Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.
I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING
What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*
who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.
love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.
and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.
“the goo pile that is now your body”
i’m dying over here, jesus
please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.
Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*
Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
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Closest match: Canis lupus genome assembly, chromosome: 12
Common name: Wolf
Raindove is still fundraising to get as many people out of Rafah as quickly as possible while the tanks are encroaching on Rafah. The terrorist zionist forces are going to try to do as much damage as possible. They're about 3k away from their initial goal. They don't have much more time. They've already done so much to help Ghazzawiyeh, they can do more with your help.
on my worst mental health days, when I need to keep up but can’t stand the dread of scrolling, I look to Let’sTalkPalestine’s Instagram channel for news updates. Today I read something that really fucked with me. It said that even if there was a ceasefire called tomorrow, and aid allowed in and etc. that it would take Gaza until 2092 for its economy to return to 2022 levels. 70 years of potential progress, stolen from them in 4 months. And you just know that even when that happens (because Palestine WILL recover and WILL be rebuilt after Israel’s settler colony fails) the world will see that they’re still years behind the West for reasons completely out of their control and power and use it as justification to be even more racist and demeaning. And y’know how I know that? Because they already do it to the rest of the Middle East.
no ceasefire called by the ICJ, just demands that we all know Israel will naturally ignore. Keep Gaza in your hearts and thoughts today - knowing the petty leaders at the head of Israel, this may be the deadliest day in the genocide yet.
Ahmed Saad, a Palestinian man who had to jump through an insane amount of loops to get the funds necessary for escaping Gaza, is asking us all to donate to his friend’s family fund.
Mohamed is a hemophilia patient who needs access to medicine and to do surgery on his knees, his 11-year-old daughter also needs thigh surgery (she was supposed to do it outside Gaza in November but couldn't travel due to the border issues). Mohammed’s condition is worsening rapidly and, with Israel destroying the last functional hospital in Gaza, things are looking dire.
Please donate generously!
Hello, I hope you all are doing well! My name is Mohamed, I’m a hemophilia patient from Gaza. I decided to start this campaign with all the
UPDATE!!! Some people have been experiencing some issues donating, and getting this message - "The transaction has been declined to comply with international regulations". Diaa, the brother of Mohamed and relative of his family, has provided a QR code to donate to his Paypal directly.
It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms.
Worse?
It was short.
Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans.
The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at.
“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming.
Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme.
“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym.
Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.
‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’
“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel.
They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.
Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give.
Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.
(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.
Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures.
The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.)
Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.
Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.
Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds.
“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious. “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”
He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.”
To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was.
None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.
Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it.
Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.
Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome.
“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again.
A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.
“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!”
Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction
“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”
“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!
“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!”
As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.
Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s.
“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!”
It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.”
Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise.
Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for.
(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.)
The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con.
It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.
Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.
Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.
“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.”
He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.
Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.
(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)
“You know who doesn’t look scary?”
Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of;
“Steve!”
Eddie’s left eye twitched.
‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.
Cartoon squawking and all.
“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.”
So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.
“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”
Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.
There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this.
Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game.
One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all.
(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”
“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.)
“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly.
“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!
“Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?”
He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.
“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of a few silly images.”
A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room.
“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!”
This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air.
Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!
He was right!
Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.
“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking.
Because King Steve? Play D&D?
'Ha!'
“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!”
“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.
Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed.
Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.)
The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway.
As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.
“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.
"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.”
Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table
Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.”
The dick.
“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.
He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.
Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.
fellow protest attendees, i am begging you to take safety measures, you simply can’t trust your government to not go after you if your face is clearly visible and documented.
hats, masks, bulky jackets if the weather allows it. In the aftermath of a number of BLM protests, people were identified from photos and arrested, just DONT take the chance.
Eddie posts a Tiktok of himself at a store in the Halloween aisle. He presses the button on one of those toys that plays music and dances, and then headbangs to the song because it’s a song by Corroded Coffin.
“Think fast, Munson,” You hear right before Eddie is smacked in the side of the head with a flying bag of laffy taffy.
Eddie nearly drops his phone but you can hear Steve, right before the video ends, say, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
Eddie who crashes at Steve's after movie night, despite knowing it's a bad idea considering his increasingly out-of-control and hopeless crush. He's supposed to be working on boundaries and expectations, not falling asleep on the couch with his head on the man's shoulder, and waking up being fucking carried upstairs to bed.
The next morning, he plans on making a sneaky exit, but then he hears a stereo playing from somewhere downstairs. He makes his way to the kitchen to find Steve dancing and belting along with I Wanna Dance with Somebody, passionately singing into a spatula.
And so much for Eddie keeping his crush under control, because this? It's the cutest goddamn thing he's seen in his life and he's head over heels.
He can't help walking up to Steve, taking him in his arms, and judging by the way Steve's face lights up, his crush might not be so unrequited after all.
Steve was such an embodiment of a golden retriever that Eddie could hardly hate him even when his Munson Doctrine said otherwise.
Once Eddie got to know him better, he knew he was done for.
The guy wasn't only a pretty face and fine muscles, he was also kind and a goddamn sweetheart.
And Eddie? He was a sucker for Steve Harrington.
Had been since high school and never thought he could fall any deeper until Dustin literally force introduced him to Steve who took one look at him and invited him to his house.
As if they were good friends and not two strangers who had just talked to each other for the first time.
