#squirrel control services
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When squirrels become a nuisance in Mississauga, professional squirrel control is essential. These skilled experts use humane methods to safely remove and relocate these furry pests. Protect your property from their damage and ensure peace of mind by hiring a trusted service of squirrel control in Mississauga to address the issue effectively.
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Thomas Wildlife Control
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We pride ourselves on providing the best service with the most value in the area. We are a no-nonsense company that provides clients, like yourself, with permanent solutions every day. We don’t use temporary band-aids but instead focus on long-term fixes that can last a lifetime. Standard construction practices and tolerances aren’t sufficient to prevent rodents and wildlife from gaining access.
Rat Control
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#squirrel removal service#pest removal services#pest control company#pest control ottawa#groundhog removal services#groundhogs exterminator
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When danger is around, squirrels can hide anywhere, even in your gutter. However, squirrels can damage your gutter and other parts of your house with their sharp teeth. If your house is already infested with squirrels, hire professional cleaning services by Spencer Pest Services. We offer an extensive range of pest control and gutter cleaning, protection, and replacement services. Call 864-835-8792 to book us in SC & NC.
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Finding A Bat Control Services Ontario If You Have Bats In Your Home?
Because in their herbal habitat decline, bats were recognized to roost in homes. The maximum not unusual places you can discover them are the attic and the chimney. In this article you can know more about bat control services Ontario in detail.
Many times, they're simplest to pass via as they migrate. Nevertheless, they're a nuisance because of their cap potential to unfold disorder and parasites and harm the houses shape. Bats also can be quite noisy and convey an unsightly and stinky odor.
So, the pleasant manner to keep away from the risks of bats is to begin with prevention.
Tips and Tricks for Preventing Bats:
● Seal all feasible entryways from sizable gaps and openings to the tiniest fractures withinside the home`s shape.
● Use bat doorways and chimney caps to in addition your efforts to save you bats from invading your house.
● Set up decoys in their fundamental predators, like an owl.
● Suppose you observed a bat infestation. In that case, use the subsequent symptoms and symptoms and signs to assist verify if the noises you're listening to or smells you've found are, in fact, from bats.
The one and simplest manner to put off the bats roosting in your house is to attain an expert crew for bat exclusion. It's an especially easy procedure of the use of netting or tubes to cowl the entryways. This particular technique lets in the bats to fly out of the house unharmed. And they're not able to discover their manner returned in.
How Bat Exclusion Works!
1 | Identifying the Entry Points
The first step to putting off bat exclusion is for a skilled crew to decide in which the bats are getting into and exiting the house. In the daylight, experts will search for gaps and cracks withinside the shape with proof of bat hobby, like stains and guano.
Then, withinside the early nighttime, they`ll have a look at the feasible entryways, ready to peer bats flying inside and outside of the gaps. Once the primary access factors were identified, they could flow directly to putting in the bat exclusion nets or tubes.
2 | Setting Up the Exclusionary Devices
Over the bat`s access factors, the expert will set up tubes or, more commonly, nets. Using duct tape or stables, the internet is connected to the shape in an unfastened form, permitting lots of area for the bats to drop via and fly out.
The internet is positioned in order that the pinnacle is wider than the hollow on the bottom. This makes it, so the bats will now no longer be capable of flying back via the internet to go back to their nesting place withinside the home.
3 | Wait for The Bat Exclusion Method to Do its Magic
Over approximately 3 to 4 days, the bats roosting in your house need to be totally eliminated with the bat exclusion technique. However, withinside the icy months, whilst bats hibernate, the procedure can also additionally take all season as they wake and go out the house. You can also use it to understand squirrel removal at your home.
4 | Guano Clean Up
The very last step to putting off the risks of bats is to put off their disorder-wearing and damaging droppings. Many protection and fitness risks are concerned in cleansing up bat waste after bat exclusion. For this reason, it isn't a mission you need to tackle independently.
It's a pleasant process left to a skilled crew with the proper gear and protecting gear. Check out Critter guy’s services in Ontario to know more.
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the raven told me of you
eddie x female reader
crafted from this prompt list by: @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing @allthingsjoeq
summary: eddie is released after six months of being behind bars with a false identity, he was never lonely because you were there with him, until you weren’t. now, coming home to a new life with his old name granted back to him. he navigates flashbacks, and trying to settle back in with wayne in private protective seclusion, alone— or is he?
8.1k
tw: 18+ angst. fluff of a new relationship, light smut— s1, s4 canon events with reader inserted into the timeline, mentions of insanity, death, witness protection, government cover-ups etc. this could be a continuation or stand alone fic of your touch but is not necessary to read.
releasing: thursday 3/7
Owens’ worked his charms. The government covered up the mass hysteria and pinned the murders of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred on an accidental chemical reaction from arsenic, radiation and terpenoids. The results left their bones liquified from the toxic lick of acid and torqued before solidifying once again.
The Hawkin’s Post called it ‘a combination of sickly tainted water from the school cafeteria.’
Parents were urged to have their children tested at the local clinic for extra precautions, and thankfully no one else had been affected.
On Thursday the Eighteenth of September, at approximately 1300 hours… an hour into quiet personal time, Mr. Edward Munson, was once again, a free man.
At first he thought it was possibly a mistake, a horrifying joke fed by his many delusions. But when they called him into the warden’s office, he sat across an oak desk from a tall man with a skin bald head, shining like a lightbulb.
He used Eddie’s full name—not the persona he was given— and gave him ten minutes to collect his belongings. It was then he came to realize that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all.
Six long months in the clink with his brain spinning hallucinations beyond his control he wasn’t sure if he’d come out of it without a government issued lobotomy— and in the blink of an eye, it came to an abrupt end.
Prison was cold, unwelcoming in shades of gray coating the ceilings, walls, floors, any service imaginable. As if there was one color sanctioned to the American Prison system and gray was the less costly option.
Concrete was probably more pliable than his bed was. The food was impeccable— if you were a raven on a mealworm diet. It was just shy of hell, and it made the inhabitants calloused to a helping hand or squirreling away from making friends.
Seven months prior, Eddie was in his prime. For the first time in his life he was happy with where he was at, school was almost over and he had a true chance of walking the stage of graduation.
And you, he had you.
Beautiful, charismatic, sweet you.
It was almost like he conjured you up himself with a hard roll against a plyboard table of a twenty sided dice. Mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shimmer in any light, a smile that could soften Medusa’s rocky stare. You were perfect.
The first time his eyes laid on you was across the cafeteria. Everyone moved with the mundane routine, but you were shining like a spotlight had been placed on you overhead.
Your soft skin beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Smooth as silk, and he started to wonder what would your flesh feel like in his hands…would you cower away from their roughness?
His mind raced, and his heart pumped firmly whenever you walked past him, you smelled like ripe fruit, warming by the sun, and Eddie began to understand why Eve was tempted so easily.
And so began the daily task of seeking you out. He was able to spot you like Waldo amongst the boring gray faces of every other girl.
You shone like a gem, a sapphire filled with the darkest of depths, and like an enthusiast to your craft, he wanted to know the breadth of your soul.
His gem.
It was by total chance that he stumbled upon you after months of stray glances. He was walking backwards, yelling to Gareth about being on time for Hellfire that night, when he bumped into something that yelped in surprise.
It was you.
Sprawled and landing hard on your butt. Papers scattered from the collision of your face mashing into a denim patchwork vest.
He stumbled over your feet, falling beside you in a mess of curls and cigarettes, the one between his lips still intact. Your eyes met his for the first time, and that’s all it took for him to fall head over feet, in this case Reeboks, Eddie was a goner.
Your smile spread a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. And your laugh? Made his knees physically weak.
He still didn’t know how he managed to swing it, but he charmed you into agreeing to a ride home. Conversation came easy with you. You were sweet yet comical, a bit of a smart ass. He was grinning like an idiot.
Chatting about books, then music, he bantered back and forth, teasing on your choice of horror, astounded in your tastes— but nevermore, he was enthused, enamored.
Witty and shit giving, you had him wrapped around your finger before the van pulled in front of your place. A permanent dimple pecked into his cheek that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard he tried.
A ten digit number exchanged on lined paper was the start of the end. A corny fist pump and a pep talk on his jaunt back to the trailer park.
Eddie was living on cloud nine.
He called you that night, foregoing any dumb advice he had seen in movies or heard at school at waiting a certain amount of days or hours, he went on pure instinct alone, and almost threw up all over himself after punching the last number.
You answered with your name after saying a proper greeting and he stumbled over his own tongue before choking out that it was him.
“Sorry who?�� you had teased, Eddie’s heart fell into his stomach with relief when you giggled on the other end, “are you calling to sell me some boy scout popcorn, because cheddar is my favorite… but for you I might just buy a tin of caramel.”
