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shinyasahalo · 2 years

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Ml thoughts (7/15/22)

It would be better to do a sequel series of the next generation than to have Miraculous Ladybug be extended for 12 seasons.

7 seasons was the plan, and extending that for the sake a profit is going to be bad for the story.

It's like how The Hobbit should have been one movie, but they forced it to be three.

Also, Miraculous Ladybug is different to me than other cartoons because I don't want the characters to be stuck at 14-15 forever.

I think Zag should acknowledge that much of their fanbase has aged, and they should release Teen rated books or comics.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ml thoughts #Zag Entertainment

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dwelling-in-elysium · 11 months

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when you think the god of war has a thing for your boyfriend but turns out he's actually interested in your boyfriend's mom

#hades game #i did not expect ares to have a thing for nyx but ok #and zag's like you're not entertaining that are u??? and nux is like hmm maybe #dwelling in elysium #thanzag

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munson-blurbs · 9 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.

Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink

WC: 7.1k

Chapter 13/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!

Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no one’s looking. Today, he’s stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.

“I thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,” you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. It’s made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.

Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. “Ah, but the PTA meeting is after school today.” As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend… “Figured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.” He lowers his voice to add, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it. But Wayne’ll be there.” He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you.

You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. “What can I do for ya, Abby?” you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.

“Joshua said that he’s taller than me!” she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and she’s already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.

You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abby’s distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. “Honey, he is taller than you,” you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t havta say it!” she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. It’s one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.

You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. “Well, you can just play somewhere else. And we’re gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.” Time to sing the Good Morning song–again. If the kids didn’t beg for it every day, you would’ve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.

Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie.

“We’re still on for Saturday?” you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzo’s. It’s a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.

He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, though you’re not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Y-Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I can’t wait.”

At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom that’s serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that it’s Ms. Marion’s room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harris’s artwork. You find it easily; it’s the best in the class. It’s a drawing based on the saying, ‘March is in like a lion and out like a lamb,’ and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. He’s drawn a zig-zag line under the lion’s pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambs’ bodies. He’s also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lion’s says “ROR!!!” and the lamb bleats “BAAA.”

Will’s gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what you’re staring at. “He’s a talented kid,” he remarks. “We gotta have him sign something now so we can say ‘we knew him when.’”

You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. You’ll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.

Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.

“How’s your day going, Wayne?” You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. He’s wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.

Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, it’s the equivalent of a beaming smile. “Can’t complain. Didn’t get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitter’s.” He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. “Well, new to him. That stuff’s gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.” He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. “Jeez, ‘m old. I remember buyin’ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.”

More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.

“Welcome, everyone,” she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so let’s get to it!” She’s far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. It’s an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; there’s a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.

“Oh, Ed’s gonna love that,” Wayne leans in and whispers to you. “He’ll probably be more excited than Harris.” He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.

The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.

You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: “What is there to be ready for? It’s kindergarten, Jesus Christ.” and you have to stifle a laugh.

Linda luckily doesn’t hear his lament. “I’m opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.” Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. It’s precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room.

“Yes, I have a question.” Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. “What is the school’s policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic and…otherwise?” Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that she’s enjoying this. “Because, to me,” she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, “it just seems completely unprofessional.”

The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.

You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayne’s eyes on the back of your head, as though he’s silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that he’s doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.

At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. “Ms. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.” Sue Sinclair’s expression is stoic, unreadable, and you’re not sure whether she’s angry at you or Carol. How would she know it’s me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and you’re all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carol’s little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he softly reassures you. “I don’t think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isn’t in your class anymore.”

“I-I know.” But Frankie is, which means I’ll have to face Carol every day, I’ll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.

Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. “Darlin’, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s no one’s business who you’re with.” He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. “I gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.” He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.

Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they don’t know about you and Eddie yet, you’re confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why.

Eddie’s hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your number–his favorite seven digit combination in the world–and beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, “hello?”, he’s practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.

“Babe, guess what?” He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.

“What’s up?”

He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. “I applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?” He hears your soft “mhm,” before proceeding. “And I got it! Ash just told me now!” He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. “Eddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkins’ wildest dreams!”

There’s a pause on your end of the line before you reply. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.”

Though there’s still an air of something Eddie can’t quite identify, it’s woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. “Now we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzo’s.”

Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. “Um, about that…” you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you don’t hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, “maybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?”

His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just been a long week.”

It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesn’t believe you, but he needs to get to Wayne’s and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. “I really wanted to take you out, show you off, y’know?” He clears his throat, scrambling for words. “We can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.”

“Mmkay,” you mumble, and Eddie hopes he’s not just imagining the smile in your voice. “I’ll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.”

He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home?

I shouldn’t have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson.

Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayne’s, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. He’s suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a pool–well, maybe not a pool; he’s not making that much money–but definitely space for Harris to run around and play.

And in this fantasy world he’s created, you’re standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a World’s Best Mom mug–possibly the only mug Wayne doesn’t already have nailed to the trailer wall–made just the way you like it. You’re laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.

He’d sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck–

“That’s amazing, Ed!” Wayne claps a hand on his nephew’s back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. “You talk to your girl yet?”

