Hi! Can You Please Tag Me When You Upload Your Chrissy Comic? I"m So Excited!

Hi! Can you please tag me when you upload your Chrissy comic? I"m so excited!

Happy to report that it is finished. You can read it right here (just click on the link below)

STRANGER THINGS 4: CHRISSY LIVES FAN COMIC : CHRISSY, YOU WOKE UP!!!

Had this one in the archives while I was working on the Chrissy Survives comic (PART 1 HERE). I was watching the Elvira: Mistress of the Dark movie a few weeks back, and I thought how Eddie would probably love it if he ever got the chance to watch it. Considering that the movie plot is based off the Satanic Panic and making fun of the overly conservative towns people and their own flaws, I think that its safe to say that he would enjoy it. I can legit see him quoting the movie regularly, while everybody else around him just looks on confused, cause they don’t get it.

This PARTICULAR quote struck a cord, after reading the many, many, many Hellcheer fan fictions (and seeing that they portrayed Eddie as a rather “giving” boyfriend) ;)

So to set the scene.

I imagine that Eddie and Chrissy took their sweet time getting together (after graduation), despite being around one another all the time. Both are still pretty new to the relationship and are taking things very VERY slowly (since both are pretty nervous wrecks around one another- Eddie especially). One night Eddie goes to a show, gets drunk and ends up pretty banged up from the Moshpit. He calls up Chrissy (who is with Steve, Robin and Nancy) who rushes over in a panic to get him.

And the rest is up to you….;)

Seriously though, I legit wanna make as many prompts as possible, to give people fan fiction ideas. So if you do decide to make a fan fic out of this: feel free, and tag me so that I can read it.

And as always…

Much love to the actors ❤️

glass houses

a hellcheer/eddissy fanfiction

words: 1584

summary: a small moment between eddie and chrissy after he wakes her from vecna, based off of the chrissy lives fancomic by the talented @artrmeblog! read on ao3.

—

The field crickets and humming radiators are the only sounds that accompany Chrissy as she tries to calm her racing heart on the steps of Eddie Munson’s porch.

Every inch of her is covered in sweat and she greedily welcomes the cool, night March air against her frazzled form. The headache is already dimming to a slow pounding.

(It takes everything in her to focus on anything and everything instead of the tightness in her chest, the vision of that creature reaching into her, the breathlessness of running through her own house, flies and worms and spiders and sewn lips and peeled skin and rotting flesh and the terror, terror, terror of it all.

She feels stuck. In place. In her own mind. On the edge of something – a cliff, her sanity, a hell full of horrors that want to pull her from her own world.

It feels close.

And she’s tired. She’s tired of being scared all the time.)

She tries to count the patches and pins, unfamiliar and intriguing, on the vest Eddie gave her. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Anything to distract her, from the fear she felt – still feels. There’s a patch of something called Motörhead, a pewter pin that reads W.A.S.P., a shiny, pinback button with red lettering, Mercyful Fate –

The screen door creaks open wider behind her where Eddie had propped it open. She flinches, a movement so ingrained in her, so automatic, these past couple days, she only notices she does it because Eddie does, his eyes tightening at movement.

“Here.” In one hand, he holds out a mug depicting the ‘83 local fishing tournament; in the other, he clutches the radio he had knocked over.

Ice cold and running down the side of the ceramic, the water calms her nerves, though they start back up a bit when Eddie reaches over to untangle a strand of hair from her earring. He immediately snatches his hand back, using it to scratch the back of neck.

She must look like a total mess. Her mascara is already drying along her cheeks from where she sobbed just minutes before.

“Did you change your mind about the couch?” His tone is a mix of hesitant rejection and curiosity, but she can hear the concern underneath it all.

“No. I want to.” The few light poles strewn across the trailer park provide some light, but the darkness was too uncertain and scary after what just happened. “I just didn’t want to go too far. I wanted to wait for you.”

She suddenly feels silly and small for it, given that the aforementioned couch is literally a few feet from the porch, but Eddie graces her with a smile and says, “C’mon, it’s softer than it looks.”

He's talking about a piece of furniture, but she’s thinking of him and how she agrees. Those words echo around her scattered mind.

She follows him to the lumpy couch that sits beneath a wide awning. It looks old and weathered. He flops onto the cushions, and with more care for her sore legs, she follows suit, finding that, yes, it is softer than it looks.

“My uncle doesn’t have a copy of ‘Uptown,’ I’m afraid, but I did find this in his stash.” Eddie maneuvers the radio onto the floor by their feet. He hits play and the sound of glass breaking blasts from the speakers: Glass Houses.

The fumbling way he adjusts the volume, him raising and lowering his eyebrows with the movement, causing her to snort, reminds her of those lighthearted moments in the forest earlier that day – hours and hours ago that somehow seem like days and months ago – and she is once again reminded that Eddie Munson is so very different from what she expected.

The shaky panic is still sitting beneath the surface, hovering in the air like candle smoke just blown out, but the fresh air and Eddie’s presence washes over her with every second of the clock she can’t hear tick anymore.

Instead, she hears the crickets and radiators from before and tunes in to other sounds: moths bumping the lamp above them, dishes clinking and television blaring from neighboring trailers, night calls from owls and katydids, a dog on a chain, and the guitar twanging from the radio at their feet.

“Are you a Billy Joel fan?” She doesn’t think he is from what she remembers of his band and the way he dresses, but she finds it in herself to try and lighten the atmosphere.

