek and a slight blush creeps up his neck at the proximity. He doesn’t want to look down because he knows that he would get a glimpse of your breasts perched up by your crossed arms. However, his eyes betray him as his glances quickly at the pair causing a subtle twitch in his cock.

No more looking, Tom, he tells himself.

“You’re way prettier than all of these people. You’re killin’ all of their egos and raising all of their jealousies. If everyone hates me, I’m blamin’ you and that goddamn dress,” Tom expresses with gritted teeth, eyes wandering anywhere but yours. A wave of heat rushes up your neck and your eyes have a staring contest with the carpet.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, his eyes are piercing into yours causing your skin to feel flushed all over. The glare of his brown eyes kindles a small fire in the pits of your stomach, dull but throbbing. The feeling travels lower until there’s a slight drip in your thong.

“I’m glad I chose a good one,” He adds, eyes drifting to scan your entire frame once again with his hands behind his back. Your breasts raise up and down with the deep breaths you take, still unable to comprehend his previous words. You shake your head.

“You chose it?” You always thought it was some stylist, or literally anyone else but Tom. You thought it was just his money that he used to rent it. “Do you always choose my dresses?”

He nods matter-of-factly. “Of course. I’d like to think I know what you like.”

He wasn’t wrong. Every dress that he chose looked like it was made exclusively for you and only you. Whether it was flowy or tight, red or white, you always managed to leave the hotel room more confident than you had when you entered. Now that you think about it, you don’t remember ever telling Tom your sizing. It must have been something he learned along the way because like you said, every dress fit perfectly like it was tailored for you.

Before you could respond, a lady tapped on his shoulder and introduced herself. Tom didn’t hesitate to take a step back and introduce both himself and you. You greeted the lady kindly as you three talked about the goodness of the event. After a few minutes, the auction was set to begin and Tom had to excuse himself.

Before he went on stage, he showed you your seat, which was right in the front with Harry, Sam, and Paddy. You didn’t sit before giving them each a heartwarming hug, even though you saw them all yesterday. Even though you were in a glamorous ballroom you weren’t used to, you felt comforted by the boys you were close enough with to call the brothers you never had.

Sometimes, you wished you saw Tom that way. But when you compared the feelings in your heart and your head, you knew they could never be the same.

Finally, the auction started. Tom’s name glowed in dotted lights on the striped wall behind him. You turned your whole body to face Tom as he introduced the entire event before it got kick-started. Many items were being auctioned; paintings, autographed guitars, and other things that were so far out of your price range that you were deaf to all numbers over the thousands.

In between each item were fun little trivia games to keep the people awake and alert. It was an entertaining way to support a charity, and you felt a sense of pride because you knew it had been Tom’s idea. One of the trivia questions had been to guess how many na’s there were in “Hey Jude” by The Beatles. Some people got insanely close, but no one got it on the money.

After all the auctioning and bidding was over, you felt immensely poor, but felt instantly better when Tom came to sit next to you. The room chatted away, wining and dining while Tom’s brothers did the same. Unlike them, Tom turned to you.

“How are you?” His voice was raspy, probably from talking for hours. That subtle fire in your stomach tingles at his voice. You turn your body to face him.

“I’m good. You did really well up there, by the way,” You said, lifting your nearly empty wine glass to your lips. There’s a blurring stain from your shiny lip gloss on the rim.

“Thanks, love,” The graveliness of his throat doesn’t fade, even after he takes a few sips of water. You watch as his fingers wrap around the cup, and it’s embarrassing that you’re obsessed with his simplistic movements. You subconsciously lick your lips, unable to rid the dirty thoughts piling in your head.

Tux. Pretty. Hot. Raspy voice. Thick fingers.

Tom’s lips started moving, but you weren’t paying enough attention, too caught up in your head to focus on the living dream in front of you.

“What?” You asked, subtly leaning toward him. He leaned closer, lying a hand on your bare thigh through your slit. You quietly gasp because his hand is chilly from the water, but also because it was so close to where you ached. Your skin burned nearly causing you to break out in a sweat, contradicting his icy palm.

“Are you okay?” His other hand gently patted against your forehead and caressed your hot cheek with his thumb. “You’re warm.”

No shit. Does he see what he’s doing?

You couldn’t formulate a response when his hand traveled down to rest on the curve of your shoulder and neck. His hand on your mid-thigh rubbed reassuring circles as your heart thumped a million miles an hour.

“I’m fine,” You vaguely answered in a squeak, subtly squeezing your thighs when his touch got too much. His eyes glance briskly at your tightened thighs and anxious hands in your lap, a knowing eyebrow raising slightly. Tom didn’t mean to put his hand on your thigh, but now that it was there, he didn’t want to remove it. When he saw you squirm for a sliver of a second, he engaged in the idea that you might be turned on.

The thought made his cock twitch needily in his pants.

You didn’t notice, too concentrated on the feeling of his hands on you.

You wanted him to slide his hand up higher, to break that boundary that you’ve waited years to cross. But of course, when your chances were closer than ever, you had to be at some stupid, very public event. And doing anything explicit would be stupid.

“Are you sure? You’re burning up, love,” Tom’s hand squeezes the back of your heated neck causing you to inhale sharply. “And you’re so tense. What’s up, Y/N?”

You clenched your teeth. You began to run through every excuse in your mind, just like you had when Tom first asked you to this event. But he wasn’t texting you or calling you this time. He was sitting right in front of you with his hands on your neck and thigh. You nearly moaned out from just him rubbing your skin, his touch delicate with his rough skin. With every excuse you thought of, you couldn’t think of one that made sense enough for Tom to want to leave you alone for the rest of the night so you could collect yourself.

“I’m just really hot,” You complained in a low voice. Tom’s eyebrows raised, pursing and tightening his lips. To Tom, your voice sounded whiny and lustful. His dick stirred, slightly hardening at the growing conclusion that you’re highly aroused. Like him.

“What can I do, love?” He noticed the smallest quiver of your lip at the name, almost as if you were holding something in. He’s called you love for ages, so maybe it was something else. Or someone else…

What if it wasn’t even him? If it wasn’t him then what had you so worked up?

“Um…can we go outside? Need some air,” Your eyes traveled down to his pink lips, looking so soft and kissable. You were barely a foot away from him before he nodded and stood up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until a wavering sigh left your mouth. Tom extends his hand and you follow him to what you assume is outside.

He leads you out a back door after giving a curt nod to a security guard. The chilly February night breeze brushes over your skin, finally cooling you down as Tom releases your hand. The exit led to an alleyway, a brick wall that grew darker one way. You strained your eyes on each brick and attempted to concentrate on your breathing. But Tom’s looming presence made it impossible because that fire in the pit of your stomach never dulled.

“Feelin’ better?” He broke the silence and it had you swinging your head to face him. You shakingly nodded your head with a quick hum.

You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t stand so close to him while you were feeling this way.

“I have to go,” You exhaled briskly before beginning to walk away. Tom told you to wait, but you didn’t.

You didn’t get more than a few steps before Tom caught your hand and spun you around magically. Your shoulders collided with the surface as he stood in front of you, caging you to the wall. Your breathing faltered as your heart bounced crazily against your ribs, skin beginning to burn up again. He faced the floor before finally meeting your wide eyes. He gazed at you as if he was searching for something and you wanted to give it to him, whatever it was, so he would stop looking at you intensely.

“Why do you always do that?” His voice was a whisper, low and still a tad raspy.

“What?” You scanned his features, allured by his lips only inches away from yours. He’s never been so close and it was dangerous. So, so dangerous. The only barrier in between you was that line of friendship that thinned with every passing second.

“Always run away. Every time…”

Your heart raced faster than it ever has before. It thumped out of your chest like a lovestruck cartoon character as he had you hanging on every single word.

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Every time I get close. Every time I want to be closer, you make up some excuse so you don’t have to be near me. Am I that horrible, Y/N? Is the possibility of this that horrible?”

Possibility? Possibility of what? Oh, please be what you’re thinking.

“No, God, of course not. You’re perfect. You’re too perfect that I get…overwhelmed when I’m near you. I can’t do this,” You shake your head and try to duck away under his arms. You’re completely disarmed when one of his hands drops to pin your hip down. Your wiggling comes to a halt.

“There you go again. Just stay, Y/N,” He leans toward you, mouth hovering near your ear. Your senses dial up to a hundred when you feel his breath tickle your skin. “You’re still warm, Y/N.”

You bite your lip, holding in a whimper that was threatening to leave your mouth. Your hips subtly moved against his hand that stationed you to the wall, but you weren’t going anywhere.

A thick thigh parts your legs, pinning you to the wall more securely. You gasp as his hand that was on your hip travels up and brushes over the warm skin of your cheek. You search for the words in your brain.

Maybe instead of avoiding it, just go with it.

Tom is struggling. Being this close to you has his cock rock hard under his trousers. He’s sure you could feel him against your bare leg, which was slightly spread for his own leg. His chest was restricting and blocking his air flow because he couldn’t breathe correctly. Your glossy lips were plush and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you until you shared oxygen.

You felt what you assumed was his large boner on your thigh. You mewled so delicately you weren’t sure if he heard it, but he did.

You felt years of friendship being slowly torn apart with every second he didn’t say something. You were about to push him off of you and sprint towards your hotel, which was miles and miles away, so you could die of embarrassment. Or maybe you would die because of your lack of cardio.

When you looked away from him, his hand adjusted your chin so you were staring directly at him. A soft kind of smile adorned his lips, but no words were spoken quite yet. You hated the sliver of hope that leaked from your heart. His thumb rubbed against your bottom lip and pulled it down, smearing your lip gloss.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to kiss these lips?” Throat husky, he pushed himself impossibly closer to you, lips barely an inch away now. His nose bumped yours and you felt the breath evaporate from your lungs. “Sixteen years.”

“Sixteen years…” You repeated breathily. If you were to do the math, which your brain was very incapable of doing right now, that would be your entire friendship. Since you were only ten years old, Tom has been waiting to kiss you.

Tom’s been waiting to kiss you for sixteen years? That must mean…

“Promise you won’t run away,” Tom said, on the edge of pleading and demanding. A slow nod was all you did, and then Tom’s thumb slid down to your chin and tilted your head.

He pressed his lips to yours gently, slowly molding you both together. The motions are so agile, but you can feel everything this way. The tip of his tongue nudges yours, eliciting sparks of fire with every push of your lips. Your polished nails trail up and lightly scrape the soft hair on the nape of his neck. A swirl of passion ignites in your stomach, encouraging and begging for more. Eagerly, your movements got faster, rocking your heads together as you took in as much of one another as you could.

His body pins desperately into yours, smushing you against the rough wall. He removes his hand from your chin and slams it on the wall beside your head. His free hand lifts one of your legs, so he can slot himself in between you. A needy whimper escapes you as his clothed bulge presses against your damp thong. You clench around nothing but the aching and throbbing of your pussy.

“T-Tom, the dress–” You pant.

“I’ll buy you another one,” He slams his lips back on yours to shut you up, which of course, it works. But not for long before another excuse is popping up in your head.

“What if someone walks out here–”

“I’ll kill them,” He goes to kiss you again.

“Tom!” You dramatically shout with a giggle as your hand rests on his chest while the other is on his neck.

“Okay, I won’t actually kill them. Unless you want me to…” He drifts off, getting lost in your smile and your sparkling eyes.

At that moment, it hit him. He had you. He finally had you. Like he’s said, he’s waited sixteen years to have you. He’s been through trial and error with other girls, but they weren’t you. No one could ever be you.

Suddenly, someone bursts through the exit door and has both of your heads turning hastingly. Tom gently releases your leg as he scoffs annoyingly when he realizes it’s just his brother. His hand balls into a fist on the wall as he smiles irritatingly at Harry.

“There you are! Can you save this for later? We have things to sign and people to acknowledge,” Harry says before walking briskly back into the building.

“Yeah, let’s just “save this for later” like I haven’t waited long enough,” Tom mocks his brother with a grumble. You feel Tom sigh into the air. You bring your hand to caress his cheek reassuringly. After the last few minutes, you’ve gotten the courage to be a bit more vulnerable with him, without feeling the urge to run away.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve waited a long time, too,” You curl the corners of your lips into a faint smile as you watch your own thumb smooth over his tan skin. Tom practically melts into your touch, smiling goofily at you. “But we’ve waited this long, what’s a few more hours going to do?”

“Kill me,” Tom mumbles dramatically and you roll your eyes. “I don’t want you to run away.”

Your heart aches at his words. You made a promise to him, and you planned to fulfill that. After that kiss and feeling him in ways that you only imagined, you couldn’t run away now. You needed more of him, all of him. But even if you had all of him, you don’t think you’d be able to leave him again.

“I’ll stay by your side all night. Just like you asked,” You reassured and he nodded. He slowly backs away from the wall, releasing you, and all the heat between you dissipates. But your skin still burned from his touch and your clit still throbbed for him. You quickly adjusted your dress and wiped your hands over the fabric.

“How does the dress look? Fucked up?” You asked, spinning in a half circle. Tom cursed to himself, getting a view of the curve of your ass. That dress really did fit you perfectly, but he wanted nothing more than for it to be off of you.

“Not nearly as bad as I want it to be,” He husked, the sexual innuendo hanging in the air. He quickly swipes his thumb under your lip to fix your smeared gloss before leading you back inside. You blink a few times as he drags you through the door. You weren’t used to him being so blunt, but you loved it. It made you aware that there was something between you and Tom.

You had both surpassed the line of friendship ages ago. You looked back at it like a distant horizon as you entered a new, long-awaited arena; romance.

–

After what you swear was the longest two hours of your life, Tom had talked to every person at least twice with the addition of his goodbyes. Ever since you came back from outside, the tension between you and Tom was undeniable. You stuck to your word and were tied to Tom’s side for the straining hours. His hand was placed on your lower back for most of the night torturing you, and it was no different when he was ushering you out of the front door. Hastily, you both went down the steps and into the car with Eddy.

You tried your best to make normal conversation with Eddy like you usually do, but when Tom placed his large hand on your bare thigh again, it was hard to comprehend anything. Eventually, you entered traffic and Eddy got a phone call. He pressed a button and the wall that separated him from you and Tom was rolled up.

Tom gave you a knowing look as his hand raised higher on your thigh. Your breath hitched as his fingers were merely inches from your drenched heat. You instinctively spread your legs a bit wider, allowing him more access. He leans toward you, purposefully missing your lips and pecking your cheek. He tucks a stray strand of hair around your ear causing shivers to crawl up your spine.

“Are you wet, darling?” His thumb rubs dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Finally, his finger skims over the laced fabric, soaking. You whine when his delicate, teasing touch pets your clit. He chuckles hoarsely. “You’re soaked, baby. Have you been like this all night?”

You nod with closed eyes. “Please, touch me, Tom,” You plead quietly, in fear that Eddy might hear you.

“In the back of the car? Naughty thing,” His fingers press harder into your seeping hole, still covered by your panties. He rubs your hole, thumb petting your clit while your hand slaps over your mouth to keep you quiet. Your chest rises quickly with your racing breaths, your nipples poking at velvet material.

Tom slides your thong to the side, making bare contact with your dripping cunt. He massages your arousal around your folds while his thumb quickens its pace on your throbbing clit. That fire in your lower belly burns deliciously as his movements send you into a frenzy.

“Tom,” You mewled behind your hand suctioned to your face. Tom groans as his middle finger slips into your hole easily. Your hips buck into his touch, back slightly arched.

“Almost there, Mr. Holland,” Eddy informs on the other side of the wall. Your eyes widen as your heart beats quickly in a panic.

What if you get caught? Oh God, you would seriously die of embarrassment.

“Okay,” Tom replies simply, as if he’s unaffected and he isn’t fingering you in the back of a car. Tom’s voice lowers and instantly becomes raspier. “Are you almost there, Y/N?”

You remove your hand from your face, so you can hold onto his shoulder and nod briskly. Your nails dig into his tux jacket as your head slams against the leather seat. Rolling your hips for more, Tom inserts another finger into you and curls them. Your teeth stab into your bottom lip, probably drawing blood, so you don’t scream and alert the whole street.