“First person I called.” My girl. The first person I called was my girl. She’s my girl and I’m her man–

“Good.” Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. “She could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.”

Eddie’s brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. “What are you talking about?” he asks before calling out his son’s name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didn’t result in a lesson learned.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Weren’t you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?

Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddie’s face falls with each word. “She seemed real shook up,” he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. “I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.”

Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. “Yeah, no, ‘s fine.” He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. It’s not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising.

What worries Eddie is why you didn’t tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didn’t want to be seen at Enzo’s with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?

Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddie’s flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. “It’s pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you lo—”

“Wayne!”

“Fine, fine,” Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. “But you should just talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.” He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. “I know it ain’t been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.”

Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. He’d bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, he’d learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that they’d all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something he’d never had before: safety.

Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. There’s not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even that’s on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, they’d probably leave without taking a thing. “Thanks, Old Man.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harris’s mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasn’t done in years: he kisses the top of Eddie’s head, too. “Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradley’s Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. He’s determined to take you to Enzo’s, and he’d hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.

He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. They’re delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:

“Thought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.”

“My idiot husband came home early,” a woman–Carol Perkins, Eddie realizes–punctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. “But speaking of that meeting–I’ve been meaning to tell you: guess who’s also hooking up?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, “Frankie’s teacher and Eddie Munson.”

“The teacher and the Freak? No way.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. “Didn’t know she was down for that kind of stuff.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Carol huffs, as though she’s not stepping out on her own husband. “But I’m serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billy’s second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. “Love notes? What, is he in high school or something?”

Carol snickers. “Guess he’s making up for all the times he didn’t bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.”

“Looks like he had to go for an import,” Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the man��s ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.

“And a desperate one at that,” she snorts. “I mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?”

“Let’s hope she comes to her senses eventually,” he agrees. “So, is your husband home now…?”

All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.

“Hey! Get back here!” The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. “Eddie Munson. Of course. I should’ve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.”

Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. “No…I didn’t mean…it was an accident…”

The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. He’s a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, “Heard that one before. Prob’ly from you.”

Anger burns in Eddie’s throat, but he swallows it. “Look, let me just pay for these, and I’ll get outta here.” He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.

“Nice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.” His cold hand clasps Eddie’s bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.”

“Shit-shit-shit,” Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the man’s grip. “Y’don’t have to hold me; I’m not gonna run away.”

To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though it’s likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.

He’s taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’s supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that it’s for the 1990 fiscal year, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees.

He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.

Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.

You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detail–Eddie.

You’d expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didn’t show. He would’ve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.

Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash he’ll get from dating his kid’s former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling.

At 7:30, Eddie still hasn’t shown. He’s not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for him—you were too much for him.

You’re about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.

“H-Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances it’s reporting.

You’re caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, “yes” and the line rings twice.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where he’s calling from.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here,” you say, and it’s only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly you’re gripping the receiver. “Why are you in–”

He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. “Long story,” he mumbles. “Can you just come and get me? There’s, uh, no bail or anything.”

“I’ll be right there.” You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. You’re ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that he’s been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.

You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence you’re faking.

“I’m here to pick up Eddie—er, Edward Munson?” His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesn’t quite belong to him.

The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads “P. Callahan.” He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket.

“Hop, is Munson ready to be released?” Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety.

The officer on the other end—Chief Hopper, you presume—confirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face.

You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask once you’re safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.

Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall.

“It’s awful being on the inside,” he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. “You’ve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you and almost got shanked.”

His joke subtly informs you that he’s not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now. “Poor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.”

“It was more like forty-five,” he protests, “and every second counts when it’s spent missing my girl.”

“You’re so full of it, Munson.” My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldn’t complain.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. “Full of longing and devotion!”

“Sshh!” you chastise him lightly through your giggling. “Get in the car, crazy man.”

“Crazy ‘bout you!” Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, he’s resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.

Tell me what happened. Don’t keep any more secrets from me. I won’t judge you or leave you. I’m your girl, remember?

It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question; you don’t get arrested if everything’s okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce.

“‘M good.” He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. “Can we talk about what happened?”

His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. “Not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?” Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isn’t. Stop making me feel like you don’t trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.

“Yup.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.

You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. There’s only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is he’s keeping from you, there’s a reason he hasn’t worked up the courage to say it.

Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. “Where are we—”

“You’ll see.”

Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Can I make my man feel good?” you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.

“Shit, baby,” he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants aren’t as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. “‘S exactly what I need.”

But it isn’t solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didn’t crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak.

You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline.

Eddie’s hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. “Feels—mmf—feels good,” he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, “gonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. “Just wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.”

“Yeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.” He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. “Let me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. “Fine, fine,” you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.”

Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. “Wh…what?” His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion.

“We’ve only been together, like, a month.” It’s too obvious a point to confuse him. There’s no way he really wants a kid with you right now. “We can’t have a baby—”

Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “But that’s not what you said.” You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you can’t immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. “You said that we can’t have people seeing that I knocked you up. Why…why wouldn’t you want people knowing that I…?”

