#hose-net

[jensownzoo]

First cucumber seedling up.

Now begins the vigilance.

[sucktacular]

Anyway I think legally I should be prescribed by a real doctor to get a small pool to put in my tiny backyard so I can sit in it and boil myself everyday this summer :) it has to be prescribed so it can get covered and be free cuz I'm poor and it would be great for my brain health :)

[euthymiya]

how to tame a fox — kamisato ayato

somehow, you manage to catch the menace that’s been nibbling away at the plants in your garden—it’s not exactly what you’d expect, however. and the culprit is determined to stick close to you, too

before you read: fem reader ; fox hybrid ayato ; sly and playful ayato and tired and grumpy reader ; banter ; reader as a garden ; reader sprays ayato with a hose

notes: ari and risu said he’d be a fox hybrid and i think they’re very right

Something has been eating at your garden—something cunning and clever. Your berries have dwindled, your vegetables are harvested before you have the chance, and your carefully kept little plants are a mess.

You think it’s bunnies at first, but bunnies are not smart enough to skillfully work around the netting you’ve set around each plant to keep them safe from trespassing paws.

Which begs the question—just what is so conniving enough to be so good at getting to your garden, and how on earth are you going to catch it?

You don’t have to ponder on the question for too long.

It’s dark when you open your door to wander into your backyard—the moon is full, and you’d like to appreciate the sky and the stars for a bit from the comfort of your own yard.

Until you notice the pair of eyes staring back at you, that is. You let out a piercing shriek, grabbing the first thing you can get a hold of. (It’s a hose—the same hose you use to water the plants that keep getting eaten against your wishes.)

“What in the gods names—” you gasp, jumping back as the creature—no, man flinches at your presence. “Who are you?” You hold up the hose like a threat, and his nose wrinkles in amusement.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” The man rises from where he’s knelt, and you notice the strawberries he’s picked, held in his hand.

And then you realize he’s not just a man—no, there’s two pairs of long, fluffy ears over his head and a bushy tail that waves around behind him. His eyes gleam with a sort of mischief you don’t like.

“What am I doing in my garden?” You ask incredulously, “the better question is what are you doing with my strawberries? Don’t you see the nets I’ve covered them with to keep animals away?”

“I’m not an animal,” he gasps offended, “and yes, these nets have caused quite the troublesome experience for me. My tail gets caught in them often.”

You spray him belligerently, earning a surprised grunt from him as he jumps back at the impact of the water, dropping the berries he’s collected.

“How dare you harvest my vegetables?” You ask in disbelief, “I’ve been trying to keep you away for weeks.”

“Hey,” he cries, “cut that out! I don’t appreciate my fur getting wet, you awful woman!”

“Awful?” You parrot, offended. “How am I awful when you’re the one eating my garden?”

“You have plenty of things,” he huffs as you finally stop spraying him, shaking the water out of his ears as he grumpily eyes his tail. “Sharing is a wonderful virtue to have, you know. Especially for poor, cold, young men like me.”

“You’re nothing but a scoundrel,” you correct, hands on your hips. “Now shoo! Off my property before I call someone to make you leave. And don’t let me catch you here again!”

You spray him one last time for good measure before turning to enter your home when you feel a presence behind you, making you whip around to see what it is. Sure enough, the tall, slender man with an awfully troublesome glint in his eyes is face to face with you, his ears twitching excitedly as he leans in to get a better look at your face.

You get a much better look at him now—pale blue hair and deep purple eyes, a small mole below the left corner of his lip, and, the most noticeable detail, his pale blue ears that are drenched with wet fur. He’s handsome, in an annoying sort of way.

You almost—almost—itch to scratch at his ears, but logic and reason tell you this is the same man who’s been stealing from your garden. Your hard earned plants that you cared for delicately and diligently. And he’s enjoyed the fruits of your labor without so much as a care.

You watch as his tail waves behind him, bushy and thick even with wet fur.

“It’s awfully cold out here tonight,” he murmurs with a pouty look, “and you’ve drenched my poor fur, too.”

“It’ll dry,” you say blandly.

He pouts further, tilting his head as he argues, “not before the cold air gets me sick and shivering. Perhaps I could spend the night in your warm home—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, furiously planting your hands on your hips as you glare at him, “what makes you think I’ll be letting the very person who’s stolen from me into my home?”

“Stolen is a very harsh word,” he gasps, hand over his chest as though the accusation shocks him—maybe even mildly offends him. “I was borrowing the goods you’ll grow back eventually.”

“The season is almost over!” You says frustratedly.

“There’s always next year,” he hums, “it’s good to help those in need, you know.”

“I don’t even know you,” you try again, pursing your lips as you grow tired of the back and forth.

“I’m Ayato,” he beams. He seems almost proud of his problem solving skills. “There, now you do.”

“You don’t need me to help you,” your patience is wearing thin, and faintly, you realize he’s right. It is cold. You’d like to get inside as quickly as possible and warm up the prickling goosebumps along your skin. “You’ve made it this far just fine. Evidently.”

“But I have no one, you see,” he sniffles petulantly, “my parents have long passed and I’m just lonely and on my own. Nowhere to go,” he leans closer, pout deepening as he bats his lashes.

And, well…he’s sort of cute. Far too old to use the parent excuse, you want to scoff, but it’s a cute effort all the same. You realize he’s not going to leave you alone, either, so it’s best just to let him in for the night and promptly escort him off your premises in the morning.

Yes, that’s right, you think resolutely, this will only be until the morning.

“You can stay for the night and only just the night—”

“Marvelous!” He brightens, cutting you off. You realize a little too late you might making a huge mistake when he swiftly moves past you, walking through the door of your home and inviting himself in before you can properly allow him permission.

Sly as a fox, you think agitatedly. You should have realized that much from the get go.

When you walk into your home, he’s already looking around, touching this and that, humming in approval and disapproval as though he’s in any place to judge the arrangements of your home.

“Hm, yes, very nice,” he says dryly, eyeing your interior. Your eyes twitches. “I suppose it shall do.”

“I’m sure it’s infinitely better than the outdoors,” you scowl, “I would count my blessings, if I were you. And don’t get used to it—you’ll be leaving in the morning.”

He grins smoothly—like he knows something you don’t, like there’s mischief already brewing in that quick-thinking little brain of his.

“Won’t you be a dear and dry my fur?” He saunters back over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling it to his ears to guide your hand along the dampness of his coat. You gasp at the gesture slightly, stiffening under his touch as he pouts. “I hate wet fur, you know.”

“Surely, you can use a towel and dryer yourself,” you deadpan. “I’ll grab them for you—”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to break anything,” he insists. “Perhaps you should just do it for me.”

Well, his cunning little scheme is at least abundantly obvious this time, you think. So he craves a little affection, someone to handle the matter of grooming his fur for him. It’s a bit troublesome, but you suppose you can let it slide if it gets him to be quiet and leave you alone for the night.

“Fine,” you concede, sighing tiredly as he perks up at your response.

He follows you, silent, but evidently pleased as you gather a dry towel and the blow dryer before settling on the edge of hour bed.

To your surprise, he settles on the floor, tucking himself against your leg as his cheek rests on your thigh. You blink down at him.

“Go on then,” he hums, “I do like when it when I’m scratched behind my ears. And make sure you use the warmest setting there is, I don’t like the cold. And don’t hold it too close to my ears—I’m a bit sensitive to sound, you see.”

“Are you usually this demanding with all the people you steal from?” You snap, raising an unimpressed brow.

He grins, nuzzling against your thigh before he gives you a sweet, innocent look as he murmurs, “only the ones who keep me in their homes.”

Something tells you he’s not going anywhere, and something tells you that when morning comes, he’ll have yet another scheme to stay indoors—just like a sly, conniving fox would manage to. Oddly enough, when your fingers gently brush through the fur as you dry the dampness away with the warm air of the dryer, the way he nuzzles closer grows on you. Just a little.

You’ll still find a way to get him to leave you alone eventually—and your garden, too. Until then, though, perhaps you can allow yourself to scratch behind his ears just a few times.

Foxes are nocturnal so you know that was about to be a longgggg night

[artaxlivs]

Eddie’s sitting in a lounge chair in Steve’s backyard. Well, it’s not a backyard perse, it’s a huge patio with a pool and then a whole fucking forest. Who’s house backs up to the forest? Do the Harrington’s own the forest, too?

Whatever, doesn’t matter. 

He’s sitting in the lounge chair in nothing but cut off shorts and his jewelry, slowly bakng in the sun. What’s left of his beer in it’s sun warmed can is held loosely in one hand when Max plops down in the chair next to him. El gently sits in the same chair as Max and the both stare at Eddie. He doesn’t look at them though.

After thirty seconds, Max asks, “What are you doing?”

“Just wait for it.” Eddie tells her, sipping on his warm beer but not moving his eyes from the poolhouse across the patio.

Both girls look over, shading their eyes with their hands. All three of them wait silently. After another minute or so, the poolhouse door swings open and Steve comes out, pushing something that looks like a vacuum cleaner. He’s wearing his headphones and sort of bouncing to the beat as he drags a big hose part of it over to the pool filter opening thingy. Popping the plastic lid off, Steve kneels down, reaches through the opening for the vacuumy attachment hose he’s holding through the pool side. It looks very complicated and Eddie doesn’t give any fucks about pool cleaning or safety or whatever the fuck is happening there.

What he cares about is all that lovely golden skin on display. Steve’s shirtless, modesty about that hairy chest or those bat bite scars nowhere in sight, wearing swim trunks so short that Eddie can see the little love bite he himself left on the inside of one of those thick thighs this morning. Left it so high that no one else would see it but he’d forgotten that this man is allergic to inseams longer than his pointer finger. 

Steve must get the hose attached because he stands back up, shakes the water off of his hands and gently lowers the pool vacuum into the water, holding the hose thingy as it sinks to the bottom. That done, he dances back into the poolhouse on barefeet, probably listening to fucking Bruce Springsteen or Queen because the guy actually has way more music cred than the kids give him credit for. There’s a click and low drone as he turns the filter on and the vacuum starts to roll around on the bottom of the pool.

Max turns to Eddie and grins. El doesn’t looks away from where Steve has disappeared into the poolhouse. “So we’re ogling Steve.” She says with a wolfish grin. No question. It’s a statement.

“Red!” Eddie sputters, looking away from the poolhouse to give her his best stink eye. “You are children!”

El makes a raspberry noise with her lips and rolls her eyes in a way that looks far too much like Max - or Mike.

Max scoffs, “We’re fifteen, you asshole. Tell us what you were looking at when you were fifteen and we’ll stop.”

Nope. He will not be doing that. No one ever needs to know what young Eddie was using for ....ew he’s not going to think of them doing anything he was doing at fifteen. Gross.

“Mayfield. You’re ruining it. Watch quietly and I won’t tell Steve.”

El grins too this time and settles into a more comfortable position. She and Max share a triumphant look and lean closer together. Probably to whisper to each other where he can’t hear them. Good. Eddie doesn’t want to know.