A heart laugh erupted from his trailer, loud and barking. “Boy Scouts weren’t really my thing, princess.”
“Ah,” you reasoned, “knots too hard?”
He laughed again, that damn dimple achingly prominent as he smiled through the receiver, and you swore you could hear his cheeks squeak, “something like that.”
An hour had passed and Eddie found himself in the snares of coiled phone cords as he wore a pattern from his bedroom to the kitchen, fiddling with things left on the counter. Even going so far as to start a load of laundry and empty the sink.
You too were in the trenches, living solely on the scraps of information of Eddie’s life that he tossed to you like a pigeon in a park.
He was smart, filled with colossal amounts of knowledge on anything from cars, to reading sheet music. He had an ear for rhythm, cocky enough to have you hum a tune so he could pick up on it, and add to it. Eddie was a closeted genius under the untamed curls.
“Shit— I’m talking too much, huh? " he asked after a long winded speech about a campaign he was planning for the freshman in Hellfire. “I get carried away sometimes,” he admitted with a chuckle, a ripple of embarrassment heating over his body in a wave.
“Not at all,” you eagerly replied, “tell me more about Kas!”
“Well princess, I could show you, if you wanted?” He prayed you’d say yes, to whom or what he was praying to— hewasn’t sure, just crossed fingers and pinched his eyes shut in hopes that you wouldn’t think he was some loser yanking his dick to figurines and elf lore.
But you didn’t, you had said yes faster than he finished asking. And from there— it was history.
He went to bed with a spinning head and a heart wrapped in lace, sugar coated with your sweet voice in his ear, the same lopsided grin he had worn since tripping over you at school.
—
Stepping out into the first breath of freedom, the sun felt heavy on his skin. It itched his arm hairs, the heat touching his neck for the first time in years since he grew out his hair. The brightness stung his eyes.
He had become accustomed to the hollowing sag of fluorescent lights paling his skin to almost translucency, a true dracula in the pits of a four walled hell.
A croaked caw is loud overhead, singular— followed by a fluttering of wings, and the bend of a tree limb.
The clothes he wore didn’t feel like him, the ripped cotton Hellfire shirt wasn’t clean coming in and wasn’t clean coming out, Shredded where the demobats feasted on him like a hotdog at a ball field.
His jeans stunk of decay and murky water from the gate. Caked with mud, dried several times in the days of being on the run, the jeans chafed his skin raw, gnawing on his leg hairs until they popped free, giving up the fight.
A manila envelope held his rings, clashing together in a melodic tone. He slotted them one by one on the correct fingers, yet they felt loose, heavy and familiar all at once.
He was ready to pitch the envelope into a trash bin when he felt something else in the bottom, having to rip it apart to get to whatever was inside. When the ground was littered next to his waterlogged Reeboks, and his palm held the small silver item, his eyes brimmed with tears.
—3
The nightly phone calls soon turned to walks around the trailer park, Eddie listening intently as you strolled around the driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt or catching the occasional rock with the toe of your sneaker.
He matched your steps, learning about your passions after graduation, how you favored sweets over salty treats, and the embarrassing truth of how after your friend Barb went missing, you didn’t have any friends at school.
“Well, now you have me,” he chirped earnestly, dark eyes squinting in the setting sun as he knocked his elbow with yours, a smirk on his lips, “I’ll take care of ya.”
It was as simple as that, and the easiness of it made your nose tingle with a burn as you fought back tears at his kindness.
Weeks of walking with you after school round and round Forest Hills— the scenery started to change.
The emerald grass faded into sharp tawny weeds. Foliage turned the color of autumn and the air began to crisp and chill.
It was then, on a windy Tuesday afternoon, that Eddie invited you into his home, he made sure to kick dirty laundry under his bed, hide the Playboys in the closet behind an old pair of shoes and empty the heaping ashtrays the night beforehand.
A jewel in a shit shack— you equally looked out of place and fit in with the cluttered belongings of his uncles at the same time.
“My castle.” he announced, bending low and holding the door open like a gentleman.
He showed you around the small square footage, taking less than fifteen seconds to point everything out.
“And that?”
“That’s.. my room.”
It was silly then, how nervous he was to let you into his space, even though during your walks you acquired everything there was to know about him.
—
Snow was on the ground when your after school routine of going to Eddie’s was as second nature to you as breathing.
You were sitting on his unmade bed atop the rumpled comforter and soft sheets, socked toes dangling from the side of the mattress. A textbook balanced in your lap, pencil between your teeth. Your eyebrows pinched in a studied strain as you tried to solve a calculus formula.
His voice had startled you, not sure when he had gotten up or how long he was standing at his desk, looking almost sick.
“Got something.. for you.. something dumb that I saw.”
He tried his damndest to be cavalier. But Eddie was everything but.
Ten dollars in quarters, more hours than he had spent in a pizza joint ever, and a hoard of tiny plastic containers from a machine holding costume jewelry, he had finally gotten what caught his eye.
A silver ring adorning a bat with an indigo colored stone in the center. It didn’t come close to the actual beauty you possessed but the blue stone reminded him of the way you moved through the crowd that day, like a rare gem.
Tired eyes focused on him, a nervous little twitch in his body didn’t go unnoticed as he fumbled with something behind his back, a wanton smile smirked on his lips.
You smile, adjusting the book from your lap and rubbing the pressure from your eyes, “a gift? Ed, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Didn’t have too,” he charmed, moving closer into your space, his jeans tickling the tips of your toes, “but… I wanted to.”
“Should I close my eyes?”
He chuckled, “sure sweetheart, hold out your hand,”
Your eyes shut tight, eyelashes squishing against your cheeks as you giggled, “why am I nervous?”
He stared at the rubber eraser shavings that clung to your bottom lip. The graphite on your fingers, a small hole in your jeans atop your knee, showing a smooth expanse of skin that he itched to touch. You had captivated him since the day you crossed his lazy stare in the lunchroom, and he thought of very little else.
He could still hear your squeals when you opened your eyes and saw the delicate ring in your palm. Still feel the way his heart raced when you jumped up and hugged his middle, squeezing him tight against you, the smell of your hair filling his nose with notes of strawberry, or was it peach?
He didn't realize he had the ring fisted in a vice grip until he felt blood in his palm, salty tears collecting in the thickness of his mustache, his lip quivering.
They’re wiped away in haste at the sound of a police cruiser. The familiar scent of thick gasoline exhaust and a camel cigarette follow with the squeak of his driver's door and release of weight on the suspension.
A towering frame crowds the sun from Eddie’s brow. A thick mustache sits square on an egg shaped skull, sunken cheeks replace a once plump face. But the drawl and cigarette smoke are welcoming just the same.
“Hey kid.”
—
Eddie was nervous.
The time you two had been spending together was making him feel giddy. You hadn’t kissed or so much as held hands yet but the air between you both had become filled with dense clouds of lust induced tension— it was hard for him to see straight.
He didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you only saw him as a friend, but tonight was the night the boundaries would cross, and he stood armed like a Paladin, ready to conquer his toughest quest yet, you.
Ice had built up on the broken concrete steps to Eddie’s trailer and your slick bottomed converse hit the glassy surface just right for you to slip backwards, falling into strong leather coated arms.
“We gotta stop falling into each other princess,” he chuckled, holding you tight with hands wrapped around your waist, “gettin’ too old for this nonsense.”
His scent invades you, encompassing you with hints of camels, a stick of big red gum, and starch powdered deodorant.
Your laugh bubbles out of your throat like a giggly champagne, “damn, you got me, totally do this on purpose, insurance claims. All the rage nowadays.”
He buffers for a bit as you tip forward on your feet and spin to face him, one step higher than he stands. “Only kidding,” you tease, grabbing his chin with icy fingers.
His doe eyes stare into yours, lost in the way you made his heart skip and his bones feel like jello, blood ablaze. He’s searching, searching your face for a giveaway— a sign.
And it happens like clockwork.
Your hands rest on either of his cheeks, thumb sweeping softly over the creamy silk of his skin, an audible sigh slides from his throat, followed by a giggle slipping from yours before your voice narrows to a whisper, “lighten up Munson.”
The salmon tone of his lips have gone more cherry colored in the cold, a little chapped from the frigid temps. Not the usually pinkish orangey hue they drew in warm light when he flustered over History notes and Chemistry study cards.
The apples of his cheeks were rosy like a cherub on a Valentine’s Day card, glittered with fancy text swirling of “Be Mine?”
Coal eyes shone with the bright overhead light from the trailer park. A deer caught in headlights.
Eddie was handsome in a way nobody in Hawkins was. A mane of curled brown locks, eyes to match. He was affectionate, easygoing, and you loved him the minute he crashed into you a few months ago.
