I'm gonna be frank, Eddie just does not give me the impression that he was bullied all that much in high school to me. Especially as he got older, like he was the school drug dealer, he was not getting beat up by the same jocks who were going to be buying from him later that week. It just doesn't make sense to me!
I'm not saying he was never bullied at all (personally I think he was probably bullied by the people in his grade in like middle school, but leant more into the satanic image by the time he got to high school (which is when the satanic panic wouldve been starting) and people became more afraid to mess with him or it stopped when BS started dealing) or that people can't headcanon and project onto pm. It's fandom, do what you want lol. I've just gotten to the point where fics lose me whenever they claim Tommy/Steve/Jason was going around beating the shit out of him or shoving him in the halls every week or the like. Eddie just does not give the impression that he is scared of the jocks normally. He looks down on them and thinks he's better than them! He taunts them openly in front of everyone and pontificates on table tops.
I think if you take it in that context too, it makes the town turning on him more sinister? Like obviously, satanic panic was only growing at that point, and it was within the last year or two they started pointing at metal and D&D as recruiting centers for satanic cults. (Eddie also like an asshole is walking around with a satanic symbol on his jacket - peak edgy teen in the middle of a moral outcry.) But while people might've been afraid of him, and most definitely talked about him behind his back, that's worlds away from mob violence. The change was startling, even if Eddie might be able to see it on the horizon.
Idk to me that's more of what the hunt the freak line was about. The knowledge that they could turn on you and would if you gave them a reason (or if you want to go with the Eddie is closeted interpretation - if he got outed). I think he probably has been called the freak for a while but honestly I think he's proud of it at this point.
Obviously all of this is up to interpretation, I guess I've just gotten to the point where a lot of the popular fanon interpretation doesn't feel like Eddie to me anymore
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I still wish to this day that they had killed Laenor because not only is Seasmoke bonded to Addam somehow (the writers since season one have had this strange idea that dragons bond to many riders at once and that riders bond to more than one dragon) but he left Joffery and Luke.
He left his weeks old son named after his dead lover.
After he lost his sister and her child, who he publicly grieved for.
After he stated he would do his duty and prepare his children for the throne.
After finally being near his nieces, his dead sister's children, who he'd never really been able to be close with.
After knowing they had lost Ser Harwin.
I hate everyone who contributed to this decision.
Laenor au must commence. We can't live like this.
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Please, dearest parental figure, can we get a snippet of moon and soap after she has decided to come plop in his lap? I love the feral cat metaphor so much.
(Totally don’t have to if you’re not in the mood for it of course)
Yeah let's do some Soap POV cuz I love writing for the boys.
The living room is dim save for the flickering light from the television. Soap leans against the arm of the couch to avoid getting caught in the lovey dovey vibes emanating from the other side of the couch. Ghost takes up enough space on his own without Goose cuddled up next to him. If he cranes his neck he can see you popping popcorn in the kitchen, you lean against the counter in a way he thinks might be unbecoming of someone pretending to be a nun. It's more interesting than the movie anyway. He watches you with his hand against his cheek, and wonders if you're ever going to get it through your head that he's serious about you.
For fuck's sake there's only so much room a man can leave for Jesus before he starts assuming you don't want anything to do with him. Or, nothing with any feeling to it. It's all good fun sneaking around but at some point a fella has to wonder if you're just in it for that, fun.
You're so pretty. You're so damn pretty. Fearless, stubborn, always thinking you know best and so fucking- God. He must be crazy to love you like this. You certainly aren't as consumed by it all as he is. Prickly little- You take the bag from the microwave and dump it in the previously full bowl, stealing a few pieces for yourself. Soap doesn't bother to hide his staring when you catch his eye, he smiles, and watches your expression soften a little before you can catch it.
You make your way back to the living room and hold the bowl out to Goose, who takes it graciously, never taking her eyes off the movie as she grabs a handful of popcorn. Soap assumes you'll take your seat in the armchair again, cozy yourself up with one of the blankets. Maybe you'll even fall asleep, then he could have a reason to ask you to stay the night.
The wheels are turning in his brain, churning out plans and casual asks, when you sit on his lap. Every muscle in his body tenses, too afraid you'll move to even breathe. Move you do, settling a hand on his knee to find a comfortable spot and driving an anxious affectionate stake even further into his heart. You mumble something and start to stand again, Soap can't let that happen.
It's a gamble pulling you to lean back against his chest, spreading his legs a little wider to give you room as you tense under his hold. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Goose move her legs over Ghost's lap, his hand holding the outside of her thigh to give more room. Damn good friends, Soap thinks to himself. You're another issue, settled in his lap, legs neatly between his, and still as tense as a man waiting to be executed.
"Sorry, I'm not," you mumble, a hand on his thigh, a threat that you might try to get up again, "I'm not good at this sort of thing."
"Couldn't give a rat's ass," Soap tells you, quiet as he can manage. He can't make you relax but he can certainly make you more comfortable. He can settle your head against his shoulder, box you a little closer to the arm of the couch, rest his hand on your knee and rub his thumb against the cotton of your pants until you go boneless against him with a soft sigh. You certainly don't feel bad at this, whatever this is. Cuddling, God you're so- Overthinker, he's adding it to the list. Fearless, stubborn, smart-ass, overthinker.
You press your face a little closer to his neck, grip his shirt between your fingers. Cuddly little thing. Soap turns the kiss your forehead, wraps his arm around your shoulders instead of just letting you rest against it. Just like that, he thinks, isn't that nice? All cuddled up like a proper sweetheart.
Just for him. You don't have to be sweet for anyone else, and he sure as hell isn't going to ask you to be. But maybe once in a while you can be sweet for him.
You pull back and Soap's arms tense around you before he feels you touch his jaw. Gentle fingers that draw his attention down so you can kiss him, soft and slow. Christ if he could marry you on the spot he would. Goose can notarize, Ghost can witness, all he needs is a priest. Where the hell is Gaz when he needs him?
"Comfortable?" He asks when you pull away and tuck your head under his chin.
"No." You don't make a move to leave his lap, but Soap didn't think you would. Getting a proper yes out of you is like pulling teeth. He doesn't mind though. You're cute when you try to lie to him.
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