Steve comes back out, waves at them like the innocent babe that he is and then starts wielding a giant fly swatter - or wait, it’s a pool net. It’s like twelve feet long and Eddie can clearly see the muscles on Steve’s stomach and arms flex as he scoops out leaves and summer bugs from the middle of pool with it. By the time he’s satisfied with the now pristine surface of the pool, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on Steve. If Eddie wasn’t sitting next to two teenage girls, he’d probably be over there by now, climbing Steve like a fucking tree.

Who invited them? Oh wait, they did. Happy fucking summer he guesses.

The captain of the swim team disappears into the poolhouse again and when he comes out this time, he’s got a screwdriver and a lightbulb in his hands for some reason. Setting them on the edge of the pool, he dives in and Eddie was not prepared for that. Steve’s all sleek and long limbed, sunkissed as he barely makes a splash into the pool. When he comes up, he flicks his hair back and swims over to where he left the screwdriver, putting it between his teeth and pushing himself below the surface.

Steve really shouldn’t have let the girls come over to swim today. He should have known what watching this was gonna do to Eddie. Damn him. He hears the girls giggling and sighing as he watches his boyfriend replace the light in the pool underwater. Like, he’s under water the whole time. Jesus, how long can Steve hold his breath for and what else...nope, don’t think about it.

Eddie has zero idea of how much time has passed but eventually Steve gets out of the pool, drags the vacuum thing out - holy wet back muscles Batman - and puts it back in the poolhouse. Dripping and carrying a towel in one hand and his walkman in the other, Steve wanders over to the three of them and then shakes himself like a fucking dog, The girls squeal and Eddie doesn’t because he honestly needed the cool down.

“You guys enjoy the show?” Steve smirks.

Fucking ‘A they did. Thank you very much. Eddie can’t wait to drag Steve inside and ravish him now.

That doesn’t happen. Because the girls, while old enough to thirst after an adult man, are apparently not old enough for Steve to leave alone in the pool for the thirty minutes it would take for him to bend Eddie over his bed and fuck him - honestly they could probably make it happen in fifteen if they tried. So instead, they play babysitters all afternoon and when Hop finally picks the two troublemakers up, Eddie’s too goddamn sunburnt to get laid.

Very gently, Steve rubs aloe into Eddie’s lobster red shoulders and vulnerable spiderweb of scars across his stomach, the tops of his knees and across his nose. “And what did we learn?” Steve snarks at him.

“To put sunscreen on before you take your shirt off.” Eddie replies morosely from where he’s laying on his back on Steve’s cool sheets, staring up at the ceiling and deeply regretting his lack of foresight.

He almost jackknives up when Steve tugs the waistband of his shorts down to expose his still white underbelly and kisses him just above his hairline. “Mmmhhmm, there is one part of you that escaped the mean summer sunshine,” he sucks a bruise into Eddie’s skin where he’d left the kiss, tugging gently to help Eddie out of his scratchy jean cut offs. “And lucky for you, I’m a giver.”

Happy fucking summer indeed.

***That’s all there is of this one but feel free to check out my masterlist of full fics here.  If you’re thirsty for Bottom Eddie being feral over Steve, Drummer Steve is the one I suggest. If you’re looking for kinky & clueless Top Eddie then An Accidental Flogging is probably more your thing. Happy reading!

[laurasimonsdaughter]

I'm musing on how most riddles in folktales really do not behave like what we consider riddles today. Because they usually fall into one of these categories:

● A cryptic question referring to something that actually happened and only the asker could know the answer to. Like in the Grimms' "The Riddle", where a prince asks a princess this: "What killed none, and yet killed twelve." The answer is a particular raven, which ingested poisoned meat and was then cooked into soup, eaten by twelve robbers who immediately died from it. (This is also called a "neck riddle" because it often shows up in stories where winning the riddle contest saves the protagonist's neck.)

● A cryptic question that has a metaphorical answer, but which could technically have many correct answers, not just one. Like the riddles posed in the ballad "Riddles Wisely Expounded", one of which is "What is louder than the horn?" with the answer "Thunder is louder than the horn."

● An apparently "impossible task" instead of a question. Like in Joseph Jacobs' "The Clever Lass" in which the king orders a clever farmer's daughter to "come to him clothed, yet unclothed, neither walking, nor driving, nor riding, neither in shadow nor in sun." So she undresses and wraps herself in her long hair, attaches a net to the tail of a hose and lets herself be dragged to the castle while holding a sieve over her head to shield her from the sun. (This type of contradiction riddle even shows up in the Mabinogi.)

Of course it matters what role the riddles play in the tale. Usually it's not about the riddle at all, it's just about the protagonist proving how clever and/or witty they are. And in case of the neck riddles, the audience usually also knows the answer, because they know what happened to the protagonist earlier in the story, so the audience gets the pleasure of being smarter than the antagonist.

In the originally Persian tale "Turandot" cryptic questions with (I would say) multiple answers are mixed with something that feels more like a riddle with one "proper answer". For example: "What mother resides on earth, who swallows all her children." The answer is: "The sea, she swallows every stream and river that has ever sprung from her." But I feel like whenever I encounter a "classic" riddle with one proper answer, that usually rhymes, it's either from Greek Mythology (boy did they love a riddling verse), or it a modern riddle added in the retelling...

[wifeyoozi]

Jun wearing those pantyhose in spell mv got me thinking ... Sub jun with (hard?) dom reader and something to do with those pantyhose

Yeogi Ocean View (smut - mdni)

Truly a view to be loved. Jun was sitting on the chair, wearing nothing but pantyhose over his smooth long legs. He was too pretty wearing those to be wearing anything else. You don't even let him wear his boxers while you tie both his hands to the armrests of the chair he's sitting on. Maybe he's wearing some clamps over his little tweeky ducky nipples, moaning to himself in desperation.

He's hard, really hard. But he's trying to hold himself back. He doesn't want to tear the pantyhose you got him. He'd get published if he did. And he wanted to be your good little boy. You get in between his legs, spreading them and settling your face in front of his dick. He's already leaking precum. You wanted to suck his cock already. But you were determined to test his endurance first.

So you kiss up his thighs, dragging your tongue over the thin net, nibbling softly so the fabric doesn't tear already. They are some really high quality hose, you could tell they were strong. Any cheap ones would've torn already from the straining dick they held. You wondered if jun thought about it, if he bought high quality ones from experience.

Jun let's out loud whimpers as you start licking along the length of his dick over the house, his head thrown back. You can taste his precum through the fabric. You slide your tongue against his balls too, teasing him knowing how much in edge he already is. Jun's heart almost drops when he heard a zzzrt sound, feeling he'd torn the pantyhose already. When he looks down, he sees it was you who did it, nails still hooked over the hole you made right at his crotch. You whip his dick out, and his hips buck as soon as your hand wrap around him.

"tch-tch, good boys don't do that, now, do they Junie?" You tease him more, stroking his dick painfully slow. You drag your freshly manicured nails against his dick when he just whimpers in answer.

"'m sorry," jun cries. How beautiful.

"I should punish you for that," you say slowly, "but I feel generous today, so I'll just forgive you." You finish your sentence by taking jun's head in your mouth. Jun's moan fill your ears as you start sucking on it, his legs shaking already. "Don't cum yet, baby. Hold it, let me suck you well."

He nods, hands fisted as you take all of his length till the back of your throat, following your cheeks. You make eye contact with him as you start bobbing your head up and down. You know he wants to hold your head, he loves doing that while recieving a head. Which is also exactly why you tied him up.

Jun is having a very hard time holding back, especially when you start toying with his balls in your fingers. "Please, need to cum! 'ts too much!" He cries painfully. You take your mouth off his dick with comical pop sound and wrap your hand around his dick again.

"go on then," you assure him, and stroke his length up and down till he cums all over his bare abs, his semen dripping down the black net. You chuckle at him, "look at you, cumming pathetically over yourself."

Jun made a whiny sound.

Those pantyhose costed him a fortune tu be just destroyed like that. But the experience was worth it ;)

[rpmemes-galore]

mermaid things bc lemme have my guilty pleasures

btw mermaid is gender neutral here, go wild, fam

mermaid muse takes over other's bathtub

mermaid muse sings to calm down the other

mermaid muse teaches the other how to swim

mermaid muse splashes the other with their tail

mermaid muse tries to coax other into the water

mermaid muse rescues the other from drowning

mermaid muse rescues the other from a shipwreck

mermaid muse brings the other a gift from the ocean

mermaid muse is caught in a net by other, on purpose

mermaid muse guides the other underwater to explore

mermaid muse is caught in a net by other, accidentally

mermaid muse finds the other trapped on a deserted island

mermaid muse brings the other a food they eat in the ocean

mermaid muse gets washed ashore in a bad storm, and is found by the other

mermaid muse is becoming dehydrated, so other sprays them down with a hose

[kedreeva]

Hi! I went through your FAQ and didn't see a direct answer this this, but how do you go about actually obtaining a peafowl? How much do they usually cost per bird?

Up front, I can only speak to USA practices, so if you live elsewhere the answer may not be the same.

I'll answer the second part first since it's "easier," or maybe I should say, slightly more concrete, and the answer is: it depends on what you want, and how capable you are of caring for it. I have seen day old blues from backyard breeders go for as little as $15, but unless you really have a handle on what to expect and how to care for them, you will almost certainly be responsible for the death of a day old peachick and waste the money. I have watched an online auction for an ultramarine yearling go for $6,800, but that's because that was a newly imported color from Europe that no one else had. A green - a true, pure green, not an American green that's actually a high green blood hybrid - will run you $5-10k depending on where you import from or who you're buying from that's imported themselves and tracked lineage. An American green will still run you a couple thousand, but more like $2k than $6k. Your average adult blue will run $80-200, but I've watched blue hens go for $400 at auction. Color/pattern mutations will run $150-800 typically, for "common" colors, depending on their quality and whether they're a nice looking hybrid (blue + green species), but I've seen nice morphs go for $35 at auction. I say this because auctions can be great on some days and terrible on others and you would need to know average prices for the color and/or pattern you want, to know if you're getting a deal or getting hosed.

But regardless of a $15 chick or an $800 silver pied platinum Spalding, the expense on them actually comes mainly from the cage- the minimum (and I do mean minimum literally not pretty owners of YouTube outrageous claim of minimum), flight pen size is 500 square feet with no side shorter than 12 feet long (to accommodate trains and allow the birds past you without injuring themselves, and 8 feet tall to allow for a 5-6 perch the males can get on to clean their trains. Every bird must also have 150sq/ft, so 500 will hold 3, but not 4, you'd need 600 for 4. But with peafowl, bigger is better- the more space they have to move around (and thus away from you) the closer they are willing to come to you, because they feel like they can safely get away again. The minimum size is also not optional if you want to maintain healthy birds- they're extremely susceptible to parasites and bacteria often found in raw soil, and even to just... Getting dirt in their face and getting infected sinuses. Minimizing their ability to access dirt by growing in grass and cover crop plants like clover is the single greatest step you can take to protect their health. And this doesn't even include the coop, which is minimum 8x8x6 to protect them and their trains. With the price of lumber, wire, and netting, this will easily run you a few thousand, but it's by far the safest way to keep them, especially the hens, who otherwise tend to get eaten by predators when they set a nest while free ranging. It's also the only way to ensure they don't just leave, because they are game fowl like pheasants, not like chickens, and you can't just toss them in the yard and expect they'll stay. Occasionally they do, but largely they don't.