Hands still on your waist he pulled you towards him, “Can’t,” he breathes, almost silently, a huff of air between you now, “not when I’m around you, never around you.”
Your fingers tangle together around his shoulders, braided in the hair at the nape of his neck, he shudders at the temperature change on his skin.
A quirk in your brow you tilt your head and wet your lips, “why’s that?”
He joins you on the crowded step, taller than you, peering into your face, heavy hands still on the waist, “for months, haven’t been able to think straight when you’re here,” his hands rub on your lower back making lazy circles under your coat with his blunt nails.
“Hmm..” you tease, twirling a curled lock of of the hair framing his face between your fingers, sultry eyes looking up at him in thick eyelashed innocence, “wonder why that is?”
The opening he was looking for, boundary lines down in overgrown grass as if he rolled a crit hit to whatever creature stood in his path was laid out for him.
His forehead comes to rest on yours, surprisingly warm in the cold, his nose like frost as it slid beside your own, bumping and sharing one breath.
“ ‘cause I’m crazy ‘bout you,” he finally admits, heart loosening, unrestricting, “and I can’t stop thinking what your lips would feel like with mine.”
He feels your smile on his mouth, the bated breath you’re holding teasing his tongue, “find out,” is all you can get mutter before his lips press gently to yours.
—
Hawkins was a few hours drive, longer yet after stopping at the nearest diner for a burger and fries. After staring at a menu for more than Hopper’s liking he ordered for himself and Eddie.
The coffee came in white ceramic mugs, the waitress setting them down in the designated spots that were already stained with rings of taupe, years of wear.
“Wayne’s all set up in a new trailer, living high off the hog or whatever he said during our weekly check-ins.”
Eddie ate in silence, chewing slowly, eating but not really tasting. What was freedom if you weren’t a part of it?
He’d be the first to admit that he talked to you when he was stressed. When he thought he couldn’t shut his eyes without seeing the horrific beings that crawled upside down from our world, he turned to your voice, feeling you wrap around him gave him a sense of hope.
“It’s not in Forest Hills, somewhere a little more private, government owned land.”
Eddie sipped at the bitter coffee, taking the burn in a big swig, letting it hurt. Nodding along as he watched his reflection in the dark cup.
—
Kissing you was like being able to breathe underwater, like the 1986 New Year’s fireworks over Lover’s Lake.
He kissed you at your door before school when he showed up every morning to drive you. He stole more kisses in his van, cursing the 8:15 bell, his hands on your waist pulling you further into him.
Standing by your locker, he kissed your cheeks as you dug for textbooks. He pressed his lips to your ear in the lunch line, making you squirm.
He kissed your shoulder when he sat behind you teaching you to play his guitar. Pressing the delicate pads of your fingers into the strings to play each chord with ease.
He’d groan into your neck, while pressing you into the couch, nipping your skin until his lips were raw.
“Where have you been my whole life?”
Your fingers are entwined in his hair, pulling his weight further into you, your legs wrap around his waist, “led astray, lost, so lost.”
He leans up, dark curtains of hair dangling into your face from your position on the saggy couch in the Munson living room.
He smiles a toothy grin, dimples breaching, “good thing I found you then, baby,” he sweeps a rogue eyelash from your cheek, “can’t escape me now.”
“wouldn’t want to even if I were dead.”
—
“Nope, hasn’t said a word, how do you know he can even talk?”
Owen’s sighs on the other end of the receiver, “he’s tough, but he’s been through a lot, needs time to recover, find out who he is again.”
Hopper takes a long drag of a cigarette, “yeah, don’t know about that one doc, he’s mute.”
Short trimmed nails scratch at a tuft of curly white hair, stationed somewhere in Nevada, “Alright, just get him home, I’ll call the uncle and let him know.”
—
Hugs lingered. Kisses deepened. Bodies pressed to one another in a staticky velcro of magnets, unable to peel apart.
Things were hot and heavy between you and Eddie. Smoky, tingly, a fog that had your blood pulsing places you didn’t know was even possible. You didn’t want to be apart, aching to explore every inch of him.
And he felt the same.
Together you set the plans into place.
He purchased the condoms, made sure his favorite mix of the slowest metal music he could find was ready to go. He washed his bed sheets and lit a dust covered candle.
You had done your own routine, showering and thoroughly scrubbing every surface of your skin, lathering a thick lotion on your body, and planting perfume in the direct places Cosmo described as, ‘irresistible’.
It wasn’t his first time. But it was yours.
Running his fingers through his bangs once more he took a last meticulous look around his room, crossing the trailer to answer the front door, where you had knocked quietly.
You were gorgeous, standing in a pair of light wash jeans and a buttoned red sherpa coat. A bag over your shoulder.
“There’s my girl,” he cooed, holding his arms wide and embracing you in his signature bone crushing hug. His lips found yours in a fevered second and he walked you backwards inside, flipping the deadbolt as he kicked the door behind him.
The duffle bag travels from your shoulder to his arm and he breaks away from your tempting lips. Holding your shoulder he pulls you into him, looking at you as he leads you to his room.
“Got everything you need? Toothbrush?”
You smile a little nervously, “check.”
“Okay, pajamas?” he inquires, “could wear mine if you wanted, you’d look pretty damn cute in my Garfield pants.”
“Packed and folded last night,” you say, tickling
his sides, “you were on the phone with me when I did it.”
He stops before crossing the threshold to his room, hands gently pressed to your cheeks, looking into your eyes in a serious manner.
“Are you sure? Like really sure?” his brows knit into concern, “I want you to be comfortable with this.. with me.”
You tug his shirt with a pinched grip, at his waist, staring back into his eyes, the truth on your tongue.
“I want you.”
—
Gravel spits up from the rubber tires as Hopper’s cruiser pulls off onto the secluded road. Eddie’s head hits the window hard with a thud, waking him from a dream.
“Home sweet home, kid.” Hop grunts, cranking the vehicle to a stop after traveling down a long twisting driveway thick with bordering trees and miles of woods on either side. A safe haven for a man deemed dead.
He could make out the taillights of his van, nestled in the tall grass beneath a willow tree, obscured from view. Wayne’s trusty Ford under the carport.
The overcast sky splayed a gray color against the new Munson home, and sitting on steps that weren’t broken, was Wayne.
The passenger door releases with a groan, and he inhales the fresh scent of dirt and summer grass. Finally, he feels like he can breathe.
Wayne’s familiar thin lipped grin is spread wide on his face, smoke lingering from a cigarette in an ashtray. His wet eyes gleam at the boy he once thought was dead, as he stands to greet his nephew.
“Hardly recognized ya with that short hair, Ed, and that beard?” he says rubbing a weathered hand through his own scruff, “givin’ me a run for my money son.”
He hadn’t seen his uncle since that friday morning in March. Unbeknownst to them both, in 15 short hours a cheerleader would die gruesomely in their living room, sprouting a world of chaos and demons, destruction, uncertainty and more carnage.
Hop had explained to Eddie that Wayne was compensated generously for his grief by the United States Government. He was told the ins and outs of what had happened and where Eddie was, and perched on land in a new house, he was told to wait.
—
Spring had sprung, the hard winter that seemed like it would never end was finally seeing its demise. March brought promises of new growth in the soil, and warmer days ahead.
It was a typical Friday, besides a morning pep rally for the laundry basket team after winning an important game the night before.
A pep rally you never attended.
Your back was pressed against the bathroom stall, skirt rucked up with the help of Eddie’s hand.
“We’re… gonna… get caught.” You rasped out between kisses.
His other hand was interlaced with yours high above your head, “probably,” he teased, tongue licking into your mouth, “it’s worth it though? Yeah?”
His hand travels further to the cotton waist of your panties, dragging them further and further down your thigh, his lips assaulting your neck, vibrating with your delicate moans.
“For you?” you question, hooking an arm around his shoulder, as your panties hit the ground, “always.”
He smiles into your lips as he pushes into your warm center, taking the breath from your lungs as you adjust to him, ass cheeks cold on the metal siding of the stall.
Your legs are wrapped into the crease where his elbow meets, his cock dragging in and out languidly, mouths hung open and tasting each other's ecstasy as your eyes drink one another up.
“Swear I’ve never, ever had someone like you, baby,” he gasped, bangs frizzing from being wet from a morning shower then covered in sweat.
Hips pistoning into you, he can feel your walls clench and tighten, your breath choked before you release, saying his name as if it’s the only word you can make out.
He cums hard. biting his lip and burying his face into your neck, “I love you, fuck I love you.”
It was the first time he had said it. He had known it for months, but today in the girls bathroom skipping a pep rally he could give a shit about, he figured it was the perfect place to say how he felt.