The imagined swell of your belly that he’d hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summer’s heat. You’re tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame you’re carrying along with Eddie Munson’s child.

“I just figured you wouldn’t want people talking about you,” you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harris’s injury. You bring yourself back to the driver’s seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. “You wouldn’t be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that we’d, y’know, have a kid right now…because you already have one, and this is all so new…” You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.

Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. “Why would I be upset? You’re my girl.” Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesn’t move to retrieve it. “You still want to be my girl, right?”

“I still want to be your girl,” you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. “I just don’t want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you can’t even tell me why you were in jail tonight. That’s a pretty big deal, Eds.” There’s a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. “I had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.”

The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. “You’d just told me about your promotion,” you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, “I didn’t want to—”

“So, yesterday? Or today?” he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. “You could’ve called me.”

You could have; you’d certainly considered it more than once, but you didn’t want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. “I thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. You’d think I was too much of a burden.”

“You?” Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. “You think that you’re the burden? That you’re the reason why people are talking about this?” People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesn’t catch it. “Nah, Sweetheart. In the equation of ‘Teacher’ plus ‘Freak,’ you’re hardly the problematic variable.”

“‘Teacher plus Freak?’”

“Teacher,” he says slowly, pointing to you, “Freak.” He brings his forefinger to his own chest. “I’m kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.” He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. “People I care about.”

You’re unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years.

Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. “Tonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That you’d realize you’re too good for me and leave.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.

“Too good for you?” The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Too good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?” You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. “Too good for the man who would do anything for his son?”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, “too good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. Who…who got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradley’s because he’d stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasn’t on purpose.” He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After he’d schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where he’d ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.

You take a sharp breath in. “That’s what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. “Those schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckin’ idiot.” He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until he’s simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. “Thanks.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for crying,” you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. “I want–I need you to be able to show me what you’re feeling.” Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. “Why do we let them get to us?” you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.

“I was thinking about that,” Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. He’ll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows he’ll find it there tomorrow. “Like, I didn’t give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?” He takes a deep breath through his mouth. “And I realized…it’s because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.” He swallows before stroking your cheek. “I want to be enough for you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. “You’re enough, Eddie. You’ve always been enough.” Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.” You immediately worry that you’ve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. “We can still go out to dinner; I just figured…after the night you had…”

He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. “I’d love that.” Before you can start the car again, he says, “what Carol said at the meeting…did it really make you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. “You already have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be another problem to deal with.”

Eddie’s expression hardens, but his frustration isn’t directed towards you. It’s for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.

“Eddie!” you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin.

He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, he’s smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. “You are not a problem. Never.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “We make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, we’ll just…sic Harris on them.”

The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but it’s not quite as heavy as it was before.

You aren’t too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.

And you’re everything to each other.

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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buggachat · 2 years

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hey guys! I just wanted to say that all the attention and support that my silly fancomic is getting is as amazing as it is overwhelming. All the kind words and fanart are so validating and wonderful and I’m so happy that people seem to enjoy my work!

That being said, I do just want to give everyone a gentle reminder that this is just a fancomic, posted for free on Tumblr. I don’t get paid for it (aside from the occasional kofi), I’m not a professional in any way, and nothing about my comic is canon or canon-adjacent or associated with Zag at all. It’s 100% just a labor of love, I’m just some person on the internet with a drawing tablet and too much free time, and I’m really just doing this for fun.

This is all to say, it can be kind of strange stumbling across disappointed analysis posts on my dash (written like I’ll never see them) or getting asks that seem to have certain expectations of me and the comic that I’m making purely as a hobby. I do understand it, and on some level I should have expected it, because this dumb comic of mine really blew up in a way that I never would have predicted. I just know that no matter what, with the amount of eyes on it, it’s going to disappoint some people— probably a lot of people— and people are going to have expectations of me that I’m not going to be able to meet. And that’s okay, there’s nothing I can really do about it, and I’m going to keep working on this story that I initially wrote self-indulgently for my own entertainment, but... yeah.

I guess TLDR: I’m just some tumblr user. I’m on this platform too, and I do see the posts people make about my work. I never meant to make my comic come across as anything more significant than just another piece of fanwork.

#bakery enemies au #i hope this doesnt come across as me implying that im above criticism or anything #i cant stop anyone from doing or saying anything. i guess i'll just try to make a point to not read posts about me that #weren't written with the intention of me reading them #i guess that's something i have to work on too #(also i've gotten some strange asks but that's neither here nor there)#this is all of course a small vocal minority btw!! i dont mean to imply otherwise

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callimara · 3 months

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Please excuse anon's ignorance, but who's Ezra Weisz? I know Jeremy Zag is the producer of Miraculous Ladybug and also the CEO of Zag Entertainment, but I'm not familiar with the name Ezra Weisz. Thanks in advance!

Ezra Weisz is one of the VAs (and apparently director) for Miraculous.