To answer your first question... It depends on where you live. Most USA states have livestock auctions and bird swap meets- your best bet to acquire local birds is to find those but how to find them... Well. You kind of just have to luck upon them or hope a web search turns them up, if they're even advertised online, on publicly accessible places. There are bigger breeders around the USA that will ship birds if you're looking for something specific you can't find locally, but you'll be looking at a $350+ shipping bill. You can join peafowl groups on Facebook and try to find locals, or contact the UPA (United peafowl association) to get a breeder directory but that's only people who have paid to be in the club, which honestly doesn't do much anymore. You can also, if you know of one breeder, ask if they know other breeders. A good breeder should at least be able to say 'if I don't have what you're looking for, you can try this other person/people.' alternately there's ebay and craigslist, although I wouldn't trust the former because you can only sell eggs, and peafowl hatching eggs are a big fucking waste of money, typically speaking. They're extremely finicky eggs to hatch and most people prefer to let broodies hatch when they can, because they don't hatch well in incubators.

[caputvulpinum]

The works of the roots of the vines, of the trees, must be destroyed to keep up the price, and this is the saddest, bitterest thing of all. Carloads of oranges dumped on the ground. The people came for miles to take the fruit, but this could not be. How would they buy oranges at twenty cents a dozen if they could drive out and pick them up? And men with hoses squirt kerosene on the oranges, and they are angry at the crime, angry at the people who have come to take the fruit. A million people hungry, needing the fruit- and kerosene sprayed over the golden mountains. And the smell of rot fills the country. Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth.

There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW. 18+

AN: See end of chapter

Beta'd by @superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter

Series Masterlist Fic Menu

Last night, you dreamt that you were an acrobat wearing a costume made of white silk inlaid with diamonds that reflected the light and made you shine. Step after careful step, your slippered feet moved along a tightrope stretched high above the earth. Somehow you knew as long as you held your breath, you could make it, you wouldn't fall. A crowd gathered below you yelled things you couldn't understand. The rope creaked, and your lungs screamed for you to breathe, but you were only halfway across, and your fate became clear - you would either suffocate or fall. 

Your lungs still ached with that long-held breath as you walked down the stairs that morning in search of Steve. It was time to step off before you fell. The main floor is quiet, and you thought maybe you were home alone until you caught a glimpse of Steve through the kitchen window.  

"Hi," you say, coming out of the sliding glass door onto the back deck. The usual tidy space was in upheaval. Patio furniture that had been uncovered and scrubbed clean was now drying in the warm sun. There are gallon jugs of chemicals and cleaning tools on the cement apron surrounding the in-ground pool. Steve was in board shorts and a tank top using a long net to skim the debris out of the water.

"Hi," he gives you a quick glance before returning to his task. Some drenched whirligigs and bits of leaves get scooped up in his net before he empties it out into a silver trash can he has waiting.

"Going for a swim?" Your tone is light and breezy, a contrast to the butterflies rioting in your belly.

"Well, I thought if I can't give you the ocean, at least I can give you a pool." His thoughtful gesture only makes this harder.

"It's still a little cold, isn't it?" 

"It's heated," he shrugs before moving toward the house and connecting a garden hose to the spigot.

"Steve, I think we should talk," you blurt out, twisting your fingers.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," he keeps his back to you as he moves around, dropping the hose into the pool. 

"No. I really think-"

"There's nothing to say. We're friends, right? That's what you came out here to say," he asks as he crouches down to open the cover of the pool filter.

"Yeah, we're friends," you say almost hesitantly. 

"I don't want to hurt you or Eddie. Yesterday, I just got a little carried away. I stopped..we stopped before anything happened. So we can..move on, yeah?" 

When he is met with your silence, he abandons his task and joins you on the deck, where you stand with your eyes lowered, studying the texture of the gray boards. 

"Hey, none of this is your fault," he says, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, "It's me. I just need to…." He trails off and crosses his arms over his chest, "I want you to be happy while you're here. Hopper said you should hear from Enzo soon, and I'll start volunteering at the shelter again during the day. Let me know when your shifts start, and I'll give you a ride if you need one, okay?"

"Yeah, alright. Thanks, Steve," you say, turning back into the house. He returns to the pool to continue with his project. Everything is as it should be, but the disappointment washing over you confuses you even more. 

Steve was right. The phone rang the following afternoon, the voice of a harried older man letting you know you could start work the next week. It was just three shifts to start, but Enzo would schedule you for more once you were trained. The evening shifts would mean relying on the boys for rides since walking late at night wasn't a sensible option. 

"White tops, black bottoms. The men wear ties, girls wear skirts. Got it?" The older man with the Dallas mustache explained as you followed him around the busy Italian restaurant. Candles sat atop the crisp white table linens that covered every table, casting a soft glow on the brick walls and polished wood. 

"Yes, Mr. Enzo," you replied, trying to commit his whirlwind instructions to memory.

"Just call me Enzo. Forget the mister. Now, this is Leigh." He stops in front of a petite girl with dark hair cut in a sharp bob. She smiles kindly at you as Enzo continues, “She is going to show you the ropes. Stick with her tonight, and you'll be on by yourself for your next shift, learn the menu. Yes?" After you answer with a nod, Enzo departs for the kitchen, leaving you with Leigh. 

"Don't worry, you'll get it," she reassures. "There's a way we're supposed to do things, but I'm going to show you the easy way. You'll be a pro by the end of the night. You graduated last year, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," you say as she hands you a stack of menus and some silverware wrapped up in napkins.

"Lucky. I'm still a junior," She says with a sigh. Leigh takes you through table settings and the wine list, and you spend the rest of your shift shadowing her as she takes care of her tables with efficiency and a warm manner. It turns out Enzo's wasn't that different from any other restaurant you've worked at. Sure the menu and table settings were fancier. But in the kitchen, the wait staff still bitched about their tables while hanging halfway out the backdoor sneaking in a quick smoke between filling glasses and serving plates and the cooks still found a way to turn every request into something raunchy while leering at your boobs. By the night's end, your first-day jitters had disappeared, and you felt confident enough to work on your own.

"You have my number. Let me know if you need a ride or if you ever want to hang out," Leigh calls to you as you wait for Eddie to pick you up at the end of the night. 

"Thanks, I will," you wave as she heads to her car. Most of your friends left for college after graduation, and it's nice to meet someone new. The sound of Eddie's van precedes its arrival. The loud engine and equally loud music halt when he pulls up to the curb. He bursts out of the driver's door and sweeps you up into his arms, lifting you off your feet, and you squeal as he swings you around before kissing you like he hasn't seen you in days instead of hours.

"What's all this?" You ask breathlessly. 

"I've got big news, my love. But first, I want to hear about your first day," he says while opening the door and helping you into the van. 

"It was good, but I want to hear your news," you say, caught up in his excitement. 

"Okay. Hold on." He runs around the side of the van and climbs in his seat, "are you ready?" He asks with a smile like a kid on Christmas morning. 

"Yes. Yes. Tell me already," you say, bouncing in your seat.

"Okay. You are looking at the lead guitarist that will be playing with his band at the,” Eddie drums his fingers on the dashboard before continuing, “Metal Showcase Showdown." He says the name like a wrestling announcer, complete with echo.

"Ohmigod!" Stretching across the center console, you wrap your arms around him. For the last two years, corroded Coffin had been trying to get a spot in the showcase. It's a huge annual event at a club in Shelbyville. The winners walk away with a regular gig, a cash prize, and bragging rights.

"That's so amazing. I'm so proud of you," his cheeks tint apple-red at your praise, "I can't believe I'm going to be the girlfriend of a rockstar. That is unless you decide to trade me in for one of your groupies."

"Hmmm," he closes one eye and sticks out his tongue as he taps his chin with one finger. Narrowing your eyes, you give his arm a playful slap as he holds his hand up. "Just give me a minute. I'm picturing the groupies."

That earns him a few more slaps as your mouth drops open in a huff. He catches your hand mid air and kisses your knuckles. "I'm kidding, baby. You're the only one I think about." He reaches out and runs his hand along your jaw. His big doe eyes turn soft, and you can see yourself in their reflection. "After the earthquake, I crawled through hell, and my only thought was getting back to you." 

His words leave your chest aching, and you crawl across the console into his lap, covering his mouth with yours. The memory of the unbearable pain when you thought you'd lost him is still fresh in your mind. His name was a constant prayer on your lips as you cried yourself to sleep at night. But he's here, flesh and blood, with scars that remain a mystery but are easily forgotten with his soft lips moving over yours and the evidence of his passion growing under your lap. 

"Let's go home," he says, breaking the kiss. With one more sweet press of your lips, you move back into your seat as he starts the van and pulls away from the curb.

"Eddie, will you still want to move if things are going well for the band?" You ask tentatively, not wanting to rain on his parade.

"I don't know," he shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on the road, "I'm just trying to get through the rest of high school. Everything else feels too far away to think about. You don't need to worry. We won't win anyway."

"Hey, don't talk like that. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't believe you could win," you say, placing a hand on his thigh, "I was just thinking we can't stay at Steve's forever. If we're staying in Hawkins, we should think about getting our own place."

"You're not happy at Steve's? It's a hell of a lot nicer than anything we could afford."

"I know, but eventually, we will wear out our welcome."

"Look, baby, he's a friend. You've seen the guy. He was almost catatonic before he got laid, and I need a place to live. Wheeler and Buckley would be having kittens worrying about him if we weren't there. If you don't like living in a mansion with a pool, for free I might add, you could always move home for a little while."

"You don't want to live with me?" You ask quietly, pulling your hand away and looking out the window. Eddie hadn't actually asked you to move in. Steve was the one that extended the offer after you had spent a few nights there.

"That's not what I'm saying," he sighs, "I'm broke. I owe Wayne money. I got Rick breathing down my neck. Sales are slow because the cops are still keeping an eye on me. I'm drowning in schoolwork. Then there's the band and the club and you to keep happy. I can't keep stacking more on top of all this shit."

"Okay, I'm sorry," your face is hot, and unshed tears sting your eyes. 

"I might as well tell you now that the band's going to practice more to get ready for the show. I know that's going to mean less time together for a while. Can you cut me a little slack for the next few weeks?" He asks, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Nodding your head, you swipe at your eyes, trying to calm yourself before the dam bursts. 

"Good girl. I love you."

♡♡

Hugging the throw pillow to your chest, you sit in the dark living room with the tv providing the only light. Your hands are sweating, and your muscles tense as you watch Bruce Willis run around trying to get his life back from the doppelganger that has taken over.