“I need you to come, love. Right now,” His order was soft and sexy, but demanding and dirty. The thrusts of his fingers only increase in pace as he tries to get you to your orgasm before the car comes to a stop. With another curl of his fingers and a nudge to your clit, your stomach tightened until relief flooded over you.

Noticing this, Tom crashes his lips onto yours to dull your sweet noises. Every moan, scream, and whimper melts into his mouth as his fingers gradually pump into you. Your legs spasm intensely as your release coats his fingers. Tom pulls away from you and takes his fingers out from your sopping cunt, messy with your arousal and cum.

He doesn’t hesitate to raise the substance up to his pink lips, licking it clean off his hand with a devilish smirk on his face. You watch him do so with a widened mouth while you try to catch your breath, panting.

“Did so good, love,” His smirk never fades as the car comes to a stop. Before you know it, Eddy is unlocking and opening your door for you both. You exit first while trying to fix your disheveled appearance, so your post-orgasm look isn’t too suspicious. You mumble a thank you as you hurriedly walk to the front door of the lavish hotel. You stop in your tracks, almost forgetting your clutch in the car. Turning around, you walk back to the car and overhear Eddy and Tom again.

“I’m no fool, Mr. Holland. You told her.”

“I know you’re not, Eddy. And I did. Finally,” Eddy pats him on the shoulder. “And you can call me Tom, you know. We’re friends.”

“I know, I know. Because as your friend and driver, I know when to roll up the partition.”

As a wave of heat rushes up your neck and cascades onto your face, you realize that the clutch wasn’t that important and someone would return it. You resume your fast-paced walk into the hotel with an uncontrollable smile on your face.

A girl in love with her best friend.

–

Since you didn’t have your clutch, you were standing in front of your hotel room waiting for Tom. He wasn’t long after you, finally walking up to you with a smug smirk on his face. And your clutch in his hands. You snatch it from him.

“Finally, I can take these heels off,” You moan, slipping them off as he scans the card and unlocks the room. You place them on the floor near the door and head straight for your room. You don’t get too far, though, because Tom captured your hand and is twirling you around just like earlier in the night.

He traps you on the door, instantly warm against you. You feel his bulge poke your bare thigh as he spreads your legs slightly, fitting in between them. He grabs your hands and pins them above your hands.

“Your dress,” Rough and raspy, his breath fans your cheek.

“What about it?” You whisper, swallowing as your heart falters.

“I need it on the floor,” He husks. You hesitate, so aroused you can’t think straight. You just had an orgasm in the car and you were already horny again. This man made you insatiable.

“Then take it off,” You reply. Everything was so quiet around you. The only things you could hear were your ragged breathing and galloping heart. Tom groans, but listens.

He drops your hands and then folds the straps off your shoulders until your dress is pooled around your ankles. Now, you stood anxious in nothing but a black thong.

“Fuck me,” He grumbles after just looking at you for a second. Your breasts were bare and perky, nippled pebbled from being so turned on. He wanted to put them in his mouth and suck on them until you were sore and begging him to stop.

“That’s the goal,” You’re not sure if he got the reference, but he chuckled, voice even more raspy from the low talking.

“I knew you heard that conversation, you minx,” Without a warning, Tom sweeps you off the ground and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal, squirming in his hold, but it doesn’t even phase him as he leads you toward his bedroom. He jokingly slaps one of your ass cheeks causing you to shriek at the jolt of pain. You won’t lie, it turned you on even more.

Tom tosses you on the bed easily, watching as you scramble to lay on your elbows. You gaze at him with a seductively lip bite, wondering what he has in store for you.

“Touch yourself,” He orders as he loosens his bowtie around his neck. “C’mon, want to see what you can do.”

Hesitatingly, your hand sails down to your laced thong, slick with arousal. Your fingers rub your throbbing clit causing you to sigh and spread your legs. Your eyes drift shut as you get immersed in the feeling of your own hand. Your other hand massages your breast, gently pulling on your nipples. Getting eager, you yank your panties off. You get a glimpse at Tom, who is admiring your every move in nothing now.

Fuck.

You’ll never get used to Tom’s body. He was attractive on a God-scale level and sometimes that scared you. But finally seeing his whole body was jaw-dropping. His cock was girthy with a good amount of length that you had a feeling would kill you. His tip was pink like his lips, and like his lips, you wanted your mouth on it. Was he even real?

You didn’t get too much time to think about it because Tom was removing your hand from between your legs while hovering over you. His brown orbs ogle yours, piercing into your soul and reading you. Although you were way past friendship, entering the “romance” area was very scary. If not, scarier. Tom’s body above yours and the way you could see every detail of his skin terrified you. But you’ve never wanted something more in your entire life.

You pushed your head up, interlocking your lips with his. You melt into a passionate kiss, your hands entwining with his brown locks. Tom drags his lips down your neck, sucking for a moment on a sensitive part. Moaning, his smirks smugly against your skin, trailing lower. He meets your breast and immediately begins to suck on it.

You sharply inhale as his tongue swirls around the bud. His other hand twists the other causing your back to bend off the mattress. It should be illegal for him to be this good with his mouth. He could cause some serious damage.

He sails lower and lower until he’s kissing the skin near your heat. You’re already panting and he hasn’t even touched you yet. His mouth licks your thighs, teasing you immensely. You had already come once tonight around his fingers, you didn’t expect his mouth too. Although you would love to have his mouth on you, right now, you just needed him inside of you. You needed to feel him stretch you out and officially break that boundary.

“I really need you inside of me. Like right now,” You yank on his hair, pulling him towards you. He moans at your words and you love how vocal he is.

“Need a condom, fuck, hold on–”

“Can you actually um…not have one?” You suggested, voice shaky as the question came out. You just wanted to feel him. Everything that he was willing to give you, you wanted. You’ve both waited too long for this. In some way, you felt like you were in a relationship with him this whole time.

Maybe that’s what friendship to relationship feels like.

“Are you…are y’sure? I mean, I’m clean and everythin’–”

“Tom,” You put a reassuring hand to his warm cheek. “I’ve never wanted something more.”

“Christ,” He grits and strokes his shaft above your cunt a few times. His tip teases your entrance, and the small, but very bare contact had you both hissing into the air. “So fucking wet for me.”

His dribble of pre-cum mixes with your arousal as he rubs himself against you. Finally after ten years of waiting, literally, he slowly pushed himself inside of you. The crown of his cock is squeezed by your walls as if you were going to lose him. He curses, pulling himself out an inch, just to add more of his length.

Just like you craved, you feel the impending stretch as his entire cock gradually enters you. Once he’s fully in you, you sigh as he holds the position for a moment. You both take in the feeling of the moment; you’re never going to forget his body on yours or the look on his face as he slowly moves.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, darlin’,” Tom moans with a lip bite.

“Please, please, move,” Just as eager as you, he obeys your request.

He lifts his hips, almost pulling completely out, before thrusting back inside. You cohesively moan, your mixed sounds echoing off the hotel walls. His leisure rocks gently accelerate into powerful pumps, hitting that sensitive spot with a simple nudge of his cock. Your body naturally levitates toward his body, pushing your neglected breasts on his skin.

Tom rams his cock into you, pinning you to the bed with his harsh thrusts. His head falls in the cradle of your shoulder as one of his hands lifts your leg to spread you wider. When his dick sinks entirely deeper, you gasp and drown in a mix of moans and screams. Your nails dig into his tough shoulder blades, probably leaving crescent moon shaped marks. Your leg wraps around his backside, forcing him to be deep inside of you forever.

Your head is thrown back onto his pillow, hair fanned out wildly. When Tom lifts his head to look at you, the wind practically gets knocked out of him. You were drop-dead gorgeous in your dress, like he said. God, your naked, bare figure nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. But watching you wither in complete bliss underneath him gave him a sense of pride that he was the one making you feel this way. No one else. And it would never be anyone else ever again.

With this thought, his cock pumps barbarically into you, rightfully proving to you that your friendship will never be the same. He repeatedly pokes at your G-spot, eliciting debauched shrieks from you. When you thought it couldn’t feel any better, Tom’s hand sneaks between you both and circles lightly on your clit.

“Feels so good. God, you’re so good,” You praise breathily. Clenching around him, a shuddering moan leaves him. “I’m so close, please.”

“Gonna come for me, hm? Need to feel you come around my cock,” Tom orders with another jarring thrust into your cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his demanding words, your body on the verge of caving.

Squeezing around him greedily, your entire figure tenses as an overpowering wave of relief floods over you. Your abdominal muscles clench intensely, your hands cramping from fisting his skin so hard. Your legs flutter around him as you begin to coat his cock in your release. At the same time, you feel the twitch of Tom’s length inside of you, alerting you that he’s close.

“Where do you want me to…” He grunts when you clutch around him from overstimulation. A string of curses leak from his mouth as he holds back his load, waiting for your response.

“I-Inside, please. Fuck, I need it inside of me, Tom,” You panted as he practically growls against your perspired skin.

“Fuckin’ killing me, angel. Shit,” Finally, Tom releases into you, pumping sloppily as he does so. You sigh relievingly as his orgasm covers your walls, tingling your insides. He slowly pushes every drop inside of you, ensuring you didn’t miss any.

Your eyelids flutter closed as Tom falls on the bed beside you. Your body sinks into the mattress beneath you, suddenly too tired to move. You had a keen feeling that tomorrow you would struggle to walk, or move in general.

“Tom,” You start. “I think you just ruined me forever.”

“Good,” His post-orgasm was somehow even more sexy. It was groggy and double raspy. He drags your body towards him and holds you close. Your head relaxes on his buff chest, his rapid beating heart making you smile to yourself. “I want to ruin you for everyone else.”

The heat on your skin that you thought had ceased never did, not with his flirtatious and alluring comments. A flush creeps up and makes your cheeks all warm against his torso.

“You know you’re mine now, right?”

“That’s definitely not how I pictured you asking me out…”

“Well, how did you picture it?” The truth is, you never really pictured it. You never let yourself think that far because then you would start getting hopeful. And being hopeful made you scared, and when you were scared…you ran away. It was a constant loop of life you lived in. However, with Tom lying beside you as your face was cradled in his chest, you had a feeling you wouldn’t have a problem staying this time.

“How about “Will you be my girlfriend?” That seems better.”

“But what if you said no? Might as well jus’ say you’re mine, so you can’t,” He kisses the top of your head softly while you roll your eyes at his foolishness. “Aren’t you glad you went now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off. Realizing you have to get up from the comfort of his security, you gently push yourself up into a sitting position.

“I really don’t want to get up.”

“Then don’t? Just stay here. We don’t ever have to leave this room again.”

“As much as I love you, I’m not sleeping with a face full of makeup,” You begin to slide off the bed before you realize what you just said.

Oh fuck. Did you just admit you loved him after not even five minutes of being in a relationship?

“You love me?” He gripped your wrist, but didn’t spin you like what he did earlier. This time he let you stand still in shock of your own words. In every other situation you would have run away or made some excuse. But you wanted to be different. You didn’t want to be so easily intimidated by intimacy or vulnerability anymore. You really did love Tom, you always have, even if it took you a little longer than him to realize it.

Maybe instead of avoiding it, just go with it.

“Yeah, I do,” You smile full-heartedly at Tom, delicately biting your lip. A part inside of you bursted open, unlocking all sorts of emotions you didn’t know how to comprehend or express.

“I love you too, So much,” You both lean in to share a passionate kiss, but you cut it short to seriously push him off of you, so you could leave and wash up. If you didn’t have an ounce of self-control for the both of you, you would never leave this hotel room. Tom was clearly the insatiable one.

“If you don’t come back to my bed in five minutes, I’m dragging your ass in here. No warnings,” Tom says before you strut out of his room completely naked. You hear him groan to himself, which makes you giggle like a young school girl.

Walking to your bathroom, the same uncontrollable smile etches on your face like the one you had when you returned to the hotel. You splashed icy cold water to your heated cheeks and tried to rub away the plastered grin, but nothing could dull the adoration you felt for the other man in your hotel room. Instead of trying to erase it, you stared and allowed yourself to feel the emotion without running away from it.

A girl in love with her best friend.

A boy in love with his best friend.

Best friends who are stupidly in love with each other.

–

this was wayy longer than i thought. i liked this a lot more than i thought i would, too. i hope you enjoyed it just as much :D

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fan fics #tom holland fan fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland best friends to lovers #tom holland friends to lovers

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simplydannie · 3 months

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This may seem crazy but the outro of billie eilish's song "blue" makes me think of your au of floyd and the twins pls listen to it and see what you think (love your posts btw) !!!

Haii!!

First of all, thank you so much! It means a lot to me!

Secondly, I went ahead and listened to the song (since i had never heard it lol) and the feels it gave me. Of course Billie never fails to impress with her music ❤️ Listening to those lyrics really got me thinking that his is Floyd talking to twins, a really hopeless Floyd where he thinks they can’t be saved at all. This little story popped in my head while listening to that beautiful song:

Previous “The Betrayal”

One month….

It had been one month since Veneer trapped him inside this diamond that now served as his prison. One month of torture they were putting him through…But through all this, Floyd couldn’t help but feel it was all his fault.

He looked through the glass diamond at the twins…his twins. He looked at the pop crazed little demons they’ve become. Their glammed up hair, makeup, clothing. This isn’t them, he thought to himself. These weren’t his twins that he met and cared for. How in the world did he allow for this to happen? Why did he accuse them and think they were all part of this evil woman’s plan? Why did he go off on them like that?

Time and time again he tried to talk to them, try to speak reason. Velvet didn’t want to hear, she no longer cared for what he had to say. She didn’t even call him by his name anymore. All he was to her was the “Troll”. Veneer never spoke his name again either… “little guy”…That’s all he was. Why couldn’t they speak his name? Why couldn’t they call him what they once did? Floyd….Dad…It hurt him, he tried not to feel anything, but he couldn’t help it, it hurt because its as if those years with him never existed.

He tried to get pieces of conversations whenever Mistress was around…but it’s as if she knew he was listening. She dare not speak around him. It was one day, that the twins were rehearsing for a performance that broke him, yet, he was helpless, all he could do was watch.

“SLOPPY! THAT WAS SLOPPY!” Mistress yelled.

“Of course it was! We don’t have the Troll.” Velvet fought back.

“The Troll is only for performance. At least until you guys can get your hands on more. Veneer, what the hell? You’re lagging! You need to be EXACTLY like your sister. Other wise this whole perfect, twin illusion thing will fail!” She yelled.

“Uh, what do you think I’m trying to do?” He responded, “Besides I’m not my sister! We’re twins but we’re totally different. I have my own charisma, can’t I try doing that instead.”

“No! The main reason I contracted you two is not only because of your subspecies abilities, but you two are the only known Rageon twins. Do you know how much money that is making me?! You’re person, you’re look, it all depends on it. No one cares who the hell you really are! Your sister is the more charismatic one, so you follow her lead!”

“Yeah bro.” Velvet teased sticking out her tongue.

“From the top!”

Floyd watched as the Mistress over worked the twins, how she molded them. He did nothing to help back then, he really couldn’t do anything about it now. He saw how she shook her head and stomped her foot in anger…

“Dammit! No, no, no! Dammit Veneer!” She began to march up the stage.

“I did what you wanted me too. Not my fault I’m now as flexible as- AHHH!” Mistress smacked him clear across the face. Veneer retreated holding his cheek. Velvet stood there staring in bewilderment. All Floyd could do was stand up and bang against the diamond attempting to grab their attention, but he had no luck. Tears began to well up in Veneers eyes.

“Don’t you dare cry! Crying is for the weak! Study your sister’s movements to perfection. Remember you’re her exact copy. We’re done for the day.” She stormed off.

The twins just stood there staring after her, a distant look in their eyes, staring off into space as if zombified, “Guys?” Floyd called out. He knew he caught their attention, he saw the snap back in their eyes. Velvet side eyed him, a look of disgust on her face.

“Let’s go. Come on, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go while we can.” He said practically begging them.

Velvet sneered, “Who the hell do you think you are Troll?”

“Velvet…you have to be kidding me. You haven’t called me by my name in a while. It’s like you forgot who I was.”

