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rainstops · 4 months

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found colors for unspoken feelings

childe x gn!artist!reader warnings: fights, scars, small mentions of blood

summary: childe got into a fight with you over something you loved doing. he immediately regret the words he said, but even worse than that, he brought back an old habit of yours which he fought so hard to get rid off

a/n: eurgh this took me so long for no reason...

wc: 2.9k

you had these scars on your hands, and you hated them. no one knew where they came from except for your boyfriend, childe. he has caressed your hands so many times, and told you before, that he doesn't mind the crescent shaped marks on your hand.

he knew you used to press your nails into your palm so hard, that they started to bleed. you’re an artist, and always wanted to do something with your talent, yet your parents were more than just unsupportive of your dreams. they started suggesting that you put your free time in something other than your ‘little doodles’.

yet their words grew harsher and harsher over the years you lived.

whenever you were once again told that you're useless, and that your paintings don't look any different from those compared to a five year old, your hands would start bleeding again.

maybe you would've given it all up, if it wasn't for your, at that time, friend childe. he was your rock, your support in all of this.

how many times had you texted him late in the evening and asked him if you could stay over at his place? how many times had he cleaned out the wounds on your palms?

He helped you move out of your parents house, into your current shared apartment, and helped you be comfortable drawing again.

yet even with all of his support, you grew protective of your work. you barely told anyone about what you did, and was afraid of taking criticism.

one person you were not afraid of though. you were never too afraid to ask childe for his opinion on your recent piece. you were never too afraid to turn around the canvas, and show him what you had done with your time.

and everytime again, he was proud of you. he peppered your face with kisses, and told you what he especially liked.

and over the years, even your so much hated scars started to fade.

apparently his job has started to take a lot more from his energy though.

he never said that, but you just assume that that is the reason for his lack of response to your proudly painted canvas.

nowadays you never got more from him, other than a simple ‘i like it’, or even just a hum of approval.

and it got you thinking, if you would stop showing him what you had done, would he care enough to ask?

so that's what you did.

the next day when he came home from work, you didn't ask if you could show him what you had painted. you simply greeted him with a warm dinner, and a kiss on the lips. you hadn't mentioned your art for the whole day.

but still, while lying in bed, your thoughts told you that he was probably just exhausted, and that he might have forgotten, but tomorrow he will surely ask you about it!

he never asked you about anything.

was he really that forgetful? a week had passed, and you just wanted to show him one piece, that took you significantly long.

“babe, i have something to show you!”, the excitement not fading even though childe had forgotten what you spent the majority of your time with.

“sure what is it?”, your boyfriend didn't even look up from his dinner, but that was okay! he was probably just really hungry.

“i’ll get it!”

you quickly ran to your room, and grabbed the beautifully painted canvas.

yet childes reaction was as little as the hope you had left for any sign that you two were not drifting apart.

“oh, that's cool babe”

thats cool?

you felt your heart clench, when you realized that's all he had to say. still, you weren't ready to give up yet.

“what do you like about it?”, what were you even trying.

childe took another look at the painting, and then at you.

“i don't know, it looks pretty though”, you quietly looked away.

“okay, thanks for your feedback, I’ll be heading to sleep now”, you smiled, but the hole in your heart was growing by the second. “alright good night babe”

the bed felt cold. you hugged your own body, trying to keep yourself warm, yet the cold sheets you were lying between made you shiver.

you could no longer blame childes dismissive act on his work, and him being so exhausted. what could have changed your boyfriend so much, that he was no longer the person that made you feel so safe? a tear rolled down your cheek, onto your pillow.

when you woke up that morning, childe was not there. you assumed he must have headed to work earlier than usually.

you forced yourself out of bed, ignoring how heavy your body felt on your legs. that was when a specific thought came to mind. maybe you should start showing your boyfriend your drawings without him having to ask. and maybe, just maybe, he would start being excited to see them again.

you don't remember what made you come to this conclusion. maybe desperation for the love you used to feel everyday, which had now left your life as quick as it had appeared.

so that's what you did. everyday you had proudly presented your boyfriend your drawings which you had put minute after minute and hour after hour of your days into. longing for his love and attention back you were ready to do anything.

probably if you had told anyone how you felt, and what you were doing, they would have called you desperate.

but no one could expect from you to give up the love that had saved you over and over again. no one could expect that you would give up the only person who was there for you in your hardest and happiest times.

so youre not giving up yet.

even though childes lack of enthusiasm remained the same, you were glad he was at least not shaming you for your hobby like your parents used to. you don't know how you would react if he were to act that way, but it was childe you were talking about.

you were convinced he could never even act that way.

but how long could you still continue this? everyday where you presented your work to him, and he would just react with a disinterested ‘nice’, felt like a weakening punch in the gut.

this wasn’t working. maybe you should just talk to him about his lack of a reaction to your hobby and your work. the work which he used to love so much.

so maybe that was the right thing to do.

when he came home from that specific day at work, you had shown him a drawing which was especially big. you had put so much work into it, you barely took a break the whole day to make sure it was finished before he came home.

maybe you were going to get a bigger reaction out of him this time.

“looks great babe”

he didn’t even look at it.

what were you doing wrong?

“childe, you didn’t even look at it”, maybe you really needed to talk to him.

“huh?”, seriously? did he even care? has he never even listened to you?

“childe you don’t even care about my drawings like you used to, do you?”, suddenly he got up from his chair. and you put down your drawing, leaning it against the wall.

childe rubbed his face. “you know [name], I’m really tired, can we discuss this some other time?”, you had told yourself for so long that he was just tired, but was that even true?

“childe you’ve been tired for months now. don’t get me wrong, i cant even begin to imagine how exhausting your job must be, but I don’t even really feel like you acknowledge me, other than eating the food i cook for you”

you had to try really hard for this to not turn into an argument. emphasis on tried, because childe was not willing to listen to you. it felt like he was never going to be listening to you, and you needed to get that out of your system. maybe this wouldn't be the best time to tell him, but was it ever going to be the best time?

“i understand that you might be tired, but just tell me what happened? why are you being like this?”, your tone remained calm, yet your muscles tensed up.

“all i am asking of you is the attention that you used to give me. i understand that you can be tired when coming home from work, that's not something i'm denying, but-”

“look, [name], do you really want to know?”, his tone was a lot harsher than yours, and it made a shiver travel up your spine.

you took a second, but nodded and gave him a hum.

“you know that while i am going out to work, and let you stay here all day, all you do is paint and draw. you know that there are so many things that you could spend your time with, but instead you waste your day just holding a paintbrush all day”, childe words were absolutely taking you apart. wether that was his intention or not, that's what he had achieved.

when you two first moved into the apartment, you had told him that you would go find a job, but he insisted that you should stay home. if he had anything to say, or if he had wished for you to get a job, he could have said so, couldn't he?

“childe if you had wanted me to get a job, you could have said so. i would have started looking for someth-”

“you're missing the point! i am saying that you keep wasting all your time, and then expect me to praise you for it! your stupid drawings are just a huge waste of your days! every single day i come home and you remind me of how much you waste your time! do you seriously think that i could be proud of you for that?!”

maybe trying to confront him today wasn't such a good idea, yet this felt like it was a really long time coming.

when you blinked, you found little tears collected in the corners of your eyes. yet even when they fell childe didn't notice. he kept ranting on and on about things he had already said.

while he kept talking and talking, your nails had found your palms once again. an old habit you had wished to finally be rid off.

the memories came flooding back of your parents shouting at you for the same thing, your boyfriend was shouting at you right now. the same boyfriend that first safed you of the mental torture your parents put you through. the same boyfriend who would cut your nails for you, so the wounds wouldn't be so bad. the same boyfriend who had praised you for your talent.

the stupid thing about this was that childe isn't actually mad about you wasting your day. he wasn't even able to put an exact finger on it. you could blame it on him being exhausted from work, and needing to take out his exhaustion somewhere, or maybe he was mad about not spending enough time with you. maybe he was mad at himself for not giving you enough attention, but the hurtful things have been said, and there was nothing he could do to take them back.

when childe finally looked at you after ranting for a good minute, his heart dropped to his stomach and maybe even further.

there you were standing, sniffling, looking down at your feet while your nails were digging into the soft flesh of your palms. your face was wet from your tears, and your hand only reached up to wipe them away, and then to return into a tight fist.

“i understand, I hic i will draw less, and find better things to do”

childe often found himself wishing to be able to turn back the time, but never had he prayed so hard for being able to take back his words.

“w-wait, [name] i-”, childe felt like all the words and apologies he could have given you were knocked out of his brain in an instant, and he panicked when you wanted to walk past him to leave the room.

although the worst thing was that you were pressing your nails so hard into your palms again, to a point where you were bleeding from the amount of pressure you were releasing. childe felt as if he had been punched into the stomach. the habit of yours that he was fighting so hard to get rid off, had returned. it had returned because of him.

“[name] please i don't know why i said that, i was just- maybe i was just tired from work, although i cant blame it on that-”, childe frantically took your hands into his, yet your nails already had your blood on them.

childe felt like a world in front of his eyes fell apart. the bad habit of yours that he tried fighting for so long, was close to returning. he was the one who tore your scars back open, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“[name], [name] please- I didnt mean to say these things, please”, all childe could do was beg and repeat your name over and over as he felt his eyes water.

he frantically held your hands, and let you to a chair, to sit down. tears were still repeatedly staining your face, and childe had rushed off to get some bandages for your hands.

childe rushed back and almost fell down onto his knees in front of you.

“please just let me-”, childe proceeded to clean your wounds a little, and then bandage up your hand. while he was handling your hand, you didnt move or talk one bit. other than quiet sniffles, you just let childe do what he needed to do. in the mean time, your head hung low and your eyes havent stopped staring at that one spot on your leg.

you didnt know how to feel. how could you? the one person you believed you could turn to, whenever your parents were rude to you, has done the same thing you were so afraid of happening again. and why? because of stress at work? because he had a bad day?

“[name] i know youre mad, just please- please say anything”, childe pleaded with you.

“I’m not mad”, you replied and your voice broke. you werent even sure if that was true. you were more hurt than angry, but then again you were also just confused.

“its late… can i go to bed?”, why were you asking him?

“of course- anything you want, I’ll sleep on the couch for tonight”, you were both crying and overwhelmed by emotions.

you nodded and headed up the stairs to the room you and childe usually shared. a million thoughts flooded your mind, but for some reason your chest felt so empty.

the person you usually relied on when you felt this way, was now the cause of your feelings. who were you supposed to turn to?

then another thought filled your head. what if your parents were right all along? maybe you should have done anything else but waste your life painting stupid pictures.

you cried yourself to sleep that night.

and even after you woke up, you could feel the daggers that were sent through your heart.

you opened the door to your room. “childe?”, you called out, your voice being utterly shaky.

was he at work?

when you opened the door to your art room, you didnt expect childe to be sitting in the middle of your paintings. you couldnt read the expression which was resting on hsi face.

what childe hadnt realized was that these paintings were small pieces of your soul. every single one of the paintings were thoughts and feelings that you couldnt find the words for, so instead you found the colors for your unspoken feelings. childe has never wished for anything as much as he has wished that he paid more attention to you.

“childe…?”, your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and his head shot towards the door.

“oh- sorry i was just… well uh, do you need anything?”, childe stammered, getting up from his sitting position.

“i was just looking for you… why are you here?”, your voice remained quiet and shaky.

“i was just… looking at all your work that i had missed… and all the time… well uh- if you want me to leave ill go-”

“its… its okay i just wanted to see where you were” with those words you turned around, about to leave the room.

“wait-! [name] I… I’m sorry, I dont know what to say to let you know how bad i feel-”

“childe i know”, his face was met with the sight of a sad smile on your face.

“w-what can i do to make you feel better? I’ll do anything- please”

“I dont know, honestly…”, a shaky sigh escaped your lungs.

“please… know that i love you [name], more than anything”

“i… love you too”

part 2? reblogs are appreciated!

#rainstops #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #childe x reader #genshin childe #tartaglia #childe tartagalia #tartaglia x reader

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mcromwell · 30 days

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Genuine question, sorry if it's dumb -

How do you work when there's something on the line? I find I freeze, and it's just so much more difficult to properly organize myself to produce something I'm proud of. But you've been to conventions, and you sell your work, so I'm assuming you feel pressure at least *sometimes.* do you work with it? Around it?

Hey Tymbul, it's not a dumb question, it's actually a really good one. I can only answer it to the best of my own abilities, in regards to my own art and practice, so mileage may vary.

This feeling of something being is "on the line" was what burned me out hard in 2019/20. I'd been making and sharing art for decades and all the while my thoughts took the shape of, "it has to be GOOD, it has to SAY something, it needs to hit X and Y requirement to be worthy" etc. Wherever that habit of pressuring myself came from, it wasn't helpful. I would glare at the blank page and curse every sketch I made because it (and by extension, myself) wasn't ever good enough.

I knew something had to change, so I changed. I began trying to make art with no pressure. Instead of pushing myself I let my foot off the brake. I changed the way I talked to myself about art. "I'm going to make this as good as I can. And if I can't, there's always next painting." I began starting a piece with fast, easy, not-precious stuff--random paint smears, doodles, gesture sketches. The pressure was off when all I had to do was start with trash and play around. If it just wasn't working and I had to scrap it or start over, oh well, it was just trash. I still run into this pressure today, though. Growth ain't linear and all that. Old habits die hard. I have to snap myself out of it with a feral screeching JUST THROW PAINT ON IT RRRRRRRRGH and I can usually let up on the brakes enough to get it going. It's a journey.

I like to think of this in terms of dog training. If you punch your dog and yell at it, that dog is going to have fear and doubt and won't be a healthy dog capable of performing the tasks you ask of it. But if you use positive reinforcement, they develop confidence and become dependable and sturdy. If you sit down to make art and every time its a barrage of IT HAS TO BE GOOD! YOU HAVE TO BE PROUD OF IT! EVERY NEW PIECE HAS TO BE BETTER! IF IT ISN'T YOU'LL BE A FAILURE! WHY AREN'T YOU DRAWING YET then man, that dog is cowering in the corner, it is not going to sit or fetch or anything. What if instead you said, "Okay! Time to make something. Let's do warm-ups and thumbnails to prepare so I'm ready to jump in. I am open to surprising myself by making something I'm excited about, but I won't beat myself up if today isn't that day. I know by doing this I'm practicing and getting better, it is never a waste." You are much more likely to Do a Thing if that thing feels good to do. That's just being an animal, man. Positive feedback.

To be honest, though, I still haven't found a successful way to make commissions less like pulling teeth. My method of art-making is to fuck around and find out and that's not a conducive method for a comm, which usually has a ton more expectation and strict parameters and my nemesis: Should-Look-Like. I am good at some things, I am not good at comms. Progress is not linear. I am still learning. My efforts to let up on the brakes made it so the car was a lot harder to control... for better or worse.

Hope this helps. Mostly, my advice is to find out how making art can feel good to you and then make a ton of it. Make more art than you think you should. It gets easier. And don't punch your dog.

#art advice #art block #self-talk #that being said I often fear I have 0 discipline but then again I am sick so I might just be kinda grumpy about stuff

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the-ninjago-historian · 3 months

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Post Series Jaya Doodles and Headcanons!🌊⚡🌊⚡🌊⚡🌊⚡🌊⚡🌊⚡🌊⚡🌊⚡ (Bonus Next Gen Headcannons!👀)

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! 😁💖 I worked really hard on this. So I hope you all enjoy! Headcanons are below the cut! - ✒️🐉

1) They have a HUGE wedding. Many friends and Family come. And I headcannon that Jay has a very big extended family so that's a lot!🤣

2) They move into the old lighthouse and fix it up/fortify it. It eventually becomes a small rest stop for ships.