The big quiet house feels empty with Eddie and Steve gone during the day as you wander from room to room, straightening up as needed, gathering laundry to wash, and making up the beds. Eventually, you end up in the kitchen, where you pull out a few ingredients from the fridge and begin to prepare a few meals so that the boys can have something that will heat up quickly while you're at work. The tedium of the last few weeks has given way to loneliness. Sadly, the best part of your day has become the short ride to work, where Eddie's attention isn't occupied with school, music, or campaigns. Even though you are proud of him for following through with his commitments, you can't help but feel you are falling further and further down his list of priorities. When you're finished cooking, you seal the food in Tupperware and put it in the fridge. The containers from yesterday's meals sit clean in the drying rack. Despite Steve's protests against being looked after, he eats the dinners you leave for him. He has made himself scarce whenever Eddie isn't around, choosing to spend time in his room or out of the house, and you miss him.

"What are you watching?" Steve asks from where he's standing just behind the couch, causing you to jump out of your skin.

"Jesus. Holy shit," you say with your hand over your heart, trying to calm down, "I think I almost peed my pants."

"Sorry," he says, trying to hide his laughter, "Watching The Twilight Zone in the dark, huh? You're brave."

"Turns out not so much," you toss the throw pillow at him, and he catches it easily.

"No Eddie tonight?" He tosses the pillow back onto the couch. 

"Nope. Band practice. The showcase is coming up." 

"Ah," He shakes his head, understanding. He hovers hesitantly in the entryway before he coming further into the room. "What did you do with your day off?" He asks, taking a seat on the edge of one of the overstuffed armchairs that flank the couch.

"Not much," you answer, pulling your knees up to your chest and crossing your arms over them, "I made some of the chicken and vegetables you like. I can heat it up for you if you want?"

"I already ate…but I'll have it tomorrow for lunch. Thank you for cooking."

"Sure." 

The narrator's monotone voice wraps up the first half of the show. "A man who lost himself...and found himself...on a lonely battlefield, somewhere...in the Twilight Zone."

"There is still the second story left. You could watch it with me? Protect me from all the scary things in the dark?" You ask, hopefully.

"I’m meeting Robin. Just stopped home to change." He says, standing and pointing back towards the door. 

"Oh, okay. Maybe next time. Tell Robin hey for me," you look away from him, turning back towards the tv, trying to hide your disappointment. He stands there for another moment before moving towards the stairs. He's doing the right thing, the commendable thing, but your heart can't help wanting him. His footsteps fade on the stairway as you try to focus on the screen and not the boy upstairs.

As if he times it perfectly, the commercials are just finishing when he plops beside you wearing sweats and an old t-shirt. "I thought you were going out?" You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to give away how happy you are to have his company.

"I'm tired," he says, keeping his eyes on the tv, "Besides, I don't want to have to clean pee off the couch."  

Laughing, you bump his shoulder with yours. Circling his elbow with your arm, you lay your head against his shoulder as the announcer appears on the screen. 

"Is this okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah. It's okay."

"Good morning, beautiful," Eddies whispers early the next morning, his lips lightly brushing the shell of your ear.

He hadn’t been home when you had gone to bed last night. After finishing the episode plus one more curled around him, Steve walked you to your room like the end of date. The two of you lingered in the hall thinking of things to say to keep each other there longer. Eventually saying your good nights before falling asleep in your cold, empty bed alone.

But now you're floating in that dreamy place between wake and sleep. Laying almost on your stomach with your left leg hiked up, the t-shirt you put on last night bunched up around your waist, Eddie’s warm chest pressed against back and his deft fingers stroking softly between your legs.

“Hmmm, Eddie,” you moan softly, eyes still closed, already incredibly wet, your body responding before your mind could catch up. “I’m here,” his breath fans over your jaw. Warm pluses of sleepy arousal radiate from your core, traveling through your body, making every brush of his smooth skin against yours feel electric. Clutching the sheets and blankets to your chest, your hips start to move, grinding against the very ready, very hard cock pressed against your ass. 

“Fuck baby, kiss me,” his mouth desperate for a taste of yours. Turning your head, his lips find you. His tongue dips into your mouth, sliding against yours in a slow wet kiss. The tiny cry that bubbles from your throat is muffled by his mouth as two fingers push into your slick channel, him giving you what you need before you can ask for it. His fingers pump in and out of you dragging against your spongy walls before gliding slowly through your folds to circle your clit, lighting you up like a sparkler before sliding back down, spreading your slick to the tight ring of your ass, and then up to repeat the process. 

"Eddie, shit…I need this…need you," you whine, reaching behind you running your hand up and down the velvety skin of his cock earning you an impassioned groan. 

“I know you do,” he helps you out of your shirt and rolls you on to your back. His beautiful face hovering over you and you realize just how long it’s been but now he’s here, sleepy eyes drunk with desire, lips berry red and swollen from kissing you.

“You are so fucking sexy,” you softly murmur while trailing your hand over his tatoos and lower down the expanse of his chest. His cheeks glow cupid-pink only adding to the effect. “Me?” he chuckles, returning your touch, letting his fingers drift over your hard nipples, “Do you know how much I want you? How much I always want you?”  He dips his head, wetly nipping down the column of your neck. 

“Show me you,” you rasp as his mouth closes over your breast, sucking, his tongue swirling over your nipple. Wandering fingers work their way into your heat, one breaching the tight ring of your ass while two others fill your pussy. Your hips roll, working him deeper inside you. He’s everywhere, filling you, tasting you, worshiping at your altar, pleasure flames through you and you lose control wantonly moaning.

“I need to fuck you.” He growls, his voice rough and strained as his mouth returns to yours sucking in your bottom, gently biting to remind you to answer. "I want you.. Eddie…please fuck me,” you helplessly whimper as pulls away leaving you empty and desperate. Knowing what you both want, you roll to your belly and lift your hips. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he pumps himself, his eyes trained on your glistening pussy. “I can’t go slow. I’m sorry,” he warns as he lines himself up at your slick entrance. The need for each overpowering any rational thought. He drives into you in one smooth stroke, both of you crying out at the way you fit together. He thrust forward as you work your hips back, meeting each other in a frenzy. His hands run up and down your back, the tender touches a contrast to the hard deep thrusts of his dick, setting you ablaze inside and out as he moves in ceaseless rhythm, both of  you flying towards release.”I’m close,” your inner muscles tighten as that exquisite pressure builds deep inside you. 

"I can feel it, baby," his fingers move to circle your clit, sparking the fuse that has your orgasam exploding through you. A few more thrusts, and he's pulling out of you working himself through his release, spilling his thick, rich cum onto your back. You collapse onto your stomach enjoying the aftershocks and he drops down beside you a grin stretching across his face. Laughing, you lean over and press a small kiss to his cheek.

"I love you," he tells you, as he wipes your back with your discarded t-shirt. He's giving you a few more soft kisses when you hear a door slam and footsteps moving down the stairs. "I think we woke up Steve," Eddie says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, "Let's clean up, and after breakfast, I'll make you dirty all over again."

Turning off your blow dryer, you study your hair in the mirror, smoothing down any stray locks. Deciding you're pleased with the results, you leave your room to join Eddie for breakfast. The sound of Eddie and Steve talking and laughing in the kitchen brings a smile to your face as you descend the stairs. Their conversation continues as you enter the room. Reaching into the cabinet, you grab an empty mug and fill it with the coffee that sat waiting for you in the half-full pot. When you join them at the table, Eddie's hand moves to your leg, and Steve doesn't so much as glance in your direction. 

"I'm sorry I didn't wait for you." Eddie gestures to the bowl in front of him containing a small amount of colored milk and a few stray Froot Loops, "I'm gonna go smoke. Do you want me to stick some bread in the toaster for you?"

"Yes, please," you reply as you bring the mug to your lips and blow a little steam off before taking a sip. He drops a kiss on your head and stands to start your toast before heading out the sliding door. 

"Do you have plans today?" You ask Steve, keeping your voice light, trying to make conversation. But he doesn't answer you. He stands, taking his empty plate with him. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your words stop him mid-stride. He pauses for only a moment, keeping his back to you. His head lowers and shakes from side to side. 

"What are you sorry for?" The harsh tone of his voice startles you more than the plate breaking into pieces as he throws it into the sink. 

Your lips part but no sound escapes them. The emotions rampaging inside won't let you settle on a thought. 

"I shouldn't have lost my temper," his voice returns to even and normal as he picks up the shards and moves them to the trash, "I'm going to be late tonight. Don't bother with any dinner for me." Without another word, he leaves you alone. 

The new greens of spring are giving way to the vibrant deep hues of summer. There wasn't a cloud to be found in the clear blue sky, and the weather report on the radio promised a full day of perfection. The golden sun feels like a kiss against your skin, its warmth heating you from head to toe as you recline in your two-piece on one of the loungers Steve had set around the pool. Pushing the mirrored aviators higher on your nose, you look beside you at Leigh, lying on her stomach, flipping through a magazine. Deciding the weather was too good to enjoy alone, you called and asked her if she'd like to come over before her shift started. 

"All I'm saying is that Andrew would have been a much better match for Claire than Bender. I mean, how long do you think that's going to actually last?" Leigh muses.

"Don't be such a cynic. It could work out. Besides, Andrew and Ally are cute together." 

"Hello, ladies," Steve says as he slides the glass door shut behind him. Your eyes take in the sharp cut of his muscled shoulder before following the light trail of hair starting below his belly button and disappearing under the hem of his low-slung swim trunks.

"You're home early," you say, grateful that your sunglasses hide your ogling. No matter how often you see this man shirtless, the sight of his bare chest makes your throat dry. It doesn't help that you know the feeling of the bristly hair that covers his pecs rubbing against your skin. 

"It's too nice of a day to be inside," he walks between the loungers to set his Raybans on the table next to you, and you feel his eyes move over your body before he turns toward Leigh. "Hi. I'm Steve Harrington," he says, extending his hand to her.

"Oh, I know who you are," she says, sitting up to grasp his hand. Her cheeks bloom scarlet, and by the dumbfounded look on her face, one would think it was Emilio Estevez shaking her hand instead of Steve.

"This is Leigh," you tell Steve since the girl is too flustered to give him her name.

"It's nice to meet you, Leigh," he says, giving her a wink.

"Leigh works with me at Enzo's. She's a junior in high school," you say, ignoring the annoyed look that Leigh gives you for pointing that out. 

"Oh yeah? You must be happy that the year is almost over," he says, stepping onto the diving board, "I know Eddie is." He not so subtly reminds you that your boyfriend is also still in high school. With near-perfect form, he dives in and starts swimming laps back and forth across the pool.

"This is his house? You live with Steve Harrington?" Leigh asks you in an excited whisper. 

"Yeah. He's giving us a place to stay for a while," you shrug.

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

'I don't know. Maybe," you try to keep the irritation out of your voice as you watch Steve's long body slicing through the water.

After a few more laps, he pulls himself up the ladder. The water runs off his body, highlighting his fair skin dotted with freckles. He pushes his hair back as he walks over and takes a seat at the end of your lounger, dripping cool water on the heated skin of your legs. 

"If I had known they had such pretty girls working at Enzo's, I'd be eating there more often," he says, flashing Leigh a devastating smile. She giggles in response. 

"I'm going to get something to drink," you say, getting up and slipping on your sandals, not wanting a front-row seat to whatever this is leading to. 