“You’re our little tool to stardom. That’s it. Let’s go Ven.” She marched off. Veneer only spared a small glance at Floyd and went off after his sister, still holding his cheek where Mistress slapped him…

…They are really gone, aren’t they? There was no look of compassion or remembrance in any of their eyes. What they had was now just a dream, a ghost, and Floyd couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault. He should’ve spoken to them when he still could, when their hearts weren’t changed, when they weren’t under this, this “spell” that witch had them in. He didn’t know how could bring them back, or even if that was possible. Floyd fell to his knees inside the diamond bottle. Leaning his forehead against the diamond wall, tears began to fall as song began to rise in him…

“Born blameless…grew up famous too…I don't blame you…But I can't change you…Don't hate you…But we can't save you.” Tears fell form his eyes to the floor of the diamond, “I’m sorry guys…I failed you.”

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littlemissaddict · 2 years

Text

Psycho - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: She's Jason Carver's ex and she's finally rediscovering who she is thanks to a certain metalhead. Very loosely based on the song Psycho by Taylor Acorn.

Word Count: 4622

Reposting to see if I can get it to show in tags.

Walking into the cafeteria and seeing Jason with his arm slung around Chrissy’s shoulders, not two days after she had broken up with him, only confirmed to her that she had made the right decision. His smug grin had her sick to her stomach, so much so that she was tempted to leave right then and there as she was no longer interested in her lunch but she couldn’t. It would only give Jason the satisfaction to think that he had won when he really hadn’t.

Rolling her eyes as she made an attempt to pass the table unnoticed but of course he noticed her. Since the break up it was like she couldn’t get any peace from him; walking to her locker - there he was; passing him to get to her seat in class - grabbing her arm, anything to have a dig at her about how she lost the best thing to ever happen to her and it seemed that right now would be the same.

“There she is the sorry little soul that let me go” he sneered, glancing around the table where the rest of the basketball team and cheer team sat, revelling in the way that they all laughed at his words. Given that she used to be a part of the cheer team, she had hoped that at least a couple of them would ignore Jason’s words but no, it seems like all the bonds she’d created with them were all fake. What a surprise, she thought as she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“What do you want, Carver?” she spat, her words laced with poison as she waited impatiently for what he had to say, wanting more than anything to just walk away and have nothing to do with him ever again.

“Just thought you should know that you’ve been replaced so there will be no more need for your little stalker act” he smirked, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arm around Chrissy’s shoulders again. She noted how uncomfortable Chrissy looked and she felt for her, she really did but it wasn’t her fault she got sucked in by his fake charm, hell even she fell for it until she realised that’s just what it was, fake. Now though she was facing Jason’s wrath for hurting his ego but she didn’t care, she’d spent years trying to force herself to fit the mould of what he wanted her to be and she was done with it.

“Oh is that what you think this is, one of those ‘if I can’t have you then nobody can’” she enquired, tilting her head to the side and forcing her eyes to look as innocent as possible, “because it’s not, this is a fuck you Jason Carver, now leave me in peace” she spoke, unable to hide the roll of her eyes as she marched off to find an empty table far away from his stupid face.

Vaguely aware of the stares from those on his table and the surrounding tables, she kept her head high because the last thing she wanted to do was to show weakness to that prick.

The music room was always quiet on a Friday after classes had finished, most kids wanting to leave as soon as possible but she liked the quiet it gave. Even more so now, her notebook open on the table in front of her as her pen scribbled down the thoughts as they appeared. It had been a while since she’d played or even attempted to write but with the events of the past week it seemed that the inspiration that came out of it was the only good thing to have happened that week.

Eddie hadn’t meant to stand in the doorway watching her like some kind of creep. He’d been on his way to the drama room to set up for Hellfire but to get there he had to pass the music room; he also didn’t expect there to be anyone still at the school this late and especially not for anyone to sound as though they were pouring their heart out over a guitar.

Now the music was definitely not heavy enough for his taste but he was a musician through and through so he couldn’t help but admire the talent coming from in the room which was why he’d stopped in the first place. What he definitely didn’t expect to see was Jason Carver’s ex, hunched over the guitar, definitely not looking like herself or how she’d always presented herself in all that peppy getup. No, her clothes, dare he say it looked a lot more like his own, dark jeans and top with a denim jacket over the top and battered converse on her feet. If this was the real her then Eddie wanted to get to know her, not the show she put on for anyone else but he wasn’t going to be able to do that if her first impression of him was from him watching her without her knowledge.

Clearing his throat as he stepped into the room, she looked up, wide eyed at being caught, even more so when she saw that it was none other than Eddie Munson that caught her.

“Didn’t know you played” he spoke, brow arched in curiosity as he tried to make himself appear less intimidating than he usually did, knowing it was the first time that they’d have spoken and he didn’t know anything about her so he didn’t want to scare her. Though he didn’t need to be worried, she wasn’t as meek as she let on, or as she’d played on to keep on Jason’s good side.

“There’s a lot you-anyone” she corrected herself, “don’t know about me” she replied, no bite in her words but not necessarily all that friendly either as she was still unsure of his intentions. She kept the guitar against her body as he came closer, not that she expected him to do anything but it was more of a comfort, a barrier she supposed, between them.

Eddie perched on the table across from her as if sensing her hesitancy and the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable and it seemed to work, her hold on the guitar loosened. “Yeah, like what” he asked, his curiosity as genuine as his wanting to get to know her.

“That I’m not like everyone thinks I am, the whole way I’m perceived is a mask I created to get through high school but I’m tired, I don’t want to live that way anymore” she revealed, the truth that she’d kept hidden for so long finally out there and it was like a weight was lifted from her even if she’d only confessed it to someone who she didn’t think even cared.

Eddie was shocked by her words; from the outside it seemed like she had the perfect life, good grades, good friends, a boyfriend her parents could be proud of but he should know not everything was how it seemed in this town. “So how do you want to live?” he asked cautiously, his hands pulling at the frayed edges of the rips in his jeans but his eyes never left hers.

“I just want to be me” she sighed, eyes meeting his own and he could see the pain and the pressure behind them of trying to be something she’s not, giving way to relief of being able to move on to finally be free from it.

“Okay how about we start now” Eddie smiled, leaning forward to extend a hand to her in an over-the-top formal way in hope of getting her to smile, “I’m Eddie”

She smiled, accepting his hand and shaking it slowly as she spoke her name back to him, slowly beginning to feel some semblance of her old self.

Eddie didn’t stay long after that as a curly haired boy popped his head into the room looking for his dungeon master, he apologised with a smile claiming that duty calls as he made his way out of the room following the freshman. She could hear them bickering as they made their way down the hall and it made her smile, hopefully this was the beginning of something, something new and real where she didn’t have to hide who she was anymore.

The next few weeks passed in a blur, aside from the occasional jibes from Jason and her spending most of her time at school alone now that most of her friends had turned her back on her, nothing in her life had really changed. School was still the same, she was working her ass off trying to do everything she could to make sure she graduated in the spring so that she could move on from this hell hole. Although the only thing she seemed to look forward to was the time she spent in the music room on a Friday, where Eddie had seemed to make it his mission to come find her before inevitably being called away by the same young freshman each time.

Today, he was already there when she arrived. He looked antsy as if there was something he wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to. She didn’t want to push him, knowing he’d ask eventually and when he did, she was surprised he hadn’t asked sooner.

“That song you always play, what is it?” he asked, he’d been wanting to ask from the moment he first heard her playing it but he always remembered a little too late and Dustin was already insisting it was time to go. Although he didn’t give her much time to answer before he was speaking again, “because I swear the music has been stuck in my head and I’ve been asking around but no one seems to have heard it before”

“They won’t have” she says plainly, fighting the smile that plays on her lips at the thought that he remembered it, “because I wrote it” she reveals.

The shock slowly spreads across his face, his eyes blown wide, mouth hanging open but it’s quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of excitement, “Can I hear it” he asks, face falling when she shakes her head. “Why not?” he pouts, big brown eyes staring at her and she almost caves.

“Because it’s not ready” she answers, only she’s not one hundred percent honest, the song has been ready for weeks but every time she plays it, it just doesn’t feel right. Eddie’s eyes are searching hers trying to figure it out, she relents under his gaze, “okay it’s ready but it’s supposed to be this big ‘fuck you’ song but it’s just too soft” she says, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she sinks further into her chair.

“So, you want something heavier?” he asks, just to clarify before he makes his offer and when she nods, he makes his play, “How about a metal band?”

She huffs out a laugh at his words as she stares at him, trying to figure out if he’s just trying to cheer her up or if he’s being serious but when she sees there’s no teasing in him at all she knows he means his words. “and where am I supposed to find a metal band?” she asks with a roll of her eyes with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Sweetheart, you are looking at the lead singer of the one and only Corroded Coffin” he smirks, “a metal band and completely at your service” he adds and for good measure he plays into the theatrics that he knows always gets a laugh from her as he sweeps his right arm across his torso, bending at the hips in a bow before standing back up.

“Yeah, okay” she laughs along with him.

“Good, sit with us at lunch on Monday and we can work out the details” he says before right on cue, Dustin is calling for Eddie and she’s left on her own again.

Monday comes and she’s a little worried about joining the Hellfire table for lunch, not because of what anyone in the school would think of her because she’s beyond caring now, no she’s worried about what the rest of his group would think. Eddie has been a real friend to her lately and she doesn’t want that to change just because his friends don’t like her. She’s not left with much chance to ponder it anymore as a familiar face pops up beside her as she closes her locker.

“Eddie seriously” she laughs, a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her beating heart from the scare he’d given her by popping up unannounced.

He laughs, though not unkindly as she steadies herself. “You ready?” he asks and she nods following him through the crowds of students, though her being with Eddie doesn’t go unnoticed, especially as the pass the basketball team’s table. Snickers and catcalls erupt from them as they pass and she doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes find her, checking to make sure she’s okay but she smiles at him as she keeps her head held high, silently urging him to keep moving and thankfully he does.

When they reach the Hellfire table, all chatter stops as they turn to look at her. She can feel herself growing more nervous by the second as all her previous worries come flooding back, until Eddie smacks a couple of them on the back of the head and they seem to remember their manners. As Eddie takes his usual seat the boy next to him, who she recognises as the curly haired kid that comes to get Eddie on a Friday, has begun shuffling everyone on the bench along so that she has the seat next to Eddie. She smiles in thanks to him as she sits down, Eddie looking proud as punch to have her finally sitting with them so long as they boys keep in check.

“So we finally meet the mysterious girl that has kept Eddie late to our meetings” he smiles from beside her and she can tell straight away that this kid is a handful just by the smirk on his face, “I’m Dustin” he adds, sending a wink Eddie’s way afterwards and she can’t help but smile as they go around the table introducing themselves. The older ones seem a little more suspicious of her than the younger ones but she puts that down to them knowing her as Jason Carver’s ex, even the words leave her with a bad taste in her mouth and she wasn’t the one bearing the brunt of his bullying until now it seems.

“Look at what we have here” Jason’s voice sounds from behind her and she feels her jaw clench as he drops a hand to rest on her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eyes she can see the boys around the table tense, Eddie’s the only one who seems unaffected by Jason’s presence. “Little miss perfect has downgraded herself to sit with the freaks” he sneers as his friends’ snort with laughter from beside him.

Plastering a sweet smile onto her face, she turns to face him while brushing his hand from her shoulder, “The only downgrading I ever did was to myself while I was with you so really I’ve upgraded” her voice was sweet as she spoke, a complete contrast from the bite of her words.

“You’re insane if you think that these freaks can give you more than I can” Jason spat, his eyes darkening with anger as he wasn’t used to being spoken back to especially by her.

Beside her she could feel Eddie straightening in his seat, he couldn’t care less when he was called a freak or any of the other hurtful words were being directed at him but when they were directed at his friends or anyone that he cared about that’s when he wanted to get involved. She found it sweet but she didn’t want him starting a fight in the middle of the cafeteria, so with a gentle hand placed on top of his to stop him she turned her attention back Jason, “I’m glad you’ve realised now I think your girlfriend is looking for you” she replied, not giving up on her sweet demeanour as she can tell how much it’s annoying him.

“You really are a psycho, aren’t you?” he says, shaking his head as he frowns, not missing the small touch between her and Eddie which winds him up even more, knowing that she’s left him for the freak.

Once Jason and his friends have left, she turns to find the whole table staring at her. Hiding her face in her hands is her first reaction but Eddie is quick to pull them away, “Now that was fucking metal” he smiles, the table agreeing with him as they all chip in their amazement, all of them even Jeff and Gareth who were unsure at first seeming to be warming up to her which makes her wonder what she was worried about to begin with.

The following Saturday she’s bundled into the front seat of Eddie’s van on her way to Gareth’s for an impromptu session to work on her song with the metal band she was promised.

“Are you sure they don’t mind?” she worriedly asks Eddie for what feels like the thousandth time since she climbed in the van.

Eddie chuckles softly at her, “They wouldn’t have agreed if they did, besides after your little display at lunch they want to see what else you can surprise them with” he teases, knowing she was still a little embarrassed about that but at least it showed that she was genuine in her separation from Jason.

The truth was it had taken the band a little persuasion on Eddie’s behalf to get them to agree to this as Jeff was adamant the he wasn’t going to be playing no love song and even though Eddie had no idea what the song was about he had reassured them that it wasn’t going to be a love song, hopefully he was right.

Pulling up outside Gareth’s, Eddie reassured her once again that it was going to be fine and as they climbed out the van, she could already hear the sound of the band practising and she had to admit they sounded good. Eddie sidled up beside her, passing her, her guitar as he stood with his own in hand, not even hearing him get them out of the back of the van as she was too busy listening to the boys play.

“I know they’re good” he chuckled, leading the way to the already open door of the garage.

All three of them stopped playing as the two of them came into view. “Ah nice of you to join us” Gareth teases, from behind his drum kit as his hand comes up to brush his hair out of his face.

“So little miss songwriter, what do you have for us today” Jeff asks, praying to god Eddie was right about it not being a love song.

“I can show you but bear with me it doesn’t make much of an impact played on an acoustic so afterwards you can put your own spin on it” she rambled, suddenly feeling nervous about playing for them because it had been a while since she had played for anybody other than herself, “or you can say no” she added with a small smile.

Eddie’s smile was encouraging as she began to play but when she started to sing, boy was he blown away. He figured she could sing but nowhere near as good as she was and it seems the boys agreed with him, all of them wearing the same surprised look as himself. He had to admit that she was right about the song though, considering she’d wrote it as a ‘fuck you’ on her guitar it sounded so sweet and floaty, it needed something behind it, it needed the boys. When she finished, the group was quiet until they weren’t.

“Man, you can sing”

“Didn’t think that you would write something like that, you usually sound so sweet”

“So do you think you can do anything with it” she asked hopefully, she was feeling like she was floating from all the kind words they were saying.

“Uh-uh you got work to do” Eddie joked, stopping her hands as she attempted to put the guitar down, “show me and then we can try it” he nodded, the others picking up their own instruments ready for their instructions.

By the time she left on Saturday evening her song had already started to sound the way she’d pictured it, not that she would do anything with the song apart from maybe ask the guys if they didn’t mind her recording it to keep for herself. Or at least that’s what she thought anyway because come lunch on Monday they were asking her if she wanted to perform with them at The Hideout as a one off. She was unsure at first, one because the song wasn’t ready although unbeknownst to her, they had gotten together the Sunday to practise some more until they believed it was and secondly because she had never performed on stage like that, despite their reassurances that the audience consisted of five drunks.

She gave in though and come the following night as she stepped into The Hideout with the rest of the band that it wasn’t just going to be the usual crowd of drunks, all of them surprised including the staff behind the bar as it had never been this packed on a Tuesday night. Though from the chatter it became clear she was the reason, apparently word had spread that Jason Carver’s ex was performing with Corroded Coffin and everyone, including Jason himself had been curious enough to see the show.

“You can perform with us every week if this is the crowd we are going to get” Jeff laughed gleefully as they stood side stage, preparing to go on.

