david - he/him, 31, ace/gay villain apologist and monster fucker - icon by @maxxifer - doughritoart.carrd.co i forget to change my age on my birthday so sometimes my bio is wrong lol
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Season 2 AU where the last person Eddie ever expects to see show up at his table in the woods is Nancy Wheeler.
He says exactly as much and she cuts to the chase, “Do you make deals for anything other than drugs?”
Eddie blinks.
The answer is yes. Alcohol. Illegal fireworks. It may take some time, but he can even get you a passable fake ID but - “What is Nancy Wheeler looking for?”
“Friendship.”
Eddie blinks again, dumbfounded. He asks the question slowly like approaching an animal you don’t understand, “You…want me…to be your friend?”
“No,” She says quick and dismissive, dropping her binder of books onto the table and pulling out her neatly labeled English notebook. “You know Steve Harrington?”
“Do I know Steve Harrington?” He asks dully. “Is there someone in this town who doesn’t?”
“I want you to be his friend.”
“I…what?” He asks, baffled. Truly baffled. Even more baffled when she rips a page out of her English notebook and hands it to him. It’s a depressingly short list labeled Steve’s Favorite Things. “I- I need you to back up? What’s happening?”
“I’m making a deal with you,” Nancy says which isn’t how drug dealing works at all. “I want you to be friends with Steve and I’ll pay you.”
She opens her little pocketbook, pulls out her matching wallet, and holds out twenty bucks. She says, “I don’t have a lot but I can do twenty dollars a week. Thats a little under three dollars a day to be someone’s friend and you don’t even have to talk to him every day.”
Yeah, Eddie thinks. Sure. He’ll entertain this Twilight Zone episode for a second because, “Why would I be friends with Steve Harrington?”
“Because he doesn’t have any,” Nancy says and then sighs. She looks tired. “Steve stopped talking to his old friends last year which. That’s not a bad thing. They’re assholes. But he did that for me and now he won’t talk to me be-
“-cause you smashed his heart into a million tiny pieces?”
She gives him a look that makes him think twice about saying anything else, “Steve got hurt. I hurt him but he also got physically hurt. You saw him and I - We’ve been through a lot. All of us but he’s shutting me out.”
“He’s shutting everybody out,” She adds. “I’m worried about him.”
Okay? Edide thinks. That’s sweet and all but-
“What does that have to do with me?” He asks. “Don’t know if you noticed but I’m a freak.”
Nancy smiles, “You run Hellfire.”
“I don’t think Harrington is going to be up for some fantasy role playing, honey.”
“No, probably not,” Nancy concedes, “But it’s not about that. It’s about you and the effect you have on the people in Hellfire. Every year, you bring together people who probably never would have talked to anybody and gave them somewhere safe to be. That’s what Steve needs. He needs a friend.”
“He needs you,” She says, pushing the money across the table. “So, accept my offer.”
Well…
If Eddie thought more about this maybe he would’ve seen how this was going to inevitably blow up in his face but he wasn’t thinking about that.
He was thinking about eighty bucks a month and now many records that could buy. He was thinking about gas money and movie tickets, not about what Steve was going to think if he found out or how bad he’s going to feel about it so…
The first party Billy goes to after the “mall fire” is the first time Billy’s ever felt out of place, at least in a long damn time. His normally oozing confidence is tamped down. He nurses a beer and lets the loud music pound in his ears as he sinks into a battered couch by himself. He needs something to take the edge off, because the beer is doing fuck all for him, and like hell is he going to go home and try to sleep. Neil’s been on his ass even worse since he got out of the hospital.
And that’s when he spots a certain Eddie “the Freak” Munson, an unlit joint tucked behind his ear as he works on packing and rolling another one between his long, ringed fingers. There’s a couple girls hovering around him where he’s sitting in a recliner, watching him and giggling–maybe because they’re drunk, maybe it’s because they, like so many others, think he’s a freak, maybe they genuinely are excited. He does generally have decent stuff, from what Billy’s heard. Billy watches him seal the joint and hand it over with an exaggerated bow and a lazy smile. One of the girls reaches over, something tucked between her fingers that Eddie smoothly swipes from her hand and stuffs into the pocket of his vest.