He’s still inside you when you say it back, spend leaking from you and onto the tiled floor. Your own eyes wet with the happiest of tears because no one has ever said that to you, not like this.
But this gorgeous man, in all his reputational flaws that didn’t mean shit, loved you. And you had never felt more emotion flooding through you all at once.
“I love you too, Eddie.”
—
Hopper didn’t stay for supper, patting his barely there belly and saying the missus was expecting him home tonight. He tipped a felt hat goodbye to Wayne and to Eddie, telling them to call if they needed anything.
He still hadn’t spoken, only nodded and waved curtly as the red tail lights danced down the tangled web of a driveway.
“Gonna make pork chops if you’re interested,” Wayne chirped, holding the door open for him as they climbed the same number of steps, “learned how to cook, can y’ believe that?”
He smiled softly, carrying his envelope of release papers and setting them on the table.
Everything from the old trailer was ruined. His guitar, all the band equipment he had stored in his room, the mattress that held more memories with you in them that he’d never get back— all gone, burned to a rancid fiery crisp when the fourth chime rang and Hawkins spread open like a festering wound.
The only thing he had of yours was the small bat ring with a sapphire stone.
Ten dollars in quarters at a shitty pizza place. He should have given you something real.
—
“.. yeah yeah and I was full of shit then,” Eddie grinned as Jeff and Gareth teased him about his graduation timeline. “This is my year, I can feel it.. ‘86 baby!”
He was always a flare for dramatics, dungeon master or not he amped it up for the freshman, acting like DnD was life or death, as if the cult of Vecna couldn’t be missed.
To be fair, he spent months on this campaign, late nights plotting and scrawling into a binder as you sat behind him, playing with his hair.
French braids then pippy styled pigtails, a cute bun on the top of his head with little hairs sweeping against his forehead and at the nape of his neck, perfect curls.
“Ten bucks says Wheeler cries when Vecna makes his return.”
“You think?”
“Definitely.”
Shoving Dustin and Mike with specific instructions to find a replacement player for Lucas, he sits down to his measly little lunch, leaning over to your space and whispering so only you can hear.
“After Hellfire tonight you wanna come over? Wayne bought a frozen pizza and I heard that Family Video finally got some good horror flicks in.”
Stealing a pretzel from his fingers you nod your head yes, “ I’ll get the movie, meet you at the trailer?”
The rest of the day dragged on. One boring class after another, students excited for the upcoming game, teachers unable to keep the roar of amped up Jocks under control, but alas the last bell finally rang. Releasing Hawkins High for Spring Break of ‘86.
Some kids went on vacation, others hunkered down with their friends. And some never made it back to school when classes resumed.
Walking down to his designated selling spot at the forgotten picnic table in the woods, he could have never imagined the trouble he’d be in just seven hours later.
—
Pork Chops seared in a pan with some butter and a chopped onion, Wayne had the news playing on the small tv in the kitchen, listening for the weather report.
The trailer was identical to the one lost to the rotting flesh of the Upside Down. Newer, and a damn sight cleaner, but the layout was exactly the same, except for an added bedroom with an attached bath on the opposite wall of the living room.
The filthy hat collection was replaced by odd cowboy decor and small wolf figurines. Eddie paced around the living room, touching the knick knacks that someone else had picked out not even questioning whether or not Wayne enjoyed this kind of stuff.
He had shown Eddie to his room, a navy blue carpet stretched across the floor, a queen sized bed against the back wall. New new new. Everything was foreign to him.
He would miss the heavy creak of a dresser drawer that didn’t shut properly, his closet door that fell off its track years before. Hell, he’d even miss the itch of the green wool blanket he kept on his bed in the winter months.
“Got your own bathroom too,” Wayne said cheerfully hovering in the doorway, hand rubbing the knob as he stared at the floor, “figured you’d wanna shower ‘fore supper, so I laid a towel out.”
Eddie turned his head nodding while he poked at the too soft blanket folded on his bed.
“It’s good to have you home, Eddie.” Wayne said, finally looking into his nephew’s eyes, “didn’t feel the same without you.”
Wayne wasn’t a coddler, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like he couldn’t be trusted, so he turned to leave, “shower’s got real good water pressure.” He takes a glance back at Eddie, and looks around the room before pulling the door shut behind him.
“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, turning away at the last second, avoiding the piercing color of Wayne’s eyes before they could break him down.
—
Ten o’ clock on the dot your car crunched onto the dusty driveway of Forest Hills. Eddie’s van wasn’t parked out front yet, but thankfully the Munson trailer was never kept locked.
The trailer smelled of old smoke and musk from two hard working men. Even if the laundry was never caught up, and greasy wrappers from a quick bite of a burger littered the counter— Eddie’s home was comforting to you.
You didn’t have to fumble around for the light switches anymore, walking in the dark you knew where the table could connect with your hip if you weren’t careful.
Ten steps from the kitchen, down the hall was his bedroom door, five steps back led to the bathroom. He had cleared a drawer for you to keep your clothes in, socks, extra pajamas, some of his favorite pairs of your underwear lived in the top drawer on the right.
The mirror on his dresser held a collection of pictures of the two of you from the photo booth at Starcourt Mall, movie ticket stubs, and the mint condition guitar he kept sacred.
A yawn escapes your tired mouth the warmth of a shower calls to you.
Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, the water sputters under the shower head as it always did, and familiar music floods your ears from the thin walls outside.
—
His reflection is gaunt, different than the last time he looked at himself, the night he struck the mirror in disgust.
He’s too happy to rid himself of the swamp smelling clothes that itched and scraped his skin. The lick of a flame would do them justice, good riddance to the worst time of his life.
The shower is bigger, the head double the size of the one he grew used to. The spray of scalding water hits his head like magma. Burning his flesh, washing away months of isolation, stale air, and stiff clothing.
The water released muscles in his back that had grown crimped from the thin cot he curled himself on. His fingers ran through the shorter length of hair on his head, just above his eyebrows realizing it now was long enough to drip water into his eyes.
He didn’t check the labels before rubbing whatever soap or shampoo it was into his skin, but the slide of it onto his pale and gummy mauled scars felt like butter on toast.
Registering the faint scent of a stixky sweet fruit he couldn’t determine if it was strawberry or peach, but the concoction had him clutching his chest, unable to breathe.
It smelled like you.
You. His best friend.
You. His first girlfriend.
You. The only person he has ever loved— so intensely, it killed him.
You you you.
His gem. All sapphire blues with depths beyond comparison to anyone else who simply peaked on the surface.
Gone.
“Ready whenever you are!” Wayne knocked on the door, “pork chop ain’t no good cold.”
He wipes the tears from his eyes. Regulates his breathing with labored intakes. And finally admits the thing he couldn’t for the past six months.
“She’s gone.”
—
“Sorry for the mess, maid took the week off.”
“You live here alone?”
Murmured voices are muffled under the rush of water from the shower, “Eddie?..that you?”
Shuffled steps get closer and the bathroom door swings open, Eddie’s eyes are wide, wild with excitement as they roam over your form.
He licks his lips, stalking towards you in a lazy manner with dark hooded eyes, “prettiest girl in the whole world in my bathroom?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, a breathtaking move leaving you giggly as his hand caresses your cheek, “hope you’re naked under these clothes.”
He presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, dipping you low and swinging you back up, he tastes like Mountain Dew and lingering hints of nicotine, spread with a wicked grin.
“I missed you, handsome,” you say, pressing your lips to his again, “so how was it? Did Mike cry when Vecna came back?”
Eddie barks out a laugh, rubbing his hands together, “think I might’ve seen a single tear fall, but they defeated him— crit hit by Sinclair’s sister.”
“Really? That’s.. impressive!”
“It was… shit, I’ve never been more proud of those little assholes.” His smile fades and you know he’ll miss being DM for them next year.
“Eddie?” A small voice asks from the living room.
Your brow quirks in question and he looks at you voice whispering low, “Chrissy Cunningham wants to buy ketamine.”
“What?!” you whisper back face struck in shock, “seriously?!”
Eddie nods, eyes wide in almost disbelief himself, “wanted a half ounce at first, but then said she needed something stronger.”
Your face pulls concern, honestly astonished that someone who seemed so prim and proper would want something like that. Eddie didn’t sell k normally you’ve been with him on multiple occasions and the only thing that was consistent with your peers of Hawkins High was weed.
“Do you even have it?”
“Dunno” he shrugs, lips in a frown, “told her I did because it’s an easy thirty bucks, but I could just crush up some tic-tacs… she wouldn’t know the difference.”
“Eddie? Did you find it?” Chrissy calls out in a nervous pitch.
“I can talk to her while you find something?”
“That’d be great,” he kissed you once more, lips buzzing, “two minutes!” He practically skips to his bedroom and shoots you a wink. Leaving you in a flight of butterflies lining your stomach. Helplessly in love.