The air in the house feels cool after being in the sun. Your flip-flops slap against the tile of the kitchen floor as you walk to the fridge and take out the pint of strawberries you had washed earlier. Biting into one, you let the sweet juice fill your mouth before taking a glass out of the cabinet and filling it from the tap. Steve comes in a minute later with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"She's thirsty," he says in the way of explanation as he pulls two glasses from the cabinet. 

"I bet," you mumble, nibbling on another strawberry.

"What was that?" He asks, leaning over to snag one of the berries for himself. You're rendered temporarily speechless as you watch his lips close over the sweet flesh of the berry, leaving the crown between his fingers. 

"Nothing," you say, shaking your head to clear it. He moves to the fridge and pulls out a pitcher of lemonade to fill the glasses. 

"Think I should ask her out?" He takes a butter knife from the drawer and cuts a few strawberries to add to the glasses.

"Do whatever you want," you say, sipping your water, "it might be weird since I have to work with her, though." 

He can see right through your flimsy reasoning and doesn't even try to hide his cocky smile. He's about to say something else when the slider opens, and Leigh comes in from the pool. 

"I didn't realize it was so late. I have to leave for work," she says, grabbing the tote she left on the island earlier. She moves closer to Steve, "Do you want my number?" She asks him, batting her lashes, trying to look coy.

"Sure," he says, pulling out a pen and the pad of paper usually used for grocery lists from the drawer next to the sink. "It was nice meeting you," he says, taking back the pen once she's finished.

"Likewise," she says, walking backward and almost tripping," Thanks for inviting me. I'll see you at work." She waves to you as she leaves the kitchen. Steve waits to say anything else until he hears the click of the front door closing. 

"She's pretty cute, yeah? She certainly seems…eager," he says to you, smiling. 

"Who's eager?" Eddie asks, entering the room. He must have passed Leigh on her way out. 

"Leigh," you say flatly as he gives you a quick peck on the lips. 

"Oh yeah? You gonna ask her out? I say go for it, Harrington. The girl's a fox."

"What?" You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. 

"Come on, baby. You know you're gorgeous, but I still have eyes," he says, trying to explain.

"She's hot, right?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrows and chuckling.

"Definitely," Eddie says, throwing an arm over your shoulder, "How well do you know this girl, baby? Maybe we can invite her next time we want to...spice it up."

Steve chokes on his lemonade, and you can feel the blood rushing to your face and neck. Fury. That's what you feel about his proposal. 

"I have an idea," you say, knocking Eddie's arm off your shoulder, "how about you two fuck yourselves and leave me out of it."

You can hear both boys giggling as you stomp up the stairs and slam your door.

"He's scorching hot. You are so lucky. You have no idea," Leigh says, practically swooning as she follows you around Enzo's with a stack of menus and hearts in her eyes.

"Yeah. Lucky me," you grumble, collecting the tip and stacking the dirty dishes from your last table onto a tray. It was an oddly quiet Friday night, leaving the staff plenty of time to dish, and apparently, you are on the menu. Twice now, you've approached the swinging kitchen door hearing laughter and excited murmurings from inside, but as soon as you cross the threshold, all conversation comes to a halt. Everyone is suddenly busy and unwilling to meet your eyes. 

"He hasn't mentioned me at all?" Nothing I'm going to tell you about. 

"Nope. Sorry. You know, Steve's just my roommate. I'm trying to focus on my boyfriend," you say in a clipped tone, adding a smile to soften your words. Picking up the tray, you start toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, I guess you would be," she says from behind you.

"What does that mean?" You ask, turning to face her. Her mouth snaps shut, and her eyes go wide. She hugs the menus to her chest while her face turns three shades of red.

"Just tell me, Leigh," you say impatiently, balancing the tray on your hip.

"Well…I don't think this," she stutters, her eyes looking everywhere but at your face. "Everyone is saying…now that everyone knows Eddie didn't kill Chrissy. They're wondering what they were doing together. That's all."

"Is that what everyone's gossiping about?" You ask, rolling your eyes and continuing to the kitchen with Leigh right behind you. The kitchen goes as quiet as a church as soon as you enter. Sighing loudly, you unload your tray. 

"Everyone knows that Eddie sells. That's not news," you say loud enough for the rest of the kitchen to hear, "Obviously, she wanted some weed," not one person in the kitchen looks up, even though they're clearly listening. Grabbing a bottle of cleaner and cloth, you leave the kitchen to finish cleaning your table.

"Hold this," you pass the cleaning supplies to Leigh who is sticking with you like a bad penny. Carefully, you fold the soiled table linens, so the crumbs don't fall to the floor. 

"It's just that..Eddie sells to people in the woods or out of his van, but no one's been to his place before." 

She's not wrong, and it's been on your mind since Eddie's return. At first, you were just happy to have him back, but he refuses to answer any questions about Chrissy or where he had been, or how the heck he wound up being best pals with Steve Harrington, and you don't know what to think.

"I don't know, Leigh," you trade the wrapped linens for the cleaner, "there was an earthquake. Everything was crazy. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Pausing, you wait for her response. 

She steps closer and lowers her voice,"They think Eddie and Chrissy were having an affair, and Jason found out. He caught them at Eddie's trailer, and he killed her. Then he tried to kill Eddie, but he got away, and Jason killed himself."

Bile rises in your throat, as you set down the cloth and cleaner with shaking hands. Your chest and neck heat, and you pause long enough to be sure your voice won't break as you answer. 

"He wouldn't do that. He loves me." 

"Of course, he wouldn't. It's just gossip," Leigh says, placing her hand on your arm. Her assurances sound sticky sweet, but they sour as they reach your ears.

"Can you finish for me? I need the ladies' room."

 Without waiting for an answer, you leave her with the mess. After turning the lock, you slide down the back of the closed door until you're sitting on the tiled floor, ignoring how gross it probably is. A few weeks ago you never would have entertained the idea that Eddie would ever cheat on you, then again you would have never entertained the idea of cheating on him. Despite whatever you feel for Steve, you have no doubt that you love Eddie, and he loves you. But now you understand how quickly feelings can be kindled and how a fire can quickly get out of control. The watch on your wrist tells you the restaurant will be closing in ten minutes, enough time to pull yourself together before Eddie picks you up. The cold water you splash on your face calms your heated cheeks and as you study your reflection in the mirror you wonder if maybe you deserve this. Or maybe he does.

"Are you sure I can't give you a ride?" Leigh asks for the tenth time. 

"I'm sure. Eddie will be here any minute. You don't have to wait," you say, crossing your arms across your chest, standing on the very edge of the curb while looking up and down the deserted street and rechecking your watch. 

"That's what you said forty minutes ago," she points out, "maybe he forgot?"

"He didn't forget. He has Hellfire tonight. He's just running late," the irritation inside you's bubbling like a pot about to boil over. It's clear Leigh's offer is more about her wanting to see Steve than her concern for you. 

"Oh, yeah. That's like a board game, right?"

"Something like that," setting down your purse, you use both hands to run circles on your temples.

"How old is Eddie?"

Before you can say something you may regret, a maroon BMW smoothly pulls up to the curb in front of you. Without another word to Leigh, you round the passenger side and climb into the waiting car. Steve gives her a little wave as he drives off toward home. 

"When did he call you?" You ask Steve after a few minutes of quiet.

"I dunno, about fifteen minutes ago," sinking back into the soft leather seat, you shake your head, "You know how they get when they're playing."

"Don't defend him," the passing lights fade in and out as you study his profile while his eyes stay fixed on the road. 

"Okay, I won't."

♡♡

"Will you come talk with me for a bit?" you ask, tipping your head to the side.

Steve flips the switch, lighting the foyer of the otherwise dark and quiet house. He drops his keys in the small stained glass bowl on the wooden console table just behind the door. A quick, sympathetic smile crosses his face as he lifts the strap of your heavy purse off your shoulder and places it next to his keys. He looks as worn out as you feel. 

"Nah, I'm going to go up," he hitches his thumb toward the stairs before resting his hands on his hips.

"Just for a few minutes," you tell him, grabbing hold of his hand, "Come on, I'll make us some tea," he lets you pull him into the kitchen and makes himself comfortable leaning against the counter as you fill the kettle from the tap. 

"How are things at the shelter?" the blue flame pops and comes to life as you adjust the knob on the cooktop before setting the kettle to boil.

"People are getting what they need. Most of the families have been set up in temporary housing. Soon there won't be much to do but serve meals," he chews thoughtfully on his lip as he watches you move about the kitchen. 

"That's good, right?" 

"Yeah. Definitely. What about you? How was your night?" 

"It was slow," the earthy sweet aroma of the herbal tea hits your nose as you lift the lid of the cardboard box, "Leigh was driving me crazy. She wouldn't stop talking about you," he stays quiet but one side of his mouth lifts into a smirk, "Are you hungry? I can make something to eat?"

The kettle begins to whistle, and you move it to another burner and turn off the flame while you wait for his reply. 

"You don't have to take care of me."

"I like taking care of you," steam rises out of the mugs as you pour the hot water from the kettle over the tea bags. 

"You're good at it. But I shouldn't get used to it," he runs his hands through his hair, "I'm always getting myself into these impossible situations with girls. The ones I take out, they're never right for me. And the ones that I like, I'm never right for them. The first week you were here, and I saw you with Eddie, I thought that's it. That's what I want, someone to give a shit, you know?"

"Steve, plenty of people give a shit. Nancy, Robin, me," you explain, placing your hand on his bicep.

"You have no idea of the irony in that statement," he chuckles and shakes his head.

Moving closer, you slip your arms around his waist, your thumb brushes against his belt loop, and you rest your head against the solid mass of his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart, "I care about you.. so much."

His chest expands as his breathing deepens, and his arms close around you, one big hand tangling in your hair, tipping your head back. His eyes work like a key in a lock, opening your heart so he can climb inside. 

"Not the way I want you to." 

"You're wrong," you shake your head, the truth slipping out so easily.

"It doesn't matter," he says, pulling away. His hands fall to your shoulders to gently loosen your hold. 

"No," panic builds as the word escapes, reminding you of that afternoon you begged him to stay. Knowing now, as you did then, if he leaves, it will be his last goodbye.

"We can't," his grip on your shoulders tightens, and he shakes you, trying to get you to understand.  

"I just want to be close to you. Please," the high pitch of your cracking voice sounds desperate, even to your own ears. 

"It's too hard," pain is visible on his face as he reaches back to unwrap your fingers from where they are digging into the skin of his back. 

Without a second thought, you stretch to your tiptoes and press your lips to his. Tears burn behind your closed eyes, and your heart pauses its beat in the loud silence of the moment, waiting to see if he'll return your kiss. His strong thick fingers smooth over the soft skin of your neck until his thumbs can angle your jaw. A low noise rumbles from his throat, and his decadent mouth opens to you. The kiss begins deep and delves further as he takes control. His plush lips work to taste every curve and dip of your mouth while his tongue slides against yours. Soft hmms and hums float on the air that escapes your hungry mouths as the desperation increases, and you pull him closer. His hands drift down your neck and move lower, lightly grazing your breasts before settling on your waist, where he's tugging the hem of your shirt free from your skirt and inching it up your stomach.