Eddie agreed but now wasn’t the time for her to hear it as she stood, nervously beside him, her hands fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt as her breaths came out short and fast. He feared she was going to have a panic attack so he tried to think of something, anything to get her mind off performing even if just for a minute. He didn’t have much but sliding off his jacket and laying it over the amp next to him he shrugged off his plaid shirt, manipulating the fabric so that he could wrap it around her waist.

His unexpected touch startled her, making her jump as his hands worked. “Eddie wh-what are you doing” she asked softly, glancing around to see if the others were watching, not that it would have changed anything.

“You gotta look the part, sweetheart” he winked, finishing the knot in the arms of the shirt before pulling his leather jacket back on, “much more metal now” he nodded, a smile working his way across her face as she mumbled out a thanks before it were time for them to go on.

They had decided beforehand to keep her song until last, which she was kind of regretting now considering the size of the audience was much bigger than they’d anticipated, she’d rather get up there first and get it done with. That doesn’t mean to say that she won’t relish in the look on Jason’s face when he realises that it’s about him.

Watching from the side of the stage as the band played their heart out, hoping to make an impression on those in the crowd that has them coming back, she could see the looks on their face how much they enjoyed it, they all looked like natural performers to her and she just hoped it rubbed off on her when it was finally time to go on.

Hearing Eddie say her name, she wiped her clammy palms on her jeans trying to avoid Eddie’s shirt though she assumed he wouldn’t mind if she did accidently considering it would be a lot sweatier if he’d continued to wear it. Eddie flashed her a warm smile as she made her way up to centre stage where he was making quick work of lowering his mic stand for her since he was quite a bit taller than her and when that was done, he nodded to the band to give them the go ahead before they launched into her song.

It started slow, Eddie’s guitar and the slow beat of Gareth’s drums;

I’ve never been one of the crazy ones Never been the girl to leave you like thirty missed calls I’m not a villain but you made me one So I’m throwing knives at pictures of your face on the wall It seems like boys like you all love to say That chicks like me are just insane But boys like you give men a shitty name So let’s play a game

As the chorus kicked in, the whole band began playing as she finally felt comfortable, jumping around like she’d seen Eddie do a few times as she allowed herself to get lost in the song.

Where I throw a little brick through your pretty little face You’re easy on the eyes but you’re easier to hate An angels gonna fall if you come around If my names still on your tongue then I’ll rip it out Since I’m already the bad guy in your head I’ll hit you with my car and I’ll leave you for dead I’ve always like the view from the high road But baby for you I’ll be a psycho

She could see the surprised looks on faces in the crowd and no doubt by the end of this there would be rumours that she had been corrupted by Eddie and joined his 'cult’ but she really could care less as this was the most fun she’d had for such a long time.

Maybe you’ll end up in a body bag If I can’t have you then nobody can Cause I watch all the documentaries I know just where to hide it I’ll put you in a box six feet deep And wait till you wake up inside it

Searching the crowd of familiar faces as she sings through the chorus again until she finds the one person whose reaction she wanted to see, locking eyes with him for the next two lines just to mess with him;

I’ve never been one of the crazy ones I’m not a villain but you make it so damn fun

Breaking eye contact as the chorus comes in one final time, this time her eyes find Eddie who is smiling wildly beside her. The adrenaline coursing through her veins is like nothing she’s ever felt before and it’s making her want to do something crazy, she just hopes that the crazy thing she is thinking of is not going to be something she’s going to regret. As the music fades around her, the song coming to an end, she reaches for Eddie who envelopes her in his arms as if it’s nothing though when she presses her lips to his, his whole body tenses. Realising what a huge mistake she’s just made, she’s off and running down the steps and through the back door, not even stopping when she gets outside. She just keeps running until she’s home, out of breath but home safe away from her mistake.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson #angst with a happy ending #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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afewproblems · 2 months

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WIP Weekend! (Starting Early)

Is it even considered a Psych Fic if there is not an obligatory rewrite of Henry arresting Shawn? Here is a snippet from my newest WIP for the Psych fandom. We goin' for angst people! (How can I not, it's my bread and butter!)

"Shawn swallows hard as his dad steps up beside him and sighs, long and low.

“Do you understand what you did tonight?” Henry says slowly, “how serious it is?”

Shawn stops himself from rolling his eyes but it's a near thing, “is it still considered grand theft auto if we only went a mile?”

Henry laughs once, a sharp puff of air without humor, somehow it's worse than if he would just yell. His dad looks at Shawn for another beat before he finally seems to make a decision. Henry squares his broad shoulders and reaches out to grab Shawn roughly by the shirt once again, dragging him off of the bench and hauling him to his feet with a squawk.

“Shawn Spencer,” Henry says firmly, “you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can be held against you in a court of law--”

“What?!” Shawn says as he nearly stumbles with the force that his dad is moving forward with, one hand on his shirt and the other tightly circled around Shawns upper arm.

“You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed to you,” Henry continues as if Shawn had said nothing. He doesn't look at Shawn as they make their way to the unmarked station wagon.

“Dad--”

Henry lets go of Shawns shirt, leaving the fabric stretched and nearly torn and opens the back car door. With the same free hand he presses firmly on Shawn's head, pushing him into the back seat.

“Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?” Henry says stiffly standing in front of the open car door.

“What no handcuffs,” Shawn bites out, his chest rises and falls quickly as anger and hurt swirl and thrum against his ribcage, “gee Dad I always knew you were a softy”.

Henry slams the car door without another word before making his way around to the driver's side. The vehicle sags as Henry slides into the driver's seat.

The radio comes to life, the first few notes of Every Breath You Take plays over the sound system only for Henry to slam his hand down on the volume knob before the true irony of the song can be appreciated.

The familiar drive to the station feels so much longer in the heavy silence that hangs in the car. Shawn looks into the rearview mirror every now and again, trying to catch his dads angry gaze but Henry keeps his eyes on the road, his expression stony.

When they finally pull into the station, Henry parks the car and sits for a moment, Shawn watches as his dad takes a deep breath before turning off the engine, he hasn't said a word since reading Shawn his rights, it's unnerving to say the least.

He expects his dad to rail against him the whole way down to the station, to tear another strip off him like he had back at Lookout Point but Henry merely leaves the driver's seat, walks around the vehicle to grab Shawn, and walks him through the double doors of the station.

Henry's hand is loose around Shawns arm, rather than the bruising grip from earlier when his dad hauled him off the car. For a wild moment, Shawn considers making a run for it.

“Listen,” Henry says after a beat, he stops their march to the desk sergeant and pulls Shawn aside into the hall, “if that boy put you up to this, I can get that squad car to turn around--”

“Tony didn't put me up to anything, don't--he's not--he's going to Princeton next year and he doesn't need m--” Shawn nearly stumbles trying to catch the words before they escape. He swallows hard against the lump in his throat and feels his eyes begin to sting, the threat of tears that has been building since red and blue lights lit up the night makes Shawn wish the floor of the station would open up and swallow him whole.

Henry stares at Shawn now with narrowed eyes, the longer he looks the more it feels like being dissected, assessed.

He realizes his mistake too late to backtrack, not taking the out from his dad he always wished for, the benefit of the doubt was a trap.

Then Henry's eyes land on Shawn's neck, where the collar of his shirt has been stretched, where the beginnings of a small red hickey have started forming.

Shit.

Shawn tries to lift his hand to cover the mark but he's not fast enough to stop his dad from smacking his arm away with one hand while the other opens his shirt collar even more.

Shawn watches a myriad of expressions move across his dads face, before settling on something resembling disappointment. He's not sure how long they stay like that before Henry slowly begins to shake his head.

“Jesus,” Henry breathes out weakly, “first the car and now,” he drops his hands away from Shawn and takes a step back, “as if we don't have enough to worry about, you're--you're carrying on with some boy like a, like a--”

“Like a what, dad, huh?” Shawn says hoarsely, he balls both hands into firsts to hide the way they shake.

While he hadn't been sure what to expect from his dad, despite Gus’ insistence that he should just tell Henry the truth, some small part of Shawn had hoped that his reaction wouldn't sting this much.

His dad says nothing, looking around as though his head is on a swivel, not that he needs to worry. The station is quiet save for a few night shift officers milling around, Shawn can vaguely hear the desk sergeant chatting on the phone about her weekend plans.

“This is going to kill your mother,” Henry says, wiping a heavy hand down his face and taking another step back.

Will be posting the full fic hopefully this weekend! Let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged in the full post! @adaed5 I know it's just a snippet but I remember you wanted me to tag you! 😊

#afewproblems writes #psych fanfiction #psych #wip weekend #shawn spencer #henry spencer #cw period typical homophobia #henry spencer is not a good dad #shawn spencer whump #hurt shawn spencer #psych canon divergence #bisexual shawn spencer #this fic is a little self indulgent but i deserve a treat

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frownyalfred · 7 months

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If this too much or too personal please ignore!

But I was just wondering if you had any advice for grieving? (I lost a close family member very recently)

I'm so sorry for your loss, anon. I don't know your exact situation, but I hope your loved one's memory is a blessing to you and your family. I'll leave my thoughts below the break, since I'll discuss death and dying a little.

I am, as many people on here likely know, still grieving the loss of my father. It was sudden and unexpected. It was bloody and somewhat traumatic for our family. Thinking about it still leaves me dazed and unfocused.

Grieving is such a strange process. I've been talking about it with my therapist weekly, and her main takeaway has been that there is no right way to do it -- and that it is far from linear. There are positive moments and regressions. There are funny memories and difficult truths to grapple with. There is anger, confusion, sadness. Despair. So many unanswered questions and moments that hover on the edge of veneration simply because they are the only ones you have left.

How did I grieve? I cried a lot, at first. I took off work and sat shiva with my family. I answered a thousand well-meaning messages and played one singular song on repeat on my phone. I barely slept. I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. I woke up crying without remembering exactly what I had been dreaming about.

Then, as if in reprieve, my brain let up. I slept somewhat normally again. My body was no longer on the edge of tears at any given moment, nor was I entirely numb. Slowly, I began to think of normal things again; new television shows, updating a chapter, irritation at the banal things like traffic and work.

And anon, I thought to myself, this must be it. I'm no longer "grieving," or at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I was eating, sleeping, going to the gym and work, updating my works and hitting the club again on the weekends.

But I wasn't done. And I'm not sure I ever will be. I wanted to be done, in so many ways. I was mad at my father for dying, for making me grieve, for keeping me in this state where I couldn't be confident in anything I was feeling, any progress I was making. Where I could remain silent and resolute at his burial, but sob like a baby in my apartment when the concert t-shirt he gave me was stained by some soup.

But that's a lot to put on the dead. And sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that -- that he is dead, that there is a gap in my life I keep trying to skip over, like avoiding tonguing at the aching tooth in the back of my mouth. And when I forget, the world is more than glad to remind me, whether through well-meaning neighbors, colleagues, etc etc.

I suppose that's a long way of saying, I think I'm still grieving anon. I'm not sure I'm doing the best at it, active or involuntary as this process seems to be. I have an amazing support network, but so much of this work seems to be solitary, even when someone is sitting right next to you, crying with you.

The Jewish saying "May their memory be a blessing" has been a good focal point for me, I think. It dovetails nicely with the Mandalorian saying "Not gone, merely marching far away." I've thought about both a lot in the last few months, because I'm a huge nerd and also because I don't think the cultures are too dissimilar.

Let your loved one's memory be a blessing in your life, anon. Remember the happy moments, and speak them out loud if you're able. Don't let their name remain sacred. Don't sanctify them, for we are all humans and humans are complicated, but don't leave their life behind you.

Those memories of them, those funny moments and sad days, fun trips and strange conflicts, those are all yours now. No one else has them. And when you and your family are gone, those memories are gone too.

Other small things that have made this whole process easier: Starbucks and DoorDash giftcards (seriously, some days are too hard), letting myself take time off hobbies (gym/writing) without penalizing myself, naming my grief and allowing myself to sit in it (I'm sad today about x, and I want to lie down for a few hours. I'm lying down because I'm feeling sad about x, and I'm allowed to feel that way). Going to the gym and running until the natural endorphins help. Talking with my families about good and complicated moments with my dad. Writing, when I'm able. Reminding myself it's okay to not be very functional, that it's okay to not be perfect and you would never expect someone who is grieving to be so. Talking to a therapist and getting treatment for what I experienced. Accepting the kind words of others, even if they hurt or are unintentionally difficult.

I'm sorry you're going through this anon. I know how you feel, or at least some of what you feel. I hope you have support and loved ones around you who can help shoulder some of this process.

<3 Jay

#tw grief #tw death #tw dying #tw grieving #personal #about me #forgive me for being terribly emotional and personal for a moment #asks #anon

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ghastigiggles · 11 months

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trickle down

RAAAAAAHHHH WOMEN!!! Furina Content for the hungry masses, apologies that it's not longer. I was very inspired by a particular post and speedran this at like 4 in the morning.

Finally. Women in the Genshin Content tag. Let's Go Lesbians

usual disclaimer; safe-for-work tickling content ahead, very cute, very fluffy - also very vague 4.2 spoilers? but you wouldn't get it without context so it should be okay for the uninitiated o7

Being human comes with a lot of fun little quirks.

Furina loves being human.

Furina does not, however, quite enjoy the prideful appearance she's been forced to keep for so long – so it's very nice and refreshing to finally have more and more friends at her side to drop that guard around.

At least, it's certainly nicer for Clorinde to no longer be alone in suffering Furina's drama, because –

"Would y – eeEEeeh! Ahaha – help mehehe already…!"

Paimon shuffled awkwardly in the air, glancing towards the Champion Duellist.

"Should we, um, do something…?"

"No. Let it run its course… She'll be fine."

Lumine snorted softly, biting down her smile in an attempt to look as bemused as Clorinde when Paimon looked over haplessly. Before the three of them, taking advantage of their relative privacy and distance from society, was poor Lady Furina, her arms held above her head by Gentilhomme Usher – thus allowing Surintendante Chevalmarin and Mademoiselle Crabaletta to pinch and prod at her torso, sending her into the undignified fit of giggles she was in now.

( very necessary A/N; the names of furina's staff are needlessly complicated even for a french speaker. sweet jesus. )

"Ahaha – y-you – yohohou are cruel! How c-cohould you fff – ahaha! – forsahake me this way?!"

"Lady Furina has a habit of, er…. Well, this," Clorinde explained poorly, nodding her head towards the scene with a tired look; "I gave up on actually helping after the first dozen repeat offenses."

The traveling pair nodded, exchanging a mildly amused look between themselves as Paimon took over replying for them both.

"Don't worry, we get it… We've got a few friends who are very similar, ehe…!"

Lumine nodded as well, turning her gaze back to Furina's song and dance. From the way her legs shook, it seemed like she'd collapse if Usher released her arms; and though she was flushed in the face, she also seemed genuinely happy…

It made the traveler's fingers itch, and she hummed, glancing towards her fairy friend.

"Hey, Paimon – since we're just waiting, why don't you and Clorinde scout up ahead? I'll stay here to keep her safe if anything creeps up on us."

"But…"

Paimon started to object, but shut her jaw with an audible click when their gazes met, her eyes widening with sudden understanding. Offering a more nervous smile, Paimon nodded quickly, whipping back to Clorinde.

"... R-right! Come on, miss Clorinde!"

"Right. Shout if you need help."

Almost grateful for the out, Clorinde marched up the path, Paimon hovering just beside her as she went. Lumine watched until they disappeared through a few trees before approaching the giddy Furina, waving her arms to shoo away her staff members.

"Alright, that's enough…"

"... Haah, ahah… ah –!"

Abruptly, they disappeared with a burst of bubbles, and, as predicted, Furina collapsed entirely, opting to commit entirely to the fall and flop back onto the grass, her hat rolling away when she landed.

"Ahh, ow… haah, you could've been faster with the save, you know…"

"Oh, please, you could've gotten yourself out of it anytime," Lumine giggled, crouching beside the Chief Justice and savouring the flustered glare her comment got.

"Y-yes, well! Perhaps I was testing your friendship – looking to see how fast you would save me if I was in dire straits!"