"We actually talked once before all of this," said Steve absentmindedly as they were chilling out on the lounge chairs by the pool.
Sometimes, the night breeze would sail past them and Eddie would be able to smell Steve's citrus cologne mix with the chlorine that came from the pool.
Also, he'd never admit that the sight of Steve in that white snug T and those stupid tiny green shorts made him a little bit dizzy.
"When?" Eddie was bewildered. Because if he had interacted with Steve, then he sure as hell he'd remember it for the rest of his life.
"On my first year," Steve gave him a meaningful look. "You seemed to hate me a lot the moment we met so I didn't try to approach you anymore."
Eddie remembered it now. That day, Steve had come to buy from him but since he didn't sell to underages, he decided to scare the younger boy away and then forgot all about it once he returned to his trailer.
Turned out, his tactic worked a little bit too well and now, Eddie finally understood why Steve never came to him and it was always Tommy or Carol's brother instead.
"Thanks for that anyway," said Steve quietly.
"For what?" Eddie frowned slightly in confusion.
"For denying me the weeds," Steve gave him a warm smile. "I had been goaded to buy them from you but now thinking back, I'm glad that I didn't get them. Because I knew the moment I went back with a bag of weeds, those people would encourage me to buy drugs next. It'd go on until they got me addicted and my life would be much more different if I was sent into rehab by my father."
Though Eddie knew this was what he hoped his little conscience would do to those teenagers, he still didn't expect Steve Harrington of all people to thank him for it.
And he didn't expect his heart to leap into Steve's hand without his consent, either.
"It's nothing," Eddie cleared his throat slightly and picked up his beer bottle so he'd have something to do instead of flailing his hands around like an idiot. "It's just one of my rules that I don't sell to underages."
"And thanks to you, many guys like me can have a better life," Steve raised his beer into the air. "Cheers for Eddie Munson."
Eddie though blushed at the lovely smile Steve sent him, still held up his bottle and clinked it with Steve's.
After that night, they started hanging out together more often. Sometimes, it'd be at Steve's place, and some other times, it'd be in Eddie's bedroom at the Munson trailer.
Steve even chatted with Wayne about basketball, on which Eddie would never in his wildest dream expect to walk in when he returned from a gig one late night.
Gradually, it became their thing to spend time together whenever they could.
Yet, Eddie didn't dare to consider them as anything but friends.
Sure, they hung out all the time in each other's bedroom, they shared forehead kisses and cuddles, they brushed each other's hair, and they even lived in each other's wardrobe.
But, clearly, Steve was as straight as a ruler and Eddie wouldn't ruin their friendship just because of his stupid feelings.
So Eddie did what he thought was the best. He tried to move on.
But he had failed the moment a random girl walked up to Steve and started flirting with him.
An ugly thing reared its head inside Eddie and caused him to see Red.
He just stormed over and pulled Steve away from that girl, out of the bar, and into the back of his van without much thought for the consequences.
Fuck the consequences. Because Steve was his and his alone. Anyone could fuck off.
"Eds? Did something happen? Are you okay?" Steve looked at him in concern.
That got an amused huff out of Eddie. Of course, his sweetheart would worry about everyone but himself.
"No, I'm okay," he took in a deep breath to calm down. Then, he met those hazel eyes and decided to be honest for once. "I was just jealous."
"Of who?" Steve’s brows pinched in bafflement.
"Of that girl," Eddie licked his dry lips and watched Steve's gaze flick down to them before meeting his eyes again.
"Why?"
"Why?" Eddie parroted back before giving out the answer that had been locked inside him for years. "Because I like you, Steve."
"Oh," Steve breathed out.
"Yeah," Eddie snorted bitterly and braced himself for the imminent heartbreak.
He waited for Steve to either turn him down gently or punch him in the face for taking advantage of their friendship for his greed and selfishness.
He knew Steve would never do that. But it'd hurt far worse if Steve got upset enough with him to resort to pure violence.
Instead, all Steve did was ask with a raised eyebrow, "So are you gonna kiss me now or do I need to do it first?"
Eddie didn't need to be told twice to cup Steve's face and lock their lips together.
This could be another good dream for all he cared.
For now, Eddie didn't want to drown himself in yet another existential crisis until he was done making out with his darling.
Until they stumbled into Steve's bed, until Eddie was permitted to do everything to the other man, including blowing his back out that he knew it wasn't a dream. Because Eddie never made it this far in his dreams before.
"So are we boyfriends now?" Eddie asked again just to make sure as he cuddled and shared lazy kisses with an adorably sleepy Steve.
"Mhm," Steve hummed under his breath, all rosy cheeks and blissed out.
"Just so you know," Eddie traced his forefinger on the soft outline of Steve's chin. "You're gonna be stuck with me for a very long time and even if you try to kick me away, I'd find a way to get back to you."
"That sounds perfect to me," Steve yawned and snuggled up to him.
"Yeah?" Eddie tightened his arms around Steve.
"Uh-huh," Steve planted a small kiss on his jaw. "We're in this together now. And you're gonna see how clingy I am very soon. Just don't regret it, Munson."
"I'd never, sweetheart," Eddie whispered back and gave his lovely boyfriend another smooch on his forehead.
As Eddie slowly drifted off, he just knew he was the world's happiest and luckiest man to have Steve in his life.
And that was a blessing he'd never take for granted.
gummygunk
stormborns
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