The creak of a heavy door slamming has him pushing you away and turning to face away from where Eddie is entering the room. Picking up your mug of tea, you sip the lukewarm liquid trying to hide your swollen lips. 

"What the fuck? Am I interrupting something?" Eddie asks, his eyes darting around the scene in front of him. 

Placing your mug on the counter, you walk around him without a word heading toward your room with the sound of his heavy footsteps behind you.

"You're mad at me?" Eddie asks incredulously once you shut the door to your room. 

"I'm not mad. I'm disappointed," you say, tucking a leg underneath as you sit on the bed and grab a pillow holding it in your lap like a shield.

"Jesus Christ. Thanks, Wayne," he paces back and forth while he scrubs his face with his hands, "Just because I was a few minutes late?"

"It's not because you were late. It's because I can't rely on you."

"Oh, but you can rely on Steve? Is that why the two of you jump apart and stop talking the minute I come in the fucking kitchen?"

Relief washes through you that he hadn't seen more, "This isn't about Steve. It's about you and me. I'm tired of being the only grown-up in this relationship," you say, keeping your eyes downward. The guilt you haven't even begun to process doesn't wipe away the fact that you and Eddie have problems that have been stacking up.

"The only grown-up…are you fucking kidding me?" he asks with a red face. He's never yelled at you before, and you can't stop the tears from slipping past the rims of your eyes. His voice wavers as he tries to hide his emotion, "I've got responsibilities coming out of my ass here. I don't need this shit from you. You and Steve can play house together. I'll go sleep in my fucking van."

The sound of the door slamming echoes through the house. Slumping forward, you cry into the pillow you've been clutching. Eddie's pillow. Tears soak through the material, and you inhale his scent, tobacco, shampoo, and a hint of old spice. He'd never been perfect, but you loved him anyway, the nervous boy sitting in the diner ordering pie he didn't want-just to be close to you. A short time ago, you thought you'd lost him for good, and now you're giving him up so easily. 

Before you can convince yourself letting him go is the right thing to do, your hand is on the doorknob, and you're running down the stairs. Pausing for only a moment as you reach the front door. Steve stands in the hallway, the air between you full of unspoken words. Turning away from him, you open the door. The pavement is cold and rough under your bare feet as you chase the taillights of Eddie's van down the driveway. But you're too late, or so you think, until brake lights blink on and the van comes to a stop. The driver's door opens, and Eddie steps out to catch you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," both of you say, speaking over each other. And you are, for so many things. Things you'll never tell him about.

"Where did we go, baby? We don't feel like us anymore. I'm losing you," he confesses, his voice thick and cracking. 

"No. No. I'm here, and I love you," you cry, pressed against his cheek. 

"Don't give up on me," he pleads.

Your hands grasp the sides of his face, moving him back so he can see your eyes, "I won't. I promise I won't," he pulls you tightly against him, and as you stand there while he slightly rocks you, you hope it's a promise you can keep. 

♡♡

Part 6

AN: Thanks for sticking with this story. I hope to wrap this up in maybe 2 more parts. OC Leigh was a tip of the hat to my good friend @loveshotzz. Congrats on your big milestone, kitten! Thanks for all your help. A big thanks to the rest of the squad all the late night ideas and read throughs. @myobmaya @boomhauer

♡♡

Tag List @boomhauer @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @munsonology @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @eddiessweetheart86 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @sllooney @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @samunson83 @spidey-fez @loving-and-dreaming

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

"Bigger FIsh Conundrum" Pt. 2

As in the previous part, Dr. Eggman and Dr. Wily are showing Chara some footage from a field test, demonstrating the “Bigger Fish” scenario. Upon finding what looked like a Smash invite in a public park, Waluigi was sent flying by DJ Octavio, DJ Octavio received a flying Metal Gear RAY to the face from Monsoon, Monsoon tried to break Porky’s Absolutely Safe Capsule, and then Fecto Elfilis sent both of the above to a dimension of pure agony…

Chara: “So what was the point of all that?”

Dr. Eggman: “Just keep watching, I swear there’s a method to our madness.”

||Video resumes||

Fecto Elfilis drops to the ground to inspect the Smash Invitation, but is suddenly approached by a familiar glowing butterfly.

Fecto Elfilis: “NOT AGAI-”

The butterfly absorbs Fecto Elfilis’ entire being, becoming Morpho Knight. The Fluttering Dream Eater then picked up where the former left off.

Morpho Knight: “Wait a minute; this is a forgery!”

Dr. Wily: “NOW, IVO!

Dr. Eggman suddenly runs out from a nearby bush and drenches Morpho Knight with a fire hose. Dr. Wily then catches Morpho Knight with an oversized butterfly net.

||Video end||

Chara: "So what you’re saying is…”

Dr. Wily: “The point is, if enough "bigger fish” appear, it eventually loops back around into something more manageable.“

Dr. Eggman: "On a side note, I managed to put Death itself in a jar.”

Dr. Eggman then produces a jar with Morpho Knight’s butterfly form trapped inside and fluttering furiously. Dr. Wily and Chara both stare at Dr. Eggman for a moment.

Dr. Wily: “You know what? Class is dismissed for today. If you need us, we’ll be figuring out what to do with our new asset…”

[seat-safety-switch]

The humble potato is man’s greatest ally against the forces of nature. This calorie-packed fistful of carbohydrates has been specifically bred by our ancestors to offer an easy solution to needing to eat. You can throw these suckers out your car while hauling the mail down the highway, and they’ll grow. Right there in the drainage ditch, year after year, forever, slowly taking over the biosphere.

Or at least that’s what I was told. A couple years ago, I decided to try and grow my own potatoes. Those billionaire turbo-fash ruling our grocery stores from their orbiting space stations had raised prices on staples one too many times, and it was my turn to take the mouldy Yukon Golds at the back of my fridge and bury them in the Earth. Like my proud forebears, I too would become a subsistence farmer, hewing food out of the very earth itself.

Friends, this manic urge lasted for about five seconds. And then I went back inside to try and find the loose float bowl for a Honda Monkey’s carb (it was in my cutlery drawer.) I forgot about it all summer, and then the next fall. In the middle of the night in November, I briefly remembered my spud project, but I soon forgot again. Then, the next fall, I had to move a front k-frame from a Thunderbird out of that corner of the yard, in the vain hope that the rat-infested 302 mounted to it was still a viable enough core to net me a Craigslist trade for a primo Mopar thermostat housing. And that’s where I saw it. Poking through the Earth were the leaves and flowers of my potato plant, struggling to reach sunlight.

I didn’t want to dig it up. I was afraid. I didn’t want to see that I had somehow failed at the anyone-can-do-it, super-easy introductory gardening project. And yet – I had visitors coming. Visitors from the newspaper. Perhaps they would want a baked potato. They would think glowingly of me and the profile would not immediately open with a story about my degenerate behaviour and generally erratic coot-like ideology. The fame might make people turn up to see my hoard of shit-box cars, at which point I could sneak out and remove their differentials while they weren’t looking. With a new resolve, I dug up the potatoes using an old fender liner, and washed them using the neighbour’s hose. They were perfect.

I’d like to tell you that my dinner with the newspaperman went well. Unfortunately, I didn’t have quite enough time to cook the potatoes, and especially not to boil off all the various solvents, oils, and heavy metals that had accreted in my soil (already marked for “reclamation by some other sucker” by the original owners) over the years. Sometimes I forget that not everyone has become as inured to the contaminants as I have. Weak stomachs and all that.

On the plus side, I had a handy new hole in my yard in which to dispose of the evidence. In a couple years, I’ll be able to wear their clothes without anyone becoming too suspicious – they were about my size, and it’ll save me a few bucks at the thrift store. They say gardening takes patience, after all.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really That Bad?

2023 was a really rough year for Disney. Marvel had two of the biggest flops, Quantumania and The Marvels, with only the phenomenal finale to the Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy wedged in between to give audiences faith; Star Wars didn’t fare much better, with divisive works like the third season of The Mandalorian and the first season of Ahsoka splitting the fanbase as usual; the live-action remake of The Little Mermaid floundered with critics and audiences alike, while Haunted Mansion was dead on arrival; the final Indiana Jones film got middling reviews, with some even saying it made Crystal Skull seem better in hindsight; and Elemental nearly burnt out at the box office due to abysmal advertising, only getting a second wind from positive word of mouth. Keep in mind, 2023 was the studio’s big 100th anniversary. Flopping this hard with all their major brands was not a good look. Thankfully, they had a really special animated film dropping for this historic anniversary, a film that was a big love letter to Disney history. It’s ostensibly a film about the origin of the wishing star other characters in other films wish upon—a novel concept to be sure! How did this premise pay off for Disney?

It bombed, with a net loss of $131 million. Keep in mind that films like Raya and Encanto, which also did poorly, had less time of theaters due to COVID. Also keep in mind Wish was advertised like crazy. Toys, clothes, ads, this movie got it all! And all of that likely contributed to how bad a financial failure it was. To make matters worse, critics were extremely mixed on the film, and the opinions of audiences weren’t much nicer. People had been skeptical from the first trailer, and so the film had an uphill battle to begin with, and sadly that uphill battle turned out to be a Sisyphean one, with the boulder slipping and rolling all the way back down to the bottom for Disney.

I genuinely had zero interest in ever watching this, and keep in mind I have access to Disney+ so it isn’t like I’d be paying specifically to see it. But I have a little daughter who became obsessed with the movie, and so I had to watch it about a dozen times. And with how much of a disaster this was for Disney, after the umpteenth viewing I decided I may as well give my thoughts. Is this movie any good, or is that just wishful thinking?

THE GOOD

I think it’s safe to say King Magnifico is the standout performance of the film. Chris Pine is clearly having an absolute blast playing the guy, and he manages to deliver a fun, upbeat, poppy villain song that succeeds despite some really bizarre and nonsensical lyrics. Sure, he’s not an S-tier villain or anything, but he’s a lot more fun and enjoyable than any of the mediocre twist villains Disney plagued us with during the 2010s. He’s an enjoyable asshole, consumed by his own ego.

Aside from his villain song, I do like some of the other music. “At All Costs” is a very nice, tender song; “Knowing What I Know Now” is a heroic “shit just got real” song, with a foreboding aura that nicely contrasts the villain’s lightehearted number; and “Welcome to Rosas,” a fun little iintro song for the story. Now, all of these songs have some issues (we’ll get tot hose in a bit), but they’re definitely fun and enjoyable if you can overlook some of the flaws.

I’m sure a lot of people found the numerous Disney references to be a bit much, and maybe even distracting, but I think they can get a pass just this once since this film is meant to celebrate one hundred years of Disney magic. Asha wearing the Fairy Godmother’s robe? Magnifico getting turned into the Magic Mirror? Peter Pan just randomly showing up for no fucking reason as a cameo? Sure, why not? And this all leads to the ending credits, where every Disney animated canon movie that isn’t a sequel gets represented (except for Meet the Robinsons, The Rescuers, and The Bkack Cauldron). You’ll see constellations of all your favorite characters, like Milo Thatch, Jim Hawkins, Yzma, Tarzan, and Yokai! Remember Yokai? From Big Hero 6? Clearly he was the right character to spotlight for this! I can’t harp too much on this, because every time I watch this I applaud and clap when Chicken Little appears.