"Oh, you're testing something, alright…"

The traveler shifted, somehow managing to straddle Furina where she lay before she had a chance to react – though it was less than graceful, with how their skirts overlapped. Furina stared up at Lumine with shock, stammering wordlessly while the blonde traveler smiled, a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

"I've got a question for you, Lady Furina – in operas, how much do you enjoy twist villains?"

"... Oh," Furina squeaked finally, her cheeks red – though her next words made Lumine soften the act a bit; "I – I, um… You're really…?"

"Yeah. Unless you don't want me to?"

"N-no! I mean – yes? I – mngh…"

The verbal stumbling made Lumine laugh, and Furina huffed petulantly, squirming in place with a thoroughly flustered expression.

"Just… Stop when I say so, okay?!"

"Promise. I won't push it."

Furina hesitated, gauging Lumine's sincerity before letting out a soft breath and nodding – only to tense when the traveler dug her fingers into her sides, wasting no time to profit off of the okay.

"Now, let's see how loud you can really sing…"

"AahhaaaAAH – Wait wait wahahait –!"

As Clorinde and Paimon rounded the bend again, they were greeted with Lumine helping a very breathless-looking Furina to her feet, slinging an arm around her shoulders to support the wobbly-legged damsel with an amused look to their companions.

"Unfortunately, Madameoiselle Crabaletta did a number on her… I think we might have to give up on the rest of this trip."

Clorinde sighed haplessly, shaking her head; "It's alright… It wouldn't be the first time. Come on, let's get back to the city…"

"... Haah, haah… S-sorry, everyone…"

Paimon giggled, collecting Furina's hat from the ground as they began their trek homeward and trying it on her own head, giving Lumine a knowing side-eye.

"It's okay! Paimon had fun anyway! What about you, Traveler?"

"Yeah – lots of fun. We should do this again soon."

Lumine grinned, drumming her fingers against Furina's side where they rested just to make her flinch and giggle, leaning into the traveler a little harder and ducking down to hide a giddy smile.

Furina loves being human – especially now that she has proper friends to be human with.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin tickles #furina #clorinde #lumine #paimon #lee!furina #ler!lumine #ler!tea party...????#oh my god. women.#trying to be the change i want to see in the genshin content tag #ive had ENOUGH of all your little gayboys and husbandos or whatever. what about the GIRLS #what about the CUTIE PIES #yeah neuvillette as a lee is cute or whatever but listen. arlecchino #uh huh uh huh wriothesley yeah yeah FURINA #ALSO NAVIA IS RIGHT THERE!!!!!!!!!#coughs. anyway #my fic

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nayeonline · 6 months

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Ari's K-Pop Roundup: March 2024 (ILLIT, ARTMS, CHUNGHA, VCHA + MORE)

Check out last months installment here :) sidenote: sorry about this episode being a bit heavy on the smaller reviews - have been experiencing a cruel and unusual combination of illness and exam season lol - next month will hopefully be slightly better

Magnetic - ILLIT (SUPER REAL ME)

Whether you watched HYBE's 2023 idol survival show 'R U Next?' or you had the self preservation to skip it, if you were into k-pop at that time, you definitely heard about it. The show gained attention from the community originally because it was from HYBE, the newest, and arguably currently the most influential k-pop company goliath, and because HYBE's girl groups (notably Le Sserafim and NewJeans) are famous for influencing the kpop scene instantly upon debut, and maintaining their spots in the top 10s of the charts for many months. This was HYBE giving us a look behind the curtain at the making of the next big girl group, and letting us call a lot of the shots along the way. Or at least that's what it was supposed to be. Rigging in these type of idol shows is practically expected, but HYBE was a new offender, and their crimes weren't only frequent, but pretty obvious. The fans protested, but nothing changed. ILLIT, the group that emerged on the other side, was a group that was hardly a showcase of the talent on display on the show, nor a reflection of the fans and their biases. It was a reflection of who the producers felt fit their pre-established concept for the group, an influencing factor that wasn't made clear to the fans watching, nor potentially, to the idols participating. Ironically, since the whole point of a survival show is to drum up support and build a fanbase for a group's upcoming debut, ILLIT has arguably started off on a worse foot than if they had just dropped 'Magnetic' on YouTube out of nowhere, NewJeans 'Attention' style.

However, regardless of their rocky start, ILLIT is here, with their debut mini album 'SUPER REAL ME', featuring the title track 'Magnetic' - let's talk about it. 'Magnetic' capitalizes on that glitchy, 8-bit, distorted, bedroom pop sound that's been blowing up recently, both in the k-pop industry by NewJeans, LOONA, and tripleS, and in the western space by Pinkpantheress. It's easily catchy, and highly danceable, and the members sound amazing on it - I felt especially drawn to Minju's delivery, her vocal tone is beautifully unique, and Wonhee did a stellar job as the centric member of the choruses. Magnetic's allusions to NewJeans are undeniable, if only lacking that certain NewJeans je ne sais quoi. I don't really have a problem with this, if I get more fun songs out of groups allegedly 'copying' NewJeans then it's a win for me, my only fear is that if ILLIT doesn't find their own niche they will be called knock-off NewJeans for the rest of their careers, which isn't fair to the girls. TripleS got accused of something similar back with AAA's 'Generation', but since then they have carved out a space for themselves in the industry, making music and exploring aesthetics others aren't.

As for the b-sides, I was kind of obsessed with 'My World', even though it is functionally an intro; it's such an unexpected earworm. 'Midnight Fiction' is cute, even if I think it needed another hook or layer of production to elevate it more. 'Lucky Girl Syndrome' is slightly better than 'Midnight Fiction', but a bit worse than 'Magnetic'. It's very obvious that the title came before the track, and it bizarrely sounds kind of like 'Sensitive' by Loossemble? The chorus is slightly weak, but I am obsessed with the instrumentation and the production choices - this song sounds nothing like NewJeans, I really hope they draw from this vibe in their future releases.

Overall, a pretty decent debut. You will definitely catch me streaming 'Magnetic' over the next few weeks, whether it will have the longevity to stick around in my playlist for longer remains to be seen. Good luck ILLIT, you've had a rough start in the industry, but it's clear that they have a big career ahead of them, and I for one, am seated.

Pre1: Birth - ARTMS [LOONA] (Dall)

After an iconic run of Haseul and Heejin's solo projects, as well as ODD EYE CIRCLE's first release out of BBC, 5/12 of the LOONA girls are here as ARTMS. 'Birth' is a song that operates outside of the conventions of kpop formulae; its experimental, confrontational, melancholy and bears an undercurrent of rage. Tonally and structurally it is unique from anything being released right now, and lyrically its compelling and mysterious. If this is a taste of what the upcoming album is going to sound like, I am extremely excited.

The music video is one of the best kpop has to offer - its so unlike anything else I have seen. I heavily encourage you all to go check out the theories the orbits/ouriis have been cooking up because LOONA LORE IS BACK!! I am very curious if the loossemble lore will link to this in any way, but that remains to be seen.

EENIE MEENIE - CHUNG HA, feat. HONGJOONG

Chungha is back, with a new company and an old concept. I'm not sure how to feel about this track, its clear she feels very confident in this style and it does suit her more than 'Sparkling', but I think 'Sparkling' was overall a better song. The production of 'Eenie Meenie' is very high quality and I especially loved that guitar layer in the chorus, and bringing Hongjoong in for a verse was a great call, he fits the song and matches Chungha's vibe perfectly. Unfortunately however, I don't find the chorus to be very catchy, which is clearly what the song is banking on in order to chart. The whole 'eenie meenie minie mo' thing is odd, but honestly could have been worse if this song had been given to anyone other than Chungha, the real death sentence for this song was the lack of interesting melody. I'm happy that Chungha is now making the kind of music she wants to, I just hope that the quality of releases go up in the future.

Only One - VCHA

Who knew that when Fifty Fifty crumbled due to their (allegedly) god awful company, it would be VCHA of all groups to successfully pick up the retro girlpop gauntlet?? 'Only One' is genuinely so fun, that post chorus is a killer, and even the mildly awkward writing clears up after the first verse. The girls have such great chemistry, and they are all genuinely improving their skills every comeback, and although I may have questioned JYP's decision to debut girls who had barely been in training, seeing the girls improve in real time is lowkey actually a selling point - like now I want to pay attention to them to see how good they are going to get?? JYP making an intelligent marketing decision?? In this economy?? Congratulations VCHA, you have officially established yourself as a force to be reckoned with, KATSEYE had better bring the heat when they debut to compete with this.

MINI REVIEWS:

Get Goin' - aespa: did you know this song existed? no! Is it surprisingly really fun? well yes! not sure what aespa has to do with fraggle rock, but if it takes Apple TV spamming SM Entertianment's dms to get aespa to release more music, then that's what must be done.

The knight who can't die and the silk cradle - LUCY: (req. by @a-moth-to-the-light) I've always been mildly aware of LUCY, but until my moot requested I review their latest release, I had never heard any of their songs. Needless to say, I was severely impressed. This song is so cinematic and heartfelt - to my knowledge it isn't part of an OST to a particularly cinematic kdrama, but it might as well be. I heavily encourage you all to go watch the mv with subtitles on, or read the translation, because lyrically this is a masterpiece. LUCY, you have officially caught my attention, I will be checking out future releases.

Paths to home - 문채원, HOWUS: The music video for this song, at time of writing, currently has 147 views, I have no clue how I stumbled across it, but I am so glad I did. 'Paths to home' is a beautifully constructed and performed citypop inspired track that to me evokes LOONA's early discography, especially those from Hyunjin's solo project. It is so perfectly constructed to my tastes, I love it to death. I have no idea how 'HOWUS' as a project works, I don't know if it's a group, a company, a subunit, or apparently even when it was released because according to some websites it came out in 2022 (the struggles of extremely nugu kpop cannot be understated), but what I do know is that this song deserves more attention, and I adore it. This is one for the NewJeans, LOONA yyxy, tripleS +(KR)ystal Eyes girlies.

Wish You Hell - WENDY (Red Velvet): SM finally gave Wendy a song that isn't a ballad!!! This song is pretty fun, but I wish it bit more oomph. The lyrics leave much to be desired, but Wendy's vocal performance is naturally very high quality, although I wish she went a bit harder in some sections - she's singing about wishing someone hell, but tonally it sounds like she's serenading them lol. A fun song, could have been better with another few drafts. Seulgi's 'best Red Velvet solo project' crown is yet to slip.

BBB - Purple Kiss: I will never shut the fuck up about how good 'Zombie' is, so seeing them explore similar sounds is so exciting for me!! 'BBB' is a very easy going listen, never awkward, never unpleasant, and although I think it needed a little something more to elevate it, it's a fun song I could easily see myself loving this summer. Swan absolutely ate up this comeback btw.

XXL - YOUNG POSSE: Bizarre sfx aside, I am very glad young posse is attempting to bring back 2000s hip hop into kpop, even if the execution is mildly clunky.

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Vegas Calling

very short, very sweet but has gotten me out of my writing slump so success! spoiler alert: the plot is heavily inspired by linda’s tale of elvis telling her he’s bought her a unique ring, and then giving it to sheila and buying her a boring tennis bracelet and pretending that was always the intended gift. but uhhh because this is my fic, and reader is totally, completely, absolutely not based on me, it’s a happier ending.

Loosely based on this prompt: “You will love it” “I will hate it” “Nah, you won’t.” warning: this is unedited.

Reader x elvis 1975 (takes place during the march/april vegas engagement)

wc: 2.4k of a single phone call. let me know if you want a follow-up of reader in vegas!!

@whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 (on this note - I never know who to tag in these little one-shots so let me know if you want to be tagged in future!)

It had been a long ten days already, Elvis had left you behind, asking that you just “let [him] get all settled in, hon, then you can come on out and cheer me up.” You didn’t question it - or question the kind of settling he was expecting would be required. It had been a mere six months since his last residency, and by now it was a pretty smoothly run operation. But then, you were both well aware of what he really meant when he asked someone - or really, you specifically -to not come out to Vegas. It likely meant he’d already requested some sparkly little two week wonder to join him. But, you knew his schedule better than everyone, and you knew full well that at the moment he didn’t really have time to be messing about with anyone else, or at least, not in any meaningful way. From what he’d been saying he’d been embroiled in rehearsals for the first few days - time he now claims, fed-up, that was wasted - busy even before the twisted schedule of his show routine started. All in all it meant he’d barely had time to chat, and you were desperate for his call tonight when he’d promised he’d have more of a chance to talk - but more of a chance didn’t mean any earlier, after-all he still had to get through two shows before he could relax and the two hour time difference between Vegas and Graceland felt a lot longer at 2 and 4am respectively.

The phone rings insistently, and you blearily rush to pick it up, unsure how long it had been ringing for while you woke up and panicked that he may hang up if you didn’t get to it fast enough. He’d not been very happy two days earlier when you’d missed his call - his mood swinging from annoyance into being downright teary the following day. You were sure that some other source had been to blame for the extreme emotion, although part of you had hoped it was simply how much he’d loved you, and while you hoped it never got back to him you’d been worried enough about him that you’d called Joe directly to ask him to check in.

“Hullo Elvis baby,” You breathed down the line, still blinking awake. He breathes a little laugh back at you, fondly,

“Hey sweetheart,” He pauses, “That how you always answer the phone?” You’re still not fully awake and you can’t think of anything clever to say in response so you have to settle for a simple,

“Maybe…but… I knew it was you.”

“Better have - You haven’t been givin’ out my special number have you?” It was indeed, very special, his own little hotline straight to you.

“No!” you laugh down the phone,

“Better not - or you’ll be in trou-ble,” he sing-songs it down the line and you giggle back at him,

“I swear! Hey - how’d the shows go tonight?” He pauses, and you can hear the sound of others in the background,

“Oh you know. Same as always, nothing to write home about.” He’s never particularly talkative about these shows - not like he can be on tour, but he normally has some funny anecdote about a woman climbing the tables, or a lyric fudged, or even a joke one of the boys made - he’s not normally totally reluctant to share.

“No?” He doesn’t seem to hear you - distracted, talking to someone else, and you can hear a tittering giggle accompany Joe’s characteristic cackling laugh while you wait for his attention back. You try not to assess it too much or spend any time deliberating who’s wife or girlfriend that might be. You know the others pretend not to know, Joan and Pat and Judy and all the others all turning a blind eye to their own husbands’ many indiscretions and pretending to each other there’s nothing to know. But…Elvis could never keep a secret, and you were more looped into the gossip than any of them probably knew - it made it a tad tricky when you had to pretend to the other steady wives and girlfriends, and you had been so proud of being a girls-girl, the type that wouldn’t have put up with hiding this kinda thing before Elvis - but, ultimately, you didn’t believe any of them truly had no idea - or that they weren’t willingly pretending. And more than anything the potential to be lying in bed, curled up on Elvis’ chest, giggling and gossiping about the ins & outs of the mafia’s relationships was worth more to you than being friends with any of them. None of this made you feel any better about being confronted with the possibility of Elvis distracted by a different girl.

“Elvis?” You question again,

“Uh-huh?” Still distracted, you don’t know what to say other than,

“Is now a bad time?”

“Naw, now why would you think that?” He sounds a little annoyed, short with you, although at least you now have his full attention.

“No -no, no reason. Just wanted to check you could talk.”

“Wouldn’t have called otherwise, would I?” It feels a little like he’s riling you up, and you can’t tell if it's your sleepy state that makes you quick to annoy or if he really is intentionally trying to be a little mean.

“Of course not,” You rapidly try to change the subject, “I really miss you.” You weren’t trying to manipulate him, but you can’t pretend it doesn’t please you when you can hear him call out in the background;

“Go on, yeah, no - no, all of you -go on, clear on out! I’ll be fine, go on.” You can hear the sounds of the guys all rapidly leaving, and then, finally, there’s a momentary lapse before Elvis picks up his bedroom phone, you can hear him breathe down the line, and a little grunt as you hear the bedcovers rustle about.

“Go on then yittle, tell me that again,” You squirm under your own covers, his voice just low and deep and rough enough to make your stomach flip.

“I - I miss you Elvis, I really do, I-I-I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Do ya?”