3) Nya runs a mechanics shop for boats and water craft there. And Jay has a shop to sell salvage, drift wood, and knickknacks. He also does a little inventing on the side. Although it doesn't usually end well. Lol. Name ideas for their shops would be appreciated!

4) They have a LOT of kids. Five to be exact. Ray, Maya, Ed, and Edna are very proud grandparents. The kids are, in order from youngest to oldest, Piper, Ren, Wynn, Raine, and Poe. Currently I only have a design for Poe. (Seen above.) But the rest are coming. I can assure you. I'll provide some descriptions in the meantime!

Poe: Pictured above! He's very calm and charismatic. And while he's a good fighter and pirate hunter, he enjoys quieter hobbies such as painting. His main weapon is a harpoon.

Raine: Very light skinned. With curly silver hair. (Her hair color is caused by her unique elemental power, Storm!⛈️) She's a little in the small side. But still sturdy and a real fighter. She's a tough cookie! Raine eventually becomes part of the Next Gen Ninjas.

Wynn: Light skinned, with black curly hair. Always wearing a pair of flight goggles. (He's an inventor like Ed and Edna.) Eternally curious and questioning.

Ren: He's got red hair like Jay, and tan complexion like his mom. Ren's got an explorer streak and loves charting new islands. He plans to sail to the other side of Ninjago's oceans someday. He's almost never seen without Wynn. The two are inseparable.

Piper: The baby of the family! She has blonde hair like Libber. She may be little. But she's brave. Not too much on her currently. But she will have a bigger role to play in the future.

5) Cole LOVES their kids. And is very protective of them. (Like "would give his life for them" kind of protective.) He practically treats them as though they were his own. He's their bestest uncle, besides Kai.

6) Raine has a mix of both Nya and Jay's element. She's the master of Storm. She's the first case of a merged element in Ninjago history. And when she was young, it was VERY unstable. Raising a super powered baby was NOT easy.

7) They are pirate hunters. For reasons...🧞‍♂️ Anyway! Their family is known for keeping the coasts of Ninjago safe and sound. Especially their oldest boy Poe, who's shaping up to be a great pirate hunter.

8) They own a flying ship! They needed a way to get to shore fast and since they didn't have the Bounty, Nya and Jay just built one of their own. It's smaller but just the right size for them. And it's called the Storm Rider. It's even got cannons for taking down pirate ships!

(P.S. Two quick things! One, these headcanons are related to a fanseason I'm working on called Ninjago: New Genesis. So that's why they don't line up with Dragons Rising. And two, yes. I noticed Poe's eyes are miscolored in one pic. They're supposed to be brown. I didn't notice until after I finished.😂)

(Tag List: @only-lonely-stars @hydroelectricjaya😁👋)

#lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago lego #My art #jaya ninjago #jay x nya #ninjago jaya #nya x jay #jay ninjago #jaya #ninjago jay #jay walker #nya ninjago #ninjago nya #nya smith #nya jiang #ink dragon #Ninjago: New Genesis

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 9 months

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Always an Angel, Never the God Pt 3

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Runaway!Reader

Words: 1096

You left a trace. Hiccup has some thoughts and a lot of pieces of his own to pick up along the way.

Tags: Runaway Reader, Angst, Heartbreak, Projection, Denial, Internal dialogue, First to Third break is NonCanon/SemiCanon/Can be read Separately

Hiccup traced the faint outline of a Night Fury in the ice with his fingertips.

He tried to suppress the bubbling hope and dread at the thought his mother had been lying to him and his father about being alone all those years.

He had left to get some air and to give his parents time together to linger while the snowstorm outside abated, taking shelter under a misty overhang of ice just off one of the tunnels leading back into the main dwelling. One that had fortunately not fallen victim to the heavy layers of snow drowning the uncovered surfaces below.

Toothless had followed him out, of course, and sniffled curiously at the ground, giving the other few doodles littered across the ice an inspection of his own. Hiccup sat back, covering his mouth with his hand as he mulled over the implications.

He then stood, staring back into the tunnel leading back into the sanctuary. Much of the awe he had felt earlier at the discovery of his mother had washed away and a wave of uncertainty and hurt replaced it.

He knew he had been given grace. A lot more than he deserved.

Since everything had changed, terrible mistakes became minor inconveniences. People no longer whispered about Hiccup the weird, Hiccup the Useless, the Hiccup who just didn’t get it. Rather, every jest on his behalf was now just another one of his strange little quirks.

He did his part. He was happy to have a part now. A real one.

(He’d had a part. Blacksmith, inventor, friend.)

(Mistake.)

He thought they’d do the same for you. But you weren’t doing well. Even though he was busy with his new role, he noticed. He noticed when you fell behind, when you still couldn’t seem to find your place.

(His father, looking at him with shining eyes.)

He begged for you to not fumble this chance that you both had to be different. To be a part of something real, something tangible.

(He was so proud.)

Except.

(It made him sick.)

He knew what it was like. To be the odd one out, to not be able to do things quite the way you were supposed to. After all, if he hadn’t had Toothless then he would still be the same old Hiccup.

(He felt like the same old Hiccup.)

So yeah, it made sense that you weren’t always the first on call. It made sense, when you lagged behind. Why you weren’t part of the group the same way everyone else was.

(Was he?)

Like a wall had been shattered and the curtains pulled, he’d been witness to some of the moments between the other Dragon Riders he’d not been included in when he was ‘other.’ Moments that he just couldn’t quite indulge in, that used to be aimed at him, that caused something ugly and sad to curl tight in his stomach.

That left the sour taste of stomach acid on his tongue that he couldn’t wash away, no matter what he drank or how many times he tried.

So he vouched for you when the whispers started. Hounded them until they stopped, despite the creeping feeling that they were right. Clung tightly onto the few moments you were able to spend together. The way things used to be.

(Pushed down the tiny voice telling him he still didn’t belong.)

Days. It took days for them to notice you were gone. Truly gone. And they couldn’t be sure at all when it had happened, what or why.

They assumed you were dead. Once the next devastating winter set in, there was no way you could have made it on your own.

They locked your hut. An empty grave. The key, he’d taken and melted down into other things.

But. there was always a but.

Hiccup was a good handyman. For the most part. He’d caused a lot of handy-requiring, meaning he’d had a lot of practice.

He broke your lock.

Hiccup stared down at the piles of maps, noted, traced and copied sprawled across your desk, pulled out from underneath a loose floorboard by your bed. He clenched the various compasses and sea charts hidden in drawers and carelessly thrown under dishware.

It turned out you had a lot of free time on your hands.

There was something missing. Something missed when the other riders would joke and prod, wielding inside jokes he’d never been privy to just as easily as they wielded swords and hammers. And now he had no one to share with when they did.

There was something missing late at night working on a new tailfin, or a rig, or early in the morning when he was too tired to piece metal jigs together.

It just wasn’t the same, going to Fishlegs or Snotlout with these things, and heaven knows that Astrid wouldn’t entertain the idea at all. It was the dragons that appealed to her most. She was an early riser and an early sleeper and for many reasons she appealed to him, but she just couldn’t be what Hiccup needed. Not then.

You faded away as if you were a ghost, a door to a room no one used.

They didn’t get how it felt to spend all those years being the odd one out. He needed someone who got it. He needed someone who got him. A friend.

And like a note in the margins of a bad story, eventually no one mentioned you at all.

He flew as far and as fast as he could. Mapping the world, exploring farther and farther, as if he might somehow be able to trace your footsteps, following a lost trail that one day a long time ago you might have paved.

He’d flown as if, once he’d flown far enough, he might have been able to understand where you’d gone.

(Why you left him.)

They figured a way to identify dragons through scale patterns. It was a skill Fishlegs had perfected first, taking vague, long held knowledge and putting it into practice, doing the math.

Hiccup ran his hand down the side of this dragon, eyeing the torn wings, the spiked crown. The jaw.

Recording its age, its gender, his place of origin.

“You know this dragon?” Valka asked cautiously. Distrustfully. She was leaning against her staff, face guarded. He didn’t need to look to know that last bit, he heard it just fine.

Hiccup furrowed his brow. Two fish, a scratch under the chin. Dragon nip, a saddle, carefully woven and tenderly worn.

“I trained it.”

#hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #httyd imagine #toothless #valka haddock #httyd 2

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lizzie-wendigo · 4 months

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Well, now that I have finished these doodles, I'd like a little constructive criticism to the pilot, its fandom and its creator:

Pilot & Creator:

I must say that this pilot is extremely interesting, even the animation is better than many projects from big studios! Just knowing that one of Gooseworx's (the creator's) inspirations was the novel "I have no mouth and I must scream" is an important and interesting fact that drives you to watch this series!

Unfortunately I didn't see this pilot until the end of December, since its fandom really repelled me from seeing this project and I didn't know much about what they were talking about (I'll talk about that later), but I'm very glad I saw it. Its creator is a very creative person and she shows a lot of the maturity she has by making decisions based on HER DECISIONS and not by what the fandom wants (fan service).

Besides, I love the theories that people make regarding the plot of the series, personally I love the religious theory because of the references that gooseworxs makes.

Fandom:

Okay, I'm going into dangerous territory. I'm still undecided if I'll go in or not.

The reason is very simple, no one will deny me that the fandom is extremely sick, toxic and cringe; Which is why I didn't watch the pilot in the first place. I know not all fandom is like this, but at least 85% of it is horrible.

And I'm sorry to tell you this, but it's very possible that the same fandom will lead this project to failure and it goes without saying why. It's about to become like the fandom of Vivziepop projects like Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss (fandoms which I didn't last long in due to toxicity). At least Gooseworx is looking out for their fandom and trying to calm things down, not like "Miss Vivzi make polemics and look I'm inclusive AF, now go throw shit at Scott Cawthon for something that doesn't concern me but I still hate him, so that you don't see my hypocrisy creating characters that are also stereotypes while I boast about how proud I'm of my Latin ancestry even though I have never set foot in LATAM."

Plus, I found a ship that I love (but knowing the fandom, they might come and throw shit at me just because I like it) I'm still afraid of the fandom, but I trust that my audience is not toxic, and because they'll be able to enjoy the few fanarts that I will make of this project.

I can only hope that gooseworxs doesn't back down with this project and succeeds as it deserves.

#lizzie-wendigo #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus fanart #tadc gangle #the amazing digital circus gangle #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus caine #tadc kinger #the amazing digital circus kinger #tadc zooble #tadc ragatha #the amazing digital circus ragatha #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus jax #pomni #pomni fanart #the amazing digital circus pomni #jax x pomni #pomni x jax

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blu3-j · 11 months

Text

Welcome...Home..?

Overworked! GN! Reader x Welcome Home Crew

Chapter 3

Tw: Break down (Reader experiences a small break down), overall a bit of crying

Hoo, boy! This one's a long one! Strap in everybody!

So, as we left off, reader gets introduced to their...interesting situation, but doesn't have much time to process it before having to head in to work. What happens when the reader actually has a moment to process it? But the reader's not the only one in the story! The entire crew is here! So, how are they dealing with this stressful new situation?

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4

The day had gone by busy as usual. The restaurant was so busy that you were barely able to squeeze in a break. Just a small part of your shift, 2 buses had stopped by within the first few hours of you clocking in. Why, in all the world's name, did people decide to take a bus to a restaurant this early in the morning??? While one of your managers was kind enough, the other never bothered to care about anything more than their basic job, deciding to stay in the back office and never leaving unless a customer requested to see them. Any coworkers that had any sort of complaint or wanted to take a break were directed to the other manager. Thank god the nice manager was on today. It was torture when it was just the lousy one.

As for your classes, you only had one today. When you first scheduled your classes, you made note to keep them simple as they could easily pile up. What you didn't take into account was how busy work would be, and the class itself was labor intensive and required you to talk to so many people. You scheduled this class to be on its own for a reason, but it still dragged you down six feet under for energy.

The day felt as though it was never going to end. Little did you know, a little surprise waited for you when you finally found time to eat your packed lunch. A little note sat on the top of the simple meal, folded neatly with a caterpillar doodle drawn on the top fold.

"Y/N, it's wonderful to get to meet you! I knew you were a hard worker when I saw how peaceful you were sleeping this morning. According to your calendar, you're even busier than me! I noticed how dirty the house was, so I cleaned up a little. I hope you don't mind! You seemed so exhausted, and it's the least I can do to help make your already busy life easier. I hope you have a great day, shrimp! Make your day worth it to you! We're so proud of you, already! Signed, Howdy P."

It was small, but his written words made your day a little bit brighter. You almost found yourself smiling. The paper crinkled as you folded it up gently and put it in your pocket.

By the end of the day, you were once again exhausted---more than that, actually. It wasn't uncommon for you to be barely walking from exhaustion at the end of the day, and as much as you so dearly wanted to go home, the moment you sat down in the driver seat of your car you hesitated to turn the ignition key. The puppets were still there. Waiting for you. While you didn't think they would hurt you, your stomach twisted and churned at the idea of having to face that entire problem that you've been running from all day.

So you didn't.

Rather, you drove to the nearby library. By now the sun was already setting, and a little voice in the back of your mind urged you to go home. "Maybe you'll have some free time to do what you want," it whispered. "Maybe you'll have time to play some video games or go on a walk down that old path you used to love so much." But you didn't listen.

The bell above the door rang as you walked in. Unlike most libraries, it had a small cafe cove in the corner for those like you: completely exhausted and in college. It wasn't too far from the college you attended---just a block or two away---it was maybe a 5--10 minute walk at most from the college's main entrance to there. But you were tired enough as is, and walking was something you could barely do at the moment, so your car rested in its small parking lot. As you trudged through the entrance, the cove caught your attention. "Maybe a little bit of caffeine will do me some good."

Due to the lax nature of the building, there weren't many people that crowded the cove, so it didn't take nearly as long to get your coffee/tea as some places in town did. Not that you would know. This cove was the only coffee place you really ever went to for any sort of coffee or tea. Or at least for fresh and ready-to-drink on the go.

The cup warmed your hands as you held it gently to yourself and slowly trudged to a nearby table in the library. "Maybe I could take this chance to finally read that book I've been hearing so many things about." It was decided, then. You dropped your bag on the floor---a bit harder than you meant to---and set your caffeine salvation down to look for the book. When you finally found it, it had been buried in between the various other books; dusty and barely opened. A librarian friend of yours had once recommended it to you months ago, and now you finally set aside the time to read it.

"The Fall of it All" By Robin Feather

You found yourself quickly enthralled by the book. The story was of a servant named Eline serving princess and future queen Cassandra. The young eccentric princess quickly became close to Eline, and very soon began to allude to more secrets within the castle and its royal government. Upon the discovery of each hidden secret, Eline finds themselves further and further trapped in the middle of it all. Eline never once says a thing in the book; rather allowing the other characters and setting to tell the story around them. It brought a surprisingly well twist to the normal story-telling format. By the time you had ripped your attention from the book it was completely dark outside. That little voice in the back of your mind taunted you. "You can't keep running forever."

You sighed, and put a hastily made bookmark in between the pages. Maybe this would be nice to read at home. "And maybe reading it won't bring its characters to real life so they can live in my house." You chuckled at the thought. How ironic the situation you found yourself in was.