THE BAD

So there are a few good songs, I admit. But for every good song, there’s two more that just plain suck or are entirely unfitting. “At All Costs” sounds like a a song about love and romance, so of course it plays… over the scene where Magnifico shows Asha all the wishes. Huh? What sense does that make? But a decent song being out of place is small potatoes compared to how absolutely bad the lyrics are. Even in the songs I like, like “This is the Thanks I Get” and “Knowing What I Know Now” there’s just something off with a lot of the lyrics and the rhyme scheme. But nothing in them is quite as egregious as the song “I’m a Star.”

“I’m a Star” might genuinely be the single worst song in any Disney animated film ever from a lyrical standpoint. The entire song is nothing but word salad; nothing in it makes any sense, and not once does it answer any of the questions it has posed. While some of the other songs have sloppy writing, they still are easily able to communicate core ideas that help progress the story. This song, though? It’s meaningless drivel made to pad the runtime. The absolute worst bit is this verse near the end, though:

Here's a little fun allegory

That gets me excitatory

This might sink in in the morning

We are our own origin story

If I'm explaining this poorly

Well I'll let star do it for me

It's all quite revelatory

We are our own origin story

None of this means anything. Like yeah dude, you are explaining this poorly. What the fuck are you trying to explain here? And while this is the worst verse, the worst lyric is right near the end where they painfully force a rhyme by having someone sing “Here I are” with “I’m a star.” No matter how many times I listen to these songs, this one coming on fills me with dread because of how painfully bad it is to the core.

I think the issue here is the lyrics were written by Julia Michaels, someone who typically works with pop, R&B, and EDM. She’s written for Britney Spears, Gwen Stefani, Justin Bieber… but notice she hasn’t written for any musicals. Say what you want about Lin-Manuel Miranda, but he knows how to write fun, poppy songs that would not sound out of pace in a stage musical---a core part of the appeal of the best Disney songs. The songs Michales wrote really don’t fit that vibe, and feel more like repurposed radio friendly pop tunes than something that belongs in a Disney movie. And maybe this wouldn’t be too bad of an idea if this weren’t supposed to be the big centennial celebration film.

But hey, maybe the songs are bad… which isn’t great, because a Disney musical with bad songs is on thin ice, but whatever! Maybe the characters can redeem this? Ehhhhhhhhh… Unfortunately, none of the characters in this film really do anything particularly special. Asha is cute and determined and all, and she’s definitely more compelling and less annoying than Raya, but she lacks a really solid identity. It honestly feels like she does things simply because the plot demands her, and not because it is in-character for her to do so—something that would require her to have a character in the first place. And despite being the best part of the film, Magnifico is a victim of the wonky writing as well. While it’s great he isn’t a twist villain, the writing really just makes the whole idea he’s bad guy seem stupid. I resent the idea his goal is in any way reasonable—he’s certainly an overly paranoid dick with an inflated ego even in the most charitable interpretations of his actions—but the movie still manages to make him somewhat sympathetic via his backstory only to have him grab a sled to slide on down that slippery slope. I don’t know, it just feels like these characters shift gears at the drop of the hat because the plot demands certain actions and roles from them.

Then we have the cutesy kid appeal characters, Valentino the goat and the wishing star. Valentino, played by Alan Tudyk in his millionth Disney role, is not nearly as insufferable as I’d feared he’d be. Unfortunately, he isn’t really good either. It really is sad how Disney keeps pushing him as their answer to Pixar’s John Ratzenberger yet refuse to give him good or fun roles to make an impact like Ratzenberger does. The guy hasn’t been utilized well since Wreck-It Ralph, it’s just getting sad. The wishing star is just a cutesy non-speaking plot device meant to sell marketable plushies, and pulls out new powers from its ass as the plot demands; it’s responsible for the awful “I’m a Star” as well as a cringeworthy chicken musical sequence. These characters really do feel like they exist solely to sell toys to children, because everything else aside they don’t really add to the experience—which is especially bad for the star! This is supposed to be his story!

And, look. Get it. They wanted to stick to something that is incredibly formulaic to pay tribute to all the tropes Disney codified for animated movies. But did they have to make the whole thing so predictable and safe? You can predict exactly what’s going to happen at any given time; there’s no real big twists or turns to be seen with this one. This is strictly formula, a very basic Disney story that couldn’t be more “paint by numbers” if it tried. You’d think they’d try to be a little more bold and daring after a hundred years, but… nah.

IS IT REALLY THAT BAD?

I think calling this movie “bad” is a bit harsh. It’s not exactly good, it’s messy and stupid and all that, but after seeing it so many times I really don’t think it’s as egregious or repugnant as something like, say, Pocahontas. But taking everything into consideration, the movie is extremely disappointing as a centennial celebration, and isn’t that worse in a way?

This was meant to be the film that pays tribute to a hundred years of animation, a love letter to a studio that has made some of the greatest artistic achievements in cartoon history, and it ended up like this? I think it’s pretty safe to say a better tribute would have been to return to hand drawn animation and make something like their classic output instead of a cliché storm of tired plot beats and nonsensical songs. The film feels really bland, safe, and corporate, like they were more concerned with selling merch and coasting off of the novelty of being the big animated release during the hundredth anniversary. And look how that turned out! My daughter spent a month earning enough cash to buy a King Magnifico doll, and it didn’t sell out in that entire time—and this was recently, too! Wish has long since left theaters, and the toys are getting their prices slashed because no one is buying them! Even kids, for the most part, don’t care about this one.

It’s just a bummer. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect more out if the richest company on Earth, is it? It really is a harmless, boring film, but it just feels so much worse than it actually is because we all know Disney can put more effort into their work and produce films that far outstrip this in quality and yet this is what they chose to represent them for a historic milestone. It really is rated fairly up there, it’s about what it deserves, but I hardly blame anyone who rates it even lower. It’s definitely not the worst Disney movie, but it sure is the most disappointing.

I’m glad my daughter likes it though, and honestly she’s probably why I’m not quite as harsh on the film as I was at first. Her enthusiasm for it is honestly infectious, even if at the end of the day I still think it’s kind of a lame movie. There’s definitely worse things to show your kids than Wish; if nothing else, it can make a decent gateway into other Disney movies. But that’s as charitable as I’m willing to get for Wish.

[be-events]

it’s summertime, wannabes! 

with massive heat waves hitting the country and temperatures rising to record-breaking numbers, it’s the perfect time to enjoy a refreshing weekend filled with music and fun at this year’s waterbomb festival! the popular music event is going global again this year with stops in multiple cities all around the world, but of course they’re taking seoul by storm as well!

the 2024 seoul edition will be held from august 2 to august 4 at the kintex outdoor global stage in the seoul metropolitan area. all throughout the event, as senior artists from all the axis label companies and more turn up the heat on the main stage, large-scale hoses and water guns are fired upon the crowd to help everyone cool off! 

attendants can purchase water guns and balloons of their own and interact with the many sponsored booths as they cool down during the day, and there are food booths on site for lovers of spicy fried chicken and frozen yogurt alike. official merch stands can also be found in the venue, and it’s a great opportunity for you to get a new shirt if yours gets too wet! 

tickets are available on the official waterbomb website and partner stores. you can also enter one of the official challenges on social media for a chance to win a pair of tickets to the event! and who knows, your dance challenge video might even go viral and net you some new followers too!

stay safe and hydrated, wannabes, and happy waterbomb season!

this event is for all muses and will run until august 28 at 11:59pm. any threads or solos posted after the deadline will not count toward points. please send in your points submission before this deadline.

please use the hashtag #be:waterbomb2024 for all posts relating to this event.

for +3 points in any performance or ancillary skills please write a 4-post thread with another member about your muses attending the festival. *this may be collected up to 3 times. 

for +5 points in presence or aesthetic please write a solo or 4-post thread with another member about your muse(s) recording the waterbomb challenge for any social media platform. here are some examples of the challenge: youtube & tiktok.

when you’ve completed all options that you’d like to participate in, please send the following form to our points submission blog:

submission title: muse name - waterbomb 2024

festival thread 1: +3 points to distribute to any performance or ancillary skills [ link to thread ]

festival thread 2: +3 points to distribute to any performance or ancillary skills [ link to thread ]

festival thread 3: +3 points to distribute to any performance or ancillary skills [ link to thread ]

dance challenge: +5 points in presence or aesthetic [ link to thread or solo ]

[lexa-griffins]

Those two pics of Clexa in the water 🥵

Did you have a rich Lexa / pool girl Clarke AU? Lexa is unashamedly teasing by squirting the hose suggestively - Poor Clarke is just trying to do her job, and eventually she snaps, done with Lexa's games, so she drags her under to deal with the rising problem below...

I do!!!!! Well Clarke is a pool girl/private bartender but yes! But oooohhh doesnt it fit so well!!!

Clarke's cleaning the pool. She has the hose next to her and well has the net and is just going around it while Lexa is supposedly sunbathing.

But the net breaks and falls into the pool, and Clarke goes to catch it with a groan, not really in the mood to get all wet. She hears the distinctive chuckle that could only belong to Lexa, and as she turns around, she catches Lexa messing around with the hose, holding her finger over the nozzle and letting it squirt all over herself.

"Lexa, let go of that." Clarke warns from inside the pool. She is really not in the mood.

Lexa does nothing more than smirk at her and twist the hose, tongue out as she lets the water spray all over her face.

The hardness in Clarke's short is instant and so is the annoyance at Lexa.

"I told you to let go of it Lexa. Youre not a fucking child."

Lexa smirk drops, annoyance at nor getting what she wants replacing it. She holds the hose in her hands still, the water dripping on her feet.

"And what are you gonna do? Spank me?"

Clarke hates her with a passion. The same passion that's got her stepping towards Lexa, her chest pushing water out of her sports bra, and she comes up from the pool. Lexa looks to be positively drooling over Clarke's chest and the hardness of her boner, the smirk back on her face knowing she won.

One second she's standing with Clarke in front of her the next she is coming up for air after being thrown in the pool, "you fucking bitch!"

Clarke chuckles at the brat, sitting on the edge of the pool, shorts already in hand. Lexa seems to quickly forget herself once Clarke's dick is out in its full glory and she doesnt need to be told before she is swimming in Clarke's direction on the deepest side of the pool, coming up for air right between Clarke's legs.

Her tongue immediately drags from the base to the tip of Clarke's dick, a delighted noise escaping her at the taste of the pre cum that already drips from it.

Clarke's hand comes to take hold of her hair with harshness, "You better make sure you dont let a single drop escape, im not spending a week cleaning the fucking pool for one drop of cum."

It feels so fucking good to make demands of Lexa about something that technically belongs to her. Rich brat who thinks she owns the world being made to take orders from an employee as below her as the pool girl.

And while Clarke basks in the joys of having Lexa at her mercy, Lexa hums happily, mouth full of Clarke's dick as she bops her head up and down its length, taking her fully to the back of her throat and back up to her lips on her tip.