Allegedly, Christina Vee is also pro-Israel, but I haven’t seen any evidence of this personally (feel free to share if you know something), but I DO know she also voices Verosika Mayday in Helluva Boss, which is created and run by Vivziepop who recently posted herself buying KFC and Starbucks (and has yet to put out a statement) soooo…

#Ezra weisz is a Zionist #most of the crew in miraculous ladybug seem to be #miraculous ladybug #free palestine

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adobe-outdesign · 7 months

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Lotad review if not done yet

Lotad's pretty fun, on the grounds of both being a lily pad creature and for having six legs for no real reason. The entire line's based off of the kappa, which is a amphibious yokai with a water dish on its head and a beak. Reinventing the water dish as a lily pad is clever, and it works as a secondary theme.

Visually, the triangles on the hat create a zig-zag pattern that's built upon as it evolves, and the yellow beak provides contrast. I do wish there was more contrast between the blue body and the lily pad—maybe a light green to match Lombre—but otherwise it's a fun little guy.

I also appreciate that Lotad very clearly has a single braincell pinging around in its head like a Windows screensaver.

Lombre is probably my favorite out of these guys. I just enjoy this thing's kind of sombre personality and habit of hiding in the water and scaring people—almost feels like it could've been part dark-type if it wasn't for the rest of the line.

There are a few elements that feel a bit extraneous in the design (such as the ear and the spikes on the hands and feet—maybe those are claws, but then why aren't they red?), but otherwise it comes together pretty well. The light and darker green have good contrast and allow the red accents to really pop, and the markings help to break up the body. I also really like the weird beak shape, which is more of a beak on top and a regular jaw on bottom, with a bit of a zig-zag to keep up with that visual element.

The only other thing I question is if the red parts would've made more sense in yellow, seeing as the red, while looking nice, does just randomly pop up in this stage and then abruptly disappear again. But otherwise yeah, this is a good middle stage with a distinct identity.

Ludicolo feels like a bit of an out of nowhere turn, as we suddenly went from a sombre prankster kappa to a strangely Mexican kappa monster with some vague fruit elements integrated into it. However, it is refreshing to get a final stage that's upbeat and super fun instead of the badass-type designs we usually get, and it does still continue the kappa and lily pad themes enough that it still fits with the line.

The design itself brings the zig-zag motif into full swing by giving it both zig-zags on its fur and on its hat, which is now vaguely sombrero-like. The fruit elements in the middle of the hat and the hands are a pretty interesting way to build on its grass-typing, and the colors work well together.

If there's one issue I have with it, it's that the fur feels a bit out of place—it's just a bit strange considering kappa are amphibious creatures and it's still part water-type. Also, while the green around the eyes helps draw attention to them, it does break up the flow of the design due to the triangles going sideways instead of down like all the other zig-zag elements. But that aside, Ludicolo's a pretty entertaining design that really works better than it probably has a right to.

Overall, some fun and funky kappas with some strong visual motifs.

#lotad #lombre #ludicolo #pokemon #pokemon reviews

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gryficowa · 5 months

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Something pisses me off that people in the fandom reduce all the criticism of the episode with Marinette's trauma to the fact that people in the fandom are stupid or love Chloe too much and hate Marinette

No, people don't like this episode because it has no respect for the viewer and it has many problems that are revealed later in the same season, on top of that, I question whether Adrien's trauma was addressed at all in a respectful way, or whether they justified everything by that he is a senti monster? Exactly

By the way, defenders of this episode, I hope you were going after Felix like you were going after Chloe? Oh no, wait, he was a victim of domestic violence and he was rich, so like Chloe, but he was a boy, so his trauma is more important

But coming back, this episode with Marinette's trauma is problematic on many levels, mainly because it fucks with the logic even more than in the first season when in the episode "Origins" when they rescued Chloe, and then in "Lady Wi-Fi", the chat noir suspects that Chloe it's a ladybug and don't ask about logic, because there is none

Not only does Kim and Chloe make so much sense that Chat Noir from the episode "Lady Wi-Fi" could give a high five on this topic, but calling it "Feature Sharpening" is an understatement, it's more like Thomas had too much to drink before writing the entire script for the episode, and like a typical kid, he created the episode like one of the "Scooby-Doo" movies, where Scrappy-Doo was an out-of-character character in order to be antagonized (Because the fandom didn't like him, so it's better to kill off the whole character this way)

What's the best way to end the story of a father who abuses his child? Give him a statue, the fandom will 100% love it

Seriously, Thomas, we all know you didn't write this episode for traumatized people, but just to go the way people did to kill Scrappy-Doo, which was to kill Chloe herself so that the fandom would hate her and Kim in the process suffered, because why not?

And by the way, to explain your imaginary daughter with your ex…

The standards of this series also contributed to the reception of this episode, and I would also like to remind you that Zag wanted redemption for Chloe, but Thomas himself did not want it, so when Zag left to create the film, Thomas went to destroy the whole Chloe, because like a child he cannot reconcile with this, that a fictional character can have any development and tried his hardest to kill Chloe like a Scappy-Doo movie, seriously Thomas, I understand a lot, but as a creator you should use it to your advantage and not kill her off because you hate your character so much (Like a child what creates illustrations of cartoon characters dying because he hates them)

Seriously, this show has 00's to 2010 vibes, but today? Such productions are more annoying than entertaining (And I say this as a 01-year-old)

This writing by Chloe and Kim seriously has Scrappy-Doo movie vibes to me

So the episode with Marinette's trauma is even more irritating, because anyone sensitive will notice what Thomas did here and it is a seriously conscious murder of his characters.