“Uh-huh, I do,” There’s not much point now to try and play it cool but still you give it a go, lasting all of five seconds before gushing, “I can’t wait to come out there. I’ve been thinking about it all week, can’t wait to see you again.”

“Oh, ba-by, I can’t wait to have you out here either…” You can hear the smile in his voice, “What do you think about - when you’re thinking about me?”

“Oh god,” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, even though you know it’s just the two of you,

“Go on, honey, you can tell me.” He has to know what he’s doing, emphasizing his accent and tone.

“Oh Elvis” You hate how breathy and girlish you already sound, but from his fond chuckle he’s agreeable to it and that makes you feel confident enough to keep talking, “Everything, oh, just everything - there’s, there’s just so much to think about…”

“Well if you hadta pick?” He’s teasing you, but you can hear the affectionate tone in it - he’s digging for compliments more than anything.

“Oh well, if I had to, I guess… I mean, maybe sometimes I might think about your voice…”

“My voice?” He intentionally lowers it, “You like my voice baby?” and you giggle, fidgeting one foot against the other, rolling the sheets between them.

“Yeah-huh, your voice, and your…” You try not to be too shy, “your, well, I guess your face,” Elvis laughs, slightly taken aback at the pronouncement.

“My face?” You can still hear the smile in his voice, and you decide to do the best to make him laugh again.

“Yeah your cute little face, and, and your cute little butt.” He roars with laughter,

“Ain’t so little ‘ccording to the reviews.” It’s the kind of comment he means light-heartedly, but one that could turn the conversation dire if you don’t have quite the correct response - and it's a lot harder to reassure him that you like every part of him when you can’t touch and show him just how much. You keep the conversation joking, hoping he’ll laugh it off.

“Notice you don’t protest the cute.”

“Well now, honey, I ain’t a liar.” You can hear him shake his head and despite the fact that you’re alone in the room you bury your grin into your pillow, “I miss you too darling girl,” and then almost shyly, “I got you a present today.”

“A present?” You peek out from the pillow, twisting the cord around your finger, “What kind of present?”

“You’ll love it, I promise, doll, it’s just gorgeous - it’s the most unique lookin’ ring I’ve ever seen. Got a huge ol’ red stone right there, next to some diamonds - but all twisted and natural like - it looks totally, totally, organic.”

You feel your tummy flip, he’d promised you similar things before that had never materialized - given away perhaps before you made it to his door, and you’ve not been seeing him long - only a couple of months, and it sounds expensive - probably too expensive.

“Oh - oh Elvis, it sounds lovely, but that’s, that’s too much - I’ll, I’ll hate it - having to worry about wearin’ it and all that…I’ve never, never had diamonds before and you’ve already given me those earrings - and, and my necklace - I’d hate having to worry about them on my fingers.”

“Nah you won’t darling, just trust me - it’s lovely - it’ll look lovely on your little soft hands, you’ve got them softest hands I’ve ever felt.” You were about to protest more, but his voice had dipped down, imploring you to listen.

“Do I?”

“Uh-huh, lil soft hands that deserve to be treated.”

“It's just, it’s just a lot E - I really don’t think -”

“Look why don’t you just wait and see when it gets delivered tomorrow - you’ll be here by then won’t you? You can tell me then.” He’s trying to change the subject, but you still feel guilty, and you just need him to know that you like him for more than just his excessive gifts.

“Well, ok, but you didn’t have-” Elvis growls, cutting you off, tone sharpening as he speaks.

“I aint gotta do a damn thing, I’ve not got a gun to my head - if I wanna buy you a thousand rings I will.” You squirm, while you feel uncomfortable at the concept of the sheer dollar amount he’s suggesting he’d spend on you, you can’t deny the little thrill it gives you. “Think I’ve earnt the right to treat whoever I like to whatever I goddamn want.”

“Of course, I was-“ You try to backtrack.

“Good, because I picked it out special - couldn’t wait to give it to ya, wanted to give it to my sweet yittle grateful babydoll - not have to listen to you bitch and moan ‘bout it.”

“I’m not Elvis…I swear - it sounds,” you give in, sighing “It sounds lovely, I can’t wait.”

“Uh-huh.” He huffs,

“I mean it, I promise.”

“Well…you’ll see it tomorrow. I’ll give it to you then…”

“I really can’t wait… I can’t wait to see it, and I can’t wait to see you - It’s been so hard.” He sighs,

“I know darling, I shouldn’t have left you behind, all on your own. Wasn’t - it wasn’t fair on you.” He pauses, “You know there wasn’t one damn reason why you couldn’t have come with me.”

“Oh.” That was a surprise to hear, and you weren’t one hundred percent convinced of the honesty of the statement. “You don’t, - you don’t have to lie to me, if, if your plans fell through - it’s, it’s okay, I promise.”

“No sweetheart, you’re not listening, don’t,” You can picture him shaking his head, “ don’t make it to be something else - I never made any other plans.”

“Oh, well, I - next time I’ll come with you right away.”

“I’d like that.” It’s abrupt and gruff, and you can tell he means it - probably more than he means the babytalk or the gifts. He yawns and you can practically hear his jaw through the phone, reminding you it's late for him, and later for you, although at least you’d had some sleep before the call.

“Elvis…do you…is there anything you miss about me?”

“Miss about you?” He questions again, and you can hear him shift lower down the sheets, picturing himself settling against the pillows, phone tucked into the crook of his shoulder.

“Uh-huh?”

“Well, well, that’s easy, honey, I-I,” His voice is slowing, and you wonder at what point in the call he took his sleep aid. “I - miss, miss everything about you.” You consider if it’s ridiculous to feel disappointed he doesn’t bother to specify further.

“Everything?” He snuffles, heavy breathing traveling down the line. “Elvis - everything?” You can tell the question practically wakes him up,

“Miss, miss your cute little lips, and, and your - god, honey, I miss your, miss your hair.”

“My hair?!” You can’t help the little screech and Elvis breathes a little laugh back at you,

“That’s right, baby, - your hair, I love your hair, it’s just,” He breathes, “It’s just perfect.” You laugh, he must be thinking of his other girlfriend who doesn’t have your wild frizzy mess.

“Anything else?”

“Well, I-I, miss your legs too, honey,” You make an encouraging hum back to him, closing your own eyes in response to his further slowing speech. “Miss getting to watch you leave a room, you’re so, god you’re so, so pretty baby, miss you so much darling.” Your thighs squeeze of their own accord, and you know he’s probably too sleepy for it but you figure it’s worth a try.

“What would you do if I were there? I-I’ll - If, I mean, if you go first, I’ll tell you what I wanna do to you right now.”

You hope your nerves at your proposition don’t convey over the phone. It doesn’t matter though, since he makes no reply. Tiny snuffling noises straight to your ear. You know it’s wrong to take advantage - since if you’d been footing the bill for it you wouldn’t dream of it but, you also knew he wouldn’t mind - and you’ve missed him beside you so much. So instead of hanging up you settle the phone against your pillow and wriggle all the way down under your covers. Closing your eyes to the sounds of his gentle snoring and sniffs, counting down the hours until you’ll be physically beside him.

#elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #smut lite #be-my-ally #big daddy elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x you #writing prompt game #elvis presley fanfiction #fic rec!!#1975 elvis

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strawberry-smog · 21 days

Text

Did Ford go through the portal in 1984?

Ok, so. If you’re in the Gravity Falls Timeline fandom, you know that, for an event that was strongly implied to have happened in 1982, there’s a surprising amount of evidence that Ford’s little portal accident happened in 1983, and that, even more surprisingly, one of the stronger pieces of evidence for this is the release date of Eurythmics’ single Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This). The song was released in January 1983 and was their first commercial success, just barely squeaking in under the wire to make Ford’s statement in the blacklight Journal 3 that he wants to hear the band’s “latest chart topper” make sense. Except… it still doesn’t?

While Sweet Dreams was first released in January 1983, this wasn’t a worldwide simultaneous release. Eurythmics was an extremely obscure British band, and the song didn’t come to America until May 1983 and didn’t peak at number one until September, both the wrong time in the year for the lake to be frozen. To be fair, the song hit number two in the UK in March and was played on Top of the Pops in February, so if you assume Ford is a British synthpop chart-watching superfan this still checks out, but we do have to consider that 1) Ford was being tormented by a demon 24/7 after McGucket’s portal incident, and was probably not in great shape to be intercepting UK TV signals and buying imported 8 tracks, and 2) Ford is a fake Eurythmics fan who always puts a “The” in front of their name even though the band is just “Eurythmics”.

The test happening in 1984 also helps make sense of a minor bit of show-journal timeline snarl, where McGucket in his memory gun tapes says that he’s been working with Ford “for the past year”. While this is just kind of obviously a retcon since he also calls Ford a “visiting researcher” despite him having lived in town way longer than McGucket, if you do try to incorporate the “year” thing into the timeline you hit a bit of a snag: McGucket arrived in July, and if this video depicts the first ever time he made the memory gun that would put it at most two months after his arrival, as the Gremloblin incident happened during the summer-fall fair season; even if you take it to be after he quit the project, this is still only a six-month timespan.

To have at least a year working on the portal, he would have to arrive in summer 1982, make the video in summer 1983, and then get his head stuck in the portal in winter 1984, which just so happens to also make sense of the Sweet Dreams thing, and from what I can tell doesn’t really conflict with anything else? The 29-years-and-several months timespan of Ford’s disappearance still makes sense to round up as thirty years, and while it makes McGucket’s assertion that he can’t remember anything prior to 1982 kind of weird, it is also kind of weird with the 1983 portal date, and there’s simply no way the portal incident could happen in 1982.

Here’s a bullet point list of the 1983 timeline vs. this 1984 timeline

1983 Portal Incident

1982

McGucket arrives on July 29th

He and Ford begin working on plans for the portal and go on their expedition to Crash Site Omega

The Gremloblin incident happens in August or September

McGucket creates his memory gun and begins recruiting for the Blind Eye shortly after, and possibly makes his first video recounting his experiments

The bunker is built and the Shifty incident happens, also still in August or September based on it being hot

Ford makes his deal to hand his body over to Bill sometime in the fall

Ford and McGucket defeat the Krampus on December 5th (Krampusnacht)

1983

The portal test happens on January 18th

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) comes out in the UK on January 23rd

Sweet Dreams reaches number 2 on the UK charts in February

Some unknown period of many weeks pass and Stan arrives in a snowstorm to push Ford into the portal

1984 Portal Incident

1982

McGucket arrives on July 29th

He and Ford begin working on plans for the portal and go on their expedition to Crash Site Omega

1983

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) comes out in the UK on January 23rd

Sweet Dreams reaches number 2 on the UK charts in February

Sweet Dreams comes out in America in May The Gremloblin incident happens in the summer or early fall

McGucket creates his memory gun and begins recruiting for the Blind Eye shortly after, and makes his first video recounting his experiments

The bunker is built and the Shifty incident happens, also still in summer or early fall based on it being hot

Sweet Dreams reaches number one on the US charts in September

Ford makes his deal to hand his body over to Bill sometime in the fall

Ford and McGucket defeat the Krampus on December 5th (Krampusnacht)

1984

The portal test happens on January 18th

Some unknown period of many weeks pass and Stan arrives in a snowstorm to push Ford into the portal

#*gets pushed into a hell dimension by my estranged twin* this is literally 1984 #GF #strawberrystuff

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rastronomicals · 2 months

Photo

4:19 AM EDT July 11, 2024:

Led Zeppelin - "Nobody's Fault But Mine" From the album Presence (March 31, 1976)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

Much in the same way that the lyrics to The Beatles' "Glass Onion" acknowledged with a nod and a reluctant wink the gnostic cult of Paul-is-Dead, the packaging of Led Zeppelin's Presence acknowledged the I'm sure at-least-somewhat-discomfitting fact that their group had long since become the most humongous rock band in the world.

By the time of The White Album, and by the time of Presence, respectively, things had gotten to the point where expedience was no longer expedient. The Beatles had tried not to feed the conspiracy theorists, and Zeppelin--modest at least in this one regard--had stayed away from licensing lunchboxes and appearances on Don Kirshner's Rock Concert. But at a certain point, things get so big, and so plain, that they become the elephant in the room.

Presence seems to be Zep's acceptance of their own status (beyond even their own control) as Big Dumb Object, an enormous artifact of unfathomable consequence.

That's dumb as in "incapable of speech," not as in "stupid," just so we're straight. But since we're there, let me note that Presence perhaps more than any Zeppelin album save II demonstrates that a certain amount of stoopidity is unavoidable or even desired if you're going to play the cock-rock game.

Plant's lyrics to "Achilles" reference some etching or the other of William Blake's, so my point is not to disparage Zeppelin's obvious operational intelligence. Still, Zeppelin were all about contrast: I dare you to check out the live video from '77, and tell me that Plant's suggestive mannerisms as he sings the band's 11-minute epic aren't a little stoopid . . . .

Ah, but I digress, 'cause the key concept here is not "Dumb" but "Big." Think thunder. Think "Hammer of the Gods," if that helps.

After four albums where at least part of the idea had been to leaven the heaviness with keyboards or acoustic instruments, Presence was a return to the undiluted bombast of the second album. Guitar bass drums voice recorded in a mere 18 days--not necessarily simple, but certainly direct.

The instrumental contrasts that for good or ill had been there on III, IV, Houses of the Holy, and Physical Graffiti were absent on the band's seventh album--and maybe that's why it's long been their least popular. Funny thought, that: maybe Zeppelin were so goddamned popular not because of the parts that rocked, but because of the parts that didn't!

I don't want to go overboard, however. I don't want to make it sound as if Presence were a piece of the nascent pub rock of the time, because the very first track belies that. "Achilles" is the third longest studio track for the band and features perhaps Page's most intricate guitar orchestration, with as many as 12 overdubs. It's routinely described as proggy, or even Yes-like (and if you don't believe that, consider that Dream Theater is one of the many acts who have covered the song). And note that Jonesy is playing an eight-string bass.

Leave it to this band of contrasts to feature a 10-1/2 minute song about a Greek demigod with painstakingly multitracked guitars on their back-to-basics record . . . Presence is perhaps Led Zeppelin's most misunderstood album, but for Page Plant Jones & Bonham, that may have been The Object all along.

File under: The Object Of It All

#Led Zeppelin #Presence #Nobody's Fault But Mine

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magpies4nights · 5 months

Text

Hi guys I’m back again lol (Dev log #14)

Hiiiii guyssssss, guess who’s back

from PRISON

*Thunder*

I’m almost done with the semesterrrrrr

*Thunder*

I barely passed my classessss

*Thunder*

I’ve been sleeping for 10 hours since like Friday because April and March exhausted meeeee

*Thunder*

I’m so damn done. Well, not done with the game, but done with life. I know employment is going to be hard and I don’t want to be someone’s housewife. I would have said take me to Mars but I can barely survive when temperatures drop to 16 degrees celsius and if I end up going there and surviving then that means the problems will come back to me. Sigh.

Well, Game dev time. Since the hiatus, I literally did nothing. I did finish Kyu’s base sprites, Father Figure’s base sprites and started on Priyah’s, but I’ll be honest I haven’t done much else because classes were getting tougher and tougher until pretty much I couldn’t do anything else except eat sleep and study. I think they have the least sprites because they have no line boil (I’d like to think the line boil means they’re getting affected by the game breaking down (I’d like to think the father figure is so damn powerful and immortal he literally sleeps through all the crazy shit that happens because that’s basically all what he does in the games except for punting his kid for eating chips loudly or disturbing his sleep)). So, what am I going to do? Continue Priyah’s sprites, then maybe do Orby’s, which probably would take me a bit longer because they would have line boil. Then maybe the diner cast, because Tiny Terson doesn’t deserve his own base sprites. If there is 1 million Tiny Terson haters I am one of them. If there is only 1 Tiny Terson hater that is me. If there are 0 Tiny Person haters then I am dead. I’ll start with making the game actually playable after all the base sprites are done because right now it’s just a sandbox with nothing to do.