—
Inhaling the hot cooked meal that didn’t taste like warmed up roadkill, Eddie sat in silence in a clean pair of clothes that weren’t his, listening to Wayne talk about what he’d been up to since they had last seen each other.
He burned with questions, needing, wanting, aching to know but the only thing he could blurt out came choked and almost suffocating on the use of his vocal cords.
“I need to see her.”
Wayne simply slurped his iced tea, setting the glass down heavy on the oak table, ice shifting. “Figured you would… want me to drive ya?”
Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head, “I need to go alone.”
With instructions from Wayne on the less traveled roads back to town, Eddie’s van sputtered to life in a cloud of backfiring smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the passenger seat, he knew what would be there, and what wouldn’t.
Nothing was the same. Not anymore.
—
The boat floor was cramped, quite literally packed like sardines in a can, you were somehow lulled to sleep by the sway of Lover’s Lake waters and the even breathing of Eddie’s chest.
Your head tucked beneath his chin, he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could without crushing your bones.
Rick’s offered little comfort for an empty stomach outside of a moldy fruit bowl, an expired beer and a singular can of spaghetti o’s. But you were both safe for now. And that’s what mattered.
The kids, Steve Harrington— of all people— and Robin promised food and any information they could find without seeming suspicious. He was gracious for their companionship, needing something to keep him busy while trying to hide his own slip to insanity from you.
Your tears were endless, soft and steady one minute and the next you were wrecked, in a choked fit clinging to him for dear life.
Eddie’s mind played on replay of your trembling screams when Chrissy’s bones snapped like twigs and her eyes vacuumed out of her skull. Vecna, a made up character that he had been obsessing over for the past couple months for DnD was real.
Killing teenagers for what? World domination? Eddie and yourself were the ones on the run, knowing all too well how a dead cheerleader in his trailer would look to any cop with half a brain.
He’d run forever if it meant not losing you and killing Vecna for good. Everything he had ever known, books of fantasy and creatures that he drew for campaigns, it was all real, and these kids have been fighting it for years now.
The sound of tires crunching on the driveway had his ears perked like a guard dog, followed by three slamming doors. Instructions were given, and he could only imagine that whoever it was was in Rick’s house and it was only a matter of time before they noticed the boat house just like Mayfield had.
The walkie talkie Dustin left was clutched in his hand, you were both fucked, and needed help— now.
—
The Roane Hill Cemetery was eerily foggy, dew coated the hot blades of grass from the sweltered heat. Wayne drew a map on what section you were in. Apparently the number of people lost in the “earthquake” were in the upper digits now, and they were running out of land to bury the deceased.
Those not recovered were given markers slotted into the ground with accompanied by silk ribbons to symbolize hope. They were nestled up under a thick tree line, complete with a wrought iron fence.
He bubbled out a laugh when he crossed by his own empty grave. The headstone was covered in graffiti of wishes to burn in hell. Typical. His death date marked as ‘March 27 1986’. But that wasn’t true.
Lots of people passed that day when hell itself opened a crimson quaking flood. but not him. Although he wished he had.
Pushing forward, he knew had to be close now. The air was thick in the foggy whiteness— blinding him. A high pitched croak screeched from the sky, and he stumbled backward, landing on his ass with a wet thud, a spattering of grass grown wild in tender dirt.
His chest cavity sunk in, gasping for breath but coming up empty. Each threatened choke chipped away at him as his fists tore at the soft ground.
His girl. His gem. Laid to rest.
—
The Winnebago rocked on uneven suspension as Steve winded down the Indiana highway back to Hawkins. It was eerily quiet. Even Robin was silent, planning her mission in her head? You couldn’t be sure.
Tightening the bandana around Eddie’s curls you ask him if it feels okay.
“Yeah, course.”
Days of running. Hours of growling stomachs, unable to keep down food— you prayed this plan of Nancy’s would work, that Max would be able to lure Vecna with her vulnerable mind, that Eddie could distract the bats long enough to have the others attack his paralysis ridden body—it had to work— right?
Eddie sits and pulls you onto his lap, adjusting the spear made by the same eleven year old girl who defeated his campaign a few nights before. Erica, you learned, was a warrior.
“Nervous?” you asked throwing an arm around his neck and whispering into his ear.
He shrugged nonchalantly, “little worried.”
You believed in the plan, in the younger kids, in Steve Nancy and Robin who had been fighting stuff like this from a different dimension for years. They were trustworthy and intelligent.
“It’s gonna work babe,” you encouraged, stroking his cheek, “we’ll clear your name, graduate, and then leave this hell hole, together.”
He looks at you with strained eyes, wetter than usual, “you and me?”
Staring back at him you press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, “forever.”
—
He laid there until the sky turned to ink. Speaking to you in his head, knowing in his deepest of hearts that you could hear him. Telling you how he had missed you, how your beautiful smile played like a film in his brain. How he loved you. and hours have told you sooner, more, every day.
He told you how he wished he was gone too. Would you like that? It could be so easy to do.
Tracing his fingers over the formal font of your engraved name. He smirked at the silly spelling of your middle name.
It was comforting.
Eddie hadn’t felt this sense of calm since the day you hadn’t come back to him in the mirror, and he thought whatever magic spell was broken until you reached for him one last time, promising to never leave.
But you did, and he was alone.
Standing upright, he let out a sleepy yawn, “can I come by tomorrow?” he asked, “would you be okay with that?” He smiled, and bent at the knee to press his lips into the stone above your name.
“Oh,” he remembered, fishing your ring from the breast pocket of his borrowed flannel shirt, “look what I found.”
He held it to your stone, “this belongs to you, baby, I want you to have it.”
Placing the small ring on the smooth base of your tombstone, he gets back up, knees clicking like he’s years older than he actually was.
“See you tomorrow, my sweet gem.”
—
The night air shifted on his drive home, blowing a chilling breeze from the north that whipped his hair around his ears. The van struggled on the drive home with each gust that blew against the metal frame.
“Think we’re in for a storm tonight.” Wayne said when Eddie breached the front steps, straightening his arm, “ol elbow’s actin’ up.”
“Kinda cold for September, right?”
“All of a sudden it dropped about thirty degrees, somethin’s a brewin’.”
Wayne had his truck keys wrapped around a finger, “I gotta go check on Miss Pam, her husband died in the uhh.. anyway, she’s not doing well and you remember how those damn lights always went out? I’ll be back after while.”
Eddie grew a smile, “should I wait up?”
Wayne stopped in his tracks, talking around a smirk hiding a laugh, “don’t get smart with me.”
They both share a glance and laugh softly, and Eddie still has a smile even after the rumble of Wayne’s pickup gets carried away in the wind.
He locked up, pulling the vinyl shades and unhooking the curtains, pitching the trailer into darkness right as the rain pelted the window panes.
Wayne must have made his bed when he was in the cemetery. A small radio was perched on a nightstand and after slipping into starched pajama pants, from the fancy dresser, Eddie fiddled with the knob until the faint guitar sounds filled the room.
Thunder grumbled in the distance, but what he heard next was repetitive, growing louder. Shit, maybe Wayne didn’t have a house key.
“Ya know,” he says, walking to through the kitchen to the front door, “you tel me not to wait up but then you bang on the door because you don’t have keys? C’mon!”
The door swings open with a final gust of wind. Mud sloshed on his feet, Rain splattered his face. But that was not a concern.
A beautiful face, covered in Earth. Eyes he hadn’t seen outside of a mirror in months. You wore the same thing he last saw you in, same tattered wear that his Hellfire shirt had, but it somehow looked soft.
“I promised you forever.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#ziggy writes#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst
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PING Daycare_Attendent_LightMode
ERROR DESTINATION HOST UNREACHABLE
Moon hides in the closet turned staging area/bedroom that he and Sun share, keeping out of the lights and ignoring the calls from their human assistants below. The daycare would be opening in 43.25 minutes and Sun would usually be downstairs, prepping for the early morning rush of kids getting dropped off before parents went off to work.
Sunny is not responding.
Moon has tried everything short of actually stepping out into the light because doing that would mean either talking with the assistants and if Sun didn't come out... He'd be forced to talk to the assistants while looking like Sun, and that seemed even more unpleasant.
A knock startles Moon from his renewed efforts at contacting Sunny; for a split second he wonders if the sound is in his programming and Sun has somehow summoned a door to play games with in their shared code. But no, it's sadly a knock, a very insistent if light sound, coming from the human sized door that they'd half-hidden behind a pile of spare toys and boxes meant for the daycare.
"Sunny? Are you in there? Everything okay?"
The daycare opens in 31.59 minutes.