The context of this episode makes you feel offended rather than understood by the creator, because it's not about empathy towards people with trauma like Marinette, but about killing off the characters of Chloe and Kim

No matter how much I love the trope of the main character who, over time, turns out to have a trauma that the viewer doesn't know about, this show fucked it up and resulted in a not-so-good taste

It's just the context of this episode that causes it, I'm seriously sensitive to this way of writing and it has irritated me since I was a child, I was hoping that the newer the cartoons, the more it would disappear, but then Thomas appeared and did my hated trope, but turned it up to the max

Sometimes I wonder why many great creators get as few seasons as possible, while Thomas gets more

Because no matter how much I liked this show, after Chloe's arc fell apart and the writing fell apart because killing Chloe is more important than everything else in this show, it made me fed up

And because of creators like Thomas, many people consider animations as worthless and only entertainment for small children, because Thomas' writing style is effortless (And even productions for preschoolers can handle it, yes, I'm talking about "Bluey"), just as little as possible, and the fact that the fandom swallows everything has a simple task in this topic

Thomas had a good idea, but Miracolous's greatest enemy was Thomas himself

Damn, it's hard for me to come back to the series, but "Ladybug PV" is awesome, so Thomas himself has gone backwards in the development of his work, literally.

Ok, Felix was still problematic (It was chat noir back then, for those who don't know the history of the miracolous creation process)

But if Thomas could develop the character… Oh no, wait, he can't, that's why Felix became Adrien

By the way, Mr. Pigeon and the mime from the first season appeared in this version, just an interesting fact

I also have the impression that the characters had a better design than in the current series

There was another 3D version, which also looked amazing, so the version we got is the worst and this thought kills me, because this series could have been something more, but Thomas himself killed it, i.e. the creator killed his creation before showing it in its entirety to the world (Congratulations, Thomas)

Yes, I had to let go of all my frustration with the show and the fandom, because it's fucked up that when you criticize the bad writing of Marinette's trauma, people come up with their theories on why you do it, not why you do it and why you don't like it

#cartoon #cartoonist #ml critical #ml fandom salt #ml ladybug #ml salt #ml writers salt #ml writing salt #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #chloe bourgeois #thomas why?#thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug salt #ml writing critical #anti thomas astruc

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capturecharlesau · 3 months

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DANNY FACT FEBRUARY 8 🍄 🌟

Danny is a HUUUUUUUGE FAN of Super Mario Brothers! He’s played ALL of the Mario Brothers games since the 80’s of the very first one to Mario Wonder recently and his favorite Mario game of all time is the O SO CLASSIC…..Super Mario World for the SNES (aka Super Nintendo Entertainment System! The one I grew up with :3) and he’s seen ALL the Mario cartoons and DEFINITELY has seen the Mario Movie the day it released hehehe!

Danny plays it all the time and loves to buy merch of the Brothers and has many plushies and merch, books, clothes, etc on them heheh! He loves every character in the franchise….except Bloopers… >:( …….those ANNOYING ASS SQUIDS THAT ZIG ZAG TO YOU AAAAAH— anyway Hehe here are some unnecessary facts :)

Favorite character: Mario, Luigi, Peach, Toad, and Yoshi! (But mainly Mario hehe)

Favorite koopaling: Ludwig Von Koopa and Lemmy Koopa! (Since Lemmy reminds him of his goofy brother Mirage hehehe)

Favorite Yoshi: Pink Yoshi (since pink is his favorite color hehe)

Favorite enemy: The Lakitu! (Aka the mysterious turtle that controls the skies and throws spinys at you hehe)

Favorite theme: Underground levels!

Favorite power-up: Cape feather and the Bubble flower heheh

Least favorite things in Mario Brothers: Bloopers, The Angry Sun, Mini mushroom, underwater levels, Bowser Jr, and Bowser lol

He sometimes likes to pretend he’s Mario and Mirage is Luigi when they were kids hehe! Nowadays Danny pretends sometimes that he’s saving “peach” (aka Crusher lol)

But Danny can’t help but feel so giddy and feminine towards his pretty handsome hubby :3 💕

AND IN CONCLUSION…. Danny is quite possibly… Nintendo’s number 1 fan in Super Mario Brothers hahahaha!!! XD

Yahoo!! :D 🍄

Crusher belongs to @jaytoons7

#thsc #the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin collection #captured!charles au #danny felizima #thsc crusher #richard hughes #thsc starlight

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breannasfluff · 1 year

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Go Fetch!

“Wolfie! Go fetch the stick!”

Twilight watched Wind throw a stick with a supremely unimpressed look on his face. He wasn’t a dog, much as he might pass out cuddles as needed.

Wind hops up and down, too full of energy. “Go get it! Get it!”

“He’s not going to play fetch,” Warriors calls.

Turning with a pout, Wind looks for another stick. “You don’t know that!”

“Remember what happened the last time you treated him like a dog?”