I have put the demo to make you guys see what I’m talking about (it’s an HTML5 game. It’s really glitchy for some reason and some scenes for some reason can’t load the assets in smhhhhh. I’m going to make the full game downloadable when it’s out for windows because I have a feeling you can’t save on browser. Sorry Mac users. Not sorry. Also, I can't guarantee the downloadable thing at the bottom will run tbh.)

Here is the link to the demo: https://yal-armstong.itch.io/scaperat-the-demo

Is it exactly referencing if you’re taking like 2 lines of a song's lyrics? I don’t know but this song has been inadvertently been influencing the way I make jokes lmao deadass whenever I say anything about feeling sad this is how I expect the recipient of my message to read it like.

youtube

This song literally was what my early teens was like, like the basic lyrics that get the point across and the "emo" instrumental. Which honestly, it makes sense because this song was written by a 13 year old (which honestly, good for her). I’ll be honest, I really only miss my early teens a little bit because that's when I realized I wanted to be a game dev, but I didn't actually try making games until I was 19, which honestly thank god, because I just know I would make something angsty and cringey at 15. Also I LITERALLY DIDN’T KNOW THIS SONG WAS A JAMSTER RINGTONE?! I literally saw the music video first and was like “holy shit now this is some good shit” (I was 11 ok, I wanted to look like her so damn bad back then but I knew my parents would make fun of me)

I swear to god if any of you laugh at me because I used picmix instead of blingee I would have used it but literally could not sign up for blingee. We live in a society/j

#fan game #gasa4 #gasa4sc #fan character #Scaperat #top 10 sand box game demos (this doesn’t even make it into the honorable mentions)#I LOVE PICMIX I LIVE PICMIX I LO-/hj

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

Same Streets, New Memories

Pairing: Eddie x Chrissy (No Vecna/No Upside Down AU)

Summary: Sixteen years after he got his diploma and ran like hell out of Hawkins, Eddie is forced to return home. Disappointed and disillusioned, he broods over his past failures, until a chance meeting with a certain former Queen of Hawkins High puts things into perspective for him.

A/N: This is mostly inspired by the song I Finally Love This Town by Tired Pony. Also, I've seen a lot of "rock star Eddie" fics, so I wanted to explore the opposite of that - what if he never made it big at all?

Warnings: angst (quarter-life crisis stuff - they're all in their mid-30s though, is that too late for a quarter-life crisis?), mentions of drug dealing, drug use, and drinking, some violence

Word count: 6.5k

"Hawkins!" the driver called out amidst the hissing of the brakes, jolting Eddie from the stupor he'd sank into since the Greyhound left Indianapolis. He sat up in his seat and rubbed his aching neck, trying to suppress a groan. Sometimes he'd forgotten he could no longer fall asleep in any position and wake up just fine. For one thing, he wasn't nineteen anymore; for another, all those years spent pretzeled up into all sorts of shapes in the van, on the floor, or on the couch of anyone kind enough to let him crash at their place, were catching up with him.

The bus door clunked open, and Eddie stepped off, blinking in the watery spring sun. It took him a while to recognize that Hawkins' Greyhound station was still in the same place—the parking lot of Palace Arcade and Family Video—because Family Video had been taken over by a Blockbuster, while a Starbucks had replaced the Palace.

It had been sixteen years since he left, and he wasn't prepared for the changes. They say you can never go home again. But what if the place had never felt like home in the first place?

He was one of the few that got off the bus. There were no familiar faces among the passengers or those that came to pick them up. All the better. He didn't want to see anyone he knew.

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder and picking up his guitar case, Eddie trudged toward Forest Hills Trailer Park. It was early March, yet the air was already muggy, even more uncomfortably so after the cool dryness of Los Angeles, and he ran an irritable hand through his fizzy hair, again regretting his decision to come home. Well, what were his options? Stay in LA and work some shitty job with shitty pay that couldn't even afford him a shitty apartment, or return to Hawkins and work some shitty job with shitty pay, but at least he could stay with Wayne in their shitty trailer so he could save money on rent? The second one was an obvious choice, even if it made his insides shrivel up in shame every time he paused long enough to think about it. The prodigal freak of Hawkins, slinking home with his tail between his legs... It'll be OK, he told himself without conviction. Humiliation rarely causes death.

As he walked through Hawkins, Eddie noticed all the changes in the landscape and the people, some subtle, some obvious, but changes nonetheless. Compared to the constant flux of LA, Hawkins seemed older, more tired, the people wearing a harsher look on their faces. He wondered how much of the changes came from himself.

At the turnoff, he almost collided with some spotty-faced kids rolling past on their skateboards. "Watch it, old man!" one of them yelled. The word stung. Eddie thought about giving them a piece of his mind, but thought better of it once he got a closer look at them. Jesus, did he ever look that young? He must have. And thirty-six is not old. Yet, watching those kids, with their frosted tips and the hems of their jeans dragging in the dust, he felt ancient, like Rip Van Winkle returning from his twenty-year-long sleep in the mountains.

But that feeling waned, the closer he got to the trailer. In fact, by the time he pushed open the door, it was as if no time had passed at all, and he was ten years old, getting dropped off by Hopper after Al got arrested yet again. By that point, Eddie had gotten used to staying with Wayne whenever his old man got into trouble, and neither of them had noticed when that particular stay had extended from days into weeks into months and finally years.

The trailer was a time capsule. There was the prehistoric TV by the door, the old faded rug on the floor, the cramped, messy kitchen. All the mugs and hats he'd given Wayne for Christmases and birthdays still lined the walls. It had started sort of as a joke one Christmas, when Eddie first started living with Wayne and couldn't think of a present for him. He had found a Garfield mug and bought it with the little money he had. Wayne had laughed upon opening it and given it the place of honor on the shelf over the TV. And so for Wayne's birthday next year, Eddie had bought him another mug, and another for Christmas, occasionally throwing in a hat just to keep Wayne on his toes, until it had become a tradition and Wayne had to put up new shelves around the living room for the mugs.

Eddie still remembered the Christmas he'd given Wayne a "World's Best Dad" mug.

"I'm sorry, they didn't have a 'World's Best Uncle' one," he'd mumbled apologetically. Wayne had said nothing, only clearing his throat and giving Eddie a tight hug.

And there was Wayne himself. Eddie looked at his uncle with sadness. When had Wayne become so worn out? Ever since Eddie knew him, he had seemed to have been born old, always of some undetermined age between forty-five and sixty, yet full of a quiet energy that never went out. Now, slumped in the rocking chair in front of the droning TV, he looked shrunk, a tired old man. Guilt pricked at Eddie's insides. He'd promised himself the first thing he'd do when Corroded Coffin got big was to get Wayne out of the trailer park and into a decent house, and not only had he failed, but he also had to ask Wayne to take him back.

Eddie sighed and gave Wayne's shoulder a gentle shake. The old man opened his eyes, blinking at his nephew.

"You're home," he said, as if Eddie had just left the previous day.

Eddie wondered if he'd ever really felt at home anywhere. Here, in this rundown trailer, with his gruff but kind uncle, was probably the closest he'd ever gotten. "Yeah," he said simply. "I'm home."

***

Eddie got a job as a bartender at the Hideout.

He suspected that Lenny, the owner, gave him the job for old times' sake more than anything, but it suited him just fine. It meant he got to go to work when most of the townspeople were already on their way home, so fewer chances of running into people he knew. Besides, those that knew him and might mock him didn't usually frequent the Hideout.

It didn't pay that well, and Eddie wondered if the idea of raising enough money to self-produce and release the next Corroded Coffin album was even plausible. He briefly considered dealing again. But even back in high school, he had never made much money from it, mostly just enough to buy a new record now and then. And he couldn't risk getting arrested. Plus, even if he wanted to, he wouldn't even know where to begin now.

"I had to get out, man," said Reefer Rick, when Eddie dropped by his house on Lover's Lake one afternoon. "Kids these days, they're so much tougher. Cannier. And they deal with the hard stuff. I couldn't keep up. I had this place. I had a nice bit of money put away. So I got out while I could." Rick was well on his way to middle age now, spending most of the time sitting on the porch drinking or even fishing on the lake, like those bozos they used to make fun of back in the day, and, oddly enough, he seemed content. Eddie envied him that.

Rick was one of the few old friends that Eddie saw. Eddie found his initial fear about running into people he knew laughable now, because there was almost no one left. All his friends from high school had moved away. His bandmates, Jeff and Grant, had gone to LA with him after graduation, but Gareth, who'd graduated a year later, never made it. "Sorry, man, my mom wants me to stay close," he'd said. They had found a replacement for him, but it was never quite the same.

One Sunday, Eddie ran into Gareth at the store. Gareth recognized him first, and no wonder—Gareth's hair was now cropped short, making his cherubic face look tired and much older than his thirty-three years.

"Holy shit, man, when did you get back?" he asked, giving Eddie a bear hug.

"Gareth, language!" hissed the woman holding a baby, standing just behind them at the check-out line.

"Sorry, hun," Gareth muttered and gave Eddie an embarrassed grin.

They caught up at the Hideout that night. Eddie was relieved to be able to unload to Gareth all about the band's struggle, as he knew no one else would understand. Gareth was understanding, but Eddie couldn't help feeling that his old friend was congratulating himself for not following them to LA and subjecting himself to such hardship. A boring life with a boring job and a boring wife in boring Hawkins was preferable to that. And then Gareth's pager beeped and he excused himself to get home because his wife needed help with the baby, and that was that.

The rest of Eddie's Hellfire buddies, all those lost sheep he'd taken under his wings, were gone too. Henderson was in MIT, working on his PhD. He still sent Eddie a Christmas card every year. Byers, the only one who could rival Eddie as a DM, was in California after Mrs. Byers and Hopper got married and moved the whole clan there, but they were in San Bernardino or somewhere, and Eddie never ran into them in LA. Wheeler had also gone to school there—he was dating Hopper's daughter at the time, if Eddie remembered correctly—and stayed. Sinclair, who had turned out better than Eddie had expected, given his association with the jocks, was working in Indianapolis. They had all done well for themselves.

So perhaps it was a good thing that they weren't here to see their fallen leader.

***

But not everyone left Hawkins. Some stayed. And sometimes, those who stayed were the fucking worst.

It was a usual night at the Hideout, with the regular crowd of five drunks. Nobody paid attention to the band, some lame punk cover act. Eddie wanted to feel bad for the band, remembering that Corroded Coffin had once been in their shoes, but he couldn't muster up the sympathy. Looking at their carefully ripped clothes and perfectly coifed hair, he knew this was just a hobby for them, a pastime to make themselves look cool, and could be easily left behind when they went back to the safety of their parents' houses and their cushy little lives. Then he caught himself and shook his head. Jesus, when did he become so bitter?

A group of men burst through the door, their raucous shouts and laughter putting an end to his dark thoughts. Eddie barely glanced at them. He'd seen enough of those, both in the few weeks he'd been working at the bar and back when he was playing here with Corroded Coffin. Suburban dads, most of them, out on their allotted once-per-week guys' night. Bored with the usual, they decided to check out the Hideout as the most underground place Hawkins had to offer. Ha. They wouldn't know underground even if they woke up buried in a six-foot grave.

Silently, he filled their orders and gave them to Trish, the server. She was one of the new hires—just out of school, barely old enough to be working at a bar—so Eddie made it a point to watch out for her when he could. "You'll be OK with those?" he asked, indicating the men sitting in their booth.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she replied, though her face was grim.

The group stayed for a long time. As the night went on, they became louder, more obnoxious, and the grim set of Trish's mouth started to waver. She tried to act tough, but she was just a kid, really, and she was no match for those men.

After Trish brought the men their third rounds of tequila shots, Eddie heard a yell coming from the booth. "Get your hand off me!" It was Trish. She was grappling with one of the men, who was holding her by the waist, trying to pull her into the booth with him.

Eddie looked around. The band was gone, having finished their sets more than half an hour ago. Lenny wasn't even in. With a sigh, Eddie left the bar and approached the booth.

"Do we have a problem here?" he said.

"Damn right we do," said the man holding Trish. "You'd better teach your staff to be friendlier to the customers!"

"They are friendly. To those who can keep their hands to themselves," Eddie said, taking Trish's hand and pulling her up. She gave him a grateful look and scurried to the back.

The man got unsteadily to his feet. "Watch your fucking mouth," he snarled, giving Eddie a shove.

Eddie seized the man's wrist. "What did I say about keeping your hands to yourself?"

The man winced, and his friends glanced at each other, worried. "Fuck," the man said. Then he took a closer look at Eddie, and his eyes popped. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "Munson? Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?"

Eddie's stomach dropped, and his grip on the man's wrist loosened. He stared back at the man. Square jaws, a low forehead, and small, arrogant eyes. Loathing stirred his memories. His mind's eye added a letterman jacket and a baseball hat, and the man's features solidified. One of Jason Carver's cronies from the basketball team. What was his name?

The man's mouth lifted in a mocking smile. "Well, well, well. What happened to 'fuck this town', Munson?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Eddie said, ignoring the question.

"What are you going to do, kick me out?"

"Yes."

The others exchanged glances again, and Eddie was aware of how he looked in their eyes—a tall, intimidating guy in a leather jacket. Someone you don't want to mess with. One of them put his hand on the square-jawed man's shoulder. "Come on, Andy." Andy. That was it.

Andy jerked his shoulder away. "Don't let this freak scare you. All bark and no bite, aren't you, Munson?" he said, grinning at Eddie. "Just like in high school."

Eddie tried to swallow the hot gust of anger rising to his throat. "My bark is actually worse," he said evenly. "If you refuse to leave, I'm going to call the police."

Andy's friends had had enough. "Let's go, man. It's getting late anyway."

They filed out of the booth, throwing down money as they went. Andy still stared at Eddie, his already small eyes narrowed into angry slits, while his friends dragged him away.

***

After the bar closed, Eddie made sure that Trish was picked up by her boyfriend. It was four in the morning by the time he finished cleaning up and locking the door. As he walked through the parking lot that was still steeped in darkness, a voice called out, "Munson!"

Eddie turned around. It was Andy, standing by a car. What the hell?

"You really humiliated me tonight, you know that?" Andy said. By the slurring of his voice, his drinking hadn't stopped after he left the Hideout.

"You must have a really fragile ego, if that was enough to humiliate you," Eddie said, continuing to walk.

"Don't act all high and mighty with me, freak," Andy growled. "You were nothing in high school, and you're nothing now."

A haze of red came over Eddie's eyes, but he tried to keep it in check as he turned around.

"Hey man, I don't know what your problem is—" he began, but before he could finish, a fist landed on his cheek. Since said fist belonged to a guy who wasn't even standing straight, it didn't hurt much, but the surprise threw Eddie off his balance. Andy used the momentum to grab Eddie's shoulder and yank him down. Eddie's face collided with the car's side-view mirror.

Dazed, Eddie sat on the ground and touched his cheek. It stung where the mirror cut him, and his fingers came away wet with blood.

The haze of red slammed over his eyes again.

He jumped up and lunged at Andy.

What followed was a blur of punches, some connecting, either with flesh or metal, but most didn't. The more he missed, the angrier Eddie got. As if this bastard hadn't made his life miserable enough back in high school, he had to come to his work and attacked him as well. And for what? For ruining his night out with his buddies? As far as Eddie could see, Andy was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

Finally, Eddie had Andy by his neck against the car.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he roared.

"Fuck you, fucking freak!" Andy spat out.

Suddenly the fight went out of Eddie. What the hell were they doing, two grown men having a pathetic drunken brawl over some imagined animosity nearly twenty years ago? He let go. Andy sank to the ground, and Eddie staggered away.

***

His cheek throbbing, Eddie found his way into the woods surrounding Hawkins. He couldn't let Wayne see him in this state. Better to walk off some steam and come up with some excuse before facing his uncle.

At this hour, the sun was not up yet, but it was no longer pitch dark. The woods lay silent under a cold gray half-light that sapped everything of color and life. The only sound was the squishing of the wet, dead leaves of many winters under his feet, and the only movement, other than his own, was the drip-drip-drip of water, either rain or dew, from the new buds onto his head. Irritated, he reached up to rub the wetness out of his scalp, and winced as he accidentally touched the cut on his face.