As Clarke seems distracted Lexa unties the bottoms of her bikini, allowing her hand full freedom for three fingers to enter her pussy, fucking herself as she sucks Clarke off.

Lexa is good at what she does, on that Clarke can give her credit. It's only some six minutes later that Clarke is holding her head in place so she can fuck her mouth, ready to explode inside. She's a warrior Clarke will give her that, swallowing every single drop of cum without a single tear in her eyes as Clarke's cock hits the back of throat.

"Fuck youre good." Clarke praises as Lexa lifts her head to breath, cheeks red from the effort. She's dazed as she rushes to lick a white drop that threatens to fall down her shaft and into the water.

Clarke is about to praise her again when she sees the black bottoms floating in the pool.

"You bitch, you came." Clarke notes as Lexa brings her fingers, shinning with something that is definitely not water, to her mouth and licks them.

"Its still my fucking pool." Lexa tells her, pecking Clarke's lips, knowing the taste of their releases still lingers there before pushing herself off the pool naked from the waist down, uncaring as she wraps herself in her towel and retrieves inside the house.

Fucking bitch. Clarke is gonna drag her back out and make sure if she has to clean the pool, at least she's gonna make it worth her own while.

[matchagator]

Sheltered: Chapter 1

This is the first from our AO3 collection, making its way over to Tumblr. Stay tuned for weekly updates or visit here for the complete story.

{Main Pairings:} Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character, Choi Soobin/Original Female Character, Kim Taehyung/Original Female Character(s)

{Rating:} 18+

{Genre:} Alternate Universe - Hybrids

{Summary:} Realization finally dawned on Lily, knowing she now had the responsibility of three hybrids rather than three dogs. Her eyes grew wide while her eyebrows rose up in wonder before she turned her attention to her sister. The shocked expression of Rose had her smile sheepishly. “Well, at least we don’t have to name them.”

{Warnings:} Mature Language, Nudity, Mild Aggression

Rain slapped against the front of Lily’s pickup truck, the wipers working vigorously to sweep the droplets from the windshield as she drove in the dark evening atmosphere. She reached over to turn up the radio as the storm bounced off the top of her metal roof, surrounding her in a loud merciless roar. The lyrics of the song could barely be heard beyond the thick veil of rain pour, but yet a sharp ding resonated from the dashboard. She glanced at her fuel gauge, noticing a bright orange light in the shape of a gas pump glaring at her. 

She dramatically sighed as fatigue squeezed her limbs. “Shit.” She muttered, hitting her turn signal to pull over to the oncoming gas station. She quickly found an available place to park before getting out, holding her keys and wallet. She slumped to the machine next to her truck as she mechanically followed the usual protocols to start pumping gas into her vehicle. “I just bought groceries. I just want to go home.” She muttered to herself, plucking the pump handle from its holster to put it in her fuel tank. 

The hose clicked in place as she locked the handle before leaning against her truck. She tossed her head towards the gas station, eyeballing the atmosphere and debating to grab a slushie for the drive home. “Eh, fuck it.” She briskly moved across the lot, ducking under her arms from the rain to enter the building in hopes of a cherry-flavored treat. 

After waiting in an obnoxiously slow line as someone bought instant win scratch-offs, Lily emerged back to her truck, large slush in hand, to find it was filled to the brim and ready for her to head back out on the road. She timidly pulled the handle out of the funnel then placed it back in the holster subconsciously checking the total cost of her gas purchase before finally hopping in the driver’s seat. 

She turned on the ignition, happy to see her gas light was gone, but surprised to see another warning light shining on her dashboard. Her eyebrows furrowed as she glanced back through the small back window only seeing the truck bed cover. She sighed with annoyance as she pushed open her door and walked towards the back of her truck. She paused next to her rear tire when she noticed her tailgate was laid open. She looked at the door curiously, leaning down to check the bed of the truck until a flash of lightning struck in her peripheral. 

She squeaked as she shut the tailgate before dashing back into the safety of her truck, her heart pounding as thunder clapped through the air. She exhaled to calm her nerves, “Alright let’s go home.” She turned up the music and pulled away from the pump in hopes the storm would stop once she was back at the house. 

The journey home was relatively short and while the rain had yet to let up, the lightning was off in the distance. She opened the two-car garage, backing the truck into the dry space to easily unload the groceries from the cargo net in the back. She slowly moved around the bed to lift the tonneau and nearly had a heart attack when she heard an aggressive growl. She held the cover closed, trying to fathom what the noise was coming from her trunk. 

A soft whimper caused her to tentatively glance inside only to find three large dogs huddled towards the front of the truck bed. “How the hell… how did you get in here?” She lifted the tonneau further to get a better look at the inconceivable circumstance.

 The first dog was hunched in front of the others protectively with a thin shiny coat of black and brown. The scowl of his snout was evidence of the growl she heard previously. She moved slowly, reaching out to offer him her hand. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” She cooed, hoping the doberman wouldn't bite her. 

A smaller dog poked its head out from behind the doberman, ears pressed down as it sniffed in her direction. The coat was thicker and drenched from the rain with a beautiful combination of white, black, and gray. It slowly moved around the intense doberman and nuzzled against her hand. She noticed with the acceptance from the speckled border collie, the doberman released the tension in its jaw. 

As she encouraged the border collie with affection, she took a final look to see a mess of white and black digging its head into a grocery bag. That’s when she noticed the crumbs splayed all over the bed of her truck with bits of the plastic bags chewed up from where the dogs broke into her grocery run. “I see you helped yourself.” The Siberian husky crunched loudly on a morsel as his large eyes looked in her direction.

She chuckled despite herself, “I wonder what Rose will say.”

—

 “Absolutely not!” Rose hollered after her older sister’s ridiculous proposal. “I can’t believe you brought three of them home.” Rose pressed her fingertips to her temples, exhausted from a long day of studying and the eccentric behavior of Lily.

 While Rose was busy with her head buried in her schoolbooks, Lily snuck the three large dogs into the house to grab towels and dry them off. However, the husky refused to stay silent and howled throughout the expanse of the house, his sound echoing off the high ceilings. When the younger sister emerged from her room to find dirty puddles running through the halls from their paws, she was already at the end of her rope. Then she found them shaking themselves dry all over the living room furniture, splattering the fabric of the couch with drops of muddy rainwater. 

 “I didn’t bring them here! They snuck into my truck!” Lily defended as she rubbed a towel over the thick hair of the husky to dry him off. The doberman stood facing Rose and in front of the others as if blocking her from them while the collie laid submissively on another towel, ears pressed down against his head.

 “Yeah, like I’m gonna believe that.” Rose huffed, crossing her arms and glaring down at the offending doberman. “We can’t keep them. So, wherever you got them, you need to take them back tomorrow.”

 The border collie whimpered as he looked up between Rose and Lily. Lily stopped running the towel over the husky and moved towards the collie, wrapping the towel around his body like a burrito. “Can you find them some food? Please?” She smiled brightly at her sister as she petted the collie soothingly.

 Rose only groaned as she walked over towards the kitchen, scavenging in the pantry for food suitable for dogs. Once she was away, the doberman relaxed and moved to jump on the couch. Lily cringed as she noticed the fabric of the sofa got wet from his fur but bit her tongue as she continued to dry off the dog lying down in front of her. 

 “You know, I was thinking the border collie would suit a human name like Jack or Noah. What do you think?” Lily projected her voice toward the kitchen, hoping to rope her sister into naming them and growing attached. She bit her lip in anticipation of Rose’s response.

 “We’re not naming them!” She heard from the kitchen, causing her to roll her eyes. She laughed it off, persistent in achieving her goal.  

 “Human names? Okay, maybe something fun and sporty like Maverick or Dynamite.” She ruffled the ears of the collie, cooing nonsense to the dog as her sister went on a rant from the kitchen. She hummed with affection as she ran her fingertips under his muzzle despite the nagging lecture from her younger sister about responsibility. 

 “How about JK?” A deep voice spoke, causing Lily to pause with fear as she held the muzzle of the collie in her hands. She slowly turned her head in the direction of the voice and screamed when she witnessed a stark-naked man sitting casually on their couch. He sat with his legs comfortably spread out, his frame exceedingly larger than that of the doberman previously in his place. His body was toned and sculpted by inherent athleticism as the natural tan of his skin portrayed his muscles. 

He brushed his black hair from his face, the strands damp like the rest of his body. She crawled away from the sight, averting her eyes away from his dewy skin as if he had just walked out from a fresh shower. His large eyes stared at her with a blank expression, challenging her with a quirk of an eyebrow to respond. She glanced around only to find that the doberman was gone, and she began panicking. “W-where?” She could barely speak as her nerves rattled from this strange man being in their home.

 Rose stepped away from the kitchen and looked at her sister with concern, “Why did you…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes flicked towards the couch to also take in the naked man dripping on their couch, not even bothering to cover his indecency. “Who the hell are you?” She asked with alarm in her voice. 

 He simply smirked in her direction, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “My name is Jungkook, but I prefer JK.” He leaned against the back of the couch and draped his arms across the sofa like he was asserting his dominance by taking up the most space in the room. He looked at Lily, waiting for her to meet his eyes. “I’m a hybrid, a doberman hybrid.”

 The women froze as their jaws slowly dropped in awe. They were aware of the existence of hybrids but had rarely encountered the change, only ever seeing them as either animal or human. Then she realized that the aggressive dog from earlier was now this undeniably attractive man.

 “Woah.” Lily whispered simply, unable to process any other words. Her experience with hybrids was novice, but she was intrigued all the same. She knew the rules for owning hybrids were far more complicated than any other domestic pet.

 Then the other dogs began to shift, their bodies expanding into the built figure of naked men. Rose was shaking as she watched in horror the husky turn first, curling his arms around his legs as he sat on the floor next to the couch. She was grateful that his strong legs covered the appendage between his legs; already mentally exhausted from one unexpected view. 

 Much like Jungkook, the husky hybrid had black hair and a toned frame. However, his body was leaner, and his facial features included narrower-shaped eyes and mouth. He smiled sweetly at the sisters despite the fact he was uncomfortably naked. “I’m Soobin.” He leaned his chin on his knee as his eyes danced between them with glee. 

 Finally, the border collie was ready to share his human appearance as he hunched over from his previous spot on the floor. He timidly moved to pull his towel around his body to hide his bareness like a gentleman. His dark eyes seemed scared as he looked at the women, a shy smile on his lips as he waved a hand. “I’m Taehyun.” His hair was dark with tones of gray and white much like his dog form. He had a smaller frame than the others, but that only served to give him a more pronounced profile as his features enhanced his figure. 

 Realization finally dawned on Lily, knowing she now had the responsibility of three hybrids rather than three dogs. Her eyes grew wide while her eyebrows rose up in wonder before she turned her attention to her sister. The shocked expression of Rose had her smile sheepishly. “Well, at least we don’t have to name them.”

 She tried to laugh off the nerves bunched through her, but the way Rose nearly twitched in irritation told her she had a lot more to worry about. A fire blazed in the blue of her irises. “Oh, hell no!”

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