Twilight settles his head on his paws and watches Wind grumble until Sky distracts him with some task.

It’s late afternoon and they are sprawled in a dell, the area cleared of monsters. Time and Legend are fishing at the nearby stream winding into the woods. Twilight was tempted to join them, but the lure of being a wolf to relax was too much to resist.

Four leans against his side with his eyes shut and face up to the sun. It’s peaceful; the heroes entertaining themselves in quiet ways.

An explosion shatters the silence and Twilight jumps to his feet. Four hits the ground with a yelp as he looks around. Before the worry can grow too strong, there’s a descending three note whistle signifying an all clear.

A crash from the nearby forest is followed by Wild emerging from the trees. He’s covered in leaves and dirt, dragging a large…branch? No, closer to a small tree.

The heroes watch in trepidation as he lugs it over to Sky. It hits the ground with a thud as he drops it to sign. ‘Got you some wood to carve.’

Sky’s face pales in the face of his dubious gift. “Wow, Wild, that was—thoughtful. Are you okay? We heard an explosion.”

He shrugs. ‘Bombs to get the wood.’

“Bombs—“ Sky shakes his head. “I don’t want to know. Thank you for the wood.”

‘I’ve got an axe, I can cut it up!’ Wild’s already punching at his slate and a large ax materializes. He hefts it over his head and brings it down with a crash.

Yelping, Sky skitters away from the flying wood chips. Wild swung it so hard it is half embedded into the ground. All raw power, no finesse. Another crash, and the log is split again.

“I don’t need it chopped anymore!” Sky is half hidden behind Warriors across the clearing.

Wild’s eyes hold a manic energy that likely points to going stir crazy. He’s more active than the rest of them, but his Hyrule is a lot bigger than the ones they’ve visited so far.

He likes exploring as much as Hyrule and has the stamina and energy to match it. Used to traveling alone and quickly, he chafes at the Chain’s slow speed most days. Stuck here with nothing to do, relaxing doesn’t equal winding down.

No one else in the group is volunteering as a victim distraction—even Wind. With a groan, Twilight hauls himself to his paws.

The log is chopped into small chunks; either for carving or the fire at this point. Wild puts away the axe, but likely only because Sky is still hiding.

Safe from flying metal, Twilight circles the logs until he finds a suitable branch chopped off. With a mental eye roll at the teasing to come, he picks it up and trots to Wild.

“Hey no fair! Why does Wolfie want to play fetch with you?” Wind is disgusted at the double standard, but he’s not liable to blow things up when he’s bored. Probably.

Wild focuses on Twilight with laser attention; churning energy apparent in every twitching muscle. He needed to move and Twilight can provide the distraction.

He prances closer, picking up his paws and tilting his head with the stick invitingly. Wild reaches out to grab it; gentle in case he decides to hold onto it.

Twilight drops it into his hand and barks, moving a few feet away and looking back.

With a grin, Wild chucks the stick and Twilight chases after it. He’s got a good range. Stick in mouth, Twilight doesn’t return, just paces across the grass and wags his head at Wild. Come play, he invites with body language.

Something tight in Wild’s shoulders loosens and he’s running for Twilight. He digs in his paws, tail high, and speeds off with his prize. Zigging and zagging, Wild stays only a few steps behind.

Read the rest here!

#linked moments #linked universe #breannasfluff #linkeduniverse #lu wild #lu twilight #lu wolfie #feral link #fluff #linked universe fanfic #my writing

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jmdbjk · 10 months

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BTS: Beyond the Story

These are just my personal thoughts and opinions after finishing the book. I don't quote the book in this blog post. I don't talk about specific topics so I don't really give any spoilers. But I do talk about my thoughts on what I've read. If you don’t want to know ANYTHING about the book, keep scrolling.

My overall impression: Wow. Amazing.

I have learned so much. If you've been with me a while on this blog, you may already know that my BTS journey began right before the release of Map of the Soul:7.

My journey could be described as: if you will, visualize opening a Google map and dragging that little Street View dude/dudette to the middle of a huge city and dropping him/her/them there and then just moving along in street view as you explore. I was that little guy going this way and that trying to consume BTS content and trying to make sense of it all but I was zig zagging backwards and forwards in time with no view from above to see where I was going or where I had been. I'd watch something that would lead me this way and then the next thing I watched would propel me back in time and then I'd have to stop and watch the current Run BTS (show) as it dropped and I was ALL. OVER. THE. PLACE. consuming content back and forth chronologically and it was difficult to put it all in order because there is so much content available on so many different platforms.

But this book lays it out all nice in a straight line with the visual, musical and information references to go with everything. I LOVE IT! I feel like I graduated from Bangtan Academy with an undergrad degree in BTSology.

And now in their own words I have a much better understanding of their process as they worked on specific albums and songs, what their motivations, fears, happiness and goals were. And what the songs, albums and concepts were about, what the lyrics meant to them.

My personal takeaways:

• The members struggled with imposter syndrome as they experienced success and the more popular they became. A lot of times they were unsure if they deserved the success they were achieving. Each success made them work hard for the next goal but the sudden overwhelming global recognition was hard to handle.