He gives her an offended look, and she knows she’s accomplished her attempt at humor. “Blasphemous, Cunningham.”

She giggles and watches as his eyes light up at her obvious amusement. “He’s great!”

Eddie shakes his head, covering his chest in mock pain. “You’re draining me!”

“Oh, come on, there’s got to be one song of his.”

He barks a laugh, tugging at the denim vest still wrapped around her. “Not up my alley but solid try.”

“Then why the…?” She points to the radio, its silver casing glinting in the moonlight. It seems much older than her Conion at home, currently housing her dad’s favorite Carole King tape, and even still, Eddie’s looks well-loved and well-kept.

There’s an immediate sobering to his features, worry clouding his dark eyes as the sounds of the saxophone and electric guitar fill the silence. “Chrissy, you – you scared the ever-living shit out of me, you know that?”

Her panic rises like a cresting wave, but the music and the intense way Eddie’s gaze never leaves hers keeps the force of it at bay.

He runs a hand across his face, and his voice shakes when he says, “I didn’t know what the fuck was happening and it was all so fast and you were fucking flying and your eyes, they were white and I was so, so fucking terrified.” He chuckles humorlessly, and he starts to pull at a thread in the cushion. “Then fucking Billy Joel started playing because I knocked the goddamn thing over, and it wasn’t even from a tape, it was the radio, so thank fuck Wayne had Top 40’s on, but then you fell – I’m so sorry I didn’t catch you, I’m such an idiot – and you woke up, and I – I don’t know.” There’s a beat where he runs out of breath, and her heart is racing for him, for what he witnessed, for both of them. She wants to cover his mouth with her hand, with the sleeve of her cheer jacket, with her own mouth, to get him to stop talking, and she knows she shouldn’t want that, but he’s blaming himself and she likes him and he saved her. He looks back to the radio, a tiredness she feels in her very soul beginning to set in him. “He’s good for something, I guess.”

She smiles softly, sadly, at this boy before her. “You saved my life.”

His eyes shoot back to hers, a protest already forming. “No, I –”

“Eddie,” she whispers, reaching out to take his hand. The rings are cold and large; she twists one, a skull, around his finger once, twice. “You did – you saved me.”

The grip on her hand tightens and he says nothing at first, but his eyes are bright and shining, like she suspects hers are. “Agree to disagree.” He swings their hands toward the radio. “I thought that playing some of his music might be good, so.”

And, right there, something inside of her beams at his consideration. She hadn’t even made the connection at first that he had picked out the tape because “Uptown Girl” was playing when she awoke from whatever terrifying trance she had been in. She remembers his words from the living room, sincerity cutting through both of their frenzied heartbeats as he held her to him.

Whatever you said happened, I believe you. And, I promise, whatever comes next – I will help you.

“Good taste,” she jokes, instead of thank you, instead of throwing her arms around him.

Eddie breathes a small laugh, showing that dimple at the corner of his smile, and drops her hand. “Freak,” he says softly, instead of you’re welcome.

The callback hovers between them like a lightning bug, flickering with light, asking them to look, you can look, just don’t bottle me up, yet. She lays her head back against the couch, wondering if it would be too much to ask him to show her his own music collection, if she would like it, knowing that she wouldn’t mind either way if she did or not.

A clacking sound startles her from her wandering thoughts, and she whips her head up to see Eddie banging two twigs against each other in a sporadic rhythm. He’s keeping time with the drums and percussion of the spunky tune playing from the radio. A guilty smirk pulls at his mouth.

“Listen,” he starts.

“You liar!”

He drums along with the lively tempo, never missing a beat. “I never said he wasn’t good.” Squinting, he adds, “For a poppy rock dude who plays harmonica.”

She laughs and tucks this memory into her heart, away from whatever creature still might be out there.

Chrissy watches Eddie flail and dance, feeling lighter – such a strong contrast to the paranoia and disarray and horror. She knows it has a lot to do with the school’s resident “freak” sitting beside her now. Maybe everything to do with him.

Him and Billy Joel, of course.

Please do more Eddie!!! I love your work

Sure, here have a sneak peak of the Chrissy Lives AU comic, page. I call the comic " Chrissy! You woke up!" Anyway, enjoy! Hope you like it! Heres to hoping I finish it some time in the near future.

THE OFFICIAL RELEASE DATE FOR THE EUPHORIA FAN COMIC (PART 2) IS JUNE 7TH

Hello! My sincerest apologies for pushing back the date for the comic. Originally, I was gonna publish the 10 pages Yesterday. Sadly, due to travelling and some technological issues, I lost my all of the progress on the last 3 pages (out of 10), which made me start from scratch. But good news is that now I have a specific publish date in mind, which I plan on sticking to. My sincerest apologies once again, and see you in a week.

EUPHORIA POST SEASON 2 FANCOMIC- PART 2

PART 1- CLICK HERE TO READ

Happy to report I managed to finish this. This was a significantly more challenging task, than the first part. Not just because of the page number difference, but adding some new characters, finding the colour palette I wanted, and other details. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this “issue”. I already have a huge part of the storyline figured out, and will happily try to show it more frequently. Expect to see some old characters make a “re-appearance”, and some “forgotten” characters get more time in the spotlight.

I really do want to hear what you think will happen next.

I am also gonna upload these pages on my Instagram Highlight. I suggest you follow my instagram account (@artrme) for more WIP of future issues.

Hope to upload and make more soon. And looking forward to hear your feedback.

Sincerely ArtRMe

SEE YOU IN PART 3