Moon doesn't want to answer; his voice is a dead giveaway that this is not Sun currently in control. The knocking continues, and he paces, clawing at his faceplate. It's equal part distress and performance. The knocking and constant soft "Sunny?" is gonna drive him up the wall.
"Okay something is wrong. I'm gonna get one of the janitors. They should have a key to get in."
"No!" The boxes rip in his haste, glitter and paper scattering. The door's hinges screech in protest as it opens long enough to jerk the human on the other side into the room and slam shut again. "Do not tell."
"Ow, what, Moon? Where's Sunny?" Moon lets go of their arm like it's on fire. This is one of the newer assistants, someone who still treats the animatronics as human and not an annoyance. Well, he's just screwed that up.
Moon pantomimes shushing, one long finger pressed against his unmoving smile as he squats to be level with the assistant. "Don't speak so loudly," he warns. "Sunny isn't here."
"Isn't... what?" Oh, they are not quiet, not quiet in the least. Moon covers their mouth instead, the if, then rhetoricals playing out fragmenting as an error stiffens his servos until he can dismiss it. He's not hurting the assistant, he's not.
"Sunny isn't here," he repeats, more softly, insistently. "Don't yell. Draws attention." When they nod, his faceplate tilts. "Promise." They nod again, crossing an x over their heart for good measure. Moon pulls his hand back, but it hovers close, anxiety high. If they yell or try to run, he'd have to stop them. How?
"Are you okay?"
A pause, Moon's face untwisting and retwisting counterclockwise. Processing is slow. There's too many variables, and his fans are slow to kick on.
"You're not. C'mon, let's sit. Do you sit?"
They're guiding Moon to a dilapidated couch they'd squirreled away from one of the breakrooms when it was meant to be tossed. Moon sits, staring as they sit next to him, drawn into Moon's space from the weight.
"Okay. Explain what you mean by Sun is gone." There's a red mark on their cheek, a spot they absently rub. Moon's hands click as he flex's his fingers.
"Not found. Dunno where, but no response in here." Moon taps at the back of his head. "We were fine last night. Plugged in to charge for this morning. Woke up and he's gone."
"Oh." Their face scrunches up in thought, fingers moving from their cheek to tug at a lock of hair. "What have you tried so far?"
"Diagnostics. Restarting. Defragmentation. Testing code. More I can feel where he's meant to be. He's not there."
"Should we go to Parts and Services?"
"No." The venom in his voice startles the assistant. They cringe back into the couch. "No techs."
"Why--" They cut themselves off, looking around the dilapidated room and Moon's own unmoving face. They frown, looking down at their hands. "Nevermind. But what do we do? We need Sunny for playtime."
Moon shakes his head. "Dunno. Hasn't happened since we were repurposed. No techs."
"No techs," they reply. "But maybe we can use Parts and Services after the plex is closed? You could walk me through the process."
"Why help?" Moon can't help the suspicion in his voice, especially as the red mark hasn't especially faded. They shrug, looking Moon over and then away.
"I'm trying to think how upsetting it'd be to wake up and not have part of myself there. Dunno how to make to correlate exactly but... yeah. It doesn't seem fun."
"No. Not fun," Moon agrees. The assistant stands in front of Moon, offering their pinky. He stares at it in confusion.
"I promise I'll not tell anyone what's going on if you promise to come with me downstairs after work is over. I'll tell people that you two are having a maintenance day? It should work."
"Should." Moon slowly links pinkies with them, his fingers dwarfing the human's. "Sorry for grabbing."
"Well, now that I know why, there's no hard feelings. You're just really strong!" They let out a laugh, but Moon can't tell if it's genuine. They move towards the door. "I should go now. We open in shit 15 minutes. I gotta let everyone know the cover story."
Moon doesn't know entirely how to reply, so he remains silent. They linger for a moment, clearly wanting a response. With none forthcoming, they continue. "It's gonna be okay Moon. Sunny's just... on vacation. He'll be back."
"Thank you." His voice is small, made even smaller by how empty the room is once the assistant leaves.
----
@biblically-accurate-dca
nooot my best writing but you have me inspired by the idea of Sunny being MIA so I spat this out right quick.
#daycare attendant#fnaf dca#dca au#fnaf daycare attendant#dca#fnaf au#fnaf moon#moon dca#my writing#vacation au
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re: defective Jellycats. This was our (random out of nowhere) shipment of mini fossily trex. Most of them with arms sticking out much further than they used to, lots with wonky heads (really intense variation there - some with their head downturned or tilting to one side or turned slightly) uneven eyes, poor balance on most of them. Most shipments I stock and tag and put out have loose threads I have to snip !dragons in particular), big stuffing variations and hugely different faces. Also not a quality control issue but more poor design: none of the forager plushies (mushroom squirrel and bunny and flower mouse) stand up straight. If you like I'll see if I can find more comparisons just between two of the same plush on our shelves
I know this ask is from a while ago and since then things seem to have improved (at least from what I've seen), but I still appreciate you taking the time to share all of this with me! I'm hoping the quality control gets much better this year! In the meantime, customer service has already improved and instead of placating you with words of how sorry they are, they actually give you a free Jellycat or some other nice thing like a free drawstring bag and stickers!
I'm excited to see how Jellycat will do this year with their promised changes and improvements and how they will handle their ever-rising popularity.
One thing about the Fossily T-Rexes: I've seen so many people describe their clearly faulty Jellycats as "quirky" or saying things like "he's got a wonky head/ doesn't sit up, but I love him anyway". This really upsets me because Jellycat cannot brand themselves as a luxury brand and keep raising their prices if every single thing about their product isn't perfect. I know they are handmade, so individual variations occur and that's lovely and part of the appeal, but there's a difference between individuality and an actual faulty product/design!
All that said, the best thing you can still do is pick your Jellycats out in person! I know that's not possible for a lot of people though, so if your only option is the official website please do reach out to customer support if there is anything "wrong" with your Jellycat! They are trying hard to fix things right now, so speaking up is important.
Also yeah, the Forager Jellycats just don't sit up and it irks me that nobody seems to care about that. It's a simple design flaw that could be fixed by putting more support on the inside. Right now what they are carrying is just too much for the little body to support on its own. I know some people put wire through the "stem" to get it to stay upright. I don't know why this design flaw hasn't been addressed yet. Maybe if people would stop buying them or giving them 5 stars on the website despite this, a new batch would come out with improvements...
Fungi Forager Bunny
Fungi Forager Squirrel
Flower Forager Mouse
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Today's very special and lengthy One Donut a Day is about one of my favorite Hoops and Yoyo shorts
youtube
Its a cute little animation of Yoyo taking a walk around listening to the song Sugar Vendor by Softee.
Love the use of real locations. Piddles house is so cute too. I want to live there so badddughh!!! >w<
It's such an interesting short as its the only one of its kind, It feels branded like it was supposed to be its own recurring series but its not.
So after watching something like this I wondered how hoops and yoyo collaborated with an indie band but finding that kind of information is hard. First of all the band, Softee was an indie Pop band from Kansas City, Missouri had a pretty short run starting in 2009 and going for a few years before becoming inactive.
Excerpt from their youtube channel description,
“Softee is Sarah/bass/lead vox, Mimi/drums/vox, Flora/cello/keys & Steph/guitar/vox. A super fun lo-fi indie pop band from KC, USA, Softee met at work and are designer/illustrators by day and power popsters by night. They LOVE it and have a blast!!! We have 2 EPs & 2 singles available on itunes and amazon!!”
Looking at their page cant give me that much but it's something. Their albums are hard to find let alone catalog how many releases they’ve made. What I can find is 2 Ep’s and sugar vendor on a compilation album FIRST BLOOD which is the only way to listen to Sugar Vendor in good quality. Or like at all. Their youtube page has some of their songs performed live however the band being active in 2009 does not equate to the best quality.
youtube
They’re cool but I wish there were more answers. I'll try to find some contact info for members of the band and how they came in contact with Hallmark. Maybe they had ties due to their design work? If they did the (really nice) art for their albums and banners) they do match the styles Hallmark has for their media in this era. Their art has this cute little baby squirrel? I think thats what it is these icons and posters are nice.
So if I think the obvious thing is to either contact Mike Adir and or Bob Holt but that would seem like a hassle because I'd have a billion questions about Hoops and Yoyo to ask them.
Well now that that section of the post is done with theres some merchandise based off this short, an Ipod case. It has Yoyo on one side with his ipod with some edited headphones instead of wearing the Apple Earbud style earbuds he wears in the Short, and Hoops on the other side just bein silly :p
Heres some things I ripped from the flash file. I wanted to rip Yoyos adorable little head bobbing but this ones really strange compared to other flash files i’ve digged into where I could not find this animation by itself in the file.
So have these of Yoyo and Piddles and the full backgrounds uncropped.