Thud.

You threw your empty cup in the trash bin. You had to rummage through your bag, but at the very bottom hid your library card. You wish you had more free time to come here more often like you originally planned, but you didn't have time for much of anything, anymore. The librarian quickly rang it up for you to borrow, and handed the pristine book back to you. With a final heave, you hoisted your bag on your shoulders.

"I can't keep running forever," you mumbled to yourself. It was completely dark out, with the only light being the occasional street lamp and the light from inside the library peeking out its windows. The cover on the book looked appealing, illuminated by the light's warm glow. If only you could just run away and forget it all.

But even Eline had to face their problems.

"I guess I can face mine, too."

The car ride home was quiet, with the radio softly playing whatever was deemed popular enough to bring in listeners. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. Your heart sank at the thought of facing those puppets again. They act so real...so..alive. Car headlights blinded you again and again as they passed you by, until eventually they were rarely seen on the road at all. Not many ever came up this far. Buildings turned to empty plains and then to forest as the world blurred by. You turned onto an all too familiar dirt road. Every gravel piece that your tires rolled over felt like another nail in the coffin. Another second closer to a dreadful climax.

The house was dark when you finally rolled in your car and parked. Were they asleep? Do they even sleep? Your heavy shoulders relaxed a little upon the thought. Maybe you won't have to face them, afterall. A gentle tired smile graced your face, and with a final sigh, you pulled out your keys and they jingled as you inserted one in the keyhole.

Click!

It was dark and quiet inside. It almost made you want to believe that what had happened this morning hadn't happened at all. Almost. You couldn't see far into the house, but from what you did see, your bookshelf in the hallway had been organized alphabetically, and the dust and webs had been wiped from the tables and nooks. Why is it so quiet? Finally, you closed the door behind you, engulfing you entirely in an inky black.

"SURPRISE!!!" A chorus of voices overwhelmed you, and the lights were turned on. After you recovered from the scare, you noticed how much more...lively the house was. Home-made banners and streamers adorned the ceiling, and colorful balloons and confetti were spread across the floor. One banner in particular read "WELCOME HOME, Y/N!!!" It was so colorful. The lights were so warm. And in the middle of it all stood the ones responsible for it. The cast of colorful puppets you had gotten to somewhat know this morning.

"I...uh..." You stammered, wide-eyed at the scene. How do you react to this? Most of them stayed silent and stared at you with expectant eyes. All for one, however. Julie.

"Y/N, you're finally back! Oh my gosh, we were waiting sooooo long! But you're back now! Wally, Howdy, and Barnaby said how scary this all must be for you like how we're all kinda scared right now, so I thought we could throw a surprise party for you! Oh, we have so much planned!" She dashed to your side and tugged on your shirt, beckoning for you to come forward. She pointed to each puppet as she rambled. "Sally has a short play, Barnaby has a comedy act, Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and me made cookies and cake, and Eddie and Wally made the decorations and some of the games!" A single utterance was made from Frank as she talked, correcting her grammar.

"Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and I. Not me, Julie." Julie paid Frank no mind, too enveloped in her excitement to notice him talk.

It all felt like too much. Too much all at once. Your body took a mind of its own as you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had dipped out of sight into the hallway, you instead found yourself locking yourself in your bedroom. Before you had even curled yourself up on the floor in front of the door, you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" Wally. He always seemed to know when you were distressed. How? He softly knocked on the door. You didn't have the energy right now. You didn't have the bravery right now. "Please talk to me, Y/N." The room went silent as he paused. You refused to move. "Y/N," He continued. "I know this is scary. I'm scared, too. Please, let me in so we can talk. Or maybe just a hug?" Your face felt hot again. And your chest ached. You buried your face in your knees, feeling them slowly begin to grow warm and wet. Wally's voice turned gentle as he leaned into the door. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm right here." A quiet moment rolled by, then the doorknob turned. But it stopped halfway. You had locked it. Staring at the doorknob, you finally meekly unlocked it before shying away from the doorway and hid your face.

Light poured into the dark room as Wally opened the door. "Wally, is Y/N okay?" Julie called out. Hushed voices filled the hallway and into the bedroom from the living room. Wally stared at you for a moment longer before turning back to the hallway.

"I'm going to talk to Y/N for a bit, okay? Everything's going to be okay." He smiled as Julie mumbled an "okay" and he quietly closed the door. The room was engulfed in darkness once more. "Y/N," the small yellow puppet walked forward and crouched down in an attempt to see your down-turned face. "Oh, Y/N. Dearest Y/N." His felt hand reached up to brush the hair out of your face. "Can you talk to me?" You remained silent, barely glancing at his face before looking away. That's when you felt him push your legs away from your torso and crawl into your lap. You gasped and looked at him, but by the time you saw his face, it was buried in your chest, his arms lay limp at his sides. What was he doing? His monotone robotic laughter echoed through the room. "I don't know how to hug." His eyes looked up into yours as his smile widened and his would-be eyebrows furrowed. "Could you show me?" The ache in your chest was too painful. Too much.

And you broke. You don't know how long it was when you finally stopped crying and loosened your hold on him. You don't know how long it was when he finally spoke up after your quiet restrained sobs stopped. "It's okay. I'm right here." He brushed the tears from your cheeks. He didn't like that his hands were getting wet and your tears would soak deep into his felt and stuffing inside, but he could make a small exception for you. You needed the comfort, and as somebody that you're going to be forced to live with until they can go back to Home, it's the least he could do. You were just as scared as he was. So, for now, he could be the braver one.

You looked into his eyes. Despite them being fake, they felt so comforting to look at. The dark black pools that sucked away the light that shined on them felt familiar. You had seen those same dark eyes in many of your stuffed plushies growing up. You had seen those same dark eyes in the teddy bear your great grandmother gave you when you were little. You hugged Wally close one last time, being more careful to not accidentally hurt the little puppet. "Do they even get hurt?" You brushed the thought to the side. Things are going to be okay. So you took in one last long breath, and wiped your eyes. A smile fell on your face as you looked back down to him. His eyes feel so alive. He is alive. He's just like you. You gently pulled him off your lap and stood up and reached for the door. The doorknob felt so cold. The hushed voices continued on the other side of the door. Your stomach churned again.

"It's okay." Wally watched you carefully. His small hand grasped yours and he squeezed. His favorite thing to do, it seemed. "I'm right here with you. You don't have to be scared."

So you took that final leap, and opened the door. Eyes were instantly on the two of you the moment light seeped into the room. Julie was on the couch with Eddie, the short puppet with a star/sun shaped head, and the large blue dog you hadn’t met yet attempting to comfort her. Frank was busy reading another book, but occasionally glancing at Julie, his furrowed brows raising and his frown twitching down a smidge every time he did. Poppy and Howdy were talking to one another closely a bit away from everyone else. Everyone looked to you. Things were quiet. The air was heavy.

Then Julie hopped up from her spot on the couch and ran over. "Y/N!!" She hugged your legs and buried her face. "I'm so so sorry!! I thought if we did a party, everything would be okay and everyone would be happy but you weren't and you ran away and we were all so worried for you and I'M SO SORRY!" She wailed into the side of your pants as she gripped you tighter, apologizing over and over and over. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. So you bent down to her level instead and hugged her close. She really was worried. You found yourself glancing at the others. All of them were.

When Julie's rambling seemed to continue (how in all goodness was she not out of breath yet?) you took it as a sign to interrupt her.

"It's okay, Julie. You're right. I'm scared, too. I was so overwhelmed when I came back that I wanted to run away again. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't even know how you all can even exist here!" You chuckled as you pulled away to look her in the face. Your voice was shaky and quiet, but she could hear you. And she did. Her eyes sparkled. Just as always. Your vision began to go blurry again, and your face felt hot. "I've been trying to avoid you guys all day! When I got done with work and school, I went to the library instead. I was too scared. But I had to come home. I had to face everything. I had to face you guys, and I was too scared to go through with it." You wiped your eyes. Everything was crushing in on you again. Julie touched your arm. You're not alone. She's here. Wally's here. Everyone's here. "But I'm going to be brave now."

Her smile grew, and her eyes sparkled more. How is that even possible? Her arms quickly wrapped around you. Everything felt lighter now. The tension was still there, but things weren't caving in on you anymore. "This is going to take a long while to get used to."

Julie spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Then I'll be brave with you."

The rest of the night blurred by. You finally were able to be formally introduced to the final three you hadn’t met this morning. The blue dog is Barnaby, a jokester who loves to make people laugh and have a good time himself. The tall green one with multiple limbs is Howdy, a bodega shop owner that’s named his place the “Bugdega.” And lastly, the little yellow star being indeed a star puppet named Sally. All she wanted to do was be a metaphorical star.

The baked goods that Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and Julie made were...sweeter than anything you had really ever had, and each was decorated in colorful frosting (even the things that didn't need frosting). Barnaby did his best act with the props he could find in your house, and while he got everyone else to laugh, you didn't. So, he made it his mission to get you to laugh. The rest of the night, he made various jokes and acts, and eventually he heard it. A giggle. A laugh. Finally, you were doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from your eyes as he laughed with you. A few games were played while the others tried to keep Julie from making any of them too complicated, complaining that they didn't understand any of it. Mistakes were made, rules were broken, laughter was shared, and people (specifically Eddie) tripped and stumbled throughout the entirety of it.

Finally, the lights were turned way down low as you all grouped on the couch. Eddie had taken the job of directing the lights with a special hand-made spotlight, and Julie and Wally worked to keep the special effects going. As Sally acted her play, confetti acting as flower petals were thrown, backgrounds were occasionally changed during Sally's monologues, and they occasionally acted as extras in the background. You never got to see how it ended. Sally was in another one of her monologues when you found your eyelids getting heavy and the person next to you being extremely comfy.

A soft blanket wrapped around you as with two arms. Sally's voice faded further and further away as you leaned into the person. And with one last quiet sigh, you let the sweet appeal of sleep consume you.

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deathbxnny · 1 year

Note

hiiii !! thank you so much for doing my doctor s/o request, i liked it sm but i'm too anxious to thank you in comments, haha.. (´･ᴗ･ ` )

so !! do you mind if i make another request ?? okay so! an artist s/o with hsr characters who likes to draw them. i'm thinking of a little cute scenario, like y'know, it's some important date for character and s/o and s/o gives them their sketchbook which filled with drawings of them?? as a present? like s/o loved to sketch them every chance they get (´• ω •`) i don't know if i explained my request well...

AH. could you include sampo, haha...please? i love this silly man sm ~

don't forget to stay hydrated!! eat and sleep well !!!! thank you again for doing my last request! (⌒▽⌒)♡

-----♡

A/N: Hello again, Anon! Thank you for the request! I find your ideas so cute! Also thank you for the kind reminders!<33

Featured characters: Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan

Content: Artist reader, established relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread!))

-----♡

》Sampo Koski

He loves your art alot and supports you as much as he can. He likes watching you draw/paint too, mainly because he finds how focused and serious you look during it super cute. Is definitely the type to keep any drawing you give him, even a small doodle.

With that said, he notices whenever you draw him. He never tells you this however and just always conveniently stays in the same spot for you, even if that means that he can't move for a while. He doesn't mind though and finds it adorable that you want to draw him of all people.

It was Sampo's birthday, when he finally was able to catch a glimpse of the drawings you were making of him. He was grateful for your gift and promised to cherish it. It was the first time he ever looked so serious and vulnerable, which made you very happy.

He carries the notebook with him often now, so that whenever he misses you, he can just take a look at what your beautiful hands made for him and feel better.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

He fully supports your Artist career and makes sure everyone in Belobog appreciates it too. He's just so unbelievably proud and always tells you how talented you are all the time. Definitely also spoils you with any art supplies you might need.

He never notices when you draw him, mainly because he's always busy with work during it or just very tired. Thankfully he doesn't move much when he's working on paperwork in his office or resting in the house, so that gives you plenty of opportunities to draw him in secret.

You gave him the little notebook full of drawings of himself on your anniversary as a couple. He was quite surprised at how full it was and even laughed lightly at how he just never noticed. He kisses you hands, thanking you deeply for this beautiful and meaningful gift.

He keeps the notebook with him whilst he's out on the front lines, mainly for when he misses you and to remind himself of what he can come home too soon.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Supports your passion with everything he has and shows it off to absolutely everyone. People just have to know how talented and great the general's s/o is afterall! He'll take care of any art supplies or other needs you have, he just finds how excited you get over new paint or pencils so cute.

It's alot harder to hide it from him, that you're drawing him, because he just notices everything about you. He finds it adorable and amusing, when you hide your notebook from him and tell him that he can't see it yet.

He's still pleasantly surprised, when you give him the notebook to him as a gift for a gift giving festival. Jing Yuan is extremely thankful and makes sure you know it with sweet praise and endearings.

He keeps the notebook at his desk in his office, so that he can look at it and think of you during longer work days. He perhaps also uses it to justify slacking off for a couple moments.

-----♡

A/N: Thank you again for this Anon! I hope you liked it!<33

#honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr sampo #hsr sampo x reader #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr gepard #hsr gepard x reader

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moonlitarcticfoxnebula · 11 days

Note

Hi I've been watching WOY and I was wondering if you had any ideas or headcanons for Commander Peepers?

Hello! While I have thought about this a little bit, I actually came up with some new ones thinking about this some more, and it was pretty fun! Anyways, without further ado (drumroll, please), here are some headcanons/ideas for Commander Peepers:

Coffee: I'm sure this one's pretty common, but I think that Peepers more often than not will drink his coffee black for the bitterness and caffeine but quite enjoys drinking sweeter coffees (like lattes and cappuccinos) and will sometimes allow himself to drink one for enjoyment.

I think that it is a possibility that Peepers initially joined Hater in order to use his power and eventually subvert him. But... he ended up getting attached.

I think that Peepers is actually rather feared/respected by the other Watchdogs, and this especially so because Peepers has a lot of control and power within the Skullship and system of operations, organizing most things within the ship.

This is pretty much canon, but I'm pretty sure Wander helped Hater and Peepers build (or rebuild) their friendship. Especially because Peepers seemed genuinely fearful of Hater and the fact that Hater could use his power against him but slowly grows more comfortable around Lord Hater and more confident in his ability to deal with him.

This one is very random, but I feel like Peepers might not be the best artist but certainly respects art to a certain degree (though there are still styles that he looks down on, like abstract art and cubism).

I think Peepers lacks the skill to draw well but can definitely doodle. I think he probably doodles occasionally while dealing with paper work, though he does the unthinkable and does it on a separate piece of paper (after all, he can't mess with the documents and look irresponsible or childish or any great number of things)

This one's also pretty much canon (The Brainstorm), but Peepers is really good at making and editing videos, even if just for a presentation that the person watching won't appreciate (Lord Hater). Still, he puts a lot of time and effort into it and ends up being really proud of them. (once Andy finds out and gains the confidence, he will definitely beg Peepers to edit one of his videos (just one!) with all due credit)

Also practically canon, but he really does respect Sylvia and considers her a rival, still relating to her as a generally level-headed fellow who has to deal with a childish friend

This ended up being kind of long, but I hope you like the response! Definitely feel free to ask more things. (*^▽^*)

#woy #wander over yonder #peepers #woy peepers #commander peepers #peepers hc #ask #and #answer #(★‿★)

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beoneofus · 1 year

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 | 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬

unedited

let's start off with the fact that these boys would never think about picking flowers, let alone wearing flower crowns. david got a bouquet for you once, and it was only because you were upset. he couldn't let you be sad, and he knew you loved flowers... so two and two led to four. dwayne has looked at them, and thought about gifting you them, but never really got around to it because of his pride of doing it in front of others. paul is just an airhead and doesn't really think about such things. and marko, well... he usually presses and scrapbooks them - the dead ones, anyway.

when you brought up that you wanted to do something new, the boys immediately thought sexual. let's be real, if anyone mentions that and they have a dirty mind, that's what they're gonna think. it made your face light aflame - but you instantly shut them down, waving your hands frantically and shushing their laughter.