• They consider this their job. They understand its a business that exists to make money. And most of the time, they love this job. And they work very hard at it.

• At the same time, they also define themselves strongly as members of BTS. They are a team who know each others strengths and weaknesses.

• Their bond with each other is rare in the entertainment world.

• They each describe themselves very clearly.

• I am seeing JM and JK in a new light here. Jimin and Jungkook's words and thoughts impressed me. Their poise and awareness and eloquence even when they were explaining how they were struggling and wondering if what they were doing was right and going to work. Their determination can be felt in their words as they explain how they wondered if they would make it, and once they did, how would they survive the pressure. Jimin was always tuned in emotionally to what was going on.

• Jungkook is wise beyond his years. His baby image is not real. Many are not giving him the credit he deserves when it comes to knowing what he’s doing. He grew up fast in a world we know nothing about because we don't live in it.

• The fact that Jimin and Jungkook's trip to Tokyo has its own section under the title "Real" Love is mind blowing.

• The relationship of the group and the company working together to make it all happen was one of the reasons they made it. Their mentor Bang Si-Hyuk, nurtured their art and pushed them until they soared. And every one of them speaks highly of Bang PD.

• The haters, the amount of hate and the types of hate aimed at them was unbelievable. I always thought there was a little exaggeration in regards to that but no. Some form of hate/backlash/bullying/efforts to discredit them, was there from the beginning, from all sides. It is a fucking miracle they are still with us. I am in awe of their ability to walk through that fire.

• I feel like my habit of looking at the "big picture" gained a wider scope into their world.

I will re-read and refer to some of my favorite content not included in the QR codes in the book so I can see if what I know now changes how I feel. Hopefully I will come away with a post-grad degree in BTSology after that.

The vernacular in translating Korean to English is not a smooth word for word translation so I think some of the passion and emotion in what the members were trying to convey does not easily come across with as much emphasis as it probably was said during their interviews but it does not diminish the meaning of what they said. When I re-read I am going to really concentrate on hearing their own voices as I read the member's words again.

The only real issue I had and it is very minor: the method of using italicized all-caps for the lengthy album titles became burdensome to read. THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IN LIFE: PT. 1; THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IN LIFE: PT. 2 and THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IN LIFE: YOUNG FOREVER were a lot for my eyeballs and brain to handle when they were repeated again and again in paragraph after paragraph.

#bts: beyond the story #my heart lurched many times while reading

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runawayolives · 2 years

Text

Knowing Max before you both became F1 drivers.

Summary: Inspired on the video of this gif. I die when Charles says "inshident."

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader | Charles Leclerc x reader (platonic)

Mastelist

When you were about seven, you were invited to a birthday party where the plan was to go Karting.

Your dad had taken you to it and had stayed with the other parents while they watched a bunch of little kids treating go-karts like bumper cars, except for you, who had taken the event very seriously and had ended up in first place when they gave all of you the stats after the race.

Once all of the kids had taken off the suits and the helmets, you had run towards your dad, big eyes shining in excitement after the adrenaline rush you had felt inside the red miniature race car.

"There's my little Hamilton." You remember very clearly looking up at your dad, confusion on your face.

"Who?

Your dad started researching Karting more seriously, after seeing how much you liked it, he had taken it upon himself to sign you up to small leagues and get you a monthly subscription to a go-karting club an hour away from your house.

Looking back, you could very clearly and proudly say that your dad had been your biggest supporter, and at the same time the person that pushed you the most.

It never got toxic, though. He always saw it as your hobby, your sport for entertainment, never as your future career. In fact, at the end of the day, your dad would ask whoever was listening to please let your dream of a professional career as an F1 driver, be just that, a dream.

The go-karting club had signed you up to many small leagues, seeing the possible potential to compete against people from other cities, even in international competitions.

As you competed, you got better and started participating in a more professional karting league, where you met your best friend and who you named your nemesis.

you approached Charles at the beginning of one of the karting races, introducing yourself and hoping he could be a friend, at least during that competition.

During those thirty minutes before the race, you became good friends, coming up with a quick and simple tactic to make sure you ended up in the top three places.

When the race started, the victim of your tactic was the one and only max Verstappen. You hadn't competed against him yet, but Charles had warned you about his temper.

the move was simple enough, block whoever was behind you in a zig-zag manner. It wasn't the cleanest move, but you felt a rush while doing it. The young dutch started getting nervous and decided to crash his kart against yours.

His plan was just to scare you a bit so that you stopped blocking his path. Instead, both karts got stuck, Max's slightly under yours.

Once you managed to get out of the kart, you angrily stomped towards the little butthead that had ruined your chances of getting a cool medal that you could show your mom.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Vhat is vrong vith you?"

"You completely ruined both karts, and have gotten us out of the race. Are you seriously that stupid?"

Max looked shocked for a total of five milliseconds, and then attacked.

"You veren't racing fair. You and Charles vere both cheatin'"

"Oh shut up. If you can't be a good spot, you shouldn't be in a competition."

Your father was quick to reach the fence closest to you both.