Speaking of the backgrounds I wondered where Yoyo was walking. So for fun I tried to find out what the real world locations of the walk and map the trail so lets see where these locations are now.
Yoyo Takes a walk around 63rd street in the Brookside District in Kansas City Missouri possibly due to the band being from there maybe they frequented the spot. So lets reveal (almost) all the real locations from the short.
Location 1 - BlueBird Cafe
The short begins and ends here and Bluebird Cafe is actually a CVS :( I think has been for a long time.
Location 2 - Coffee Depot
Coffee Depot has an interesting history as it was once a Goodcents sandwich shop to now a Starbucks so it kind of is a Coffee Depot but less cute and more corporate and a big lack of a giant coffee mug on top I don't know if that was there at all or edited in.
Location 3 - pink house :)
My personal favorite location as its such a pretty house. Unfortunately it was repainted in blue by the company that currently occupies it, a pest control service. I have no idea what previous business occupied the house as when i find other images of the house it seems to be up for sale. An odd point on googles street view shows one capture from 2011 when the house was still pink frozen in time. Such a shame a pretty house was repainted :(
Location 4 - restaurant and DOGGONE IT!
Yoyo sits on the bench, reads a paper, and has a little dance break in front of these 2 buildings on a which are 3 stores. The restaurant is now 2 separate stores, a pet salon and a framing shop. Doggone it is a clothing store now.
Location 5 Ye olde donut shoppee
So this is the one I have no ideas about, reverse image search didn’t give me a clue and i took a street view tour around the area but did not find a matching building so this ones odd so please if anyone can find it let me know.
Location 6 - Chillis Delli
The location Yoyo passes but waits to cross the street is actually a restaurant so its not too off.
Bonus thing! - Hallmark location
While researching the street I viewed old videos touring the area and had stumbled upon an old hallmark store there on the street. So I believe this may have something to do with the connection to Hallmark and Softee idk thats just my theory.
This has been a very long and big project post when it wasn't supposed to be, however the questions keeps piling and I enjoyed researching for this one. Next post may not be as long but will still have lots to it.
Hello again and goodbye for a little - Penny <3
#hoops&yoyo#hoops and yoyo#hoopsandyoyo#old internet#old flash#2000s internet#early internet#gay backflips#Youtube
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#groundhog removal services#groundhogs exterminator#pest removal services#pest control company#pest control ottawa#squirrel removal service
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You know what Disney movie would be the perfect Bartimaeus Sequence crossover?
...no not Aladdin fuck off. The movie where "genies" exist but follow very different magical rules would be a terrible crossover. I'm talking about The Emperor's New Groove.
No no hear me out. Emperor Kuzco is a young magician-king, but he's lazy and oblivious. He hardly ever does any serious summoning because all he cares about his throwing parties: he lets his underlings do all the work and trusts most of the important decision-making to his second-in-command Yzma. Yzma is an actually competent magician but is content to be the power behind the throne and let Kuzco be the figurehead / in the line of fire for all the assassination-attempts, but when Kuzco attempts to fire her she decides to take matters into her own hands.
Pacha is a commoner with some degree of Resilience, who shows up to the palace with a list of grievances against the ruling class magicians (of course). Kuzco, by the way, is a bit like King Solomon in that he makes stupid selfish decisions yes but he's also oblivious to the sheer amount of evil shit his magician underlings get up to (like destroying villages and bumping off anyone who complains).
Enter Bartimaeus, who Kuzco has summoned for some pointless and time-consuming task that is not even remotely worthy of his talents. He leaves his master alone for like five minutes, and comes back to find that he has... been transformed into a llama? Which naturally makes him furious that Yzma bothered messing about with magic potions instead of using a more straightforward method of murder, and he vocally complains about it for like half the movie. I want to see Bartimaeus and Kuzco actively fighting over control of the "freeze frame" footnotes, and in general I think the addition of Bartimaeus would take the hilarity of the Kuzco & Pacha "hate each other but forced to cooperate to survive" dynamic up to 11.
Enter Kronk, a goddamn marid in the service of Yzma. His millennia-long work history is why he has so many strange and inexplicable skills and knowledge. Kuzco and Pacha do not know what he is because Pacha is a commoner and Kuzco's an idiot, but Bartimaeus sure as hell knows.
That squirrel that Kronk talks to at one point is actually a disguised imp or foliot and Kronk just has a conversation with it in Assyrian or some other language completely unknown to the magicians of Peru.
The angry chef in the diner that Kronk has to replace is a cameo by Faquarl. He's about to follow Kuzco out of the kitchen and murder him with a meat cleaver for making his job harder (after Bartimaeus frantically warns him not to while trying to stay out of Faquarl's sight, not necessarily because they'll fight but because Faquarl will never let him live down working for a twit like Kuzco if he finds out) when Kronk shows up, and Faquarl draws the line at marids barging into his kitchen.
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(only answer if you're comfortable discussing nsfw)
You know that post about the characters' kinks (idk if you rbed it or someone else)?
I think it's mostly right about a-yao. he def would have a power kink (i was origanally sold on this by a topping from the bottom chengyao fic), but i could also imagine him enjoying some pampering in sex. the phrase 'princess treatment' comes to mind (although i think that phrase might be a spa thing).
and this complements the ships
like. imagine lxc servicing him. for once, lxc's isn't having to make choices where the options are Thing That Will Hurt People A and Thing That Will Hurt People B. JGY is getting some well deserved time not thinking about which role he has to play in the social hierarchy. it's all just cozy hours that he and JGY have squirrelled away.
nmj gets to express all his Mother hen instincts while simultaneously getting laid! he can let go off all that Important Leader BS and be soft and tender with the person he wants to take care of.
also. i know people talk abt jiang cheng being a praise-kink having sub who cries during sex (very true and not at all shameful), but i'm sure some gentle service topping would make him very happy. he's making jgy happy! a feat rarely accomplished by man. he's doing a good job even if he's the one telling jgy *he's* doing a good job. jiang cheng loves projects and 'make a-yao feel special' is the best kind of project.
then there's wrh. the perfect man to tell jgy he's perfect and make him feel pampered and special. specifically because of jgy's daddy issues. if he's at a point where he actually trusts wrh, i'm sure jgy would love this.
nhs. praising giving. likes being in charge of things that are fun. has laways kept tabs on nmj's wellbeing and would be doing the same for jgy if they were close/dating. now just apply this to the bedroom! i need'nt say more.
xue yang tho. not sure what to do with that one.
-regular anon
Hey, regular anon!! Haha sorry this took so long, I have no problem talking about nsfw stuff actually!
I don't remember the post you mention (so it probably wasn't me who reblogged it lol), but I totally agree with you!
I'm sure that JGY would normally be one great power bottom, even a mean top XD, as he absolutely has a thing for control, and I firmly believe that it comes basically from his need to feel safe: the more in charge of a situation, the safer he is. And he would enjoy that!
But I also believe that if he was to trust his partner enough, he would let himself be taken care of. Or at least it would be something that would do him good, even if he would be hesitant about letting someone else do the work for a change and being shown that he can receive without having to earn it.
And yes, it works well in the context of ships.
LXC would certainly appreciate having the worst dilemma he has to face being where to start pampering JGY xD. He's a kind and gentle person, so doing his best to shower his A-Yao in affection would be like second nature. Making a loved one feel good, what a joy!
There are not a lot of chances for NMJ to show his tender side, and he is also one to appreciate hard work and reward it accordingly, not to mention he is very protective. There's the saber spirit too, so having something else to distract him from that, making him focus on little A-Yao fully would do him well too.
With JC I think it's a situation similar to JGY in some regard, not so much about control, but about feeling fully accepted and reassured, and being a top is another way to achieve that: procuring someone pleasure, making them feel safe with him, lower their guard and trust him, seeing the effect he has on someone and being encouraged. JC is also a protective person who is fiercely devoted to the few he holds dear, caring for JGY is a sense a very personal thing bc they share so much similar baggage. Also he just likes to know he is doing a good job.
Oh, WRH. As you can imagine, this one is my favorite in this scenario bc of how much it would mean coming from him XD. Just imagine you are a smol guy who everybody looks down on and who has to continuously prove himself... and THEN you have the most imposing, powerful man caring for you, servicing you, telling you how perfect you are, how good you are... it'd be easy for him to crash you, and YET here he is, pampering you, validating you, making you feel like the most special person bc how could you not be when you have This Man telling you about how he would burn down the world for you :').
I can see it all being very playful and sweet with NHS. He is known for being a lazy guy who would normally prefer himself getting pampered, but him doing it for JGY would feel like a fun experiment, and I imagine NHS of all ppl being one JGY would trust easily (if we don't include canon ending lol). Maybe not having a lot of faith in how would NHS perform a first, but being pleasantly surprised and it's all giggles and jokes. All part of his evil plan to get JGY to relax and stop worrying about work!