“ s’not funny! you guys should know that's not what I meant! ”

pouting. cute, cute pouting. but of course, you quickly recover once paul goes to pinch your cheek. you swat him away, and shuffle out of of the room to fetch your latest creation.

once you're back, a grin on your face, you present the blue, yellow and green masterpiece to them. It took a lot of hard work, including the decision of which flowers to use, so you were very proud of it.

you never thought marko would burst straight into laughter though. of course, all the boys would tease you, it was fun-picking. they also had their own taste, so it was understandable if they didn't like certain things. but this? this was your pride and joy, given you didn't think you had many talents. since it was so successful, it made you very happy.

though, marko laughing and calling it childish really hurt your feelings. he was usually really patient and treated you with lots of care, including your emotions. but he didn't seem to take those into consideration when he pointed and said some pretty mean words.

“ marko, knock it off, man. ” paul slapped the back of his arm over the blondes chest, proving he wasn't messing around. he was the one who first saw the hurt flash through your eyes, and now he meant business. “ what? ” marko jeered, actually taken back. he didn't think what he said was a big deal. “ I'm just sayin’ it's girly! ”

quite frankly, it wasn't. girliness didn't exist in your mind. neither did the separation of genders; it was just stupid. paul thought the same, which is why he huffed and stepped forward, taking ahold of your hands.

rubbing his thumbs over your pinkies in small circles, he reassured you he liked it. david had shot marko a glare, and dwayne hit him on the back of his head. although you very still sensitive to the insults, you very much appreciated the others sticking up for you and comforting you. that's why you smiled to paul, and raised the crown up in suggestion.

“ make one with me. ”

paul was dumb founded at first, given he's never done such a thing. he wasn't real crafty like marko was, and well... he didn't think he had many talents. dwayne could skateboard, david could manipulate people no problem, marko had animals by his side no matter what and could master any art skill. but paul? he got high, ate, had stupid thoughts he voiced out loud, and sometimes doodled dumb shit for the hell if it. sure, he could pull off flips and shit when he felt like it.. but was that really a talent?

at first he wanted to wave you off, bit after seeing the hope in your eyes he couldn't. but, that wasn't all.

he accepted the offer, but also invited the others to tag along.

the whole thing left them bamboozled, and a bit of an argument broke out. after you begged though, and made a little deal with david, you five headed outside and to the little field of flowers not too far from the bluffs.

upon arrival, paul dragged you off to immediately collect different flowers. he was excited to spend time with you, and for you to show him how to make the flower crowns.

you two found a spot to sit, and he got to work on picking colors he liked. of course he chose red, but also orange and a nice purple. he didn't know the names of the flowers, but you informed him they were chrysanthemum's, begonia's and clematis’. they were very pretty together, and you informed him so.

paul had trouble weaving them together, given the stems were sensitive, but you showed him to go slow and take his time. It took a bit of help, but he eventually got the hang of it. you congratulated him for it, and complimented him the rest of thw way through. if paul had a tail, it'd probably be wagging at full speed right about now.

you... might've totally forgotten about the others, on accident. too busy helping paul and enjoying you guys’ time, everything else managed to slip past you. It wasn't until you heard the rustling of dwayne's leather jacket did you actually look up, away from the processing flower crown.

he held a finished product in his hands, made of yellow tulips and purple belle flowers. that took you off guard because you didn't know dwayne knew how to do such a thing. once he saw the surprised look on your face though, he quietly informed you he was watching from afar and taught himself.

a grin and compliments were given to his hard work. he smiled back, only to sit down beside you and set his masterpiece upon your head.

“ you look beautiful, darling. ”

it took everything in you not to cover your face. dwayne was quite the charmer and he always had that effect on you. so, bashfully, you turned away; going back to your weaving with puffed cheeks.

“ hey! how the hell do you twist this shit together?! ”

you'd all look over, only to see marko and david struggling. after sharing brief looks, the three of you best into laughter.

that night was a quite fun to say the least. david couldn't get it no matter how hard he tried, and marko surprisingly took longer than paul with figuring out the right hand movements. all in all, you couldn't wait to do something like that again!

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #tlb 1987 #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #lost boys headcanons #lost boys 1987 #david the lost boys x reader

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 1 year

Note

I feel like I'm kinda late but I was hoping if I could request 'drawing' with Leviathan for the Soulmate Valentine Event? ^^

-🍁

Levi - Drawing

Levi x GN! reader

Prompt: Whatever you draw on your skin shows up on the other's.

AN: Hi, 🍁 anon! You weren't late, so you're all good! I hope you enjoy this! :)

Warnings: None

The light from the giant aquarium cast an opalescent glow through the room as Levi jotted down notes from one of his online classes. Though he wasn’t retaining any of the information as his brain kept roaming back to how much he was missing you throughout the school day.

Through a couple of anime inspired doodles on the back of his hand, the two of you had discovered that you were soulmates as those same doodles showed up on yours. At first, Levi freaked out, rambling on about how someone like him could never be your soulmate. But through lots of reassurance that you were more than happy to have him as your other half, he’s come to embrace your connection.

One thing will never change though- he’s still so easily flustered by you.

The otaku sighed as he finished up his notes and moved his mouse, clicking to the discussion board. Bringing his hands to the keyboard, his eyes swept over a few of his classmates’ responses and was about to add his thoughts, when his attention shifted a little below the monitor.

His eyes locked onto the dark lines tracing along the pale skin of his hand. He watched as tiny designs took shape. Only they weren't designs- they were words.

‘Proud of u, Leviachan! TSL and pizza 2nite?’

Levi blushed in the dark of his room, hiding his face behind the hand that held no writing. He stared at the small message for what felt like hours, rereading your words of encouragement. You were too cute for your own good…

Quickly, he grabbed a pen and started to respond with a message on his palm.

‘Thnks, looking 4ward 2 it!’

He studied his hand as he contemplated writing more. What else was there to say? Maybe you needed some encouragement too, so Levi mustered up all the courage he could and wrote one last thing.

‘Luv u.’

#valentine's soulmate event #🍁 anon #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me x reader #obey me levi x mc #obey me x mc #obey me reader insert #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #jo writes #blood moon mail

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heartofspells · 6 months

Text

Tuesday Snip Snip

For not other reason than the fact that I want to share this.

Tagging: @tracingpatternswrites @spikybanana @maybebabyplease

Harry is seated against the wall, knees drawn up towards his chest, wedged just behind the door. He's got a piece of paper pressed on top of a book, a pencil scribbling doodles over the surface, his head bowed. The boy shrugs one shoulder, not instantly responding.

Crouching down in front of him, Sirius cranes his neck, peering at the drawings.

"What're you making?"

Green eyes half-hidden behind glasses flicker up to Sirius' face before dropping again.

"Treasure map," he mumbles.

"Ah," breathes Sirius, shifting around until he's beside his godson. "What's the treasure?"

Harry glances at him from the corner of his eye, his head dipping further over the paper, his scribbles increasing.

"Mum wouldn't let me have any of the biscuits she made earlier for after dinner," says Harry, voice lowering to a near whisper, like he's sharing the most precious of secrets. "So, I took the whole tin and hid it."

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sirius tries his best not to laugh. A small hiccup escapes before he can rein it in, and Harry's shoulders relax a little.

"I see." Sirius pauses for a second before his eyebrows lift high on his forehead. "Hang on a tick, you're not only punishing your mum by nicking them. Those were meant for me, too!"

"I'm going to give her the map so she's got a chance to find them," says Harry, sounding unconcerned.

"And if she doesn't? You gonna share the hiding place with me?" questions Sirius, titling his head down, trying to catch the boy's gaze.

Harry looks up at him, silently evaluating, his eyebrows pinching together with deep consideration.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Sirius mimes locking his lips together, swearing himself to secrecy. His godson's reaction is slow but worth the wait, his grin spreading and stretching, green eyes crinkling in their corners. Leaning closer, Sirius tugs his wand free, tapping the tip to the piece of paper. He mumbles a spell, all of Harry's carefully placed details vanishing from sight.

"What did you do?" cries Harry, immediately upset, but Sirius holds his finger to his lips when a furious and accusing green gaze pins on him, silently quieting his godson.

Touching his wand to the paper again, Sirius says clearly, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." The map reappears, and Harry blinks at it in wonder. "Give her a bit of an extra challenge, eh?"

"Wow," breathes Harry, and Sirius chuckles, arm draping over the boy's shoulders as they sit together in the shadow of the still open door.

"You never did tell me why you're hiding here," broaches Sirius after a little while as Harry continues working on his map.

Harry scowls at the paper. "Mum and Dad were talking," he mutters. One of his lines digs in deeper than necessary, nearly tearing the page. "That's all they ever do now is talk. Talk, talk, talk. And they always make me leave."

Arm tightening around his godson's shoulders, Sirius looks up, gaze travelling the space, coming to rest on the firmly closed kitchen door a distance away where he can hear muffled voices. Sirius isn't surprised that it had finally come to this, the separation of his friends, something he'd known for years they'd probably been hurtling towards all while they'd ignored it. And it's not as though he'd wanted or hoped for it, because he hadn't, no matter what others might believe of him, at least those that know some semblance of the truth.

Lily and James together had been a stunning thing, beauty written out in stanzas like poetry. In so many ways, they'd been right, a wholesome duo, that power couple all others try desperately to compete with and always seem to fail. And Sirius had backed them from day one, stood tall and proud at their wedding, at least to outwardly watching eyes. If James was happy, if Lily was happy, then Sirius had convinced himself to be happy for them, to forever support their choices in life because he loves them both. He hadn't wanted this.

He'd wanted this even less for Harry. His parents divided, no longer living under the same roof, constantly falling into arguments that have likely grown and spread for years. The only life he'd ever known is now gone, leaving him hurt and confused, masking it with anger and blame towards the one person who remains the closest, his mother always around like a waiting punching bag, Lily taking it with all the graceful, resilient stride born into her, trying her very best not to rock her son's boat more than it already has been.

"That's boring stuff," says Sirius, clearing his throat as Harry's pencil pauses on his paper. "Adults like me, like your mum and dad, we've all got a penchant for doing that, have you noticed? We talk about things you've got no interest in. You don't want to be part of that, do you? Even I find it dull and I'm an adult!"

Scowling down at his drawing, Harry's hand begins to move again, creating carefully dotted lines through a cleverly crafted jungle that was once his home. His expression remains dark, mouth tugging down deeply at the corners, shoulders unforgiving beneath Sirius' arm.

"They're fighting," he utters in a foul tone. His head lifts, blazing green eyes burning into Sirius' face, accusing and incriminating. "They make me leave because they start fighting and they don't want me to hear it. But I still hear it. They're doing it now."

Silence falls between them, other sounds meeting their ears, the muffled voices behind the kitchen door no longer soft but loud. James' voice rumbles, nearly vibrating the floor, Lily's higher pitched and furious. Harry tenses and jolts at a particularly explosive shout, Sirius following suit alongside him.

"Hm," hums Sirius. "Yeah, I can see that now." Shifting beside Harry, Sirius tilts his head back against the wall, licking over the backs of his teeth. "Well, Haz, there's nothing for it, really," he says, his own voice rising, carrying outwards. "Your parents sometimes forget they're not children any longer, but maybe they should stop acting like giant bleeding yobs and remember that not only do they have company invited into their house, but they also have a wonderful son listening to every single horrendously immature word they're lobbing at one another."

The voices in the kitchen die quickly, the embarrassment permeating from behind the closed door palpable. Harry looks up at Sirius in the quiet that descends, Sirius quirking an easy smile when his eyes flicker to his godson, who practically beams at him.

#prongsfoot epic #(not an epic)#snippet #sirius and harry #my writing #holli writes

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moonchildreads · 7 months

Text

small town

Chapter 23 - Cum on Feel the Noize

IN THIS CHAPTER: Yearbook messages, unlikely friendships, and Corroded Coffin puts on a show [13.8k]

WARNINGS: mentions of dead parents (eddie's mom), child neglect (not very graphic, eddie as kid), underaged drinking (no one gets drunk), low self-worth

A/N: i know. i promise you, i know. but i did say i was never gonna abandon this fic, so if you didn't believe me, that's on you, buddy. blame my job for my two month absence - three new people joined my team and one of those left last week, it's been hectic. this is an extra long chapter as a sorry for making you wait for so long. i hope you are all okay and still interested in my dumb little story, we have a lot more to go before we say goodbye. <3 (btw lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

Girls, rock your boys We’ll get wild, wild, wild

Monday, June 9th - 1986

The last Monday before graduation was Kyle Foster’s most anticipated day of the year; not because it meant that school attendance was officially an afterthought for most of the school’s population, but because it was the day the overpriced yearbooks he had been working on all these months were ready to be picked up, their pages waiting to be filled with doodles in colorful pens and silly stickers. He was particularly proud of this year’s edition, with its green leatherette hardback cover and bright photos printed in glossy paper, everything on them carefully arranged by the Yearbook Club with evident care and love for their craft. For a few hours, Kyle got to feel like he was hot shit. Teachers congratulated him and his fellow club members for their wonderful work, people he’d never talked to before in his life asked him to sign their yearbooks, and the basketball team kept patting his back in the hallways in between classes to thank him for the double spread with pictures of them lifting their championship trophy. Life was good, but even though he was enjoying his surely short-lived popularity, there was only one person Kyle was particularly looking forward to seeing. As faith would have it, he found that exact guy leaning against his locker waiting for him between third and fourth period, a yearbook under his arm and a piece of minty gum in his mouth.

“Hey, man,” Eddie greeted, pulling him into a bro-ey side hug that didn’t suit his personality in the slightest. “Nice work.”

“What’s up, Munson? Heard you’re finally leaving this place.”

“Yeah, about damn time,” the tall metalhead laughed, and Kyle thought he’d never seen him carry himself with such levity before. “Wanted to thank you, y’know? I mean, I know I kinda bribed you to do it but you came through for us and went above and beyond with the design and everything, so, thank you.”

“Ah, it was nothing, dude. Couldn’t ruin the yearbook by giving your club a shitty spread,” Kyle downplayed his work, but they both knew he had enjoyed the secret assignment.

“Well, then. Would the artist care to sign his masterpiece?” Eddie joked, extending his yearbook to Kyle with a jet black pen tucked into it.

Kyle nodded, surprised by the request, and went straight to the blank pages at the back. From what he could see, no one had signed it yet. He realized then this was Eddie giving him a definitive olive branch, whatever feud they’d had over his little debt more than ready to be buried in the sand and thoroughly forgotten. He quickly penned a generic “have a good summer!” message at the top corner, slowing down while writing his name when he felt Eddie’s hand slip something into his front jean pocket. Ah, there it is, Kyle thought, smiling to himself as the weight of the small weed baggie Eddie had promised in exchange for his rule breaking could be felt through the rough fabric. He gave the book back to his newest acquaintance before opening his messenger bag and retrieving his own, shocking Eddie with his silent offering. Kyle was not only accepting his olive branch but returning the gesture, and so Eddie signed his name in a little unoccupied corner, adding a smiley face with devil horns under it for good measure.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Foster,” he said genuinely, tucking his trusty pen into his back pocket.