"Y/N, come out, it's fine. There are more races." You grumbled some witty insult and walked toward your dad. Once you reached him, you let him see your teary eyes. "Honey, no need to cry over this."

You rubbed your eyes, trying not to make your voice betray you. "But I was so excited over the medal, I wanted to show Mommy and my friends." When things like these happened, your dad would remember that you were the youngest in the majority of these competitions (you were ten in this one, and Charles and Max were 13) and that the boys (who were a larger number than the girls competing) usually had a career in F1 as a final target.

"Come on sweet. We're in France, isn't that exciting?" He reached down to get rid of the remaining tears. "We have two mere days left, you have to be excited. This was an amazing opportunity. And you had fun while racing, didn't you?" You shifted in your spot, shrugging your shoulders.

"Let's go princess, we can have some pastries in that bakery beside the hotel." Your dad could see max shifting awkwardly in his spot beside the two karts, unsure of what to do.

"Okay." You walked to the nearest gate and then held the hand your dad was offering. One of the organizers, a young boy, about 20 years old, approached you.

"Y/N, you did amazing, you should be proud."

"But I didn't win, not even finish." The boy, Jacques, looked at your dad, who gave him a sad smile.

"You being here is amazing enough. These boys have been training for this since they were old enough to drive a kart. You're here because you wanted to have fun, and you've been driving for far less. It's so impressive. Being able to participate in this competition is a very big deal, and you've been able. I know I'm going to see you on TV someday."

"Thank you." You and your dad started walking toward the parking lot after he shook Jacques' hand and thanked him for the opportunity.

On your way to the car, Jos and Max Verstappen angrily passed by you, the older man bumping shoulders against your dad. You looked at him in question. "Some people take this very seriously, honey."

You again got interrupted, this time by a friendlier face.

"Y/N!"

You both turned around and saw Charles, who had a first-place medal in hand. "Hey, Charles, congratulations."

"This is for you." You looked at Charles unsure, the boy had his arm extended, offering you the first-place medal.

"I can't take it."

"Nonsense. Thanks to your amazing strategy, I was able to win, and you were able to stop Max. This medal is yours as much as it's mine, and I want you to have it."

You looked at him unsure. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I already took a picture with it, don't worry, I have the memory." Your dad could sense you were having a small crisis on the inside.

"That is very nice of you, Charles, but we both think you should have it." You nodded enthusiastically, completely agreeing with what your dad was saying.

"Nonsense, we insist." Both Charles's parents were behind their son, dazzling smiles on both of their faces. "Y/N has done an amazing job, and we want to give her recognition for it."

Your dad looked down at you, shrugging. "Your call, kiddo."

You looked at Charles, feeling like crying again, too many feelings for your little self. "I'll take it, but whenever we see each other again, I'll give it back to you, and the same the other way around."

Both parents smiled, finding the small deal too adorable to resist. "What if we exchange phone numbers so that the two of you can keep in touch?"

Years later, when you started racing for mercedes, you and Max's rivalry grew, until you got a better offer with Red Bull after a few first-place races. Once you joined the red Bull team, Christian Horner was adamant about getting you and Max to get along, which, after some time, did happen.

It became a funny topic in interviews once you started getting more fame, the small video of you and Max yelling at each other, and the other video of Charles handing you the medal.

During one race in Monaco, you flew your dad in, so that he could spend the week with you, and so that he could meet Max, not as your nemesis (as you decided to call him for a very long time) but as your boyfriend.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc #f1 #x reader #x you #x y/n #oneshot #headcanon #red bull #there was an inshident #runawayolives #verstappen

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coffinbrotherr · 1 month

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Speak to me about oshi no ko then you coward - @coffinsister

ALRIGHT,LETS DO THIS. ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR OSHI NO KO SO IF YOU HAVENT SEEN IT JUST KEEP SCROLLING.

So, before I actually sat down and watched it I really only knew about the op and Ai, literally nothing else. I was fully expecting a "oh but the idol is actually INSANEEEEE" plot and just kinda had my expectations in check.

Then me and my roommate sat down to watch it and I was like "oh that's weird, it looks like the first episode is an hour. I hope the whole series isn't like that."

Anyways, so we're watching it, it's fine so far but I was just kinda waiting for the "oh but she's actually really abusive towards her staff" or "actually she HATES the kids" moment or something.

Then Ai gets fucking shot and we just go fucking silent, like full stop SILENT. Nearly cried because WOW, I SEE IM PART OF THE PROBLEM. So at this rate I'm hooked and we just keep watching over the next few days and holy shit its so good. Now I might have a bit of a bias because I'm actually entering the entertainment industry, was a child actor and am going into the business side of said industry so the whole show was really interesting from my perspective because I didn't expect something like an authors work to be badly translated into film which Is NEVER touched on outside of gags so I was blown away by that kind of stuff. Every time I thought it was gonna zig, it zagged. Everytime I thought I knew what was going on, bam, shot in the heart and by the end I just wanted to keep watching.

If for whatever reason someone has read this far and hasn't seen Oshi no ko (first of all rude) but more importantly, go watch it. I HAVE a link for it if you want it just GO WATCH IT ALREADY