OMG XY. Tbh I can only see these two having some nasty, disrespectful sex XD, JGY trusting the delinquent enough to actually be intimate with him, but XY is too much of a wild card to be fully service top imo, much less a gentle selfless one that would pamper him. It would still be a good session of catharsis tho :P.
#replies#mdzs#jin guangyao#allyao#xiyao#nieyao#chengyao#ruoyao#sangyao#xueyao#all the yao bc he deserves to be pampered and spoiled and cherished#aslo bc I like my blorbos to be bottoms precisely bc of this#bc they get to be princesses ;u;#and he could totally use some time of getting his mind blanked by pleasure and not having to worry about a thing#letting himself be serviced instead of the other way round in every other aspect of his life
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King Foltest
Chest 1: Unlike the other kings of the North, Foltest did not hate the Elder Races. On the contrary, he spoke fluent Elder Speech and was a connoisseur of elven poetry and dwarven ale. Nevertheless, he fought against the Squirrels with unbridled ruthlessness. He sentenced every prisoner of war to the breaking wheel, considered sympathetic humans as spies, and confined all non-humans to segregated city quarters. "After all," he thought, "reasons of state sometimes demand sacrifices."
Chest 2: Foltest claimed dozens of wartime victories – often against overwhelming enemy forces. What was his secret to success? An analytical mind? Swift and decisive action? The king himself used to say that he owed his many victories to an excellent memory. For he knew the names of all his officers – even many of the rank-and-file. He understood their strengths and weaknesses, thus enabling him to assign the right person to any task. As a result, most in Foltest's service considered themselves friends to the king. And all were prepared to give their life for him.
Chest 4: King Foltest was not particularly religious as rulers go. He did not observe fasts nor venture out on pilgrimages. In fact, often without a second thought, he had broken all religious edicts concerning one's private affairs in the alcove. Nevertheless, he spared no expense when it came to erecting new temple and even agreed to a tithe, proving a significant drain on the royal treasury. Yet, to what end? Although he doubted the existence of the gods, he recognized that the power of their priests was very real. Any attempt to limit their influence might provoke their holy wrath...
Scroll 1: Foltest seemed the ideal ruler. Intelligent, generous, industrious, and – according to all accounts – devilishly handsome. Yet, none are free of fault. Especially kings...
Scroll 2: In Foltest's case, his failing was excessive amorousness. Indeed, the Lord of Temeria, Pontar, Mahakam, and Sodden could not control himself in matters of the flesh.
Scroll 3: If only Foltest had limited his conquests of love to bored widows and adventurous townswomen... Alas, he preferred to chase after priestesses, the wives of his allies, and the daughters of friends... Even his own sister.
Scroll 4: Foltest's uninhibited lust proved his ultimate downfall. The King of Temeria – a celebrated hero of the Nilfgaard wars – did not fall at Sodden or Brenna. No... Rather, he perished in the midst of civil war against a former lover and their bastard children.
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Spoken like a true product of academia.
Mr. Golarz, you do understand, or at least you should understand that the Bill of Rights and the Constitution as a whole are not there to provide Rights to the government but put the government on notice of the Rights we as Free Citizens have already. It further lays out in the text the governments responsibility to protect our Rights, both individual and as a group. Our Rights preempt the Government, our Rights exist without the Government thus the GOOBERMENT cannot remove a Right, nor can they curb a Right for the convenience of the Government.
"As a veteran, father, grandfather, and citizen I say the AR-15-style rifle must be outlawed in every corner of this country." and? Me too.
Short rant:
I am tired of Veteran's saying "I'm a Veteran" so my opinion is more weighted on a given subject. Bring a Veteran gives you no special secret squirrel insight into freedom beyond the fact that you have paid the bill for yours. I spent more than 20 Years in the Service, I am no more qualified dole out freedom as I see fit than I am to give freedom. BUT, (And there is always a but.) as an educated individual I understand that a Right is something you have from birth, no man or government get's to determine your level of participation in that Right, that is up to the individual.
Also, I become suspicious of any Veteran who first advocated for the remove of Rights and freedoms, this flies in the face of our Oath. As a Veteran I do not get to cherry pick what Rights I like or what Rights I will defend. I have to defend them all.
Case in Point:
I do not think burning the flag in protest is ok. I don't think the flag should be made in to Underroos (dating myself there.) or swimwear, or any number of other novity items the flag is used for. With that said I will standby and defend a persons right to do just that because 1A says it is protected. I don't get to look past that protection provided by the Constitution just because I find it distasteful.
In short, the Veteran qualifier means very little to me unless that qualifier is being use to show you have direct first hand knowledge over a subject. (I.E., A special forced operator knowing hoe to eat snakes better, and Infantry member knowing how to conduct ambush operations better, a combat engineer knowing how to blow shit up better. But the general blanket of "I'm a Veteran" so I have a more profound understanding of Rights is horseshit.
I quickly discount Veterans who say shit like "The most Alice in Wonderland aspect of this gun controversy is the allowance, ownership, and use of automatic weapons of war — pure insanity." Mr. Golarz, the bulk of privately owned firearm's in the United States are not automatic. That was stopped in 1934, and further curtailed in 1986, The fact is, about 99.5% of all automatic firearms in the U.S. today are controlled and used by federal and state governments, no the citizenry of the U.S.
When a person, any person, regardless of qualification advocates for the government to not only remove a Right but make it a punishable crime after "a brief period of time" draws an extra level of scrutiny and skepticism from me, more so when they try to qualify that with the phrase "I'm a Veteran."
End side rant.
"Former Chief Justice Warren Burger summarized the action of the Supreme Court in District of Columbia v. Heller as, “one of the greatest pieces of fraud ever perpetrated on the American people.” Years later Justice John Paul Stephens declared that the decision in Heller was the worst decision ever rendered by a Supreme Court." Why would you try to use Justice Stephens ridiculous quote when the SCOTUS has actual ruling that are so much worse in some cases still "good law", here are a few examples. (side note: Heller was not a bad ruling, it was a correct ruling.)
First and foremost, Dred Scott v. Stanford (1857).
In one ruling the SCOTUS said Black folks could not be considered American Citizens ever. It did not matter if the person in question was a freed slave in a state of territory that allowed them rights and privilege's such as voting they were still mostly slaves and thus sub-human.
Buck v. Bell (1927).
This case that is still "Good law" says that forced sterilization of those with "intellectual disabilities" in the care of the state either through forced "in males by vasectomy and in females by salpingectomy".
"Three generations of imbeciles are enough." Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in his delivered opinion to the court.
Eugenics much?
Korematsu v. United States (1944).
SCOTUS ruled that people could be interned into prisons, all their money and possession taken based on how they looked and fear. (Yes, that is simplifying the case but that is what it boiled down to.) The court ruled that individual American Citizens Rights were out weighed by the Governments fear of their Citizens based exclusively on racial background.
Of course there are other turds like:
Bowers v. Hardwick (1986), that Justice harry Blackmun called "an almost obsessive focus on homosexual activity." and Citizens United v. FEC (2010) that made donations to super PAC's protected under the 1st Amendment.
I have been trying to post this for half the day. I had to remove all the source links, post the article first then reopen it and past in my part in, then repost it.
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Okay, more about Damen:
Specifically, catering to how he treats the woods. Yes, he maintains it and makes sure there are no diseased trees. Yes, animals DO live in the woods. Deers, squirrels, wolves, birds, mice- Just to name a few. No, he does not hunt in his own woods UNLESS he absolutely has to. Population control.
The diseased trees, or the ones dying and old, do get chopped down (stump and all), and then get used as fire wood, so it doesn't lay to rot or damage other trees. Damen uses the wood for either heating in the winter, or for heating up metal for hammering. Either way, it'll get used up, even if it doesn't seem possible.
This is all done in private, but people either call him an animal whisperer (with how he interacts with pets and service animals), and some call him a forest spirit due to how toned in he is to the forest itself.
^ With that last point being said, I'm debating on something: Should he have hidden powers, similar to how Lauren's are? Should he be aware of powers he has? Or should he not have any at all and just be that good with taking care of the forest?
If he DID have powers, they wouldn't be strong at all. Basically, able to tell a diseased or dead trees apart from live one's, and being able to communicate/understand some animals (not all, just some). They would be VERY different from Lauren's as well, weaker comparative to hers, but helpful for maintaining such a large amount of land.
Thoughts?
#damen micheals#listen actually getting my thiughts out about him is helping me way mkre than I thought-#plus- why not? its not skewing canon just.. gently knocking at its door after leaving a box in its steps#schrodiner's cat kind of deal: it may be a pie or it may be boobietrapped! you never know!
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