“Likewise, Munson.”

“We look so fucking badass,” Gareth said, eyes stuck to himself holding a knight’s helmet under his arm in the Hellfire section of the yearbook.

“I know, right?” Jeff said, giddy. “Kinda wanna get it framed. You think they’ll give us copies if we ask?”

The Hellfire Club was enjoying a peaceful lunch outside, the day still perfectly warm despite the constant clouds that perpetually obscured the sky over Hawkins, Indiana. The older boys were doodling on each other’s yearbooks, laughing about bad portraits and accidental funny faces belonging to classmates, while Dustin and Mike quietly muttered to one another at the head of the picnic table. They looked like they were arguing about something important but no one else seemed to have noticed - if they did, they were giving them space to resolve it on their own. Pretending like she wasn’t eavesdropping while she wrote a heartfelt message in Donny’s yearbook, Dottie listened carefully, worried about Dustin who seemed to be particularly distraught at Mike’s disinterest in cooperating with him.

“I’m just saying, aren’t you tired of acting like you’re still upset with him?” Dustin asked.

“I’m not acting, I am pissed off,” Mike huffed. “I don’t get why you aren’t. He cut us off and he’s never coming back, get it through your head.”

“Well, maybe he feels like we cut him off. Have you even tried talking to him since Spring break?”

“No, why would I?”

“Mike,” Dustin was nearing his breaking point.

“What? Did you?”

“Yes!” he threw his hands in the air. “I called him the next day because I’m not an asshole!”

“If you talked to him, why isn’t he here then, huh?” Mike asked, icy. “Why is he still hanging out with them?”

“I said I called him, not that I talked to him,” Dustin grumbled. “He wasn’t home, he… he was at a party with the jocks- Look, all I’m saying is that I feel like shit, okay? I think we’re all being idiots right now and we should talk about it. This is just like what happened when we found El and-”

“This is nothing like what happened with El. He was just scared-”

“We were twelve, Mike. We didn’t know what we were doing, maybe- maybe he was right and we should have been scared! And maybe he shouldn’t have to be the one to always apologize first!”

“He ditched us!”

“Oh, grow up,” Dustin said, getting up from the bench with his yearbook in hand and hurrying to catch up with a redheaded girl who looked about his age.

Dottie watched how Mike gathered his things and disappeared into the cafeteria without saying goodbye, giving off moody teenager vibes to anyone who dared to cross his path. Meanwhile, Dustin was now animatedly chatting with his mystery friend near the doors - the girl he was talking to was signing his book and rolling her eyes at something he was saying, a shy but still clearly fond smile on her face. Dottie felt like she’d seen her before somewhere, but never talking to Dustin. She seemed nice, if a little sassy. I guess that’s why she’s friends with Dustin, she thought.

“Really? You got him a sweater? In June?” Jeff’s laughter brought back her attention to the table: she quickly doodled a little daisy next to her name at the bottom of her message and gave the yearbook back to Donny.

“He’s always wearing sweaters at the office, okay? And also, it’s not like he’s gonna grow two sizes before Winter starts,” Gareth defended himself. “It’s still gonna fit him in a couple of months.”

“What are we talking about?” Dottie asked, leaning her head onto Eddie’s shoulder as he stole one of her apple slices.

“Father’s Day. Gareth got his Dad a wool sweater.”

“It was on sale!”

“What did you get for your dad, then?” she asked Jeff.

“New slippers. His old ones were falling apart.”

“Very thoughtful. You?” she turned to Donny.

“Nothing yet. I kinda wanna get my Dad a funny shirt but I haven’t seen any good ones around. D’you think it’s too late to get one printed?” he asked at large.

“Oh, Eddie bought a cute one the other day!” Dottie said conversationally, looking up at the long haired boy from her place on his shoulder. “They had a bunch of graphic shirts at that store near Melvald’s, right?”

“On Mulberry? Sweet, what did you get?” Donny asked, munching on some grapes.

“Found this ugly thing with a brown Care Bear at the front that says World’s Best Grandma,” Eddie said, half a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Thought it was funny.”

“You’re gonna get your teeth kicked in if you wear a Care Bears shirt in public, dude,” Gareth snickered.

“Well, good thing I’m not gonna be the one wearing it then.”

Father’s Day was historically somewhat of a weird day for Eddie. When he was a little kid and still hadn’t developed a mouth filter, other moms at the park or strangers at a store would sometimes see him wandering around unsupervised, think he was lost, and ask him where his Mom was; he’d always reply with a simple “oh, no, my Mom is dead”, like the answer wasn’t absolutely devastating to hear coming from someone who hadn’t learned how to tie his own shoes yet. Like clockwork, they’d all sputter out an awkward apology, feeling sorry about unknowingly asking a young child about something so painful like losing a parent at such a tender age. A couple of times some of them went so far as to offer to buy him a snack, as if that could distract him from the tragedy of his Mom’s untimely death and, in turn, make themselves feel better about being nosy. Eddie, however, didn’t mind the questions. He liked telling people that Maureen was dead, because he learned very quickly that those were the only times people saw him as someone to take care of; just a little innocent boy having to grow up without the woman who’d loved him most, instead of shunning him as soon they inevitably found out he was Wyatt Munson’s devil spawn.

Another thing Eddie learned very early on, was that his Dad didn’t care about Father’s Day, mainly because most of the time he didn’t even care to acknowledge he had a son unless it was useful to him. And so, after the second year in a row Wyatt threw into the trash can the crafts Eddie had done for him at school without so much as looking at them, the drawings stayed in his backpack and the treats the teachers gave to all their kiddos to gift to the most important men in their lives got hidden in an old shoe box underneath his bed. There they waited until the older man passed out on his couch with a beer in his hand, and the littlest Munson got to eat them in secret without anyone calling him a pig for smearing chocolate all over his face and fingers. No, Father’s Day had always been a weird day for Eddie - at least until he moved in with Wayne.

The first Father’s Day Wayne and Eddie spent together came after almost eight months of living together. There had been a Halloween, a Thanksgiving, a Christmas, Eddie’s 9th birthday, and a Mother’s Day spent along with Grandma before that, but Eddie’s little stomach still churned with the thought of Wayne dismissing him on a special occasion like Father’s Day. He quietly waited in bed after the sun rose, ears perked up for any noise coming from the living room but the minutes ticked by and Wayne didn’t get up, busy catching up on some much needed sleep after a long week at the plant. The youngest Munson impatiently crept along the hallway until he reached his Uncle’s side, kneeling on the carpet next to his fold-out bed and observing his chest go up and down with each breath he took.

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie whispered, but the older man didn’t so much as flinch. “Uncle Wayne,” he tried a little louder, softly shaking his arm.

“Huh?” Wayne opened his eyes, startled to find his nephew’s tiny fingers wrapped around his forearm. “What’s going on? You okay, Ed?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, wild curls bobbing along with the movement. “I- I made something. At school.”

“Yeah? What d’you got there?”

Eddie lifted a piece of paper, the sun filtering through the moth-eaten curtains helping Wayne read along. Happy Father’s Day, said the handmade card written by a teacher and decorated by his nephew, each letter colored inside with a different crayon. Wayne’s heart sank when he realized he’d forgotten what day it was. He didn’t even know which hole Wyatt was currently being kept in, but he guessed he could call his Ma and ask her about it if Eddie wanted to pay his Dad a visit. Or at the very least, he could take the kid to the post office to mail his shitty excuse of a father a letter he most likely didn’t give a damn about. Wyatt hadn’t called once since he’d gotten himself locked up, and Wayne tried not to think too much about Eddie stiffening up whenever the phone rang when he first moved into the trailer with him. He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to have jackshit to do with his little brother anymore but he’d do it anyway even if he knew it was a bad idea, because Wayne Munson would have walked barefoot to the end of the world if it made Eddie happy, and God only knew that that boy deserved a small mercy for once.

Wayne peeled the card open curiously and felt his chest tighten up when he saw how wrong he’d been. Inside there was a crude drawing of two figures, one bigger than the other one: it was him and Eddie, standing on bright green grass, a big yellow sun with a smiley face at the upper left corner of the page, and a tree with juicy red apples to the right side. The figures were holding hands and Wayne was wearing a trucker hat - the same blue one that was resting on the kitchen counter next to his keys. At the bottom right of the card, written with the nicest calligraphy Wayne had seen from his nephew yet, was a simple I love you in purple crayon.

“You drew this for me?” Wayne asked, trying to get his emotions together.

“D’you like it? Miss Mullins gave us Hershey’s Kisses too,” he lifted a little paper bag that looked like it had been squished in transit. “I’m sorry I ate one without asking. I wanted to know what they tasted like, but I can buy you more! I have money left over from my birthday-”

“That’s okay, Ed. You can have as many as you want if you brush your teeth after,” the eldest Munson sat up tiredly and pulled his boy from the floor into a hug. “Thank you for the card. You’re very good at drawing, y’know that?”

“Miss Mullins says I’m good at art and music,” Eddie beamed. “And sometimes Math too but I get distracted. She says my reading’s not very good though.”

“You’re a smart boy, just keep practicin’ and you’ll get better,” Wayne said, feeling his nephew’s body sink into his arms the longer he held him. “Hey, how ‘bout you go get ready while I take a shower, huh? We can go get pancakes at Benny’s.”

“Really? Can I get whipped cream on mine? And chocolate chips?”

“You can get whatever you want, boy. Go on, go get dressed,” the older man ushered him down the hallway towards what used to be his bedroom and locked himself in the bathroom for a little privacy.

Wayne cried in the shower that day, much like he’d done after Thanksgiving dinner, when Eddie said he was thankful he got to live with him, even if it was just for a little bit. He got Wyatt to sign away his parental rights before Christmas came around after that. Wayne stuck the card to the fridge door with a carrot shaped magnet and drove himself and his nephew to Benny’s where Eddie ordered chocolate chip banana pancakes that Wayne ended up eating half of after the 9-year-old’s tummy became too full to keep going. Upon returning home, they spent the rest of the day watching cartoons and practicing Eddie’s reading during the commercials. When the littlest Munson fell asleep on the couch after the sun had set, his energy finally depleted, Wayne helped him put on his pajamas and tucked him to bed, stopping to kiss his curly head before he retreated back to the living room for a nightcap.

“Good night, son,” he’d said, turning off the lights, and for once, Eddie didn’t go to sleep wishing he was Wayne’s, because he knew he was and Wayne knew it too.

“You got Wayne a World’s Best Grandma shirt for Father’s Day?” Donny said, amused. “He’s gonna think you knocked someone up.”

“Of course not,” Eddie scoffed at him like he’d just said the stupidest thing ever. “He’d think I knocked someone up if it said World’s Best Grandpa, but it doesn’t say that, does it? Therefore, funny shirt.”

“You were there with him and you let him buy it?” Jeff looked at Dottie, whose cheeks felt like they were burning upon remembering Wayne’s resigned attempt at a Birds and The Bees talk two weekends prior.

“I… I thought it was funny too,” she admitted sheepishly.

“You two are spending way too much time together,” Gareth shook his head. “When did you even go shopping?”

“Last week after band practice,” Dottie said, mischief in her eyes. “Don’t tell my Dad if you see him because I told him I was at yours all afternoon so he wouldn’t snoop around and find his gift.”

“What did you get him?” Donny asked.

“A bunch of candy and a book. The guy at the store recommended it, he said it was pretty new. It’s called Ender’s Game, I think?”

“Oh, I read that one,” Jeff said, frowning.

“What, is it bad?”

“No, I think your Dad might like it," he shrugged. "But you know me, I don't like military shit.”

“How could we forget about you being Mr. Pacifist,” Gareth poked fun at him goodnaturedly and Jeff shoved him gently in return.

“Hey, speaking of band practice,” Eddie said, lips curling upwards as he leaned into Dottie’s personal space. “You think your Dad's gonna let you come to The Hideout tomorrow?”

“On a school night? Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, come on, no one’s even taking attendance anymore,” he pressed on.

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Russell took a nap in class today,” Gareth said, spreading a rumor he’d heard about the old Algebra teacher.

“He did. I was there, I heard him snore,” Donny nodded.

“There you go, darling. Not even the teachers give a shit anymore. So, what do you say?" Eddie batted his eyelashes dramatically.

"You know I wanna go, I just don't think he's gonna let me. Can't you wait one more week? He promised I won’t have a curfew anymore after graduation," she bargained.

"You say that like you don’t already know we’re gonna ask you to come next week too," Gareth said, grinning. “Besides, what kind of manager are you if you don’t come to all our shows?”

“Wasn’t aware I had signed any official contracts. Do I get health insurance?” Dottie joked.

“You get one box of kiddie bandages and we’ll drive you to the hospital if and only if any bones stick out,” Donny said.

“Wow, what a deal. I’m in,” she laughed.

“You’re gonna come then?” they all looked at her expectantly.

“Alright, fine, I’ll ask him. But if he says no you aren’t allowed to be mad at me because it’s definitely not my fault,” she finally relented.

“If he locks you up we’ll help you escape the tower, princess, don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, his breath ghosting the side of her head, and she shivered in anticipation for the new adventure that was to come.

James working past the time Hawkins High School let its students out had proven to be heaven-sent to the new couple looking for places to hang out without any prying eyes around. Eddie and Dottie were lying on her bed, hiding away from the world in her room, the radio on at a low volume playing Top 40 hits. Van Halen’s Why Can’t This Be Love was setting the perfect mood for Eddie to kiss his not-yet-girlfriend stupid - their movements still shy and exploring, neither of them rushing to get ahead of themselves. In recent days, they had progressed from chaste and giggly pecks to something much more slow and romantic, making the most of their moments alone to make each other feel comfortable and loved. Eddie hovered over her, tummy pressed against Dottie’s while supporting most of his weight on his elbows, his hands free to gently caress her cheekbones and jaw between kisses, stopping every so often to look at her dazed smile if only to will himself to believe that the girl he was so in love with was as equally smitten with him as he was with her.

Dottie let her fingers wander up his arms, one of her hands tangling in his unruly hair and occasionally pushing stray curls behind his ears to get a glimpse of those deep chocolate colored eyes she adored so much. Her other arm sneaked into his t-shirt sleeve, nails drawing barely-there patterns on the back of his shoulder, making him hum like the stray cats at the trailer park when they let him pet them after being fed. The delicate white curtains swayed calmly, brushing against the pillows in the windowsill, the gentle breeze outside rustling the leaves in nearby trees. Everything felt so peaceful, warm, and cozy. She felt like she could spend an entire lifetime like this, with the boy that had swept her off her feet so thoroughly that she almost felt like she was floating whenever he was around.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Eddie asked in a soft voice, index finger brushing down the slope of her nose.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Mhm,” she smiled, fondly. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous even,” he lifted his eyebrows and pouted, making her giggle at his antics. “I wanted to play a song for you tomorrow but the guys said it didn’t fit with the rest of the setlist.”

“Which song was it?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, curls tickling her. “I’m not telling you. We’ll play it in Indy.”

“I have to wait a whole month? That’s so rude!”

“It’ll be worth it, you’ll see,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss her again, and she accepted his love eagerly.