He shouldn't have let Andy get to him. The encounter left a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy weight, like a lead ball, in his guts. It wasn't simply anger or shame, or rather, it wasn't his usual shame of being a failure. It was the shame of feeling like he and Andy were similar. He hated the idea that he could have something in common with that jerk, but there it was. It was like they were still teenagers, ready to use their fists at the merest hint of an offense, always trying to prove themselves, trying to be cooler than this or that person. Eddie thought he'd grown out of that high school mentality, but apparently not. It only took coming back to Hawkins, being amongst these people, to bring out that aggressive side of him.

Perhaps coming home was a mistake.

A rustling made him look up. It was light enough now for him to glimpse, through the trees, a figure in a tracksuit, a jogger, a woman, blond hair bobbing along with her steps, running toward him. Shit. He didn't want to run into anyone, especially not right now, skulking through the woods with dry blood down his face and caked on his knuckles. They'd think he was a serial killer or something.

Eddie whirled around, trying to blend into the trees before he and the jogger crossed paths. A branch smacked him in the face, blinding him, making him lose his footing. He took a stumbling step back. The embankment he was standing on, already weak from the endless rain of the past week, gave way, and before he knew it, Eddie was plummeting down a slope, dead branches and rocks scratching at his face and arms as he went.

For a moment, he lay sprawled at the bottom of the slope, blinking up at the green dome above him, too stunned to move.

Then a face appeared in his view. A woman's face, full of concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Then the concern on her face slowly dissipated, replaced by surprise and recognition.

"Eddie Munson, as I live and breathe," she said. "I almost didn't recognize you with that beard." When Eddie didn't answer, she gave him a teasing smile. "Don't you remember me?" She extended a hand to help him up.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could sink into the earth and disappear right there and then. But when the trees remained above him, and the musty earth remained underneath him, he had no choice but to accept the helping hand and get to his feet.

"Hi, Chrissy," he said.

***

Chrissy Cunningham. The last person he'd want to run into, especially in his current state.

Though her hair was shorter and held back with a headband instead of pulled into a ponytail, she still looked exactly as he remembered, as she had in high school, those wide blue eyes, that bright smile showing a hint of her crooked front teeth. Next to her, Eddie felt like a tramp. Probably looked like a tramp too.

"You OK?" she asked, taking in his bedraggled and bloodied appearance.

"Uh, yeah."

"That's a nasty cut right there," she said, pointing to his elbow. It was only then that Eddie felt the searing pain. He must've snatched it on a rock or a broken branch. "You should get that cleaned up, or it'll get infected." Without waiting for an answer, she took his other elbow and guided him up the other side of the slope. "Let me go grab a first-aid kit from school, and I can take care of that for you."

"What school?"

Chrissy stared at him. "Hawkins High, of course."

"Are we that close?"

"Don't you recognize this part of the woods?"

They were up on the opposite side of the slope now, and Eddie saw an old picnic table and bench set, all rusty and weather-beaten, by a tree stump that stood like a sentinel over the place. He immediately recognized it. He must've been too pissed off about his encounter with Andy to realize where he was walking.

"Wait here," Chrissy said. "I'll be back in a minute."

As she jogged off, Eddie thought about running away himself. But that would be ridiculous. She'd already seen him. How embarrassing would it be if she came back and found out he'd ran away like some coward? Besides, the fall had left him too sore to move. He gingerly sat down on one of the benches, afraid it would collapse from his weight, and cast a look around. Back in his schooldays, this had been the hangout for the stoners and the burnouts, and there had always been some empty beer cans and cigarette stubs scattered about. Now add to that some old needles, and he could've sworn he saw a used condom too. Jesus. Even this place had gone to the dogs.

What twist of fate had sent him here, and into the path of Chrissy Cunningham, of all people?

Of all the drug spots in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine...

Before he could contemplate that, Chrissy was back, bringing with her a first-aid kit. "So when did you get back?" she asked, lifting Eddie's elbow and cleaning the wound with practiced hands.

"A few weeks ago," Eddie replied, trying not to hiss at the sting of the rubbing alcohol.

"Are you just visiting? You're some big rock star out on the West Coast now, aren't you?"

Eddie was glad that her face was bent over his elbow, so she couldn't see the half-downcast, half-furtive look on his face. But his honesty won out. "Hardly," he mumbled. "Our albums sold like twenty copies each, and I think Jeff's mom—you know Jeff, right?—I think his mom bought most of them." He chuckled to show that he was joking, and Chrissy smiled back.

"I'd love to have a listen," she said. He knew she was just saying that to be polite, but it didn't stop butterflies from fluttering in his stomach. "I know it's not the same as seeing you guys live..." She lifted her eyes briefly to his face, before looking down again. "I always regret not making it to one of your shows at the Hideout, you know."

Eddie stared at her bent head, not knowing what to say. Being here with her and talking about Corroded Coffin and the Hideout brought back memories of another day in March, sixteen years ago. Back then, he'd felt, if not on top of the world, then at least pretty near it.

And that night... if he hadn't felt on top of the world that afternoon when he made Chrissy Cunningham laugh, then he'd certainly felt it that night.

It felt just like yesterday, the two of them driving back to his trailer after the successful conclusion of his Cult of Vecna campaign, trying the Special K, and then just staying up and talking. He couldn't remember what they'd talked about. All he remembered was a sense of... not happiness, exactly, but contentment, and it wasn't because of the Special K. No, it was because Chrissy had been there and she'd felt safe with him, and he with her.

He had never asked why she'd wanted to try the Special K. Later, as he drove her home, she'd asked him to drop her off a little further away so she could walk to her front door, and he'd guessed the reason, but hadn't pressed her about it.

"Sure, no problem," he'd only said, watching the way she twisted her fingers in her lap and fighting the urge to reach out, to put his hand over hers, and tell her everything would be alright. "I'll stay here and keep watch until you're inside."

She'd said thank and leaned over, perhaps to plant a kiss on his cheek, but at the same time, he'd turned his head to tell her "You're welcome", and the kiss had landed on his mouth instead. They'd both jolted back, embarrassed, only to be drawn back toward each other, inexorably, irresistibly, until her lips had found his again, deliberately this time. He still remembered the softness of her mouth, the taste of her lip gloss, the way she'd melted into his arms as he pulled her close...

He should've known it was too good to be true.

Queens of Hawkins High don't go around kissing freaks.

Chrissy had pulled away from him abruptly, ran out of his van, and disappeared into the night. When they got back to school after spring break, she'd actively avoided him.

Looking back, he realized that had been the first in the long string of disappointments that was to be his life for the following sixteen years.

And now here she was, talking as if nothing had happened.

It still stung, but he tried not to let it show.

"I didn't know you were in town," he said, changing the subject.

"Oh, I moved back a couple of years ago."

That surprised him. After leaving Hawkins, he'd tried hard not to think about Chrissy, but when he did, usually after some heavy drinking or after a late gig, when he felt particularly lonely, he'd imagined that she was leading a perfect life somewhere. Moving back to this shithole didn't seem that perfect.

And if she was here and Jason wasn't, that meant...

Eddie found himself glancing at her hand. No ring.

"My dad's passed, and my mom's had a stroke, so I moved back to help out," she explained. Eddie could feel all the years apart stretching out between them like a gulf. Their lives were so separate, so different.

"Shit. That's rough. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Moving back was a relief. I wasn't doing great in Chicago anyway. Divorced, working a dead-end job..."

"Oh. Sorry." Then, because he couldn't help himself: "Jason?"

She actually laughed, but there was no bitterness in it. "No. We broke up right after graduation. Just a few days after you left, in fact. He's married with a couple of kids now, living in Bloomington, I think."

She remembered when he left? Nah, don't be stupid. She only remembered 'cause that was when she broke up with that prick...

"What about you?" Chrissy asked.

"Me?"

"You married?" Was it his imagination, or did her nonchalance seem a little forced?

Eddie smiled ruefully. "Almost did, once."

"What happened?"

"She wised up." After that, it was just a string of fleeting relationships and meaningless hook-ups. More disappointments.

They talked about their classmates for a while—Nancy, Wheeler's sister, Miss Valedictorian, now a journalist in New York, Robin Buckley and Vickie Ryan, who shocked Hawkins when they started dating after graduation and then moved away together, and Billy Hargrove, the bad boy of their class, who was killed in a car accident in '92.

"Shit. Sounds like everybody left Hawkins," he said.

"Some stay. Some even came back," she said, gesturing to him and herself.

"That's only because they have no choice."

"No, I think it's nice to come back to a familiar place. You always know where you are. And if the place's changed... well, you've changed too, so that's even."

He hadn't thought of it like that. Suddenly the whole moving back home thing didn't seem so bad after all.

"You should be a motivational speaker, Cunningham," he said, trying to sound dry. "Have you considered that as a career?"

"I already kind of am, with the cheer squad."

"You're still cheering?"

"No, coaching." She perked up. "Didn't I tell you? I'm the cheer coach at Hawkins High now. Hard to believe, right?"

"No, not at all. You were always good at that." He remembered Chrissy in middle school, how young they'd been, how enthusiastic—how long ago was that, over twenty years? Jesus. No wonder he felt old.

"The only thing I'm good at, you mean."

"No, no," Eddie quickly said. "Well, you're good at this too," he added lamely, indicating the first-aid kit.

"I did study to be an RN." She finished bandaging up the large wound on his elbow and moved on to his other cuts and scrapes.

"So why—"

"Dropped out my third year." There was an awkward silence, but Chrissy didn't seem embarrassed. "I just couldn't cope with the stress, and there was no one to sell me half an ounce of weed at a discount," she said, twinkling at him, and he couldn't help smiling back at her.

That smile disappeared when Chrissy asked, "So, any exciting new project with Corroded Coffin coming soon?" Seeing Eddie's face fall, she sobered up. "I'm sorry, was that—"

"No, it's OK."

Eddie felt like opening up to her. Perhaps they weren't so different after all. Perhaps she'd understand.

"Well"—here Eddie took a deep breath, and the truth he'd been hiding came out in a rush—"there won't be any new stuff. Not for a while anyway. We got dropped by the label. The last album didn't sell that well, so they dropped us."

And there it was. The reason why he had to come home, the reason he felt like a failure. It had taken them years to get signed, and when it was only to an indie label, he and the guys had told themselves it was for the best, it would give them more independence. As it turned out, an indie label was less likely to interfere with their creative process, it was true, but it didn't interfere much with anything else either. They were left floundering, having to do almost everything themselves. Ten years of that would put a strain on anyone.

Without Gareth, they went through a string of replacement drummers, none lasting more than a few years, since they had never been part of Hellfire and didn't share their camaraderie. Then, when the label dropped them, it had been the last straw. They had held on for as long as they could, but eventually, when Grant and Jeff quit, Eddie had no choice but to quit as well. Grant had gone back to Hawkins for a while, then left again, having found a job in Detroit. Jeff, the rock of their group, was the only one who stayed in LA, working as a session musician. He had tried to convince Eddie to stay as well, but Eddie couldn't stand watching some other bands hit it big while he was forced to play someone else's music. To him, it would be a special form of Hell. So he'd gone home, feeling like he'd failed his bandmates, his uncle, and himself.

Chrissy listened to all that in sympathetic silence. No judging, no mocking, no clichéd advice or words of encouragement, just a softening of her eyes and a gentle squeeze of her hand on his arms as she placed Band-Aids on his cuts.

"Do you ever feel like you're a failure?" he asked, by way of a conclusion.

She peered at him for a moment before answering. "Oh just... you know, on a daily basis."

Those words rang a bell in Eddie's mind. He looked up to see Chrissy grinning crookedly at him, but there was some self-deprecation in that grin that made him realize how tactless his question had been.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean—"

"No, it's OK." Her smile got a little brighter. "I don't mind being a failure. Takes a lot of pressure off." When he raised a questioning eyebrow at that, she continued, "When you're already a failure, people don't expect much from you. You're free to live your life how you want, no need to live up to anyone's bullshit standard."

Eddie tilted his head to look at Chrissy more closely and realized his first impression of her had been wrong. She had changed. He could hardly recognize her from the nervous girl who jumped at the mere cracking of a branch when they met at this very bench sixteen years ago. She seemed... not exactly more confident, but rather, she no longer cared what others thought of her. Still, even back then, there had been a wild streak in her, a devil-may-care attitude that had driven her to buy drugs from him and agreed to come back to his trailer with him. Time and experiences had mellowed it, but it was still there. The same wild streak that had drawn him to her in the first place.

Chrissy finished with his arms and stood up so she could clean the cuts on his face.

"Do you remember that night before spring break, back in '86?" she said.

Their eyes met, and he held his breath. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I ran off like that. I'm sorry I ignored you in school afterward. It was—stupid of me. I cared too much about what other people thought."

So she remembered. And understood.

Eddie let out a breath, not just the one he'd been holding, but also the one that had his chest in a tight grip ever since he moved back home. With that breath, he also let go of all the heartache, guilt, and shame of the past. None of it mattered anymore. If he kept clinging to them, he would be no better than Andy.

He reached for Chrissy's hand, which was resting on his cheek. "You're not the only one," he said.

As she looked into his eyes, he would've given anything to be able to stay like that forever, with Chrissy standing over him, her face bent toward his, their hands intertwined, and the sun shining softly through the trees behind her, turning her gold hair into a perfect halo.

A branch snapped somewhere in the woods, breaking the spell.

Eddie cursed under his breath. His only consolation was that Chrissy was looking slightly flustered and disappointed, while she packed up the first-aid kit.

As she turned to leave, Chrissy blurted out, "Why don't you come to the game this Friday night? It'll be a walk down memory lane—oh, sorry." She winced. "I forgot that you don't care about—what did you call it? A game where you—"

"—where you toss balls into laundry baskets," Eddie said with a rueful smile. "I did say a lot of stupid shit back then. No, you don't have to apologize. It's just that—I have to work Friday night."

"Oh."

"But you're welcome at the Hideout anytime," he said, emboldened by her crestfallen look. "Drinks are on me."

Her face brightened. "I'll hold you to that."

"So... guess I'll see you around then?" he asked.

"Looks like it." She flashed him another crooked smile and walked off, while Eddie remained at the bench, feeling like he was fourteen again.

***

Wayne came out of the bedroom to find his nephew sitting on the fold-out bed. When Eddie first came home, Wayne had tried to give the bedroom back, saying the fold-out had served him well for ten years and would serve him well again, but Eddie had vehemently refused. His reason was that he was the one working nights now, and he didn't want to wake Wayne up when he came home early in the morning. In the end, Wayne had relented. He knew Eddie's guilt about having to move back in with him; no need to make the boy feel worse than he already did.

Eddie's face was bruised and bandaged, but he was looking more content than Wayne had ever seen him since he came home. And he had taken his guitar out of its case and was strumming a soft melody, occasionally stopping to jot something down in a battered old notebook in front of him. Wayne took that as a good sign.

"Mornin'," he said, shuffling toward the kitchen, making no comment on Eddie's late return or injuries. "You want some breakfast?"

"Hmm," Eddie replied distractedly, his attention still on the notebook.

It was his first attempt at writing a song in about eight months. He was a little rusty, but it felt good to pick up the guitar.

They say you can never go home again. But what if you can make the place feel like home? By peopling it with those that you know and love, and those that know you and, perhaps, if not love, then at least like you back?

She'd asked him to a game.

She'd said she'd see him around.

Maybe he could get someone to cover his shift...

"Hey Wayne," Eddie said, looking up from his guitar. "You ever watch a basketball game at Hawkins High?"

Wayne turned away from the pan of sizzling bacon to eye Eddie suspiciously. "Since when did you become interested in high school basketball?"

"Since today."

"Why?"

"No reason." Eddie shrugged, then he grinned, that familiar ear-to-ear grin that Wayne hadn't seen in a long, long time. "Just wondering if I could suffer through it this Friday night."

A/N: OK, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but my brain kept screaming at me to add more, so maybe I will expand on it later… not as a full multi-chaptered fic, but as a series of interconnected one-shots. We'll see.

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheersource #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #everybody lives/nobody dies #older eddie munson #one shot

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