Maybe he’s a freak. But maybe he could be useful. And it helps that he has those pretty brown doe eyes.
Eddie genuinely looks surprised when Billy steps over to him, giving him a quick once over. Maybe he thought he was going to beat him up or something.
“Hargrove, good to see you’re up and moving again,” Eddie chirps, leaning back against the recliner with a cocked eyebrow. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Billy’s eyes dart to the joint tucked by his hair before they flicker back to Eddie’s. “How much for a joint, Munson?”
Eddie’s face breaks out into a lazy smile and he reaches up to snatch the joint from its holding place. “For you? First one’s free.” He offers, hand extending to Billy. “From what I heard, you’ve been through Hell and back. You look like you need it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy barks back, eyes narrowing, though the way he takes the joint from Eddie’s fingers is gentle. He’s trying to keep up his hard exterior, but goddamn is he worn out from it.
Eddie throws his hands up in surrender, grinning nervously. “Listen man, all I’m saying is you look tired. I get it. Near death shit will do that to you.”
Billy’s shoulders slump, all fight immediately going out of him as he sticks the joint between his lips. The room is starting to feel suffocating, and he needs to get out before he has some kind of panic attack. The heavy music, the waft of bitter beer, the constant chatter…it’s starting to make his head pound. He hates how damn sensitive he’s become.
“‘M going outside. You coming?”
Eddie blinks up at him, those pretty brown eyes round and curious before he shrugs and gets up, snatching the metal lunch box he had set down by his feet. “If you’re sharing, sure.”
Billy doesn’t bother waiting to get out of the house to light the joint. He takes a long drag and holds it in as he pushes the front door open, the smoke curling inside him probably longer than it should but he wants the burn in his lungs and his throat. He finds a spot to lean against the railing on the porch of–shit, whose house was this even–and tilts his head back as blows the smoke out.
As Eddie sidles up next to him, Billy hands over the joint. He can feel the warmth of his body so close to him. Part of him wants to lean in closer. “You do have good shit,” he grumbles, but there’s no bite in his tone.
“Wouldn’t be the best dealer in town if I didn’t have top tier stuff,” Eddie replied with a huff of a laugh, taking the joint from Billy and taking a decadent drag from it.
Billy blames the strong weed for the way he narrows in on Eddie’s lips. He has to force himself to look away before he does something dangerous.
A quiet settles between them for a few moments. They pass the joint back and forth between each other on autopilot, like they do this all the time.
“You come here with anyone?” Billy blurts suddenly, before he can stop himself. What the fuck was he doing? Why did he even care?
He was lonely.
Billy was fucking lonely, and it was downright embarssing. But he’d heard rumors about Eddie. That he was queer. That the little hanky that hung out of the back pocket of his jeans wasn’t just for decoration. And a small, daring part of him wanted to see if the rumors were true.
Eddie turns to him slowly, an eyebrow raised. There’s almost a playful glint in his eyes. “I know you’re still a little new here, Hargrove, but I’m not really the kind of guy who people want to invite to parties.” He replies easily, taking another hit off the joint. He doesn't pass it this time though, studying Billy carefully. “I mostly show up for the money. Sometimes the people watching.”
“You, however,” Eddie continues, poking Billy playfully square in the chest–his nearly bare chest. Billy resists the urge to grab Eddie’s wrist and keep his hand there. The tips of his fingers are warm and there’s something grounding about the touch that he’s been missing for a while. “Could probably have just about any girl at this party. I bet you could even give Harrington a run for his money with your reputation. I heard you’ve even got quite a repertoire with the Hawkins PTA.”
Billy makes a face. Eddie isn’t…wrong. But he’s just…not interested in that. And it scares him. “Yeah well…” he looks away, watching a couple people stumbling across the lawn and whooping when another one of their friends face plants. “Not in the mood for that.”