The low rumble of a car pulling into the driveway burst their cozy bubble, Eddie groaning as his head fell forward onto Dottie’s shoulder, making her snort loudly. He scrambled off her bed and dropped himself on her desk chair, fingers dancing on top of her scented Mr. Sketch markers before settling on the brown one and lifting it up to his nose to smell the cinnamon embedded in the ink. She watched him with an oddly enamored smile on her face, like him sniffing her stationery supplies was the most charming thing she’d seen him do yet. He twirled a marker between his fingers before drumming with it once on her yearbook resting unassumingly on her desk.

“Can I draw something for you in here?” he asked, tapping the hardcover again with the cap of the marker.

“Can I write something sappy in yours in exchange?”

“Knock yourself out, darling,” Eddie smiled, pulling his yearbook out of his ratty backpack and tossing it onto her bed where it made a soft thud upon colliding with her comforter.

When James climbed up the stairs to greet his daughter after a long day at work, he found both teens deeply engrossed in their tasks: Eddie’s long hair was draped like a curtain obscuring his sketch from view as he worked steadily with his chewed up pencil while Dottie was lying on her front decorating a corner of a page with her colorful pens. James leaned onto the door frame when she looked up, gifting him the same smile she used to give him as a toddler when he picked her up from daycare.

“Yearbooks are out?” the eldest Burke asked, nodding towards the book in her hands.

“Yeah! Ed’s drawing in mine but look, we got a full page!” Dottie said, rising onto her knees to show him Hellfire’s spread.

James sat at the foot of her bed, glancing at the glossy pictures in front of him. He couldn’t recall Dottie being so excited about a yearbook before, but he supposed she’d never really been a part of any club at her old school and this was an important first for her. There was Dustin front and center, arms and legs bent like a lifeless puppet being held by strings, Erica’s hand poised in the air as if she was the one controlling him while Mike and Gareth lifted her up in a princess-like manner, a tiara glinting on her head and a school flag draping down her back. Jeff and Donny scowled at each other dramatically, engaged in a lethal fight that Jeff was clearly winning, his sword pressed to the middle of Donny’s golden scepter. But it was his own daughter and the boy that kept smelling markers before he put them to paper a few feet away from him that really caught his attention.

Eddie lounged on his throne with a fake skull in his hand, rings twinkling in the room’s moody light, and legs spread out like he was a despot king about to order someone’s head to be cut off. Dottie stared at the camera with a mischievous smirk, hands cradled around a crystal orb, looking like she knew something no one else did and was more than ready to drop a cryptic riddle that would ruin your entire life. They were playing characters, just like everyone else in the picture: Mike was the loyal knight, Dustin was the terrifying jester, Erica was the bratty princess. Except Eddie’s arm was curled around Dottie like she was his most prized possession, devotion noticeable in his seemingly innocent posture. He might have been the one sitting on the throne and she on the chair’s arm as his trusty advisor, but it was very much clear to anyone that stopped to truly look at them that even though he was the King, she had him wrapped around her finger. It shouldn’t have been a surprise - after all, since 1953 the song did say God save the Queen, not the King.

“It looks super cool, right?” Dottie asked, eyes shining. “Jeff wants to ask the Yearbook Club if we can get copies, I’d love to put one on my corkboard.”

“That sounds great, honey! It’s very theatrical,” James agreed, scanning down the list of names: Edward Munson - Chapter Leader, Donatello Andrea Vitale - Treasurer, Jeffrey Thomas Patton - Secretary… “Who’s Lucas?”

“Huh?”

“Lucas Charles Sinclair?” he asked. “His name is on the list but I don’t see him in the photo.”

“Oh, that’s Erica’s brother. He was in the club before I joined, right, Ed?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, lips tight. “He, uh- he quit before Spring break. Conflicting schedules.”

“Ah, that’s a bummer,” James nodded, knowing first hand how scheduling was the greatest enemy of a D&D party. “Why isn’t Erica on the list though?”

“She’s still in middle school so she’s not, like, entirely allowed to be in the club actually?” Dottie grimaced. “But Eddie thought she should at least be in the picture. I mean, I’m there and she’s known these guys for longer than I do.”

“She only joined a couple of weeks before you did,” Eddie shrugged. “But a member is a member, no matter when they joined.”

“Spoken like a true leader,” James smiled, flipping the pages to find the senior portraits.

He reached the B section and immediately found his daughter, her red knitted sweater barely visible, the picture cutting off just below her shoulders. She was smiling in it, yes, but she didn’t really look happy. She seemed nervous, perhaps even a bit apprehensive. Her eyes were dull despite the bright lights behind the camera, and the little dimple below the right corner of her lip that she’d inherited from her Mom was nowhere to be found. In comparison with the wicked witch that had been staring at him in the Hellfire Club’s group photo, this girl looked like a shell of herself. Empty. Lost. Scared. Two months had passed between the two pictures, and one more since the last one had been taken, and James realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her glow as much as she did every day now. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked at her and wondered why he hadn’t done anything to prevent her light from dimming so much right in front of him. Bitterly, he realized the proper question wasn’t why he hadn’t done anything, but instead why hadn’t he ever noticed it had been dimmed in the first place up until that moment.

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” he muttered, pulling her into a hug and letting out a heavy sigh courtesy of his own inadequacies as a parent.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you? Because you’re gonna make me cry if you cry,” she said in a joking manner, tears already threatening to climb up to the surface.

“You’re just really big now and it sneaks up on me sometimes, that’s all. I’m getting emotional in my old age,” he laughed, turning back the pages to Hellfire Dottie - the happier Dottie. “Your hair looks really pretty like this.”

“Yeah. Feels more me, I think,” Dottie agreed. “I need to get the ends trimmed before graduation, though.”

“If it keeps getting shorter I’m afraid you’re gonna end up bald soon.”

“I’ll go to a salon this time, promise,” she laughed.

“Still can’t believe you just-” James did a cutting gesture with his index and middle fingers. “-went to town on it.”

“Wait, what? You chopped off your own hair? When?” Eddie asked curiously, reminding them both that he was listening to their conversation.

“I thought you knew about this!” Dottie said. “I had really long hair back in New York.”

“It reached the top of her jeans,” James added.

“No way! Why did you cut it?”

“I just needed a fresh start, y’know? New school, new haircut. It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she shrugged.

“Honey, you snipped it all off at the first gas station we stopped at on our way from New York. Almost gave me a heart attack when you came out of that bathroom.”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie stared at her in disbelief.

“Nope,” said James. “Had to take her to a hairdresser to even it out as soon as we got here.”

“In my defense, it didn’t look that bad. It was just… very layered,” Dottie said.

“You’re lucky you chickened out and didn’t cut it shorter or you’d be looking like a boy right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, I’m not a hair stylist. I’ll stay away from scissors and let the pros handle it next time,” she rolled her eyes at her Dad.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a shower,” James announced, returning Eddie’s yearbook to his daughter. “You staying for dinner, Ed?”

“No, thank you, sir, Wayne’s waiting for me. Just gotta finish this drawing and I’ll be out of your hair for the night,” Eddie said, lifting the book in his hands as if to demonstrate he wasn’t just wasting time.

“You’re never a bother, kid. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

“T-thank you, sir,” he said in a small voice when James walked past him and ruffled his hair affectionately as he left.

“Dad? Wait, hold up-”

Dottie launched herself into the hallway and caught up to her Dad when he was halfway through his bedroom door. She nervously looked up at him and James lifted an eyebrow, curious.

“Would it be okay if I went to The Hideout to see the guys play tomorrow?” she asked, chewing on her own lip.

“Honey, it’s a school night-”

“I know but the teachers aren’t even taking attendance anymore. And I swear I’m not gonna skip the next day! Please, I’ll be back before midnight.”

“Dot-”

“You know Jeff’s dad wouldn’t let him do it if he was coming back home at 3 am every week on school nights. Please let me go? I really, really, really wanna see them play.”

“Would you be riding with Eddie?” James sighed.

“Yeah, he’s Gareth’s ride. His drum kit doesn’t fit in Donny’s car.”

“Okay, you can go-”

“Thank you!”

“-but! You gotta be back by midnight, okay?” he said, stern. “I don’t care if the teachers aren’t doing their jobs anymore, school’s not out until Friday. You’re not on holiday yet.”

“I know, I won’t break the curfew, I promise-”

“And you can’t drink any alcohol either. If I have to pick you up from the station for any reason, you’re grounded until September.”

“I won’t drink a drop, Dad, I swear. I just wanna see the guys play,” she pleaded with doe eyes.

“Fine. You can go,” James finally relented.

“Thank you!” Dottie shrieked, hugging her Dad and shaking him in her excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

“Alright, alright, calm down. Just be careful, okay? And call-”

“Call you if anything happens. I know. Thank you,” she kissed his cheek and ran back into her bedroom where James heard Eddie scream “fuck yeah!”, followed by a loud thump and bright laughter.

That night after dinner, Dottie sat on her windowsill looking at the inside of her wardrobe, mentally putting together an outfit that wouldn’t make her stand out like a sore thumb in the dingy bar. Jeans and sneakers are fine, Eddie had said when she asked him about it, but she knew the guys dressed up for their gigs, and she wanted to fit in. Maybe she should have asked her soon-to-be-boyfriend to lend her one of his band t-shirts, but then again, Eddie had a tendency to get grabby whenever she wore his clothes lately, even if it was just a borrowed sweatshirt when she got cold during a movie night. It was better to be lowkey about this; they were already pushing it a lot lately with the secret daily hangouts and the doing errands together thing. Borrowing his clothes in such a public event like his own band’s gig was as big a declaration of love as they came.

Yes, it was best to keep this under wraps, for the sake of all their friendships with the rest of the boys. She’d wear her own clothes to her very first Corroded Coffin show, and she’d be extra careful with her yearbook when she gave it to her friends at The Weekly Streak to sign. No one had to know that Eddie had drawn a very realistic looking arrangement of daisies on a corner of a page, along with an incredibly telling message that would be hard to explain if anyone read it. However, nothing was stopping her from letting the words he’d written in his usual chicken scratch form behind her eyelids as she let sleep take her under, a perpetual lovesick smile tattooed on her face.Thank you for believing in me, darling, he’d said. I love you now and always. Your Endearing Eddie.

Tuesday, June 10th - 1986

If there was anyone in Hawkins who had bad timing when it came to scheduling business transactions that happened outdoors, it was Eddie Munson. He was in such a hurry to sell most of his stash before he was due to start his first ever real job at Thatcher Tires the following week that he’d failed to account for the permanent drizzle that haunted Hawkins most of the time, and thus, had to move from his preferred selling spot in the woods to the back of the East classroom wing, his back pressed to the warm brick to shield himself from the droplets falling from the sky.

While he was busy earning much wanted cash so he could take his still-not-official-girlfriend out on a date to celebrate their graduation, Dottie and Gareth were lounging in his van, side door cracked open to let some of the day’s heat out. The almost empty parking lot looked menacing surrounded by a thick haze, a moderate breeze directing the drops of water to hit the van’s windshield in a comforting rhythm. Gareth was, as usual, being a menace. He was going through Eddie’s tapes, exchanging their cases to mess with his friend, and never letting a song reach the end before he was skipping forward to the next one. Dottie would have complained about it if she wasn’t so concentrated on her knitting, the summer baby blanket she was working on spread out over her legs. She was in the middle of calculating if the soft cotton yarn she had left was enough to finish the row she was currently knitting when Gareth turned around in the passenger seat to catch her attention.

“You excited about tonight?” he asked, glancing at the songlist at the back of a mixtape.

“Yeah, it should be fun! Though I’m not sure what I’m gonna wear yet,” she put down her needles and stretched in her seat. “Eddie said sneakers and jeans were fine, but I don’t wanna look lost, y’know.”

“Pick the oldest, shittiest clothes you have and you’ll fit in just fine. Most of the drunks in there go after work, it’s always a lot of plaid, jeans, and dirt.”

“You’re not selling this to me very well.”

“I don’t have to,” he grinned. “Eddie says jump, you jump.”

“No, I don’t-”

“Hey, there you are!”

She was about to tell Gareth off when Chrissy appeared from the mist, shielding herself from the rain by holding her cheer cardigan above her head. Immediately, Dottie slid the van door open a bit more so she could climb in, moving all her knitting supplies to her lap so the strawberry blonde girl could sit next to her. Gareth looked at both girls awkwardly and muttered a quick hello before turning in his seat again and busying himself back with the mixtapes.

“I didn’t know you knitted,” Chrissy said, thumbing the corner of the blanket. “This is so pretty.”

“Thank you,” Dottie smiled. “It’s a gift for my Aunt, she’s having a baby in a couple of months.”

“Aw, that’s sweet! Let me guess, a girl?” she said, pointing at the baby pink yarn.

“How could you tell?” Dottie said with good natured sarcasm. “Her name’s gonna be Rose so… pink for Rosie! It’s not very original but I’m hoping she still likes it even though she’ll be born in the middle of summer.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it. I used mine until I was in preschool, there’s no age limit for a good blankie,” Chrissy said, kindly. “I wish I could do creative stuff like this, it looks fun. I tried to learn to sew when I was younger but my Mom’s so not a good teacher. She made me cry once because I forgot to put the presser foot down.”

“I could teach you a few things if you want,” Dottie offered. “I’m not an expert, but my Aunt is, like, the most perfectionist person on the planet and she taught me everything I know so…”

“You’d do that?”

“Do what, teach you?” the blonde nodded in response. “Of course! We’re friends! And it’s a great skill to have, it comes in handy more than you think.”

“We’re friends?” Chrissy asked, eyes suddenly shiny.

“After everything you’ve done for- Chrissy, of course we’re friends,” Dottie said, grabbing the other girl’s hand.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed out, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. “I feel so much better about asking you to sign my yearbook now, I didn’t know if I was being weird or not.”

“For future reference, we like weird here,” the brunette said in a stage whisper, leaning down to get her own yearbook out of her backpack. “Besides, I kinda wanted to ask you to sign mine too so we’re even.”

The girls exchanged books and quickly got to signing, aware that Gareth was pretending like he wasn’t in the same vehicle as them. He didn’t want to turn up the music and rudely drown their conversation, so he distracted himself by drumming on Eddie’s dashboard with two pens, wondering what on Earth had Chrissy done for Dottie that made her so thankful towards the cheerleader. Dottie grabbed her nicest black pen and found an empty space under Eddie’s message. He’d written Don’t be a stranger, Chrissy the Cheery (and thank you for the advice! See you at the wedding) next to a crude drawing in blue ink of a girl with a ponytail lifting one pompon and doing devil horns with the other hand.

After thinking about what she wanted to say to the cheerful blonde, Dottie settled on a nice simple message that was cryptic enough should anyone else read it, but also something that conveyed just how truly grateful she was for this new found friendship. Have a fantastic summer!, the note opened. Thank you for everything. Call me whenever! At the end, right next to her name and a little daisy, she wrote down her phone number. The word everything was underlined twice. When she gave it back to her rightful owner and saw the message Chrissy had written on pink ink on her yearbook, she let out a girly giggle. It was so lovely to get to know you, have a good summer! Let’s hang out soon, it read. Below, Chrissy had also written down her phone number. Both teens looked at each other with a knowing grin and hugged, not paying any attention to the metalhead who’d put them on each other’s path hopping onto the driver’s seat of his van, hair damp from the rain.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute,” Eddie said, grinning. “Did she sign it?”

“We both did,” Chrissy said, returning the smile. “How were the sales?”

“Great! I’m selling my last bit on Thursday and then I’m keeping the rest for myself. A man’s gotta have his vices.”

“What a shame,” the blonde shook her head. “Hawkins is losing its nicest dealer to the workforce.”

“I’m the only dealer you know, sweetheart.”

“Because you’re the nicest one, keep up! I’m gonna have to buy from sleazy dudes now, ugh,” she said while she gathered her things to leave.

“You should have enough to last you until you leave for your pre-season with what I sold you today,” he frowned, concerned that every time Chrissy bought from him, the amounts she asked for kept increasing.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said and shrugged, sliding the door van open and hopping off. “See you around, guys!”

The three of them watched her jog towards the school with her cardigan draped over her head again, her petite figure losing definition in the haze. Eddie clicked on his seatbelt - a habit he’d picked up since he started driving Dottie around - and pulled out of the school’s parking lot, winking once at the girl on his backseat when he put his hand on Gareth’s headrest to reverse into the open road. Dottie rolled her eyes at him, picking up her knitting needles once again. Gareth stared at the school building until it disappeared from sight before he turned to his friends.

“I still can’t believe Chrissy Cunningham is not only super nice to us freaks, but also smokes weed,” he said, making both of the other teens laugh.

James Burke did not think that moving to the town he had grown up in as a quiet wallflower would result in an exponential growth in his daughter’s social life, but truth be told, he wasn’t exactly upset about it. Before packing up her whole life and facing the Big Drive to Hawkins, Dottie had never once gone out for the night on a weekday, much less during the school year. But James had agreed to it, and Dottie had promised to be home before midnight, which brought them to the living room where the tired father sat in his armchair and amusedly watched his daughter pace the entirety of the room swinging her arms around with each step she took.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the carpet, honey.”

“Good. This carpet gives me allergies.”

James chuckled, following her with his eyes as she padded her way to the window once more and peered outside yet again despite knowing that she would hear Eddie’s van first before seeing it, as per usual. She sighed dramatically and resumed her pacing, glancing at the clock on the wall anxiously. Mildly embarrassed upon noticing that her friends were still perfectly on schedule, she took a few deep breaths and tried to get her emotions in control before their arrival.

“You know you can call me if you get there and want to leave, right?”

“I know, Dad,” she rolled her eyes at him. “Stop offering to pick me up from places, you know Eddie’s gonna drive me back whenever I ask.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t exactly comfort me as much as you think it does, honey. That van looks like it’s gonna die on him at any second.”

“Oh, come on,” Dottie argued. “He loves that van, he takes good care of it.”

“The fumes that come out of that thing say otherwise, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt since he’s gonna be a mechanic and all now.”

And speak of the devil, thought James, as the aforementioned smoky van appeared down the street while playing loud metal music. Dottie hurried to grab her keys and a jacket, ready to bolt out of the door and get to the damn dive bar already, but her Dad insisted on walking with her outside to say hi. Eddie and Gareth waved at them as they approached, lowering the music so they could greet the older man properly.

“Good evening, boys,” James said, hands on his hips in a typical Dad pose but with a friendly smile on his face. “How are we feeling? Excited for the show?”

“Hell yeah!” Gareth said, grinning. “We’re gonna kill it, the setlist is awesome tonight.”

“You let him add an Anthrax song to it, didn’t you?” Dottie laughed knowingly, sliding the side door open and climbing in.

“We’re closing with Metal Thrashing Mad,” Gareth looked at her with an expression of triumph.

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a riot,” James chuckled and turned to his daughter. “Have fun, but don’t get into too much trouble. Midnight, okay?”

“I’ll get back here by 11, sir, I promise,” Eddie said, nodding once.

“Midnight’s okay, Ed,” the eldest Burke said, putting his trust in the young man’s hands; Eddie nodded again in understanding. “Have a good show!”

The man patted the side of the van as a goodbye and headed back inside, privately enjoying how much he could make Eddie squirm with just a few well placed words. He liked Eddie, he really did - he was polite, unapologetically himself, resourceful, kind. He loved his friends and wore his heart on his sleeve. And he loved Dottie, that much was clear to literally everyone that surrounded the teens. James didn’t know what the situation was like between them at the moment, but he could tell something had shifted based on recent interactions he’d witnessed. In his opinion, there seemed to be some sort of deeper connection between them since that fateful party they had gone to just a handful of days earlier, but James had to admit, albeit a little reluctantly, that even though he had been on the lookout for signs of a romantic relationship developing, not a lot had truly changed.

Eddie and Dottie had always been unusually close even upon first meeting, that was an undeniable fact about their friendship. It was hard to pinpoint if anything romantic had blossomed between them when Eddie had been calling her darling since the very first moment he laid eyes on her, or when Dottie gravitated towards him at any given moment, even in rooms filled with other people. Their hugs, while always having lasted longer than a regular friendly hug, were chaste and innocent, their main purpose always to comfort and to reassure. Eddie’s hands always stayed above her waist, not even so much as accidentally dropping to her hips in James’ presence, and any compromising position he’d found them in was at best playful, certainly never inappropriate.

It wasn’t that James was particularly concerned with the nature of the teens’ relationship; after all, he had been a teen himself once, he wasn’t an idiot. If anything was bound to happen, they weren’t going to ask for his permission beforehand. No, his worries were more about the knowledge that Dottie and Eddie dating while having the same group of friends could make a potential fall out incredibly painful for both of them, and the poor man was just desperately trying to protect his daughter as best as he could. He already felt like he had failed her once, he couldn’t let her down again. And yet, despite being cognizant of the dangers ahead, James found himself trusting Eddie because if Dottie trusted him, how could he not trust that his daughter knew better than her own Dad did about the matters of her heart?

“Okay, be honest, guys. How do I look?” Dottie asked, shoving half her body between the front seats so they could look at her better at the first stop sign.

“You look gorgeous, princess,” said Eddie.

“Like a toddler,” said Gareth, at the same time.

“Gareth, what the fuck,” Eddie deadpanned, swatting at his friend’s chest.

“What? She’s lucky they don’t ask for IDs,” he said, doubling down.

“You don’t tell a girl she looks like a toddler when she dresses up, you asshat,” Eddie said. “See, this is why you can’t get a girlfriend, you know nothing about women.”

“How would you know any better, you don’t have a girlfriend either!” Gareth retorted, making Eddie snort. If he only knew…

“You two bicker like an old married couple, did you know that?” Dottie said, settling back on her seat.

“That’s because we are,” Eddie joked, grabbing Gareth’s hand and giving him a kiss on the knuckles, making his friend yank his arm out of his grasp while the older boy laughed loudly.

Everyone was in good spirits as they journeyed to The Hideout, but whether she wanted them to or not, Gareth’s words made Dottie pause. Both boys had told her dark, casual clothes would be okay when she’d asked them for advice, so she’d gone with a striped dark blue and white t-shirt and black jean overalls, her trusty Reeboks matching Eddie’s keeping her feet comfortable. She glanced at both of her friends through the rearview mirror and compared her clothes to theirs, but that would never be a fair fight: they were dressed for the stage, not to be a spectator like she was. Gareth was wearing a loose shirt with the sleeves cut out, leather bracelets with spikes decorating each wrist along with his usual rings perched on his fingers. He had a flannel tied at his hip and his jeans were incredibly distressed, something that his Mom hadn’t been too happy about when she found out he’d ripped them himself on their driveway with a sharp rock. Eddie sat next to him, tapping on the steering wheel lightly as they talked about the setlist, looking like a vision straight out of his wildest rockstar dreams in acid wash denim and chains. Admittedly, his eyeliner did look terribly smudged, but he more than made up for it with enthusiasm and a giddy grin etched permanently into his features.

There was no comparison and there would never be one. Dottie simply didn’t fit in. They were undiscovered rockstars, masters of their craft who had poured blood, sweat and tears into a yet unfulfilled dream, and she was just the high school friend who was lucky enough to meet them before they blew up. She tried to be excited for them, to join in on the fun, but all she could think about was how Eddie was destined for bigger things than to be chained to an elementary school teacher and the white picket fence she had always dreamed of when she was living in a tiny apartment with her Dad back in New York.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Eddie pulled into The Hideout’s parking lot next to Donny’s car, Gareth excitedly hollering out of the co-pilot’s window to get their friends’ attention. Donny took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the side, and hurried to meet them along with Jeff, hugs and pats on their backs exchanged before immediately busying themselves unloading both vehicles. Dottie was quick to mask her discomfort by helping out; a task that forced her to stay focused was always a welcome distraction for her worried brain. The boys chatted loudly, their tired grunts filling the eerily empty parking lot as they moved heavy amps and Gareth’s drum kit into the bar through a service door to the side of the building, leaving Dottie to trail behind them carrying cables and drumsticks.

“Hey, you okay?” Jeff asked, taking a mic stand from her hands, back pressed to the metal service door to keep it open.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m just nervous,” she lied, her smile failing to reach her eyes. “Never been to a place like this before.”

“No one here bites, I promise,” he nudged her shoulder. “And if they do, we’ll fight them for you. You’re with the band, you’re a VIP now.”

“My heroes,” she said, pretending to swoon.

The small exchange might have gone unnoticed had Eddie not become finely attuned to the girl’s emotions even when she wasn’t sharing them out loud. Something wasn’t right, he was sure of it, and he was determined to find out what it was before their set started. He wanted her to enjoy this, to see him doing one of the things he loved most, to let her into a space that up until now had been sacred for him. The Hideout’s little stage wasn’t the Madison Square Garden, but with her in the crowd, he felt like it was the most important show he’d ever play in his entire life.

“I really like your shirt,” Dottie was telling Donny about his Iron Maiden tee, holding his bass for him as he searched for a pedal that had gotten lost in the back of his car. “The black makes your eyes pop out.”

“But I need my eyes,” he whined jokingly.

“You know what I mean, dumbass,” she laughed, softly hitting his leg with her sneaker.

“I was gonna wear something else actually but I couldn’t find it,” he said, frowning at his car’s messy floor. “I have this Halloween shirt- aha!”

“Did you find it?”

“Yep, it was under the mat,” he climbed out of the car and pulled his pants up higher. “My ass wasn’t showing, was it?”

“I would never let you show your ass in public,” Dottie said, giving him back his bass. “We got everything? What do we do now?”

“Yeah, we just need to set up and-”

“Hey man, can you start without us?” Eddie asked, sitting on the back of his open van and patting his pockets for his cigarettes. “Need her help with something.”

“Uh- yeah, sure,” Donny said, looking at both of them suspiciously and noticing how Dottie appeared to be as equally confused as he was. “Don’t take too long.”

Donny hoisted his bass case over his shoulder and disappeared into the building, throwing one last look at them for good measure. While Eddie busied himself lighting up a cig, Dottie shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. What on Earth could Eddie want her help with right now? Was he… was he going to tell her to leave? Had he realized this was no place for her and didn’t want anyone to see she was with them? Or with him?

“Come ‘ere,” Eddie said, widening his legs so she could stand between them. “You gonna tell me what’s going on or do I gotta tickle it out of you?”

“You know I don’t like tickles.”

“Then I guess you’re gonna have to spill, don’t you, princess?” he flicked some of his ash to the side and wrapped an arm around her hips to bring her closer. “What is it, huh? My eyeliner’s that bad you can’t even look at me?”

“No,” she muttered, lips curling into a resigned pout. “You look pretty.”

“I look like shit. People might confuse me with a raccoon.”

“A pretty raccoon,” the right corner of her mouth lifted into a tentative smile and he took that as a win.

“If it’s not my eyeliner, what’s bothering you then? You wanna go home? ‘Cause I’ll drive you back right now if you want me to, just say the word.”

“No, no,” she quickly shook her head, curls bouncing around but her eyes were still stuck to his knees. “I wanna see you play.”

“Baby, I know something’s upsetting you. Talk to me, come on. We’ve been good at that lately,” he pleaded, thumb sneaking into the side of her overalls and under her shirt to rub comforting circles on her skin.

“It’s just-,” Dottie huffed, crossing her arms and curling on herself. “I feel weird, okay? I look like an idiot.”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie frowned.

“Ed, I’m wearing overalls.”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and? You look like a fucking rockstar and I’m some random toddler following you around. I don’t fit in, Gareth’s right.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck Gareth,” she opened her mouth to argue but he beat her to it. “No, no, fuck Gareth. He doesn’t know shit about fashion, never trust anything he says, okay? He used to wear polos every day before he met me, you knew that? He can’t judge anyone. And I love your overalls. You look adorable in them.”

“But I don’t want to look adorable!” Dottie stomped on the ground, which only furthered his point. “You look so badass, why couldn’t I look like that?”

“You wanna look badass? I’ll give you any of my shirts next time, I promise,” Eddie pulled her closer until she uncrossed her arms and rested them on his shoulders. “But don’t listen to that dumbass. I love how you dress. I really fuckin’ do, babe.”

“Yeah? The toddler thing gets you going?” she asked, melting under his earnest eyes.

“Nah, that’s all you, darling,” he stretched himself up to kiss her gently. “You get me going. And you always fit in with me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Nope, come on, you gotta say it.”

“Eddie.”

“I’m waiting,” he sang.

“You’re insufferable sometimes,” she rolled her eyes, but this time her smile was much more genuine. “Fine. I fit in with you.”

“Always.”

“Good,” he took one last drag of his cigarette and threw it away, lifting himself up to close the van doors and direct into the bar. “We’re gonna talk about this later though. I know you’re still thinking about it.”

“It’s scary how much you know me,” she mused, leaning onto his side for courage as they walked to the front door.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t pay attention to you?” he said, opening the door to let her in.

Boyfriend. He had called himself her boyfriend. They hadn’t discussed what they were yet; Eddie was adamant about asking her out properly on Graduation Day but it felt good to hear that he knew what he meant to her. That he wanted the same thing she did, even if her anxious heart got in the way sometimes. Dottie was so sure he’d get bored of her once he realized how truly boring she was, but failed to consider that in all their months together as friends, Eddie had learned to love their differences and cherished them deeply. Why would he want someone who was just like him? He was an idiot in his opinion, he’d hate it if she was equally impulsive, messy and brash as he was. She was soft where he was rough, logical where he was a dreamer, practical where he was ignorant. And in turn Eddie felt capable where she was inexperienced, bold where she was shy, and calm where she was nervous. Two puzzle pieces that are cut the exact same way never fit, and Eddie was confident in the knowledge that they were alike, yet different where it mattered the most. It was just a matter of time until she got to see things like he did, and he’d be damned if he didn’t help her get there faster.

“Dave! What’s up?” Eddie hollered as he approached the bar, a bald man with a bushy beard greeted him with a big smile.

“Hey, Ed! The guys told me the big news, I’m proud of you, kid,” Dave said, putting down his rag and a glass to pat Eddie’s back over the counter. “You brought a new friend today?”

“Thanks, man. Yeah, this is Dottie,” he introduced them. “Dot, Dave, he’s the owner - Dave, Dot. Treat her right, okay? She’s our manager.”

“No shit,” Dave laughed. “How did that happen?”

“I got them a gig in Indy next month and they offered me the job,” Dottie said, slipping onto a bar stool next to Eddie. “We should talk business sometime.”

“That’s my girl,” Eddie beamed, squeezing her hand before walking backwards to the stage. “Give her anything she wants, I’ll cover her tab!”

“So, you’re Eddie’s girl, huh,” Dave said, eyes glinting.

“I guess I am,” Dottie smiled, before her expression dropped in realization. “Could you- We’re not, like- The guys-”

“Secret’s safe with me, doll,” he winked at her. “I knew something was up when Ed started adding ballads to their setlist. Now, what’s your poison? On the house.”