“Man, the accident really did change you, huh?” Eddie replies quietly, and Billy expects to see some kind of teasing look in his eyes. But Eddie looks genuine. If anything, he’s got a concerned crease between his brows. Billy has the urge to smooth it out with the pad of his thumb before he shakes the thought from his head.
Billy’s jaw sets hard and he snatches the joint back to keep his hands busy before he does something he’ll regret. “Put a lot of shit into perspective.”
Eddie nods, like he understands, and there’s something calming about it that allows Billy’s shoulders to slump a little.
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Not to be all "the children have forgotten the sacred texts!" but I just saw someone refer to a ship between two people who are good friends in canon as a crackship.
Hon. No. Crackship doesn't just mean "not canon". It's difficult to imagine two people who spend significant canon time together as a crackship. Crackship is when you write Galactus getting fucked by Tony the Tiger.
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This map of comparing climates of the cities has been created using Global environmental stratification. The Global environmental stratifica
Writing about a place and want a better sense of what the climate is like and whether it's similar to places you're familiar with? Well have we got a resource for you!
This map has been created using The Global environmental stratification. The Global environmental stratification (GEnS), based on statistical clustering of bioclimate data (WorldClim). GEnS, consists of 125 strata, which have been aggregated into 18 global environmental zones (labeled A to R) based on the dendrogram.
How many cities are included? Oh...a whole lot...well over than 6,000...
And what information does it include?
So so so much information.
Wherever you want to write, this has got you covered. Check it out!
Billy hargrove is sooooooooooooo cute. I know steve wants to kiss his nose a million times to see his eyebrows scrunch up and tie his hair for him when hes drunk and help him fix his car in the summer. Feed him homemade soup when hes sick. Kicks his feet thinking about lending billy one of his thermals when it starts to get cold
Fic where Steve's dad finds out about the Russian torture but not the upside down because Steve 'don't talk to cops without a lawyer' Harrington and Robin 'be honest, what really happened to JFK?' Buckley won't tell the FBI what happened to them without a lawyer despite the fact that-
"You're not being arrested," The agent in front of them repeats for the hundredth time. "You're not being interrogated. This isn't an interrogation. It's an interview. We're gathering information on what happened tonight."
"That's what I'd say if I was interrogating someone," Steve shrugs. He turns to Robin and says, "That's how they get you."
"We're not trying to 'get you,' we-"
"They want to frame up for the mall burning down," Robin accuses. "You think you're so smart with your mind tricks. Well, we solved a Russian code with-"
"Robin."
"Oh," She's stops. Narrows her eyes. "Tricky."
"You already told us about the - what did you call it? The Mind Flayer."
"The flesh monster."
"Yes."
"We signed an NDA about upside down bullshit already so we talked about it. This is different. Duh."
Robin echoes, "Duh."
"Okay," The agent says. "Just tell up what happened when you were underground and-"
"Not without a lawyer."
The agent sighs.
The agent thinks they should've went to nursing school like their mother wanted.
The agent thinks the lord above that Mr Harrington and Miss Buckley's lawyer - Mr Harrington (father) - finally finished filling out his paperwork.
Steve's father looks pissed right up until he sees his son beaten half to hell. He opens his mouth to ask what the fuck happened when Steve turns to the agent.
"My dad-lawyer is here," He announces. "We can tell you about the torture now.."
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"going out to get milk" is a common turn of phrase used to describe a man abandoning his family.
the "milkman" is a common figure in stories depicting a woman's infidelity and adulterous affair.
this implies that the ability to provide milk would both decrease the likelihood of a man abandoning his wife and children, as it would eliminate the need for leaving to get milk AND would secure that man's marriage, as his wife would have no need to seek milk from an extraneous source.
therefore, all men should produce milk, through various means such as:
- being a cow
- being an almond
- being a woman
- being a coconut
- being in the omegaverse
- being an oat
(list is exemplary and not finite)
in this essay, i will redefine the nuclear family and explain the seductive and inflammatory nature of the 1993 "Got Milk?" commercials.