“Would root beer be an acceptable choice?” she asked, cheeks burning under her skin.

“Depends. You want ice cream with it?” he threw his rag over his shoulder.

“I’ll never say no to a little vanilla.”

“Attagirl. I can see why he likes you,” Dave said, and disappeared down the kitchen door in search of a scoop of ice cream.

Dottie turned around in her stool to look at her friends happily setting up for their show, palpable excitement coursing through their veins. Gareth was hunched over his drum kit, tightening and loosening the skin until it was perfect while he heard the story Donny was retelling, Eddie laughing loudly and Jeff cringing while uncoiling a cable. They looked happy, barely controlled energy bouncing around the room much to everyone’s amusement. Two older men sat in a corner of the bar, mugs filled with frothy beer and a bowl of peanuts shared between them - they lifted up their drinks and smiled at her in acknowledgement when she glanced their way. Dave was funny, charming and a little bit kooky, all the right ingredients for a good bartender. He kept Dottie busy by telling her stories about every regular that was in the bar, and introduced her to the two men as “the boys’ boss, so no funny business with her”. Rudy and B.B. ate it up, calling her bosslady in all further interactions, asking her about their friendship with Corroded Coffin and telling her silly stories they had collected about her friends over their years as The Hideout’s only band with a permanent slot.

It was clear to Dottie that this was a family built on routine and comradery. They had nicknames for each other, knew about beverage preferences and medical conditions, asked about parents, wives and children. B.B. was all too glad to have someone new to show off the pictures he kept in his wallet, his five grandchildren looking up at Dot from the glossy paper as he shared names and little anecdotes about them proudly. When it was time for Corroded Coffin to finally start playing, everyone paid attention and even cheered when the first few notes of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid began. Dottie sang along to every single word that came out of Jeff’s mic, thinking about that very first time she’d seen them play in Gareth’s garage. This felt equally warm, homey, and handcrafted. A labor of love.

Corroded Coffin was a sight that begged to be seen. They were loud and unapologetic; they crooned to the outcasts, the freaks, the weirdos. Lee with his prosthetic leg and handlebar mustache, Rudy with his white hair and beer belly, Shonda with her leather vest and scary-looking motorbike parked outside. These drunkards were their very first fans, and they enjoyed the Tuesday night gig as much as anyone could enjoy first row seats to a Metallica show in a big arena. During a water break between songs, Lee asked for a Judas Priest song and the boys indulged him, Gareth immediately launching into a complex beat that made him break one of his drumsticks in half at the end. He looked the happiest Dottie had ever seen him.

The half hour show came to a close, and Corroded Coffin said their goodbyes with pure elation and sweat dripping down their faces. Dottie wanted to help them load everything back into the cars, but Shonda kept her busy and glued to her stool talking about New York and the best food places she had encountered on her travels. If Dottie recognized some of the mentioned spots as known queer hangouts she’d always wanted to go to but couldn’t because she was underage, she said nothing, but the knowledge only endeared the older lady more to her. When the guys had finished putting everything away, they surrounded Dottie at the bar and Dave presented them with a beer each. Yes, it was illegal to serve alcohol to minors, but no one cared. They’d earned those fair and square, and what was the big issue with a little toast between friends to the Hellfire Class of ‘86 who would be graduating in just a few short days?

“Since when do you go dry after a show, Ed?” Dave said, grabbing the bottle Eddie had pushed back into his hand.

“I’m driving her around tonight,” Eddie said, nodding towards Dottie who was lost in conversation with Jeff. “Her Dad might kill me if we get pulled over and I’m drunk, and I actually like being alive.”

“She’s got you whipped,” B.B. commented, making the rest of the older men laugh while Eddie’s ears burned red at the light teasing.

“Good for her. Someone had to do it at some point,” Rudy said, lifting his frothy beer to his lips, and truth be told, Eddie was more than happy to admit they were right.

Dottie was not expecting Eddie to pull over halfway between her house and Gareth’s after dropping him and his drum kit off, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t about to let her go to bed without talking about what had happened earlier. He was still a little jittery from the show, adrenaline starting to run off now that they were surrounded by the quiet of the night in a deserted street, truly alone for the first time all day. After reaching to click her seatbelt off, he helped her crawl sideways onto his lap, resting her weight half on him and half on the driver’s door, legs draped over the center console and stretching towards the co-pilot’s seat. Despite the fact that he’d just played a 30 minute set and still felt a little bit damp with sweat from his performance, he took the time to bask in the sense of calm that washed over him. This is the best part of my day, he thought, lazily pressing kisses to the side of her head as she played with his rings, a dazed smile on her face.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he whispered, pushing her hair behind her ear and making her squirm in delight when he pressed another kiss to her temple.

“I love you too. You’re my favorite rockstar,” she muttered back, nosing his cheek.

“You had a good time?”

“The best. Everyone was so nice.”

“They better be,” he said dramatically, lifting his hand into a menacing fist. “Or else I’d have to kill them.”

“Stop,” she laughed, arms wrapping around him. “I’m sorry if I worried you earlier. I was being silly and got too into my own head.”

“You gonna tell me what that was about? And don’t say it was about your overalls, because I know it wasn’t,” he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles gently.

“I don’t know, I guess… I was just thinking about the future, and-”

“Uh-oh. Is this it? Are you breaking up with me? Shit, I knew that old dog Rudy was gonna take you away from me.”

“Shut up,” Dottie slapped his chest lightly as she laughed and he pretended to be in excruciating pain, slumping against his seat. “I… I was just wondering if there’s gonna be a place for me, y’know? In your future? And I got upset thinking that maybe there wouldn’t be.”

“Why would you think that?” Eddie asked, uncharacteristically serious.

“I mean… I dunno,” she admitted. “You’re gonna be a huge rockstar and I’m just, like… your boring high school sweetheart that wants to become a teacher. Is that really what you want for your life?”

“Yes. I want you.”

“Eddie, I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, me too,” his hand came up to hold her face. “I’m not gonna become a rockstar, Dot. That ship sailed a long time ago.”

“You’re only twenty-”

“It’s not about my age. Jeff’s leaving Hawkins and he’s gonna be a fancy businessman with a- a fuckin’ pacifist non-profit org or whatever people do in West Virginia,” she snorted at his words and he continued. “Gareth’s probably gonna become the greatest studio percussionist in the world for all we know, and Donny has his family’s restaurant to take care of. We’re all going separate ways, and I don’t wanna do the rockstar thing without them. Like, that’s my band, y’know? I’m not gonna go solo, it’s all of us or no one.”

“I get that, I do but… I just don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams,” she admitted. “You’re gonna resent me if you do, and I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that you are unhappy and you hate me.”

“I could never hate you and I’m not giving up on anything because of you, darling, I promise. Is it really that hard to believe that I want a normal, peaceful life with you?” he shrugged.

“But you hate normal.”

“No, I don’t. I thought I did but… I can’t be hanging onto a maybe forever, babe. I can’t do that to Wayne. I want to help him out, have a good job so I can pay for things around the house, move out before I turn 30. Give him back his goddamn bedroom, for fuck’s sake,” Eddie scoffed bitterly, thinking about his poor Uncle’s back after years of sleeping on that shitty fold-out bed. “I want to make his life easier. He deserves that much.”

“But you could help him out even more if you became a rockstar. You could- you could buy him a big house, and he wouldn’t have to work anymore, he could just retire,” Dottie pressed on. “Didn’t you want to get out of Hawkins? Travel the world?”

“Yeah, but I think I’d miss you too much if I was away on the road all the time. I’m already suffering about you going to Michigan and that’s only three hours away. I can’t get on a tour bus and not see you for eight months, you know I’ll die if you don’t kiss me regularly,” he joked.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be right there with you on the tour bus if you asked?” she joked back but her voice was so, so earnest.

“Darling, I could never do that to you. I could never ask you to give up on a full ride scholarship for me, fuck. You earned that shit, you have to go and get your degree so I can brag about how smart you are to everyone I talk to.”

“But who’s gonna keep the groupies away from you if I’m not there?” she whispered dramatically.

“I’ll chase them out, let the guys have all of them. Got the best and only groupie I need right here,” he squeezed her to make the remnants of her insecurities go away before kissing her forehead.

“I’m not a groupie though, I’m your manager,” Dottie reminded him. “I’ll have you know, Dave and I are gonna discuss business soon.”

“Yeah? You gonna look out for us? Read all our contracts before we sign them?” Eddie played along, smirking up at her.

“I’ll get you moved from Tuesdays to Thursdays, you’ll see.”

“God, you’re so hot when you know what you want.”

“Eddie!”

“What, my girl is the smartest manager in the world and I can’t find that hot? Fuckin’ sue me then,” he laughed and leaned in to kiss her, feeling incredibly lucky about the fact that she chased his lips for more when he pulled away. “I’m being serious, though. I know you don’t believe me when I say I don’t want that rockstar shit anymore, and this is way too brave of me considering we haven’t even gone on our first official date yet, but… I dunno. I kinda really like the idea of coming back home after a long day at work and getting to hold you like this. I used to think having a normal life was so lame because I never had it and now it’s all I can think about.”

Eddie had told himself throughout his whole childhood that he didn’t want to live like his classmates. He didn’t want to have family dinners every night like they did, because it meant he would have had to eat vegetables like broccoli and carrots instead of whatever unhealthy snack he could make for himself while his Dad was out of the house for the night. He didn’t want to have perfect attendance at school, because he liked whenever he could sleep in until late before “going on an adventure” on Wyatt’s Good Days. He liked spending his summers with his Grandma, stuffing his face full of ice cream and pie, and he liked when Wayne had a few days off from his job as a trucker and returned to Hawkins bringing dumb trinkets he had probably bought at a gas station on his way home, but felt like treasures to the youngest Munson. Eddie had told himself he didn’t want anything more than what he had throughout his childhood, because Wyatt said whining was for pussies and for girls, and his son wasn’t either of those things, are you?

It wasn’t until Eddie moved in with Wayne that he found out he really liked carrots because they were unexpectedly sweet and that he didn’t like grapefruit because it was bitter. He didn’t skip a single day of school for a month and his teacher put a gold star next to his name on the wall. His clothes were now always clean, and he didn’t have to wash ketchup stains in the school’s bathroom anymore to hide them from his Dad because his shirt would be hanging from the clothesline the next day like the offending red splat had never been there in the first place. Eddie thought that living in a real house was bullshit, because he lived in a trailer now and the trailer park was fun. He could feed and pet the strays and go to the playground whenever he wanted, and the people who lived there said hi to him when they saw him collecting flat rocks to skip at the lake when Wayne took him fishing on weekends, and sometimes the old lady next door would give him a bite of watermelon if he asked nicely.

But now Eddie was 20, and he wasn’t scared of admitting he wanted more. He wanted a water heater that didn’t randomly die on him, and a bedroom without mold stains, and Wayne to have the privacy he so very much deserved after 12 years of sleeping in the living room. He wanted a garage like Gareth’s, a backyard like Jeff’s, and a loud but loving family like Donny’s. And whenever he thought about those things lately, he always ended up dreaming about lying on a big comfy couch after a hot shower with his sleepy girlfriend pressed to his side and the decadent smell of a roast cooking away in the oven. No rush, no worries. Just love.

“I think about it too,” Dottie said quietly, jostling him out of his cozy fantasy.

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

“I never had a house until we moved here, I’ve always lived in small apartments before. And it’s not like that’s a bad thing, because it isn’t! I’m really grateful I always had a roof over my head. But I used to dream a lot about having a house like my grandparents when I was younger, and… I don’t know. When I think about it now you are there too. I know, I know it’s a lot, we haven’t even, like, talked about-”

“No, no, that-,” Eddie said, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in his chest. “That sounds really nice, darling. Tell me more? About our future house?”

“Well… it changes all the time. When I see something I like, I add it so it’s always different,” she said, cheeks warm at his soft gaze. “Like, it didn’t have a front porch until I met you, but now I know I definitely want one.”

“Why did you add a porch when you met me?”

“Because you have one! I love it when we sit outside when it’s rainy, it feels really peaceful. And also I think it’s really cute that Wayne waits for you there sometimes. I… I kinda wanna do that.”

“You wanna wait for me to come home on our front porch?” Eddie asked, grip tightening around her waist.

“Mhm,” she buried her head on his neck, closing her eyes like she could see themselves in the future. “We should get a swing, I can make cushions for it. And plant fruit trees in the backyard.”

“We could set up the basement to host D&D nights,” he continued. “And a dog. We should definitely get a dog.”

“Yes. A big dog.”

“A big black dog, and we can name him Ozzy,” he smiled.

“Aw, I wanted to name him Bilbo,” she pouted.

“You can’t name a black dog Bilbo, that’s a name for a brown dog,” Eddie argued.

“We can have two dogs then, one black and one brown.”

“That’s too much, we need space for the kids.”

“K-kids?” Dottie lifted her head and stared at him like he’d just grown two heads.

“I thought you wanted kids?” he was confused.

“I do, I just… I didn’t think you wanted kids,” she admitted. “And we’re still so young, it feels strange to talk about that.”

“I mean, I definitely don’t want kids right now but maybe in like… five years-”

“Ten,” she said, in a tone that left no room to argue.

“Ten years sounds great. We could have kids in ten years, right? I’m not gonna be a loser by then.”

“Eddie, you’re not a loser,” she frowned.

“Wait until after graduation to make big statements like that, babe.”

“You’re not a loser. You’re the best rockstar mechanic in the world and Ozzy, the kids and I love you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, wiping his face with his hand. “Princess, you can’t shit like that or I’m gonna ask you to marry me before our first date.”

“Ed?” Dottie said nervously; his hand fell from his face to her thighs and he looked at her. “Are we… are we moving too fast? We haven’t even been on a real date and we’re already talking about, like, marriage and living together-”

“We’re just goofin’ around, babe,” he said, grabbing her hand. “We don’t have to do anything until we’re ready. You gotta go to Michigan first and get your degree, and I have to move out of Wayne’s, we have time. I’m just, uh, putting my cards on the table early so you can yell at me if I start being stupid. That alright with you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s alright with me,” she smiled back at him.

“Besides, everyone at The Hideout knows you’re my girl now. That’s bigger than marriage - if we break up they’ll take your side.”

“Am I?”

“Huh?”

“Am I your girl?” Dottie asked, knowing the answer but still wanting to hear it from his lips.

“You know you are,” he pulled her into a kiss before singing softly. “My girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl… my girl!”

“You’re so silly,” she giggled, noses bumping in the dark.

“But I’m your silly. You’re mine and I’m yours, okay? So no more getting upset at whatever bullshit Gareth says. I’ll kick his ass.”

“It’s not his fault. My brain just hates me sometimes.”

“I’ll fight your brain,” he said, making her giggle again. “You’re It for me, darling. We fit in together. It’s just that easy.”

“Easy,” she repeated.

Eddie had told himself a lot of lies growing up, but the biggest one was that he didn’t want a normal, quiet life, because that was lame and he wasn’t going to conform to the system like everyone else did. He understood now that maybe, just maybe, having the most regular, happy, love-filled life he could get with his high school sweetheart turned elementary school teacher and a big black dog named Ozzy, in a house with a swing on the front porch, enough rooms for children that didn’t exist yet, and a basement where he could DM as many campaigns as he could think of, would probably be the biggest act of defiance he could do in the eyes of a town who thought he would never be deserving of the common luxuries everyone else got to have without having to fight for them.

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